Witch on a Roll

by Evelyn Snow

  “Is that why I found milk jugs and rags and elder branches in the shed? All that stuff was to make traps?”

  He nodded. “I would have made more, only you used the last of my supplies on that project of yours.”

  “You could have told me, you know.” I was sick of secrets, but also secretly relieved. There was another reason why Marley had malfunctioned.

  “I’ve been doing my best to discourage you from a life wrapped up in magic or have you not been paying attention?”

  “Wait.” I lifted my hands, closing my eyes for a second to clear my head. “The point is that neelies aren’t real. They’re storybook demons from the Nightingale Lands who eat kids who don’t finish their spinach or go to bed on time.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard about one appearing in the Greater World,” Uncle Delano admitted, “but neelies are very real. Your dad claimed the Pale drew them the way moths in this world cluster around a streetlight. If he was right and they’re attuned to the energies of the fault, it might not be farfetched that a neelie could cross over. Once they were in this world, I’d think they’d have a hard time manifesting in physical form.”

  “What did Aunt Phoebe see?”

  “She describes it as a monster that sometimes looks like a white cat.”

  I bolted to my feet. “Here? In this shed? Where? Show me.”

  My uncle pointed to a spot on the floor. “That’s where one of the bullets went through. I was looking the other way at the time, so I didn’t see the creature.” He shook his head. “First thing I should have done was take the gun out of her hands.”

  Squatting, I ran my fingers over the hole in the painted wooden floorboards. The hole was clean. There was no sign of blood. I rose and scanned the shed. Nothing else seemed out of place.

  When I was sitting on the daybed once more, I asked, “Even if neelies are real, Aunt Phoebe saw a cat. Why would she shoot it? That doesn’t sound like her. She loves animals.”

  “According to her, this creature has glowing eyes and big teeth and threatens to eat her on a regular basis. She also claims it talks to the roses and tries to incite them into attacking her. She came in from working out in the yard one day and showed me where one of the rose bushes allegedly sliced through her gloves and gave her nasty cut.” He sighed heavily. “I confess I didn’t take her seriously when she said the roses were fighting back. Then I made the mistake of suggesting she was too big for a cat to attack or eat. She said I’d called her fat. After that, there was a lot of yelling.”

  “Uncle Delano, you’re talking about my cat. She was pure white and mean and she called me fat, too.”

  He frowned. “You never had a cat. Your aunt’s allergic.” His eyes widened. “Wait—you mean when you were little—before?”

  “I had a cat named Ophelia, Phee for short. That last day, I begged Mom and Dad to let me bring her with me to visit you. They said no. I couldn’t take her across the bridge because she was magical, and nothing magical could pass through the Pale.” I shook my head as memories surged. “When they said Phee was magical, I thought they meant she was special. To me, she was special. If she walked through a mud puddle, her fur stayed clean and perfectly white. When I was a kid, I couldn’t set foot outdoors for five minutes without getting my clothes dirty.”

  “Your Phee could have been the same neelie your dad caught on the antenna,” he said in a considering tone. “The time frame matches.”

  Quickly, I filled him in on how I’d never known if we had locked Phee in the house. “If neelies live between the worlds and she wasn’t trapped inside, she might have crossed over, right? That’s why she’s been showing up. She’s trying to find me.”

  My uncle struggled to hide his skepticism and failed. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  I didn’t care. Phee, my Phee, wasn’t lost. She wasn’t locked in our old house. “When was the first time Aunt Phoebe saw her?”

  He had to think for a minute. “Toward end of that summer when you disappeared for three months.” He was talking about when Holden and I went to Serenity Point five years ago.

  “How often did she appear after that?”

  “Phoebe didn’t tell me the first time it happened. I didn’t find out until much later. I’m guessing it was a year or more before she finally broke down and told me. Thought she was going crazy, seeing things. That’s why she kept quiet.”

  “Are you sure you’ve seen it yourself?” I pressed.

