“You’re pretty hot for a spy. Do you like, seduce Russians or something? Are we going to nuke Gorbachev?”
Oh boy.
He walked over to my refrigerator, opened it like he owned the place. “All you have in here is tofu and oranges.” He filtered around in there for a minute and said, “What the hell is Red Bull?”
He pulled out a can and examined it.
“It’s an energy drink, and you can’t have any.”
“Why not?”
“Because dead people don’t eat or drink.”
He cocked his head sideways, sizing me up. “Okay. If you’re going to kill me, spy girl, at least let me see your boobies first.”
It shouldn’t have, but it took me a minute of absorbing his energy to see that this spirit had no idea what he was. Which made my job a whole lot more difficult. This was uncharted territory for me and I wasn’t sure of the best way to handle it.
“What’s your name?”
“Didn’t we just cover this?”
“I’m not going to show you my boobs.”
“Why not?”
“Is that a serious question?”
He leaned up against the counter. “Gretchen Shovler showed me her boobs once. I had to show her mine first.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“We were in second grade.”
I dropped my head into my hands.
“You got any music?” He wound around the counter to explore my living room. “Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, AC/DC? You’re not into Madonna are you?” That’s when he noticed my sword.
“Check it out!” He yanked it from the wall where I had hung it earlier and I cringed. “You are a badass chick!”
It had been startling enough when spirits first began communicating with me. Even more disturbing when I discovered they could touch me. Perhaps most unsettling was the ghost who tried to kill me. But to have one in my cottage, young and untamed and not even knowing he was dead, thrashing my own sword around like a light saber, well, that’s the straw that broke the Seeker’s back. I stretched my hand out and called to my sword. It ripped itself from his grip and sailed into my own.
“Also not a toy,” I said. Though Tisiphone might disagree. I put the sword back in my bedroom and grabbed my phone.
There were a few texts from my mother, but before I had a chance to read them, the kid-ghost yanked it out of my hand.
“Wow, this is awesome! What is it, like some sort of walkie-talkie thingy?”
Did they not teach manners in the eighties?
“Yes, it’s some sort of walkie-talkie thingy. Now put it down, and quit touching my stuff.”
He obliged and saluted me. I scooped up the phone and held it. I ran my fingers through my hair and asked, one last time. “Please tell me your name.”
“Tell me yours first,” he said.
I so did not have the time or patience for this. I wondered if there was a necromancer support group. Maybe a network I didn’t know about where I could transfer a difficult case to another ghost whisperer? Good goddess, I would pay for that right now.
“Stacy.”
He frowned. “That’s not a very good spy name.” Then he brightened. “What’s your last name?”
Good grief. “Justice.”
He considered the possibilities of my potential to become the next 007 for a moment.
“Nah. Too obvious,” he decided. “I’m going to call you Red. You know, because of your hair.” He glanced at the energy drink in his hand. “Red Bull! Now that is a badass spy name.”
I stood there for several pounding heartbeats considering my options. Finally, I decided that this particular situation could wait. Plus, I was getting tired of being asked to flash my headlights. I picked up my tablet, sat the kid on the couch, typed ‘boobies’ into the search engine and told him not to move until I returned.
“Bring me back a cheeseburger!” He called as I rushed out the door.
This was not the most responsible action plan, but the kid was already dead, and I figured I couldn’t possibly corrupt him anymore than he already was.
I was wrong.
Chapter 27
Thor and the white rabbit were gone when I left the cottage. Probably off to some sort of witches’ familiars training seminar. Cinnamon called just before I reached the back door of the Geraghty Girls house.
“Hey, Cousin.”
“Hey, Stacy. Listen, Tony’s parents are insisting I come to dinner tonight and Daphne has a family thing, so I was wondering—and I can’t believe I’m going to say this—would you begin training Monique tonight? I’m expecting a post-game crowd and the family was all going to pop over for an after dinner drink, maybe even have dinner there.”
