Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2)

by Christiana Miller

  I felt the baby turn and stretch in response.

  When I looked up, Paul was—as usual—driving like a maniac. But when he swerved too close to the edge of the lane, the car next to us also swerved, so it kept a consistent distance. When he got too close to cars in front, they moved to a neighboring lane. No one behind us was tailgating. It was like our SUV was protected by an invisible bubble.

  I grinned. We were going to be okay. The fetch I had made was working. Since Paul was focused on driving, I took out my cell phone, texted Gus and we filled each other in on our days.

  Me: I have gorgeous baby pics. And guess what baby has?

  Gus: A penis?

  Me: Ha. Funny. A witch mark.

  Gus: Cool. We have a baby witch. I never doubted it.

  Me: What R U up 2?

  Gus: Forrest showed up. Took cats.

  Me: Thank the Gods. U were running out of blood.

  Gus: Very funny. Now I have no toad test. How was Paul?

  Me: Kept asking doc if baby had horns, hooves or a tail.

  Gus: Are u sure no horns? Becuz that would be wicked cool. We could hang ornaments on them. Or paint them in neon stripes.

  Me: I’m good w/the witch mark.

  Gus: We’ll have to burn Yule log in fireplace. Raining heavy out here.

  Me: Not here. :-p

  Gus: Yuck it up, mama lama. Keep up that attitude and you’ll call it to you. Just u wait.

  “It’s such a pleasure driving with someone who completely ignores you to text her non-boyfriend.” Paul said, giving me an irritated look as he muted the radio.

  “Sorry,” I put the phone away. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

  “Right,” Paul snorted, clearly not believing me.

  “Besides, you’ve been in a weird space. What was that about, back at the doctor’s office? The technician was ready to turn you in to Family Services as a potential danger to the baby.”

  “I’m sorry. I just… flipped out. When I heard that heartbeat, I started thinking about Ichabod Crane—”

  “—The Headless Horseman?—”

  “And it all went downhill from there. I know what I was saying was rude and possibly idiotic, but it was like I had no control over what was coming out of my mouth.”

  “Was it the PPSD?”

  He looked at me, quizzically.

  “Post-Possession Stress Disorder. It’s what I think you’ve been struggling with.”

  “I don’t know. Can we please stop talking about it? I apologize, from the bottom of my heart. Can we move on now?”

  I nodded. But, crap. If he was going to flip out like that at an ultrasound, there was no way I could risk having him in the delivery room. Thank the Goddess that Gus wanted to be there, or I’d be delivering this baby completely on my own.

  So, we made small talk. Not about anything important. Not about the baby. Just about books, TV shows, the freaky weather.

  As night fell, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over me, and I had to close my eyes. I tilted my seat back, thankful that Paul was driving—even if he could use a few stints at a driving school. At least he was able to stay awake, which was more than I could do.

  A few minutes later—at least, it felt like a few, but it was probably more like twenty—Paul nudged me awake.

  “I was thinking we could go to the Fortenberry Mansion off Route Ten for dinner.”

  The Fortenberry Mansion had been converted into a restaurant and it was supposed to be spectacular. It had been built in the 1800’s, and had been remodeled in the early 1900’s, with a bowling alley and a private distillery in the basement—a key club for the upper class, to get around prohibition restrictions.

  “Isn’t that expensive?” I asked.

  “It’s my way of apologizing for being a jerk. Hey, look at that.”

  The moon was just rising, huge and glorious. It was close to Earth and it looked amazing. A warmly glowing fruit that you could almost pluck out of the sky. It took my breath away.

  “That’s the most gorgeous moon I’ve ever seen,” I said.

  Paul agreed.

  Suddenly, my blood ran cold. “Wait… is that a full moon? Totally full? Not even one little sliver off?”

  “Look at it. That’s as full as it gets.”

  Oh, no! I closed my eyes and tried to feel for Gus, but we were still too far away. Either that or he was deliberately blocking me. Was that what the radio had been trying to tell me with its song selection? Bad Moon Rising.

