spies and spells 01 - spies and spells

by Kappes, Tonya

  “You tell that mom of yours that I’m going to give her a run for her money on the Hidden Treasure Tour,” she warned.

  “I’ll do that.” I ran up the front stairs and slammed the front door when I got safely inside. “Mom!” I yelled down the hall. “You better step up your garden game.” I laughed and grabbed my keys and clutch off the counter. Mom had put the bundle of herbs next to them so I wouldn’t forget to take them to The Brew. “Mrs. Hubbard is going to give you a run for your money.”

  Mom stopped plucking the herbs and looked at me. There wasn’t a bit of amusement in her eyes. She took her life’s journey very seriously.

  I put my arms up in the air with my hands stuffed. “Her words not mine.” I winked and headed out the back door. “Hey, do you think I could take more of an active role in cooking at the diner?”

  Mom’s head snapped back, she took me in.

  “I’m so tired of not having a purpose.” I objected to her stare. “I know the Witchy Hour and stuff, but I’m twenty-eight years old and I’d like to get on with my life.”

  “When you have your Witchy Hour, your life will get on,” she said and went back to plucking.

  “Mom.” I cried, getting her attention. “All I’m asking is for you to talk to Auntie Meme and tell her you agree to let me have a more active role in the kitchen.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged, pointing to the door for me to get going.

  Mom had really done an amazing job in our back yard. We had a play pool; it was only four feet deep and not very long, but it was big enough for the four of us to get in and enjoy on a hot Kentucky summer day. Plus the vibrant colors of the flower garden Mom had grown along with special herbs made the yard pop with colors. The fountain that drained into a curvy pond where koi fish lived was a new feature. Mrs. Hubbard hadn’t seen it and was going to probably die right there while the tour was going on. That wasn’t my concern. I had to get to work before Auntie Meme had her own heart attack.

  I used the keypad to open the electric garage door.

  “Good morning, Vinnie,” I said to my 1965 red AC Cobra familiar.

  His lights blinked off and on, the driver door swung open, and the engine started.

  “Good morning, Maggie. I hope you find the temperature to your liking this cool morning,” Vinnie said, as he always aimed to please me.

  I got in and put the herbs down on the passenger seat along with my purse.

  “I see your mom has been busy this morning.”

  “She has.” I shut the door and put my hands on the wheel. “What’s the weather today?”

  “A cold front is coming through and will be here for the next couple of days.” Vinnie pulled out, taking a right down the alley.

  At the end, he took another right on Sixth Street and then a left on Hill Street.

  “I imagine you will be busy today.” Vinnie was good at making small talk.

  He hadn’t had to get me out of too many bad situations. And I wasn’t sure what he could do as my familiar to keep me safe. But I never questioned. He was a cool car and he had become more of a friend than a car. Sounded strange, but it was true.

  “I hope so,” I groaned. “You know,” I sighed. “I’m twenty-eight and I don’t want to be stuck in a diner all my life.” I bit my lip wondering if I was going to have to create my own destiny and not worry about what my heritage said my life’s journey was. “Or maybe we have become so engrained in the mortal world, we don’t have a life’s journey anymore.”

  “You mean like an evolution type of theory?” Vinnie asked pulling up to the curb on Fourth Street where the diner was located.

  “Yeah. Something like that. Something has got to give or I’m going to find my own journey. Create my own Witchy Hour.” I sucked in a deep breath and looked through The Brew’s front windows.

  It was already busy. Many of the regulars were already bellied up to the counter.

  “You leave well enough alone. Your Witchy Hour will be here soon enough.” Vinnie didn’t like me messing with the spirits. “You are messing with your future and that is not up to you.”

  Contrary to what mortals lived by, you can be anything you want to be, not me. I had to be what I was destined to be and I knew in my gut The Brew wasn’t my destiny.

  I grabbed the bundle of herbs and my clutch and opened the door to get out. Once I got out, I glanced around to make sure no one saw me talking to my car. I bent down into the driver’s side and said, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  I shut the door and watched Vinnie zoom down Fourth before I stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the diner.

