spies and spells 02 - betting off dead (20 page)

“You know.” She squinted up at my window. “I’ve never seen y’all have any sort of rodents over there.” Her brows furrowed. “What’s your secret?”

And there she went.

Mrs. Hubbard was nosy and she and Auntie Meme had had a few words right there in the courtyard in front of everyone. Auntie Meme told her to mind her own business, only her exact words were
my business isn’t your business and unless you’re my panties don’t be up my ass.

Mrs. Hubbard was as mad as a wet hen but it didn’t stop her from still being nosy.

“There’s no secret.” There was. Auntie Meme put a rodent spell on Mrs. Hubbard’s house sending every rodent on Belgravia Court over there. The Orkin man was a fixture over there.

Susie Brown, our other neighbor and Belgravia Court’s neighborhood watch president, even started a rumor that Mrs. Hubbard and the Orkin man were having a fling. Only we knew the truth and we never gave into gossip. In fact, the women loved to meet up in the courtyard on Saturday nights with their fancy cocktails and catch up on the gossip on Belgravia Court. The Park family—my family—were always a topic of interest because we spent much of our time to ourselves. Well, not Auntie Meme. She spent a lot of time looking out the front window wondering what type of spell she could send Mrs. Hubbard’s way. When she’d get down to the nitty-gritty of a spell, Mom wouldn’t let her send it. Auntie Meme fussed that Mom let her make the spell, why not let her send it. Mom let Auntie Meme concoct the spells so she wouldn’t have to entertain my feisty auntie.

Still, the neighbors loved to gossip about us. Much was speculation, but still, they lived on speculation. 

“I’m getting ready to go to work. I’ll see if we have any bread ties.” I politely waved, pushing the window back down. I pulled the cord of the blinds, zipping them up to the top of the window to let the sunlight fully in.

I stomped over to my closet for good measure in case Mom was listening and opened the dark wood door. Everything in the house was dark and old. It was one of the things that drew Mom and Auntie to the Historic Old Louisville. The small suburb within the city held many secrets, like our family. It was old, like our family, and held comfort for Mom.

From what Mom had told me and I had gathered, when we moved to Kentucky before I was born, the family started to become more and more engrained with mortals. We were a dying breed and it was fine with me since they never let me use the magic I held inside.

Don’t put a spell on that. Clean the dishes, not with a swipe of your finger. Use the laundry machines, not a wave of your hand
.

But today I was going to be late and a wave of my hand might be what saved me from doing the dishes, the mortal way, in the diner.

Just like that, I raised my arm, twirling my wrist three times ending in a snap. And just like that, I was dressed in a black long-sleeved turtleneck, black skinny jeans, and a pair of cheetah print loafers. My long black hair neatly slicked back into a ponytail and minimal makeup was perfect for the home-cooked meals I’d be serving.

“Good morning.” I greeted my mom who was standing at the kitchen sink window picking some basil off the potted plant. I put my hands on both of her arms, giving her a little squeeze. “Thank you for sending in Riule,” my tone was sarcastic.

Riule was sitting underneath the kitchen table with his leg thrown up in the air looking like the cover model on
Cat Fancy
magazine, his tongue stopped in mid-lick as his eyes bore into mine stopping for a second and then returning to cleaning himself.

“It won’t be a good morning, good afternoon, or good night if you don’t get to work.” Mom’s eyes drew down on me. Her beautiful good looks caught me off guard. Her hair was long and black like mine. We had the same almond-shaped black eyes and oval face. She had high cheekbones like Lilith, while I had round ones that made me look younger than I really was. “Auntie Meme will work on a spell for you instead of Mrs. Hubbard.”

Many times Mom and I had been in public when people had mistaken her for my sister.

“And,” her eyes slid down to my toes and up to my head. Her eyes stared at me. She had crow’s feet—the only facial sign she was older than me. “It seems like you got ready awfully fast.” Her cool tone was filled with
I know you used magic
.

“Do we have any bread ties?” I grabbed the piece of wheat toast Mom had sitting on the counter. I closed my eyes and savored the first bite. She made the best buttered toast. There wasn’t a single grain left unbuttered. Mom made sure she spread the pat of butter to the edges, letting it seep in the warm toast.

