BloodMoon (17 page)

“Well, don’t just stand there, give me a hug,” she said. Though I knew such demonstrativeness was unlike her, I did. She gripped me hard for a second, then let her hands down. “You’re quite athletic, aren’t you, my dear?” Rhonda commented and tried to follow me back into the garage.

“Um, Ashlee?” she called as I headed to tell Amber that our Halloween houseguest had arrived. “Is there something I should know?”

I turned to watch her struggling against the spell, although it looked more like she was struggling against her suitcase.

“Oh, sorry. Come on in.” I invited her in and then went to help her with her bags. Guess the step-monster had a little magic inside her after all.

Hey Amber!
I sent over the twin bond.

Already on it, Roz!

Elle, JR, Siegfried, Spanky and my sister met Rhonda in the garage and ushered her into the house. Oh, right. “Athletic” me, I got to carry the bag.

Amber and Elle got Rhonda settled into the guest room. Colby ended up on my couch in the pool house and spent the evening looking for jobs on the internet. She said she loathed the idea of working on Jackson’s construction crew. “I’m more of a head girl than a hands girl,” she said. I wondered if she realized how that sounded.

I got my candles and put the boxes back in garage storage, and then the rest of us sat around the main house living room with our first fire of the year blazing in the hearth. Well, all except JR, who went back into his bedroom to play on whatever PlayStation or Xbox he had this year.

Rhonda didn’t like dogs much, so after a few rebuffs, Spanky and Siegfried stayed over on our side of the wraparound sofa.

One fascinating thing about our stepmom, she’d spent most of her adult life as an emergency room nurse in a small town not far from Knightsbridge. She tells some real doozies about having to deliver babies when the doctor was too drunk to catch. It’s quite the contradiction, because she has absolutely no bedside manner. Or maybe that was a good thing in an ER nurse, the psychic constitution of a combat field medic. Apparently her lack of empathy extends to dogs and children too. It was no big surprise that she was semi-estranged from her own adult daughters.

Amber had poured us something she called “snugglies” and I wondered if there was more kick to this potion than the usual mixture of hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps. I sniffed and savored the aroma, but I didn’t sneeze, so that seemed to be a sign that the concoction was magic free.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be here till next weekend,” I said to my stepmom. Open mouth, insert foot.

“Ashlee!” My twin said.

What? You were thinking it!
I whined in her head.

Yes, but I’d never say so out loud. You make it sound like her being here is a bad thing.
I could feel her exasperation and maybe just a little bit of amusement underneath it.

“No, she’s right,” Rhonda sighed. “Sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you. Your father is getting on my last nerve so I came early. I figured it would be easier to get forgiveness than permission.”

Well, she’s right about that one,
I thought, to which Amber gave me a mental slap. Actually, it was more like dropping a cube of ice down my collar.
Hey!

She smiled.

Okay, it was funny. I smiled too.

“Anyway, I know you must be busy. So, I’ll just make myself invisible. I’ve been wanting to catch up on my reading anyway. It’s volunteer season in Tucson and your father is busy whipping those young whippersnappers into shape. His words, not mine.”

Our father “The General” organizes the volunteers who serve at the Mount Lemon Camp for Disadvantaged Boys during the winter season, which in Arizona is the nice time of year, of course. These people get free RV hookups or basic housing in return for helping the charity do its job of providing low-cost outdoor experiences for kids from all over the region.

I spied on them once when I was visiting my dad and it looked like he was having a ball ordering about those big and little soldiers. The sad part about Adam being the son that Dad always wanted is that he wanted to repeat the process with us twins, but Amber and I didn’t make for good little soldiers, and he never quite got that. I know he loves us, but he never really liked us too much. It hurts, but I’ve come to accept it.

“Yeah, don’t get between Dad and his infantry,” I said, and then popped my hand over my mouth when I realized how that sounded.

Fortunately, everyone laughed.

Amber stood and asked if anyone wanted refills, but no one did. We all felt pretty tired, I think. All except for Rhonda, who sat in her chair idly twirling her index finger like she was spinning a web.