  The Brew, our family-owned retro style diner, was a great cover for my family’s little secret in Louisville, Kentucky. The residents here loved Kentucky basketball and fast horses, not a family full of witches. I’m not sure how or why my mom and Auntie Meme came to live in Kentucky, but it’s been home to me all my life.

  We fit in. Mom made sure of it. While growing up, during the day Lilith and I went to an all girls school and at night we went to witchery school. Witchery school was taught by Auntie Meme and Mom in our living room.

  We had the latest and greatest clothes. With a flick of my hand, I could make an old rag look like a runway dress. Lilith was the true stylist. In fact, Lilith went to real cosmetology school at a local mortal school after high school. Auntie Meme thought it was great. Mom, on the other hand, thought it was disastrous. Lilith was a sloppy witch and Mom knew it. If Lilith messed up a client’s hair or nails, she’d whip her hand in the air fixing it with magic. If the client knew it, Lilith would wipe their memory and a whole new set of problems would occur. Me, I stayed on the straight and narrow.

  Sure I did my fair share of what we called fun spells, like the whole dare thing Lilith and I played with each other, but other than those, I was on the straight path. My own words tumbled around in my head. Was I destined to take over The Brew?

  Chapter Two

  “You’ve got the counter.” Lilith snapped her head toward the back of the diner when I walked in. Her short black bangs swung along with her shoulder-length bob.

  “Good morning to you too.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed the apron off the hook.

  “I see you are just in time.” Auntie Meme popped her head through the pass way of the kitchen and diner. Her flaming-red-colored hair stuck out in all different directions. Her bright red lips curled into a smile. “Looking as pretty as ever.”

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t help but get in a good mood when I saw her. She was always fun and on my side. “Say,” I leaned in closer to the pass through while tying the back of the apron around my waist. “Do you think I could help with some cooking?”

  Her black eyes jumped, her mouth flung open. “Do you mean to tell me you think you are. . .”

  I didn’t have to hear the end of her sentence to know what she was going to say. She didn’t make it a secret that she wanted me to take over one day. Maybe that was my journey. Create spells like her.

  After all, it wasn’t a bad gig for her. She loved to cook. She loved happy people and people left The Brew happy no matter what type of mood they had when they walked through the door.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to help it along a bit.” I winked, grabbing the order pad from the counter top before going down the line of regulars at the counter.

  “Have a seat!” I called out. It was a habit. When the bell over the diner door dinged, one of us would yell to have a seat, letting the customers know we saw them.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guy in the green sweatshirt, the hood over his head, take a seat at the bar on the far end away from the regulars.

  “Mornin’ Maggie.” Joe Farmer, owner of Farmer’s Dry Cleaners, sat in the first seat.

  “Good morning, Joe.” I winked and nodded my head toward the kitchen. I topped off his coffee and the guy next to him. “Did you ask her out yet?” I asked the widower who had been after Auntie Meme before his wife
got cold in the grave.

  “She won’t even look at me this morning.” He grunted.

  “Giving her cat calls when she comes to the cleaners isn’t going to win her heart,” I said making my way down the line with the steamy pot of coffee, filling cups that needed filling.

  I had given Joe many tips over the past few years on how to win Auntie Meme, but he figured free dry cleaning and cat calling was the way to go. Clearly not.

  “Coffee?” I asked the guy at the end of the counter.

  His head was down. His fingers drummed the counter and his knee bounced up and down.

  “Coffee?” I asked again. Coffee looked like it was the last thing he needed. His nerves were on high alert.

  “Yeah.” He shook his head, slowly lifting his face. He unzipped his sweatshirt and pulled out a small brown paper package and set it on the counter in front of him. “Sure. Coffee.”

  “Cream? Sugar?” I asked, noticing that he had one brown and one white eyebrow. Strange.

  “Order up, Maggie!” Auntie Meme screamed louder than normal through the pass through.

  I jerked my head her way, the coffee pot still dangling from my hand.

