Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) (11 page)

“Why would you assume that?” I asked. “I know how to cook.”

“Not like that, you don’t.” He laughed. “Gus is a
gourmand
. I just hope he’s made enough. I know how you pregnant women get about your food. I would rather not have you gnawing on my arm.”

I rolled my eyes. At least I could hear movement in the kitchen, so Gus must have returned.

*     *     *

“Forrest!” Gus said, obviously thrilled. “Sexy shirt. It brings out the blue in your eyes.”

Forrest put his box down on the floor next to the kitchen counter, and Gus embraced him.

I remembered about the plum I had left in the sink and went to toss it outside, but it was gone.

When they broke their clinch, I pulled Gus aside.

“Gus? Where’s the plum?” I asked. “It was in the sink.”

Gus looked at me like I was an idiot. “I ate it.”

I gasped.

“I know. It was the last one. I’ll get you more tomorrow.”

“It’s not that.” I said.

I looked over at Forrest. He was busy opening the box and ignoring us.

I turned back to Gus and lowered my voice. “That plum fell in the garbage disposal.”

“Ewww. I thought it tasted weird. Why didn’t you throw it out?”

“Because you vanished the garbage can!”

“I didn’t vanish it, I relocated it.”

“Why would you eat something that’s sitting in the sink, anyway? It’s not like I had left it on the counter.”

“I was craving the firm, tart sweetness that only a plum can supply. And it was the last one.”

“Fruit addiction is an ugly thing.” I snapped, using his own accusation against him. “Do you know what kind of nasty, moldy, bacteria-laden stuff gets tossed down the disposal?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I rinsed it first.”

I looked at him, darkly. “Right. Tell me if your insides feel like they’re going to explode.”

Forrest cleared his throat, interrupting us. “Ta-da!”

He stepped aside, doing the big reveal, and I yelped in surprise. There, sitting on the counter, was a lit-up aquarium that contained small trees, a miniature pond and a Grundleshanks replica.

As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t a replica. It was actually Grundleshanks, stuffed and motionless. “What the hell?”

Gus was pleased as punch. “Grundleshanks lives!” he said, cackling an evil witch laugh. “That’s totally brilliant.”

“Disturbing is more like it.” I looked over at Grundleshanks’s spirit, who was curiously checking out his body double in the tank.

“I tried to get the rest of the remains, but the taxidermist said he didn’t have them.” Forrest frowned.

“Of course not. You think I’d let those bones out of my sight? He just needed the skin. I have the rest safely tucked away.”

I quickly looked around the kitchen, in case anything caught my attention. The last time Gus had safely tucked away any remains, it was in my freezer back in Los Angeles. But nothing jumped out at me.

I sat down on the kitchen chair and Aramis jumped on my lap. I petted him while Apollo kept trying to jump up on the counter to check out the aquarium. Thankfully, he was still too little to quite manage it.

With a croak, the spirit of Grundleshanks drifted through the tank and settled into the body. Then he sighed and seemed to drift off to sleep. Or whatever it is dead toads do when they want to tune out the world.

Forrest looked around. “Do you hear something?”

Gus listened. “Mara, I think your radio is playing.”

“What? No way. It’s not plugged in. That would just be weird.”

“Can’t you hear it?” Gus said.

I tried to listen.

Very faintly, I thought I caught a few notes.

*     *     *

As I took the steps upstairs, the song got louder. By the time I walked into the bedroom, the radio was rocking
Devil Went Down To Georgia
at full blast.

I could have sworn I unplugged it. I turned the radio off, then followed the cord to the wall socket.
Ha!
I
had
unplugged it. I knew it.

“Well, that’s just odd.” I wondered if Aunt Tillie had been running the radio, but Charlie Daniels Band was not her cup of tea. Maybe if it had been classical music…

I looked at the plug. Was it possible that I had left it half-in and half-out of the socket and when I followed the cord just now, was when I’d actually unplugged it? Or maybe Gus had plugged it back in when he came upstairs? I curled the plug up on the dresser, so there’d be no doubt. Just in case it happened again.

On my bed was a neatly-placed pair of trousers with suspenders, a vest, an old-fashioned suit jacket, a derby bowler hat with a feather in the band, and instructions on how to use fake hair, glue and an eyebrow pencil, courtesy of Gus.

