Barely Bewitched (18 page)

Chapter 29

Steve drove me to retrieve my car from the road near Macon Woods where it had been parked. I noticed that Earl’s TrailBlazer was gone. Maybe the police had impounded it for evidence? They’d no doubt also seen my car. I wondered if they’d found any signs of Incendio.

I drove by Jenna’s house, but all the lights were on and I could see shadows moving inside. Not the best time for breaking and entering. I needed those earrings, though, and I might have to go in while they were home, after they went to sleep.

Where the heck was Edie? I needed her help for such a high-risk, likely-to-get-caught proposition. I put my hand over Bryn’s shirt and pressed on the locket through the material. Still there. It felt normal to me. So, why hadn’t she come back? It looked like I was going to have to seek her out.

I drove across town to my hairdresser, Johnny’s. He’d been a big help to me last week, and he was the only one in town besides me and my family who could see Edie.

I knocked on the door and hoped he wasn’t out enjoying the pixie dust by disco-dancing or something.

“Be home,” I whispered just before the door opened. Johnny Nguyen Ho is about five feet tall, as opposed to his vampire transvestite boyfriend who’s about six and a half feet. They make a real unusual couple.

“Hi, Tammy Jo,” he said with a smile.

“Hey there. How’s your cold from last week?”

“Oh, it better now. Come in. How are you?”

“Great. Well, no, I shouldn’t say that. I’m not great. I need a big favor. I’m real sorry to have to ask.”

“Come in,” he repeated, beckoning me.

He was always so sweet. I hated to take advantage of his generosity. Mercutio raced over to a row of hanging beads in the living room doorway from Johnny’s Morocco-meets-the-sixties decor. Mercutio batted the beads, tangling them around his body. “Merc,” I hissed.

“He okay. What you need, Tammy Jo?”

“I need to have a séance to get Edie here. She was supposed to get some information and report back, but she didn’t. I called her, but I guess she didn’t hear me. Since you’ve got experience with getting her to visit by having séances, I thought maybe . . .”

“I love to see Edie very much. I help you, no problem.”

I gave Johnny a big hug.

“I get candles and music and prepare room for her.”

“Where’s Rollie?”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “He out teasing people. He say the town gone crazy, and it fun to watch.”

I grimaced.

“I see what he talking about. My neighbors go naked swimming in the community pool. Mrs. Penelope is eighty-two. Very surprising that she join in.”

The dust. Again.
“That is surprising,” I mumbled, following him as he gathered up the things we’d need.

About fifteen minutes later, Johnny had the spare room ready. Black satin sheets covered the walls and windows, and a midnight blue swath of velvet lay over the table, where five burning tealight candles ringed a grapefruit-sized crystal ball. When he closed the door, the room fell into shadow. I edged up to the table and sat on a chair that was draped in velvet.

Johnny used a remote to start the stereo, which was hidden from view. The muffled sound of George Gershwin’s
Rhapsody in Blue
, one of Edie’s favorites, floated into the room.

“Now we put our hands here,” Johnny said, placing his on the table so that they formed a
U
shape around the glass globe.

“Hang on,” I said, pulling the locket out from under my shirt. I let it dangle over the table as I placed my hands so they mirrored Johnny’s. Our fingers touched, closing the circle.

“Miss Edie, please visit us,” Johnny said.

I waited, but he didn’t say more. I glanced around. “Does she usually come straight off?”

“No, sometimes it take a few minutes. Be calm. Books say better energy.”

“Oh. Right,” I whispered, and then I tried like heck to relax, but that wasn’t happening. My ears perked up at a sound until I realized it was Johnny humming along to Gershwin.

A few more minutes passed, then I felt a distinct rush of cold. The sheets slithered, and I strained my eyes, looking for a tell-tale orb or a glimpse of her.

The table rattled and uneasiness vibrated through me, frigid fingers of dread twisting my gut.

“What’s happening?” I stammered. There was something in the room, but I’d have bet my eye teeth it wasn’t Edie.

“I not knowing. Very unusual. It always quite peaceful when she come.”

The crystal ball rocked and spun like a top. Smoke twisted into a tiny tornado, and icicles of fear stabbed my heart.