  “How could it be a full moon?! We had a full moon, at the beginning of the month. And it can’t be a blue moon. It’s too early.”

  “You’re losing your days, Mara. The last full moon was after Thanksgiving, not at the beginning of December.”

  I sat there, stunned. What kind of an idiot witch was I, letting the moon phases slip by, unnoticed? What the hell was wrong with me?! I mean, granted, I kept falling asleep at ridiculously early hours these days, but if I wasn’t going to look up at the night sky, why didn’t I check a damn almanac? Or a calendar?

  Wait. I had checked the dates on my phone.

  I pulled out my iPhone. Yes. I had bookmarked the site. I clicked on the bookmark.

  “It can’t be. The next full moon isn’t supposed to be until the beginning of January.”

  “Tell it to the moon,” Paul shrugged.

  I made the site larger. “Damn!”

  “Did you figure it out?”

  “It defaulted to the wrong year. I was looking at the wrong damn year.” Why hadn’t I just charted it, looking out of the freaking window? Why did I believe a stupid app? Why had I stopped paying attention to nature, when I knew how much was riding on this moon? How could I have been so stupid?

  So what I thought had been a waning moon during the Supper for the Dead, was actually a waxing moon.

  Great. The full moon hit on the longest night of the year. Knowing Gus, he was going to be all over it. Unless it was still raining, he’d be getting ready to do the toad bone ritual. At the stroke of midnight, he was going to drop those bones in the stream, under the light of the full moon, and the horrible predictions, nightmares and visions Aunt Tillie had been flinging at me would come true. We’d get winter back and I would lose Gus forever. He’d either go mad and I’d lose him in this world, or he’d follow the bones into the wasteland and I’d lose him to the Otherworld.

  “What is your problem with the moon?”

  I shook my head. “I have to get home. Can we go any faster?”

  “Okay…” Paul said, but he was thoroughly confused. “So you’ve turned down a fancy dinner, a movie and an overnight hotel stay for… what, exactly? Your gay roommate? The moon? Is this your way of telling me to get lost?”

  “It’s not you. It’s Gus. He’s in trouble. I mean, he’s not yet, but he will be unless I get home.”

  “Did he text you or something?”

  “No, but that’s a great idea.” I pulled out my phone and started texting.

  Me: Is it still raining there?

  Gus: Nope, clear and booty-ful.

  Me: We’re doing Yule tonight, right? I’m on my way home.

  Gus: You’ll have to start Yule without me. ~ I see a bad moon rising ~

  Me: Ack! No! I know what U R up 2. Don’t do it. Please.

  Gus: Sorry, can’t hear you. Too much static on this line. Call back later.

  Me: Gus! I’m serious.

  Gus: The party you have dialed is not home. Try again 2morrow.

  I tossed the cell phone in my purse, annoyed.

  “Can we please go faster?” I snapped at Paul.

  He looked at me, surprised, but hit the gas, while I prayed for winged Hermes to grant us additional speed.

  Chapter 38

  As we drove, clouds moved in, obscuring the moon, and the wind picked up. It was as if the night was screaming, “Danger.” The storm that had passed through Devil’s Point was about to hit us.

  Soon, the winds were at gale force and th
e moon had completely vanished behind storm clouds. Lightning raced along the horizon. Thunder shook the car. Rain pelted down in sheets and a gust of wind blasted the SUV.

  Paul slowed down to a crawl as he struggled to keep us on the road. He turned on the wipers, but even at the fastest speed they couldn’t keep the windshield clear.

  “Weird fucking weather,” Paul muttered. “Freaking summer storms in the middle of winter.”

  The slower we went, the more I struggled to keep little screams of frustration from erupting out of my throat.

  Paul glanced sideways at me. “Mara, what is your damage?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m worried about Gus. I just have this feeling that something is wrong. Can you go any faster?”

  “I could, if I wanted to kill us. But I don’t.”

  “Not even a teeny tiny bit faster?”

