An Imperfect Witch (8 page)

“Yeah.”  Shay grinned, innocent and sunny child again.  She bounded out of Nell’s arms and then stopped mid-bounce, eyes caught by Lizard’s dress one more time.  She regarded it carefully, head tilted to the side.  “You know, it kind of looks like a wedding dress.”

It took a valiant effort for Nell to hold in the spluttering laughter.  She grabbed Shay in a tackle from behind and mashed a kiss into the giggling, protesting cheek.  “You might not mention that to Lizard, child of mine.”

Shay squirmed out of the mama hug and backed away, eyes bright with laughter. 

Nell left before Shay joined forces with her sisters.  Sometimes, it was better not to know.

-o0o-

Lizard walked back up the sidewalk to the little 1920s cottage, ignoring the wild beauty of the setting sun.  She was alone this time, although it had taken a minor act of God to discourage Helga from helping with the evening’s ghost hunting.  Being pretty sure there wasn’t any danger was a whole lot different than letting a little old lady tag along.

They’d found clues—a candy wrapper in a closet, an oddly clean sink, and a footprint, no bigger than Helga’s, in the dirt outside the back door.

A stowaway of sorts, and probably a young one.  And smart—the lockbox app showed regular entry into the house after dark.  With the freaking front door key.  Last entry, thirty minutes ago.

Lizard knew what it was to seek safety in quiet places.  And to run at the first sign of trouble.  She let herself in the front door—she’d already detoured to lock the back one.  Time to have a chat with a very corporeal ghost.

She marched into the living room and pitched her voice.  “Yo.  Anybody home?”

Nothing.

“Not the cops, and you’re not in trouble.  Yet.  But I know you’ve been letting yourself into the house, and I have to report that.  Show your face, and maybe I change my mind.”  Not a chance in hell she was reporting it, but she couldn’t let it keep happening, either.  “You have five minutes.”

It took four-and-a-half for footsteps to sound on the stairs.

Lizard saw the grungy Keds first.  And then the even grungier jeans.  She prepared herself for street kid.

The rest of the ghost came around the banister, grungy jeans topped by an ancient, shapeless hoodie.  And eyes that held a single message.  Defiance.

Dark eyes stared out from a face that was far cleaner than the jeans.  And a haircut that had been done by real scissors in the hands of someone who knew how to use them.  Frowning, Lizard took stock.  The outer layer of clothes was grunge, but the T-shirt underneath was clean.  The phone in the stowaway’s hands was an iPhone 5.  And the eyes were way too direct to have lived long on the streets.

Contradictions. 

“I’m Lizard Monroe, friendly neighborhood real estate agent.  Who are you?”

A single raised eyebrow.

Lizard sighed—she wouldn’t have answered that one either.  “Got a street name?”

Nothing.

“Look, you can talk to me, or you can talk to some shithead who passes for a cop.”  She had a better relationship with law enforcement these days, but this wasn’t the time for police community relations.

The girl’s eyes flashed in disgust.  “Squeak.”

Lizard scowled.  “That’s a dumb name.”

Squeak snorted.  “Says a girl named after a reptile?”

There was a world of difference—and Lizard was finally smart enough to know what it was.  “I like my name.  You don’t.”

Truth hid under a thick layer of scorn, but it was there.  “Street names don’t matter.”

The hell they didn’t.  “Then it won’t matter if you pick one that doesn’t make you want to puke.”

“Fine.”  Something odd came to life in the teenager’s mind.  “You can call me Raven, then.”

Lizard had no idea where the name had come from or why it mattered.  But it did, and that was progress.  “Will do.  Want some noodles?  I know a place.”  Romano never blinked at riffraff in his restaurant—he was very cool like that.  And Berkeley Realty was possibly his best customer.

“Why?”  Suspicion was back, all eighty pounds of it.  “What’s in it for you?  You one of those do-gooders or something?”

Lizard nearly swallowed her tongue.  She reached out and snagged Raven’s phone.  “Insult me again, and I drop this down a street grate.”  It probably didn’t belong to the girl anyhow, but they were both going to ignore that. 

The insult seemed to steady her prickly companion some.