  Auntie Meme slightly shook her head. My eyes lowered as I tried to get a read on what she was trying to say to me. A quick second, Auntie Meme’s eyes opened wider, her jaw set.

  “Coffee please,” a male voice came from behind me.

  I twirled around. There was another man in a black sweatshirt next to the white brow guy. He had his hands folded on the counter in front of him, staring ahead.

  “Good morning.” I tried to greet him through the heavy tension between the triangle of the three of us. I flipped his white coffee cup over on the saucer and began to pour.

  I glanced up, getting sucked into the depths of his blue eyes. An unexplainable brittle look hung around them. It was as though it was nervousness, excitement, and a sense of fright balled up on his face.

  I couldn’t help but notice his muscular build underneath the white t-shirt he wore under his hoodie. His hair was as black as mine and with a nice widow’s peak. A sign of a strong man in the witch world.

  Then something unexplainable happened. My insides shuddered as though my entire being was having an earthquake inside. My hand started to shake. I forced my eyes to focus on the coffee pot.

  “Shit.” I plucked a few napkins from the dispenser on the counter and tried to dab the entire pot of coffee I had dumped on it, completely missing the cup.

  It was like slow motion; the streams of coffee were reaching the edge of the counter, about to spill over into the lap of blue eyes. The brown package had already been soaked.

  The hooded customer grabbed the package, coffee dripping off the bottom, and darted out of the diner.

  “I’m sssso. . .” I stuttered. I shook my head bringing me back to the reality of hot coffee dripping all over the good looking guy, one customer had darted, and Auntie Meme was sending me daggers.

  I shut my mouth, put the pot down, and turned around to grab a couple towels from the shelf. When I turned back around, blue eyes was gone. The bell over the diner door swung from his abrupt departure.

  “It looks like you need a night out.” Lilith whispered over my shoulder, lending me a hand with the clean up.

  Chapter Three

  Lilith was right. The rest of the day was miserable. After a packed house for breakfast and lunch, Lilith was off and I was left to finish out my shift. I had the clean up shift. I was responsible for getting everything ready so when Auntie Meme and Lilith came in the next morning, The Brew was ready to open. They didn’t have to worry about refilling the condiments, napkins, place settings; I did all of it.

  “I swear, half of the food Auntie Meme made today made it on the floor.” I sucked in a deep breath and ran the pad of my finger around the shot glass in front of me.

  Lilith and I met up at our hangout, The Derby; which was on the corner of Second Street and Magnolia. It was the only bar in Historic Old Louisville and not too far from The Brew. I had decided to walk down instead of hoping in Vinnie, who didn’t like it one bit.

  I guess he decided on his own that I needed a keeper because he’d rolled down the street beside me as I’d walked. The air was good for my soul.

  “I’m so glad I don’t have your shift.” Lilith lifted her shot glass to her lips. And in one motion she tipped back her head and hand, letting the elixir slide down her throat.

  “You couldn’t handle my shift.” I chased her shot and did my own.

  I lifted my hand in the air, letting Buck know I needed a refill.

  Buck was a stocky five-foot-eight with big round arms and legs. He was a body builder and did a lot of those cage-fighting events. He had asked Lilith and I to come but there was no way I was going to be able to sit there and watch people tear each other up like animals. It was a big business around here. Strange to me why anyone would want to do that, but to each their own.

  Buck was as bald as a cucumber. He wore a knit hat, for fashion as he said, but it still wasn’t a great look. He never strayed from his jeweled jeans with crosses and stuff all over them and shirts to match.

  “I could so do your job,” Lilith said with a snarled lip and a cocked head.

  “You would never get those nails dirty.” My brow lifted in amusement knowing her manicures cost more than she made, yet she mysteriously had enough money to get to the salon on a weekly basis.

  I glanced around at the tables and chairs inside The Derby. It was busier than usual. The bar matched the old feel of the artistic suburb. The interior was dark wood with mahogany wainscoting halfway up the wall. The rest of the way up, to the ceiling, was painted a muted green giving a warm feeling. The stage in the back was buzzing with people with tattoos all over their arms, faces, any visible skin was adorned with body art.