“Mrs. Hubbard?” Mom picked a few more leaves from the window garden and bundled them with a piece of cord she had already precut.

“Yes,” I mumbled, stuffing the rest of the toast in my mouth.

“In the drawer.” Mom waved her hand in a circular motion before uncurling her long lean finger toward the junk drawer. 

“In the drawer huh?” I questioned, pulling the junk drawer open knowing it was stuffed with pens, coupon circulars, and everything but bread ties. “Talk about magic.” I swiveled my eyes Mom’s way, questioning her little bit of magic. “And you accuse me of using magic.”

I grabbed a fistful of ties, kissed my mom on the cheek and headed out of the kitchen toward the front of the house.

“I’ll be right back,” I called over my shoulder and walked down the hallway, opening up the heavy wooden door to the courtyard.

Belgravia Court was an odd place to live. There were two rows of houses opposite each other with a grassy courtyard down the middle. The front of the houses faced the courtyard. Each side had its own sidewalk with gas carriage lanterns lighting the way. Along the backs of our homes was an alley with each home having a detached garage. 

The houses were so close together, I couldn’t spit out my side bedroom window without hitting the neighbor’s house.

Belgravia Court was a close-knit community with everyone in everyone else’s business. Not the Parks. We tried to stay on the down-low as much as possible. Given our heritage and all.

“I found some.” I waved my fistful of bread ties in the air toward Mrs. Hubbard.

I glanced up at the sky. It was unseasonably cool for a June day in Kentucky.

Ruff, ruff, ruff.
King charged me. I flicked my hand, sending a little jolt of
don’t screw with me
at him. Enough for him to feel it, but not enough to hurt him. I had to keep the ankle biter from sinking his sharp little daggers in me.

King yelped, running back under the bushes.

“He has that same reaction with your crazy aunt.” Mrs. Hubbard eased down her front steps and bent down to get her dog from the hedges. Her butt stuck straight up in the air, she dug her arms deeper into the bushes until she came out with a shaking King. “Oh stop that.” She snuggled him against her. “Maggie isn’t anything like the rest of ’em.”

“They aren’t so bad.” I glared at the dog, holding the ties out for her to take.

“Thank you, honey.” Mrs. Hubbard nodded her head to put them down on the step, glancing sideways at me.  She walked back up her steps and put King in the house. She turned and said, “Tell me.” She went back to the fake flowers, quickly tying some together before sticking them back in the planter boxes. “What was your mom doing up there on the balcony?”

I looked over at my house. The red three-story home was beautiful with the double porches on the front of the left side of the house. On the right were two large windows on each level. But the porches were really the charming feature. The first one was considered the front porch. Two dark grey pillars were built on the brick wall to the open porch leading up to the large wooden door with long skinny decorative windows on each side. Above the door was a stained glass window Auntie Meme had created herself. If you were to look closely, you’d see little images of our heritage.

Above the porch was another open porch with wrought iron railing. The doors leading into the house from the second porch were all glass. The room off the second porch was Mom’s room. Then the third floor was where Lilith and my rooms were located. We had the whole Jack and Jill bathroom thing going. It was cute when we were kids, not so much now.

“She was doing her morning yoga.” I smiled, lying.

Mom used the morning sun to welcome the day, sending a little prayer of protection for the family every morning. Normally she was careful of watchful eyes at four-thirty in the morning, and normally Mrs. Hubbard wasn’t up that early. Something told me today was going to be anything but normal.

Mrs. Hubbard harrumphed, not fully satisfied with my answer, but she didn’t balk at it either.

“I don’t have a horse in that race. But it seems to me she’d go to one of them fancy yoga studios.” Mrs. Hubbard eyed me, setting her jaw. We stood there for a second before she waved it off. She bent down and picked up a bouquet of plastic flowers. “No horse in that race.”

“It was good to see you.” I turned to go back to the house and grab my clutch and keys. “I’ve got to work.”

“Still working for Meme?” Mrs. Hubbard asked, shaking the bouquet at me.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a family business.” I strolled closer to my house, making more distance between me and Mrs. Hubbard. If I didn’t, she’d start asking questions I didn’t want to answer.

