Magic & Mishaps Page 10

  Marigold tapped the end of the wand against her palm. “Have you considered doing a cleanse?”

  “Lots of times, but I like chocolate and booze too much.”

  Marigold licked her lips and focused her drill sergeant eyes on me. “I’m not talking about your diet. I’m talking about this wand. Have you considered a cleansing ritual to get rid of the energy that’s still clinging to the wand?”

  I snatched the wand from Marigold and clutched it to my chest. “Why would we do that?” I didn’t like the idea of messing with a family heirloom. With our luck, we’d manage to destroy the ancient wand in the process. Aunt Hyacinth would never forgive us. She’d gifted the wand to Marley because she felt my daughter was worthy of it. I didn’t want to repay her by ruining the ancient wand.

  “It’s possible that the wand is Marley’s issue,” Marigold said. “That there’s too much residual energy and it’s interfering with Marley’s magical efforts.”

  Wow. That actually made sense. “That happens?”

  “Of course. We’ve been through this before, Ember. Emotional energy can be a powerful thing. If there’s too much disappointment attached to this wand, for example, it could certainly hamper Marley’s attempts to perform magic.”

  I stared at the wand. “It’s much more than disappointment.” According to the book I read, Ivy had been stripped of her magic and removed as High Priestess for the crime of ‘excessive force.’ I had no idea what the specifics were, but they had to be pretty serious.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Marigold said. “When residual energy clings like that, it tends to be of a more serious nature.”

  “If Ivy did something really awful, why would her portrait still hang in the academy?”

  Marigold appeared thoughtful. “If I had to guess, I would say it’s your aunt’s doing. Anything to preserve the good Rose name. If that means, hiding dirty little secrets, then so be it.”

  I slipped the wand into my pocket. “Who’s our best bet to help with a cleansing ritual?”

  “Probably Wren,” Marigold said. “Or maybe Lee. They’re both so good. It’s difficult to choose.”

  “I’m not talking about dating them,” I said.

  Marigold pulled a face. “Neither am I.”

  “I won’t mention this to Marley yet,” I said. “I don’t want to give her false hope.” I’d have to sneak the wand out of the cottage when she didn’t need it.

  “Why not try her with another wand in the meantime?” Marigold asked.

  I shook my head. “Marley’s too smart for the old bait and switch. She’s always been a picky eater and people would give me all this advice like hide carrots in the meat sauce. I never once was able to fool her. If she didn’t spot it, she’d taste it.”

  “Marley’s an intelligent young witch,” Marigold said. “Explain the situation and tell her you’d like to see whether a different wand works for her. Let her use yours.”

  I wasn’t convinced that was the way to go. “Because what if it isn’t the wand? It’ll ramp up her anxiety and make her feel worse.” No, I’d rather see what I can find out on my own first.

  “Suit yourself,” Marigold said. “She’s your daughter.”

  “I don’t think anything will make her feel better until Raoul is better,” I said. “That’s when this whole thing started.” Or seemed to, anyway.

  “Take it from me,” Marigold said, “she’s dealing with a lot of changes at once. Big transitions like this one take time. She might be thrown off her game now, but she’ll soon settle.”

  Assuming the wand wasn’t responsible. “Hazel helped her with homework the other day. Maybe you could offer, too? Boost her confidence?”

  Marigold’s arms shot out as though she held pom-poms. “Absolutely!”

  “If you spell out her name in a cheer, I’m leaving.”

  The witch dropped her hands to her sides and gave me a toothy smile. “Ready? Okay!”

  “I like you better when you’re a drill sergeant,” I muttered and grudgingly proceeded with the lesson.

  Chapter Ten

  Rochelle's house was a tiny bungalow near the town border. The driveway was a dirt road obscured by overgrown bushes. I wasn't sure how I would feel about living alone in relative isolation.

  I parked the car behind the row of other cars and made my way to the front porch. Tiny fey lights decorated the overhang and two cheerful planters greeted me on either side of the front door. The interior door was open, so I announced myself through the screen door.