A gaunt face sneered at me. I shrieked and yanked my hands back. The globe careened through the air, slamming into the side of my head and causing an explosion of pain before it skidded off my skull and crashed somewhere behind me.

Too dizzy to keep my seat, I fell sideways off my chair, landing on a pile of pillows.

“Tammy Jo!”

Chapter 30

A moment later, the lights blinked on, and Johnny Nguyen leaned over me. “My goodness. You bleeding! Let Johnny help you.”

“Did you see it? What was it?”

Johnny paused for a moment to shrug, then rushed to the door and flung it open. I pressed the heel of my hand to the place at the edge of my hair that was hot and wet. It throbbed, and I eased the pressure, feeling weak and sickly at the thought of blood dripping from my head.

It took about ten minutes of Johnny’s ministrations for me to feel well enough to examine the damage. I stood in the guest bathroom with its swirled sable and lavender print walls and tried not to faint. I took the wet washcloth off and peered at myself in the sepia-and-gold-edged antique mirror. My cut was really small, about a quarter-inch long.

“That’s not even bad,” I chided myself.

“You have a knot there, too. You took hard knock to head. Maybe a concussion.”

“That’s nothing,” I said, straightening my spine. Zach had walked off cuts three times that size before he even hit puberty.

“Why didn’t she come?” I yelled at the ceiling. My head throbbed, and I decided I was done shouting.

“It okay,” Johnny said, trying to soothe me.

I took a deep breath and rubbed my head. “I should’ve let you call her alone. It probably would’ve worked better.”

“I try again,” he said.

“No! Not with me here and not right away. Whatever was in that room might still be nearby.”

“Later, then. Now we have chamomile tea with lavender. That relax us.”

We both looked out the bathroom door at the sound of the main door opening.

“Hello!” Rollie called. “You should have seen them,” he said, laughing. Then there was an abrupt halt to the sound coming from his general direction. “I smell blood.”

He appeared in the doorway, towering into the room. He was dressed in a dark purple shirt and black jeans with a gold-and-mocha-colored scarf. He matched the decor and looked like a seventies rock star—lanky, dark, and tall, with fashionably hollowed cheeks and dark-lined eyes.

“Who’s bleeding?” Rollie asked.

I hoped bloodlust wasn’t going to turn him all vampy. Usually, he seemed to have pretty good control of himself. Except for that time he’d nearly drained my friend Georgia dry. My heart beat a little faster. Actually, I didn’t really know Rollie all that well.

“Tammy Jo bleeding,” Johnny said.

“What happened?”

“Magical mishap,” I said.

“Ah, so the usual, then.” He paused. “You must taste-test a lot of your confectionary creations.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your blood smells chocolaty.”

“I’ve been meaning to cut back. Sometime when the trouble’s over, give or take a few years. I mean months.”

“May I have a lick?” Rollie asked and ran his tongue over his fangs.

His voice sounded all reasonable, but when a vampire asks for a taste of your blood, it’s like a tiger saying: “Let me see if your head will fit in my mouth.”

I didn’t like to be rude, but I still said, “No way.”

“If I were baking, I’d let you sample the batter,” he said. “This is mere professional curiosity. You know you’re not my type.”

My muscles tightened and twitched as I got more afraid by the second. I knew that for snuggling I wasn’t his type, but he’d already proven by biting Georgia last week that he wasn’t that discriminating about his human beverages.

“I didn’t know vampires had a type when it came to blood.”

“We do, but we don’t always get to have our favorites,” he said with a full-fanged smile. “I’ll just have a little sip of you.” He moved toward me, and I scampered into the shower, yanking the frosted glass door closed behind me.

“I said no!”

I could see watery images of Johnny and Rollie doing a little two-stepped weave and dodge through the door. Finally Johnny made a squeak of protest as Rollie picked him up and deposited him outside the bathroom. Rollie pulled the door closed and locked it.

Johnny protested, pounding loudly on the door.

I held tight to the shower door handle, knowing what a fat lot of good that would do me. I bit my lip, thinking I really needed to be better armed. I never had a nice, pointy wooden stake on hand for these meetings with Rollie.

“Come on, Strawberry Shortcake, just a little taste. You won’t feel a thing.”