Amber said, “I’ve got a lot to do before the convention, but I’ve arranged for the Street Witches to keep you occupied until the opening ceremonies. I hear they’re even doing a spiral dance Halloween night.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that. I think they do it in the city every All Hallow’s Eve,” Rhonda said and I thought it an obscure reference for someone just learning about witchcraft. I’d been dragged by my friend Xiana to it once and it was pretty powerful, even though I didn’t have a witchy bone in my body. Well, okay, maybe I did, since Amber seemed to.

“So, what kind of a witch are you?” I asked.

“Ashlee!” My sister again.

“Do you mean, am I a good witch or a bad witch?” Rhonda laughed. “I guess I prefer to think of myself as neither.”

Figures,
I thought.
Methinks the woman doth protest too much.

“I’m a solo practitioner of earth-based pueblo magic,” she went on.

“Never heard of it,” Amber said, voicing my thoughts exactly.

“It’s a form of hearth-craft - think feng shui with Arizonan, Native American and Mexican influences. We do everything from weaving our own dreamcatchers to spinning pottery.”

“So that’s what the dreamcatchers are about,” I said. We’d all gotten dreamcatchers for Christmas one year. I had mine hanging in the circular window on the north wall of the pool house cottage. The crystals she’d used, like teardrops on the strands of the mosaic in the centerpiece, caught the light and danced it in rainbows all over my kitchen. It made me smile at the thought.

“We channel our magic, which isn’t strong enough to affect things immediately like more powerful witches can do, into household items that hold resonances of joy, warmth, comfort, acceptance and security.”

“So, you’re a hearth-witch,” I said. The bits and pieces I’d picked up from the web said that hearth-witches were good at making people feel welcome and accepted, and though I thought she kept a nice house for my Dad, it never screamed “home” to me.

“I know I haven’t been the best maternal presence in your life. I used to try more, I suppose, but after my years as an emergency room nurse and the ugliness I saw, well, let’s just say I became a bit hardened to everything. Even my girls say so. This hearth-witchery helps me.”

I’d forgotten about my stepsisters, Beth and Brianne. The few times we’d seen each other we’d all laughed, commiserating about our lot with our parents and stepparents who drove us nuts. We’d all felt that our respective mothers and fathers had withdrawn from us a lot when they chose to marry each other. It was only when JR was born that they started getting involved again.

“I know you don’t think so much of me,” Rhonda continued. “I know I could never replace your mother.”

“You never even tried!” I exclaimed, shoving my foot further into my tonsils.

“Ashlee!” I could see the disapproval in Amber’s frown lines.

What? I’m sorry, but this is like the first time we’ve ever had a serious conversation with our stepmom without Dad being around to umpire or grunt his disapproval. Personally, I’d like to know why she’s here.
I mind-butted Amber.

“No, Amber. Ashlee’s right. That’s one thing I think we have that’s a similarity. You, Ashlee, and I. People love us or they hate us,” she said.

I gave my sister a mental raspberry.

“So, why the sudden change of heart?”

“It’s not a change of heart. It’s me making an effort because I need to. Your father isn’t doing well.”

“He never said anything to me,” Amber said. She talked to him more than I did. I have Daddy issues.

“Oh, he’ll tell you about his physical pains, his knee replacement and his back issues. But I think your father is feeling his mortality. If it wasn’t for church and the camp…” she trailed off, then cut to the chase, which is what I was about to tell her to do. “I think your father may be clinically depressed.”

To the General, many of the mental illnesses diagnosed today, such as depression, are actually due to one of two things: a failure to trust in God or a lack of willpower – which is why Amber’s eternal OCD and my slowly fading PTSD from killing Sean doesn’t get talked about in the family. We make allowances for each other, but God forbid we should ever discuss our issues and deal with them.

“Your father will never admit it, of course,” she continued.

“Maybe it’s hormones,” I interrupted her and Amber laughed. “No, really! Has he had his testosterone checked? Because I hear that men with low testosterone can experience ennui.”

“Ennui? In layman’s terms, Miss Lexicon,” my twin spat.

“Lethargy or lack of anticipation for life,” Rhonda said. “You may be right, which brings me to the second reason I’m here. I’ve heard through the grapevine there is powerful magic here in Knightsbridge. And frankly, I need more than what I can do with my minor hearth-craft to help your father.” She looked over at Amber.

