Anton shook his head, laughing. “Calm down, Eden. Nothing happened.”
“Not yet, but only because there are so many glorious revenge packages to contemplate.”
He leaned against the car with his arms folded. “And which one did she choose?”
“None, but you told her to call you…”
“She won’t.”
Something in his expression gave me pause. “Why not?”
His shoulders sagged. “Because I’ve done this many, many times now, Eden, and they never call. Most of the time, they only want someone to listen to them. To understand and empathize with their pain and suffering. Once they feel heard, they calm down and move on. I like to think of myself as more of an armchair therapist than a vengeance demon.”
I stared at my brother in disbelief. “You really just listen to their tales of woe?”
He nodded. “Once they pour out their emotions and hear what vengeance sounds like out loud in the harsh light of day, they tend to change their minds. Geena’s reaction is pretty typical.”
“She didn’t kick you out and call you a monster, so the jury’s still out on her.”
Anton chuckled. “Eden, when will you learn that the world isn’t as black and white as you want it to be? Geena didn’t do anything wrong. Having feelings and acting on them are two different things. As far as I’m concerned, I helped her choose the right path.”
I thought of how angry I felt on Sassy’s behalf and of my own heartache. We’d both needed outlets for our pain. Sassy sang Celine Dion songs and I…I ran away.
“What if something horrible happened to someone you love?” Anton asked. “I know there’s no one special to trigger those powerful emotions now, but someday there might be.”
I tried to imagine how I’d feel if anything bad ever happened to the chief and my blood instantly began to boil.
“You’re right,” I said. “Someday there might be.”
“So we’re good?” Anton squinted. “I can’t tell when I can’t see whether that vein in your forehead is protruding.”
I instinctively touched the spot on my forehead. “I believe you. We’re good.”
“Why did you follow me here anyway?” he asked.
Under the circumstances, I’d completely forgotten. “I wanted to vent about Mom and Grandma and their insatiable need to murder each other. What else?”
And Geena thought her family wasn’t picture-perfect.
He inclined his head toward the car. “Step into my office. You can complain on the way home.”
“You don’t mind?”
“You’re my sister, Eden. How could I mind?” Anton slid into the driver’s seat and rested his hands on the steering wheel. “You have my full attention for the next fifteen minutes. The armchair therapist is officially in.”
Chapter Ten
I brushed my teeth at the bathroom sink, ready to put the long day behind me.
“Eden, where are you?” Alice called.
I poked my head through the bathroom doorway. “Almost done.” I rinsed my mouth one more time and entered the bedroom. “Where’ve you been all day? I didn’t see you.”
“And I don’t see you now.” Alice drifted around the room, confusion etched across her faded features.
“Oh, right. Because I’m invisible.” I folded back the covers and climbed into bed.
“May I ask why?”
“You may ask, but I don’t have an answer. Grandma thinks it’s a glitch. I might be back to normal tomorrow. Who knows?” I fluffed the pillow and made myself comfortable. I was grateful to be in a proper bed again and not on a mattress on the floor of my mother’s attic.
“A glitch?” Alice asked. “What does that mean?”
“That my fury powers are acting up.” I tried to think of a comparison the ghost would understand. “Like a mechanical issue with a water mill. When the wheel turns but it doesn’t move the water.” Or whatever water mills were supposed to do.
“Is that even possible?”
“It’s never happened before, but I don’t see why not.”
Alice hovered at my bedside. “You seem awfully relaxed about this.”
“I’m sure it will work itself out.” I yawned and closed my eyes. “Maybe I overdid it with training and a good night’s sleep will do the trick.”
“And what if you’re wrong? What if someone triggered this glitch, as you call it, and it won’t go back to normal on its own?”
My eyes popped open. “Who would want to wreak havoc on my fury powers?”
Alice folded her arms and stared at the pillow. “Maybe they didn’t mean for you to stay invisible. Or maybe they did, hoping it would result in more fury traits.”
I bolted upright in bed. “Wait. You think my family did this to me?” The idea hadn’t occurred to me, but the theory made sense. They had motive. They resented that I had the potential for so much power but refused to indulge it. The only way they could force me to embrace my nature would be to trigger more traits against my will.
Alice drifted to the foot of the bed, her hands clasped behind her. “I wouldn’t put anything past them. You know that.”
“Did you overhear anything incriminating?” I asked.
Alice pursed her lips, thinking. “It’s possible, but I tend to ignore their conversations.”
“Teach me your ways, Obi-Wan.”
The ghost smiled. “Many years of practice.” Her pleasant expression faded. “I noticed a fresh grave in the backyard.”
“Grandma,” I said. “Mom was quick on the draw this time.”
Alice released a gentle sigh. “They take their mortality for granted.”
“Let’s just say they have entitlement issues.” I drew my knees to my chest, letting Alice’s theory marinate. “How long do they think I need to be invisible before another trait appears?” And how would they even determine that?
“I’m not sure. How has it worked the other times?”
I thought back to recent additions like my snake hair and the eternal flames in my eyes that signaled my immortality. “It wasn’t duration so much as intensity.”
