Playing With Fury

by Annabel Chase

  Corinne tugged on the end of her dark braid in a nervous gesture. “I mean really late. Like two a.m. and I know it isn’t because she has a date.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because then she wouldn’t come home at all.”

  Ah. That fit the profile.

  Corinne flicked her braid away. “It’s also the regularity of it. She’s coming and going at the same time, as though she’s punching a clock. She told me she’s going home to get ready for a date, but I think it’s a lie. This is the same routine as a couple nights ago.”

  “Is it possible she got a side job?” Rosalie was a natural hustler. She’d pick up ten jobs if they paid enough to tempt her.

  “I doubt it.”

  “You haven’t asked her or followed her?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Part of me doesn’t want to know. It can’t be anything good at that hour, right?”

  “And you think she’s heading there later tonight?”

  “If the pattern holds.” Corinne gripped the edge of the table. “Whatever you find, please don’t tell her I said anything. She’ll never forgive me.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Corinne and I had similar relationships to our mothers and I knew the high cost of causing drama. “Can we get started on a spell? Not that I enjoy my own reflection the way my mother does, but it would be nice to see my face again.”

  “I’m sure the chief feels the same.” Corinne winked.

  The bell above the door tinkled again.

  “I came as quickly as I could.” Adele strode into the coffee shop with a bag hoisted over each shoulder. “I have everything we need.”

  “I’m glad somebody’s got a handle on the situation,” I said.

  Adele set the bags on the counter and began emptying the contents. “I can’t promise to undo whatever’s been done to you, but we should be able to determine whether it’s an active spell.”

  I glanced at a container labeled ‘snake’s tongue.’ “I don’t need to ingest any of this, do I?”

  “No,” Adele said. “It’s an ointment we need to rub on your bare skin.”

  I shuddered. What did I do to deserve this?

  Corinne laughed. “She’s kidding.” She paused. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Adele placed the empty bags on the floor. “I am.”

  Corinne frowned at the peppermint and lavender stalks. “We’re making smudge sticks?”

  Adele picked up a pair of scissors and started snipping sections of string. “That we are, ma cheri. If there’s a spell at work, we’re going to smoke it out.”

  “I’d better turn off the smoke detectors,” Corinne said. “We don’t need the fire company showing up.”

  “Now see, that’s where you and my mother differ,” I said.

  Corinne went to disable the smoke alarms while I helped Adele with the preparations.

  “You don’t have to burn me, do you?” I asked.

  Adele remained fixated on her task. “Eden, we’re witches. The last thing we’d ever do is burn a woman to get to the truth.”

  “Fair point.”

  Once Corinne returned, I observed grandmother and granddaughter working in tandem. There was a sense of harmony to their movements. Their connection to each other was palpable. I tried to picture myself in Corinne’s shoes, working alongside my own grandmother, but the image refused to materialize. Grandma and I rarely worked toward the same goal and were at odds more often than not.

  “We don’t need to wait for the smudge sticks to dry before we use them?” I asked.

  “Not the way I do them,” Adele said. She gestured for me to move to the center of the room.

  “How will you know where I am?” I asked.

  “You’re not a ghost,” Adele said. “We can touch you.”

  The witches moved to stand on either side of me with a smudge stick in each hand.

  “Exardesco,” Adele said, and the smudge sticks began to burn.

  Instinctively, I tried to shrink away from them, but there seemed to be a stick attacking me at every turn. One got lodged in my ear and another almost got shoved up my nose.

  “I’m glad I can’t see my reflection,” I said. “This is like Ash Wednesday on steroids.”

  Corinne lowered her arms. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “Wait.” Adele’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Do you see that?”

  “No,” I said glumly.

  “Yes,” Corinne said, brightening. “There’s a purplish haze around you.”

  Adele fixated on the haze. “It’s so dark, it almost looks black.”

  “And?” I prodded.

  “And that means there’s a spell on you,” Adele said, lowering her smudge sticks. “We’ve smoked it out.”

