by Tegan Maher
Hunter slowed down and flipped on his blinker, then turned into the plaza that housed Duck's Pizza. Donald James, aka Duck, got his nickname in grade school in about the same way you're probably imagining he did—his name was Donald, plus he toed out a little, and our bullies didn't exactly come from the deep end of our already shallow gene pool.
That's not really why the name stuck, though. The pack was picking on his buddy Gene one afternoon. One of them, the biggest one, was holding Gene’s arms behind him while the other was punching the scrawny little guy in the gut just for sport. Duck walked up to the pair, and said one word to his buddy: duck. Gene did, and Duck laid the dude holding him out cold.
None of that had anything to do with the fact that he's a brick-oven god. My stomach growled when the smells of fresh bread and tomato sauce wafted through the window.
Hunter put the truck in park and turned to Max. "I heard you fired your foreman last week."
He reached up to scratch his grizzled chin and thought for a minute. "Yeah. He couldn't stay out of the sauce long enough to come to work. As a matter of fact, he was walkin' on a slant when I canned him. He took a swing at me and fell on his keister. I went to his place ’cause he hadn't bothered to show up for work again that day. He was cussin' a blue streak as I was driving off."
"You think maybe he coulda done it?"
Max flickered and his gaze was out of focus when he looked at me. "Done what?"
"Killed you." Hunter drew out the words as Max' form became fuzzy.
His eyes got that far away, confused look in them again. "Killed me? You okay, son?" The last couple of words sounded like they were coming from a long way away, then Max was gone.
I climbed out of the truck; I didn't have time to worry about a disappearing ghost with memory and attitude problems. I had a pizza waiting for me, and a cold beer at the house to go with it. Oh, and a translucent aunt waiting with bells on to finally talk to a guy she’d been sitting in the same room with for months. Maybe I should grab an extra six-pack.
Chapter Five
By the time we made it home, Shelby, her sort-of boyfriend Cody, and Raeann were already waiting for us. Cody already knew about Addy; Shelby hadn’t yet learned to pay attention to her surroundings—which is actually how she met Cody—and he’d busted her talking to Addy or Cheri Lynn so many times that we either had to tell him, or commit her.
We weren’t even through the door before Shelby snatched the pizza boxes out of my hand and headed for the kitchen while I ran upstairs to change. Rae followed, firing off questions faster than I could process them, let alone respond.
"How was your weekend? Was the cabin nice? What did you do? Was the body gross?"
I laughed when I saw her flushed face. She was one of a kind, and I wouldn't trade her for the world, but she really did need to lay off the espresso. She plopped down on my bed and waited while I pulled a pair of yoga pants and my favorite Bulldogs t-shirt out of a drawer.
"The weekend was great, the cabin was awesome. We mostly hung out, fished, and rode the bike, and I didn’t see the body. Only his boots and ankles, and the bloody tank lid. And oh, by the way, he actually showed up to talk to Hunter, not me."
She raised her brows. "Oh, snap. How did Hunter take that?"
I peeled off my snug, barbeque-scented clothing and sighed when I slipped into the stretchy, comfortable sweats. "Actually, better than I expected. As a matter of fact, aside from being a little weirded out for the first two minutes, he took it in stride."
Raeann gave a half-smile and shook her head. "You struck gold with that one, sugar. You better hog-tie him and marry him before he comes to his senses."
"Thanks a lot," I told her as I tossed my clothes into the hamper and rolled my shoulders. "Did you ever consider that he's the crazy one and I better run for the hills? Most men would have high-tailed it out of here like his hair was on fire when a woman he semi-suspected of murder started hearing voices in the middle of a conversation. Instead, he asked me out. That's a little squirrelly if you ask me."
Hunter learned I was a witch when Shelby sent me a telepathic 911 while we were in his truck because she’d fallen off a ladder and busted her head. It was tough to come up with a rational explanation for why I’d demanded that he take me home at break-neck speed while I called for an ambulance out of the blue, so I’d gone with the truth.
