Slightly Spellbound (10 page)

Maybe he’d called while I’d slept.

Sixteen messages clogged my voicemail. None from Bryn. People had heard there’d been a commotion at Zach’s and wanted to check on me—and to get the latest gossip. I set the phone aside.

When the doorbell rang, I found Vangie on my doorstep with a bag from DeMarco’s. My stomach growled.

A loose, messy braid hung over her right shoulder with a pen and pencil poking out from halfway down it. Between her oddly placed writing utensils and the wrinkled bohemian clothes she wore, she looked like a cross between a mad scientist and a homeless person.

“Who’s this?” Edie said, floating over.

“Hi, Vangie,” I said.

Vangie looked around. “I sense something. A familiar presence?”

“My double-great-aunt Edie is a ghost who lives here.”

“Ah.”

“She seems familiar to me, too,” Edie said, scrutinizing Vangie by floating around her, as though sizing her up for a dress fitting. Edie’s nose twitched. “She’s too disheveled to really fit in in my time, but she has a certain vintage quality that reminds me of years past,” Edie said.

Edie had been a rebellious heiress who’d been the victim of a sensational 1920s murder in New York. Edie didn’t know who’d killed her, and she never talked much about her own death, or her glamorous former life in New York for that matter. Too sad, I guessed.

“Pretty Art Deco pin,” Edie added.

Vangie wore a small enamel and diamond flower pin. It was a gardenia, Edie’s favorite. “Gardenias are used in quite a few sex magic spells,” Edie said.

My jaw dropped. She’d never told me that. Was that why Edie was partial to them? And why she’d gotten me to use frosted gardenias on so many cakes? Good grief!

Vangie looked from side to side. “Is she moving?”

“Not at the moment. She, um, likes your pin,” I said, betting Vangie didn’t know about any sex spells. Gardenias were such a sweet little flower. Who would ever suspect?

“A gift from my fiancé,” Vangie said with a smile. “It’s my favorite flower . . . for some reasons I can’t talk about.” Vangie blushed. For the love of Hershey, Vangie did know!

Edie rolled her eyes at Vangie’s embarrassment. “The blushing schoolgirl act over a little sex magic at her age?” Edie said. “What’s the world coming to? Women are liberated. You can vote and work and smoke. You can have sex for fun without consequences. If I were alive, I’d celebrate every night with an orgy, which I wouldn’t regret in the morning
if
I happened to wake before noon,” Edie said. “The twenty-first century is wasted on you girls.” She floated toward the window.

“Where are you going? Will you drop by and check on Zach?” I asked hopefully.

Edie sighed and nodded, returning to me. She put her phantom hands on my face. “Oh, my darling,” she said in the softest tone I’d heard from her in years. “He’ll be all right and so will you.”

I nodded, unconvinced. “I know you’re disappointed about Zach and me. And about me and Bryn.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I traveled with Zach as he drove to that training camp, and I stayed with him on and off in his dilapidated motel room. He was far too overbearing toward the end of your marriage, but the realizations and pain of the past few months have made their mark on him. He always had a good heart. Against all odds, he’s finally got a tolerable manner to match.”

Edie pursed her lips. “The calculating Bryn Lyons is another matter, but I suspect he may have bitten off more than he can chew where you’re concerned. I hope so. As for me not liking him, well,” she said, shrugging, “my own father was a nightmare, and I managed to live with the man for more than twenty years. I can tolerate awful men when I don’t have a choice. But that spell that bans me from his house has to be lifted. Tell him to prove he loves you by getting him to remove it.” She gave me a phantom kiss and disappeared.

I stared after her for a moment. Did I want to get in the middle of the power struggle between Bryn and Edie? Definitely not. But would my family ever accept him while he had a spell barring Edie from his house? No way. I sighed.

“Problem?” Vangie asked, leaning forward.

The scent of Vangie’s perfume, which made me feel like dancing, hit me again, and I recognized it. It was the fragrance of some of Edie’s old things. “What’s that perfume you’re wearing?”

“Chanel Number Five. Another gift. I like it more than I expected. Now what’s the problem between Bryn Lyons and your aunt? You should tell me all about it. I’ve had years of therapy, so I’m practically a therapist myself.”

“Oh, um, that’s sweet of you. But I don’t feel like talking about Edie and Bryn right now.”

“They don’t get along? Why not?” Vangie asked. “When did she die? Is there a blood feud? Are you and Bryn a supernatural Romeo and Juliet?”

