toad witch 04 - aunt tilly were canning demons Read online

  “Air travel is so rough on pregnant women. You should stay with my friends. Their B&B is much closer. Just a car ride away.” Aunt Tillie’s eyes positively lit up with hope.

  “No freaking way. You are not pawning me off on people I don’t know. Besides, I’m already packed. West Coast, here we come.”

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea? Knowing you, you’d put everyone on the plane at risk.”

  One of the more annoying things about being a witch is that electronics tend to behave oddly around us. Sometimes things work, sometimes they don’t, and sometimes they work differently than intended, as if they had taken on a life and personality of their own. It has to do with our personal magnetic field. Magic and electronics have a lot in common. And since they seem to share the same wavelength, they can short each other out.

  I didn’t believe for a second though, that Aunt Tillie was actually concerned about the other passengers. The only other time I had seen her get all weird and try to shut me down, was when I found out I had a half-brother somewhere. Was that it? Could he be in Los Angeles? I decided to poke at that button and see if I got a reaction.

  “I’ll sit in the tail section, away from the controls,” I said. “Besides, it’ll give me a chance to track down my brother. Big city like L.A. has to have some decent private detectives.”

  “You leave Vin—” she snapped before suddenly shutting up. I got a mental image of her mouth being sewn shut.

  “A-ha! That’s it, isn’t it? My brother, Vin, is somewhere in, or near, Los Angeles? Vin, right? That’s his name? Is it short for Vincent? Vincent McDougal?”

  She closed her eyes, and her face vanished from the front of the skull.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything,” I said to the skull. “You’ve already given me enough to work with. I’ll find out the rest on my own.”

  I felt a bolt of anger zip past me, and the lights flickered on and off. “You stay away from that man, or you’ll regret it,” Aunt Tillie’s disembodied voice whispered in my ear. A small statue dived off an end table, careened against my leg and broke on the floor.

  “Ow! Knock that off or I’m dropping your skull in the lake,” I told her.

  There were times when the dearly departed were a pain in the ass. I often found myself thinking that if an impromptu exorcism would get rid of my Aunt Tillie, I’d happy-dance her skull into the nearest Catholic church.

  I WAS ABOUT to leave when Gus finally came stumbling downstairs, followed by the Dobes, looking for their breakfast.

  He threw himself on a kitchen chair, thunking his elbow on the table. “Ow! Quick, minion. Hie thee to the coffee pot and bring me the nectar of the gods, before I injure any more body parts.”

  “Get it yourself,” I said.

  “I would,” he sighed, “but if I open my eyelids too quickly, I may bleed to death. And I’d hate to leave you with that mess.”

  I snorted, but I poured him a cup. He looked too pitiful not to. I didn’t think he’d be capable of getting Aramis and Apollo their breakfast any time soon, so I took care of that as well.

  “You went to bed before I did, and you woke up a hell of a lot later. How can you possibly be this tired?” I asked, as I put the cup of coffee—splash of milk, no sugar—in front of him.

  He gave me a bleary-eyed look and pulled the cup towards his face, inhaling the aroma. “Unlike you, Miss Thing, I have friends. Bed doesn’t necessarily mean sleep.”

  “You’ve been on the phone all night, sexting someone, haven’t you?”

  That got me another look. “No,” he sniffed. “There was also video involved.”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee as I thought about the vision from earlier. “I’ve decided I’m in, on this misbegotten trip of yours. Los Angeles or bust.”

  “I knew it! I figured you’d come around.”

  “But I am not taking care of her chickens.”

  “Deal,” Gus said. “I’ll handle any livestock.”

  “What are we going to do with the Dobes and Grundle-Z?”

  “I texted Paul last night. He’ll watch the lot for us. Even the feeder crickets.”

  I laughed. Contacting Paul must have cost Gus. Those two barely tolerated each other. Paul thought Gus was a freak and Gus thought Paul was an unforgivable wuss.

  “How in the world did you manage to get him to agree to that?”

  Gus shrugged and sipped his coffee. “I threatened him with weekend visitations when the baby got here. He’d much rather watch the dogs.”