“Sure, Cin, whatever you need. How are you feeling?”
She sighed. “I’d feel a lot better if everyone would stop asking me how I feel.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s not you. It’s everyone else treating me like a wounded bird, but to answer your question, I feel great. I feel strong, actually.”
“You sound good. Just don’t let the clan get to you. Okay?”
“I’m trying. Hey, Stacy, did you ever get a chance to look into that thing we found?”
I knew what she meant. The passage in the book. The one about the child who would join the Seeker. I still hadn’t gotten a chance to ask my mother about that or about seeing Uncle Deck driving in town the other day.
“Not yet. I’m headed into the house now, though. I’ll see what they can tell me.”
We said our goodbyes and I texted Monique and asked her to meet me at the Black Opal at six p.m. if she still wanted a job. She agreed and I stuffed the phone in my pocket. I stood there a few moments, tapping my brain, feeling for the right thing to do. I wasn’t sure if I should bring up the missing page because I was afraid that one of my own had cut it in the first place, but I had no idea why.
After a few seconds, a warmth came over me, a certainty. Like the sky is blue and the grass is green and fairies are real. It was time to ask my mother—no—demand that she tell me what she knew about the passage and the missing page that looked to have been so expertly sliced out of the book that whoever did it didn’t even leave a seam. Plus, I had to ask her if my uncle was still alive.
The back door was open and I let myself in. There were trays of wilted cold cuts, stale bread and half-eaten cheese dips spread across the counters. Piles of empty beer and wine bottles overflowed the sink, and plastic cutlery was strewn about the apothecary table like fallen soldiers.
What the hell? This was not how the Geraghty Girls threw a party. They were neat, orderly, borderline obsessive compulsive.
I hurried down the hall and into the living room to find four Italian men—also a small dog I recognized as Carmen’s Bianca—strewn about the sofas and floors like the aftermath of a frat party.
My mother had her coat on, and she was standing at the door, hand on the handle.
“Freeze!” I said.
She turned around and said, “There you are. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
I eyed her suspiciously. “Who was my first grade teacher?”
Mom, at least I thought it was her, rolled her eyes. “Are you going to quiz me every time you see me?”
“Pretty much.”
Mom gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Miss Peabody. You liked her because she smelled of kettle corn and moonbeams.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Now that that’s over, want to explain why this place looks like a rooftop party after a Cubs game?”
“Not especially.”
“Mom!”
She let her hand slip from the door reluctantly, danced around Mario and a man who appeared to be Mario’s older twin, and walked over to me. She darted her eyes around the room, making sure no one was eavesdropping. No chance of that, since everyone looked to be in a coma.
“They’ve lost it. All of them. They’re acting impulsive, impatient and just plain goofy. They
didn’t even want to do anything we discussed yesterday, and when they finally got around to inviting Cinnamon’s family over, they just stuffed them full of food and booze and...I don’t know—something that knocked everyone out.” She looked around the room, a scowl on her face.
“So you were just going to bail and leave me with this mess?” Because I would have done the same thing, but I’d been putting up with it all my life—she’d had them for five minutes.
A trickle of guilt slid down her face and disappeared like a raindrop. “I don’t have a choice. I have a friend who’s in crisis, and she needs me. It’s really important.”
“I need you, Mom. There’s a few things I need to discuss with you.”
Mom sighed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I swear.” Her eyes trailed the room from limp body to limp body. “They’ll be out for a while. Whatever Lolly laced the food with seems to be a bit more potent than anticipated. They were getting loud and rowdy and the ruckus was giving her a headache.”
Lolly was known for her knockout tea, but I didn’t recall her using her potions in food. “So she still has magic?” That had been begging on my mind for a while. I wasn’t sure what skills, if any, the three of them still possessed.
Behind me, Birdie slurred, “Well of course we do. We’re still witches, Stacy.”
Lolly hiccupped. “Just not very good ones.”
“Like you used to be.” Fiona giggled.