“I’m hungry and I haven’t figured out what to do with you yet.  So I’m eating, and I figure you’re not dumb enough to turn down free food.”

Raven’s scowl deepened.  “Give me back my phone first.”

“Not a chance.”  And it was time to end the bullshit before they were both drowning in it.  Lizard took off her lightweight cardi, stuffed it in her bag, and headed toward the door.  She waited until she was darn sure the girl had caught a good look at her tattoos.  “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Some of the mental scowl had been replaced by curiosity.  “Nice tats.  Where’d you get them?”  Raven walked out the front door and down the porch steps, keeping her distance.

Lizard locked up, well aware it made nerves jangle behind her.  “I’ll answer that right after you start dealing with me straight.  How come you’re hanging out in empty houses?”

No answer.  Just a stray kick at an innocent dandelion that had dared to reach up through a crack in the sidewalk.

The part of Lizard Monroe that had a deep soft spot for yellow weeds and scared teenagers took a hard hit.  “Better than the alternatives, huh?”  Not so long ago, she’d have thought Raven’s gig was brilliant.  Space, clean showers, a working stove, and nobody to bug you except for the occasional tour.  “How you’d you get your hands on a lockbox app?” 

Disdain—and under it, shame.

The second bothered Lizard way more than she wanted to admit.  The stench of familiar.  “You hack it?”

Raven looked surprised—clearly that possibility had never crossed her mind.  “What, you think I’m some kind of geek?  Not a chance.”

Too bad.  Witch Central assimilated geeks particularly well.  And if the girl wasn’t a hacker, that didn’t leave a lot of other possibilities.  “Borrowed the phone, huh?”  Hopefully from an idiot agent.  Lizard had a couple she would have gladly nominated.

Raven snorted.  “I don’t borrow shit—I steal it.  Easier that way.”

Lizard sighed, well aware she was enjoying this way too much.  Echoes of a certain conversation with a very tired parole officer.

Her own phone vibrated to life in her pocket.  Shit.  She glanced at the screen.  Melissa Cohen. 
I need to speak with you urgently. 
Crap.  Not freaking now.  Lizard looked up long enough to tell Raven not to move.

And discovered empty sidewalk.

Chapter 7

She shouldn’t be the one asking for favors.

Lizard slunk down the alleyway to Trinity’s basement hole-in-the-wall, frustrated and embarrassed and seriously pissed off that she was making this particular walk at all.  But she needed help, and this was one job Witch Central didn’t know how to do.

They didn’t know the streets.

It took a minute for a head to stick out the metal door.  Dark eyes looked her up and down.  “It isn’t Saturday.  And you don’t have noodles.”

No, she bleeping well didn’t.  “I lost someone.  And I need help finding her.”

Trinity snorted.  “Check the mall.  Or the library.  Or wherever it is cute little things like you hang out.”

“Call me cute again and I’ll spike your noodles with junk to give you pimples the size of dump trucks.”

“You in a bad mood tonight, mini?”  Something approaching concern now.

Lizard bit back the smart-ass reply.  “I found a girl hanging out in empty houses for sale.  Busted her, and then she split, and I need to find her before she gets into real crap.  Fifteen, sixteen maybe.”  Exactly the type the darker side of Berkeley would gobble as an appetizer.

“You sure she’s hit the streets?”  Trinity’s voice was loaded with disdain.  “New kids don’t last long.”

Which was exactly why the street tough had a soft spot in her heart for them—and why Lizard had come to find her.  “I know.  I don’t think she made it as far as the streets.”  Raven wasn’t broken enough for that.  Living on the edge, just like Lizard had always done, but not over it.

Until a stupid realtor had spooked her.

“What’s she look like?”  Trinity snapped her fingers in front of Lizard’s face.  “Your missing kid.  Time’s ticking, noodle lady.  Gonna be deep dark before much longer.  New kids don’t know shit about the dark.”

Fear grabbed a new fistful of Lizard’s insides.  “Small, like me.  Dark hair, big attitude.”

“We all got attitudes, sister.  Hers just smells shiny and new.”

Not for long.  Lizard tried to think—panicking wasn’t going to help anyone.  “She’s smart.  Thinks.”