  I sighed. Yup, that was Paul. “Don’t be too pleased with yourself. He’d choose waterboarding over babysitting duties. The big weenie.”

  Honestly, given all the supernatural craziness that was going on at the time of conception, I was pretty shocked that this baby not only implanted, but was alive, healthy and growing. In my mind, we should be counting our blessings.

  Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t entirely sure if I was going to be giving birth to a human child or some supernatural entity. I wasn’t too sure myself. The only difference between us, was that it didn’t bother me as much.

  Gus yawned. “I need to pick up more crickets. Grundle-Z is going through them like a chocoholic in a candy store.”

  “I noticed that. I can get them while I’m out. What are we going to do with Aunt Tillie? Are we going to Fed Ex her?”

  Gus yawned again, gulped down his coffee and held out the cup for a refill. “It said human passengers can’t bring skulls on board. It didn’t say anything about witches.”

  “What?” I asked, confused, as I poured him another cup.

  “I thought about what Tillie said last night. We’ve been acting like sycamores. We’re better than that. We’re witches. Fate is not the master of us, we are the masters of Fate.”

  “What does that mean, exactly, in this context?”

  “We put a little spell of invisibility on her skull, they’ll never notice it.”

  “What if it doesn’t work? They’ll confiscate her. Or arrest us. We’ll get on some no-fly list for the rest of our lives.”

  Gus raised an eyebrow. “On second thought, I’ll take care of getting Tillie’s skull through security, on my own. I don’t need your weird self-defeating energy messing with my spellcrafting.”

  “I need air,” I said, feeling a little light-headed. I pulled the car keys out of my pocket.

  For a change, Gus didn’t stop me. He just nodded and said “That’s probably for the best. I need to go book our flight. And don’t fret about Tillie. The worst that’ll happen is that we’ll have to put her in checked baggage.”

  I almost swallowed my tongue at that. “You’re the one who gets to explain that to her. If I tell her she’s going to travel in baggage, I’m likely to get walloped by a frying pan and wind up in a hospital.”

  He waved my concerns away. “You worry too much,” he said, as he ambled into the living room, to watch his morning cartoons.

  I grabbed my coat, went outside to the makeshift carport we had built, and took the blanket off the SUV. Next stop was Ruby’s Diner. There was a hot fudge sundae calling my name. I wonder if she knew of any private investigators I could talk to, to get tips on how to go about finding a missing person. Since Los Angeles was about to bring me closer to my half-brother, I was determined to find him. Aunt Tillie’s wishes be damned.

  CHAPTER 3

  I was driving down a snow-covered road, buttressed on either side by thick forest, when every instinct I had went on alert and I heard a voice yelling “Stop!”

  I stomped on the brakes. The SUV fishtailed into a spin, as I skidded around the bend. After a heart-pounding few seconds, the chains bit into the road and the SUV stopped. Just in time, too.

  A surging tidal wave of whitetail deer jumped, skittered and ran into the street in front of me, behind me, to the sides of me, hundreds of them, crossing from one side of the forest to the other, eerily majestic against the glittering snow. The car shook from the pounding of their ho
oves on the ground, as they ran.

  I closed my eyes and focused on transferring energy to the form I had created to protect the SUV: a huge coiled serpent, made out of the chaos of the abyss, puffing up bigger and bigger, providing a buffer around the SUV. When I opened my eyes, the deer still surged around me, but they were keeping a wider distance.

  A large, white buck stopped in the middle of the road. His magnificent rack of antlers was both wondrous and menacing. He was stunning to look at. As he turned and faced me, I hurriedly snapped a photo on my smart phone, before he turned and ran off with the rest of the herd.

  I snapped a few more photos of the deer crossing. A grey wolf and a white stag, all on the same morning. I wondered if it was some type of omen. White is the color of the Otherworld. Stag would be linked to Cernunnos. Wolf would be…who? Arienrhod? Dame Fate? Was the Otherworld sending their avatars to look in on the baby? Should I be worried or flattered?

  I turned up the heat. This was ridiculous weather for June. Hopefully, the locals would never find out that it was all Gus’s fault, or they’d chase us out of town with pitchforks and torches.

