Making Midlife Magic: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Forty Is Fabulous Book 1)

by Heloise Hull

  “You think it was the scrolls?”

  “Impossible to tell. We have barely scratched the surface of their secrets.”

  I stuffed the scrolls in my suitcase and zipped it up. Fortunately, I really did have an appointment in town to join the ladies for our wine hour. We’d been extending it from Thursdays and Fridays to pretty much every night of the week, but only a glass. Some of us had honest work to do in the mornings. Rosemary had even mentioned letting me proof the yeast soon. Then again, she was a few centuries old, so her soon and my soon may be decades apart.

  “I’ll ask the ladies what they know when I see them, okay? You stay away from the scrolls.”

  Piero didn’t need to be told twice. He had already put several feet between himself and the text and was busy making the sign of the cross.

  I jumped on the Vespa and went straight to the taverna. I wanted to tell them about Piero and the Runaway Goddess. Being supernatural themselves, they could have some good insights—or even know her. But Marco was alone, wiping down the glasses with a rag when I entered.

  “Ciao,” I greeted him breathlessly. “Is Rosemary around?”

  “Ciao, Ava,” Marco’s eyes hardened a little. “She’s actually at the basilica.”

  I studied him. Cats didn’t hide their emotions well, and this one was silently hissing. “What’s going on, Marco?”

  He took a deep breath. “Ava, I appreciate that you’ve come and upended your life to begin anew, but you’re upending my Rosemary’s, too. You’re running her ragged between researching at that creepy basilica, teaching you how to bake, and staying up all night gossiping like Nonna.”

  I bristled. “I’m not forcing Rosemary to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  Marco flamed red under his voluminous beard. “She’s too tired at night.”

  I stared at him until, finally, it dawned on me. “Oh my God, Marco. If she’s too tired to have sex, tell her to teach me the secrets of yeast and I’ll open the bakery a few days a week. That way you two can sleep in. Together.”

  Marco, more sheep than lion, turned around and pretended to put away a stack of clean glasses. “Thank you,” he muttered.

  Part of me found it sweet that he was still so in love with his wife after all these years, but bring it up to her. Not me.

  “Actually,” Marco said, drying his hands on a towel, “now that I think about it, she’s been gone longer than she should. Do you mind watching the taverna while I check on her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” He untied his apron. “I’m not usually this worried.”

  “I understand, Marco.”

  “It’s just, with the ghosts and all, we’re on edge, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “I get it, Marco. Now, go check on Rosemary.”

  He threw me the keys. “Just in case.” Then he was gone.

  I wandered around the old bar imagining what the place would’ve been like in 1260. Was everything shiny and new? To me, it felt like this place had sprung up like Athena from Zeus, fully formed with a patina already in place. Was it possible that Marco had opened it? I couldn’t imagine having the same job long enough to get a pension, let alone hundreds and hundreds of years. No job was that much fun.

  The door swung open and I jumped. “Sorry, unless you can point to the beer or bottle of wine you’d like, I’m afraid—oh! Luca, I didn’t recognize you for a second.”

  He shifted his weight uneasily, and I had a feeling he didn’t like to be caught off-guard. “Is Marco here? I wanted to grab something to eat before I went on my rounds.”

  “You go on rounds?” I asked.

  “How else would the polizia keep a presence?”

  I got a better look as he approached. The man looked exhausted. “If you wanted to take a nap, I’m sure someone would be happy to do your rounds for you,” I said. Maybe I should take a page out of the Runaway Goddess’s book and drug the poor guy so he could get some decent sleep. Lost goats and broken fence disputes could wait a day.

  “I’m fine,” Luca said. “Marco?”

  “He’s not here, but he’ll be back soon.”

  “Marco’s gone?”

  “But he’ll be back soon.”

  Luca couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Ah, okay. I think I have some leftover bread and cheese, so I’ll manage not to starve.”

