toad witch 04 - aunt tilly were canning demons

by Christiana Miller

  But because it was in a safe neighborhood, with good schools, it cost him $1800 a month. A price that really shocked me and made me miss my old apartment. I could easily fit Nick’s apartment into my old bedroom, and I had only been paying $600 a month in rent.

  “That’s a ridiculous amount of money for this shoebox. Why do you need to be around good schools?” Gus asked Nick. “You’re never gonna have kids.”

  “I might. How do you know?”

  “Because it would mean that a girl not only wanted to sleep with you, but wanted to continue your gene pool. It would be like you getting two Olympic gold medals, in a sport you barely dabble in.”

  “Hey, I do all right,” Nick said, frowning. “Besides, one of us has to continue the family line, and I don’t think it’s going to be you.”

  “I’ve got the looks,” Gus said.

  Which was true. Gus was ridiculously gorgeous. Nick was brawny and friendly-looking, in a comfortable way. Brown hair, brown eyes, slightly oversized Greek nose, and a face that could go from a stone cold brick wall to looking for a reason to laugh, in the blink of an eye.

  “Yeah, but I’ve got the requisite interest in girl parts,” Nick said.

  I laughed. “He’s got you on that.”

  “Thank the Gods. If he had to compete against this for dates,” Gus swept his hand, indicating his entire body, “he wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “You’re such a narcissist,” Nick said, rolling his eyes.

  “Because I know my fair market value? Oh, please. Besides, how do you plan to fit a wife and babies in this shoebox? It’s a TARDIS in reverse—bigger on the outside than it is on the inside.”

  “Still a Dr. Who nerd, I see.”

  “Personally, I’m surprised you caught the reference. I thought it would be above your IQ level.”

  I looked around at Nick’s studio. In the main room, there was a massive California King-sized bed, a sofa, a desk with a chair, and bookshelves. The walk-in had a dresser and a weapons safe. Although it was weird having to walk through the closet to get to the bathroom. And the mini-kitchen was clean with a stove and refrigerator.

  “How are we going to do this?” I asked, looking around.

  “Well, cookie, we’re all adults,” Nick said. “We’ll either have to share the bed, or if anyone has a problem with that, they can sleep on the sofa. Or I can put pillows and blankets down on the floor of the closet, if Gus really wants to rough it.”

  “I’ve never been in the closet my entire life,” Gus said. “I’m not about to start now.”

  “Bed it is,” Nick said. “Mara, you get middle. I’d rather wake up spooning you, than my full-of-himself brother.”

  “I’d rather not get spooned by either of you,” I said. The thought of being in the middle of the two of them was already making me feel claustrophobic.

  Nick must have noticed the look on my face, because he sighed. “Fine, you two have the bed, I’ll take the couch. But this is temporary, you hear me? As soon as that cottage is cleaned out, it’s adios, muchachos.”

  “Whatever,” Gus said. “I’m going to take a shower. Try not to hit on the pregnant lady while I’m gone.” And with that, Gus disappeared into the closet.

  ONCE THE WATER WAS RUNNING, I turned to Nick. “Can you help me?”

  “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

  “No, I mean…with something personal.”

  “You finally come to your senses about the downside of pinning your life to my brother?”

  “Gus? No. We’re going to be friends forever. I need help with my brother.”

  “Since when do you have a brother?”

  I sighed. “A half-brother. I just found out a few months ago. I want to track him down, but I don’t know how to do stuff like that.”

  Nick sat down and I told him everything, while he took notes.

  “I don’t have much to go on. He looks like me, if I’m dressed in drag, and his name is Vin. I don’t know if it’s short for anything. Vincent or Gavin or Kevin or Vincenzo or Calvin or any name that starts or ends in a Vin sound. My mom’s maiden name was McDougal, and he may have kept it or he may have taken his adoptive parents name. Their name is the same as something you’d find at a church, but I don’t know what. Ruby couldn’t remember it. Or he may be like Cher and just use Vin as his name. He’s supposed to be somewhere near Los Angeles, in a city that starts with the letter “S” and he’d be in his early thirties.”