  Not a fury trait then. That was a relief.

  “So it’s gone? Doesn’t that mean I should be visible now?”

  “No, we smoked out its existence. We haven’t reversed it,” Adele explained.

  I didn’t bother to disguise my disappointment. No one could see it anyway.

  “What now?” I asked.

  Adele studied the haze around me. “I don’t recognize the signature.”

  “Do you recognize the type of magic?” I asked.

  “It isn’t black magic,” Adele said. “That’s all I can tell you.”

  I gave her a hopeful look. “Does that mean you can undo it?”

  Adele pressed her lips together. “Your best bet is to find out who did this to you and go from there.”

  “I doubt whoever did this to me will be eager to undo it.”

  “Maybe not, but the more information we have about the magic used, the better our chances of reversing it,” Adele said.

  My jaw set in grim determination. “I’ll find out.”

  Or else I’d die trying.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I waited in front of the LeRoux house for Rosalie to emerge. No need to hide behind a tree in my current state. I lingered on the sidewalk and texted Sawyer to let him know I’d helped his aunt escape danger twice in one evening.

  Now I feel guilty for letting her go out without supervision, he wrote.

  She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need the chief of police stalking her.

  Maybe I should text her and make sure she’s okay.

  I was sorry I mentioned the earlier encounters. I didn’t want him to needlessly worry.

  She’s fine. Crisis averted, I texted.

  The front door opened and Rosalie stepped outside wearing black leather pants, a sparkly silver top, and large hoop earrings. For someone not on a date, she certainly looked like she was on the prowl.

  Back on duty, I wrote.

  Stay safe, he wrote, punctuated by the poop emoji.

  I smiled. Am I in danger of encountering a poop demon?

  I recommend carrying a can of Lysol spray. You don’t want to smell like work when you get home.

  Rosalie started her car and backed out of the driveway.

  Seriously though. What’s the deal with the poop emoji?

  Accident.

  What? You had an accident? Although it was hard to see the chief in an unsexy light, this might do the trick.

  No! I hit the emoji by accident.

  Which one did you mean to hit?

  The smiley one with the cowboy hat.

  I snorted. Liar.

  Fine. The heart.

  Which color?

  A plump red heart appeared on my screen and I swooned. I didn’t even realize I was capable of swooning until that moment. I’d watched plenty of movies where swooning was involved—Gone With the Wind, Grease, Dirty Dancing—but this was the first time that I, Eden Joy Fury, actually swooned.

  It was nice.

  I tucked my phone away, my heart hammering with joy and excitement. This was better than when Tanner asked me out for the first time. Better than when he told me he loved me. We were teenagers. This thing with Sawyer Fox was real. It had legs, as my father would s
ay, as long as my family didn’t get wind of it.

  I took to the air and circled above the neighborhood until I spotted Rosalie’s car. It helped that I’d marked the roof with a giant X in white chalk. The next rainfall would wash it away and I was the only one with an aerial view of it.

  The white X traveled across town and turned down a side street that ran perpendicular to the bay. She parked on a lonely stretch and hurried down a narrow alley.

  I dropped to the ground and stood within earshot as Rosalie approached the bouncer. He was a heavyset man with a bald head and a goatee. Was this some kind of secret supernatural speakeasy where you can only gain admittance if you know the password?

  “You’re here to cause trouble again?” the bouncer asked, smiling.

  “You know me, Ronnie. I can’t stay away.”

  “Do us all a favor and go easy tonight,” Ronnie said. “The boss doesn’t want to clean up your mess.”

  Rosalie winked. “Anything for you.” She sashayed past him and down three concrete steps. I rushed to follow her in case there was a ward in place.

  The underground space was nicely decorated with lights strung across the walls and ceiling and a giant upside-down cauldron serving as a bespoke chandelier. The room was a reasonable size with about twenty-five tables arranged in front of a small stage. A bar was on the left surrounded by a dozen patrons drinking and talking. A unisex restroom door was to my right. The tables were about three-quarters full. A cursory glance told me that everyone here was a supernatural.

