Odd Melody (Odd Series Book 2) (14 page)

I realized that even if his glamour did not work on me, he thought that he could use it as leverage. One of the primary objections I had against fairies as a people, they did not play nice. They were manipulative, spoiled brats only concerned with their priorities. Somehow, my lighthearted morning had gone deadly serious in a matter of moments. I had lost the upper hand and all control of the situation by walking into the room with my weakened best friend. Not a good way to start any relationship.

The question became, how exactly to regain a position of power? I could sing and drain the synapses out of his brain. But that seemed overkill for a bit of glam, really. Although what he did annoyed me, he was not actively hurting Mia. And if I sang, there was a very good chance I
would
hurt Avery. But he meant to turn this into a power struggle and singing was pretty much the only gun I had in my arsenal, so to speak. I sighed. Then again, supposedly I had other gifts. Half siren equaled half fairy, too. Actually, that was why I was stuck with the midget.

Mia tried to move past me to get to Avery.

Avery, to give him credit, not that any was due in this case, did nothing other than stand there, looking brilliant. He waited for my move. Again, fairies are cats. He began the game then waited to see what I would do. I hate fairies. Really, I hate them.

Then, Mia sneezed.

I waved an arm to ward off whatever she cast. Avery howled, “No, please, Princess!”

It never occurred to me until later that, to Avery, it appeared as if I had stood there plotting away and then lifted my arm imperiously so things happened. To be honest, after the oatmeal-to-butterflies incident, I merely tried to deflect whatever magic had shot out of Mia.

Liquid darkness began to creep out of the ground around us. Mia, snapped out of the spell cast by the glamour, stared at the floor of her store and backed up a step. “What did you do?”

This gave credence to Avery’s assumption that I had done whatever. I mean, come on. The witch had sneezed. I had done a fancy arm wave. Neither of us was really watching him, though. We watched the cloud of creeping darkness. It rose up and became uncomfortably substantial. The black cloud almost had wings as it came up from the floor.

Avery was stuck against a wall and a display case. We had nowhere to go either. We had backed into the front counter by the register. The black creature with wings hovered between us.

“What is that thing?” Avery’s voice sounded surprisingly calm.

I stared at it. I desperately wanted to glance at Mia, but I was afraid to turn away from the thing for even a moment, all weeping angel-like. Just then, the bell dinged on the front door.

We all swiveled to look. I got a glimpse of Sven entering, tired and bedraggled in appearance, before I spun back realizing I had taken my eyes from the hovering, winged, darkness.

With a
whoosh,
the air seemed to be sucked from the room as the thing moved. I shrieked as my hair blew back. The thing dived at us. At the last second, it bounced off a bubble that hovered only inches over my head, then it swerved across the room, and dove at Avery.

Avery made a choked sound and the darkness condensed further as it entered his chest.

“Crap.” I slapped at the bubble that Mia had thrown around us in protection. She dropped it as the last dregs of the black thing filled Avery, and he dropped to his knees.

“Tears of Sorrow spell.” Mia muttered under her breath as if I would somehow know what that meant.

“What does it do?”

“That.” She pointed.

Avery had dropped to his knees and black tears spilled down his cheeks. His hands lay limp at his sides as he sat motionless.

“Crap, I broke him again.” I flipped open my phone. “My mom is going to be so mad.”

“It will wear off.” Mia shrugged, nonplussed. “Probably. Or my muse will get here. One way or another, it is not the worst thing that could have happened. He was glamouring me, wasn’t he?”

“Yup.”

She walked to him and nudged his knee with a toe. The face he turned up to her held eyes gone black that slowly leaked black tears.

“Yeah.” Her smile was slightly bloodthirsty and not her usual grin. “Could have done worse.”

I rolled my eyes and collected my abandoned coffee. Odd was not always a good thing. I turned to Sven, who usually looked well put together, with his witchy shirts and leopard print blazer. He had a day’s worth of stubble, and his hair hung in unkempt strands like moss around his face. Had on the same tee he had been wearing the day before, as if he had not slept. Something was up with Sven. If things ever calmed down, I really had to figure out what. For now though, I had to get Vickie ready for school. I headed back upstairs to do that.

