Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) (15 page)

Death. Three of Swords. The Tower.

Transformation. Sorrow. Change through destruction. Boy, those cards sure as hell were familiar.

“Seriously? We are
not
going through that again. That was so four months ago,” I said. “Show me what’s going on
now
.”

I laid out three more cards.

Devil, Devil, Devil.

I flipped over the entire deck and spread it out.

All the cards were Devil cards.

“Now do you understand?” asked Aunt Tillie. “Gus is courting one powerful enemy.”

“But what does the D—”

She shot me a look

“—bag,” I hastily amended, “have to do with our toad?!”

“I can’t tell you. I didn’t even tell you this much. You figured it out on your own.”

Ugh.
I felt like I was beating my head against the wall.

“I tried warning him,” I said, exasperated. “Gus doesn’t buy it. He doesn’t even see you anymore—or any spirit for that matter. He thinks I’m lying to him. Why can’t you make him see you?”

“Knows everything, does he?” Her eyes glittered. “He’s going to bring trouble you don’t need.”

“That may be, but we’re stuck. He’s tied the rituals together, so he has to go through with it. If he doesn’t, we’re looking at permanent summer. Talk about a global warming nightmare.”

“You have to find another option.”

“I’m trying to swap toads on him, but I have to find Grundle’s bones, or the jig is up. Help me at least find the bones. I don’t know where they are.”

“I cannot continue to put myself at risk, to cure the two of you of your case of the stupids,” she said. “I’m already pushing the boundaries.”

“Are you kidding me?! You’ve barely been any help at all!”

She pointed at me. “Gus is only my concern insofar as he affects
you
. You stay out of it, you hear me? If you can’t stop him, then leave him to his fate and step away. Don’t try to save him.”

As she vanished, I heard a floorboard creak downstairs. I quickly put the tarot cards back in their bag, returned it to its cubby and slipped out of Gus’s bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t realize I had been snooping through his stuff.

But when I turned around, he was standing right there, holding an enormous carrier bag and glaring at me.

Crap.

Chapter 27

“G
us! You look better. Are you feeling better? I was worried about you.”

“Is that why you were in my room?” Gus asked, his eyes so cold, I involuntarily took a step back.

“Yes… and no. I was talking to Aunt Tillie,” I said. And then mentally kicked myself for not just going with
yes.
After all, it was true. Just not all the way true.

“In my room?” he repeated.

“We were talking about you. She still wants you to call off the ritual.”

“Not a chance.” Gus snorted. “What were you really doing?”

The enormous carrier bag started moving.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked. And promptly sneezed.

“I asked you first.”

“I answered you. I was talking to Aunt Tillie.” I sneezed again. “Are you going to tell me what’s in the bag or not?”

“A fur-covered favor. You can talk to your Aunt Tillie anywhere you happen to be. Care to elaborate on why that had to be in my room?”

The bag started meowing.

“Are those… cats?” I kept my eyes fixed on the carrier—it was better than looking at Gus. That must be why I was sneezing.

“Two sweet, innocent kittens. Barely a few months old.”

“Two kittens, my ass,” I said and sneezed. “That bag’s big enough to fit an entire litter of Dobe puppies.”

“They’re big kittens.” They moved around again, the bag sagging under their weight.

“Where’d you get them from? Chernobyl? Three-mile island?”

“You exaggerate, Miss Thing.”

“Look, I don’t care if they’re giant, genetically-modified cats, a gang of hairless Chihuahuas or two small miniature ponies, they can’t stay here. I’m pregnant and I think I’m allergic to them.”

“What the hell kind of witch are you?” Gus frowned. “You can’t be allergic to
cats
. Witches are
simpatico
with cats. Besides, you’ve never been allergic to cats before.”

I sneezed again. “Guess there’s a first time for everything. Why are they here at all? You can’t just unilaterally decide to bring home giant mutant cats.”

“They’re not mutants. They’re sick and Forrest can’t have pets at his place. I’m taking care of them until his stepsister can take them.”

“You know pregnant women are not supposed to go near litter boxes, right?”