  The shelves behind the bar were lined with bottles and bottles of liquor, especially the delicious bourbons made in Kentucky. The top of the shelf was where local artists displayed their wood carvings of masks, eagles, horses, and a carved pair of a lady’s crossed legs hung over the top.

  “Wanna make a bet on it?” Lilith asked, bringing me back to her dare. An evil smile I knew all too well crept across her pink-stained lips. “A dare?”

  “I’ll take that dare!” It spurted out of my mouth before I could take it back. I had never won a dare from Lilith. Something childish we had been doing. . .well . . . since we were children.

  “That one.” Lilith was snappy and sassy with her cocked brow and turned-up lips. Her long lean finger tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before she uncurled it, pointing through the smoky bar. “That one needs to be a kitty cat for at least one hour.” She wiggled her butt in the stool causing her shoulders to shake in delight. Her lips pursed with snarky spunk.

  The toe of my high-heeled black, knee length boots tapped as I danced them on the ground, twirling my bar stool around. My eyes followed along Lilith’s finger across the dark, smoky bar. I sucked in and took a deep breath before blowing out a steady stream, piercing the dirty air, creating a clear path to the table of men.

  “Oh, now you are being a Lily liver?” Lilith taunted me.

  I twirled back around and took a dollar from my clutch and threw it in Buck’s tip jar knowing Buck would signal the Call To Arms and the group of men would come running to the bar.

  Before I could even throw back the shot Buck set in front of me, he rang the tip trumpet siren from behind the bar setting off the Call To Arms we Louisville, Kentucky residents are all too familiar with since it happens to be the Kentucky Derby anthem.

  Whenever Buck’s tips rose above the black Sharpie marker line on his tip jar sitting on the bar top, he hits a button that plays the trumpeter’s song, sells beer for a dollar and yells, “And they’re off!”

  “Excuse me.” The guy Lilith had pointed to had shoved his way next to me. He raised his muscled arm in the air with his dollar stuck in between his fingers, trying to g
et Buck’s attention. His elbow jabbed me in the side.

  “Watch it,” I growled, trying to ignore the toned bicep that was level with my eyes.

  “Sorry.” He glanced down at me. His sharp blue eyes held mine for a minute. His smile broke the stare. “You are that waitress.” He brought his hand down and shook the dollar bill at me.

  Lilith was leaning over from behind him. A big smile planted across her red painted lips.

  “That one,” she mouthed, pushing her blunt bangs out of her eyes. Her thin hand curled around a cracked shot glass.

  I took a deep breath when I felt the earthquake begin to erupt again from deep within me. He waved his dollar another time before Buck grabbed it out of his hand and slammed a glass full of beer on top of the bar.

  “Cheers,” his voice broke with huskiness. He held the handle of his mug up in the air. The gold in his eyes flicked with interest.

  “Cheers,” I said in a low, seductive tone, clinking his glass with my shot glass of whiskey.

  I lifted the glass to my nose and took a nice long whiff. I could sniff out Makers Mark bourbon anywhere. I tilted my head; my long black hair flowed over my shoulder and past my chest. I smiled.

  The sweet whiskey, smelling of caramel and vanilla landed on the front of my palate, soft and smooth, with a long, warm finish.

  “Ahh.” Satisfaction came out of my mouth and I set the glass down.

  “I’m glad you didn’t spill that.” He let out a soft laugh. His straight, white teeth glowed. “You like the hard stuff, huh?” blue eyes asked. His eyes were sharp and assessing. He stepped back, standing behind me.

  This might be easier than I anticipated, I thought about the dare. I curled a loose strand of my hair around my finger and tapped my feet until I had rolled the barstool to face him.

  “Nothing better.” I lifted my brows in delight. I bit the edge of my lip. “Excuse me.”

  I stood up. His eyes drew down my frame. I tugged on the edge of my tight black knit sweater over the waist of my skinny jeans.