An Imperfect Witch (20 page)

Lauren raised an eyebrow.  Time for this end of the negotiation to stand her ground.  “I assumed I’d hired a fairly crappy painter.”

It was a small moment of awesome when the teenager laughed.  “You did, kinda.  Lizard’s not very good.”

“She got you the job.”  Apparently she needed to take a lot of stands this hour.  “And a place to sleep, and a boss willing to let a potentially crappy painter at her walls.  You had no standing with me.  She does.”

Raven didn’t say anything, but the attitude dialed down considerably.

Lauren gestured at the competently finished walls.  “
This
gets you standing with me.  How much paint do you need?”

“One can.  Two, if you want me to do the baseboards too.  And a good slanted brush.”  A small smile crept onto Raven’s face.  “And then we should talk about the kitchen.  But that’s going to cost you extra.”

Lauren followed the teenager into the kitchen, bemused.  And decided Moira must be right.  Things were definitely still on the move.

-o0o-

It was a far cry from Dr. Seuss.  Lizard looked over at Josh as they entered Trinity’s alleyway, very aware of his wide-open eyes.

She hadn’t prepped him.  Hadn’t given him any pretty explanations or hard ones.  Time to trust her tree.

He glanced her way, still wearing the half smile that had lived on his face right through sushi lunch with the Sullivan clan.  “Where are we headed?”

For part two of the weirdest date ever.  “I know some people who live down this way.”  She hefted the bags in her hands.  “Halloween delivery.”  The triplets had been very happy to part with a couple dozen bloody-eyeball cupcakes. 

Convincing them not to ask questions had been harder.

Josh held the second half of their offering.  Ten double helpings of Romano’s orange noodles—the ones he made for only twenty-four hours every year.  The order for Trinity had been first in line. 

Lizard turned left at the third dumpster.   And tried very hard to trust the streetwise girl who lived behind the metal and the guy walking at her side.  Lifting a toe, she kicked on the metal sheet.

“She lives in there?” asked Josh quietly.

“Yeah.”  She could feel his brain reeling.  “It’s pretty safe.”  And she was not going to sugarcoat this, dammit.

Trinity’s head came out from behind the metal.  “What’s up, mini?”  And then her eyes caught Josh and her entire being slammed into red alert.  Weapons at the ready.

Lizard made herself stand very still and let her worlds collide.

It was Trinity who found words first.  “Who the hell are you?”  One street tough, armed and dangerous.

Josh’s brain was still in meltdown—but he didn’t flinch.  “The guy holding your lunch.”

“Yeah?” All attitude, all the time.  “You bring fancy forks and pretty napkins, too?”

“Nope.”  Josh nodded sideways.  “But she has cupcakes with bloody eyeballs on them.”

It took a minute—but when Trinity laughed, it was real.  She looked at Lizard.  “This the guy you’re schtupping?”

Forget it. 
That
part of her worlds was damn well going to stay separate.  “Maybe I’ll make the next batch using your eyes as a model.”  Lizard looked over at Josh, expecting to discover he’d swallowed his tongue.  Instead, he looked ready to bust a gut laughing.

She glared. 
Or yours.

He made a manful attempt to sober up.  And then glanced at Trinity and started snickering again.

Lizard gave up and shoved the cupcake box at Trinity’s chest.

Josh held up his noodles, mind coming online.  Doing the math.  When he spoke, the words came through a laser beam of kindness.  “How many people do you have living with you?”

Oh, frack.  Lizard heard the distinctive click of land mines firing up.  The street had a whole flotilla of them, and her sweet, crazy, clueless guy had just stepped on one of the biggest.

To anyone with a grain of sense, Trinity’s face spelled pure danger.  “None of your business, noodle man.”

“Fair enough.”  Josh took a deep breath, and then reached over and took Lizard’s limp hand.  “I don’t know you, but I know she does.  So I’m guessing you’re doing your very best for every person in there.”

Trinity’s jaw dropped six feet.

Josh shrugged.  “But if there’s ever anything a guy with strong arms who knows jack about living in alleyways can do for you, she’ll know where to find me.”