“I do, now,” he said, sighing. “So much for asking you to help me.”

“And we have two Dobermans who have never seen cats. I have no idea what’s going to happen when they meet.”

“It’s temporary. They don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll keep them, and their allergens, and their litter box, in my room. You’ll never even know they’re here. Assuming
you
can stay out of my room.”

“What about boarding them?”

“Forrest tried. It didn’t work out.”

The yowls and growls coming out of the bag didn’t sound very kittenish. I tried to use my ‘sight’ to poke around, but all I could see were two, large spotted stomachs—one white, one bronze.

The cats screeched in protest at my intrusion, and I felt goosebumps rise on my arms. “Those aren’t normal cats.”

Gus looked down at the bag, and thought about how to answer.

“You may as well tell me. I’ll find out, sooner or later.”

He sighed and looked past me, at some point down the hall. “They’re… kind of…”

“What? They’re kind of what?!”

“They’re… Asian leopards,” he said, looking guilty. “Forrest’s stepsister wants to start a breeding colony. They’re a little… feral.”

Was
that
what I was feeling?

“Are you fucking insane?!” I yelled at him. “You brought home two baby leopards? Are you crazy? What if they eat the Dobes? What if they eat us?”

He thought about it. “They probably won’t. They’re still young.”

“Have you ever even owned a normal cat before? Do you have any idea how to care for one?”

“I’m sure it’s not difficult. Witches have a natural affinity for cats. Besides, they’re only visiting. They’re not staying.” Gus said.

“They’ve already been here too long.” I sneezed.

“In case you forgot, we’re sharing this house, Miss Thing. You’re not the only one making decisions. Now, why don’t we get back to why you were in my room.”

I shuffled through one lie after another in my head—
I was looking for the remote, I thought I’d do your laundry, the door flew open on its own
—and discarded them all. The problem with talking to another witch, is that they can always tell when you’re lying. It gets annoying.

I sneezed again and finally said: “I was looking for the toad bones.”

“They’re not in my room.”

“I noticed. They’re not outside either.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Where are they?” I asked.

“None of your business, Ms. Nosy Parker.”

I tried to tune into the images in his head, to get the answer he wasn’t willing to tell me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you think I’m a neophyte?” He snapped, and blocked me from his thoughts before I saw much of anything.

Damn it.
That was stupid of me.

“If I have to guard my thoughts from you, then maybe it’s time we re-think this arrangement. Because I will
not
live like that.”

“I’m sorry.” I said, my cheeks flushing red. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damned right it won’t.”

Gus pushed past me, then turned back around. “What’s with you, anyway? We both agreed that the Toad Bone Ritual was a fitting tribute to Grundleshanks, rather than just letting him rot. Besides, we don’t have a choice. That ritual needs to happen. So I don’t understand why you’re so hell-bent on stopping me. And don’t tell me it’s your Aunt Tillie. She hasn’t been around since she crossed over. I would know.”

My mouth opened and closed a few times. What could I say? It totally was Aunt Tillie. She didn’t just push my fear buttons, she danced a jig on them.

But why couldn’t Gus see her? How could I convince him that his sight was on the blink? Unless he was right, and my imagination was on overdrive? I didn’t think I was imagining her though—or what had happened at the cemetery supper, or in Gus’s room.

“I’m afraid,” I finally said. “You saw how sick you got last night. What if this ritual actually is capable of destroying you? Even if you don’t think Aunt Tillie is really here, what if there’s a reason that thought keeps popping up in my head, dressed in Aunt Tillie’s skin? I like what we have. I don’t want anything to change.”

“Then you’d better take a snapshot, Miss Thing. The only thing the future is guaranteed to bring is change. The cauldron is always bubbling. Change is the very essence of life.”

And with that, he stomped into his room and slammed the door in my face.

Chapter 28

I
stood there for a few minutes, shocked. I hated being at odds with Gus. I’d never seen that coldness in his eyes before, and it creeped me out.

Then I heard a screech and a yowl from Gus’s room, followed by a string of cuss words. So, I hustled my butt out of there. Last thing I needed was Gus thinking I had been standing there, eavesdropping on him and his feline monsters.

