What's a Witch to Do Part 10

"Do you want me to escort you there?"

"No, the streets are filled with people, I'll be fine. You better go or you'll miss their bus."

He nods. I put on my coat and take a step to leave. "Mona?" he asks. I turn around. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't-"

"I know. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lost it like that. I'm just on edge." I give him a quick smile. "Don't let them have too much sugar, or you'll really feel my wrath."

"I definitely don't want that," he says with a smile back.

"I'll be home about four thirty." I wave and step out.

No one attacks me as I walk down Courtland Street toward Goodnight City Hall, the oldest building in town. Two of the people I'm helping honor this week, Courtland Goode and John Knight, constructed it three hundred fifty years ago when they first settled here. They and their families landed with the rest of the colonists but quickly broke away from the others, migrating west until Anne Knight-daughter of John and my great-to-the-twentieth-power-grandmother-told them to stop when she sensed the ley lines.

The town really owes itself to Courtland and Anne. The legend goes that John Knight, a witch in England, had two daughters: Anne and Mary. When one of their neighbors saw Anne literally playing with fire, the entire extended family fled before she was accused of witchcraft and hung. On the pa.s.sage over Anne Knight met Courtland Goode, the handsome reverend's son, and they fell madly in love despite the popular belief that witches were the sp.a.w.n of the devil. That rumor was most likely started by an actual demon, not that it mattered. Millions of witches were killed in the most heinous ways, and to this day we're feared and reviled. But none of this mattered to Courtland. He saw past the prejudice to the woman underneath. Courtland left behind his family-h.e.l.l, everything he ever believed in-for Anne. From them came the town. And me.

City Hall is a two-story brick building with a bronze bust of Anne out front. Originally they wanted a statue of John and Courtland, but my great-great-grandmother Ramona led a protest down the street to have it changed to Anne. Except for sleeping with a drug-addicted crazy man, she was a woman after my own heart.

The six other committee members stand or sit around a table in the conference room. We've been working for months to pull this festival together. Like most things in this town, the government is run by the women. Magdalena Rogers, our mayor of ten years, is at the head of the committee with Eileen Merriman and Yvonne Cliff, both retired schoolteachers, doing the brunt of the work. My old cla.s.smate Jocelyn and I basically a.s.sist them when needed. Erica, who now sits at the table, manicured fingers tapping away on her iPhone, left the planning and execution to us. She just connected us with the concession company and donated ten grand for cleanup.

I smile at Jocelyn as I enter but make a beeline for my glamorous cousin. Like Shirley, she's descended from Ramona's sister Gillian, so we're distant cousins. It shows. Ms. Erica Fitch is tall and thin with flaming red hair and brown eyes. It's easy to see why she attracts the attention of powerful men, including vampires. There isn't an inch of her that isn't coiffed, tight, or manmade to look beautiful. As I sit, her eyes acknowledge me, but nothing more. "Afternoon," I say.

"Afternoon," Erica says coolly as she puts away her phone.

"I don't know about you, but I'll be glad when this festival's over."

"Me too. Of course then I have this ma.s.sive silent auction I'm helping out with at the end of the month. I know I'm spreading myself too thin, but I'm such a giver, you know? How can you not help those who can't help themselves?"

Oh gag me. "Are you coming to the coven meeting Sat.u.r.day? Or the wedding?"

"The wedding, yes. I've been friends with the Walkers for ages. I hope you won't be offended if I sit on their side at the wedding."

Where all the posh people will sit instead of us country b.u.mpkins. "Of course not, but I'm barely even thinking of the wedding. I have serious co-op problems."

"Oh? Did those evil doggies give you fleas?"

"No, actually it's our pale friend in Richmond."

"Tommy?" she asks with surprise.

"Yeah. He's been making noises about withdrawing his support and telling others to do the same. I've been trying to call him, but he won't return my calls. You know him, right?"

"We have met on a few occasions," she says with a private smile, no doubt reliving their s.e.xual Olympics.

"Well, Alejandro called me Friday night, and I've been leaving messages for him as well." I gaze at her to gage her reaction, but she remains impa.s.sive. Could just be the Botox. "I really, really need Thomas to call me back. This affects the entire coven. I hate to ask, but can you have him contact me?"

"What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"You can be very persuasive, Erica. It doesn't even have to be him, you can try Alejandro. Just one phone call. Please? For the coven?"

Okay, my logic behind this gambit is that if she wants me dead, there's no way in h.e.l.l she'll waste a precious second of her time doing me this favor. And since her murder plot went awry, she'd stay as far away from Thomas as possible. On the other hand, if they are lovers, she'll jump at a chance to call him, even for me. So if she calls him, she's probably innocent. If she doesn't, then she's either a b.i.t.c.h or wants to kill me. Miss Marple, eat your heart out.