“Yeah.  That house gig was a damn good idea.”  Trinity looked thoughtful.

Just what she needed.  “It would have landed her ass in juvie.”

“If she got caught.  Which she did.”  The street-wise girl shrugged.  “Not so smart, then.”

Hard to hide from a witch.  “Blue hoodie, grungy jeans.  And she had this bag.”  Lizard tried to pull Raven’s gear up in her head—she’d only seen the bag for a few seconds.  “Big, ugly, Dr. Who logo.  One of those phone-booth things.”

“A Tardis, girl—where you been?”  Trinity shook her head.  “That’ll work.  Peeps will be wanting a piece of that, so they’ll remember her.”

Acid burned up Lizard’s throat.  “She’ll be hungry—she skipped out on food.”

“Amateur.”  Trinity shook her head a second time and then stuck it back in her digs.  “Yo, people.  We gotta find a runner.  Mini like noodle lady here, dark hair, hoodie, carrying a Tardis bag.  New, so look in all the dumb places.”  She pulled her head back out and eyed Lizard.  “You offering a reward?”

Her next month’s paycheck.  “Yeah.  I won’t puke on your shoes if you find her.”

Trinity smirked.  “Good enough.”

Shadows made their way out of the opening.  Kids who knew how to blend.

Lizard turned to go.  She knew some places to check.

A hand on her arm stopped her.  “You go home.”

Fury boiled under Lizard’s ribs.  “I know the streets well enough.”

“You did.”  Dark eyes met hers steadily—and dark fingers traced the bracelet on her wrist.  “But you’re different now.  You let stuff get to you.  And I’m sure as shit not sending out a search party for two minis.”

“I’m tougher than I look.”  And it mattered right now, for some reason she couldn’t fathom.  “And so’s Raven.”

“That’s good.”  Something that was almost respect eased into Trinity’s eyes.  “Gives me some places to start looking.”

Lizard followed her down the alleyway, totally at sea.  “Where’s that?”

“Go home, sister—you’ll just slow me down.  And kiss that sexy man for me.”  Trinity turned, eyes fierce.  “You have a home to go to.  That makes you strong, and that girl’s gonna need you strong.  I’ll find her.  You figure out how to keep her the hell off my streets.”

-o0o-

“I’m gonna squish you into little itty-bitty smooshie stuff and feed you to the fishies!”

“Nuh, uh.  Not if I eat your toes first.”

“MonsterZilla toes will make your tummy burp purple bubbles, evil Darth.  ROOOAAARRR!”

Lauren listened as her husband let out an enormous burp and dissolved himself and his pint-sized playmate into storms of laughter.  There were very few adults in the world as capable of outrageous silliness as Devin Sullivan.

And not too many who could burp that loudly, either.

She was sitting on her couch, laptop under her fingers, ostensibly putting together showings lists for the following day.  Instead, lightly mindlinked to both of the cottage’s other inhabitants, she was swept up in the joy of big man and small boy wreaking late-evening living-room havoc together.

It had started very casually, these visits of one child at a time.  And somewhere along the way, they’d all fallen in love with them.  They’d learned not to plan anything special.  Given half a chance, special happened entirely on its own. 

Devin looked up from the floor, grinning, well aware she’d given up on her work.  And eyed the naked toes sticking out the other end of her lap quilt.  He nudged his playmate.  “I spy more toes for the eating, MonsterZilla.  You can have the big two—I’ll take all the little ones.”

Two marauding villains dive-bombed her toes, carefully not squishing the sleeping cat.  Fuzzball was monsterproof. 

Her toes, not so much.

Lauren jumped off the couch, depositing her laptop out of harm’s way and grabbing an innocent potted plant.  “Be gone, monsters.  I stop you with the power of my mighty defender tree.” 

Aervyn swung his monster head at the plant.

Lauren hoped MonsterZilla wasn’t a vegetarian.  And then dove for the floor, squealing, as something wet and cold touched her toes.

Devin snickered, water tickle spell still sitting on his palm.

Aervyn zapped it with something hot and sizzly.  “No fair, evil Darth.”  He sidled up to the potted plant, still miraculously in one piece, and grinned at Lauren.  “Let’s get him, Tree Warrior!”