  “How could I know it’s a neelie if I hadn’t seen it?”

  “But my dad couldn’t see Phee, and he was human like you. How could you—”

  “Evie, your dad wasn’t—”

  “If it’s been five years, why wouldn’t Phee have shown herself to me? How could Aunt Phoebe see her? My mom couldn’t and she was a witch.” I wrapped my arms around my middle, fighting a hollow feeling in my gut.

  “I can’t give you a definitive answer,” he insisted. “If you want as much of the truth as I know, I’ll give it to you, but I need you to tell me you’re ready. After this, there’s no going back.”

  Chapter 24

  Sitting there on the daybed in his PJs, my uncle seemed smaller than before. The fierce certainty he wore like a favorite T-shirt had faded. In its place, I saw a man of a certain age, short on sleep, who’d been carrying a burden far too long.

  The hollow feeling spread while a swell of nausea filled my stomach. I thought about telling him no, I’ll pass on the red pill, but that would be a lie. I’d promised myself I would not play dumb any longer. No more sidestepping to keep the peace. The only way I could go forward was with the truth.

  “Uncle Delano, I think we passed the point of no return a while back.”

  He began in a distant voice, speaking as if he was watching a screen I couldn’t see. “You were so young when Derek and Jasmine died. Didn’t know your times tables. You could read like a champ, though.” He rested his forearms on his thighs and studied the floor. “My world fell apart when I thought all three of you died. Then that shifter brought you to us, and I found a way to go on. It wasn’t easy. Phoebe and I didn’t know how to raise a kid. The old bridge was gone and the new one wasn’t built yet. You were this lost little thing, all big eyes and curly hair. It was a miracle you’d survived. More miracles that someone found you and then found us. All we wanted to do was wrap you in our arms and keep you safe. Your life was here.”

  He looked up, tears forming in his eyes. “We wanted you to have your best life … here … in a world where it didn’t matter you were a jinx. Where no one would judge you or be afraid of you because you were a jinx.”

  “What you do you mean? Of course, I’m a Jinx. It can’t be a secret when it’s on my high school diploma and my driver’s license and my—”

  “I don’t mean your name. I’m talking about what you are, Evie. Your mother was a witch. Holden is a shifter. Like your father and your uncle, you are a jinx. We weren’t sure when you were born because you didn’t have a twin and jinxes are almost always twins. Later, well … later, it was obvious.”

  Everything went silent. I could feel the vibration in the floorboards when a big garbage truck passed on the street on the other side of the house. I couldn’t hear it though. It felt as if a giant had lowered a bell jar around the shed and shut out the world.

  Cassandra’s furious face loomed in my minds’ eye. Don’t you know she’s a…

  Jinx.

  Everyone had known, everyone but me. They had known that day when I returned to Serenity Point and interrupted Cassandra’s test. They had known what I was and locked me in a dungeon. I didn’t know why. The answer had been there all the time—if I’d known where to look—in the reflection in their eyes. Even powerful stormbringers feared a jinx.

  “What does it mean … to be a jinx?” My voice started small and soft, my words precise, as if I were afraid the syllables might crack under pressure. “My dad said he was an ordinary guy who fell in love with a witch. What does it me
an I don’t have a twin? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “No one has ever known where we came from originally. If there’s a box—any kind of box—we’re always on the outside. Jinxes have magic, but it works differently through us than it does in other supernatural beings. We’re the incarnation of the number thirteen. We’re a Halloween that walks and talks and never bothers with a costume. We’re every spooky coincidence a human ever feared while cowering in the dark. We’re the zag that follows a zig. We’re the Hanged Man and the Forest King; the Green Woman and the Red Queen. We’re the scary premonition that makes someone double-check the doors and windows. The strange synchronicity, the creepy-crawlies, the magic seven, the squared circle, and anything that goes bump. We’re the dark and stormy night and the calm morning after. We’re the monster under the bed and the angel on the shoulder.”

  “Does that make us good or bad?”