He pulled gently on the door handle while I clung to it, leaning back with all a hundred and six pounds of me. Most days I was glad I never seemed to put on weight, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Get ahold of yourself, Rollie! We’re friends,” I yelled.

“Exactly, and friends share,” he said. “Imagine yourself as a fudge-covered caramel, a mocha-glazed truffle, a hand-dipped chocolate strawberry—”

My stomach growled. “Be quiet!”

“Could
you
really resist? I don’t think so.”

He yanked the door open, and I stumbled forward right into him, just as the regular door burst open and Johnny slammed into us. We landed in a heap in the tub.

“I think my neck’s broken,” I grumbled from my breathless, painfully twisted position on the bottom of the pile. I honestly don’t know how Zach played football all those years without ending up suffocated.

“That good,” Johnny said to Rollie, whose mouth latched on to Johnny’s wrist.

“I make a little cut,” Johnny explained as a drop of blood welled on his hand. Rollie’s tongue darted out and caught it.

“Green tea, sweet almonds, and ginger,” Rollie mumbled, then groaned happily.

“Get off me!” I snapped, thinking that blood-drinking ought to be one of those acts that people should be alone for, like making love, watching late-night cable, or getting a spiral perm.

“Come, Rollie,” Johnny said, drawing the sinewy vampire away by the mouth.

“What did you hit the door with?” I asked, when I reached the broken door.

“Karate kick,” Johnny said.

“Wow.” I looked at Johnny as he proceeded down the hall toward his room. He’s only about my size. “Next time I come over, can you teach me to kick like that?” I called.

“Oh, sure. Until then, work on getting legs in shape. Practice kicks.”

I did a jabbing Tae-bo kick at the air.

“That okay, but for workout I like high kicks, like goddesses in blue and white.”

“Huh?”

“Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders. Uniform optional.”

Oh boy.

Chapter 31

The neighborhoods were still going full tilt. There was some kind of eighties rock revival on Main Street, and people were drag racing. I grimaced at the sound of squealing tires.

I scanned my block for signs of WAM wizards, who I didn’t want to see, and Imposter Abby, who I did. When I got out of my car, Jolene called to me from her front yard.

“Tammy Jo!” she drawled, giving
Jo
about five syllables more than it needs.

I stopped. “Yes?”

“There was a man looking for you. A good-looking, muscular man on a good-looking, muscular motorcycle.”

Uh-oh.
I looked around sharply for Incendio. “When was he here?”

“When? Hell, I don’t know. Couple hours, give or take a couple hours. Anyway, who is he? And is he married or on the market?”

“He’s a homicidal maniac, Miss Jolene. Stay away from him.”

“So he’s single, then?”

I sighed heavily and stomped into my house with Mercutio on my heels. “Well, I didn’t want to do it, but we are out of options, Merc. I’m gonna have to call power from the earth and cast a spell. Might not work. Might even cause more trouble. But the universe isn’t exactly giving us a lot of choices, is it?”

Merc purred.

“Exactly. None whatsoever.”

I contemplated all the things that I needed to make right and wanted to include everything in one big superspell, but including a verse to help me steal the emerald earrings might be considered black magic and I didn’t want that tainting the overall spell, so I decided to do my thieving the old-fashioned way.

In preparing for spell-casting, I needed to focus, so I lit lavender- and licorice-scented candles to cleanse my mind. I breathed deeply. I also knew it couldn’t hurt to pray. After the werewolves, I hadn’t really expected to have to ask for God’s help again so soon, but considering how much trouble I was in, it didn’t seem the right time to worry about being a pest.

“Hey there, God. It’s me again. Tammy Jo. I guess You’ve probably seen what’s going on here in Duvall, but in case You’ve been too busy with some other part of the world to notice, I have to mention that I’ve kind of brought on an accidental Armageddon down here.” I paused. “Yep. Sorry about that.”

I rubbed my scalp until it tingled. “Anyhow, I know You’re real busy and all, so I sure don’t expect You to clean up my mess, but, as usual, if You could guide me to whatever the right thing to do is, that’d be real helpful. Oh, and if You don’t think I’m strong enough to do it all on my own and want to lend a hand, I’d sure be grateful. Okay, thank You. Amen.”