The woman who had spent five years living in some of California’s meanest streets gaped.  And then finally picked up her jaw and looked at Lizard, incredulous.  “This is the guy you kicked in the head?  You’re a damn fool, girl.”

Lizard squeezed the hand enveloping hers.  “Yeah.  Got that.”

“She isn’t,” said Josh quietly.  “It’s because of her that I can stand here and not be a full-time idiot.  A couple of months ago—heck, a couple of days ago—I’d have been dumber than a brick and barged my way in where I wasn’t invited and probably gotten punched in the nose for it.”

Trinity’s belly laugh filled the whole alley.  “I don’t aim for noses, pretty boy.”

He grinned—a little shaky, but he meant it.  “Clearly my education isn’t totally finished.”

She took the noodle bags from his hand.  “Yeah.  Mine either.  Sorry if I came off a little strong.  I don’t know too many guys who are smarter than bricks.”

That pained Josh somewhere down deep in his ribs—but not by a flicker did he let it show.  “Well, you do now.”

Lizard watched two of her worlds sort themselves into some kind of mutually acceptable orbit.  And knew two things.  She was really lucky she’d never been punched in the nose.  And Josh Hennessey was one scary dude.

Her
scary dude.

-o0o-

Nell bounded up the stairs to the empty house that had somehow become the coolest destination in Witch Central, hot on the heels of her three girls.  Auntie Nat had deemed it ready for an invasion.

Or rather, its single occupant.

Her girls skidded to a halt inside the front door, taking in their surroundings.  Nell looked around in surprise.  For a place Lauren described as “ramshackle,” it didn’t look half bad.

“Don’t worry—it looked a lot worse before I started,” said a dry voice from the doorway across the room.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Mia, and that’s Ginia and Shay.  We’re triplets.”

Raven raised an eyebrow.  “I can see that.”

Nell stood down—Auntie Nat had read things right.  Her girls might run into some attitude, but nothing more.

Shay was looking around the room and its shiny new paint.  “You must have worked really hard to do all this.  Are your arms tired?”

“Nope.”  Raven grinned when the girls looked skeptical.  “That was three days ago.  Today they feel like someone ran them over with a bus about fifteen times and then put them in a blender.”

Mia erupted in delighted giggles.  “Eww, that’s totally disgusting.”  She looked at her sister, eyes bright.  “We could make blender arms for Halloween.”

Nell snorted.  “Not a chance.  No torturing my blender.”  It was new.  And awesome.

Shay grinned.  “Auntie Nat will let us use hers.  She loves gross Halloween stuff.”

Sad, but probably true.  Unless Aervyn had already commandeered it for his frog pus.  None of which Nell said, momentarily distracted by Ginia’s quiet motions.  A healing spell, readying. 
Careful, girlchild.  We have no idea what she knows about magic.

Ginia nodded, looking at Raven intently.  “I know how to touch things and make them feel better.  I can help your arms, if you want.”

Raven blinked, and then frowned.  “Wait.  Are you a witch too?”

Good grief.  So much for being careful. 

“Yup.”  Ginia moved in, healer targeting patient.  “So can I fix them up?  It will feel a little warm, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

Raven looked over at Nell.

Nell shrugged.  No way was she getting in the middle of this.  Kids often wrapped their head around magic with no problem at all—and on this, their painting whiz was clearly still a kid.

“Okay.”  Raven held out one arm.  “Try this one first—it’s the tiredest.”

Ginia, who could have fixed fifteen arms at once, ran her hands up and down, quickly scanning the energies.  And then touched her fingers gently to the back of Raven’s hand.

The teenager jumped three feet.   And then held up her arm, eyes wide.  “Wow.”

“Sorry, did it hurt?”  Ginia looked worried.  “I tried to be gentle, but your energy channels were a mess.”

Nell felt the tug-of-war as almost-adult caution tangled with childlike awe.  And then Raven held out her second arm.  “That rocks—can you fix this one, too?”

Limb resuscitation, for the win.

