Spells & Stitches

by Barbara Bretton

When he poured two sport bottles of Poland Spring over his head, I considered tossing him the keys and hitchhiking back to Vermont, but he’d probably drive my Jeep into the ocean.

  My cell rang and I let it flip over to voice mail. No way was I taking a call from my mother with seal boy next to me, barking his ass off. Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t know what she was calling about. This was the third year I’d been AWOL at the Thanksgiving table. That alone was enough to merit at least two calls.

  Chloe had been pushing me to tell the extended MacKenzie clan about the baby, but so far I’d resisted her best arguments. They’d swarm all over us like picnic ants, darting into every nook and cranny of our lives. Chloe’s magick had been haywire lately. All we needed was for her to literally nail Great-Aunt Brigid’s butt to the wall and all hell would break loose.

  Besides, what if the baby wasn’t exactly human? I’d spent a few sleepless, whiskey-fueled nights mulling over that question. I mean, I was sitting next to a guy who was about to spend the winter in a seal suit. Nothing seemed impossible to me anymore. Waiting until the baby was here in this world to introduce her to the human side of her family seemed the wise way to go.

  The phone rang again. I ignored it again. Whoever came up with the idea of personalized ringtones must’ve had a mother like mine.

  The ringing stopped, but that didn’t mean my mother had given up. For all I knew she was on the phone with Chloe right now, detailing chapter and verse of my failings as a son. So far Chloe had gone along with my decision to keep her pregnancy our secret, but with the holiday season under way and her third-trimester emotions running high, there was the very real possibility she might blurt out the news the second my mother said, “How are you?”

  But I’d deal with that later. Right now I had a selkie to deliver.

  The last five miles were tough going. Lorcan ran out of trout and stared at me with big, sad brown eyes until I stopped at a Long John Silver’s for a bucket of fish and chips. He’d given me a detailed map before we started and I followed it off-road until we reached the secluded beach that was our ultimate destination.

  “Okay, bud,” I said as I climbed out of the truck. “Let’s get this thing rolling.”

  The agitation that had marked the trip down here vanished as a sense of peace seemed to encircle Lorcan. Even I could see he was changing right before my eyes. I unlatched the back of my truck, then he reached in and unzipped the body bag.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a couple of bad moments when I got a good look at his pelt. I’d grown up on Disney’s fairy tales and this made the murder of Bambi’s mother a walk in the park. The pelt wasn’t exactly coat-ready. It was big, hot, moist, almost breathing with life. It stank from fish and brine and something else. Something my blood recognized but my brain refused to process. The head was sleek, the nose long and whiskered. The teeth were marbled brown and yellow, the incisors sharp and angled for business.

  This was Lorcan Meany, same as the human form I’d come to call friend.

  He donned the pelt, letting it settle over his form like exactly what it was: a second skin. So far it was a lot like old adventure movies where the hunter shielded his human essence from his prey by donning a bear skin and slipping through the woods unnoticed.

  And then it got really weird.

  He dropped to his knees a few feet from the water’s edge and toppled over on his right side just as Chloe’s ringtone erupted from my jacket pocket.

  No way was I letting that call roll over to voice mail.

  I pressed ON as I ran toward Lorcan’s rigid form.

  “You okay?” I barked into the phone.

  “Fine, but—”

  “Contractions?”

  “No, but, Luke—”

  Lorcan was white, pasty, sweating profusely beneath the heavy skin. “He’s flopping around on the sand. Is that normal?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never—”

  “Shit, he’s having trouble breathing. Do selkies need air or water? CPR? I need help here.”

  “Luke, listen to me. Your—”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  The guy was going down for the count. Or at least I thought he was. Nothing in my training had prepared me for this. It occurred to me that maybe he needed oxygen, the kind you found in water. I bent down to roll him toward the surf, but he was five hundred pounds of pure muscle and I couldn’t budge him even an inch. The lines between human and seal were blurring, Lorcan’s features melting into the lines of the pelt. Was this the way it was supposed to go down or did he need help?