  It was Pam who came to let me in. She gave me a bright smile and handed me a red solo cup. “I was hoping you’d come. We’re out back on the deck making a ruckus. I'm surprised you didn't hear us from the driveway.”

  She turned her back for me to follow, and I sniffed the contents of the cup. Some kind of beer. I’d never been a fan of beer, even when most kids in my high school were hell-bent on finding ways to procure it, including hanging around in front of the liquor store until some easy mark passed by.

  The sliding glass door was still open and I followed Pam onto the deck where the other women were gathered. Despite Bonnie’s death, they seemed in good spirits, each holding a cup and laughing.

  “Girls, this is Ember, the witch I told you about,” Pam said. “Ember, I'd like you to meet Leigh, Cindy, and Rochelle.”

  “Great to meet you,” Leigh said. She was a slender werewolf with dirty blond hair.

  “Pam told us all about you.” Cindy’s light brown hair was cut short and she wore a purple dress that matched the color of her pixie wings.

  “Are you really a reporter?” Rochelle asked. “I considered doing that at one stage.”

  “You’ve considered every job at one point or another,” Leigh said.

  Rochelle laughed. “That’s what happens when you’re immortal. Plenty of time to try new things.”

  “I love your front porch,” I said. “It's so inviting.”

  “Thank you,” the vampire said. “I’m not allowed to paint or do anything too permanent because I'm a renter, so adding a string of lights and some plant life really spruce things up for me.”

  “You’re not allowed to paint the walls?” Leigh asked.

  Rochelle shook her head. “The landlord wants to keep the colors neutral in case he ever decides to sell. It’s no big deal.” She smiled at me. “There's plenty of beer, but if you would prefer something else I have vodka in the freezer.”

  “And Jell-O shots,” Cindy said.

  “Those are for later,” Pam said.

  “I’m okay for now, thanks,” I said.

  Cindy fluttered over to me. “Is it true that you’re related to Florian Rose-Muldoon?”

  “He's my cousin,” I said. “He lives next door.”

  Cindy's eyes practically bugged out of her head. “You live next to that huge mansion? I've driven by there a thousand times, but I've never noticed another house within shouting distance.”

  “My cottage is separate from theirs, but you have to drive onto the grounds of Thornhold to get to it,” I explained.

  Leigh scrutinized me. “If you two are cousins, does that make you a descendent of the One True Witch?”

  “It does,” I replied.

  The women collectively leaned back. “Wow,” Rochelle breathed. “If I’d realized I was going to have someone fancy over tonight, I would’ve gone all out and bought the good potato chips.”

  Leigh shot her a quick glance. “Aren't they all good?”

  “The kettle chips are fancier,” Rochelle said.

  Leigh shrugged. “I’m a werewolf. Chips are chips as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I’m not really fancy,” I said. “I’m from New Jersey.”

  “Ohhh,” they said in unison.

  Cindy swallowed a mouthful of beer. “Why would you live there when you're such a big deal here?”

  Pam pushed over a chair and I sat down. “It's a long story,” I said, “but the short version is that I didn't know
I was a witch until this past year.”

  Rochelle's eyes sparkled with interest. “You’re like a magical Little Orphan Annie.”

  Pam punched the vampire’s arm. “No, she's not. Annie was adopted by a rich, bald guy who wasn’t her father. Ember here wasn’t adopted by the Rose family. She is one.”

  “My father was a Rose, but he’d kept me in the dark about our heritage,” I said. I didn't really want to get into the whole story and get emotional in front of a bunch of women I’d just met.

  Rochelle sucked in a breath. “Your story is like the opposite of mine.”

  Leigh rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

  Rochelle balked. “What? It's true. Ember is rags to riches and I’m… not.”

  “None of us is riches to rags,” Pam said. “You didn't have money and lost it. You just never had it.”

  “Yes, but I should have,” Rochelle pressed.

  I gave her a curious look. “Why should you have?”

  “Ooh, see?” Pam said. “The reporter is sniffing out your story.”

