Barely Bewitched (7 page)

Chapter 8

“Oh my God, girl,” Zach said, when he sprung from the truck and bent over me.

“Get him off!” I yelled, rolling this way and that. Belatedly, I realized that I didn’t feel anything poking me anymore.

Zach stared at me completely horrified.

Gasping for breath, I peered around. The army of mini-means seemed to have disappeared. Finally, when I was sure they weren’t going to spill down on me from the back of the truck’s flatbed, I sat up.

“Are you hurt?” Zach paused. “Did you break anything?”

He could have added, “besides my heart,” because he looked stricken at my wild-eyed state.

“Um—” I felt my arms and legs with my hands. “Nope. I’m okay.” I smoothed my hands over my hair, coming away with various bits of twigs and leaves. “A squirrel attacked me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A squirrel?”

“Yes,” I said and remembered too late about Jordan’s spell that was supposed to put a curse on us when we lied.

“I didn’t see any squirrel,” he said.

“Well, what do you think happened to my leg?” I demanded, shoving my ankle up to his face. He looked at the small wound.

“I got a call that you had a problem with Earl Stanton.”

“Yeah, but I took care of him.”

Zach cocked his eyebrow as he lifted me to my feet. “You did, huh? The way I heard it, he slipped and knocked himself out, then a couple of his buddies dragged him off.”

“Well, that’s one version, I suppose.” And it sounded better out loud than my version, in which I’d convinced a tree to commit suicide to help me defeat Earl.

I glanced down at my disheveled, dirty clothes and grimaced.

Zach ran a hand through his dark blond curls, surveying the street for a moment. “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing alone in Old Town, half drunk?”

No way to deal with that question without getting a whole new bunch of curses heaped on my head. “I’d rather do just about anything than tell you that.”

He rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “If I was acting like you’re acting, what would you do with me?”

As if any army of tiny men would get the best of Zach. He’d have stomped them into the cobbles. “I don’t think it’s too likely that this kind of thing would ever happen to you, Zach,” I said with total honesty.

Between his curls and that handsome face scowling so fiercely, he looked just like those old paintings of the archangels, except he was missing an armored breastplate, some tights, and a big spear.

Zach leaned against the side of the truck, tipping his head back and looking up at the sky. He sighed. “You’re wearing me out.”

“Maybe you should go home and get some sleep.”

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “When we were married, I always knew where to find you. I never had to worry about you doing some fool thing, except maybe with a credit card. Now you’re drinking and carrying on. What’s happened to your good sense?”

“Lost it along with my job, I guess.”

“Well, I’ve had enough,” he said.

“Good thing I got us divorced, then. Saves you the trouble now that it’s time for us to walk away.”

“Is that it? You’re giving me a taste of my own medicine? Hanging out in bars all night? Well, I’ve got news for you, darlin’. There’s a big difference between what I can handle and what you can handle.”

Considering Zach has about sixty pounds of solid muscle and a gun on his side, I didn’t consider his announcement about being better equipped to handle trouble newsworthy at all. To my mind, my thwarting Earl was way more impressive. Plus, I’d taken out my share of werewolves the week before. I deserved a little bit of credit, for gumption at least. The belly full of tequila shots told me I should demand it.

“It’s kind of embarrassing, huh?” I said. “Me running all over town, and you not being able to control me.”

“Hang on a minute—”

“No, you hang on. My life is a mess, but it’s my mess. Didn’t you see the note I left? We’re broken up.”

“I saw it. You really think this breakup will stick when none of the others did?”

“What I think is that you didn’t have to come looking for me tonight. I didn’t want you to.”

He winced, but I stood my ground.

“You can tell everyone I broke up with you again, and that you’re fed up. You’re washing your hands of me. Say it a few times, and people will believe it. Get yourself someone new.” It nearly choked me to say the words, but it had to be said. Zach probably wouldn’t be able to stand me living like I was, and I didn’t seem to have a choice about the direction my life was headed.

“You want me to step aside?” He swallowed hard. “You think life as Bryn Lyons’s trophy wife would be better, is that it?”

“This isn’t about him. I loved you first and best, but you expect me to do whatever you say, like when we were kids. And tonight, you threatened to take me back to Chulley! You really think I’d go along with that?” Furious tears filled my eyes. “The truth is I’ve got to be a lot tougher than I ever was, and I don’t think you’ll like it. Maybe it’s time you let me go before either of us gets more hurt than we already are.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“That sounds like real good advice, darlin’. Too bad I’m not ready to take it.” He clenched his jaw and walked around to the passenger door of his truck. He opened it and waited.

I climbed in, partly relieved and partly dreading the fights that were sure to come over the next week. Zach closed the door and went to the driver’s side.

