by Wendy Wang
“And she showed you a Grand Torino?” Jason chuckled.
“I saw the car. I just happen to know it’s a Grand Torino, that’s all,” Charlie said.
“Should I ask why?” Jason teased. “I didn’t think you were into muscle cars.”
“She’s not,” Lisa said matter-of-factly. “Marty Cobb.”
“Exactly,” Charlie grinned. “It looked a lot like his, except the color. I think his was red.”
“Who’s Marty Cobb?” Jason asked.
“He’s a boy we went to high school with,” Lisa said. “He was a senior when I was a junior and Charlie and Jen were sophomores.
“Any chance you know the year of that Torino?” Jason asked.
“No, sorry,” Charlie said.
Lisa shrugged. “I could find out. I updated his will last year. I could call him.”
“That would be great, babe. Thank you.” Jason said scribbling into his notepad. “Was that it? Any other details?”
“He … he was sad.” Charlie frowned. “Remorseful. He told her he was sorry. It didn’t make any sense to me.”
“Any chance you got a look at his face?” Jason asked sounding hopeful.
“Not really. It was shadowy. There was one thing though.” Charlie closed her eyes and commanded the memory of the vision to appear. In her mind, she stood beside the man at the trunk. He was nothing but a silhouette but something stood out. Her eyes opened and stared directly into Jason’s intense face. “He had a pony tail.”
“A ponytail. You sure?” Jason asked.
“Yes,” Charlie said.
“That’s good. That’s really good, Charlie,” Jason said. “As usual you amaze me with your details.”
“I’m sorry it’s not more,” Charlie said.
“It’s more than I had an hour ago. I’ll take it.” Jason gave her a reassuring smile and touched her arm. “I kinda wish Cameron was here to hear this.”
"Why?" Lisa said.
"Cameron's not a believer," Charlie said. "It wouldn't matter if he was here, Jason. He’d think that somehow I had weaseled the information out of you."
"That’s such bullshit," Lisa muttered. "I mean I understand being a doubter but if you have faith in her, Jason, then why can't he?"
"He hasn't seen what I have,” Jason said. “And I was not a believer in the beginning, remember?”
“Oh yeah, I remember,” Charlie said.
“Is he gonna put a damper on what you do see? I'll send him away if he will. I don't give a crap if he believes me or not," Jason said.
"It's fine," Charlie said.
"Will you stop doing that?" Lisa snapped. "It's not fine."
"Yes, it is," Charlie countered. "He's not important to me. It's more important that Jason believes in me."
"Awww, Charleeee," Jason grinned, his eyes full of mischief. "I heart you, too. Do we need to hug?" He opened his arms wide and walked toward her in a comical way.
"Jason Tate don't you dare," Charlie said laughing. "You know it will throw me off."
Jason stopped a foot away and swiped at the air in front of his nose. "Shoo, you stink like bug spray. Wouldn’t want to get that all over my clothes, now would I?"
"Lisa, I can't believe you put up with this," Charlie said.
Lisa grinned. "Yeah, I know. It's a good thing he's good looking."
Jason gave her a hurt look. "Really? That's all I am to you? Eye candy."
"If the Skittle fits," Lisa teased.
"Okay you two, cut it out. You’re gonna sap my mojo," Charlie scolded.
"Well we wouldn’t want to do that," Lisa said. "Sorry, Charlie. We'll behave."
"Yeah, sorry, Charlie," Jason said. "So can I ask you a question?"
"I think you just did," Lisa said giving him a hard time.
"Har D har, har," Jason said exaggerating his face. "You are just a barrel of laughs today Lisa Marie Holloway."
Lisa giggled. Charlie couldn't remember the last time she’d heard Lisa giggle like that.
"You know you can ask me anything," Charlie said.
"It's not that I'm unhappy to see Lisa. But why were you so adamant that she come," Jason asked.
"Adamant? That’s a little strong," Charlie wrinkled her nose.
"I'm going to help her," Lisa said.
"How?" Jason asked.