*     *     *

I grabbed my car keys and was about to leave to pick up my prenatal vitamins, when I got the oddest sensation from the cottage. It was wary about something.

I quieted my breathing and tried to sense what was causing the wards to get prickly. It was coming from the front yard.

I looked out the window and saw J.J., the stoner clerk from the Trading Post, walking up the front stairs, then back down and out to the street. Then he took a running start back up the stairs, his black Doc Marten boots thumping on the wood, only to stop before he hit the door, and run back down to the street.

I figured I’d better stop whatever he was doing, before the cottage decided he was a two-footed missile and turned him into a rhododendron.

I opened the door. “J.J., what in the world are you up to?”

He screeched to a halt and whirled around, whipping his stringy hair out of his eyes. “Oh, Dudette. You are here. I need you to do me a solid, but like, I’m scared shitless of your house.”

I could understand that. The cottage had turned J.J.’s great-great-grandfather into a rowan tree, when he tried to set fire to the place.

“Then stop poking the wards. Come in and act like a normal person.”

J.J. cautiously sidled up to the door, like he was worried the cottage would grow arms and grab him.

I yanked him inside. “Would you stop annoying my house,” I said. “Before it turns you into an end table?”

His eyes got big and the blood rushed from his face. “Maybe we could talk later. Like, maybe you can come by the Trading Post?”

“You’re here now,” I said. “The cottage has let you in. Talk to me before it changes its mind.”

He looked around, nervous, and edged closer to me. The smell of cigarettes, stale sweat and body odor was suddenly overwhelming. I ran for the bathroom.

*     *     *

When I came back out, J.J. looked like he was on the verge of passing out from fear.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling my hair back into a pony tail. “The perils of pregnancy. What can I help you with?”

“Nothing. I’m good. See you later.” He took off, running out the front door, down the stairs, down the walk and into the street.

I sighed. What a weird kid. I looked out the window, but he was long gone. So, I went out back to check on the puppies. They were ready to come in.

I lured them into my bedroom with puppy treats, and they promptly settled down on top of my bed. I petted them and left, locking the bedroom door behind me, to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally open. I wasn’t worried about Gus going in my room, I was worried about his baby leopards escaping and going on the prowl for a snack-sized canine.

Then I went down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. That’s when I noticed J.J. sneaking around in the back yard. It looked like he was trying to be stealthy. He had pulled his hood up over his head, to make himself less noticeable. But the huge KISS logo on the back, and the stained cargo pants with bulging pockets, gave him away.

I slipped on my gym shoes, then grabbed my shoulder bag and car keys. He was up to something, and I was going to find out what.

*     *     *

J.J. walked bent over, a magnifying glass to his eye, looking for something. He was so focused on what he was doing, he didn’t notice me standing on the back porch, watching him.

He wasn’t really going all that fast, mainly because he wasn’t moving in a straight line. He was meandering in a serpentine. More than a few times, he came dangerously close to walking into a tree. When he moseyed on down the path, I followed.

I was able to track him pretty easily. He was so totally immersed in whatever it was he was doing, he had no idea I was behind him.

When he cautiously entered the family cemetery, searching around the tombstones, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Did you lose something?” I asked.

J.J. screamed and fell backwards over a tombstone, landing on top of my Great-Uncle Bertram’s grave. Then he screamed again.

“Would you stop that? It’s just me.”

J.J. kept screaming, until he was able to locate me, standing next to the angel statue at Lisette’s grave.

“Snap out of it before I slap you. I’m not a ghost. If you don’t believe me, I’ll be happy to kick you in your goonies.”

His hands crossed over his crotch and he sniffled. “Dudette. It really is you. I thought I was hallucinating. I hate this place. Who the hell has their own cemetery?”

“Then what are you doing here?” I asked, as I walked over and gave him a hand up. “I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah… I thought I’d pay my respects to your Aunt Tillie before I go.” He said, brushing dirt off his pants and trying hard to look bashful and earnest.