I’d said my piece so I sat quietly as he drove us back to the main part of town. He skipped the turnoff to his place, but didn’t take the best road to get to my house either.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I gotta make a stop.” Then he turned onto Earl’s street.

“I said I took care of him.”

“I heard you.”

“So what are we doing here?”

“The way I heard it, you were screaming when he dragged you to the door of the Whiskey Barrel and threw you outside into the dirt.”

“Oh.” If somebody had told it to Zach that way, there was nothing in the world that would keep Zach from confronting Earl. I couldn’t see any point wasting my breath on Earl’s account, especially considering that my throat was sore from screaming all night, most of which had been his fault.

Zach pulled up to the curb and threw the truck in park.

“Don’t kill him.”

Zach tossed his gun on the driver’s seat and shut the door. I watched him walk to Earl’s front door and kick it in. I shut my eyes and tried not to think about them fighting. I tried not to think about anything.

The tequila had helped numb my mind, but around the edges I still felt my anxiety. Starting in the morning, I’d be dipping into magic I couldn’t control. I didn’t want Zach caught in the cross fire, because, as tough as Zach was, he couldn’t protect himself from supernatural trouble. I’d seen that with the werewolf bite.

I sighed.
That darn WAM. I’d like to wham them.

A few minutes later, Zach got back into the truck’s cab. His hair was mussed and his knuckles were scraped, but he looked fine. The splotch of blood on his shirt wasn’t his.

At home, after I took a shower, he cleaned my cuts with peroxide and put Band-Aids on the deeper ones. I didn’t tell him that I got some of them from tiny little spears, and he didn’t ask for details.

Then I put peroxide on his skinned knuckles and taped some gauze pads on them for the night.

“You tired?” I asked. “I’m falling-down tired.” I crawled into my bed.

He stripped and climbed in with me. I was too exhausted to argue about it.

He pulled me to him so I was lying along his side, his muscles all warm and solid, a comfort after my long, crazy night.

“You remember that time we were alone at my parents’ house and TJ came home early? He dropped his key in the dark and couldn’t find it, had to break in?”

“I remember you thought he was a burglar and almost killed him with your daddy’s rifle.”

“I was fourteen, and there was only one thought in my head: If he gets by me, he’ll get to her. It’s okay if I die, so long as I take him with me. So long as my girl’s safe.”

My body tightened in response. Zach would always be protective of me, and a part of me was glad. It was the same part that made a habit of kissing him whenever he said anything I liked, so I wanted to snuggle close to him until things took their natural course. But I knew I couldn’t encourage that kind of intimacy. Instead, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“It’s a real good thing I saw your back after I’d already been to Earl’s house,” he said. I heard his knuckles pop as he made his hands into fists. His breath went in and out in short, angry sighs. “I didn’t kill him, but I ain’t ruled out the possibility that I’ll have to do it sometime soon.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, ’cause if he needs killin’ this week, I’m going to be too busy to do it.”

Zach laughed, and so did I. Deep down, though, the state of my life didn’t seem funny at all.

Chapter 9

When I woke up the following morning on Tuesday, Zach had left for work. The room felt cozy and warm, and I curled the pillow to my face so I could inhale his scent. He was handsome, sexy, and completely loyal to me. I wished he hadn’t gone; I’d have worked on saying good morning in the way I knew he liked best. Except . . . Except what?

I stopped the tumbling flow of my thoughts. My body felt extremely light, as if I might float off the mattress if I rolled over suddenly.

I heard kids laughing and realized my window must have been left open. I climbed from bed, hoping my neighbors wouldn’t notice me pulling up the fire ladder. When I got to the window though, the ladder was rolled in a pile under the sill, and the window was shut and locked. I looked through the glass and saw kids in the driveway several houses down. Unless I’d gotten bionic ear surgery in my sleep, I couldn’t have heard those children. I wandered away.

Looking in my dresser, I couldn’t find any clothes I wanted to wear. I dug through the trunk at the end of my bed. I can’t say why, on the twenty-eighth of October, I felt compelled to wear the jade green chiffon dress I’d bought for Georgia Sue’s summer garden party. I had wedge sandals to match, but I couldn’t make myself put them on.

“Bare feet are better,” I said and knew it was true, the way I know my right hand from my left, the way I know if you don’t use a double boiler, you’ve got to watch the temperature of melting chocolate like a hawk or you’ll scorch it.

Something’s changed.
Then I remembered about Incendio and Jordan and their magical drinking game. I’d lied, more than once, after Jordan cast his truth spell.