Since Gus and Forrest were putting the finishing touches on dinner, I put on the outfit, complete with makeup and ritual jewelry—especially my pentacle. I wanted to be prepared and warded since we were going to spend the evening in the cemetery.

*     *     *

I returned downstairs, just as Forrest was saying, “Come on, show me. You know you want to.”

“No way. Mara will freak. Trust me, you don’t want to see her in full freak-out mode. It’s Stephen King-style mayhem.”

“Are you talking about your penis again? Been there, seen it, got the postcard. I’m pretty sure it’s internationally famous by now.” I said, stepping into the kitchen. “What am I going to freak about?

Gus snorted as he drizzled olive oil on a Greek salad (cut-up tomatoes, feta cheese and cucumber slices seasoned with oregano). “We’re talking about Grundleshanks’s remains.”

My face must have turned green, because Gus smacked Forrest’s arm and pointed at me.

“See? That’s what I mean. Right there. Her head’s going to start spinning at any moment.”

“Shut it,” I glared at him, pressing down on my wrist, until the wave of nausea ceased.

Chapter 21

“I
like the new look,” Gus said, winking at me.

“You would,” I replied, still concentrating on getting my nausea under control.

Since it was Misrule, everything had to be turned on its head, including gender. So I currently looked like some middle-aged man out of the last century, sporting a beer belly.

Once my stomach settled down, I took the platters of Greek salad and warm pita bread from Gus and headed out with the Dobes. I’d rather be outdoors at the cemetery, than in a kitchen that seemed to be growing smaller by the second, with Gus and Forrest talking about stuff I didn’t want to think about.

What was it with boys and gross things? Although since Gus hadn’t brought out Grundleshanks’s remains, my guess was he probably didn’t have them in the house (thank the Goddess). Or maybe there was some kind of magickal reason why he had to keep them hidden until the next full moon.

Once Gus told me what he was planning for Grundleshanks, I looked up the ritual. I found some stuff online, but most of the details were in Gus’s esoteric lore books.

The toad was a shamanic creature, that dwelt on both land and water, a totemic guide for a witch who dwelt both on Earth and in the Otherworld. So I could see why Gus was a huge toad fan. And Grundleshanks had been the coolest toad ever.

The toad bone ritual was part of the Horseman’s lore. They used the bone to exert almost preternatural control over a horse, commanding it to become gentle or go wild at a whisper. And while I could understand that would have been super-important in an era when we relied on horses for everything, we were living in the era of the automobile.

Besides, the last time I suggested we go trail riding, Gus adamantly refused. He didn’t want anything to do with an object of transportation that didn’t have drink holders, seat belts or a GPS.

*     *     *

When I arrived at the cemetery, I found the missing garbage can, a long table and chairs, boxes of decorations, and coolers filled with appetizers and drinks. For the guys, there were two sweet wines: the red Mavrodaphne and white Samos of Muscat
,
and a bottle of the turpentiny-tasting Retsina. And for me, a giant bottle of coconut water. There was even a large can of dog food for the Dobes.

Since I had nothing else to do, while the dogs ran around sniffing everything, I started transforming the cemetery. I covered the table with a few large Celtic sarongs. Then I put our skull, whom we had started calling Bertha, on top of a hearthstone that Gus had carved with sigils. I set the skull and the stone at the head of the table, laid a silver bell on one side and priapic wand on the other, and then circled the hearthstone with candles.

I don’t know what got into me. But as the sun started to set, everything looked so perfect and magickal, I couldn’t help myself. I lit the candles and did a small calling to the spirits of the ancestors, the spirits of the dead who surrounded us.

I told myself that I was just trying to prime the space, to acknowledge the spirits and let them know we were here, so that when Gus called them in—since it was
his
dinner after all—they’d come in like gangbusters.

Instead, I got a response I wasn’t expecting. White wraiths rose up from the ground, spirits passing through coffins and dirt, so thick in their manifestation, it was like standing in fog.

The dogs whimpered and pressed closer to me.

My heart pounded faster and I stopped breathing, wondering what in the world I had just done.