She cocked a brow and nodded. "True that. Still, we should probably make sure he doesn't order anything from Brew with logic or wisdom in it, just in case," she said.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."
As a whiz mixologist, Rae had a huge selection of proprietary blends that did everything from relieve anxiety to cure warts.
It’s not like she’s slipping her customers Mickeys, though I wish I’d had one earlier for Chet. She's the poster child for truth in advertising. There's a menu that includes a "meant to induce" description for each drink, just like any other herbal shop. Hers just happened to deliver on the promises better than most.
She'd plopped onto the side of my bed and was fiddling with my Yosemite Sam bobble-head doll. “You know you're going to have to tell him about Aunt Addy and the others eventually, right?"
I pulled in a deep breath as I smoothed my hair in the mirror. "Yeah. In fact, they’ve decided to come clean tonight. I'm tired of hiding it from him, and so's Addy." I met her eyes in the mirror as I wiped the eyeliner from under my eyes. "He hasn't been here long, but he's taken the permanent sheriff job and bought a house. He’s not going anywhere. It's time."
She held up her hands. "I'm not arguin' with you, sugar. I was all for telling him before y'all went on your trip."
"Then it looks like all we need to do is decide whether to do it before or after we eat."
"Wait ’til he gets a slice in his hand," she said as we left my room. "He's not going to run off and leave Duck's pizza behind. He'll be a captive audience, literally. You have at least two slices to break it to him."
I straightened my shoulders. How bad could it be, right? On a scale of one to my-girlfriend-hears-voices, I figured it was a solid four at best.
We headed back downstairs, where Shelby had already set out a stack of paper plates and napkins and was half-way through her first slice.
Adelaide was sitting in her chair at the end of the table, looking irritated because she couldn't participate in the conversation because Hunter didn't know about her yet.
I should probably give you a little background on her. She appeared in the stall doorway during one of my ugly-cry sessions while I was cleaning stalls shortly after her funeral, telling me everything was going to be okay.
She'd been so worried about leaving me to take care of the farm and raise Shelby alone that she'd opted not to cross over. And boy was I glad. At least until she started criticizing. Since she couldn't physically do the work, she had nothing better to do than supervise. It was awesome.
When I tuned into the conversation, Hunter was telling them about Max.
I cleared my throat and four pairs of eyes swung to me. Raeann placed her hand on my back in silent support.
"Remember I said we needed to talk?"
He looked at me and paused with his slice halfway to his mouth. He lowered it and looked around. Since nobody else looked expectant or even worried, he shifted in his chair. "Yeah. Seeing as how I appear to be the only one in the dark, I assume this has to do with the whole witchy thing?"
"Uh, not exactly. But along those lines, yeah." I glanced at the faces around the table. The expressions ranged from amused to expectant. How do you go about telling a guy that your living-impaired aunt is currently sitting at the head of the table with him and has, in fact, been present for most of our family get-togethers?
Addy heaved a put-upon sigh. "Oh for the love of Pete. You're scarin' the boy."
When I didn't say anything, she glowered at me. "Never mind. I'll do it myself." With that, she popped into sight. Or at least I assume she did, since I could already s
ee her, because Hunter pushed back in his chair so hard he tipped himself over backward, then busted his shin on the underside of the table when he tried to catch his balance before crashing to the floor.
Addy hovered a little higher and peered over his boots at him, cringing when he rolled over and pushed to his feet. He was rubbing the back of his head and scowling. "Sorry about that," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I reckon I didn't think that one out very well."
I glared at her as I righted the chair, noting in the back of my mind that he hadn't dropped his pizza. "You think?"
She had the grace to blush, then settled back into a seated position. Everybody just waited to see what Hunter was going to do now that the ghost was out of the closet.
He pinched his lips together and stared at her for a few long moments, then ran his tongue over his teeth, seeming to come to a decision. "Ms. Adelaide, I presume?"