  “I’m just interested,” I said. “I promise I'm not writing about you.”

  Rochelle flopped into a chair. “A good thing, too, because my story is pretty dull for a vampire.”

  “Rochelle thinks she's a loser because she isn't wealthy,” Cindy explained.

  Rochelle looked at me. “Do you know any vampires who aren't rich? I'm basically the only vampire in Starry Hollow without a nest egg. I don’t even own my own home.” She motioned to the house. “Immortality doesn't buy you sense.”

  “So what happened?” I asked. “Why do you feel like you weren’t able to achieve the same sort of financial status as your peers?”

  Rochelle finished her beer and set the empty cup on the deck beside her chair. “I’ve never developed worthwhile skills. I work in data entry. It's basically a minimum wage job. Before that I was a secretary, but I had an affair with my boss and quit when I wanted to break up with him.”

  “Is he the reason you joined this group?” I asked.

  Rochelle waved a hand. “Oh no, that was years ago. He was one in a long line of failed relationships.” She drew her knees toward her and put her feet on the seat of the chair. “It's no good being immortal when you can't find the right partner to settle down with.”

  “Someone get Rochelle another drink before she makes us all want to drown our sorrows,” Pam said.

  “I’ll do it.” Cindy zipped into the house with her fast-moving wings.

  “Isn't that the point of this group?” I asked. “To share your heartbreaks and disappointments?”

  “Yes, but Rochelle likes to gold-medal in relationship troubles and low self-esteem,” Leigh said.

  Rochelle picked up her empty cup and chucked it at the werewolf. “Don't pick on me. You know Bonnie didn't like it.”

  At the mention of the nymph’s name, the conversation came to a screeching halt. Cindy returned with a new drink for Rochelle and noticed the change in atmosphere.

  “I was gone for two seconds,” Cindy said. “What happened?”

  “Debbie Downer over here,” Pam said, jerking her head toward Rochelle. “What do you think?”

  Rochelle shot to her feet. “I’m sick and tired of you all blaming me for everything. I can't help it if my life has been one disappointment after another.” She stomped into the house, sloshing beer from her full cup onto the deck as she went.

  “You'll have to forgive Rochelle,” Pam said quietly. “She's been particularly sensitive since Bonnie died.”

  “Who can blame her?” Cindy said. “We've all taken it hard. Bonnie was one of us and now she’s gone.” Cindy snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

  “We were all friends with Bonnie,” Pam said. “There’s no reason for Rochelle to make it about her. For the love of Lugh, she’s a vampire. She should be used to dealing with death.”

  “Pam, have a heart,” Cindy said.

  Pam appeared to take Cindy's suggestion on board. “I’ll go talk to her.”

  “If there has to be a bright side to this whole horrific event, it's that we've all been distracted from our usual dramas,” Leigh said. “Bonnie would’ve been pleased.”

  Cindy fluttered to the edge of the deck and looked out over the empty field behind the house. “You're right, Leigh. Bonnie was the one encouraging us to keep hope alive. She really believed things would turn around for all of us.”

  “She did seem more optimistic this past month or so,” Leigh said.

  “Any particular reason?” I asked. Bonnie had seemed in a good mood during dinner at Palmetto House, too.

  “I think she was finally starting to feel better about her breakup with Jarrod,” Cindy said. “She’d made comments about the future and that was a topic she’d avoided like the plague before.”

  Leigh laughed. “You're right. At one point, she wouldn't even commit to a get-together two weeks ahead.”

  “I had a similar experience,” Pam said, returning to the deck. Rochelle trailed behind her. “When Hector and I broke up, I stopped making plans. I wouldn't even grocery shop for more than a couple days at a time.”

  Leigh shuddered. “I had to stop grocery shopping because every time I walked down the cereal aisle, I spotted the brand that Max kept at my house for the nights he stayed over. His meals were fairly regimented and he didn’t like to deviate. I'd have a breakdown right there in aisle six. The worst was one time it caught me off guard and I didn't have any tissues. I had to run down to aisle two and open a brand-new box before I paid for it. The cashier scolded me when I went to pay. It was humiliating.”

