by Tegan Maher
"Sure, sugar. Be my guest. I don't want anything carryin' some kinda magical cooties on it in here. And even if it's fine, keep it. It matches your complexion and will look nice on you."
I pushed a stray red curl off my forehead. Purple was my color, and if the heart didn't want to kill me, or suck out my magic, or make all my toenails fall off—especially since I'd just gotten them painted—then I'd love to have it.
Dropping it into my bag, I turned to go, but then remembered girls' night.
Since we didn't get to go out Monday, how about we do it tomorrow?" I asked.
She grinned. "That sounds awesome! I missed everybody while we were gone. Maybe you can get TJ and Moira over here, too. Those girls are kinda growin' on me."
"Yeah, me too," I said, pulling my keys out of my pocket. "And we're inviting Levana, too."
Anna Mae crinkled her nose. "I don't know what to think of her. She seems nice, but there's something odd about her."
"I think she's just had a tough past. And besides, like you said—she seems nice. I pick up a little bit of a strange vibe from her, but I don't sense a lick of bad. Let's pull her in. It's kinda what we do, right?"
She pinched her lips together and her cheeks pinked. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was being mean, and she's done nothing to deserve it. Now I feel bad."
Like Cheri Lynn, Anna Mae hadn't had the easiest of lives being hitched to Hank. She'd had her reasons for staying, but he'd kept her cut off from anybody who may have wanted to be her friend, and carryin' his last name, those folks had been few and far between anyway. She knew what it felt like to be excluded, and being the softie she was, she would never willingly do it to someone else.
"Don't feel bad," I said, nudging her with my hip. "Let's just get to know her a little. Who knows? She may just be backwards and we'll love her once we get to know her."
"Then bring her along," she said, smiling. "Lord knows we can always use one more friend in the group!"
There was the Anna Mae I loved. I just hoped I didn't blow so much smoke up her backside it was going to come out her ears.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
IN ORDER TO AVOID THE wrath of Erol, I went in and worked for a few hours, then looked online to find some estate sales for that weekend. I was low on everything—even signs, and I'd stocked up on those at an auction just a few weeks ago. Once I hit on the clock idea, they flew out the door.
Shelby'd stopped by to give Bobbie Sue her keys back that afternoon after Hunter talked to her. Bobbie Sue was upset and worried that, even if neither of them were arrested, people would attach the shadow of the murder to the restaurant if it wasn't solved. The least I could do was look.
I decided to dig for more pictures of barbecue competitions to see if I could find Gregoria gettin' cozy with the judge in any more of them, but came up empty. Then I googled just their names and hit pay dirt. There was a formal event in Georgia that showed them both dressed in formal attire, dining at a little cafe table, and they were most certainly not just colleagues in that one. His hand was on her knee, she was leaning into him, and the bubbly was flowing. Oh, and neither one of them were shaped like any sort of bird.
The picture was several years old—2008—and the caption read:
One of the crown couples of the Atlanta food scene, Gregoria Stanton and Mac Moore, paint the town after an invite-only food tasting at the grand opening of the much-anticipated ...
I copied the link and sent it to Hunter's phone. I dug a little more, but didn't find much else. Of course, that particular one was sheer gold as far as I was concerned, so it didn't bother me much that nothing else turned up.
While I was messing around, I decided to google the two restaurants—Grillin' and Chillin' and Smokin' Hot—that ripped off the recipes. I was pretty good at wordplay and those two guys hadn't seemed like the brightest bulbs on the string. Maybe there was a way I could match them to some of the names in the recipe thread in the forum. I don't know what good that would do, but I didn't have any other way to link the whole mess together and it was driving me crazy.
I banged my forehead on my desk when I realized most of the recipe seekers used generic names and numbers—bbq345, wantrecipes, help12345. Not helpful.
"Have you checked the restaurants themselves, or done a search on the owners?" Erol asked. "Maybe you can find something that ties them together. Group events or sponsorships, maybe."