  Devil's Point was so different from my life in Los Angeles. I loved that we had seasons here, and regular rainfall, and so much green throughout the year. At least, we had, until Gus screwed up the weather.

  As the deer finished their crossing, I scrolled through the photos on my phone. Most of them were blurry or covered with weird rainbow colors, except for the buck. That photo was glorious and in sharp focus. I sighed, happy. And then the photo vanished. What the hell? I scrolled through my photos but it wasn’t there anymore.

  I put the phone away, annoyed. I always had an iffy relationship with electronics, but after I got pregnant, it seemed to get worse. Gus had bought me an e-reader for Yule, and I shorted it out in less than a month. Although Gus is convinced that it’s only broken because, for some reason, in my heart, I want it to be broken.

  “YOU LOOK like you’re in heaven, sugar.” Ruby, the diner owner said, as she wiped down the counter.

  I nodded. I was finally getting to enjoy the best hot fudge sundae I’ve ever had. It was intensely rich and sinfully delicious. I savored each bite, letting the flavors melt and swirl in my mouth.

  “I never thought there was a difference in the way sundaes tasted, until I tried yours. If you ever get tired of your husband, let me know.”

  Ruby threw her head back and laughed. “It’s rare you find a woman nowadays who appreciates having dessert for breakfast. Everyone’s so fixated on their weight.”

  “Like my dad always used to say, “Life’s short, eat dessert first.” I grinned. “Seriously, though. Why is yours so different?”

  The sundae was layered with juicy slices of ripe strawberries and thick fudge between each rich, creamy scoop of ice cream, then topped with cinnamon-dusted whipped cream, sliced strawberries, sliced real cherries, none of those plasticky maraschino ones, and drizzled with more fudge. It was more of an event than a dessert.

  “I make it all myself, sugar. All from organic ingredients. I make the ice cream, the fudge sauce, even the whipped cream. Although God makes the strawberries and cherries, so I can’t take credit for those. But they grow large and sweet, in the little hothouse Daryl made for me, in our backyard. I even grind my own cinnamon. Did you know some of those cinnamon powders in the market use sawdust as a filler? Sawdust! Can you imagine that? Ever since I read that little tidbit, I decided to do everything myself, when I can, and to make sure I get all organic ingredients when I can’t. Even the spices I use are organic.”

  “Wow. Even the sugar?”

  She nodded. “Organic. Have to. I hear they spray sugar beets with Round-Up now. I know it don’t bother most people, but I am highly allergic to ingesting anything that’s come in contact with Round-Up. I had to learn how to make everything myself and be religious about going organic, or my insides would be covered in hives. It’s amazing what you can learn to do, when you don’t have a choice.”

  “Gus would seriously love you. Can I get two more sundaes—to go? I’ve got to take one home for him to try.”

  “Of course. Who’s the second one for?”

  “Me,” I grinned. “I’m eating for two, after all. Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

  “After all the compliments you’ve given me this morning? Go ahead.”

  “Is there anyone around here who works as a private investigator?”

  That perked up her interest. “There used to be, but business was slow, so she packed up and moved to New Hope. What’s going on, sugar? Man trouble?”

  “No. I just…I thought most of my family was dead. But I recently found out that I have a half-brother. I think he’s living somewhere on the West Coast. All I know about him, is that his name is Vin. I would really love to find him, but I’m not sure how.”

  New Hope was about two hours away, so that was out. I was not a fan of long drives. I wondered if the woman would be willing to do a phone consultation.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to leave that be, sugar? Sometimes, long-lost relatives are lost for a reason. You don’t want to go stirring up that hornet’s nest.”

  I stared at her, as I licked the last of the fudge off my spoon. “Spoken like a woman who’s had a heart-to-heart with my Aunt Tillie. When she was alive,” I hastily amended. “What do you know about my brother?”

  “Nothing,” she said, wiping the counter. But she wasn’t making eye contact with me.

  “Ruby, he’s my brother. He’s kin. Just because my Aunt Tillie had a problem with him, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be given a chance to get to know him.”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’. I can’t. It’s for your own good.”