Behind me, I heard Mia sneeze and I cringed. Maybe I would go up in a minute.

~~~

By the time I made it upstairs, I wanted to scream in frustration. The week was turning out to be as disastrous as the previous one. Going home was supposed to be easier than struggling on your own in a faraway place with no one for support.

With the people I knew around me, things wound up being more complicated. I wondered if I could blame that on the paranormal nature of my life or if it was a general fact of life for everyone.

When I entered the kitchen, nearly fell on a blob of oatmeal, and then had to bat away a butterfly, I decided to blame the former.

Vickie sat as wide eyed as a trout. She had a glob of oatmeal in her previously glossy and brushed blond hair. Grey blobs speckled her school clothes while butterflies continued to flutter their slow pace around her in a rainbow cacophony.

My jaw dropped.

“I think some of the spell has worn off.” She waved one small hand around the kitchen in general explanation. “I was trying to gather them up and some got on me.”

There are no rules in any of the parenting books for that sort of thing. No Dr. Phil episode ever covered what to do when butterflies turned to oatmeal and spattered your kid, making her, yet again, late for school. I could only wing it in cases like that. So I did. I told her to go take a shower and to get ready for school again. I assured her everything would turn out fine. I gave her a hug and told her it wasn’t her fault. To be sure she knew, I playfully tugged her hair as she trooped down the hall to the shower.

Batting away another butterfly, I called the school and advised them that Vickie would be late. I said she had an upset stomach. I didn’t really lie. The whole morning had been unsettling.

I sighed and cleaned up the mess spattered around while dodging the oatmeal still in insect form. Glancing at my cell, I wondered how long until the rest would turn. One changed overhead and splattered with a moist thud to the countertop. Grey goo speckled my forearm, still oddly warm and feeling a lot like snot. I decided to escape the brunt of the butterfly-oatmeal storm. I abandoned the kitchen and headed for the store.

Downstairs, Mia sniffled into a tissue while she and Sven bent over a huge catalog. I went to the other side of the counter so I could see too. It offered a variety of witch type items. Inventory for the store. I read some of the names, like Celtic Mandela alter cloth and black skrying bowl.

“Does all that stuff work?” Wiggling a finger, I pointed in the general direction of the book.

“Depends on who uses it.” Mia reached for a tissue and sniffed into it in a ladylike manner.

It didn’t sound anything like when I blow my nose, which was a much noisier production.

“My muse is late.”

“Sorry. Anything I can do?” Cocking a hip, on the counter, I grinned at her, hoping she would tell me to gather feverfew naked in the moonlight or something cool.

“You could do something with your fairy.” She waved her tissue in his general direction.

“Can’t you undo what you did to him?” I nibbled a finger and gazed at the dark eyes continuing to seep black tears. “I really would rather not call my mother and tell her that I broke her fairy again.”

And he was broken. Of course, he was also unable to do whatever she had planned to convince me to rejoin the fairy council. Bad for Avery but not so bad for me. And he did not appear to be in pain. Well, other than the creepy eyes gone to irises and the tears of ebony that tracked down his golden cheeks.

“Nope, can’t undo it.” Mia flipped a page and stabbed it with her finger. Sven nodded and typed the product number in the laptop he had flipped open next to her.

“How many?” Sven stopped clicking to glance at Mia.

“Hmm.” She pondered this for a moment before tapping a finger on her chin. “Let’s get twenty. Christmas may move more of them than normal. I want to be sure we have enough in stock, but not so many that they aren’t fresh.”

He nodded again and made a further notation.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because they only stay fresh for about six weeks once they’re cut.” Her tone was distracted, and she flipped another page in her catalog.

“No.” I took her arm to get her full attention. “Why can’t you cast a spell and undo what you did to Avery?”