I checked Smokin' Hot first. Sole proprietor, Jeff Acres. None of the faces stood out. Then I ran some searches for him and found him on Facebook. He had dozens of selfies with women, none of whom looked too pleased to have their faces forever linked to his in the land of social media. His page said he was single, and his motto was, so many ladies, so little time. What a tool. No wonder he was single.
The second one, Grillin' and Chillin', had a little more meat on the bone, so to speak. I'd expected to find that Al, or Arrogant Jerkface Number 2 as I'd begun to think of him, owned it like he said he did, but a Geraldine Cassidy was listed as a co-owner was listed as a co-owner. I chewed on my lip and tapped my finger, thinking. The name didn't ring a bell.
Al didn't even have a Facebook page, or if he did, it wasn't under that name. Neither did Geraldine, and there wasn't one for the restaurant, either. That was weird. Almost everyone had a Facebook page. Shoot, Addy had one and so did Aunt Beth. I looked through LinkedIn, Twitter, Instagram—nada. Zero social presence. I narrowed my eyes and thought.
I got three hits on Geraldine—one lived in East Africa, one was a lady who looked to be about ninety and lived in Portland, and the other was local, but she was a tween, though she was trying hard to hide it. I didn't even own as much makeup as that kid was wearing. Where was the parental guidance?
After doing a quick check for reviews hoping to find pictures or some kind of link, all I learned was that neither place rated more than three stars until a couple of months prior, when the recipes were sold. Several commented that the taste of the food had improved but the meat was still poorly cooked. That was something, though. It was another link between them and the sale of the recipes.
Folding my laptop closed, I sighed. Erol had been making suggestions as I went and was as discouraged as I was.
"It just doesn't make sense," he said. "Even small businesses have some kind of social footprint. I mean, they have a handful of reviews, but look what happened when we pulled up Bobbie Sue's. There were pages of info on the place. Even if the business doesn't create anything, the travel review sites do. I couldn't even go to McDonald's without my phone asking me to review it, which means the managers' and staff names will likely be listed eventually. BAM. Footprint. Not them though."
I lifted a shoulder. "You're preachin' to the choir. I don't get it either." Even though I'd only been open a few months, Reimagined or the farm popped up when you Googled my name.
"There's nothin' else I can do tonight. I'm heading to the farm, but I gotta stop and get some groceries. You have plans tonight?" I asked.
"Yep," he said, "There's a Master Chef marathon on. That's it. Norm and are I chillin' and watchin' some cut-throat cookin'."
"Alrighty then," I said, picking up the remote. I flipped it to the right channel and grabbed my bag. "Lights on or off?"
"Off, please. No need to waste the electric and it puts a glare on the TV."
I flipped them off and dug my keys from my purse. "See you tomorrow."
"Night, sweetie."
I locked up behind myself that time, and thought to myself how crazy my life had gotten. I'd gone from serving at Bobbie Sue's and having only a handful of people to call friends—almost all of whom were family—to owning a business and having more friends that I'd had in my entire life. Things were good in Noelle Land.
Except that two of the people closest to me were suspects in a double-murder.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I STOPPED ON THE WAY home and grabbed the fixin's for the spaghetti. Hunter had texted back that he'd forwarded the info to S
heriff Scottsdale. He also said he was running a little late because the Coatesville deputy still hadn't shown up to pick up Bobbie Sue's gun. That worked, because the fam was getting together for a little Flynn-witches pow-wow and it would be better if it was a closed event.
Shelby was already there and so was Rae and Aunt Beth. Rae'd brought her box of herbs and was mixing some of her coffee blends while Addy and Aunt Beth hovered—Addy literally—over her, offering advice. She looked ready to poke them both in the eye.
She smacked at Aunt Beth's hand when she tried to add an extra pinch of something. "Stop! If I add any more ginseng, they'll be bouncin' off the walls and won't be able to focus. Besides, it messes with the flavor of the coffee."
