toad witch 04 - aunt tilly were canning demons Page 3

  “You know what I love about you, Tillie? You never let truth stand in the way of a good defense,” Gus said.

  Aunt Tillie glared at him, her eyes snapping fire, before she changed the subject. “Why don’t we get that odd child to stay here with Mara? The one who’s been planting his drugs in my garden.”

  “J.J.?” I asked, surprised. “Last time he was here, he got turned into a rat and was put in a cage. I seriously doubt he’s coming back.” I suddenly wondered if that was where Gus had gotten the idea for his Lupercalia cage. At least we hadn’t been the ones responsible for turning J.J. into a rat.

  “Hold the bong and pass the kutchie,” Gus said. “I thought we burned all his weed, Tillie. Is there more left?”

  Aunt Tillie seemed to shrug, which was an impressive feat, since the skull didn’t have shoulders. “Maybe she can stay with that nincompoop she’s been dating,” Aunt Tillie said. “Her, the dogs and your zombie toad. He can take the whole kit and kaboodle.”

  The nincompoop would be Paul, my on-again/off-again boyfriend, and the (debatable) father to my baby. We were currently off-again, since he was being an absolute idiot over whether I was carrying a human baby or some weird demon baby. Just because I got knocked up while he was possessed. He was refusing to step up until he was sure the baby was human.

  I shook my head. “Me staying with Paul wouldn’t end well. It would completely freak him out, and I would be forced to clobber him senseless.”

  “You need to make more friends,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’m in complete agreement about you not going to Los Angeles, but twinkle-toes over there is right. You can’t stay here by yourself.”

  Gus brightened up. “Why don’t I drive to Los Angeles with Tillie, and when we’re about a day out, I’ll have a car service pick you up, drive you to the Milwaukee airport, and deal with the luggage. You can fly from there into LAX.”

  “That’ll be expensive.” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Not as much as a week at a hotel. Besides, isn’t that what credit cards are for?” Gus asked, grinning.

  “How do we keep getting back to me flying alone? It’s not happening,” I said.

  Gus blew out an exasperated breath. “It’s better than you staying here alone, giving birth in the middle of the frozen tundra. Unable to call for help, because the power went out. Slowly freezing to death with your baby.”

  “Whoa! Slow your roll there, sunshine. I’ll be just fine here, on my own. Devil’s Point may be a small town, but it’s not Little House on the Prairie.”

  Devil’s Point was more of a village than a town. But Oldfield bordered us to the west and was considerably larger. It had a population of 25,000 and they’d been working on building a state-of-the-art medical center since before we moved here.

  Gus frowned at me. “Have you looked at your belly lately? That baby is the size of a linebacker. It’s going to walk out of your not-so-happy-anymore place and kick the doctor’s ass.” Gus looked at me, mulling it over. “How about…we ship Aunt Tillie’s skull via UPS, and the two of us fly together?”

  Aunt Tillie gasped. “You are not shipping my skull anywhere. It’s not a box of books or a vacuum. My skull is fragile.”

  “We can cushion it in bubble wrap,” Gus said.

  “Besides which, I’m claustrophobic,” Aunt Tillie said, looking pissed.

  “You’re a spirit. You exist in a non-dimensional world,” Gus said.

  “Fat lot you know,” she grumbled.

  “Well, we have to come up with something. Because right now, it looks like I’m going to have to leave one of you behind. And Mara amuses me more than you do.”

  Aunt Tillie glared at me. “Maybe Mara should get over herself and act like an adult. Maybe someone should remember they’re a witch and not a sycamore.”

  What I wanted to do was scream at her. Or threaten to dump her skull in a landfill if she kept ragging on me. Instead, what I heard my mouth say, was: “Let me sleep on it.”

  Crap.

  I HAD to get out of the cottage, before they sucked me into their crazy Los Angeles Or Bust plans. So, I took the Dobes for a walk, to our private cemetery. Normally, I’d bundle up first, but the heat radiating out of my body kept me so toasty warm, all I needed was a light jacket.