  Chloe’s ringtone sounded again. “You’re gonna have to hold, Chloe. I’ve got a situation here.”

  “That makes two of us, Luke William Aloysius MacKenzie,” a familiar voice stated, “because you’ve got yourself a situation here, too.”

  What the hell had I done to piss off the gods?

  “Ma, I’ve got to go.” A dozen sea lions bounded onto shore, barking loudly as they thumped their way toward Lorcan. One of the sea lions was the size of a pickup truck. His muzzle was dark gray, his whiskers white. He stood back from the others as they circled Lorcan’s prone form and watched me with huge brown eyes that seemed to take my measure.

  “Where are you?” my mother demanded. “What’s all that barking?”

  “This isn’t a good time, Ma.” I was being herded toward the water by two sea lions who seemed to think I was a long-lost cousin. “I’ll call you back.”

  “I find out you’re about to be a father again and you’re going to hang up on me? I don’t think—”

  “Ma, seriously, this isn’t a good time. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

  “I’ve heard that story before, mister. You owe your father and me an explanation and I want—”

  “You’re breaking up, Ma. Can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday. Your sister Meghan pulls that nonsense, so don’t you start. You’re just lucky I have to drive Fran back home or I’d take Chloe up on her offer and spend the night.”

  Elspeth our bossy houseguest and my mother under the same roof. What the hell was Chloe thinking?

  “Hello! Are you there, Luke? Say something.”

  Hard to talk when you’re running from a monster sea lion looking to head-butt you into the next county. Damn, he was fast. He caught me on the right hip and sent me flying.

  “Luke! Hello? Did you hang up on me? I don’t think this is very—” Those were her last words as the cell slipped from my hand and was swept into the Atlantic.

  As it was, I barely had time to roll out of the way in time to avoid being crushed by a gathering of sea lions marching Lorcan into the sea. Everything else faded away—the icy water, the fierce wind, my mother’s voice—as their massive bodies disappeared beneath the waves, taking my friend with them.

  4

  CHLOE—BACK IN SUGAR MAPLE

  We all stood in the doorway of Sticks & Strings and watched as Bunny and Fran drove away.

  “She didn’t wave back,” Janice noted as I flipped the Open sign to Closed. “That’s not good.”

  “You think?” The baby kicked and I placed my hands against my belly. “Luke’s going to be fielding calls from every MacKenzie between here and Seattle.”

  “I’d put a spell on her,” Janice said. “Make the two of them forget what happened here.”

  “If I was going to put a spell on them, I would’ve done it while she was here.”

  “Send a reverse thought probe with an ionizer,” Lynette suggested. “Works like a charm within a two-hundred-yard radius.”

  “I’m better at scattershots,” I said. “I can’t seem to get the hang of thought probes.”

  “That’s because you’re pregnant,” Janice said. “The hormones screw with your concentration.”

  “You’re not pregnant,” I said to her. “Why don’t you do it?”

  Janice had been magick from the day she was born. Wiping out a few memo
ries was as easy as brushing her teeth.

  “You know I’d do anything for you, Chloe.”

  “Then you’d better hurry.”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” she said. “I’d do anything for you, but I can’t do that.”

  “It’s not like we’d be doing anything terrible to them. I mean, so they find out tomorrow that I’m pregnant. That isn’t going to change the course of human events, is it?”

  “Don’t go all Star Trek on me,” Janice said and everyone laughed. “I’m not worried about the course of human events.” Dynamic, self-assured Janice Meany was looking downright sheepish as she whispered in my ear, “Elspeth has me on spellfast while I’m under her tutelage. She says abstinence will heighten my abilities. I’m forbidden to cast spells or charms or enchantments until the new moon.”

  I groaned. “You actually listen to what that awful creature has to say?”

  “When it comes to skills, she’s actually pretty amazing,” Janice said, looking even more sheepish than before, if possible.

  “She’s the most annoying creature I’ve ever met.”

  “No argument there,” Janice said, “but trust me when I say she’s a walking Book of Spells.”