Huffing in frustration, she scraped the ingredients into a baggie, then tossed it in the box along with the rest of her ingredients and shoved the lid on it.
"Hey ladies," I said, lifting the plastic grocery bags and plopping them down on the counter. "Ready for some spaghetti?"
"Yes!" Shelby said, jumping up from the table. "Lemme help."
"You're just tryin' to avoid the conversation," Beth said.
Shelby tapped the end of her nose. "Ding, ding. Nailed it in one. I do not need love advice. And if you remember, we had The Talk when I was twelve. I'm good. Besides, I'm seventeen. Cody and I are good. This isn't the 70s. We're both going to college before we move on to the whole settlin' down part of life."
Addy scowled at her. "We just want what's best for you."
"And I appreciate it. Noe, pass me the tomatoes."
I smiled as I handed the bag of Romas to her. She'd come a long way since her snow-globe experience, and I was proud of the woman she was becoming. I felt a little bad, because being the baby came with some baggage, namely two over-protective, bossy aunts who still saw her as a child rather than a young woman. For that matter, Rae and I still defaulted to that sometimes, too.
Rae joined us and in a few minutes, the wonderful smell of roasting onions and garlic permeated the kitchen. Shel finished chopping the tomatoes and tossed them into the skillet, and in no time at all, the sauce was bubbling. Shelby had put the rolls in the warm oven to quick-proof before I'd gotten home, and all the was left to do was talk.
I refilled everybody's tea, then took a seat at the table. I glanced back and forth between Addy and Aunt Beth, and both looked as nervous as long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. "Okay, ladies. It's time to spill. What's going on?"
"First, you need to know that we never thought any of this would happen. We just figured the three of you would grow up and be normal. We knew you'd have strong magic, but didn't expect it to be anything extraordinary," Aunt Beth said.
"But?" Rae said. So far, she hadn't gained anything new, but she came from the same bloodline as we did, and had plenty of mojo even though none of us tended to overuse it. We liked being average, for the most part.
"But Flynn witches are different," Addy said. "Back in the day, before the Council was formed and became the ruling power, it was us. At least in this part of the world. We've always had extraordinary gifts, way back to the beginning of time."
She took a deep breath, then continued. "Our parents helped create the Council, and were happy to hand over the reins. Times had changed and witches—most witches—just wanted to live ordinary lives. We made the decision when y'all were born that we were gonna raise you away from all the politics, and withdrew from the everyday functioning of the council."
Things were starting to make a little more sense. The council tended to steer clear of us, with the exception of Shelby. She'd had problems with her magic when she was young. She hadn't come into her gifts like the rest of us had, and her control was practically non-existent. At least until she'd hit her head the summer before; after that, she was right as rain, except she'd had some problem adapting to having all that power dumped on her at once.
"Okay, then. Obviously something went wrong somewhere with that plan," Shelby said. "My powers were blocked and you"—she motioned to Aunt Beth—"had some kind of a run-in that took most of your power away."
Aunt Beth dipped her head. "There was a faction that didn't want to live under the council. They'd lived on the peripheral of the covens, but sometimes ran afoul of the rules. Rather than living in harmony with the rest of the planet, they wanted to take over from us."
I cringed. "That sounds like something you'd read in some kind of urban fantasy, post-apocalyptic book, not something that happens in real life."
Aunt Addy gave a small smile. "It does. But that's exactly why the Council was formed. First and foremost, 99 percent of us view ourselves as regular humans with a little extra oomph. They viewed themselves as above all that, though most of them had very little power. Maybe that's what the problem was—they already felt too normal, and didn't want to lose what little identity they had. Who knows."
Aunt Beth shrugged. "Whatever their reason, they decided to take over the council, but knew they couldn't do it all at once. We'd have crushed them. So, one night after we'd had one of the final meetings, they came to my place; they knew they had to take out the Flynns, because at that point, we still had the following of most of the East Coast witches. I was babysitting Shelby because Noelle had a recital at school the next day."