  “Leave good and bad to the witches and wizards. We’re both … and neither. Magic is full of categories. There’s no place for a jinx in any of them. We don’t play well with others, and we don’t fit in. We scare them. Sometimes they’re right. We should scare them.”

  “My mom was a witch. I don’t have a twin. What does that make me?”

  “Nine times out of ten jinxes are born twins. When you didn’t have one, we assumed it meant you might be merely a witch.”

  I must have telegraphed outrage because my uncle raised his hands and added, “Whoa! All I meant was we thought you were all witch and zero jinx—no disrespect. Growing up, you settled in to being a witch like it came naturally, so I left it at that.”

  “If you knew I was a jinx, why did you let me believe I was a witch?”

  He shrugged. “It was safer that way. We've been harassed, hunted, and persecuted in most centuries.”

  “You should have told me. When I returned to Serenity Point, they knew. They acted like I was a walking disease. I didn’t understand.”

  “Don’t let them fool you,” he said, shaking his head. “They might have suspected what you were, but they didn’t know for sure. I think that’s why they kept pressing you about your identity. In the end, they came to the conclusion because you survived the bridge collapse, sweetheart. Only a jinx could have lived through it.”

  “But if my dad was a jinx, why didn’t he live?”

  “We’ll never know for sure what happened. Magic powers the universes, but universes bend and twist around a jinx. Sometimes that’s a good and beneficial thing. Other times…” He dragged a hand across his eyes. “Maybe if I’d been in the car that day … I don’t know.”

  He rested a hand on mine. “Jinx magic doesn’t normally work in isolation. Without me there to help, your dad had to find someone else to pair with. He could connect with your mother’s power to save her. Or, he could connect with your magic and save you. He had to choose. If you ask me, he made the right decision.”

  I shivered at the memories flooding back, glad I didn’t have to explain them to anyone. My dad reading the newspaper while my mom drove. Her smile. His mellow, rumbly voice when he asked her a question.

  “I know my brother, Evie. If there was any way he could have saved both of you, he would have sacrificed himself without a second thought. He saved his baby girl. If your mom had a say in it, I’m sure she would have agreed. Your parents loved you more than anything.”

  A rush of grief hit me hard and fast. It was a punch that forced a quick breath against pain that cut a hole right through me. It was a minute before I could breathe again and before the haze cleared from my vision. Then I remembered—my dad’s newspaper as it turned into white wings—and I was floating through the clouds.

  I stared at my uncle. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. “What about you? You lost your twin when my dad died. Is that what Aunt Phoebe meant when she said you’d lost your power?”

  He stared at me for a while, making a silent assessment. “A jinx without his twin is … something or nothing. I honestly don’t know. I never expected to find out. Most jinxes don’t survive the loss of a brother or sister.”

  “What happens to them?”

  “They die one way or another. Freak accident. An unexpected, fast-acting illness. It could be anything. After Derek died, I kept waiting for a piano to fall on my head. Phoebe started seeing threats around every corner. She was determined to keep me alive by the sheer force of her will, if that’s what it took. In the meantime, I had a little girl to raise. I put aside magic and got on with my life. No one has been more surprised than me that I didn’t disappear into the Pale with my brother.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t die, but I still don’t know what I am.”

  He lifted my chin with two fingers. “Are you sure about that? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you know exactly what you are.”

  “How’s that?”

  “If Devi Talbot gave you a badge, it wasn’t out of kindness or charity or because she and your mom were best buddies once upon a time. She expects something from you, Evie. Whatever it is, make sure it’s something you’re willing to give.”

  I let out a long breath. “I have so many questions. I don’t know where to start.”

  “They’ll wait. Get something to eat and take a nap, not necessarily in that order. We can talk later. I’ve got to get to work. I’m meeting with someone I think you know—Dylan Maddox? He said he ran into you the other night.”

  “Yeah, it’s a small world, apparently. Are you writing another series on ODiN?”