  I considered the kitchen behind me, finally gesturing to it. “I could probably make you something. I’m sure Marco wouldn’t mind if I touched his stove. Right? How does a grilled cheese sandwich sound?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Luca said seriously. “That’s Marco’s second love. The gesture is thoughtful, but I’ll manage. I will see you tonight still?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly, having completely forgotten I’d agreed to a date. So much had happened in only a few hours, and yesterday already felt like a lifetime ago.

  At that, Luca thanked me and left, which was a good thing. Five minutes later, two figures burst in, chattering excitedly. I jumped to my feet. “Rosemary? Marco? What’s going on? Did you find something?”

  “Ava!” Rosemary kissed me on both cheeks and lugged me out the door. “Lock up, I have something to show you.”

  All three of us stood at the stone entrance to the basilica, the closest Aradia let me get. “Marco, walk through again,” Rosemary said. “Show Ava.”

  Marco exhaled loudly, but did as he was told. He entered the church and weaved between the pews, rubbing his chin on everything. “Happy? Would you like me to do a little dance? Light a candle and say a prayer? Desecrate a tomb? What are we going for here?”

  Rosemary’s eyes were shining. “See?”

  I stared harder at Marco, who was now rubbing his butt up and down a stone column like a stripper pole. “Um… you might have to help me a little here.”

  “Marco,” she called. “Go down to the crypt.”

  My eyes widened as Marco pulled open the trap door and sank out of sight.

  “Now do you see what I mean?” she asked.

  “He can get through,” I whispered.

  “He can get through,” she agreed.

  A croaky voice rang out across the cobblestones. “Mamma! What are you doing? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  It was Nonna, hobbling at the speed of a rabbit. Although I was beginning to wonder about her—she was clearly hiding something from me—I was still glad to see her. “Nonna, something strange happened with Piero, that Renaissance ghost. I’m not sure, but I think someone was trying to kill him. For real this time. Do you have any idea what that could mean?”

  “No, Mamma, I don’t. Perhaps we should visit our friends at the cemetery. See what they can dig up with those old bones.”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea, but I can’t tonight. I have a date.”

  “A date?”

  “With Luca.”

  Nonna grimaced, and I felt a flare of annoyance. “Aren’t you happy? You were the one pushing for this!”

  “Eh,” she shrugged, as Rosemary laughed.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, but Nonna chose that moment to go selectively deaf.

  Marco came back to the door. “I’m sorry, love, but I don’t understand what you think you’ve found.”

  “You’re descended from the Nemean Lion.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Your fur is impenetrable.”

  “Once again, I know.”

  Rosemary gave his beard a loving stroke. “I’m really going to miss it.”

  Marco backed away, alarm lighting up his face. “Oh no. No, you don’t. I love you, cara mia, heart of my heart, but no.”

  “Marco.” Her voice was low and sultry. I shifted my weight uncomfortably as she nuzzled his ear, nipping it slightly. “I promise to do that one thing,” she whispered.

  Marco’s head snapped up. His eyes searche
d hers. “The thing we talked about?”

  She nodded.

  “You promise?”

  Rosemary winked and Marco began to purr. “Fine, woman! Shave me, take my fur, but you can never take my manhood.”

  Nonna slapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit, you big pussy cat! Now what’s this all about?”

  Chapter Twenty

  The lion roared louder, and Rosemary wrung her hands together. “I’m so sorry. Did I nick you again? Maybe someone else should do this. My hands are shaking.”

  Marco clearly wanted to shift back, but he stayed as a lion, waiting patiently. Whatever Rosemary had promised must’ve been worth it. I had to admit, I was curious. What went on in other couples’ sex lives? Mine had grown so staid the last few years, I wasn’t sure what to expect if I started dating again. Luca’s square jaw came to mind. He hadn’t dated in over ten years, either. We could go slow together.

  I felt my face heating up and did my best to shake the images out of my mind. Focus. Piero’s afterlife depended on this.

  I grabbed Rosemary’s hands and squeezed them. “You’ve got this. Take a drink of water and steady your mind. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Good!”

  “You’re right. I can do this.” She took hold of Marco’s mane and began slicing precise rows.