  Rosalie greeted a couple at a nearby table before heading to the bar. I wondered whether she was meeting someone.

  “Grey Goose and tonic,” Rosalie said.

  The bartender smiled. “No tequila tonight?”

  “No more this month,” she said. “I overdid it last time.”

  “No kidding,” the bartender said. “The place was in shambles. The boss was none-too-pleased.”

  “Oh, stop,” Rosalie said with the wave of her hand. “He loved every second of it.”

  She left the place in shambles and they welcomed her back? What was going on?

  “She’ll be out in a minute,” the bartender said. “You might want to grab a seat now.” He slid the glass across the counter. “Have fun.”

  “Thanks, doll.” Rosalie sipped her drink and eyed the stage. “Start me a tab, would you?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Rosalie greeted a few other patrons on her way to a table for two. The table had a partially blocked view of the stage, which was probably why it was still available.

  What was she up to? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. If she were hatching a scheme or meeting a co-conspirator, though, wouldn’t it make more sense to meet in a smoky back room? That was how it was done in all the gangster movies I’d seen. Then again, Rosalie had a spirit of adventure and a penchant for trouble. If she was responsible for my invisibility, it was likely for no other purpose than to prank me.

  I slid into the chair across from her. She set her purse on the table and savored her drink. Her eyes were riveted to the stage. If someone was joining her, she didn’t seem bothered whether they showed up.

  I debated my options. Maybe I could get a confession out of her before the performance began and avoid whatever jazz band was about to burst my eardrums. I hated jazz the way old men hated people on their lawn.

  “Good evening, Rosalie,” I said.

  The witch jumped in her seat. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Eden.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you invisible?”

  “You don’t know?” I asked.

  “Know what? That you can turn invisible? Honey, I’m aware of your talents. I just don’t know why you’re using them now.” Her expression brightened. “Oh, wait. I do get it. Your family sent you, didn’t they? They want to settle the score.”

  “Settle what score?”

  Rosalie reached forward to touch me and hit my shoulder.

  “Why does everybody do that?” I complained. At least it wasn’t my boob this time.

  “Why are you skulking around here?” Rosalie asked.

  “I’m investigating.”

  “I thought you knew about this place,” she said.

  “Why would I?”

  “I’ve been coming here twice a week for a few weeks now,” Rosalie said. “The first time was completely out of boredom, but it quickly piqued my interest.”

  “Because you met a new partner in crime? Is it the owner?”

  “Oh, I’ve made a lot of new friends,” she said. “But that’s not why I keep coming back.”

  The lights dimmed and the crowd began to clap.

  The witch shushed me. “You need to hush now. This is the whole reason I come here.”

  I glanced around the room. There was no sign of any partner in crime. Rosalie was intent on the stage. “I don’t…” My eyes bulged when I noticed the familiar woman taking the stage. She’d styled her hair and put on a tasteful black dress, but there was no disguising her.

  “Grandma?” I whispered.

  Rosalie’s glossy red lips peeled into a smile. “Surprised?”

  “This is why you come here? To watch Grandma?” Watch her do what exactly? Grandma couldn’t carry a tune and she didn’t play any instruments.

  “It’s worth every penny,” Rosalie said.

  “I don’t understand. Why would you come to support my grandmother?” My family and the LeRoux witches were like oil and water. They avoided each other at all costs.

  “Support her?” Rosalie tossed her head back and laughed. “No, you sweet fool. I come to heckle her. I make sure to hide until her turn. Once she’s up there, it’s too late to do anything about my presence.” She shrugged. “The show must go on.”

  I tried to wrap my head around the situation. “What’s her act?”

  Rosalie wiggled her eyebrows. “Listen up and find out.”

  Grandma shuffled the length of the stage, holding the microphone. “So you all came back, huh? I thought I might’ve scared you away last time.”