"In the flesh," she said. "Well, not exactly. That's just an expression." Now she looked flustered, reaching up to pat her hair. "Anyway, it's nice to finally meet you. It's been a real pain in the patooty having to keep my lips zipped while you were here."
He chewed on that for a few heartbeats. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am." He glowered at the rest of us. "I had no idea you were here or I would have never asked that of you in your own home."
"Now wait a minute," I said. "It wasn't our fault! We didn't hide her in the pantry like a redheaded stepchild! We weren't allowed to tell you about her."
"Allowed?"
Addy floated closer to him. "Yes, honey. Allowed. We can't just go around showing ourselves to every Tom, Dick, and Hunter that comes to town. Otherwise, those stupid ghost hunter shows would be on us like white on rice. Then that would make for a whole passel of trouble for you."
She motioned to the pizza boxes. "You should eat your pizza while it's still warm. All of you. You ain't never had any problem eatin' and jawin' at the same time." She cast a longing glance at the mushroom and pineapple. "Don't see why tonight should be any different. Besides, if I can't eat it, I can at least watch y'all enjoy it."
I scrunched my nose. "Food perv."
"Call it what you want, missy. It's one of the worst things about being on the other side of the daisies."
Hunter raised his brow at the expression, then took a bite out of his slice and munched for a minute. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable screaming, arm-waving exit that I just knew was coming.
Instead, he waved his slice toward Addy and swallowed. "So, how does this happen? Do you, like, have a choice, or do you have unfinished business, or what? Can you go all poltergeist-y if you get mad?" He narrowed his eyes. "Can you possess people?"
Addy scoffed. "See, it's exactly those types of stereotypes that keep us in hiding. I'm here because I chose to stay. I don't know how the system works, but for the most part, people choose to go on. I didn't because these girls"—she waved a hand at us—"still need me."
He gave her a sideways glance. "Sooo, the poltergeist and possession issues?"
She cocked a brow at him. "I'm not gonna go blowin' all the bulbs or breakin' things just because somebody twists my knickers. That's why the good lord gave me a mouth. Plus, I paid a lot of money for some of the stuff in this house, and the rest of it has sentimental value. As far as possessing you, be reasonable. Would you want to crawl into my body?" She shuddered and looked at him like he'd lost his mind.
"But could you?" he pressed.
She shook her head and scoffed. "No! What's wrong with you that you're so hung up on me climbin' into your skin?" She turned to me and motioned to him with her thumb. "Does he have some kinda secret condition or,"—she cupped one side of her mouth and lowered her voice—"a wee-willie-winkie?"
Hunter looked appalled. "What? No!"
"Oh my god, Addy." I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Shelby, Rae, and Cody snorted and dissolved into laughter.
"Well, I figured I better ask." She slanted her eyes at him, scrunched her nose, and adopted a wolfy grin. "You know, so in case I decide to possess one of you, I can make an informed decision."
Rae, Shelby, and Cody had just managed to recover when she said that, and fell out again. Hunter, on the other hand, wasn't sure what to think. "She's kidding right?"
I took a deep breath and almost made the mistake of praying for patience. "Yes, honey, she's kidding."
I took advantage of everybody's lack of focus on the important stuff to grab another slice. The peanut gallery managed to regain control of themselves, and we settled back in, eating quietly for a few minutes.
Hunter stole a few glances at Addy, but I think it was more for the winkie comment than anything else, because he scowled when he did.
He swallowed the last bite of a crust, then asked, "So is this finally it? Is anything else gonna pop up, literally or figuratively?"
I thought for a minute, then shook my head. "I don't think so. Ghosts, witches—that covers it, I think. Welcome to the real Keyhole."
"So do you have any suspects in the murder?" Addy asked, cutting straight to the chase. "Max was a cantankerous ole coot, but he was all hot air. I can't think of a single real enemy he had. He's always been honest and he's coached little league and youth football for nigh on thirty years."
