Bedtime Fury Page 10

  “No. He was in town and offered to meet—see whether I needed anything—but my schedule was already booked for his timeframe.”

  “So you didn’t see him?”

  “No, you can check with Katy, if you like. She keeps my calendar.”

  “One more question,” I said. “Do you know anything about a supernatural plant growing on the property?”

  “Really? How interesting.”

  “More worrying than interesting. It’s spawning pod demons.”

  Deep lines appeared across his wide brow. “Are you telling me there are pod demons in Chipping Cheddar?”

  “You know what they are?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He shivered. The large hellion actually shivered. Now I knew we were in trouble.

  “Somehow a plant rooted itself on the Tasker farm and released spores, spawning pod demons. I was wondering if you had anything to do with that.”

  “Do I look insane to you? Do you know what happens with pod demons?”

  “I’ve had to learn pretty quickly,” I said. “So you had nothing to do with putting that on their farm in order to get them to sell?” I had to be careful now. If Brimstone had nothing to do with the pod demon, I didn’t want word to get back to the FBM that we had a situation.

  “By the devil, no. I don’t want to be taken over by one of those nasty suckers,” he said. “They’re disgusting, not to mention dangerous.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to believe him, but something in his expression suggested his response was genuine. “I need you to keep this to yourself for now. If my headquarters gets wind of this, they won’t hesitate to destroy the town and everyone in it.” If anything, that would appeal to his sense of self-preservation.

  “The whole town? What about my buildings?”

  “They favor gas leak explosions,” I said. “More believable in this world.”

  Brimstone rubbed the top of his head. “This changes things.”

  “You don’t want the farm anymore?” A silver lining, at least.

  “I didn’t say that.” He paused, thinking. “Let me know if you manage to get rid of them.”

  “Trust me,” I said. “You’ll know if I don’t.”

  I strode out of his office and back into the elevator. On the way down, the elevator stopped on the third floor and a man and a woman got on. They were both in tailored suits and shiny shoes. They were in the midst of a conversation.

  “Do you really think so?” the man asked.

  “You’re ridiculous, Gus,” the woman said. She threw her head back and gave a throaty laugh.

  I swiveled to face him. “You’re Gus?”

  He met my inquisitive gaze. “Yes. Have we met?”

  “No, my name is Agent Fury,” I said. “It’s my understanding that you’ve been spending time over at the Tasker farm uninvited. Is that true?” Despite her retraction, I could understand why Mary Tasker initially felt uncomfortable with visits from Brimstone’s henchman.

  His thin lips compressed further, a sure sign of stress—and possible guilt. “It’s a lovely property.”

  “And the Taskers are lovely people. They don’t deserve to be harassed.”

  “I think I’ve been doing them a favor. They get lonely on that big farm all by themselves.”

  I didn’t care for Gus whatsoever. “Maybe you should give your visits a rest.”

  “Is that a threat?” he asked, smirking. “Hard to take it seriously from a girl who isn’t even packing heat. What kind of agent are you anyway?”

  “The kind that doesn’t need a gun to get what she wants.” The elevator doors opened and I flashed a bright smile before stepping out. “Have a nice day.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I arrived home to find the house unnaturally calm. Usually late afternoons meant a house bursting with noise and activity because Olivia and Ryan were here wreaking havoc until one of their parents came to collect them.

  Right now was eerily quiet.

  A low growl brought me to the bedroom door of the guest room. The door was closed and Princess Buttercup lay in the hallway in front of it, giving the threshold her undivided attention.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked, stroking her head. “Are they excluding you again?” Charlemagne and Olivia were thick as thieves and sometimes their playtime resulted in the hellhound and the cat feeling left out. Well, maybe not the cat. Candy generally preferred her isolation.

  I clicked open the door to see Olivia passed out on the bed with Charlemagne tucked under arm. How a Burmese python could curl up into such a tight ball on a single bed, I had no idea, but there he was. It seemed playtime had worn them both out.