  While we waited, I filled Nonna in about the basilica and how Thessaly thought I could trigger my powers inside. Nonna grumbled a bit at the siren’s name, but she finally admitted, “That old demon might be on to something. Best go find out.”

  I nodded, the images from the tunnel ringing in my mind. I couldn’t escape them. Since I’d seen them after touching Nonna’s grimoire, I decided to take a chance. “Nonna, have you ever heard of someone called the Runaway Goddess?”

  The old woman lurched and I caught her hard.

  “You have,” I said. “I see it in your eyes.”

  Nonna rubbed her elbow. “Sì. But where did you hear of her?”

  “I didn’t hear. I saw it in the scrolls.”

  Nonna’s eyes darted to the left at Rosemary and Marco, who was growling low in his throat.

  “Nonna,” I pressed.

  “Yes, yes,” she fluttered her hands. “The Runaway Goddess, the Distant Goddess, the Wandering Goddess. They are all her names among others. But she is gone, just like the rest of the gods.”

  “In the Archon Wars?”

  “No, before that. Much before that. She is a primordial being who read the tablets and was punished. She is nothing to worry about. Focus on your task at hand—figuring out who you are.”

  Interesting. Marco let out a roar, but this time, Rosemary only admonished him instead of getting flustered.

  “I didn’t even draw blood that time. Stop making me nervous!”

  Marco settled back down with his huge head on his paws, but his tail kept twitching. Soon, he’d be completely hairless, and I wondered what the man Marco would look like without all his golden hair. Would the lion look more like a house cat?

  Twenty minutes later, I had my answer. A very bald, very hairless, very large man. I could tell Rosemary was trying not to laugh, but Marco wasn’t buying it. He kept muttering in Latin under his breath.

  “And a pox on your family,” Nonna said indignantly.

  “Yes, no need to curse everyone, my love.” Rosemary ran her hands over his bald head. “It’s a little pointy at the top, but I like it.”

  “Just remember your promise,” Marco growled.

  Rosemary ran her finger down his chest and handed me the pelt. I had to admit, it was weird. And still warm. “Do you want to go to the basilica right now?” she asked.

  I checked the clock on the wall. It was already five, and I was supposed to meet Luca at eight, but I didn’t want to wait. “Sure, but let’s hurry.” I turned to Nonna. “Can you check on the ghosts in the cemetery? Something is spooking the ghosts here, and I want to know if they’re affected.”

  She nodded. “We’ll meet back at Villa Venus. Don’t fret. We’ll get to the bottom of it, Mamma. Now go.”

  As I turned to leave, Nonna gripped me by the shoulders and held me for a moment. “Listen, Mamma. I know it’s scary. But girls develop before boys for a reason. We are the true leaders, nursing our men from day one. We gave them comfort and healing and tempered their rages. We are designed to lead. Matriarchies outnumbered patriarchies in the history of humankind, and they were good and just. You are a true leader. You’ve nursed your boys. Now it’s time to lead.”

  The pressure released and Nonna hobbled away, her silk robes ruffling in the cool Mediterranean breeze like the glamorous old movie star she was, as if she hadn’t just laid a great pearl of wisdom at my feet.

  Rosemary sent for Coronis in case we needed her healing ability, and we jogged through the winding streets to meet her out front of the basilica. She looked equal parts apprehensive and excited, which summed up how I felt.

  “Are you ready to change your life?” she asked.

  “Is anyone?”

  “I think it’s beyond brave,” Rosemary said. She stepped forward and wrapped the pelt around my shoulders. It smelled wild and dangerous. “This should protect you, but if you feel anything menacing, ever, come right back out. We can always find another way to get your siren what she wants.”

  “What if this is the only way to know what I truly am?”

  “Who says this will give you the answer?” Coronis countered. “Maybe the demon siren was lying about triggering your powers.”

  That was a sobering thought. I pulled the lion skin closer and let Rosemary pin it at the hollow in my throat. “Let’s find out, eh?” she said gently. She pulled the magnificent mane of the pelt over my head so that I was completely covered.