  “You’re not giving me much to go on.”

  I racked my brain, to see if there was anything else. “I think he may be involved in something that’s not acceptable to mainstream America. I keep being warned away from him. Could be something illegal, could be something occult, could be a combination, I don’t know.”

  “So, you want me to find a guy who could be a criminal or a weirdo or criminally insane, because… Why? Seems like you should leave this alone.”

  I sighed. “I can’t. I can’t really explain it, but I would really, really like to find him.”

  “Just because we share DNA with people doesn’t mean that they won’t harm us. You may want to rethink this. I would hate to see you become the victim of some psycho.”

  “He’s my brother.”

  “Family isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be,” he said.

  “Spoken like someone who has family he can ignore,” I said. I could feel the tears starting. “I’m tired of being alone in the world. I need people. If I have family somewhere, anywhere, I want to get to know them.”

  “You could always join a coven. Gran says it’s like having an instant family.”

  I gave a short laugh. “More like people who claim they’re your family, as long as it’s convenient, or useful for them. As soon as you become inconvenient, or you don’t toe their line, they have no idea who you are anymore. Gus went through that with his last coven. It’s why we’re both solitaries.”

  “And now you’re a solitary who’s tired of being alone?”

  “You don’t understand. You have family. You have lots of people in your life. I don’t. Gus comes and goes, depending on his dating life. And when he’s gone, my life is just me, a cantankerous ghost, the Dobies and now, a zombie toad. And soon, a baby. But that’s it.”

  “That doesn’t sound bad to me. That’s a pretty full life.”

  “No, it’s not!” I was almost shouting, I was so exasperated. “I’m about to have a baby who’s going to have no extended family and a father who refuses to acknowledge his role. How claustrophobic is that life going to be? Growing up with just me as a full-time parent, and a part-time MacDaddy, whenever Gus is around, and no one else? I don’t want my baby to have the same, lonely, rootless life that I did. Will you help me or not? Please?”

  He sighed and closed his notepad. “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do. And not for nothing, Mara, but you have our family too. You know they think of you as one of their own kids. So you’re not completely on your own. If you feel alone, it’s because you’re choosing to be alone.”

  GUS CAME out of the shower, singing and towel-drying his hair.

  “Dude! Have some respect and put the towel around your waist. No one needs to see that,” Nick said, holding his hand in front of his eyes.

  “It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before,” Gus said. “You really need to get over your body issue hang-ups.” But he wrapped the towel around his waist.

  Nick put his hand down. “While you’re staying with me, clothing will be worn at all times. Even if she doesn’t care, I don’t need to see your junk.”

  Gus looked at me, then at Nick. “Too bad. I don’t sleep clothed. I don’t even own pajamas. Or underwear.”

  “Dude, TMI. And, you’re going to start. You can borrow a pair of my sleeping shorts for now, and tomorrow, we’re going to Target. Consider this a practice run for when the baby arrives. Your nudist days are about to be permanently curtailed.”

  Gus shook his head, muttering about how ridiculou
s Nick was, and how we needed to get out of there, asap.

  “Sure you wouldn’t rather share a bed with me, doll?” Nick asked, winking at me, as he made up the sofa. “I snore, but you don’t have to worry about my junk flopping on you. And I give great cuddles. And back rubs. Leastways, that’s what I’ve been told.”

  I’ll just bet he did.

  “My front rubs are even better.”

  “Hey, keep thy grubby hands to thyself, and stop trying to poach my craft-wife,” Gus said, frowning at him. “Go find a woman of your own to be a horn dog with.”

  “It’s not like you’re doing anything with her. Her guy doesn’t seem to be in the picture anymore. And she’s much too interesting to be allowed to gather dust on a shelf.”

  “Would you both stop talking about me, like I’m not here? I’m not some toy you can fight over.” I turned to Nick. “I’m good with the sleeping arrangements, as is. But if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know. Possibly the second, if I have to kick Gus’s junk out of the way.”