My heart sped up a little, but I didn’t feel sick or scared. I felt like I was a bottle of Sprite that someone had shaken up. Like I needed to be uncapped so I could bubble over onto the whole world. If this was being cursed, I should’ve tried it a long time ago.

I went downstairs and stopped at my back door.
Help.
I felt it, or maybe I heard it. I opened the door, and sunshine blazed in like a yellow Amtrak train. I blinked. The tree canopy looked like the leaves were made of green satin.

I stepped outside, and the dirt burned my soles. The ground was not right. Pain shot up my legs like hundreds of needles were being dragged along my skin.

The wind whispered through the leaves, and the tree talked in my head, telling me that I’d killed the plants and burned the ground very deeply. I already knew that I’d damaged the yard. I’d had to draw power from the earth the week before to rescue some people from a sleeping sickness. The aftermath of the spell had decimated Aunt Melanie’s herb garden.

What I hadn’t known before now was that the ground was still suffering. I knelt down and touched it, smelling soot and feeling the dry, barren soil. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

I came inside to the grating sound of the ringing phone.
Too loud.
I grabbed my ears as I raced toward it. The machine picked up just as I got there.

“This is Jordan, love. Meet Incendio and me on the Corsic Creek Bridge in an hour.”

I unplugged the phone and the machine. Then I grabbed a tray of cupcakes and went out the front door.

By afternoon, my house and yard were full. I licked honey off my fingers and kissed the jam off my four-year-old neighbor’s cheek before I plopped her back down in front of the cartoons playing on the television.

I waved and smiled at the three school-aged children who passed by. They rolled a red wagon full of chrysanthemums and a plastic bucket of water through the living room on their way to the yard.

Bryn Lyons followed in their wake, stopping at my kitchen countertop.

“
What
is going on?” he asked.

“We’re saving the earth. Want some of my homemade ice cream? I’ve got cherry chocolate chip and mint fudge. Though the mint fudge might not be all the way hardened yet,” I said.

“Do you know there are children at the entrance of the neighborhood digging up plants and then rolling them over here in wheelbarrows? They’re like ants marching in single file.”

“Ants are perfectly within their rights to walk in single file if that’s how they like it.” I skipped around the counter and out to my yard, hopping over games and toys and children as I went.

“Make sure you pad the ropes, Matthew, so they don’t cut into the tree,” I instructed the boys, then turned back to Bryn. “I got cursed and now nature talks to me.”

He stared at me. You so rarely see a lawyer at a loss for words. It’s kind of nice.

The kids called for my attention to their work projects. I walked around, surveying. Rings of flowers organized by color. A castle painted in vibrant reds, blues, and yellows on the formerly white fence. Plants and garden art brimming from every nook. And from the older boys, a soon-to-be-completed massive hanging tree house. They already had the platform for its floor in place.

Matt dropped out of the tree and landed at my feet. He was tall and chubby, but an excellent climber.

“What do you think, Tammy?”

“It’s wonderful,” I said and kissed him on the cheek.

He grinned. “Okay, fellas, she likes it. Let’s get the back wall up,” Matt said and scaled the trunk.

“Does the construction union know there’s a twelve-year-old foreman on the job here?” Bryn asked, his voice as dry as one of Edie’s martinis.

“This doesn’t concern them.”

Abby, who was about eight years old, rushed into the yard, her dark brown hair streaming behind her. “Miss Tammy, Mrs. Packney’s coming up the walk, and she’s real mad about her rosebush.”

I bent down. “Abby, I’ve got company. Would you like to take care of it for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!” She raced back inside.

“Only a pinch!” I called after her.

“A pinch of what?” Bryn said, gently pulling me back into the house. He avoided some muddy water that had sloshed onto the floor. I stepped onto a skateboard and, as he pulled me, I rolled through the house to the front hall.

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered as I hopped off the board and tugged him so that we were wedged in a corner behind the tall chest of drawers. When Mrs. Packney got to the door she wouldn’t be able to see us.

Abby stood a couple feet away, peering out. The small box, still covered with dirt and weeds, stood at the ready near the front doorway. Abby opened it carefully and took a tiny pinch of the glittering gold dust. She closed the lid with just as much care and then stood, waiting.

“Tammy Jo Trask!” Mrs. Packney yelled through my screen door.

“I can explain, Mrs. Packney,” Abby stammered.

“I doubt it!”

“I’ll tell you if you’ll listen,” Abby said in a soft voice, sweet as peaches. She opened the door a crack so Mrs. Packney could bend down to listen. The woman leaned forward, her silver hair falling lightly around her round face. Abby blew the dust. “It’s a beautiful day in Duvall. We’re replanting the flowers together so none of them will be lonely,” Abby said.

