What was it with boys and gross things? Although since Gus hadn’t brought out Grundleshanks’s remains, my guess was he probably didn’t have them in the house (thank the Goddess). Or maybe there was some kind of magickal reason why he had to keep them hidden until the next full moon.
Once Gus told me what he was planning for Grundleshanks, I looked up the ritual. I found some stuff online, but most of the details were in Gus’s esoteric lore books.
The toad was a shamanic creature, that dwelt on both land and water, a totemic guide for a witch who dwelt both on Earth and in the Otherworld. So I could see why Gus was a huge toad fan. And Grundleshanks had been the coolest toad ever.
The toad bone ritual was part of the Horseman’s lore. They used the bone to exert almost preternatural control over a horse, commanding it to become gentle or go wild at a whisper. And while I could understand that would have been super-important in an era when we relied on horses for everything, we were living in the era of the automobile.
Besides, the last time I suggested we go trail riding, Gus adamantly refused. He didn’t want anything to do with an object of transportation that didn’t have drink holders, seat belts or a GPS.
* * *
When I arrived at the cemetery, I found the missing garbage can, a long table and chairs, boxes of decorations, and coolers filled with appetizers and drinks. For the guys, there were two sweet wines: the red Mavrodaphne and white Samos of Muscat, and a bottle of the turpentiny-tasting Retsina. And for me, a giant bottle of coconut water. There was even a large can of dog food for the Dobes.
Since I had nothing else to do, while the dogs ran around sniffing everything, I started transforming the cemetery. I covered the table with a few large Celtic sarongs. Then I put our skull, whom we had started calling Bertha, on top of a hearthstone that Gus had carved with sigils. I set the skull and the stone at the head of the table, laid a silver bell on one side and priapic wand on the other, and then circled the hearthstone with candles.
I don’t know what got into me. But as the sun started to set, everything looked so perfect and magickal, I couldn’t help myself. I lit the candles and did a small calling to the spirits of the ancestors, the spirits of the dead who surrounded us.
I told myself that I was just trying to prime the space, to acknowledge the spirits and let them know we were here, so that when Gus called them in—since it was his dinner after all—they’d come in like gangbusters.
Instead, I got a response I wasn’t expecting. White wraiths rose up from the ground, spirits passing through coffins and dirt, so thick in their manifestation, it was like standing in fog.
The dogs whimpered and pressed closer to me.
My heart pounded faster and I stopped breathing, wondering what in the world I had just done.
The fog rolled out, stretching, before forming separate shapes.
Finally, I recognized my Aunt Tillie and my mom, and a whole bunch of people who I didn’t know, but who felt familiar.
I started breathing again. Aramis growled, while Apollo started barking. I petted them and told them to hush. They quieted down, but the hair on their necks still bristled.
“It’s bad form to call us in girl, when there’s no food on the table,” Aunt Tillie said, sidling up to me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to actually call you in yet. I don’t know what came over me.”
I quickly took a little of each of the cut-up veggies, fruit, and Greek cheeses—kasseri and feta—from the cooler and put them on a plate for the dead, adding a spoonful of Greek salad and a torn off piece of pita bread. Then I opened the container of tiropitakia (Greek cheese triangles) and spanakopitakia (Greek spinach triangles)—which Gus had made from scratch—and added one of each to the platter.
“I know what it was,” my mom said, winking at me, as she sat down. “You missed us.”
“That must be it,” I agreed.
“You look ridiculous,” Aunt Tillie sniffed.
“When it comes to missing people, I wasn’t talking about you,” I told my great-aunt.
“Ignore your Aunt Tillie,” my mom said. “You look adorable. Just like your brother.”
Aunt Tillie hissed and the whole world came crashing down around me.
I heard a faint roaring in my ears.
“My what?!” I asked.
“I meant, if I had had another child.”
“That’s not what you said,” I glared at her. “What brother?”
“You never did know when to shut up, Adele,” Aunt Tillie said.