"I'm going to cast a spell that will prevent her from experiencing pain or any sort of physical manifestation of her visions," Lisa said.
"You can do that?" Jason asked.
"I'm going to try," Lisa said. "It was actually Charlie's idea."
"Yeah," Charlie said. "But Lisa has the magical capability to carry it out. I don't. Not on my own anyway."
"Wow," Jason said. "That's great, if it will protect Charlie."
"Let's just hope it works," Lisa said. "It's a spell I got from a witch doctor that Evangeline knows. I haven’t had time to practice it, though."
"Is that dangerous?" Jason asked, concern deepening the lines in his forehead.
"Let's hope not," Lisa said. Jason's mouth gaped open.
"It'll be fine. Okay?" Lisa said patting him on the shoulder. "I promise. I wouldn't do anything that would hurt her."
"Okay," Jason gave them both a wary eye.
Charlie and Lisa traded glances. Both suppressing a grin. "Don't worry Jason. There is nobody in this world that I trust more than my cousins. Lisa's an exemplary witch. She won't let me down."
"Okay, if you say so," Jason said. "I guess we should hurry up. I left Cameron in the clearing by himself."
"Yeah, we better hurry," Charlie said, wryly. " We wouldn't want the bogeyman to get him."
Chapter 9
Ben walked out of his motel room and pulled the door tight behind him. He walked across the street to the Waffle Hut to grab some breakfast and figure out his next move. He'd arrived in the middle of the night and had barely slept, the hurt look on Jen's face haunting his dreams. There was nothing he could do about that now. He was here and he had a job to do. If he survived maybe he'd go back. Maybe. He wasn't even sure that she would have him now. And who could blame her? She needed somebody steady in her life. Somebody who could offer stability and health insurance. Somebody who wasn't him. It didn't matter how he felt about her, he had pledged his life to do this job and that's what he was going to do.
Ben sat down at the counter and turned the coffee cup sitting in front of him upright. Within seconds a waitress in a faded yellow uniform with the name Florence embroidered above her left breast appeared and filled his cup.
"What can I get you, doll?" She pulled a pencil from the breast pocket of her dress along with an order pad. She perched the tip of the pencil against the grayish striped paper.
"What's good?" He asked.
"The waffles," she said flatly. “That’s why they call it the Waffle Hut.” There was no cheerful smile. No sparkling blue eyes. No good humor with a joke at the ready. The whole act of ordering breakfast left him empty. God, what was wrong with him? Six months ago he would've breezed into town, found his demon and done his job. Now all he could do was think about Jen and the day they first met. How adorable she had been. How calm and excited she had made him feel all at the same time.
He frowned, giving the menu in front of him a cursory glance. "I guess I'll have the waffles then."
"Okay, hon." She scribbled his order on her pad and stuck it into a spinning wheel at a pass-through to the kitchen before she moved on to the next occupied seat.
He glanced around at the sorry little restaurant. The clientele was mostly men, drinking coffee and eating waffles before heading to their jobs. The air stank of stale cigarettes and quiet desperation.
Ben pulled his phone from his pocket and began to search for any local shops that might possibly be run by a witch. Every community he'd ever been to had a witch and sometimes a whole coven. If he could find whoever supplied local witches with their herbs and crystals then he could figure out what the hell was going on here.
&nbs
p; A quick Google search didn't yield much locally. Everything could be bought online these days. When further searches didn’t point to a likely supplier, he bought a local paper from the machine by the door. It would be a sad day for him when little newspapers ceased to exist. He leafed through the pages until he found the police blotter. Among the reports of drunken and disorderly conduct by a couple of yokels and a neighbor dispute over a dead dog, one thing stood out.
A disturbance on Clarence Street had been reported by one Miss Myrtle Henshaw. The police had been called out to screams in the night and the loud clattering of trash cans being overturned. Miss Myrtle had reported seeing a dark figure fleeing from the house of one Megan Forrester. When the police knocked on Miss Forrester's door there was no answer and no sign of a struggle or forced entry.