  “I had a hard time leaving the house, too,” Cindy said. “I was afraid of running into him.” She glanced at me. “Sven and I live only a few blocks from each other. That was how we met. We passed each other on the pavement. We both turned around to check the other one out. When we realized what was happening, we both laughed.” Cindy hugged herself. “I’d thought it was kismet, but it was really just another guy playing the odds. Turns out he did the same thing with every pretty girl he passed. Odds were that at least a few would turn around and look back. I was one of the chumps.”

  Pam crossed the deck to hug her friend. “You are not a chump. Sven is the chump and don't you forget it. Focus your negativity on him, not yourself.”

  Cindy managed a smile. “I’m working on it.”

  Rochelle swigged her beer. “I wish I only had one bad breakup story. I have a hundred.”

  “But not all breakup stories are created equal,” Pam said. “I still think Roger is the worst.”

  “That's only because he's the most recent and the one I talk about most often,” Rochelle said. “Give it a few months and someone will surpass him.”

  “What about you, Ember?” Leigh asked. “What's your heartbreak story?”

  I wasn't sure where to begin. It wasn’t easy for me to talk about my past, especially with relative strangers. I mean, I wasn’t at Alec’s level, but I wasn’t exactly eager to discuss the difficult parts of my life with anyone.

  “My husband died. His name was Karl.”

  Sorrowful murmurs followed.

  “That qualifies as heartbreaking,” Pam said.

  “Did you meet him in New Jersey?” Rochelle asked.

  I nodded. “We went to school together. We have a daughter, Marley.”

  “That makes it even harder to find a man, I'm sad to say,” Pam said. “They don't want to raise some other man's child.”

  “The good ones do,” I said. I thought of Granger and Alec. They’d both been willing to step into Karl's shoes, both as a partner and a father.

  “I always felt lucky that I didn't have any kids,” Pam said. “It's hard enough to land a decent guy and I know the more baggage you bring, the harder it is to find one and keep him.”

  “I don't consider my daughter to be baggage,” I said.

  Pam's cheeks colored. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

  “I still wa
nt a dozen pups,” Leigh said. “That's my problem.” Her hand patted her flat stomach. “Any time there’s a whiff of an opportunity, my clock starts ticking loudly. I end up scaring guys away. They tell me I'm too eager or they don't want to rush into anything.”

  “I’m still undecided about children,” Cindy said. “But I worry that the decision will be out of my hands at a certain point. With my luck, I'll meet the perfect guy right at the time when my ovaries shut down.”

  “Now you sound like me,” Rochelle said. “All dark clouds and no silver linings.”

  “Have you dated since Karl died?” Leigh asked.

  “Only since I've been here,” I said. “I didn't have time in New Jersey. I was too focused on raising my daughter and making enough money to pay the bills. Now that Marley is a little bit older and I have more security, I've been able to open myself up to the possibility.”

  “Meet anyone special yet?” Rochelle asked. “You can say yes. I promise I won't be jealous.” She paused. “Okay, I don't promise that, but I'll keep the green-eyed monster to myself.”

  “I have, actually,” I said. “At least I hope so. We’re only at the beginning stage, so of course, anything seems possible right now.”

  Pam's eyelids fluttered. “Oh, the honeymoon stage. My favorite. All the great sex and new experiences together. Getting to know each other on that intimate level. Now I'm jealous.”

  Rochelle pressed her hand to her forehead. “Please tell me there’s a downside. He's a massive troll. Or he has a unibrow that can't be plucked.”

  I didn't have the heart to tell the downtrodden vampire that my boyfriend was another vampire. “Physically, he’s perfect,” I admitted. “But there are other issues. For one thing, he's my boss.”

  Rochelle straightened. “I already told you that's a bad idea.”

  “He struggles with intimacy issues,” I said. “I mean, he has a hard time opening up and expressing his feelings. He doesn't tend to share a lot about himself.”