“What brother?” I repeated.
My mom sighed. “Before I met your father, I fell in love with a boy in my school. Things went a little too far. I was young and back then, babies didn’t raise babies.”
I set out the bottles of wine while I mulled that over. From what I had gotten to know of my mother, I didn’t think she would have terminated the pregnancy. And if she did, she wouldn’t be talking about him in the present tense.
“So, somewhere in the world, I have a brother?” I asked, trying to gauge the answer by their reactions.
“And you’ll shut the h-e-double-toothpicks up about it,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “Unless you want him to go through the same hell you went through, with that she-devil ancestress of yours.”
I looked around, to see if Lisette, the witch whose spirit had possessed my body and who had wreaked havoc on my life, had shown up.
“Lisette’s not here,” my mom said. “She’s still being pursued by the Wild Hunt.”
Aunt Tillie cackled. “Serves her right. Now, can we get off this entire topic? Before we draw unwanted attention to it?”
“Please,” my mom begged, looking at me.
“This isn’t the end of it,” I said. “We will be talking about this again. I have way too many questions to let this go.”
I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. Somewhere in the world, I might have a brother.
“Fine. Later. Not Now.” Aunt Tillie said, shooting my mom a dirty look. Then she turned to me. “Did you talk to Gus?”
I sighed. “He tied the seasonal ritual into the toad ritual. He can’t break the one without doing the other.”
Aunt Tillie gasped, horrified. I could tell she was gearing up to go into full-out nag mode and give me an earful, so I tried to cut her off at the pass. “It’s not that big a deal. So he’ll wind up with a bone that controls horses. Who even has horses anymore? Besides, I think Gus is scared of them anyway. I doubt he’s going to turn into the next Monty Roberts.”
Monty Roberts was the only real-life horse whisperer I had heard of. I wondered if he had a toad bone in his mojo bag.
“There should be some kind of licensing or regulation of witches. Before you’re given your powers, you need to be intelligent enough to know when not to use them,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “I’ve never seen two people who deserve to be completely mortal more than the two of you.”
My mom frowned. “What Gus is planning to do, is forbidden.”
Aunt Tillie shook her head. “The fool is going to hand himself over to—”
“Don’t say it,” my mom warned her.
“And there’s nothing we can do about it,” Aunt Tillie finished.
I felt like screaming. “Can we drop the melodrama? Come on. It’s Gus. He just wants to do the ritual, to prove that he can. To have a magickal remembrance of Grundleshanks. It’s not that big a deal. The bone will probably never leave his altar. And even if it does, it’s freaking horses, for cripe’s sake.”
“It’s a very big deal,” my mom said. “Have him find another toad. He must release that one.”
“There is no way he’s going to do that. Grundleshanks is the whole reason he wants to do the ritual. What’s the problem with Grundleshanks, anyway?!” I asked, exasperated. “You two are being impossible.”
Aunt Tillie grabbed my arm and an image of Gus popped into my head, his flesh dripping off of him, until he was nothing but bones.
A wa
ve of sadness, regret and guilt punched me in the gut.
Angry, I pulled away.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?!” I yelled. “Stop putting things in my head. Gus will be fine. He’s a big boy.”
Responding to my emotions, both Dobes softly growled in Aunt Tillie’s direction. I didn’t know if they could see her as clearly as I could, but they could definitely sense her.
“Leave the child be,” my mom said, softly. “It’s too late. The process has already begun. The dominoes are starting to fall.”
“What exactly does that mean? No dominoes,” I said. “Forget the dominoes. Life is not a game of dominoes. It’s never too late.”
Aunt Tillie looked at my mom. “I would have expected something more intelligent out of your side, Adele. She must take after her father. I warned you adding human blood into the mix was a bad idea.”
“Hey!” I protested. “I’m sitting right here.”
“Hush,” Aunt Tillie hissed.
From the edges of the forest, I could see wraith-like figures closing in on the gathering. They were extremely tall, with long hooded cloaks.