  I stood beside the bed for a moment, observing my niece’s serene expression. What was it like to be so innocent and unburdened? If I’d ever felt that way, I couldn’t remember it now. I wanted Olivia to have a normal childhood, one without the pressure of developing her powers or erring on the side of evil. I knew Verity was a good mother and would be a full supporter of Team Good, but whether the druid and I would be enough of an influence to keep Olivia and Ryan from the dark side was still to be determined.

  I hoped so.

  A piece of white fluff caught my eye and I instinctively snatched it out of the air. The moment my hand touched it, my skin burned. What in Hecate’s name…? I strangled a scream as the realization hit me.

  Spores.

  Princess Buttercup was on all four feet now and her low growl morphed into a far more threatening guttural sound. She wasn’t jealous. She was trying to be protective. Why had the window been left open? My family knew the risks.

  I glanced at my sleeping niece and it occurred to me that she could’ve opened it herself. The windows were old and easy to lift. I hurried to the window and slowly shut it so as not to disturb my niece. I didn’t want her to wake up and see me battling demon spores that wanted to take over her body. The image might scar her for life.

  Another spore floated past me. It was headed for the bed. I needed a weapon. My gaze went straight to the soft Maleficent doll at the end of Olivia’s bed. I grabbed the doll and started whacking at the spore. It reminded me of a delicate dandelion seed. When I made contact with the wispy white cloud, it broke into pieces and drifted to the floor.

  Another spore appeared behind me. Great Zeus! They were determined little suckers.

  I whipped the doll around and made contact. Olivia stirred in her bed and I tried to keep my movements as silent as possible. Not easy when you’re cutting through the air with a doll the size of a pillow. The breeze alone was scattering her drawings to the floor. I noticed a picture of stick figures in black clothing and wondered whether she’d been dragged into the Day of Darkness after all.

  For a fleeting moment, I thought I had the situation under control until another puff of white caught my eye. More spores? I spun around to see that the window was firmly closed. How were they getting in?

  Another one drifted in front of me and I saw that they were coming from the floor. To my horror, I realized the ones I’d batted down were multiplying.

  “They’re like Hydra!” I said. Cut off one head and two more grow back in its place.

  My fingertips itched for lightning. No. I refused to resort to magic for this. I could handle it without using my powers.

  But how?

  I glanced back at the sleeping child. Charlemagne was awake now, looking at me with curious reptilian eyes. The spores were hardly noticeable right now, but they were there, hovering and waiting for the chance to attach to a body. If I woke Olivia now, maybe I could get her out of the bedroom without a scene.

  I reached down and gently shook her arm. “Liv? Nap time’s over.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “School was so hard today. I had to color in the lines and write my name. My whole name.”

  “I think Aunt Thora has fresh lemonade for you,” I said.

  “Pink?” Olivia asked.

  “I’m sure s
he could do a quick spell,” I said. Aunt Thora used to make the lemons pink when I was young, until I told her my favorite color was actually blue.

  “Okay,” Olivia murmured. She stretched and yawned and the python uncoiled.

  “Buttercup, go with them,” I ordered. I had no idea whether a pod demon could take over a hellhound, nor did I want to find out.

  Olivia dragged herself out of bed and I kept one eye trained on her and the other on the hovering spores. Charlemagne seemed to sense danger and stuck close to her feet as she left the bedroom.

  The moment she cleared the doorway, I slammed the door closed behind her and turned to face the spores. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to take these little suckers down.

  “Do not make me use magic,” I ground out. Not for these supernatural snowflakes.

  They began to circle me like a spawning tornado. I spun slowly, counting each one. I made it to ten when the door swung open.

  “Eden, wildfire!” Grandma’s voice rang out.

  I dropped to the floor without hesitation. A stream of purple light passed over me and I watched as magical energy fried the spores like insects in a bug zapper. Their delicate forms disintegrated and vanished from the air. Grandma blew off her pointer finger as though it were a smoking gun.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  I climbed to my feet. “Good aim.”