  I allowed myself a minor eye roll. “Then maybe I should ask Elspeth to put a spell on Bunny MacKenzie.”

  Now that got everyone’s attention.

  “You don’t want to put a spell on your mother-in-law,” Rosie from Assisted Living said sternly. Rosie was a world-class eavesdropper. “You end as you begin. Remember that.”

  “She’s not my mother-in-law,” I reminded the vampire retiree.

  “She’s your baby’s grandma,” Rosie said, dentures clicking madly inside her mouth.

  “Listen to Rosie,” Midge Stallworth chirped. “She knows.”

  Rosie was right. Midge was right. They were all right. I had to declare Bunny a no-spells zone and stick to my guns.

  This was between Luke and his mother and I was going to stay so far out of it I might as well be in Bermuda.

  “Look at this place,” I said with a groan. “It looks like an army marched through.” I began gathering up empty cups and crumpled napkins.

  “You go sit down, honey,” Lilith said. “We’ll all pitch in and have it done in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “Of course we will,” Renate said. “Many hands make light work.”

  “Enough with the clichés!” Janice pleaded. “You’re making my ears bleed.”

  Everyone ignored her.

  “Luke should know you never hang up on your mother,” Midge Stallworth trilled as she went in search of a broom and dustpan. “No matter how old you are, you have to listen to your mother.”

  I loved mother talk. These days I soaked up every word.

  “Amen,” Renate Weaver said, suddenly shrinking down to her natural Fae size. “I blueflamed Bettina last week and she claimed the pixel resolution was weak, but I wasn’t buying that hogwash.” Blueflame was our community’s answer to the BlackBerry and iPhone but instead of a tiny screen we used life-sized holograms to communicate. “I knew she was out there having lunch with her hotsy-totsy human harp friends and didn’t have time for her mother.”

  Even eternally sweet Lilith, our township librarian/historian, was foursquare on the side of maternal indignation. “You’re right, Renate. According to studies done by the Institute of Magick and Alchemy, blueflame is the most reliable form of communication in the dimension. There’s no excuse.”

  “Of course there isn’t,” Renate said. It wasn’t easy to strike fear in a daughter’s heart when you were currently the size of a field mouse, but Renate gave it her all as she glared over at her eldest, Bettina.

  “Fair warning, Chloe: if human mothers are anything like the Fae, then poor Luke is toast,” Bettina deadpanned as she fitted her harp into its travel case.

  “Bunny will get over the dropped call,” I said as I retrieved another used paper plate, “but she’s never going to forgive Luke for not telling her about the baby.”

  “His family’s old-school?” Lynette asked as she wiped at a smudge on the display counter.

  I nodded. “The MacKenzies are an until-death-do-us-part clan. They still can’t believe two of their kids are divorced.”

  “Luke’s superstitious,” Verna Griggs said as she settled down on one of the sofas with the log cabin afghan she’d been knitting for the last six months. “Paul said he knocks wood every time he talks about the baby. That’s why he didn’t tell his family. He wants to wait until she’s here and he can count all the fingers and toes.”

  Luke had struggled to make peace with his daughter’s death and he had finally achieved his goal not long before we found out we were pregnant. He claimed he wasn’t superstitious, but I knew he wouldn’t relax until our baby girl was born.

  Which was all well and good for us, but families didn’t think that way. When it came to babies, nothing less than full disclosure would do.

  Lilith nodded vigorously. “Archie saw him throw salt over his shoulder at Fully Caffeinated when someone asked when you were due.”

  “And gods forbid a black cat crosses his path,” Midge said with a cackle. “He turned paler than my last customer.”

  Midge and her husband, George, owned the town’s only (and rarely used) funeral home and she never missed a chance for a little mortuary humor.

  “Hey!” I protested. “There’s nothing wrong with a little charm to keep the evil forces from your doorstep, is there?”

  “That’s exactly what’s so puzzling about humans,” Lynette said. “They have no trouble believing in magick when it suits their purposes, but parade the truth right in front of their eyes and they’re blind as bats.”