Inside me, I could feel the baby turning to look at them.
“What in the world…?”
As the cloaked figures got closer, the spirits in the cemetery vanished, one by one.
Chapter 22
“Well, that was interesting,” I muttered.
“Hope you’re hungry!” Gus hollered, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked over and laughed.
Gus looked like a ridiculously sexy, gender-bending escapee from Rocky Horror Picture Show. He was all decked out, from a black leather corset, bright blue mini-skirt and fishnet stockings to a pearl necklace, blue feather boa and platform glitter heels. The look was finished off with heavy Goth make-up and a black cape with a brilliant blue lining.
Forrest, on the other hand, looked scary and kind of awesome. His face was painted like a harlequin skull, and he was wearing a court jester’s outfit, a crown-like hat with bells on the points, and a crooked sign around his neck proclaiming him the Lord of Misrule, but Misrule had been crossed out and replaced with Gus’s Rule in blue marker. Strapped to his waist was a black, white and red pole with a skull at the top wearing a mini-jester’s hat.
They were both loaded down with food, carrying a platter in each hand. With the way Gus was teetering on his heels, I wasn’t sure he’d actually make it to the table before he lost his balance.
Aramis and Apollo ran towards them, joyful at the prospect of up-ending Gus and enjoying a free meal.
“Starved,” I called back. I could feel the baby settling back down, now that all the wraiths were gone. I clapped my hands. “Hallelujah, the victuals have arrived. Thank the Gods.”
“I always love being the answer to people’s prayers,” Forrest said, grinning, giving his skeletal make-up an even eerier appearance.
They both navigated the Doberman crew and made it to the table, platters intact, where I helped them lay out the main feast: Slow-cooked leg of lamb with fresh oregano and rosemary, roasted potatoes sprinkled with dill, finished off with a side of spinach and rice in a tomato sauce base. There was also Greek Spaghetti baked in tomato sauce, with freshly-ground black pepper and myzhithra cheese, since I was having a hard time dealing with meat these days.
It was an embarrassment of riches, and easily, a three thousand calorie dinner.
Once all the food was on the table, Gus did an elaborate invocation of spirit. He quoted Shakespeare, lit more candles, rang the bell and pounded on the hearthstone with the wand.
“I call on all our ancestors,
Kith and kin to join us, in this time of Gus’s Rule.
Red threads and black, white threads and grey.
Mingle, mingle, mingle who may.
Round and about, thout a tout tout,
The good stay in and the bad stay out!”
I looked around, expecting to see a repeat rolling in of the wraiths.
But there was nothing.
I tried to open a mental door to the other side, and it was swiftly closed in my face.
“Fantastic calling. Let’s eat.” Forrest said, sitting down.
“That was one of my better ones.” Gus seemed pleased with himself as he added food to the plate I had started for the dead. He poured a glass of each of the wines and set them in front of the skull. I looked to see if Forrest wanted to add anything to the plate, but he was already eating.
How could Gus not sense that we were alone? Even the baby seemed to be taking a nap. Had the cadre of cloaked figures that had shown up earlier been some kind of ghostly police force? Is that why the spirits had vacated so quickly? And why they weren’t returning?
And why couldn’t Gus sense anything? He was arguably the strongest witch I knew. Were his internal sensors out of whack? Or was it mine? Were they actually here and I was blocked from seeing them somehow?
But why would that be? Would my abilities have gone on walk-about because I had pissed Aunt Tillie off?
I thought about it, and dismissed that last scenario. If Aunt Tillie had the power to render me a mundane human, she would have done it months ago. Which meant, the spirits hadn’t returned. But why couldn’t Gus sense that?
And what was the deal with the whole brother thing? Would I ever find him? Was it possible that I met him already, and didn’t know it?
Gus has always felt like my brother. We called each other siblings of the soul. But what if there was more to it than that? Wouldn’t it be the coolest thing ever if Gus turned out to actually be my brother?