“So maybe they think forcing you to stay invisible will be intense enough. Have you noticed anything else different aside from being invisible?”
“No.” I rested my chin on my knees. What if Alice was right? What if I couldn’t snap out of it on my own? “What’s it like for you?”
Alice tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re invisible to everyone except me and other ghosts,” I said. “Do you ever find that…hard?”
“I wasn’t seen much when I was alive, so not much has changed.” Although her laughter was light, there was a note of pain.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know how it was in those days. Women weren’t considered people, not the way men were. We were mere chattel.”
“But you had a good life, didn’t you?”
“All things considered, I would say so. It was worse for others, I seem to recall.”
“Even so, you were able to interact with people when you were alive. It has to wear on you now, not being able to engage people in conversation.”
Alice bit her lip. “I suppose it bothered me more in the beginning. Truth be told, I hardly remember much of my life back then.”
I shuddered. Her declaration didn’t improve my spirits. “I don’t even have the luxury of being seen by you.”
“No.” Alice sat on the edge of the bed. “But at least you’re still alive, which means there’s hope for you. Unfortunately for me, there’s no revolving door for death.”
I felt pressure in my chest. “You know, Alice. We never talk about the reason you’re still here.”
“Because we don’t know what that reason is,” she said. “Not much to talk about.”
“Is it something you’d be interested in knowing if I could find out?”
Alice patted the bedspread. “I think you have enough to deal with right now. N
o need to worry about me. I’ve been like this for over a century. I’ll cope.”
“But what if you could move on? Would you want to?” It was a topic we generally avoided, but now that the topic had been broached, I decided to press on.
Alice managed a smile. “I honestly don’t know, Eden. It’s scary to contemplate. What if this is it? What if crossing over means I cease to exist?”
My stomach clenched at the idea of Alice Wentworth disappearing forever. It was nicer to imagine she’d leave me to be reunited with loved ones on the Other Side.
“Still, you must get lonely.”
“I like it here,” Alice declared. “This was my home long before it was yours and I don’t feel inclined to live anywhere else.”
I decided not to force the issue. Alice was right. I had my own mystery to solve.
“I guess I should get some sleep,” I said, especially if I expected to get to the bottom of this tomorrow. If my family was responsible for this, I was going to need all my wits about me to override their plan.
“Good night, Eden. Pleasant dreams.”
I nestled under the covers. “Good night, Alice. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”
I shot out of bed the next morning and raced to the bathroom mirror.
No reflection.
“Alice,” I called, but she didn’t materialize. For a ghost, she seemed to keep herself occupied.
I showered and dressed in cotton shorts and a well-worn T-shirt that read Underestimate Me. That’ll Be Fun. For a fleeting moment, I considered running around naked just for the hell of it but, with my luck, I’d turn visible again in the middle of Pimento Plaza in broad daylight. The thought of Chief Fox—or even worse, Deputy Guthrie—arresting me for indecent exposure was too awful to contemplate.
Princess Buttercup whined at the door. As I let her outside, I caught sight of someone in the backyard who didn’t belong there.
I cursed under my breath. “No, no, no, Wilfrieda,” I said to myself.
She seemed to be headed toward the barn but got distracted by Aunt Thora’s lemon trees. I didn’t blame her. Who had a healthy grove of lemon trees in Maryland?
My heart skipped a beat when she wandered closer to the fresh grave where Grandma was buried. The earth was still covered over, which meant she hadn’t yet emerged from her catatonic state.
A gust of wind blew through the yard and the dirt around the grave stirred. Uh oh. Sleeping Beauty was about to rise. I had to get Wilfrieda away from there before she was scarred for life, but how could I stop her if I was invisible?
I picked up a stick, chucking it to the right of Wilfrieda, away from the site of the grave. She stopped and looked around, wearing a puzzled expression.
I threw another stick. Unfortunately this one caught the attention of Princess Buttercup, who’d been taking care of business on the other side of the barn. The hellhound rushed to retrieve the stick and I prayed she didn’t try to deliver it to me.
Wilfrieda seemed delighted by the presence of the Great Dane. “Look at you, you incredible creature. Are you out here all alone?”
Princess Buttercup dropped the stick at her feet and panted happily. Wilfrieda patted the top of her head.
“You are absolutely gorgeous. Where’s your mother? Is she home? I thought I might drop in. I wake up so early these days. Menopause will do that to you, you know.”
Princess Buttercup barked as though she understood perfectly well the trials of tribulations of middle-aged women.
“Do you want me to throw this so you can fetch it?” Wilfrieda tossed the stick and the hellhound sprinted for it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a patch of dirt shift.
Not now.
Princess Buttercup must’ve seen it, too, because she promptly dropped the stick and went to investigate.
“Have you lost interest already?” Wilfrieda asked. “I was the same way with geometry. You’ve seen one angle, you’ve seen them all.”
Between my invisibility and Grandma’s imminent resurrection, Wilfrieda couldn’t have chosen a worse time to visit me. I had to divert her attention away from the grave somehow, especially now when it looked like the cranky witch was about to climb right out of it. The chief would never forgive me if I scared the daylights out of his favorite aunt. What if she had a heart attack?