I went to the kitchen and pulled out a jar of minced garlic. I swallowed a teaspoonful, since it’s supposed to be power-enhancing. Then I knelt down and started going through the cupboard. I’d read in my spellbook that black hollyhocks are good for power spells, and I knew that Aunt Mel had some oil she’d infused hollyhock powder into, so I searched until I found it in the back of the pantry. I dabbed it on myself and concentrated on focusing energy.

I needed to call power from the earth, but I didn’t want to scald my yard the way I had the week before, so I planned to be real specific. I put on a dark purple bra and panties—yep, a power color—and went barefoot into the yard. Naked probably would’ve been more powerful, but last week’s spell-casting in the nude was one of the things that had landed me in jail.

When I went into the yard, I left the sliding door open and Merc sauntered out. I marked the four corners with a paring knife, then poked my left pinkie and dripped blood onto the symbols.

I took a deep breath. It’s possible that I’m not the world’s worst poet, but I wouldn’t bet money on it. And while I’d like to earn magical energy with a great spell, I wasn’t above taking some pity power. I counted on the universe to recognize my sincerity and my desperation.

I took another big breath, blew it out, and cleared my throat. I dug my toes into the dirt, stretched my arms over the ground, and began:

Beautiful Earth, grow my power
Make it tall, like a sunflower
While you do, let prosper your plants
And every living thing, even the ants
Big bold Earth that I admire
Clean your air, make the dust retire
Use your wind and correct this town
For only you can flip my frown
You know that I don’t like to meddle,
But that faery dust has got to settle
And while we’re at it, the moment’s come
To seal those doors so they aren’t undone
No one really needs to come or go
Content in their own world, I just know.
Help me heal and protect the innocent,
And bring justice to the guilty, so they repent.
Thank you.

As usual I didn’t feel a thing, so I had no clue if anything had happened, but I’d done as much as I knew how to do where magic was concerned. I went inside and washed the dirt off my feet. While I did, Merc came in and ate his tuna fish, which I was glad to see. Now more than ever we needed our protein. I had a quick BLT on toast and explained to Merc about stopping Jenna before she invaded Poland and how we had to have those earrings back if we were going to face flamethrowing Incendio.

Merc licked his paws, which I took as a sign that he was grooming himself for battle. I dug through the closet looking for the stuff I’d need to make myself ready, too.

“You know what I bet?” I asked Merc as I smeared some black grease over my face. Normally, it was for football players’ cheekbones to stop the glare and stuff, but I decided it could be multipurpose.

Merc meowed.

“I bet that Jenna and her family are under the influence of the dust. I bet their house will be open, and I’ll be able to stroll right in. And even if the alarm goes off, I think the police will be too busy or too dusted up to care. How’s that for positive thinking?”

Merc looked at me like I was delusional. I waved away his skepticism while spray-painting a shower cap. Since I didn’t have a ski mask and red hair’s too conspicuous, I had to take steps.

I was glad I had the paint on hand from when I made stenciled signs to announce the bakery specials. After it dried—sort of—I put it on. I looked in the mirror and sighed. My head looked like a mushroom top.

Mercutio swiped the air as if I didn’t know that looking like a fungus wasn’t my finest fashion moment.

I took a deep breath and gave myself a once-over. Speaking of being blackened . . . between the oily shower cap and the face grease, I had a kind of glossy dark sheen to me. Except for being person-shaped, I looked just like a patent leather shoe. All I needed was a shiny silver buckle strapped to my poofy head. I sighed and looked at Merc. “If we get caught, I don’t think I’ll let them take me alive.”

He yowled.

“Since Edie’s got better things to do than to help me save myself and the town, I’ll expect you to take her place as my lookout.” I squatted down in front of Merc. “I’m counting on you. Like always.”

Merc meowed.

“Thanks,” I whispered. I pushed the yellow rubber dishwashing gloves into my pocket and stood.

Merc darted to the door, ready. I looked out through the peep-hole. I was surprised that the neighborhood was quiet. Thankfully, I didn’t see Incendio. I wondered again why he’d killed Tom Brick and Earl Stanton. Had the murders been spontaneous acts of violence or planned ahead? And, if planned, were they done with the Conclave’s blessing?