But I had met his family before, and no one had ever said a word about Gus being adopted. Although, it’s not something that normally comes up in conversation. “Pass the potatoes, and by the way, Gus is adopted.” I think I would have remembered that.
Besides, he looked an awful lot like his yaya, his grandmother. This whole thing was just wishful thinking. What I needed was some kind of compulsion spell. Damn spirits were never as forthcoming with information as I wanted them to be.
Apollo nudged me, to remind me that they were under the table, watching for scraps. I dropped a piece of cheese on the ground for each of them, along with some carrots.
By the time I looked back up, the sun had set, the dinner was lit completely by candle and moonlight, and Forrest and Gus were in mid-conversation.
“Brilliant plan. The taxidermist was a stroke of genius. So, when are you going to let me hold the bones in my hot little hands?” Forrest asked, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.
“When I’m ready,” Gus said.
“Why do you even care?” I asked.
“Because I’m a guy. We’re all about experiential learning. Ask Gus. He understands. Hey, we could bind some of those bones together, and make a miniature bone knife.”
I made a face. I used to have a bone knife once. It was also known as a fairy knife, since it had no metal, just a bone handle with an obsidian blade. My dad had bought it for me, two birthdays before he died. But holding it, I could see and feel the hunt, and the deer’s death, and it was just the saddest thing. I had to give the knife to Gus, because I couldn’t hold it without crying. Gus said it was because the bone hadn’t been obtained properly. And then he went out and bought me a bone knife that looked the same, but didn’t make me cry. So he was probably right.
Gus teased me about having the ability to be a great witch but being too sappy to ever fulfill my potential, and he was probably right. While I had made peace with him bouncing in and out of gray magic realms, I preferred to stay firmly in the light—when I had a choice. Even though Gus says my talents as a necromancer automatically puts me on the same path as him.
I have to admit, there are days when I talk far more to the dead, than I do to anyone who’s alive. But it’s not like I go out and intentionally perform magickal rites with the dead, which is what I think of, when I hear the word necromancer.
It’s more like the spirit world
keeps seeking me out and sometimes, (like with my Aunt Tillie, when I first moved out here), I have to defend myself. So I don’t think that should count.
Gus, of course, thinks I’m ridiculous. Before he left for Chicago, he got me a tee-shirt that said Mara Stephens: FortuneTeller, Witch, Reluctant Necromancer. I only wear it though, when I’m cleaning house or doing laundry. I wondered if my brother had the same aversions and talents that I did, or if he’d be completely different than me—assuming I was ever able to find him at all.
I was so deep in thought, I totally missed the conversation going on around me, until Forrest asked my opinion.
“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“I could tell. Are we boring you?” He asked, one eyebrow arched. “Do we need to pair our scintillating dialogue with common circus tricks, to hold your attention? Should I start punctuating my questions with backflips?”
I could feel my nostrils flare and the edge of my upper lip start to pull up into a snarl as I stared at him. I quickly clamped down on my reaction and rearranged my face into a neutral expression. All sorts of responses were running through my head, but with a baby on the way, I was trying really hard not to swear so much.
“Could you?” I asked sweetly, baring my teeth in a semblance of a smile. “After all, you’re wearing the right costume for it. And I would really appreciate the added entertainment. Watch out for the gravestones though. I would hate for you to hit your head.”
Unless you whacked yourself hard enough to do permanent damage, I added in my thoughts.
I smiled and Forrest narrowed his eyes at me. Crap. I really hoped reading thoughts wasn’t one of his talents.
Chapter 23
“She hasn’t been ignoring us on purpose,” Gus said, interrupting our staredown. “It’s just what she does. She gets hyper-focused on something, and it’s like nothing else exists.”
“What are you talking about?!” I asked, offended. “I don’t do that.”
“Are you kidding me? When you’re reading a book, I can walk up to you, yell directly in your face, and you won’t hear a word I’m saying. You won’t even know I’m standing there, unless I take the book away.”
Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) Page 9