A moment later Plenty emerged from the bathroom, her face cleaner and with some color returned to her cheeks.
“You look ready to face the day,” I said.
“Hardly. I just want to get out of here and get back to Aunt Fiona’s so I can take a long, hot bath.” She looked around the mess of the trailer, and I think it was dawning on her that she hadn’t found any sort of prince here, nor anything charming.
“Well, we’ll stop and get you a bite to eat on the way and then you can get some R and R,” Roger said.
Plenty gave him a look, then made her way to one of the windows where sunlight was streaming in. A mirror with a beer slogan hung next to it, and she began fussing with her face. She pulled out her compact and clicked it open, wincing when she saw her reflection. For a second I thought she looked like she was about to cry, but she powered through the impulse and began fussing with her face, picking up a cosmetic wedge and dabbing some powder under her eyes and on the bridge of her nose.
“Oh, did you fill it with makeup,” I said, making my way over to her.
She nodded. “It does a nice job holding powder.”
I stood behind her to peer over her shoulder. I caught a flash of my reflection in the compact mirror. I did look a bit tired, I thought, but also I looked like what I expected I’d look on less than seven hours of sleep and having eaten a bunch of salt and grease the night before. Plenty tilted the mirror more in her direction, dabbing at some more powder and I received a jolt of surprise when I saw something off reflected there.
“What the –” I started, trying to reach for the compact. I wasn’t sure what I had seen but I swore it was an older, worn-out version of my cousin. The eyes were tired, almost lifeless, and the lips thinner, the skin more crepey and ashen.
Plenty quickly dodged me and spun to get the mirror away from my grabbing hands. Some sunlight hit the shiny surface, flashing across the room, blinding me for a second.
I didn’t know where I was, all of a sudden. It was all flash and confusion. I blinked a couple times as red and purple spots dotted my vision. Then things shifted more into focus and I saw myself in the beer mirror. When I locked gazes with my reflection, I felt myself slide back into the here and now.
I looked toward Roger to see him lurch forward, his icy eyes glazed, and made an effort to hold Plenty. Startled, she tried to twist away from him, which only made him clasp her tighter.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Yeah, what are you doing?” I parroted, getting closer to the grappling duo.
“I’m going to take her away from all this,” Roger grunted.
What on earth? Is there some kind of funky magic happening here? Is it the mirror, I wondered? I made a motion to grab for it, but Plenty used her height advantage to keep it out of my reach. I shoved forward, trying to topple her and claim the compact, but she easily maneuvered away from me as Roger tried to grab her and push me away at the same time. He gave me one hard shove that sent me flying across the room, where I landed inelegantly on the couch, tumbling backwards and sending my legs flying in the air.
I quickly righted myself, angry with the two of them. He stepped in my way again, clearly perceiving me as a threat to whatever his intentions were toward Plenty. Furious, I thought of the time my father taught me how to throw a punch, after a bully had given me a fair amount of grief. I closed my hand into a fist and leveled a solid punch across Roger’s jaw.
It connected true and made a good smacking sound. He let out a yelp. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d thrown such an amazing blow or if I’d simply hit him in the spot where he’d been punched the night before – probably the latter – but his eyes lost their glassiness as he shook his head and touched his face with a look of surprise.
Plenty meanwhile darted out the door.
“Don’t you even begin to think I’m finished with you, cousin!” I bellowed after her.
Roger was starting to look more like himself – aside from the bruising on his face, I meant – and I rested a hand on his shoulder and told him to focus on me.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded. “It hurts, but I’ll be fine. Why did you do that?”
“Are you serious? Think back to five minutes ago. Do you remember what you were doing?”
He focused for a moment. “It’s kind of fuzzy. It was like a blanket was thrown over my eyes.”
“What were you thinking when I tried to pull the compact out of Plenty’s hands?”
“I wasn’t really thinking anything,” he admitted. “It felt kind of primal.” He plopped down on the couch and rested his head in his left hand, nursing his bruised face. He lifted his right hand up, raising a finger, telling me to give him a moment. I waited. “It was like … Plenty disappeared. I thought she vanished and you were there.”
“Wait? What? That makes no sense.”
“You think I don’t know that? But it was like she was there and then she wasn’t. I saw you and I saw someone coming after you and I had this caveman urge to beat off the competition.”
“That was me. I was trying to get the compact away from Plenty, and then you pushed me away. And hard.”
“I’m sorry about that. I –” he broke off, trying to find the right words.
I sat next to him and rested my hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, too, for hitting you. If it’s any consolation, I think socking you in the chin freed you from the spell.” I offered him a weak smile.
“Thanks. Good to know.” He rubbed his sore jaw and worked it. “I have to say, you throw a good punch.”
“Thanks,” I smiled.
“I’m not sure I meant it as a compliment.”
“I’m taking it as one nonetheless. Come on,” I said, standing and holding out a hand to him. “Let’s go breeze by Emily’s and get another coffee, and let her get a look at Plenty. I’d like to get her feedback on my cousin.”