“Yeah.”  This time Ginia didn’t bother with a scan.  She grinned as Raven jumped again.

Nell just shook her head.  If Auntie Nat’s reports had been true, and they usually were, an ancient iPod had caused way more grief than flagrant displays of magic.

Ginia stepped back, her time in the sun done, and motioned to her sisters.  Mia stepped forward, a glittery orange card in her hands.  “We made this for you.  Tomorrow’s Halloween, and we have a party and stuff.  We want you to come.”

Raven looked at the hand-decorated pumpkin invitation like it might be ticking.

Auntie Nat, right on the money again.  Nell cleared her throat and went with her gut.  “We eat frog pus and blender arms, and then we make everybody dress up in costumes and walk around the neighborhood.  If you come, my children will probably make you carry all their candy, and then Ginia will have to fix up your arms again.”  An appeal to the inner child lurking under the suspicious teen exterior.

The one who had opened to magic as easily as most people accepted a handshake.

“I don’t know.”  Raven shrugged.  “I’ll think about it.”

Nell studied the sullen, suspicious face.  And decided, one more time, to let the gamble ride. She sent her three girls the quick mental signal they’d arranged earlier.  Time for some Walkers to make themselves scarce. 

And give a teenager time to choose.

Chapter 17

Raven was going to come to Halloween if she had to be prodded the whole way there with a painting extender pole.

Lizard marched up the door to the vacant house, stomach churning.  Raven hadn’t said no—but she hadn’t said yes, either.  And that was a problem.  Three girls were already working overtime on a costume for her, and a small boy had decided that he wanted to hold her hand for the first little while so she wouldn’t be  too scared by all the monsters.

Which meant one teenage painter needed to suck it up and show up.

She banged on the door and waited for Raven to answer.  All she heard was a muffled yell from inside. 

Damn.  The girl had probably fallen off a ladder or something.  Lizard charged in the door—and gaped.

Raven was on her back, using the tiniest paintbrush in the world to fill in the miniature details at the bottom of the fireplace surround.  Which looked remarkably awesome.  The kind of focal point that dragged the eye away from ugly counters and bashed-up floors and highlighted the place’s possibilities.

The person responsible for the awesomeness took three more mini brushes out of her mouth.  “Get lost.  You don’t get to help with this part.”

Lizard scrambled to find her tongue.  “What happened to the taupe?  I thought we were using that on everything.”  Hell, even the taupe walls looked better with the moss-green fireplace.

“Change of plans.”  Raven brushed away at some minute thing no one would ever see.  “This looks way better.”

No argument there.  “Where’d you get the paint?”

“Your boss.”

What was this, Grand Central Station?  “That looks really fiddly—maybe it’s better to worry about the big walls and stuff.”  Things people actually noticed.

Raven snorted.  “Go ahead, look around.  Walls are done, trim upstairs is done.  I’ll finish in here tonight.”

A different kind of panic hit Lizard.  “Then you’ll be done.”  Two days early.  And there was no plan for what came next.

“Nah.  Gonna paint the kitchen cabinets.  Lauren promised me five hundred bucks and a gold tiara if I can make it look less like a seventies abomination in there.”

The salmon-orange countertops were gonna win that fight.  Lizard looked one more time at the suddenly attractive fireplace.  Or maybe not.  Small miracles were being wrought.  One former dump, almost presentable.

She wandered into the dining room, dazed and more than a little confused.  And spied Raven’s makeshift bed, complete with candles, a cardigan folded down at the end, and the crayon edition of MonsterZilla taped to the wall.

The original reason for her visit came flooding back. 

She spun to accost a painter—and then turned slowly back to the bed, details finally catching up with her brain.  Tucked under Raven’s pillow were two things.  An ancient iPod—and a glittery, pumpkin-shaped invitation.

Lizard shook her head, bemused, and stood down her armies.

Battle, already won.

-o0o-

Moira watched in amusement as Aervyn tried to peddle his own version of green goo.

Nell shook her head.  “No way, kiddo.  I don’t eat green stuff.”