  The crowd clapped and cheered.

  “Now you sound like the line of men outside my daughter’s bedroom. Whenever one comes out, the rest get excited.” She paused. “Well, let’s face it. They’re already excited. They all stand at attention whenever I walk down the hall. Or should I say all of them stands at attention. I considered installing a revolving door…”

  Rosalie leaned forward. “I bet you weren’t expecting this.”

  My jaw was too unhinged to reply. Grandma was riffing about my mother’s sex life on a stage in front of strangers? What fresh hell was this?

  “It’s tough being supernatural in a town full of humans, isn’t it?” Grandma continued.

  The crowd clapped and whistled in solidarity.

  “Everyone says to be yourself, but they don’t mean it. If you’re a witch, they want you to be a good witch. The kind that sparkles. As a matter of fact, if you’re a vampire, they want you to sparkle too. To be the kind of vampire that falls in love with a dull-as-dishwater seventeen-year-old girl because she smells nice.” She brought the microphone closer to her mouth. “I’ve got news for you. If you smell intoxicatingly good to a vampire, you’ve either been attacked by a shark or you have your period. Or both.”

  The crowd roared with laughter. Even Rosalie seemed to have momentarily forgotten she was here to heckle.

  I texted Chief Fox. You’re never going to believe where I am.

  His response was immediate. I hope the answer is with Aunt Wili. She isn’t home yet and she hasn’t replied to my text.

  Probably because she’s having a good time. It had to be slightly awkward for both of them. The chief didn’t want to know the details of his aunt’s romantic life and she didn’t want to share them.

  “I’d be perfectly content to throw on a black hat and pointy shoes and fly around town on a broomstick, but noooo.” Grandma leaned back as though horrified by her own suggestion.
“We can’t upset the delicate balance. We have to let the humans think they’re in charge. That they’re safe.”

  “Nobody’s safe around you,” Rosalie yelled.

  Grandma looked at her. “Least of all you. I thought you would’ve learned your lesson last time, but I can see you’re back for more. That’s messed up, Rosalie. Are you sure you’re not human?” She paused for breath. “They’re completely messed up. They worry about getting eaten by zombies, when they should really be more worried about how they’re going to fund their retirement. That’s the scarier prospect.” She shook her head. “I don’t worry about zombies wanting to eat me. I’m a comedian. I taste funny.”

  “How long has she been doing this?” I whispered to Rosalie.

  “She started not long after this place opened. I was pretty shocked the first time. She did a few jokes about your family and, naturally, I was hooked.”

  “I dated a vampire once,” Grandma continued. “Vlad. He was a real pain in the neck. I wasn’t a fan of getting clean afterward, either.” She paused for a beat. “It was a real bloodbath.”

  The audience laughed.

  “Anyway, Vlad broke up with me because he said I was too angry all the time. He didn’t like it when I flew off the handle.”

  Rosalie cupped her hands around her mouth and booed.

  I swatted her arm. “What’s wrong with you? That’s like waving a red flag in front of a minotaur.”

  It suddenly occurred to me why the place was in shambles last time. Rosalie must’ve heckled Grandma until it ended in a magical, crowd-pleasing showdown.

  “What time’s the comedian starting?” Rosalie yelled. “I have somewhere to be.”

  Grandma stood in the center of the stage, ignoring her. “My granddaughter is a real piece of work. She acts like she doesn’t need anybody, like Elsa in Frozen. Let me tell you, she is one cold-hearted girl.”

  “How cold is she?” the audience yelled.

  “She’s so cold that when a vampire sinks his fangs into her, he gets frostbite.”

  Rosalie snorted. “Your turn.”

  “I don’t want a turn.”

  For the remaining twenty minutes of her set, I completely forgot the reason I was here. I listened to Grandma mock my father and Sally. Aunt Thora’s obsession with lemons. The fact that I live in a barn. The crowd lapped it up.