  “That’s all I’m asking,” Nick said, grinning.

  Gus rolled his eyes and went back into the closet to brush his teeth.

  TOMORROW WAS MONDAY, and typically, the Crooked Pantry was always closed on Mondays. So, Gus and I were going try and clean the entire place up before we re-opened the store for business on Tuesday.

  All the excitement must have caught up to me though. I was so exhausted, I fell sound asleep. No dreams, nothing but darkness.

  When I finally woke up, the room was still pitch black. It took me a minute to remember that Nick had black-out curtains on the windows. When I pulled them open, and looked at the clock, I was surprised to find out that morning had come and gone. It was two in the afternoon, and I was here alone. Just me and the baby-to-be, and a note from the guys saying they left this morning to clear out Mama Lua’s cottage.

  I patted my gargantuan stomach. “Thanks for helping me miss that,” I said. “I think we’re getting the better end of that deal.”

  I put on a kettle and made a pot of tea. I may as well use the free time for a scrying session. Once the tea was done, I took a butter knife and started deliberately milling it in the tea cup, stirring it hard and slow in a counter-clockwise direction (widdershins). It was like crafting a mini-mill in a teacup. If you stir it clockwise (deosil), you can use it for spellcrafting. Stirring it widdershins helps with second sight, astral travel and workings in other realms.

  As I stirred, I cast my sight into the future.

  I was back in the room with the man. But this time, it was a different man. He was younger, brown hair, brown eyes, a sharp nose that reminded me of an eagle’s beak, and he must have either had perfect vision or was wearing contacts. He raised his hand, and I could see light glinting off the blade of the knife he was holding. I didn’t have time to scream as he plunged it down, into my belly.

  What the hell?! I stopped stirring, poured the tea into the toilet and flushed it. No way was I drinking that.

  I thought my leaving Devil’s Point was going to negate that vision. Instead, it changed the who, but not the what.

  Damn it. I ran the shower and stepped into it, to try and wash the vision away, down the drain with the dirty water.

  I HAD JUST FINISHED GETTING DRESSED when I heard coughing in the hallway. I opened the door, and Nick came stumbling in.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Do I look all right?” Nick asked, in the middle of another coughing spasm.

  I took a step back. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Fuck if I know,” Nick said. “It’s got to be something in that cottage. I came back to get dust masks.” He rooted around in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink until he found the box of masks.

  “That’s an odd thing to have laying around,” I said.

  “You’d be surprised how often they come in handy,” Nick said, coughing. He grabbed the box and started back out the door.

  “Hold on, I’ll come with you,” I said, jamming my feet into my over-sized crocs.

  “I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Nick said. “It’s nasty over there.”

  “You have a box of masks. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” he said, and the way he drawled out that word, I could tell he wasn’t happy. But at least he didn’t lecture me about where a pregnant woman’s place was, so points for him.

  WHEN WE GOT THERE, Gus was outside the cottage, doubled over, coughing. Nick handed me a mask, and I put it on before I did anything else. Wearing a dust mask is hot and annoying and weirdly smelly. I don’t know how people tolerate it for long stretches of time. But it was better than the alternative.

  I walked around the yard, acclimating to the mask. Gus had pulled one of the store dumpsters over to the house, and it was full of garbage, rotting food and broken things. The intact furniture that had been pulled out of the cottage, was all in the back yard.

  “Why is everything out here?” I asked. “What are you going to do with it?”

  Gus held up a finger, indicating he’d answer once he finished coughing. “We’ve been cleaning it. I don’t know what’s going on with the furniture, but we both agreed that you shouldn’t be anywhere near it, until it’s been completely scrubbed. And since we can’t stay at Nick’s forever…”

  “That’s for sure,” muttered Nick.

  Gus chugged down half a bottle of water, before he started talking again. “Nick and I decided to move all of Mama Lua’s broken and junky shit into her garage, and guess what? It’s not a garage.”