"Of course I will," Erica says with a gracious smile. "Anything for the coven."

Mayor Magda hustles in, her arms filled with file folders. We, being good minions, snap to. Those standing quickly find seats as our taskmaster hands us each a file. We go over the order of events, all our specific jobs from here on in, the progress of the mural for the pageant. After twenty minutes of discussion of who is providing what for the silent auction at the country club, I feel like stabbing myself in the eye with a pencil. Quite a few times, I glare at the oblivious Magda for roping me into this. She cornered me at the grocery store and pretty much told me she was recruiting me for this committee. She is not a woman a person says no to, which makes her a good mayor.

"In other news," Magda says, "I was at the Goodnight Museum where DJ Ray from WQRG was broadcasting and promoting the festival this week. The museum had record numbers of attendees this week and tomorrow's performance of The Crucible is sold out. And both the bake sale and arts and crafts fair were rousing successes. We also forecast making ten thousand dollars at the bachelorette auction on Wednesday. We've had fourteen partic.i.p.ants sign up, including our very own Erica Fitch and former homecoming queen Naomi Ferguson."

We clap at this stunning achievement. "And please know I have been promoting the heck out of this event too," Erica says, "both in town and Richmond. I am more than sure we will surpa.s.s our goal." On her alone, she no doubt adds in her head.

"And thank you, Erica, for organizing the event," Magda adds. "I'll meet with you on Wednesday to coordinate at the club. I think that's it. We seem to have everything well in hand. If I have any follow-up, I will call you. See you all on Thursday for prep."

We all stand and Jocelyn mutters to me, "That's over an hour of my life I'd like back."

I chuckle as I push in my chair. "Hey, can you give me a ride home?"

"Sure," Jocelyn says.

Erica begins tottering away on her five-hundred-dollar heels. "Just give me a sec, okay?" I rush after Erica, tapping her on the shoulder. She spins around. "I ... " Okay, do I really want to do this? It has a huge potential to blow up in my face, making me the laughingstock of the town. Or worse, it could break my heart. But Daddy didn't raise no coward. "I want to sign up for the bachelorette auction."

Her eyes just about bug out of her head. "What? Really? You?"

"Yeah. It's not too late, is it?"

"What-You-What," she stammers. "Are you sure? I mean, you ... I don't think it's your scene, Mona. Most of the men attending are, well, not your type. You wouldn't enjoy yourself." She pats my shoulder. "I'm just looking out for you."

I so want to punch her surgically altered nose, but being a lady I instead plaster a smile on my face. "That's really sweet of you. Really. But I promised a certain gentleman I would partic.i.p.ate, and I cannot bring myself to let him down. I'm sure you understand."

"And who is this gentleman?"

My smile grows wider. "Let me sign up and see."

Erica's eyes narrow as she tries to figure out my angle. As if I'd sabotage her event. "Well, it's your life, Mona. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Though it sickens me, I hug her tiny form. "Thank you, Erica." I let her tense body go. "I really appreciate it. Don't forget to call Thomas for me! See you Wednesday!"

I rush over to the confused Jocelyn waiting for me by the door. "What on earth was that about?"

"A leap of faith."

Witchcraft for dummies Ah, just what every woman wants to be greeted by after a long day: the noise of a band saw. The whirring grows louder as I enter the house. Auntie Sara pounces on me the moment I shut the door.

"Is he going to continue with that racket during the cla.s.s?" she shouts. "I cannot stand it a moment longer!"

I set my bag down and start toward the source of the noise, the backyard. Auntie Sara has begun setup for the cla.s.s in the living room, dining room, and kitchen by laying down plastic sheets on all tables and setting out extra copies of the lesson. In half an hour there will be twenty witches here, and there isn't a single one who isn't messy. We used to meet at the high school chemistry lab, but then the old princ.i.p.al retired and the new one is a Baptist and didn't want evil spread through his high school-his words, not mine. So I sacrificed my upholstery and carpet for the furtherment of education. I should put a curse on that d.a.m.n princ.i.p.al.

When I get outside, with Auntie Sara right on my heels, I find Adam behind Papa's old wooden stand using an electric saw to cut planks of wood. There's a whole stack of them off to the side. He's not the only one hard at work. Sitting in the gra.s.s, Sophie and Cora have their own project, painting lumber with dark varnish and deep concentration, as if they were working on a masterpiece.

Adam shuts off the saw when he notices me and takes off his safety gla.s.ses. "Oh hey."

"Aunt Mona, we're painting!" Cora says with a huge grin.

"I see that."

"Before we went to the grocery store, we stopped by the Home Depot and got the wood for the shelves," Adam says. "Had a little luck too. They had some already cut to fit the bookcase. The girls are working on those now."