  “That’s what happens when you play Little Critters,” she said. “You get lots of practice for moments like this.”

  “They’re so light and airy,” I said. “It makes them tough targets.”

  She gave me a pointed look. “What makes them tough targets is your unwillingness to use magic.”

  “I was making progress with Maleficent over there.” I gestured to the doll, now facedown on the floor.

  “I’ve seen snails on a highway make more progress.”

  “Olivia is fine,” I said. “The spores are gone.” For now.

  “That plant is a menace. You need to get rid of it.”

  “As soon as I figure out how to do it without risking lives and limbs, I will.”

  “You’re risking lives and limbs by doing nothing and letting the seeds spread all over town in the meantime,” Grandma said. “Sometimes you have to dispense with the looking and just leap. Your caution is working against you.”

  “This isn’t a game of Little Critters,” I objected. “There are real consequences if I handle it wrong.” I wasn’t above asking for help, but, in this case, the help would mean decimating the whole town.

  “What about the dwarf?” Grandma asked. “Doesn’t he have any bright ideas?”

  “He’s not a dwarf,” I said. “Neville’s a wizard.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Then he must be a hybrid. Some poor dwarf must’ve gotten her panties talked off by a silver-tongued wizard.”

  I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to lock Grandma in a room full of spores. “Neville is all wizard.”

  She raised her brow. “You’ve seen all of him, have you? I thought you were too hung up on the chief. Then again, the dwarf is a supernatural and the chief…isn’t.”

  “Thank you for dealing with the spores,” I said. “Now please be quiet.”

  “Ungrateful spawn,” Grandma muttered.

  I stomped out of the room. “I won’t be home for dinner.”

  “Why not? Where are you going?”

  “Chophouse,” I said.

  It was time to ask for help.

  As much as I hated to drag the supernatural council to Chophouse for an emergency meeting, I knew it was my duty to update them on the situation. They’d need to take precautions and, more importantly, I needed their cumulative years of supernatural experience—Aggie Grace in particular.

  A hostess caught sight of me as I entered the restaurant. “Miss Fury, are we expecting you this evening?”

  “It’s a last minute thing,” I said. “Is Rafael here?”

  “In the kitchen,” she said.

  I needed to update him as well because I didn’t want any pod demons infiltrating his house either. I knew I could trust him not to panic.

  The flamboyant wizard was at the prep table, calmly slicing and dicing onions on the chopping board. My eyes immediately stung. Some fury I was. I couldn’t handle cutting raw onions even when someone else held the blade.

  “Hey, cousin,” I said. “There’s about to be an impromptu meeting in the back room. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Rafael gave me a bland smile and moved on to the next onion. “Not a problem. Chophouse is your house. You know that.”

  “What are you making?” I asked. Through my damp, burning eyelids, I noticed bowls of ingredients already set on the table.

  “I’m trying a new recipe,” he replied. “I got the idea from a spell I conjured last week. A nice blend of herbs that you wouldn’t typically put together.”

  A ‘nice’ blend? That description was a bit subdued for Rafael. “I love how your two worlds are so intertwined,” I said. “Your work in magic ends up influencing your culinary work.”

  “I guess it does,” he mused. He reached for another onion. “It’s not that surprising really. Lots of cutting and stirring in both, isn’t there? Although hardly anybody uses a cauldron anymore. They’re unnecessarily large and heavy.”

  I stared at my cousin. Where was his passion? His zeal? “Cutting and stirring?” I repeated.

  Rafael continued to slice without his usual finesse. “I think basic culinary skills should be required of any witch or wizard.”

  “But one does not simply cut the eye of newt,” I objected. “One must dice it.”

  Rafael stopped slicing and peered at me. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat. I can’t say the same for an eye of newt.” He glanced down at the chopping board. “Or an onion.”