“There might be some herbalists I could recommend,” Amber hedged. Across the twin-bond I saw a mental flash of the magic cookbook that sat on the kitchen shelf. Bet she was going to hide that soon.

“Well, all I know is that when I told a wise woman I know about what I was going through, she told me I needed to join the Street Witches association and they told me to get my carcass to a convention.”

“I’ll call Sister Lena in the morning. She’s the head of the chapter here and I’m sure if anyone here can help you, she can,” Amber said. “Now, if you don’t mind…” She yawned and we all followed suit. “I’m exhausted and we can catch up more in the morning.”

“Of course,” my stepmother said. “Ashlee?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired, as well,” I yawned and began to gather up our mugs and glasses to put them in the dishwasher. Amber sent me an internal thank-you on the twin line as we retired, them to bed, me to the pool house.

But not until Amber dropped a bomb on me.

Oh, by the way, I’ve volunteered us to assist Con with the magic show Friday during the opening night of the Street Witches Convention. He needs identical twins to pull off the vanishing act.

Are you friggin’ kidding me?

You weren’t doing anything that night, were you?

That’s not the point.

It’s just for one trick. I go in the box on one side of the stage and you come down the aisle from the back of the auditorium; you’ll be in and out in half an hour, tops.

I’d better,
I thought at her as I looked around my kitchenette. “I saw The Prestige and frankly I think two Scott twins is plenty.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Colby said, looking up from her laptop.

“Nothing. I sometimes talk to myself. Just ignore me.”

I know I do,
Amber said and closed with,
we’ll be rehearsing tomorrow, then Thursday night for dress rehearsal.

Oh goodie,
I sighed. So much for a half-hour commitment.

I can’t wait to see you in a rhinestone-studded thong and sparkly pasties,
Siegfried added.

“Siegfried!” My sister’s voice echoed across the yard in mock outrage. At first I assumed that it was the inappropriate comment, until I got a visual of my sister’s nose turning up at an awful stench.

Ashlee, please don’t feed Siegfried tofu from the stir-fry. Push it around your plate and toss it in the garbage if you don’t like it, but for God’s sake don’t sneak it to the familiar. Gives him gas like you wouldn’t believe.

Colby looked up at me again and I shared with her how I’d given the familiar flatulence. We giggled like schoolgirls and I made us each a cup of tea as I sat down at the table to take care of correspondence I’d been neglecting.

The next day I walked in on Rhonda and Amber having a heart-to-heart. At least that’s what it looked like. Elle was at work and Amber was working from home finishing up the swag bags for the convention attendees.

“I’m sure it’s going to be just fine,” Rhonda said, patting Amber’s hand. When she pulled away, her jewelry caught on Amber’s possess-me-not leather bracelet. “Oh dear,” she said, reaching into her knitting bag for a pair of shears.

Before I could get in a word to prevent the disaster, Amber touched Rhonda’s silver charm bangle, the snap broke open and all of the charms on her bracelet went flying onto the floor.

I reached to rescue a turtle from the rug before Spanky had it in his mouth and yelped as the thing burned me. I dropped it. I’d forgotten about the effect of silver on a werewolf. Though I wasn’t normally as susceptible as a lycanthrope – yay lupine power – it appeared that my wolf being pregnant with the pups made me more vulnerable than normal.

“Are you all right, Ashlee?” my stepmom asked.

“Yeah, must have caught it on a carpet staple or something,” I fudged and stuck my finger in my mouth.

Amber covered for me and Siegfried trotted over with a
let me see it
in his eyes.

I showed my boo-boo to him when Rhonda’s back was turned. He licked it and surprisingly enough, it was all better.
You sure you’re not a vampire?

Vampire, daemon. All in the same ballpark,
he replied.

Hmm.

It turned out that Con wanted to use us both for more than just one magic trick. He also wanted to saw the two of us in half and put us back together with the wrong parts, as in a box with a pair of wiggling feet stuck out of each end and another one with two heads. He’d mix them up again until we both had our feet and heads on straight. Don’t ask me to reveal the secret, but it did involve smoke, mirrors, extra helpers, and hidden compartments.