“Sounds good to me.” He paused. “Is there perchance some good or pleasurable magick – maybe some mundane or non-magickal sex voodoo – you could use to release me from Plenty’s spell without punching me or drenching me in beer?”
I smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
28
A HALF HOUR later – after I’d threatened that I’d cram her compact up her backside if she dared pull it out in front of us again – Plenty, Roger and I made our way to Emily’s. After the scuffle, I needed more caffeine, and I think Roger did, too.
“Hon,” Emily said, looking at him and shaking her head. “How is it you look worse now than you did a couple hours back?” She handed him another spicy chai.
“It’s a long story,” Roger said. “Can I get a chocolate chip cookie? The biggest one you have.”
She handed him a monster of a cookie on a plate. “Fresh out of the oven, so it’ll be all nice and gooey,” she added.
He sat down and started to tuck in.
Emily then took a moment to give Plenty a once-over. She turned and poured a cup of plain black coffee and set it in front of her.
“I didn’t order yet,” Plenty complained.
“But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it, hon?”
Plenty stood still for a moment, then nodded.
“That’s what Emily is known for,” I explained. “She knows what people want before they order.”
“Oh.” Plenty was quiet, subdued. “Well, thanks.”
She began to turn in the direction of the store portion of Emily’s Eatery, but I held her back. “Plenty,” I said, “Emily likes to mix up all kinds of recipes and potions. Show her your perfume. Let’s get you an expert’s opinion.”
“But it’s not food,” Plenty said. “She’s a cook, not a perfumer.”
“Oh, hon, I mix up all kinds of things, and it’s not limited to food. Let’s have a sniff.”
Plenty gave me a pointed look. “Last night you didn’t like it.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my taste exactly, but it has a little something-something goin
g on. I want Emily’s feedback.”
Plenty opened her purse and pulled out a little vial.
“Oh, what an adorable bottle,” Emily cooed.
Plenty’s stance softened. She smiled and handed it over. “I call it Compel. I made it myself.”
Emily opened it and took a whiff, closing her eyes, then put a dab of it on her wrist and smelled again. “Interesting. It’s very sweet, isn’t it?”
Plenty nodded. “Candy perfumes are popular so I thought I’d add notes of caramel and peach. Peach kind of looks like a woman’s, um, you know, so I thought men would like that.”
Emily laughed, genuinely amused. “Well, I can’t argue with that logic. This is … really something here.”
Plenty smiled and reclaimed the bottle. “Thanks!” Her expression brightened and she flounced off to check out Emily’s wares.
When she was out of earshot I gave Emily a questioning look. “Well?”
“Compel, huh?”
I nodded.
“It’s so sickly sweet I’m compelled to get tested for diabetes just from sniffing it.”
I smiled. “That’s what I thought. It smells too sweet, and it’s got some kind of peach schnapps vibe and something else. Do you think it lives up to its name?”
Emily shook her head. “No, there’s no magic there. It’s all weak tea. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yourself.”
“I think I needed a neutral third party to rule on it.”
“I suppose. Sometimes when you’re too close to the problem it can get harder to troubleshoot.”
“That would mean that compact she’s fond of is most likely imbued with the magic.” I proceeded to recap what had taken place at Tony’s trailer.
“So Roger thought he saw you?” Emily mused.
“That’s what got your attention?”
“It’s a deep compliment. He was bamboozled for a moment, but he still thought he was going after you. I think your cousin wanted a spell to make men find her desirable, but she somehow botched it so when they are enchanted they see her as who or what they find most desirable. It’s troubling, yes, but at least pertaining to Roger it’s also kind of sweet, at least in its weird way.”
“I guess so. I was more concerned with the part about the haggard mirror version of Plenty, however.”
“Yes,” Emily tapped her chin as she thought things over. “That is problematic. That means she’s somehow latched onto some dark magic.”
“How dark are we talking here?”
“I can’t say with complete certainty. But whatever she dredged up, the mirror is reflecting it.”
“Do you think destroying it would be the best bet?”
“It would solve the problem for the rest of us, but depending on what she’s done, it could backfire on Plenty. The injuries she’s inflicted while using that mirror could rebound and injure her in the real world. Kind of like in The Picture of Dorian Gray.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it surely doesn’t,” Emily agreed. “I’d make an effort to get that mirror away from her so she can’t use it. Maybe hide it or bury it.”
“She’s not going to like that.”
“I doubt she’s going to be happy with much of anything for a good long while.”
29
THAT NIGHT I took a long soak in my tub, pouring in plenty of lavender and sea salts to counter the stress and fatigue of a crazy twenty-four hours.
Both cats were happy to have me home. Neither was shy of water, so they sat on the edge of the tub, occasionally tentatively dipping paws at the wetness. Both were surprised and delighted to discover a giant water dish before them, but closer inspections – and the discovery of the lavender smell – deterred them from sampling the tub’s contents.
I was half asleep when I heard a vigorous knocking on the door. I bolted up, sending water sloshing onto the bathroom floor. Fido and Puck scurried off when the wave landed too close for comfort, and I unplugged the drain and wrapped myself in a robe, making my way downstairs to see who it could be.