“You tell that mom of yours that I’m going to give her a run for her money on the Hidden Treasure Tour,” she warned.

“I’ll do that.” I ran up the front stairs and slammed the front door when I got safely inside. “Mom!” I yelled down the hall. “You better step up your garden game.” I laughed and grabbed my keys and clutch off the counter. Mom had put the bundle of herbs next to them so I wouldn’t forget to take them to The Brew. “Mrs. Hubbard is going to give you a run for your money.”

Mom stopped plucking the herbs and looked at me. There wasn’t a bit of amusement in her eyes. She took her life’s journey very seriously.

I put my arms up in the air with my hands stuffed. “Her words not mine.” I winked and headed out the back door. “Hey, do you think I could take more of an active role in cooking at the diner?”

Mom’s head snapped back, she took me in.

“I’m so tired of not having a purpose.” I objected to her stare. “I know the Witchy Hour and stuff, but I’m twenty-eight years old and I’d like to get on with my life.”

“When you have your Witchy Hour, your life will get on,” she said and went back to plucking.

“Mom.” I cried, getting her attention. “All I’m asking is for you to talk to Auntie Meme and tell her you agree to let me have a more active role in the kitchen.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, pointing to the door for me to get going.

Mom had really done an amazing job in our back yard. We had a play pool; it was only four feet deep and not very long, but it was big enough for the four of us to get in and enjoy on a hot Kentucky summer day. Plus the vibrant colors of the flower garden Mom had grown along with special herbs made the yard pop with colors. The fountain that drained into a curvy pond where koi fish lived was a new feature. Mrs. Hubbard hadn’t seen it and was going to probably die right there while the tour was going on. That wasn’t my concern. I had to get to work before Auntie Meme had her own heart attack.

I used the keypad to open the electric garage door.

“Good morning, Vinnie,” I said to my 1965 red AC Cobra familiar.

His lights blinked off and on, the driver door swung open, and the engine started.

“Good morning, Maggie. I hope you find the temperature to your liking this cool morning,” Vinnie said, as he always aimed to please me.

I got in and put the herbs down on the passenger seat along with my purse.

“I see your mom has been busy this morning.”

“She has.” I shut the door and put my hands on the wheel. “What’s the weather today?”

“A cold front is coming through and will be here for the next couple of days.” Vinnie pulled out, taking a right down the alley.

At the end, he took another right on Sixth Street and then a left on Hill Street.

“I imagine you will be busy today.” Vinnie was good at making small talk.

He hadn’t had to get me out of too many bad situations. And I wasn’t sure what he could do as my familiar to keep me safe. But I never questioned. He was a cool car and he had become more of a friend than a car. Sounded strange, but it was true.

“I hope so,” I groaned. “You know,” I sighed. “I’m twenty-eight and I don’t want to be stuck in a diner all my life.” I bit my lip wondering if I was going to have to create my own destiny and not worry about what my heritage said my life’s journey was. “Or maybe we have become so engrained in the mortal world, we don’t have a life’s journey anymore.”

“You mean like an evolution type of theory?” Vinnie asked pulling up to the curb on Fourth Street where the diner was located.

“Yeah. Something like that. Something has got to give or I’m going to find my own journey. Create my own Witchy Hour.” I sucked in a deep breath and looked through The Brew’s front windows.

It was already busy. Many of the regulars were already bellied up to the counter.

“You leave well enough alone. Your Witchy Hour will be here soon enough.” Vinnie didn’t like me messing with the spirits. “You are messing with your future and that is not up to you.”

Contrary to what mortals lived by,
you can be anything you want to be
, not me. I had to be what I was destined to be and I knew in my gut The Brew wasn’t my destiny.

I grabbed the bundle of herbs and my clutch and opened the door to get out. Once I got out, I glanced around to make sure no one saw me talking to my car. I bent down into the driver’s side and said, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I shut the door and watched Vinnie zoom down Fourth before I stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the diner.

The Brew, our family-owned retro style diner, was a great cover for my family’s little secret in Louisville, Kentucky. The residents here loved Kentucky basketball and fast horses, not a family full of witches. I’m not sure how or why my mom and Auntie Meme came to live in Kentucky, but it’s been home to me all my life.