I opened my door and looked around. No witnesses in sight, so I crept to my car and we were off, sneaky as thieves in the night.

I had my window down and when I turned onto Jenna Reitgarten’s street, the sound of a motorcycle engine made my stomach hit the floorboards. I punched my finger against the knob that works the car’s lights. Driving down the dark street with my lights off was eerie. It added to my overall sense that I’m really not meant to be any sort of criminal at all.

I kept my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel as I parked. Jenna wasn’t as dangerous as a murderous warlock or a treacherous faery, but I knew I still shouldn’t underestimate her ability to ruin my life if she caught me robbing her house.

The engine’s roar faded into the night. I never spotted Incendio, but there weren’t that many motorcycles in town. I squeezed my fist shut, trying to get my nerves under control. I sucked in a breath and blew it out. Merc, who never seems to need to compose himself, hopped out his open window and landed silently on the street.

I opened my door slowly, trying to be kitty quiet. After sliding out of my seat, I pushed the door closed with my hip.

I can do this. No problem.

I loped down the street, ducking to stay shorter than the azalea and hibiscus bushes that were conveniently located in rows at the fronts of Jenna’s neighbors’ lawns.

I studied Jenna’s Georgian mansion for a moment. The stucco was the color of sand, with the central pavilion in white. I studied the tree limbs that hung near the right-sided second-story windows.

There were a few lights on downstairs, and the front door was partially open. Their Lexus sedan sat in the drive rather than in the garage, like they might be going out. A girl could hope!

I wondered if I could sneak in the front door and hide in a closet until they went to sleep or left.

I glanced at Mercutio. “If you made a diversion, I might be able to get in there and upstairs without them seeing me. It would be kind of risky for us, especially your part. I don’t know if Jenna’s husband, Boyd, has a gun, but he probably does.”

I crept across the lawn toward the front door and was only a few feet away when it opened farther. I crouched down, pressing myself against the wall and hoping the nearby bush was tall enough to shadow Merc and me completely.

I heard Jenna’s voice. “I don’t care what his butler said. I’m already dressed, and I’m going over.”

“The party’s cancelled,” Boyd said.

Cancelled!
So Bryn must’ve decided he was too worn-out to play host after all. I didn’t blame him, but I hoped calling off the party didn’t mean that he was getting sick again.

“We’re going!” Jenna flounced out in a billowy pink taffeta dress and crystal tiara that would have been the envy of any princess Halloween costume. Her fine blond hair had been teased into a puff pastry and shellacked with enough hair spray to fill the night air with the smell of it. “Bryn Lyons can’t just cancel at the last minute,” she said.

I frowned at the thought of Jenna being on Bryn’s guest list. If the party hadn’t been called off, Jenna would’ve been eating my desserts. I suddenly felt like part of the hired help. I pictured me and Mr. Jenson banished to the kitchen, making coffee while the likes of Jenna and her moneyed family got served from silver platters in Bryn’s dining room. I felt a stab of jealousy that he’d invited her. I didn’t want her in his house.

I chewed my lip, knowing it was silly to feel that way. I had no claim on Bryn’s place and no right to decide who he entertained. But he was my friend—and sort of more—and she was my anti-friend, who, for as long as I could remember, had treated me like something you’d scrape off your shoe. I didn’t want them together.

“Boyd, let’s go!” she screeched.

I blinked. Jenna was normally a pain, but she wasn’t normally crazy. I whispered to Mercutio, “She’s under the influence of the dust.”
Which might work to our advantage
.

I hoped that they’d forget to lock their front door. I also hoped I could find our family jewelry fast because I knew that if Mr. Jenson had called everyone to cancel the party, Jenna and her husband weren’t getting past Bryn’s front gate. Security Steve would see to that.

Boyd stepped out, wearing a dark suit and a dark expression. If the dust had influenced him, it sure wasn’t to put him in an overly festive mood. He pulled the door shut and locked the dead bolt. I frowned. I’m nowhere near as good a climber as Mercutio, but I was going to have to do my best.

As they drove away in their silver Lexus, I raced over to the tree and shimmied up the trunk. I crawled out on a limb in more ways than one.