  I must have walked for an hour, but I still hadn’t come up with a way to get out of the trip by the time I returned home.

  The cottage downstairs was weirdly quiet and cold and dark. Gus was nowhere to be seen. Even Aunt Tillie seemed to have gone off somewhere. I turned on the lights and started a fire.

  The Dobes were soaking wet after playing in the snow, so I towel-dried them, which they loved—they were all happy, panting, grins, galloping in circles and chasing their tails by the time I was done. They finally plopped down in front of the fire to get warm.

  I heard a thump upstairs and I finally found Gus, in my room, packing my suitcase. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

  He held up a red sweater. “Seriously? Are you planning to try out for a Fruit of the Loom commercial? Or do you just like looking like a tomato? Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to lose any more respect for you, than I already have. I’m not packing that monstrosity.”

  “You’re not packing anything,” I said. “Put my stuff back.”

  He tossed the sweater into the trash bin.

  I gave him a dirty look.

  “What? It’s where it belongs.”

  I snatched the sweater out of the trash and dropped it into the laundry hamper. “It’s warm and it fits.”

  Gus sized me up. “I doubt it. You really need to go through your crap and donate everything. You’re seriously underestimating how much weight you’ve gained.”

  “I am not,” I snapped, then I stopped. “Okay, yes, maybe I am, and I do need to donate stuff, but I don’t need to do that now. Besides, we don’t know what weight I’ll wind up at, after the baby’s born.”

  Gus slid out my unmentionables drawer and dumped everything into the suitcase.

  “Would you stop that?!”

  “No can do, Miss Thing. Time is of the essence.”

  I pulled the drawer away from him and slid it back into my dresser. “No, it’s not. Mama Lua’s lack of friends is not our emergency.”

  “I beg to differ.” Gus tossed an armload of my maternity shirts into the suitcase.

  I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes, exasperated. “Have a good trip. I’m staying here. She scares me.”

  Gus closed the suitcase lid and sat on it, to fasten it shut. “I am not leaving my pregnant best friend in the middle of Podunk-McFreezerville with six-foot snow drifts and freezing cold temperatures.”

  “Whose fault is that? I’m not the one who did an impromptu ritual, stomping around in the Winter Queen’s territory.”

  Gus frowned. “That was months ago.”

  “Yes, it was. And we’re still in the middle of winter, thank you very much.”

  “Exactly my point. What happens if the SUV stops running? You can’t cross-country ski to the grocery store. And the way you’re eating for ten, you’ll be too fat to see your feet, so there’s no way you’re getting snowshoes on.”

  “Hey!” I protested. “I’m not eating for ten. Three, max. Maybe five. Ten is pushing it.”

  Gus rolled his eyes. “Listen, Selfish McQueenie, we owe Mama Lua. Or have you forgotten?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten,” I snapped. “How can I, when you remind me every five minutes? I just don’t want to do it. She’s got to have other friends. And by that, I mean, other than you.” There had to be someone else who could help Mama Lua.

  “No one who owes her the way we do,” Gus said, giving me an annoyed look. “She doesn’t have anyone else she trusts as much as she trusts me, and by extension, you. She’s counting on us. So, stop being difficult and face up to your responsibilities.”

  “When you say, help her out, we’d be spending all day in the store?”

  “You can’t run the stor
e without being in the store.” Gus tilted his head and looked at me, with one of those you’re-a-big-baby-but-I’m-hoping-you’ll-grow-up-soon looks.

  “Stop it,” I said. “I am not being unreasonable. Neither of us have an apartment in Los Angeles any more. What are we supposed to do—live in her creepy old store?” Shopping at The Crooked Pantry was spooky enough. The thought of having to stay there made me want to throw up.

  “Of course not. We’ll be staying at her place, while she’s gone. She lives in the cottage next door.”

  I gave a strangled scream. “Like that’s any better?!” I shoved him out of my bedroom, then closed and locked the door behind him. “Go away and let me think!”

  To my surprise, he actually did.