  The rain, if anything, got heavier. I pounded my leg in frustration. I turned the radio to an AM station to get traffic and weather info. Maybe there was some kind of ETA on when it would blow over. But all I could find were commercials and religious pontificating.

  “It’s not raining in Devil’s Point. So, the faster we head in that direction, the faster we’ll be out of this storm.”

  “Nice try. Not happening.” Paul said, pulling into a diner parking lot. “It’s not the Mansion, but we may as well stop and get something to eat. We’re going nowhere fast tonight.”

  “Oh, come on! This is ridiculous. Don’t tell me a little bad weather is going to scare off your big strong he-man self.”

  “You’re going to have to tough it out,” Paul shouted over the pounding rain as he opened the car door. “Gus is a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  He took off his jacket and held it over his head. Then he ran over to my side and opened the door. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

  Together, huddling under his coat, we sloshed through the rain and into the diner.

  * * *

  The small restaurant shook in the storm. Paul wanted to stay away from the windows, but I forced the issue. There might not have been anything Paul could do about the weather, but there was something I wanted to try. Finally, he agreed and the hostess led us to a window seat in the mostly empty diner.

  While Paul was studying the menu, I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing. I started running my finger around the top of my water glass, in clockwise circles.

  Hekate, Lady, I call on you.

  I waited until I could feel the tingling on my skin that meant she was paying attention. Then I continued.

  Tame these winds around me.

  Soothe the savage beast.

  Tonight, grant me peace,

  And tomorrow we’ll feast.

  It might have been my imagination, but it seemed like the wind died down a bit. The window glass wasn’t rattling as hard as it had been when we sat down. But the rain was still coming down in sheets.

  I was about to continue the spell, when the waitress came over to get our order.

  “We’re in a hurry. What’s the fastest thing your chef can whip up?”

  “Probably a salad,” she drawled.

  “We’re not in any hurry,” Paul said. “I’m not driving in that storm. We’re going to stay here until it dies down.”

  “We close at ten. But there’s a hotel on the other side of the parking lot,” the waitress oh-so-helpfully chimed in.

  “Fantastic. That’s the only place I’m going.” Paul said.

  “No freaking way! I didn’t sign up for an overnight stay,” I protested.

  “So, you know what you want?” she asked, popping a piece of chewing gum.

  “Just a tossed salad, no dressing.”

  “Steak, baked potato and green beans,” Paul said. “And she’ll have grilled salmon, a baked potato, and a cup of cream of spinach soup with that salad. I want coffee and she’ll have a large milk.”

  I looked at him, furious. I didn’t know whether to kick him in the kneecaps or be impressed that he managed to order food I wanted to eat.

  The waitress finished writing the order, then took our menus and left.

  Paul looked at me, daring me to bitch at him.

  I glared at his reflection in the window.

  When he got up to use the restroom—taking the car keys with him—I continued my spell.

  I closed my eyes and circled the top of the water glass, until a childhood rhyme popped into my head. It was silly, but I figured there had to be a reason it showed up, so I used it:

  Rain, rain, go away,

  Come again some other day.

  By the crossroads three,

  As I will it, so mote it be.

  “Ow!” I yelped as I felt a sharp pain in my fingertip. Blood dripped and blossomed into the water glass.

  “Fuck!” Paul swore, returning in time to see the bloody water. “Are you all right?”

  “Right as rain. Could you get me a Band-Aid?”

  I wrapped a napkin around my finger and applied pressure, while Paul went to find the manager.

  I closed my eyes and desperately bargained with the Lady, asking her what she wanted to quell the storm. The image of a fire opal popped into my head. I grimaced, hoping I could find a less expensive version online, and agreed to the exchange.

  By the time Paul got back with the apologetic manager, concerned waitress and a Band-Aid, the rain was starting to lessen in intensity. It had turned the corner from biblical deluge to standard downpour. The waitress whisked away the offending glass, the manager offered to comp our meals, and I smiled at the success of the rhyme.