Ben chuckled. It looked like a witch, and he was almost willing to bet that it’d smell like a witch once he got close enough. A witch hiding in plain sight. He added sugar to his coffee and waited for his waffles. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd be out of this town by dinnertime. Maybe.
Ben parked in front of the tidy craftsman style house. He noticed the neighbor across the street peeking out from behind her curtains as he approached the front door. He smiled and waved at her and she quickly ducked out of sight. He knocked and waited. Why not put on a good show? He quickly glanced over his shoulder toward the neighbor's house again. She seemed to have either taken up a different perch to spy on him or was minding her own business. He somehow doubted it was the latter. Ben placed his hand on the knob and gave it a turn. The antique brass doorknob didn't give. He tapped on the metal three times and whispered, "Unlock, unlock, unlock." His magic was always at the ready and it didn't fail him now. The lock clicked and Ben turned the knob and walked inside as if he belonged there.
He closed the door behind him.
"Megan?" He stopped and listened to the house. It didn't even creak. "Megan, my name is Ben Sutton. I'm with the Defenders of Light. I'm here to help you." No response.
Ben made his way methodically through the house starting in the parlor to the right of the foyer. The house looked as if it had been completely restored. The dark oak floors, baseboards and wainscoting gleamed in the early morning light that poured through the front windows. From the looks of it, Megan didn't use the fireplace. She had placed a tiered candleholder where the logs should have gone. Built-in bookshelves flanked the fireplace and he gave the books and knickknacks a once over. If she was a hedge witch, working alone and not within a coven, she didn't put it on display. There were no books on magic or spells. There weren't even books on gardening or cooking. Just a lot of paperbacks. He pulled one off the dusty shelf and found a long-haired, bare chested man on the front cover. Ben chuckled to himself. A romance reader.
He noticed two things — a bare spot in the thick dust next to a miniature statue of the Greek goddess Persephone. Mixed with the dust was a glittery yellow residue. Ben traced his finger through the thick powdery layer and drew it up to his nose. The scent of rotten eggs made him gag before he had a chance to sneeze. Brimstone. Megan had definitely been conjuring. This was the kind of stuff that gave witches a bad name. He wiped his finger on the dark velvet armchair nearest the fireplace and scowled. Freaking hedge witches. Why couldn't they just follow the rules? Now he was going to have to hunt her down and take her in. No matter what her excuse was.
He crossed the foyer to the dining room and moved into the kitchen through the butler's pantry. A small oak kitchen table nestled beneath a bank of windows overlooking the backyard was set with one placemat and one glass half full of water. There were no dishes in the drainer and everything else seemed to be in order in the tidy little home. Still the energy of this house pulsed against his skin. Magic had definitely been practiced here recently. The energy of it hung in the air like a mist hanging over a summer lake.
Ben headed up the back stairs to the second floor. The eerie silence of the house made the hairs on his arms stand at attention. He opened and closed his hands a couple of times, ready to fight whatever came at him. A cursory inspection of the two bedrooms made him wonder when was the last time Megan had slept here. The headboard of the bed in the master bedroom looked dusty.
Ben went to the large window and opened the blinds. The room practically sparkled with the golden yellow dust. Dread coiled around his heart and squeezed.
“Where are you Megan?" he muttered. The only answer he received was silence.
Chapter 10
Charlie unpacked the large paper bag with the handle of the Kitchen Witch Café logo on the side.
"So I see you didn't cook," Tom teased as he spread the blue gingham tablecloth that Charlie had borrowed from her uncle’s house.
She had brought him to Palmetto Point Beach Park and led him to the farthest picnic table underneath the last picnic shelter in the park. It had the best view of the ocean.
"You really don't want me to," Charlie said. "Trust me on this. I can make a mean scrambled eggs but that's about the extent of my cooking skills."
"It's fine," Tom said in a jovial voice. “I’d eat dirt as long as I got to be with you."
Charlie’s stomach flip-flopped and she couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her face as she opened the plastic box holding their green salad. Tom took two paper plates and set them next to each other on the blue cloth. When the feast was all laid out they sat down next to each other and dug into the fried chicken, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, green salad and potato salad. For dessert Jen had sent banana pudding.