The fog rolled out, stretching, before forming separate shapes.

Finally, I recognized my Aunt Tillie and my mom, and a whole bunch of people who I didn’t know, but who felt familiar.

I started breathing again. Aramis growled, while Apollo started barking. I petted them and told them to hush. They quieted down, but the hair on their necks still bristled.

“It’s bad form to call us in girl, when there’s no food on the table,” Aunt Tillie said, sidling up to me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to actually call you in yet. I don’t know what came over me.”

I quickly took a little of each of the cut-up veggies, fruit, and Greek cheeses—kasseri and feta—from the cooler and put them on a plate for the dead, adding a spoonful of Greek salad and a torn off piece of pita bread. Then I opened the container of tiropitakia (Greek cheese triangles) and spanakopitakia (Greek spinach triangles)—which Gus had made from scratch—and added one of each to the platter.

“I know what it was,” my mom said, winking at me, as she sat down. “You missed us.”

“That must be it,” I agreed.

“You look ridiculous,” Aunt Tillie sniffed.

“When it comes to missing people, I wasn’t talking about
you
,” I told my great-aunt.

“Ignore your Aunt Tillie,” my mom said. “You look adorable. Just like your brother.”

Aunt Tillie hissed and the whole world came crashing down around me.

I heard a faint roaring in my ears.

“My
what
?!” I asked.

“I meant, if I had had another child.”

“That’s
not
what you said,” I glared at her. “What brother?”

“You never did know when to shut up, Adele,” Aunt Tillie said.

“
What
brother?” I repeated.

My mom sighed. “Before I met your father, I fell in love with a boy in my school. Things went a little too far. I was young and back then, babies didn’t raise babies.”

I set out the bottles of wine while I mulled that over. From what I had gotten to know of my mother, I didn’t think she would have terminated the pregnancy. And if she did, she wouldn’t be talking about him in the present tense.

“So, somewhere in the world, I have a brother?” I asked, trying to gauge the answer by their reactions.

“And you’ll shut the
h-e-double-toothpicks
up about it,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “Unless you want him to go through the same hell you went through, with that she-devil ancestress of yours.”

I looked around, to see if Lisette, the witch whose spirit had possessed my body and who had wreaked havoc on my life, had shown up.

“Lisette’s not here,” my mom said. “She’s still being pursued by the Wild Hunt.”

Aunt Tillie cackled. “Serves her right. Now, can we get off this entire topic? Before we draw unwanted attention to it?”

“Please,” my mom begged, looking at me.

“This isn’t the end of it,” I said. “We will be talking about this again. I have way too many questions to let this go.”

I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. Somewhere in the world, I might have a brother.

“Fine. Later. Not Now.” Aunt Tillie said, shooting my mom a dirty look. Then she turned to me. “Did you talk to Gus?”

I sighed. “He tied the seasonal ritual into the toad ritual. He can’t break the one without doing the other.”

Aunt Tillie gasped, horrified. I could tell she was gearing up to go into full-out nag mode and give me an earful, so I tried to cut her off at the pass. “It’s not that big a deal. So he’ll wind up with a bone that controls horses. Who even has horses anymore? Besides, I think Gus is scared of them anyway. I doubt he’s going to turn into the next Monty Roberts.”

Monty Roberts was the only real-life horse whisperer I had heard of. I wondered if he had a toad bone in his mojo bag.

“There should be some kind of licensing or regulation of witches. Before you’re given your powers, you need to be intelligent enough to know when not to use them,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “I’ve never seen two people who deserve to be completely mortal more than the two of you.”

My mom frowned. “What Gus is planning to do, is forbidden.”

Aunt Tillie shook her head. “The fool is going to hand himself over to—”

“Don’t say it,” my mom warned her.

“And there’s nothing we can do about it,” Aunt Tillie finished.

I felt like screaming. “Can we drop the melodrama? Come on. It’s Gus. He just wants to do the ritual, to prove that he can. To have a magickal remembrance of Grundleshanks. It’s not that big a deal. The bone will probably never leave his altar. And even if it does, it’s freaking horses, for cripe’s sake.”

“It’s a very big deal,” my mom said. “Have him find another toad. He must release that one.”