  After we finished eating, the rain downgraded from downpour to normal rain storm. I talked Paul into skipping dessert and dragged him out into the parking lot, so we could get back on the road. I offered to drive, but he said he’d rather race a freight train than trust me with his car, in the frame of mind I was in.

  As we traveled, I kept up a running dialogue to Hekate in my head, to continue dissipating the storm. The rain slowed to a light drizzle and the winds quieted down. We were still feeling small gusts, but they no longer threatened to topple the SUV.

  I looked at my watch. “Can we go faster, please?”

  “Mara, I’m not going to hydroplane the car.”

  “There’s got to be a speed between meandering and hydroplaning,” I snapped.

  Paul grumbled, but he pressed down on the gas pedal.

  Now all I had to do, was come up with a plan to keep Gus from leaving the house and heading to the stream. I had found a pair of fuzzy-covered handcuffs in the trunk in Gus’s room, when I was looking for the bones. Maybe I could sneak up on him and handcuff him to a chair until morning. Although, knowing Gus, that wouldn’t stop him for long. Maybe I could shove him into the basement altar room and lock him in until the full moon passed. It only lasted a few days, right?

  Chapter 39

  It took longer to get home than I anticipated. By the time Paul dropped me off, it was twenty minutes to midnight. I raced through the cottage, calling Gus’s name. All that accomplished though, was waking the puppies.

  Since the cats were gone, I risked going into Gus’s room, and boy, did I regret that. As soon as the smell of cat hit my nostrils, I wasted precious minutes running for the bathroom. Stupid morning sickness.

  The dogs, however, were having a field day rooting around in the cat toys. I had to drag them out by their collars. I locked them in my bedroom and I quickly checked on Gronwy of Rattenshire. He was sleeping in his cage, showing off a full round belly, his whiskers and paws twitching as he dreamt. His food dish was completely empty. If Gronwy was J.J., he certainly seemed to be enjoying his stint as a rat.

  I tried to sense Gus, but the wards he put up when he was pissed at me effectively blocked my sight. So, I had to rely on logic and reason—two of my least favorite tools.

  Gus would be at the stream, but where? It was an awfully large stream, and it meandered quite a distance.

  Think, Mara, Think.
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  The stream was fed by a waterfall. At the bottom of the cascade, once you got beyond the rocks and roots and fallen tree trunks, about ninety yards out, the stream grew wider and not as rocky. An enormous weeping willow grew there, its roots dipping deep into the water, and there was a dusting of toadstool mushrooms that grew in its shade.

  Gus called it his fairy garden, because of the importance of both the toadstool mushroom and the weeping willow to the Queen of the Fae. And since that was the widest section of the stream, that’s where he was most likely to incorporate the full moon into his ritual.

  That’s where he had to be.

  * * *

  I raced out of the house and through the woods, sliding in the mud and catching myself on trees, trying not to trip on rocks and exposed tree roots. By the time I reached Gus and his faery garden, my palms were bloody and stinging.

  “Gus, don’t!” I yelled from the top of the hill. The waterfall was beating down, churning the swollen stream into a frothy dance. I wasn’t sure if Gus could hear me over the sound of the rushing water. But somehow, he managed to sense me.

  He turned and looked up, as I slid down the hill towards him.

  He was wearing a shorty wetsuit and his face was handsome and determined in the moonlight. “It’s not your decision to make,” he hollered. “You can help me or leave me, but don’t get in my way.”

  I kept moving forward, trying to get closer to him, but I was terrified I was going to lose my footing over the slippery tree roots, mud and large stones, and fall into the thundering stream below.

  “Gus, be sensible. Look at the water. At least wait until next month, when it goes back to normal.” That would give me a chance to get the other toad bones delivered from China.

  “Are you kidding? This is the perfect time. You heard the radio. It’s a Bad Moon Rising. I’m not wasting it.”

  Gus’s watch alarm went off. He must have had it set for the stroke of midnight. He raised his arm…

  “Fine! I’ll help. I can’t let you do this alone. You’ll kill yourself.”