I stood to refill our glasses then grabbed another slice of mushroom and pineapple. "Well, he managed to piss off at least one person," I said, sitting back down. "Coralee and the girls had a few ideas."
I shared what I'd learned that afternoon on the way to the diner. I'd already told Hunter on the way over, and nobody else had anything to add. Probably because the folks we were talking about were so much older than us. Except for Addy, that is.
The events at the restaurant popped into my head. "I met the most obnoxious guy tonight," I said around a mouthful of pizza. "Chet Malcolm. He came in with his kid and Bobbie Sue ended up throwing them out." I briefly relayed the situation.
"Funny you should mention him because I was just about to because of Max," Cody said. "His son Kyle's somethin' else. He played on our team and they butted heads a week or so ago at camp. Max benched Kyle for a week for bullying and threatened to ban him from the league if he did it again."
“So this guy and his kid are just spreading love and sunshine all over the place then,” I said. “I didn’t realize you knew Max, Cody. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said. “I just started volunteering and ended up as Max’s assistant coach. He was a good guy.”
Hunter waved that off. "How did the father react?"
"I thought he was gonna have a stroke. Flipped out. He was up in Max's face cussin' a blue streak. Said he'd get Max removed from his coaching position. One of the other coaches had to step in and physically pull him away from Max."
Just then, my miniature donkey, who in a weird twist of fate also happens to be named Max, came plodding into the kitchen. He stopped and rubbed the top of his head on the underside of the table, then peeked over to see if there was any pizza left.
"What seems to be the problem? I keep hearing my name," he said after nudging a pizza box with his nose. "Besides the fact that you were being gluttons and weren't going to save me a slice, as usual."
Hunter looked at him, then at me. "The donkey talks."
I gave myself a mental forehead slap. Oh yeah. Witches, ghosts, and talking donkeys. I smiled, and as usual, waited for him to come to his senses and hit the bricks, but he just sat there.
"Oh for heaven's sake. Yes, the donkey talks," Max said, lopping his ears back and rolling his eyes. "Let's get this over with. I'm Maximilian Beauregard Lancaster III, or Max. In the sixteenth century, I was having a high old time as a member of the nobility and had the misfortune of running afoul of an Irish witch. She blew the situation completely out of proportion. In hindsight, the red hair and Irish blood probably should have been warning signs, but I wasn't exactly looking at the future if you know what I mean." He waggled his furry eyebrows. "She turned me int
o an ass, for reasons known only to herself."
“Oh no,” I said. “They’re known to everybody. Except maybe you, which is what landed you in that sack of furry thumblessness to begin with.”
He scowled at me, which is a hilarious expression on a donkey. His great, bushy eyebrows slammed down to hood his eyes, his ears lopped back and his lip curled.
Hunter just looked at him and nodded. And nodded some more. "Uh huh. That's perfectly logical." He looked back and forth between me, Addy, and Max, then ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “I had no idea normal was so subjective."
I tipped up one corner of my mouth and thought back to one of the first times he was here, when he suspected me of murder and didn't know that magic existed. He'd said I was one of the most normal people he'd met.
I guess it said something that he was willing to change his entire definition of normal for me. Not that he really had a choice; some things you just can't unsee, but he was still there.
Max butted him on the leg. "Yes, we're not normal, except we are. You'll get used to it. Now, about that slice of pizza ..."
Hunter looked askance at me.
I shrugged. "Pizza sauce gives him gas and you have to pull it into little pieces for him, but that's all you. He's gonna nag until you give in, anyway."
"And pour me a scotch to wash it down with, woman."
Again, he wonders why he’s in that body. I shook my head.
I stood and pulled a half-full 750 of Glenlivit out of the cabinet and poured a couple fingers into one of those black salsa bowls that you get at Mexican restaurants. C'mon. Don't tell me you've never popped one of those in your to-go box. Anyway, it’s easier for him to drink it that way.
Hunter was watching me when I sat it down. “Scotch,” he deadpanned. “Of course. Silly me. What else would a talking donkey eat with pizza?”