  Great balls of a minotaur. This didn’t sound like my cousin at all. I had the sinking sensation that I was talking to a pod demon.

  “Good luck with your recipe,” I said. “I should head to the back room before the others get there.”

  “I’ll be in to serve you shortly,” Rafael said.

  I waved him off. “You know what? It’s not our usual monthly meeting so we don’t need service, but thanks. You just concentrate on restaurant duties.” If Rafael had been taken over, then I certainly didn’t want him to overhear any of the discussion and report back to the rest of the invaders.

  “Whatever works best for you, Eden,” Rafael said. “I’m here to help.”

  I struggled to keep my eyes from rolling. Rafael would never say that. I mean, he’d help, of course, but he wouldn’t be quite so normal about it.

  I left the kitchen, careful to keep an unhurried pace so as not to alert him to my suspicions. I wove in and out of the tables until I reached the private room at the back of the restaurant where we held our meetings. Despite my efforts to be early, I was the last one to arrive.

  “Oh, wow. Everyone’s on time,” I said. “In that case, we may as well get right to it.” I took a seat between Husbourne Crawley and Aggie.

  “No food?” Aggie asked, disappointed.

  “Not now,” I said. “We need to talk about something important.”

  “You’re darn right,” Husbourne said. “Hugh just told me that he’s decided to take the potion.” Between his pale linen suit, Southern drawl, and wizardly ways, Husbourne was a cross between Gandalf and Foghorn Leghorn.

  “The potion?” I asked. Hugh Phelps is one of the few werewolves in town that insists on regularly shifting. Other wolves, like my cousins Julie and Meg, take a potion that blocks their transformation.

  Hugh stretched his muscular arms. “Why bother? I have an acceptable human form. It seems a waste to switch to something more primitive when I have everything I need exactly as I am. Keeps things simple. I’m all in favor of simple.”

  Hugh Phelps was content with his human form? More like a pod demon was content with it. This was more bad news. The pod demons had in
filtrated more bodies than I realized.

  I could feel the weight of Adele’s stare from across the table. The matriarch of the LeRoux coven wasn’t going to accept Hugh’s declaration without an inquiry. It was too out of character.

  “You imported a mail order werewolf bride because you’re so invested in your werewolf side, but now you’re…content to be human?” Adele asked.

  Hugh splayed his hands behind his head. “Change is inevitable.”

  Adele frowned at him, unsure what to think.

  Aggie threaded her fingers together. “So what’s this emergency meeting about, Eden? If we’re not going to order food, let’s get this over with. My sister is making a mushroom risotto. If I don’t get home early enough, I’ll miss out.”

  My gaze darted to Hugh. I couldn’t let him listen to our conversation and report back to the other pod demons. I wasn’t sure how it worked—whether there was a telepathic connection between them all or something else. The thought of a growing network of demons made me shudder.

  “I know I’ve bungled this up,” I said, “but the truth is, Hugh wasn’t meant to be invited.”

  “Why not?” Hugh asked.

  “It’s about your wedding gift,” I said. “The council is going in on a gift together and we’ve completely dropped the ball. I was hoping to get it sorted now.”

  Hugh smiled. “That’s kind of you all.” He shifted to his feet. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “Sorry about the inconvenience,” I said.

  “No problem at all. It just means more time to spend with my bride.” Hugh’s long strides took him across the room in a matter of seconds and he closed the door behind him.

  “Why not have a group text about the gift?” Aggie asked. “No need to interrupt my artwork for this.”

  “It’s not about a gift,” I said. “Hugh’s been compromised.”

  “His behavior is certainly odd,” Adele said. “How has he been compromised?”

  I explained about the pod demons and the plant I found on the Tasker farm.

  Aggie rubbed her temples. “You’re telling us that Hugh Phelps has been taken over by a pod demon?”

  “I think so,” I said. “The Hugh we know is a hardline werewolf. He would never be satisfied with a human body.”