She paused and took a deep breath. "Eight of them came and jumped me while I was out back hanging out laundry. Broad daylight, and my back was turned." She was staring off with a small smile. "Shelby was sitting in the basket, playing with a kitten and it was one of those beautiful spring days. Something hit me in the back, then I was being attacked from all directions."
She closed her eyes and her face was pale. "I managed to ward them off long enough to cast a bubble over the baby, but I must not have done it soon enough."
The look on her face when she glanced at Shelby was agonized. "It's the only explanation for why your powers were blocked. Their plan was to immobilize me then kill me, then move on to Addy and your mom. The only thing they hadn't counted on—mainly because we kept it a secret—was that the three of us shared the same mental bond you three do. I called to them and they came, but not before I was almost dead."
Addy had been quiet for most of the telling, but Aunt Beth looked exhausted. "When we got there, Beth was on her knees shielding Shelby; she was hamstrung because she was terrified to move away from her. After all, she was the next generation of Flynns. Your mom had the rare power of teleportation.
Rae rolled her eyes. "You gotta be kidding me. Seriously, you guys realize how sci-fi this sounds, right?"
Scowling, Addy said, "We do, but it was different times. It was the reason we wanted the Council to begin with. Imagine Olivia and crew"—my arch enemy and overall bully and mean girl—"with magic."
When she explained it that way, it made more sense.
"Anyway," she continued, "It didn't take us long to clean house once she got there and we gathered the council and corralled the rest of their clan the next day."
I wasn't sure I wanted to know what she meant by clean house, but I was so pissed at the thought of somebody attacking my family that I had to ask.
Beth shook her head at the question. "We didn't kill them because we didn't have to; that's what separates us from them, just like with all law enforcement. But we did strip their powers and kept a close eye on them. That's why we formed the Magical Oversight Committee."
Shelby had been under their observation before she had access to her magic, unhindered. Erratic magic and teenage hormones are a terrible combination.
"I never completely recovered," Aunt Beth said, "and we had no idea Shelby'd been affected until her gifts didn't materialize when she was a preteen like they should have." The guilt in her gaze when she looked at Shelby made me mad.
"Don't you dare take what happened to her onto your shoulders," I said. "She probably wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you."
Shelby nodded in agreement. "And besides, everything worked out." She held out her arms. "I'm
just fine."
"That's what I've told her for years," Addy grumbled.
Aunt Beth gave us a half-smile. "Well I do have to say that when everything righted itself when you hit your head, it was a huge load off our shoulders."
I had a sudden thought. "And Mama's death?"
Addy shook her head. "Just a horrible accident. And before you ask, we have no idea why your dad left, but we do know it was planned. He'd left a note, and the bank account information so we could access your college funds."
The smell of rising bread and Italian seasonings jerked me out of my thoughts and I jumped up to stir the sauce.
"So what does this have to do with our new gifts? Specifically the time thing?"
Beth shrugged. "That's a new one for us, at least in recent generations, but I suppose it's not surprising that it's cropped up. Your great-great"—she shut one eye and tried to do the mental math—"however many greats-grandmother had that, but she only used it once, and she didn't say what for. Just that if it ever popped up again, that it should never be used."
"Well," I said, rolling my eyes. "Thanks, Gram. That's helpful."
"Seriously, honey, we don't know what to tell you about it other than to do your best to control it. Talk to the Camille. Maybe the Council has more information than we do."
"And what about me?" Shelby asked. "I mean, a couple months ago, I broke bad in a big way when Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Bimbo tried to kill Noelle."
"Now that we think is a combination of Flynn power and a little angel magic. We don't know for sure what happened when she gave you that mark, but she said you were meant for great things." Beth shrugged. "My guess? Time will tell."
Addy turned to Rae. "Don't be surprised if something pops up for you, too." She motioned toward Beth. "Your dear ole mama there was at least as powerful as the rest of us." She gave Beth a speculative look, but continued talking to Rae. "Personally, I think she still has at least some of her mojo, but she's drowning it in guilt."