"I like this place," he said, looking out at the seascape while he speared a cucumber on his plate. "You come here a lot?"
"Not really. I'd love to come more, though.” She scraped half of the ranch dressing from a small plastic portion cup onto her salad and handed the rest of it to Tom. “ It seems like the only time I get over here anymore is in the summer when I have Evan."
"Sure, that makes sense.” He used up the rest of the dressing on his salad.
"I have a confession," Charlie said wiping her hands on the paper napkin Tom had laid by her plate.
"Really?" He tilted his head a little and gave her a sideways glance. "And what is that, Charlie Payne?"
"I brought you here for reason," she said.
He leaned in close and she could feel his breath against her cheek when he whispered, “Would the reason be foreplay?"
Charlie nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. Her cheeks burned as if she'd stood in the sun too long. "Just cool your jets there, mister."
He laughed out loud and Charlie found herself enraptured with the sound. Oh good Lord — maybe Ben was right. Maybe Tom did have magic. It certainly felt like he was casting a spell on her.
"I'm just teasing,” he said. "No pressure really. We have all the time in the world."
“Maybe you do," Charlie said.
He cleared his throat. "So what is this confession?"
"I'm actually kind of hoping that we’re going to see a spirit today," Charlie said.
"Did you want me here for protection?" he quipped.
"Oh stop it."
"Who’s the spirit? Do you know?“ He picked up the little container of banana pudding and took a bite. A moan escaped his lips. "Oh my God, this is so good. I swear it's like Jen cast a spell on these bananas."
"Uh huh," Charlie said, focusing on her own plate. She had no idea whether Jen could cast a spell on her food, but she had her suspicions. “Who I'm looking for is the blue lady. Have you ever heard of her?"
"Of course. Everyone in a hundred mile range has heard of her. She's been dodging reapers for over 160 years. Why do you want to see her? Legend has it that any human who does is cursed."
"Right," Charlie said, her voice little shaky. "I’ve already seen her once this week."
"Did you?" Tom said, giving her cautious look. "Did she see you? It's the interaction, I believe, that invokes the curse."
"Yes, she saw me. We had a little chat."
"What did she say?" he asked warily.
"Not a whole lot really.” Charlie pushed the salad on her plate around with her fork. “I got the feeling that in life she may have been psychic. I think she actually foresaw her lover’s death."
"That's an interesting theory." Tom held his fork suspended over his food as he listened to Charlie’s account.
"I also don't think that seeing her and speaking to her is a curse."
"Let me guess, you don't believe in curses," Tom teased. "What kind of a witch are you?”
“A witch that doesn’t practice curses. I also don't believe for a second that a spirit can cast one. I felt kind of sorry for her. She's just looking for her love and he's never gonna come," Charlie said as a pang of sadness filled her chest.
"And you want me to help her." Tom gazed at her with awe in his eyes. He leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re a good woman, Charlie Payne.”
“I don’t know about that," Charlie said. "I actually want to talk about her prediction for me before I hand her over to you and help her find the proverbial light."
"She's a tricky one,” he said. "My brother William has been after her for years." He had resumed his lunch, with some gusto for a man who didn’t require food for sustenance.
"Will it cause problems if you take her?" Charlie asked.
"No," Tom chuckled. "Some reapers are territorial but my family isn't. If I found her and was able to capture her, then William would strike her name from his book and move on to the next soul.”
"Can I ask you a question about your family?" Charlie fiddled with the ridge around the handle of her plastic spoon.
"Of course. You know me, I’m an open book.” Tom gave her a wink. There were things he wouldn't tell her, things she probably didn’t really want to know and things he'd been bound to keep secret by oath.
“Right,” Charlie said.
“How about, I tell you what I am allowed but no more. Deal?”
“Deal,” Charlie swallowed hard. Now that she had the chance, the words wanted to stick in her throat. "I know that William is your brother. And Joy is your sister. Do you have a mother? Or a father? How does it … how does it work exactly?”