Mrs. Packney swooned a little before catching herself on the door frame. “I take very good care of my roses,” she mumbled dazedly.

“And so will we. They’ll be very happy here,” Abby said with a smile that showed off the tiny dimple in her right cheek.

“Well, just see that you do. Those rosebushes came all the way from Houston.”

“Would you like a cupcake or some biscuits for your walk home? We’ve got fresh honey from our very own hive. As Miss Tammy Jo says, there’s no better bee than a Duvall bee.”

“Good God,” Bryn whispered fiercely.

“That would be nice, dear,” Mrs. Packney said.

As Abby skipped past us on her way to the kitchen, she gave me an okay sign. I winked at her and squeezed Bryn’s arm.

“C’mon. It’s okay if Mrs. P sees us now.” I grabbed the box of dust and skateboarded down the hall to the kitchen. Bryn followed me.

His eyebrows were somewhere up near his hairline as he looked around the house. “Welcome to Children of the Cupcakes, where your friends and neighbors can lead Stepford lives with only a single pinch of dirt,” he said.

I sat down on my table, hugging my knees to my chest and playing with my chiffon hem, which was satisfyingly muddy.

Bryn lifted the wood box and looked inside.

“Close the lid. You scatter that around, and I’m not responsible for what happens.”

“You’re not responsible?” He shut the top. “Tamara, this is . . . I won’t be able to get you out of this.”

“Out of what?”

“You can’t use magic like this. To do a spell of this power, controlling minds for something as trivial as stealing plants . . . The Conclave will lock you up. Or worse.”

“Restoring nature isn’t trivial, and it has nothing to do with your Conclave. That box isn’t full of gold and herbs that I cast a spell on. I’m not a witch anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, turn a pumpkin into a coach and I’ll ride to Riven-dell.” I smiled at him, waiting for a response. He stared blankly at me. “That tequila curse turned me into an elf. Or maybe it was the hobgoblins. Their spears could’ve had poison on them. Not saying that they did for sure, but . . .” I paused, thinking. “Honestly, I’m not certain how my turning elf happened. Only that it’s as fabulous as fudge,” I said, throwing my arms wide for emphasis.

“Hobgoblins?” he said, not even acknowledging my excitement. That’s the trouble with some people, namely anyone who’s suffered the serious misfortune of growing up.

“Yep, goblins. They attacked me ’cause I destroyed their home. Can’t say I blame them. Damaging a tree . . . Well, I didn’t know any better yesterday, but if I did something like that today, I’d have to take myself off frosting for a month as punishment.”

I pulled the box gently from his hands and set it on the table next to me, patting the lid.

He stared at me, still looking bemused. Too bad he couldn’t hear the trees. They’re so good at explaining things.

“This dust is ground gold and dirt from under the hills. A prize from a pixie, passed to a knight, and buried here as a gift for my mother. Only she couldn’t use it. Only children and the fae can see it for what it is. So says the tree.” I pointed to the big ash tree in my yard.

Bryn glanced out and then back at me. “That box can’t be what you think, if you found it out there. Faeries can be capricious, but they wouldn’t leave a whole box of their dust in some witch’s yard. Faeries and witches are, for the most part, adversaries. The fae don’t believe we should perform magic.”

“
We
believe you’re not entitled to the earth’s power because you don’t respect the earth. Just look what I did to my yard back when I was a witch.”

“You’re still a witch. You don’t just stop being a witch.”

“Oh, no?” I lifted my hair to show him my ears. “See them.”

“See what?”

Abby, who’d just given a dish of biscuits to Mrs. Packney, stopped at the table. “Her ears are pointed,” she said helpfully.

“And my skin?” I said, stretching out my arms.

“Pink gold,” she said with a theatrical twirl that made her shirt flare out.

Bryn turned to face Abby. “Does her skin look golden to you?”

“Yep. It shimmers like my mom’s eye shadow.”

“Okay, go play,” he said, shooing her away. He turned back to me. “It’s some kind of glamour that works on them because they’re only human. It’s not strong enough to affect me because I’m too powerful a wizard.”

“It’s not a spell. It’s real, and they see the truth because they’re children.”

“Uh-huh. And what are you going to do with all these children?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are they going home at the end of their whistle-while-they-work day?”

“They can go anywhere they like.” I paused. “But if they want to live with me, they’re welcome to.”

The kids within earshot cheered.

“All right, Pixie Pan, that’s enough. I’m getting you out of here. Whatever’s bespelled your yard won’t extend to my side of town.”

“I’m not going,” I said, grabbing my box, but he caught my arm and slid me off the table, making me furious. Bryn might be handsome, but he was not the boss of me, and if he tried to bend me to his will, he’d be sorry.