"You went grocery shopping too?" I ask.

"They were right next door to each other," Adam says.

"Oh, well, thank you," I say, most impressed for some reason.

"You're welcome," he says with a nod.

"Young man, are you going to-" Auntie Sara starts.

The man completed my most hated ch.o.r.e; I'm not going to have him lectured. "Auntie Sara, can you please finish setting up?" I ask with a sweet smile. "Everyone should be arriving soon. I'll be in there in a minute."

"Fine," she says, still eyeing Adam, who holds his pleasant facade. She retreats inside.

"That woman does not like me," Adam says when she's out of earshot. "She barely let me in the house when we came home. Then she tried to grill me about myself. That's when I started sawing."

"She's just protective."

"I can appreciate that. How'd your meeting go?"

"Dull, but Erica was there in all her b.i.t.c.hy glory. I asked her to call Thomas for me."

"Think she will?"

"If she's innocent, she will. And as much as I can't stand her, I don't think she's the one. Being High Priestess is all about respect and guiding others, and Erica wants precious little to do with us lowly small-town folk."

"Just don't let your guard down around her," Adam warns.

"Speaking of, both Collins and Cheyenne will be here shortly. Can you keep an eye on the girls in case the spells. .h.i.t the fan?"

"Sure thing."

"Thanks," I say as I reach across and rub his hard biceps in appreciation. His body jerks in surprise as if I've just electrocuted him. I quickly pull away. "Sorry. Sorry, I just thought because werewolves like to be touched-"

"No, no, it's fine. It's fine," he mutters, embarra.s.sed to h.e.l.l. "I'm just going to get some water. Excuse me." He all but flees inside.

Okay, no idea what that was about. Note to self: don't touch him. I turn my attention to the girls, walking over and sitting on the gra.s.s next to them. "How was school?"

"Boring," Sophie says.

"I got a check plus on my spelling test," Cora says.

"That's great. And did you have fun with Adam?"

"He let me get Twinkies," Cora says, "and Oreos."

"He did, huh?" I ask, petting her hair before I stand. "Well, you have fun painting. I have cla.s.s. You two stay here and keep working."

Adam walks back out with three juice boxes. We pa.s.s each other, but he just nods. "For my a.s.sistants," he says as I step inside.

I barely have time to change clothes and grab a snack from my now fully stocked fridge before my students start arriving. The majority of them are younger and female, from sixteen to twenty-five, with a few exceptions on both accounts. It's open to everyone, but since I mainly do beginner potions, the more advanced witches approach me one-on-one for help. As they set up their mixing bowls, I move from room to room to check on them. The s.p.a.ce at the kitchen counter with a perfect view of the backyard is the first to fill up. The ladies are doing less prep and more staring out the window and whispering about the man measuring and marking lumber. One eligible bachelor comes to town, and all the women go into heat.

"Oh please tell me he isn't a cousin," Belle says to Meg.

I needed a reason to pull them aside to grill them about Cheyenne. This'll do. "Belle, Meg, I need you two to come with me right now, please," I order.

The girls, both in their early twenties and pet.i.te, exchange a worried look but follow me out of the kitchen and up to my office. "Are we in trouble?" Meg asks when she walks in.

"No," I say as I shut the door. "I just need to speak with you."

"What about?" Belle asks.

"Cheyenne. In the past month, a few people have come to me with rumors about you two, her, and black magic. I want to hear your side before I decide what to do."

All the color drains out of their faux tan faces as they exchange another petrified look. "We-we don't know what you're talking about," Meg says.

"If you come clean now, I will take that into consideration, and what you tell me goes no further than this room."

They glance at each other again. "You'll, like, give us immunity or whatever?" Belle asks.

"Immunity?"

"Like if we confess you won't kick us out of the coven?" Belle asks.

"It was Cheyenne's idea, anyway," Meg adds. "We didn't want to. Honest!"

"We were just kind of bored," Belle says. "And we didn't hurt anyone. It didn't work."

"What exactly did you girls do?"

"We were hanging over at Cheyenne's, like, two months ago," Meg begins. "She said she found this grimoire with these awesome spells inside. Stuff you wouldn't teach us, so we thought we'd try one out."

"It was just a little hex," Belle adds. "We tried it on Brittney to give her some boils because she was flirting with Cheyenne's boyfriend earlier, but it didn't work. We're so sorry. Please don't kick us out! We'll never try black magic again, we promise."

"What else was in the grimoire?"

"Bad stuff," Belle says. "Stuff to trap spirits and jinxes and ones that required animal sacrifices."

"Was it hand-written or a printed book?"

"It was a small black notebook with spells written or glued in," Meg says.

"Do you know if she still has it, or if she's tried other black magic spells?"