I did the only thing I could think of and let loose a shrill whistle. If I could lure her away from the grave, she might miss the critical moment.
Princess Buttercup barked at the dirt and Wilfrieda seemed torn between following the sound of the whistle and checking on Princess Buttercup.
I whistled again and called her name.
Wilfrieda turned and walked toward the barn just as Grandma’s hand broke through the earth. My heart thundered in my chest. Another hand emerged and then an arm.
Unfortunately, Princess Buttercup was not being helpful today. She barked again, drawing Wilfrieda’s attention back to the grave.
“Oh, be quiet, you mangy mutt.” The sound of Grandma’s voice echoed. There’d be no diverting Wilfrieda’s attention now.
The older woman turned, startled by Grandma’s sudden appearance. The witch was covered from head to toe in fresh dirt.
“Goodness gracious me. What happened to you?” Wilfrieda asked.
Grandma dusted off the dirt and shook it from her hair. “Gardening accident. I’m not as handy with a hoe as I used to be.”
“Do you need help?” Wilfrieda hurried over to assist her.
Grandma waved her away. “I’m fine. I just need to give someone a piece of my mind.”
There will be no giving anyone pieces of anyone, I thought. Enough is enough.
“If you’re here to convert anyone, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Grandma said.
“Oh, I’m here to see Eden. I’m Wilfrieda Ashby, Sawyer Fox’s aunt.”
Grandma narrowed her eyes. “Why would you want to see Eden?”
Wilfrieda seemed to remember our secret. “We got to talking the other night at the mayor’s party and she mentioned she lived in a converted barn. I’ve always wanted to see one.”
Grandma brushed more dirt from her hair. “Knock yourself out.” She turned abruptly and entered the house through the back door.
Wilfrieda stared after her for a moment before continuing to the barn. I didn’t know what to do. I hurried inside, leaving the door open behind me. She knocked on the door and waited.
“Eden?” she called.
I raced upstairs and yelled from my room. “Up here. I just got out of the shower.”
“Should I wait down here?” she asked.
“No, come up.” I’d stay in the bathroom until she left and pretend to be modest.
“Oh, good.” She began to climb the stairs. “I want to see the view from up here. Your contractor did an amazing job.”
“Thanks.” I hurried into the bathroom and closed the door.
“I love that painting on the wall in the great room.”
“I bought it from a local artist,” I said. I declined to expand on that statement and tell Wilfrieda about the magic paint that transported the artist to a realm of her own design.
“You have great taste, Eden.”
I stood on the other side of the bathroom door debating what to do. She wanted a tour of the barn and I was in no position to provide it.
“I hate to say this, but I’m not feeling well at the moment. I’m not sure it’s safe to leave the bathroom.” I cringed and hoped she didn’t relay this to the chief.
“Is there anything I can do? I’d be happy to stay and make you a cup of tea and toast.”
“You’re kind to offer, but I don’t want to infect you.” I leaned my head against the door. It felt strange to express vulnerability and be met with an offer of help and sympathy instead of a derisive comment.
“Maybe it was something you ate.”
“Maybe, but we shouldn’t risk it. Why don’t you give yourself the gra
nd tour?”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Well, I insist on making you a cup of tea before I go. I can’t leave you to fend for yourself, not in your condition.”
I listened to her footsteps on the staircase and opened the bathroom door. I darted to the bed and snatched my phone from the bedside table. I climbed under the covers, pulling the sheet up high enough to cover my invisible head. Then I texted the chief to let him know his aunt was making herself at home in my kitchen.
Are you still invisible?
Yes, it’s not ideal. I told her I was sick and now I’m hiding under the covers.
I’ll text her and ask her to come home and walk Achilles while I’m working.
I considered telling him about her near-miss with Grandma but decided against it. I didn’t want to worry him.
She’s really sweet. Now I know where you get it. I clutched the phone to my chest as her footsteps traveled back upstairs.
“Eden, that kitchen is amazing. All that natural light.” She sighed and I heard the clink of the cup as she set the tea on the bedside table. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”
“You might to check on your grandmother when you’re up and around. I think she might’ve hurt herself with a hoe.”
More like by a ho. “I will, thanks.”
“I was going to invite you shopping, but I can see today isn’t the day.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could. I’ll let you know when I’m feeling better.”
“Don’t hesitate to text me if you need anything,” she said. “I’m happy to help.”
Once I heard her footsteps on the stairs, I crept out of bed and carried the cup of tea to the gallery landing. I blew off the heat as I watched her leave. She stopped to straighten a couple throw pillows on her way out. Even the way she moved the pillows suggested care rather than criticism. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of supernatural I’d be now if I’d been raised by someone like Wilfrieda Ashby.
I shook my head. There was no point in fantasizing. I couldn’t change the past. I couldn’t change my family.
I took a careful sip of tea and a feeling of contentment washed over me. A spoonful of sugar really did make the medicine go down.
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