“Vangie!”

“All right!” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You can tell me later,” she added. “Are you hungry? I brought lasagna.”

“Yum.”

We sat at the table. “Oh hey, did you remove those hexes?”

“Yes,” she said, but looked away from me, and I wondered if she told the truth.

“Vangie!”

“I did. I swear. But in one case, I was a little late. One woman suffered dehydration and low blood pressure. As a precaution, they sent her by ambulance to Dallas. A bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. I hear she’s fine now.”

I sighed. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Cast a spell?”

“Not that kind of spell. Duvall townspeople are off-limits.”

She tapped her plate absently with her fork, thinking it over.

“Tell me about your stepmother and stepbrother. Why would they be plotting to kill you?” I asked.

She perked up. “I don’t know, but they absolutely are.”

“Mmm,” I said, and took another bite. “What exactly did they say?”

“That they have to kill me.”

“They used the word
kill
?”

“Yes. And Oatha can do it. She killed my father. I don’t know how. But she did. I saw the triumphant look on her face when she heard he was dead.”

“Even if she looked happy, it doesn’t mean she did it,” I pointed out.

“Oatha’s family descended from a really nice line of Cajun witches. But Oatha’s brother married a bad woman, a voodoo priestess. I believe Oatha is learning curses from her.”

She traced a crisscross pattern with her fingers on the table.

“But there were no traces of the spell on your father’s body. That doesn’t seem possible if he was murdered by magic.”

She waved a hand and then made symbols on the table. I realized she was playing tic-tac-toe on an imaginary board she’d drawn.

“Okay, let’s say they do want to kill you. Why now? Has something happened?”

Vangie shrugged.

“You’re engaged.”

“They don’t know that. I’ve never introduced him to them. And never will!”

“Let’s assume they found out somehow.”

“Oh, well then, sure.” She made an imaginary
O
mark on her imaginary board.

“Then sure what?”

“Well, then they’d have a motive. It’s in my father’s will that if I get married, I get the house and all its contents.”

“You get his spellbooks! And the house!”

“Yes. And most of the money.”

“Oh my God,” I said, my fork pausing in midair. “That’s it. They probably found out.”

“How could they? I’m very secretive.” She paused, narrowing her doe eyes. “Unless they used one of my father’s spells to spy. Maybe they planted something in my apartment!” She shook her head. “And no one believes me about them. They all think I’m crazy.” She glanced back down at the table and finished her game with a flourish, giving herself a congratulatory thumbs-up.

I eyed her over the top of my water glass. “I can’t imagine why.”

“So now I understand why they’re after me. And you figured it out,” she said with a smile. “You’re the best maid of honor ever! What kind of gun should I buy?”

“None. As a lawyer and a wizard, Bryn will sort this out. And I’ll help him.”

“The only real way to stop them would be to kill them. How will you do it?” she asked.

My jaw dropped. “That’s not what I meant.”

She played another game of tic-tac-toe with herself and then looked up. “My fiancé, Jackson, will be here tomorrow. He can’t wait to meet you,” she said with a bright smile. “He’s probably going to try to convince you to relocate to Dallas to be our chef. My idea,” she said. “I’ve told him how chaotic your personal life is.”

“I’m not leaving Duvall,” I said gently.

“It’ll do you good.”

“Even so, I’m staying put.”

“You’ll change your mind,” she said softly. “Because we’re such good friends. And because Jackson’s very persuasive.” She sighed dreamily, then looked sharply at me. “Don’t fall in love with him.”

“Oh, Vangie, I can promise you there is no way I’m going to fall in love with yet another man. My love life’s been messed up enough. I’m trying to make it less complicated. Not more so. Besides, I’d never go after a friend’s guy. So wrong!”

“Good.” She smiled. “You couldn’t anyway. I had health—well, mental health—troubles when I was young. Jackson had a blood disease when he was a boy. We both recovered, but he says the memory of being sick makes us birds of a feather. You weren’t sick as a child, were you?”

“Nope. It turns out I was kind of indestructible.”

“Well, there you are,” Vangie said, satisfied.

“How about some dessert?” I asked, getting up.

“Yes, please.” She played another game before taking the plate. After a bite, she moaned and then exclaimed, “Delicious! I’m going to love it so much when you move to Dallas.”

I winced. Romantic relationships weren’t the only ones that were exhausting.