  UNFORTUNATELY, there was no lock strong enough to keep Aunt Tillie out of my room. That’s the problem with ghosts—they’re not constrained by the laws of physics.

  I was in the middle of a great dream, on the beach in Hawaii, watching a child playing in the surf, while a hunky guy was looking at me as if I was the cherry on his hot fudge sundae. He leaned in to kiss me. But just as our lips touched for the sweetest of seconds…

  His face morphed into Aunt Tillie’s.

  I screamed and my eyes snapped open.

  “Rude!” I croaked, as I sat up. I looked at my watch. It was ridiculous-o’clock in the morning. The sun wasn’t even awake yet. “You enjoyed ruining my dream. You’re just mean.”

  Aunt Tillie was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking inordinately pleased with herself. “I got your attention, didn’t I?”

  I pulled the covers up and narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s bad enough I have no actual love life, ruining my fantasy life is…beyond cruel.”

  My Aunt Tillie had been, by all accounts, a sweet old lady while she was alive, loved and cherished by all who met her. After she died though, she developed a little bit of a homicidal streak—and it was usually targeted at me. Her wrath wasn’t exactly unjustified, but you’d think she’d get over it at some point. That she’d return to being the sweet pillar of the community everyone had told me about. But no, she was still the same pain-in-the-ass spirit. At least she wasn’t poltergeisting our cottage anymore, and pelting me with sharp objects.

  Aunt Tillie moved closer. The cold radiating from her made me shiver, which surprised me. Normally, even in single-digit weather, I have to sleep with the window partially open or I wake up, sweating. It’s why Gus finally stopped crashing in my room. Even the Dobermans followed him to warmer pastures, the little traitors.

  “You need to grow up and stop being so stubborn.”

  “I don’t need to do anything, other than have this baby.”

  “For heaven’s sake, girl. Use your common sense. Look at the size of your belly. You have problem pregnancy and difficult labor written all over you. Goddess knows I could use a break from you. I don’t want you to come with us to Los Angeles, but you can’t be alone right now.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “They’ve been building a brand new medical center and hospital in Oldfield. State of the art. That’s where I’ve been having my ob-gyn appointments.”

  “Too bad the hospital won’t be finished until next year. Your baby’s life depends on you being smart for a change.”

  I felt my heart skip a beat. Did she know something that I didn’t? A wave of nausea hit as Aunt Tillie leaned closer, and I grabbed for the small trash can I kept next to the bed, in case of emergencies. I know it’s gross, but when you’re pregnant, you don’t always have time to make it to the bathroom.

  She stepped back and continued, thinking out loud. “I have some friends in Illinois who have a B&B. They have a niece your age.”

  “I don’t need anyone to babysit me,” I said, when I could talk again.

  She clucked, annoyed. “I forget the problem with you mouth-breathers is how limited your sight is.”

  “What does that mean?!”

  But with that veiled comment, she faded out.

  AFTER I WASHED out the trash can, I sat down on my bed, trying to figure out how to calm my anxiety about this trip. It would help if I could see how the plane ride was going to go.

  When I was a little girl, I would put a record on my dad’s stereo and walk around the dining room table in a circle, for hours. Eventually, my sight, or my imagination as I called it back then, would kick in and I could see what was going to happen in the future. I didn’t have a record player anymore—really, how many people did? But I had an iPod with mini-speakers.

  Gus had a scrying mirror downstairs, but I usually needed something more visually-evocative, like tarot cards, or coffee grounds, or even candle wax. Either that, or I needed to do something mundane with my body, like stirring fake entrails (long story), while casting my mind out into the ether. Something that would occupy me physically, while leaving my inner sight free to travel.

  I wandered downstairs to the library/music room, mulling it over. I kept coming back to the idea of using Gus’s scrying mirror. I sighed and gave in. Maybe this time would be different. Ever since the baby was conceived, my abilities seemed to be amplified. It was like the baby was somehow working with me. Maybe the baby was where the impetus for the scrying mirror was coming from.

  I SET the iPod on top of the piano and programmed it to go through a classical play list. I picked up Gus’s scrying mirror and put it in the center of the room. I cast a circle for protection and lit two candles, one in front of the mirror and one behind it.