I was hoping for Roger. Or Trish. Or even my ex Scott with his new girlfriend Amber. Anyone but Plenty.
It was Plenty.
Great.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself, pondering when she turned the corner from fun to exhausting. Was I getting old, or were her obsessions?
I yanked the door open. “What do you want?”
She breezed in and seated herself on my sofa. “Poppy. Hi.” She looked around, darting her eyes toward the kitchen. “Do you have any wine?”
“I’m fresh out.”
“Oh. Are you sure? I thought I saw some the other day when I was here.”
“Mom drank most of what I had at dinner the other night. The rest, I drank it before my bath.” I was lying, but she didn’t need to know that. If she got some booze into her I feared she’d never leave, and tonight I wasn’t feeling sociable.
She sighed heavily and leaned back into the couch.
“I had a question, and I was hoping you could help.”
“Okay. What is it?”
She sprang up and darted into the dining room, flipping on the overhead light above the table. She stood directly under it and motioned me over.
“What’s wrong?”
“Look me over. Closely.”
I made my way to her and looked her up and down. “What am I looking for?”
“Anything … anything that may be … off.”
“Off what?”
“Just, is anything off?”
“I don’t see anything that I would describe as off.”
“Nothing? Nothing weird? Strange? Do I look like I did yesterday?”
“Why are you worried about that?”
“I was just wondering.” She paused for a moment like she was looking for an excuse. “I think the water here is weird. It’s too hard or soft or whatever.”
“So you’re saying you think your hair is falling flat when you wash it here or something like that?” I gave her a closer look. “You look fine to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You look the same as ever, except you seem worried about something. What’s up?”
“Maybe I’m just out of sorts being away from home.”
“Maybe, but you seem more than just feeling out of sorts. Did you try some magic that isn’t working like you hoped it would?”
She averted her gaze, which told me all I needed to know.
“Have you tried something?”
She started fidgeting, playing with her fingernails. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled.
“Since you’ve landed in town, chaos seems to follow among the men folk.”
“Maybe I’m just pretty.”
“Of course, you are,” I agreed, “but the boys are going crazy for you on a whole other level. That’s what has me wondering.”
“Wondering what?”
“If you’ve dabbled...” I was about to argue and throw a couple insults her way when I saw my father’s ghost materialize behind Plenty. He usually didn’t pop in at my house, so he must have had something important to divulge.
“You know what,” I said, buying time, “I think I do have some wine on hand. How about we crack open a bottle?”
“Sure,” Plenty agreed.
While I uncorked and poured two glasses, my father drifted over. I raised an eyebrow in his direction to let him know I was listening.
“Poppy,” he began, “I know you want to argue with the girl – you take after your mother in that way – but it’s no use. I have one piece of advice for this situation: You can catch more flies with sugar.”
“That’s all you’ve got for me?”
“What was that?” Plenty looked in my direction. “Did you say something?”
I shook my head. “Um, no. I just was muttering to myself. I hoped I had some other kind of wine. I was all like, ‘That’s all I have?’”
I darted
my eyes back toward where I’d seen my father last. He pointed to a canister on my countertop, one labeled ‘sugar,’ and gave me a curt nod before winking out of sight.
“You were asking me something about dabbling?” Plenty asked as she took a swallow of wine.
“Ah, yes. I’m just curious. If you’ve done a spell that gets men’s attention, well, who wouldn’t want to replicate that?”
Clearly that wasn’t what she expected. She relaxed at the flattery and I saw a potential opening.
I pulled out the glamouring book and started flipping through it. “So, did you see anything interesting in here the other day?” I tried to keep my voice even, casual.
“It’s an interesting topic is all.” Her attempt to sound cool told me she still was a bit cautious.
“It is,” I agreed. “Sometimes I have wondered what it would be like to look like someone else, but the spells in here seem too complicated. I’d be scared I’d mess something up.”
“Would you really want to look like someone else?” Plenty asked, holding her wineglass to her lips. She took a generous sip and I parroted her action, then topped off both of our glasses.
“This is good wine, isn’t it?” I asked, taking another drink. “It’s called Meritage – some blend of reds. I ran into some connoisseur at the market and he went on and on about this. I thought he was maybe blowing smoke up my skirt, but his advice was good.” I took another swallow and slid my gaze to my cousin. I was hoping my nattering would relax her and loosen her tongue.
“It is,” Plenty agreed. “But back to my question: Would you want to look like someone else?”
“For a few hours, sure. What would it be like to be tall and blonde and leggy, or to walk around as a man and see if I got treated with more respect or authority. That’s normal to wonder about those sorts of things, isn’t it?”
“Sure. So why haven’t you tried it?” She drew her legs underneath her and gave me a pointed look. “You seriously never did this or anything like this before?”
“No. Like I said, it looks complicated. You know I’m not someone who’s big on following some recipe that takes endless steps – stirring a cauldron counter-clockwise nine times, or crushing some herb instead of smashing it. I’d be tempted to improvise or skip a step or substitute an ingredient, and then I’d end up looking like a garden gnome or something.”
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