  I wished my friends go could inside with me, but I knew this was something I had to do alone. With one hesitant foot, I went to the door. There was a slight pulse, heavy and dense, but with a single push I passed to the other side. It almost felt like passing through a wall of Jell-O, but once I got through, the pressure on all sides relaxed. Still, I didn’t take off the fur.

  I went straight to the crypt. I had no idea where or what would trigger my powers, but it was the only place I hadn’t been yet. It was also the most protected, so it seemed like a good place to start. I wanted this so badly. To know that I was different. That all of those people were wrong about me. That I could still be destined for great things, even in this middle part of my life.

  I took out a flashlight and shined it into the dark entrance of the crypt. Cracked stone steps led downwards, and cobwebs filled the edges. I could already feel the cold seeping up from the damp earth. Resisting the urge to shiver, I took a first tentative step. Then another. I could do this.

  The stairs were uneven, and each stone had a little sunken impression from hundreds of years of padding feet. It made me wonder whose footsteps I was following in.

  Despite the eeriness, the crypt felt a little sterile the deeper I got. No rodents or any other life existed down here. When I reached the bottom, I pulled Marco’s fur around me tighter, the bitter cold making my teeth chatter and goosebumps speckle my arms. This place reeked of ancient magic.

  I swept my light around the small space. Except for the sealed tombs, it was empty and deserted. There was a tiny wooden door that looked like it had been built for gnomes in the far corner. I knelt and yanked on the iron ring.

  Nothing happened.

  I tugged a few more times, a whisper suffusing the air around me like cigarette smoke. Without articulating a word, it told me I was getting close. I could feel the air change, the pressure beginning to build around me. My eardrums popped, but still the door wouldn’t budge.

  I knew it was the island fighting me, trying to keep me from my future, so I pushed on. Even inside my protection, the pressure was nearly unbearable, bringing me to my knees. In a final effort, I crashed into the door with my shoulder and screamed, “You cannot stop me!”

  To my amazement, the door cr
eaked on its hinges and swung open. Instantly, the pressure in the room receded, and I fell forward into a dark set of tunnels.

  From here, I had to crawl. The stone was cold and hard on my hands and knees, and I winced at the pain. I was going to have bruises covering them tomorrow. I’d better come out of here with something impressive. Something mind-bending.

  I crawled at least thirty feet before reaching a fork in the tunnel. My head swung left and right. I closed my eyes, opening my senses. In all my years of yoga and meditation, I’d always been overwhelmed by a million things, never achieving that coveted blankness. Now, I let myself sink into the quiet of the tunnel. I could hear moisture dripping slowly to my right. I could smell the tang of ancient magic. I could feel the chill. Regardless of what happened, being on Aradia had helped me regain peace. I didn’t need Jim to survive. I survived before him and I would after him.

  So which way?

  I reached my arm out to each fork. The left felt colder, and my gut told me it was that way, whatever I was seeking. So I went left.

  The descent was steeper, leading deeper into the earth. I groped forward as sensations of fear and excitement grew with each foot.

  The path ended at another door, and my hand hovered over the latch. This was it. Only this door stood between my old life and my new one. I knew it as well as I knew every word in my favorite quote by the French writer, Anaïs Nin. “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.”

  With a deep breath, I shoved the door open. A jolt went through me as I staggered into a small room. Everything was dark, and it felt as if all sound here was swallowed. Somehow I knew it had kept itself hidden by absorbing all light and noise. Until my arrival.

  My flashlight spread a warm, yellow glow over everything. It was all stone, except for a huge sarcophagus in the middle of the room. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to suppress the yelp of surprise.

  I wasn’t alone.

  A man laid on a marble slab. He had a shroud covering his lower half and his arms crossed over his chest, but I could still see his face. He was terrifyingly beautiful. An unnatural beauty that felt like a gut punch every time I looked at him, almost as if his angular lines, high cheekbones, and sharp jaw had been carved from poisoned marble. The toasted nut color of his skin looked like it had been imbued by the desert itself, and black hieroglyphs curled softly up and down his biceps. I knew exactly who it was. The man from my Emerald Tablet vision.