  There was a smaller building behind Mama Lua’s cottage, that we all had assumed was the garage. But when I opened the door, I was surprised to see that it was a bedroom.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. So we started cleaning in there, taking everything apart, getting rid of this bizarre, white talc-like dust that seems to be covering all of her wood furniture.”

  I looked around. “You did a great job. This place actually looks livable.” It not only looked clean, it smelled clean.

  Gus nodded. “Thank you. I even washed the pillows.”

  I nodded and walked into the cottage while they were hacking up a lung outside. I was a little hesitant after my experience yesterday, but the smell was a lot better. Not great, but not gag-worthy, thanks to Gus and Nick throwing out all that rotting food.

  The kitchen counter was full of cleaning supplies, but judging by the condition of the floor, and the bloody sigils still on the wall, they hadn’t been used in here yet.

  I was surprised how small the place was. Kitchen, living room, bathroom. It was more like a studio apartment than a house. I had no idea how Mama Lua had crammed all the furniture that was outside, inside the place.

  It was no wonder she had converted the garage into a master bedroom. Although I wondered how healthy that was. Didn’t garages have a high lead content from all the years they spent housing cars and their exhaust fumes? That couldn’t be safe for the baby, could it? Although it was probably safer than sleeping in the cottage, or outside, behind the store. And it was only temporary.

  I walked back out into the yard, where the guys were sipping water and coughing. “It sounds like the TB ward at a hospital out here.”

  “Everything’s covered with this fucking weird-ass dust,” Nick said. “It’s crazy. It was so thick, clouds of it fucking rose up when we took out drawers to clean them. I should have brought the fucking masks with me this morning.”

  Gus nodded. “Mama Lua and I have got to have a serious talk about housekeeping.”

  “Did she ever text you back?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Gus said. “I wish she would. I’d love to know what that white stuff is on the furniture. It looks like talcum powder.”

  “No one would use baby powder on their furniture, butt head,” Nick said, and coughed. “Desks don’t get diaper rash.”

  “No one uses talc on baby’s butts anymore, moron. Not since they figured out it causes ova
rian cancer.”

  I checked out the furniture, to see what they were talking about. The unfinished undersides and the insides of the drawers all had this weird coating of white talc-like stuff. “Oh, crap. This isn’t dust. And it’s not talcum powder either.”

  “What is it, then?” Gus asked, still coughing.

  “Guess. Go on. You know this. You’ve seen this before.” I was so glad I had the mask on.

  “Drywall powder? Paint powder? Powderpost beetle residue? White mold?” Nick guessed.

  “Cocaine? Anthrax? Graveyard dust? Cremated remains?” Gus guessed.

  “Diatomaceous earth. It’s a natural pesticide, but it’s hell on lungs.”

  “Diato-what? How do you know that?” Nick asked, coughing some more.

  “I know a lot of granola witches who use it. Well, I used to know them, when we lived in Los Angeles,” I amended. “I hate the stuff. But then, I hate pesticides in general. Diatomaceous earth works by desiccating the outer skeleton of bugs, but it desiccates your lungs as well. That’s why you’re both coughing. You must have inhaled a lot. We need to get you guys away from here, and into a room with a humidifier.”

  “Fuck that. I’m hitting the steam room at the gym,” Nick said.

  “Hot, sweaty, naked men? I’m in,” Gus said, coughing.

  “What about the cottage?” I asked.

  “Fuck it. We’ve done enough. I’ll get our crime scene cleaners out here, they can finish it. We should have done that to begin with. No good deed goes un-fucking-punished.” Nick said. “Can you stay and supervise when they get here? I’ll text them your cell number.”

  Great. My least favorite task in the world. Staying alone at Mama Lua’s.

  “Sure. Piece of cake. After all, what can go wrong?” But even as I said it, I felt a hollow pit open in my stomach. I guess it was my turn to be punished for a good deed.

  CHAPTER 7

  After they left, I went to wait in the store. At least, I could hang out with Aunt Tillie until the cleaners arrived, and try to get rid of the dust in there.