10

VANGIE INSISTED THAT she keep me company for moral support. Since I didn’t feel like talking, I put in a DVD of
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
and then promptly fell asleep on the couch. I was startled awake by a sharp prod in my side.

I opened one tired eye. “What?”

“They’re here! What are they doing here?” Vangie demanded.

“Who?” I mumbled, sitting up. Hair hung in my eyes, like my vision didn’t have enough trouble with blurriness from sleep.

“You didn’t tell her I was here, did you?” Vangie asked, giving my arm a sharp pinch.

“Ow. Cut that out,” I said, smacking her hand away. “I’ve been asleep. Who would I have told? The Sandlady?”

“You didn’t call her earlier?”

“I don’t even know who the heck you’re talking about.”

Vangie made a threatening pincer motion. “Tell me the truth. Did she call you?”

“For pete’s sake,” I said, shoving her away from me. “You pinch me again, and I’ll never make you another dessert for as long as you live.”

Vangie sucked in a breath and widened her eyes, yanking her hand back.

Oh yeah, I can play rough.

“Now, who’s out there? And what kind of weapon do I need?”

“It’s Oatha Theroux, my stepmother. She’s probably got Beau with her. I didn’t see him through the peephole, but he’s somewhere nearby. Let’s go out the back and climb the fence. How tall is it? Can I climb it in these shoes?” She raised a lace-up platform boot.

I gave her leg a push to lower it. “We’re not climbing any fence,” I said. “You just keep your boots on.” I stalked to the kitchen drawer and got my gun. I tucked it under my shirt. “This is where I live. I’m not fixin’ to be run out of my own house. And nobody’s going to run off any of my friends either. Especially when I’m busy watching—or sleeping through—a movie.”

“Uh, Tammy Jo?”

“Yeah?” I asked, glancing around. “Where’s Mercutio? Merc?” I called.

“I think he’s out. He left a while—”

Mercutio bounded down the stairs. I bent down and stroked his head.

“Morning, Merc. We’ve got company.”

“Oh, he’s home. He’s quite stealthy.”

“That he is,” I said fondly. Mercutio stretched.

“Tammy Jo, I’m just going to—um—I’ll be here, but don’t tell them that I am, okay?” With that, she opened a closet where I kept my mops and stepped inside. She pulled the door closed.

“For the love of Hershey,” I grumbled, marching to the front door, where the knocking had gotten louder and more urgent. Mercutio hissed at the closed door.

“It’s like that, is it?”

I had been reaching for the door handle with my right, but switched to my left in case I needed my gun hand free. I opened the door and coughed at the putrid smell that wafted in.

Oatha had streaks of gray that had resisted black hair dye, wrinkles that had resisted Botox, and teeth that had resisted straightening. Her lipstick shade was the color of dried blood—more brown than red—and if she hadn’t used at least six coats of mascara, she’d attached dead caterpillars to her eyelids. Her dark purple stretch top plunged farther than was decent unless you’re working as a stripper, and somebody should’ve paid her bra’s underwire overtime. Beyond all the Goth gone bad, though, the unsettling thing was the stench. When I was seven, we’d taken a class trip to Stucky Clark’s family ranch. We’d discovered a dead cow covered in flies and baking in the sun. Oatha Rhodes smelled almost as bad as a bloated cow rotting in the Texas heat.

She sized me up and nodded. “Hello, Trask child. Is your mother or aunt here?”

I shook my head, taking a step back.

She sniffed. “Tell her to come out.”

“Who?” I asked, peering past her. I didn’t see the stepbrother yet.

“My stepdaughter.”

“Who says she’s here?”

She narrowed her eyes, caterpillar lashes shadowing her cheekbones. “I say so,” she said with a hiss. “Beau,” she called. “Ghosts. All around.”

“Yeah, Momma,” a voice to the left said.

I flicked on the porch light. I could just make him out. He wasn’t very tall, but the glint in his eyes gave me pause, like a raccoon coming down with rabies, not quite crazed, but working on it.

“We’ll come in,” Oatha said, pulling the screen open.

I reached back for my gun but then dropped my arm. Keep your friends close and their enemies closer.

“Of course,” I said. “Y’all come on in out of the cold. What can I make you to drink? Tea? Chicory coffee? I don’t have beignets, but I’ve got three kinds of homemade scones and a torte that’ll curl your toes or my name isn’t Tammy Jo Trask,” I said, my tone sweeter than vanilla icing.