  I was getting so tired of other people trying to control me, for my own good. That’s how Aunt Tillie justified all the horrible things she’d done to me in the past year.

  “Ruby, my mom died when I was a toddler. My dad died when I was in my teens. I grew up alone, without a family, and I can tell you from experience, that sucks. I don’t want my baby to go through that, to feel alone in this world. I want my baby to feel rooted, to feel loved, to feel like part of a greater whole, surrounded by family and friends. Not to drift through life, looking for someone, anyone, to be an anchor, like I did.”

  Ruby hesitated. “Did you know Tillie before she passed?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just a vague memory from when I was a toddler, but I didn’t realize I had any living relatives, until after she passed. Please, Ruby, tell me what you know about my brother.”

  “Half-brother.” She shook her head a few times, and finally came to a decision. “I know your Aunt didn’t set much store by him. Said he was the black sheep of the family. He may be your kin, but genes aren’t everything.”

  Aunt Tillie was so judgmental. Not that she’s changed much since passing on. You’d think being dead would strip away a person’s prejudices, but maybe death is as much a process as life is.

  “Between you and me,” Ruby continued, “I don’t think she ever forgave your mother for adopting him out to strangers, instead of giving him to Tillie to raise. But she kept an eye on him over the years. Told me he fell in with a bad crowd when he grew up and turned out worse than worthless. Tillie said he grew up to be a dangerous man.”

  I sighed. If there was a way to bitch-slap a ghost, I’d totally be on it. “Do you know his adoptive family’s last name? Or if he wound up anywhere near Los Angeles?”

  She scratched the back of her neck, and rolled her shoulders, trying to remember. “Darlin’ that was a long time ago. Let me think…He was adopted in Los Angeles, but his new family lived further south. San Juan Capistrano, maybe? Some place that starts with an S.”

  “Do you have any idea what his full name was? Or what Vin is short for?”

  She frowned and shook her head. “Tillie always called him Vin. Like that actor fellow. His new family’s last name…I remember it had something to do with churches. I always thought
it was such an unusual name. Steeple? Nave? Transept? For the life of me, I can’t remember what it was.”

  “If you remember, can you call me?” I asked, writing my name and number on a napkin and passing it to her.

  “Oh, honey, this was, what, thirty or so years ago when he was adopted? I’m lucky I remember what I had for dinner last night.”

  But she took the napkin and pocketed it.

  WHEN I WALKED into the cottage, I noticed that Aunt Tillie’s skull was missing.

  “Where’s Aunt Tillie?” I asked Gus. Aramis and Apollo wagged their stubby tails and grinned, leaning against my legs. I stroked the tops of their heads.

  Gus paused. “She’s here.”

  “Okay…” I looked around. “But where’s her skull?”

  “Where it normally is.”

  I looked again, and there it was. “Whoa. How did I totally miss that?”

  “Because I’m a very good witch. And you’re welcome.” Gus grinned.

  I looked at Aunt Tillie’s skull again. Now that I knew it was there, I could even see her face over the bone.

  But Aunt Tillie wasn’t very chill, as J.J., (a local stoner kid), would say. In fact, she was more on the steamy side, her eye sockets snapping with ectoplasmic flames. “We’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “Tillie was worried,” Gus corrected. “I was trying to watch H.R. Pufnstuf, but someone kept talking over Witchy Poo.”

  Gus was a huge fan of cartoons, movies, TV shows, online videos, anything that would keep him from having to read a book, really. Which I never understood. But as far as he was concerned, books were only for research.

  “Nothing happened that I couldn’t handle,” I said.

  “You see?” Aunt Tillie’s eyes snapped back to Gus. “I told you there was a problem.” She focused back on me. “Start talking, Missy. I heard Adele yelling for you to stop. She wouldn’t have done that for no reason.”

  Adele was my mom. Her name was Adelaide, but Aunt Tillie had given her the nickname Adele when she was little, because Adelaide reminded her of milk maids in Holland, and the nickname had (mostly) stuck. It’s why I always liked listening to the singer, Adele, while I was driving.