  Which sounded like a very good thing to me. Sugar Maple’s existence was predicated on our ability to hide our magick in plain sight.

  Midge frowned at Lynette. “Dumpling, I really wish you’d stop bringing bats into the conversation. You know how I feel about those cranky old stereotypes. This is the twenty-first century.”

  “Not everything is a vampire reference,” Lynette shot back. “I can talk about bats without you getting your Spanx in a twist.”

  We all pretended not to hear the rogue giggle that erupted from somewhere in the room. There wasn’t a pair of Spanx in the universe big enough to accommodate Midge Stallworth’s double-wide butt.

  “Are there any more cupcakes left?” I asked Janice. This seemed as good a time as any to change the subject.

  “At least a dozen,” she said. Not to mention some cranberry muffins and blueberry scones.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

  “Baked goods get stale so quickly,” Janice said with a straight face.

  Lilith winked at me. “I’d say their shelf life is pretty limited.”

  “Minutes,” I agreed. “I’d hate to see them go to waste.”

  “I’ll brew the tea,” Lynette said, heading off to the mini-kitchen in the back.

  “I’ll get the cupcakes,” Bettina said.

  “And I’ll call the traveling house sprites to do the cleanup afterward,” I said, to cheers all around.

  “This feels like the old days,” Rosie said as we settled around the crackling gas fireplace with our snacks and our knitting. “We haven’t had a knit night in forever.”

  “Blame me,” I said, casting on a tiny six-color stranded cap I’d been dying to start. “I think I’ve done nothing but eat and sleep since I found out I was pregnant.”

  A round-robin of knowing looks were exchanged.

  I patted my belly. “Hello, people. I am with child. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

  “Honey, it’s not your pregnancy changing things, it’s that troll you and Luke are living with,” Midge said, patting my knee with one plump, perfectly manicured hand. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “She is—you should excuse the expression—a real beyotch.”

  My pals nodded like a gaggle of b
obble-head dolls.

  “Midge is right,” Verna said. “I know that Elspeth is one of your distant relatives, Janice, but the woman is a bigger buzzkill than Prohibition.”

  “Don’t blame me,” Janice said. “She’s here to midwife Chloe. When the baby arrives, she’ll go back to Salem.”

  “She’s not here to midwife me,” I protested. “She’s here to make me crazy.” At least that was the way it felt.

  “She’s a troll,” Verna persisted. “You don’t have troll in your background, Janice. I’ve been meaning to ask how she fits in your family tree.”

  Janice sighed. “Witch on her mother’s side, troll on her father’s.”

  “His looks, her powers,” I observed with maybe a tad more snark than I had intended. Janice’s eleventh cousin four times removed was a toothache you couldn’t get rid of.

  “I know the type all too well,” Renate chimed in. “She’ll never leave. Mark my words on that.”

  “If she doesn’t leave, I will,” I said as my fingers deftly maneuvered the brightly colored strands of fine merino. “The way she creeps around, all cloaked up and hidden—” I gave a mock shiver. “It’s a good thing Luke and I got pregnant before she got here because it sure couldn’t have happened after.”

  “I hear you, sister,” Janice said as everyone laughed. “Lorcan’s mother came to live with us after his father pierced the veil and it was the longest seven years of my life.”

  “She was there eight weeks,” I corrected her with a grin. “It only seemed like seven years.”

  “It couldn’t have been that bad,” Rosie said. “You and Lorcan managed to pop out five kids in four years.”

  Janice laughed louder than anyone. “Safety in numbers,” she said with a wide grin. “I figured if we outnumbered the in-laws we might have a chance.”

  “Don’t get me started on in-laws,” Midge said. “George’s folks were from the old country.” She rolled her saucer-sized eyes for emphasis. “Out every night hunting, sleeping all day while I was homeschooling the kids. Bloodstains everywhere. They’re the ones who got the boys involved in that whole retro-feeding movement, but that’s a whole other story. It wasn’t until I made Ina Garten’s roast chicken with forty cloves of garlic five nights straight that they decided it was time to get their own place.”