  As I sat on the floor, staring at the mirror, it didn’t take long for my body relax into the monotony. My eyes went out of focus and the mirror turned into a tunnel of dancing black particles, as my mind separated out and started floating.

  I cast my sight into the future, focusing on the flight to Los Angeles. I saw some turbulence when the plane took off, and more turbulence over the southwestern states, but the plane landed in Los Angeles in one piece. So, it was going to be a scary, nerve-wracking journey, but we would get there okay.

  Then, I focused on the baby and tried to follow the thread of what was in store for us, if I stayed here.

  There was a man in the room. He was older, kind of shifty looking, dressed in blue, with small, round granny glasses. I must have been laying down, because he was looming over me. He raised his hand, and I could see light glinting off the blade of the knife he was holding. I didn’t have time to scream before he plunged it down, into my belly.

  I gasped and came out of the trance. I turned the iPod off, my hands shaking. Damn it.

  I WAS STILL SHAKING after I finished packing. I wished the Dobes were here to keep me company, but they were bunking with Gus, and his door was closed.

  I put on a coat and gloves, and went outside to wait for the sunrise. The lake still had islands of ice floating on it, and the birds hadn’t returned from their winter migration. It was as if they were clued into the weather reports, instead of the length of daylight.

  In the pre-dawn quiet, a lone grey wolf loped out of the woods and stopped, looking at me.

  “You’re not supposed to be in my yard. Get back to your cubs. Go on.”

  But the wolf walked closer, until it was barely a few feet away. It stopped and carefully appraised me. I stood there, calmly, thinking how beautiful it looked, with its fur glowing in the moonlight.

  “Go on, get out of here,” I finally said, pushing out a thought image of the wolf returning to the woods. “You know you can’t be here. You don’t belong by the cottage.”

  The wolf bent its head in acknowledgement. Then, slowly, it turned and loped back into the forest.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I don’t know why I hadn’t been scared when the wolf was standing next to me. I just hadn’t. It didn’t dawn on me until after it had left, that I could just as easily have been its breakfast.

  I stood and watched as the sun rose, turning the sky into a multi-hued work of wonder. After the show was done, I turned and headed back into the cottage. The wolf didn’
t return.

  INSIDE THE COTTAGE, I was surprised to see a partially empty cricket container next to Grundle-Z’s tank. That toad must be eating like crazy to get through half the container already. Is that what happened when a spirit reanimated a body? It needed more energy to sustain it? I eyeballed the toad and he eyeballed me back.

  “No brain cravings, right?” I asked him. “You’ll let me know, the minute you you have any?”

  Grundle-Z didn’t say anything, but he blinked. And then he ate a cricket that was exploring his tank. So, I decided to take that as a yes.

  I opened the shades and looked out the windows. The snow was sparkling under the morning sun’s rays. Everything was alive and moving. Except for Gus, who was still asleep. Since I was wide awake and still craving one of Ruby’s sundaes, I grabbed the car keys from the hook.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Missy?” Aunt Tillie asked.

  I yelped, startled. “Oh, dear Goddess. Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “I did, when I was alive. No point to sleeping now, is there?”

  “You can’t just be on twenty four-seven. Don’t spirits need any downtime?”

  “None of your business. Where are you going?”

  “None of your business,” I echoed back, feeling like a rebellious teenager. “What’s up with you and your sudden insistence on going to Los Angeles?”

  I could swear the skull blushed. “Can’t a person just want to go on vacation?”

  I thought about it. “Maybe. If they were alive. But isn’t it like a permanent vacation after you’re dead?”

  “There’s so much you don’t know,” Tillie said, giving me a look meant to convey her superiority.

  “I know more than you think. I know you never tell the truth if you can help it. I know you like your secrets. I know you’re crafty. And I know you only tolerate Gus for me, mostly. So, I don’t believe you’re suddenly jonesing to spend some quality alone time with him. Why don’t you want me in Los Angeles with you, Aunt Tillie?”