I spun around to find my grandmother and her two sisters hammered out of their heads.
“Oh hell no,” I said. “You are not leaving me here with Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, Mom.” But when I turned back, my mother was gone.
I pulled the phone out of my pocket and texted her. I have to work at the Black Opal tonight. You have two hours. And I WILL return the favor.
She texted back. I love you too, favorite daughter of mine.
I faced the Geraghty Girls again. Pointed over their heads. “Kitchen. Now.”
Fiona snorted. “Oooh, we’re in trouble.” She was wearing a Cubs hat, facing backwards, black yoga pants, and a Batman tee shirt. Not a stitch of makeup.
Birdie bent over and cackled like a crow. Her attire was a bit more her style, Bohemian skirt and gauzy blouse. Although the fedora was disturbing. I suspected that belonged to one of the passed-out partygoers.
Lolly put a finger to her lips and said, “Shhhh. Maybe she can’t see us.” She was wearing jeans and a hoodie.
I tapped my foot. “You’re not invisible, you drunk monkeys.”
One by one I edged them down the hallway, but as much as I tried, I couldn’t keep them from bouncing off the walls like pinballs.
I started off by cleaning up the kitchen—filling Tupperware full of meats and cheeses, crackers and dips. This was a mistake, because when I turned around, they were each sucking on a cold one.
“No. No. No.” I swiped their beers and poured them down the sink, then set about making coffee and wiping the counters.
I stuffed the empty bottles into garbage bags as I waited for the coffee to percolate. “Did you at least find anything out? Anything at all about the shifter?”
Birdie said, still slurring, “Just that Tabby’s a nutfugget.”
Fiona and Lolly giggled.
“Yes, well we knew that, ladies,” I said.
The coffee pot chimed and I pulled three mugs from the cupboard and rosemary oil from the pie safe to speed up the alertness process and hopefully jog their memories. I served it to them black to match my mood.
“Drink.”
There was a round of protests, and since pouring the steaming liquid down each of their throats might be considered elder abuse, I promised to buy them pizza and take them to the Black Opal if they drank the coffee in the next five minutes.
I had shuffled over to the sink to disinfect it when they started snickering. Fed up, I threw the sponge in the sink, pivoted around and said, “What? What is so funny?”
Birdie pointed at me. “You’re in trouble,” she sang it like a kid taunting her sister.
Lolly and Fiona joined in. “So much trouble.”
“Yes, I’m aware. Someone wants to kill me.” I tossed up my arms. “What else is new?”
But wait, I didn’t tell them about the visit form the fury.
Lolly said, “No, silly. The Council.”
“Yeah, Tabby is pissed,” Fiona said.
“So pissed,” said Birdie.
Panic rose within me, slow and measured like a body rising from the grave. “Oh no. What did you do? You didn’t call her drunk, did you?”
Crap, crap, crap. I should never have let them call without me. I should have called, in fact. It was my responsibility.
“Nah,” Birdie waved, forgot why she was waving and studied her hand as if she’d never seen it before. “She wasn’t drunk.”
Fiona said, “But you did call her a jacksack.” She turned to look at Lolly. “Was that it?” Then she fell off her barstool.
Lolly tried to hoist her sister up, but dropped her. They collapsed into a heap of giggles.
“Why am I in trouble? Birdie! What did she say?” Because there was no way I was going to be hauled off in handcuffs and tossed in that castle. I’d sooner join whatever cult Monique had run off with. Maybe she would give me their number.
My phone buzzed then. The ring tone indicated the call was being transferred directly from my scrying mirror in the Seeker’s Den. There was only one number I ever had forwarded from the mirror. I grabbed the phone and ran to the pantry.
Tallulah was wearing a hat that resembled a giant sperm and a look that told me I was indeed in trouble.