She looked at me from glassy, bloodshot eyes under a fringe of frazzled hair. “From what you have seen today, do you really want me to try to use my magic? Nothing I’ve done has been on purpose. If I tried to do magic, it is hard to say what would happen. I am too sick to control my own power. It is bad enough that I am casting anything. I am certainly not going to
try
to do magic in this condition. That would be the epitome of irresponsible witchcraft.”

I understood that, I guess. “But what am I supposed to do with him?”

“I have no idea.” Her face looked sincere and worried. “Other than throwing a tarp over him until my muse gets here, I got nothing. No other witch can reverse what I did. Unless you have some cool fairy override, he’s your problem.” She tapped a finger on her book and reminded me of my mother as she waited.

“I’ve got nothing.”

We both turned to Sven. He yawned. Again, it put one in the mind of a cavern opening to swallow a small child whole. I guess that meant he had no brilliant ideas either. Why was he suddenly so tired all the time?

Just then Vickie bounced down the stairs, smelling of little girl, energy and shampoo. Her hair had mostly dried and looked clear of all oatmeal. She wore a cute denim skirt and a purple striped top with a skull emblazoned on it. Over that, she had thrown a half hoodie, and she had draped her coat on one arm.

Taking in the outfit, I glared at her. “You’re going to freeze. An Alberta Clipper came through last night and left a ton of snow out there. The wind chill was barely high enough for them not to cancel school. Jeans, young lady.”

“Can I cut my hair off and dye it, too?” She moved to stand nose to chin to me. “And do you have a tattoo?”

“What?” I asked, clamping a hand over my neck to cover the apparently visible siren mark.

“Is that a tattoo?” She reached up to pry at my hand with the bravery only your own kid has.

“Victoria Athena Smith, get your hands off me now.” I used my best maternal tone.

Unfazed, she continued to pry at my hand. “No, really, when did you get a tattoo? Don’t they have to heal? Can I get a tattoo and dye my hair?”

I was in that territory again, that stuff Dr. Phil did not cover. How do you explain to your kid that bad metaphysics caused most of your physical changes and that no, she may not get tattoos or dye her hair because given the choice, Mommy would not have either?

From across the counter, Mia sneezed again. Before I could protect her, a pink cloud of dust rained down on Vickie. I madly plunged my hands into it and screamed.

Vickie shrieked.

As the cloud cleared, I saw my daughter clearly. “Mia!”

“I am so sorry!” Mia howled the words and then silence descended.

Vickie’s pretty golden hair was black with purple streaks. She had a tattoo that looked like tribal art going from one side of her collarbone to the other. Celtic runes circled each wrist and what looked suspiciously like a rose vine climbed one ankle.

She looked down, her hair fell forward, and she grabbed at it. A grin spread on her face. “Awesome! Thanks, Mia!”

“Mia.” I yelled the words and tried to decide whether to cradle my child or kill my best friend. “What did you do to my kid?”

“Well, you were arguing and I sneezed and I was thinking…and I don’t know!”

“Undo it.” I yelped and pointed, closing my eyes and praying. “She is already late for school.”

“I can’t! Can you imagine what might happen if I tried, and then I sneezed mid-spell?”

I smacked a hand on my forehead and peered cautiously at my daughter. “I cannot send her to school like that.”

She spun and grinned at Mia. I started laughing.

Then she glanced behind her. “I have a tail!”

She had a bright purple lion’s tail. The tuft at the end matched her hair—purple and black streaks.

She no longer appeared pleased. “Mia, undo it, please.”

“Can’t.” Mia shrugged. “Have to wait for my muse.”

I flipped open my cell phone. “Looks like your stomach upset just got worse and you got called off for the day, kid.”

“I have a tail!” Vickie plopped in the window seat. “Man, there are days when I should just stay in bed.”

I knew what she meant.

CHAPTER Nine

Having Vickie home while we waited for the muse meant that I had to do something useful with my time. I can’t say as I was terribly pleased when my cell phone jangled and my mother’s number appeared.

“Good morning.” My mother’s voice chirped cheerfully, but even the sound of
Gilligan’s Island
had not cheered me enough to respond in kind.

“Mother.” My voice fell flat. Like a pancake of sound made of oatmeal and lions tails and black tears.

“So, how are things going with Avery?”