  “Not exactly. I don’t like that you’re wrapped up in anything connected to him.”

  “You make it sound like we’re dating. We’re not.”

  “Be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “When am I not careful?”

  He snorted. “Do you really expect me to answer?”

  “I guess not.”

  When he got to his feet, the tire iron—which I must have leaned against the desk at some point—fell over and clanged on the floor. Uncle Delano picked it up and hefted it in his hand. “This is an oldie but goodie. One of Holden’s antiques?”

  “Something like that. Will you stick it in his car for me?”

  My uncle lifted a brow. “Since when does Holden have a car?”

  “It’s a long story involving a demon and a poker game.”

  “Oh-kay, then.”

  After he disappeared into the house, I curled up on the daybed, pulled the quilt under my chin, and closed my eyes.

  * * *

  I woke with sun overhead and the yowl of an angry cat echoing in my head.

  Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes, expecting to see the neighbor’s tabby glaring at me from the end of the daybed. Aunt Phoebe set out treats for her. If my aunt skipped a day, the cat let her know about it.

  When I swung my feet to the ground, I woke up enough to discover I was alone. The yowl had chased me from my dream. There was more there if only I could tease it out. I stilled, afraid if I moved again the fragments that had stuck with me would fade.

  The dream had been about the bridge. It was always the bridge…

  High above me, dark magic swirled around the spire. A white cat perched on the peaked roof of the Crossing House, swatting at something small flitting beyond the reach of her claws, laughing and taunting in a high, tinkling voice.

  From the ground, the professor craned his neck, looking up. One hand shielded his eyes, but why? There was no need. The endless gray sky had buried the sun.

  At first, I thought Ashmore was watching the cat. Then he lifted his hand away from his brow in a sweeping wave. It wasn’t a natural movement. He released a spell. As he did so, the light on the spire turned purple. The cat launched into the air and hit the ground running.

  Magic streaked through the clouds of the Pale. I flew in pursuit on tiny wings, watching the coastal terrain shift from beach to marshlands to cliffs and finally, a black strip of highway appeared. The arc of magic banked north, following the road.

 
; Once it reached the city, the stream descended, skimming over the streets in a purple flood. When it reached Mulberry Street, the magic smashed into the house at 1712. Light washed the structure. Through the suddenly transparent walls, I spotted where a man in a dark suit sat with his head propped on one hand. He stared at a cell phone as if he could will it to ring.

  A few feet away stood a young woman. She’d wrapped her head in a white towel and wore a pink bathrobe. As the magic slammed into the house and then spread, her mouth opened in a small oh of wonder. I thought she smiled. It was hard to tell because a moment later, she vanished in a blast of color and fire.

  Chapter 25

  “When Mo finds out you’ve been stonewalling us, she won’t be happy.” Holden put what I judged to be the proper mix of attitude together with a hint of warning in his tone.

  The receptionist at the law firm of Shade & Shade in downtown Montemar wasn’t buying it. She was a petite redhead with long bright pink nails that could have been registered as deadly weapons.

  “I’m sorry, but without an appointment Ms. Shade won’t be able to see you today.” Her expression remained professionally bland, and she even managed to look unimpressed by Holden’s glower. “Her schedule is completely booked.”

  As far as I could tell, the receptionist wasn’t a supernatural of any kind. While I’d never been a fan of those who got their jollies trashing ordinary humans, the woman behind the mahogany desk pushed my buttons.

  So far, I’d let Holden do the talking and spent my time biting my tongue, not sure I trusted what would come out of my mouth if I lifted my internal gag.

  I was still reeling from what I’d learned from Uncle Delano. I couldn’t think about what he’d told me. Instead, it was easier to speculate how this woman remained calm in the face of an angry werewolf. Didn’t she have an ounce of intuition? What about a basic instinct for self-preservation? Six-feet-two inches of cranky shifter running on too little sleep and Aunt Phoebe’s pancakes wasn’t anything a smart person ignored.