“I’ll make this short and sweet, Stacy. As of this moment, you have 48 hours to retrieve the locket or you will be stripped of your Seeker’s crown, and Ethan will take your place. You are also on probation for the next year and will have no access to the Pentacle, previously known as the Four Corners. Tell your grandmother she is no longer a member of this council, and that as the Mage, she too is on probation.” Tabby’s eyes flickered. “Oh yes, also tell her, I win.” She flashed a wicked smile.
“Tabby, please—”
Her image snuffed out, and the call ended.
Chapter 28
I stood there in the pantry for a few moments feeling numb and stunned, like every limb had fallen asleep and I couldn’t shake them awake.
A year ago, I didn’t want this. Not any of it. But after the things I had seen, the battles I had fought, the perilous situations my loved ones had been subjected to—there was no longer a doubt in my mind that I was born for this. Once you accept that goddesses exist and that monsters are not only real, but can be defeated, there’s no turning back. Magic and justice were interwoven within me as surely as the red in my hair. It was in my DNA, passed down from generation to generation like green eyes or a sarcastic tongue. It was a part of my heritage, my history, the very essence of my soul.
Locket or not, Geraghty enemies were everywhere, because we refused to succumb to bullies and because like it or not, we were witches. But those who wanted to harm us might think twice knowing that I would be there, wielding every bit of strength and power that pulsed within me to stop them.
I was the true Seeker of Justice. I knew it as clearly as I knew my own name.
Council be damned. Their laws weren’t the laws we lived by, for there had been—and I suspect, will be again—corruption within those stone walls. The laws the Geraghtys upheld were those of truth and righteousness. They didn’t rip a mother away from her daughter. Especially when her only crime was protecting me from a maniac—a Council maniac—who’d tried to kill me.
Those wrinkled old bastards couldn’t even clean up their own castle and they had the nerve to think they could sweep mine?
I wouldn’t let that happen. The Seeker’s role went back thousands of years. It had been instilled by the Tuatha Dé Danann, not a bunch of stuffy, arrogant cabinet members who never got down in the trenches.
Tallulah could have my birthright when she ripped it from my cold, dead corpse.
I stepped out of the pantry, steeled, determined to get the locket back. I needed a plan, I needed to find the shifter, I needed to convince a horny teenager he was dead, I needed to run Cinnamon’s business tonight and my own tomorrow, but most of all I needed to figure out if I was better off temporarily retaining the powers of the Geraghty Girls or if Birdie and the aunts would be more useful at full throttle.
From the looks of things at the moment, they were a long way from being any help at all.
The coffee pot was sitting on the apothecary table, empty. The witches were slumped over their mugs, eyes bloodshot, skin pasty. The hangover was kicking in already. Lolly looked as if she might fall asleep right there on her stool.
I checked the refrigerator and found Lolly’s garden green smoothie juice. I poured each of them a glass. Maybe replenishing their fluids would help.
Birdie said, “My head hurts.”
I rummaged through the drawers and found some aspirin. Set it on the table.
Fiona jumped. “Hey, not so loud.”
“Are any of you coherent enough to tell me what you said to Tabby?”
Lolly lifted her head. “We called Tabby?”
Fiona sipped her juice, her eyes trying to focus on something running around in her brain. A stray thought she couldn’t catch.
Birdie said, “I remember Italian men and American football.”
“Cheese dip,” Lolly said.
Fiona found her runaway train. “We called someone else from the scrying mirror too. Who was it?”
I sighed, checked the clock. I still had an hour and a half before I had to be at the Black Opal. If it was anything else, I’d skip it, but I couldn’t let Cinnamon down. She’d never do that to me. Besides, maybe I could draw the shifter to me. Use myself as bait. Maybe, as I had mentioned to Mom, it was me the person was after. The locket couldn’t be used without my touch, after all. At least, that’s what I had been told. Unless...could it be somehow re-programmed by the original Seeker herself—Tabby’s 102 year old mother?
Phantom Quartz: A Stacy Justice Witch Mystery Book 6 (Stacy Justice Magical Mysteries) Page 12