Deep in the Heart of Hexes Read online

  “What?” Run where?

  “Now, girl. Run!” Hedda pushed Granny again, but Granny moved quick as a snake and grabbed a stick from beside the counter, before turned and hitting Hedda, right in the face.

  Lily stopped. Stared. Just frozen. “Granny?”

  No way.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  Granny lifted her cane and turned toward her. Granny’s face was crazy, twisted in a rictus of weirdness. All Lily could do was stand there, even as the cane raised and lowered, the head landing on her arm hard enough that she cried out, turned to run, her entire arm numb and limp. Oh, no. Oh, man.

  Bruja leapt at Granny, claws flashing, digging into that too-strong, so-skinny arm, tearing at her and Granny threw the cat, sending her flying.

  Somehow that was the meanest thing of all. “Granny! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Granny’s fingers grabbed her hand, eyes burning with a different light for a few short seconds. “Go, Lily. Hurry. Call Benjamin. Tell him I need help. Go, baby girl. Hurry.”

  She heard Hedda groan, the sound like a gurgle, and that was when she could finally move, run, her feet slapping on the floor.

  She got right outside the door, grabbed her phone from her pocket and dialed 911. She had no idea who Benjamin was, and she needed real help. Hedda needed help. Bad.

  “Please, please there’s something wrong with my granny. I think she’s had a stroke. And her best friend fell, too. Please. Hurry.” She knew her granny, knew Granny loved her. Something was wrong.

  Lily could see Granny in the store, dancing like some nightmare, stumbling over Hedda’s still body, cane smashing through a display case, into the front of Uncle Rocco’s old grandfather clock, and then she stopped, stared at Lily, then collapsed.

  “Hurry. Please. Please, come now.”

  She opened the door and ran back in, her flip-flops crunching through the glass.

  Chapter Two

  Marc St. Marc signed his name to the check, grimacing at it, just like he did every time. If his mom had been there, he’d have kicked her right in the curvy butt for her sense of humor when it had come to his name. She did it to get back at dad for getting her pregnant with twins.

  His twin sister’s name was Marcia.

  Dad did a lot of pointing at them and making “M” sounds. At least the youngest was named Katrina.

  Still, it felt good to be paying off the last of the liens on his grandfather’s land. He’d sold a patent or two, not to mention did a favor for an incredibly grateful Dallas socialite with a serious chain-rattling problem in one of those old haunted places in Hyde Park to get the cash. Now, he had a place to build a home for himself, a place where his grandpere had always wanted to live but had never gotten the chance.

  He sealed the check in an envelope and sat back in his desk chair. He loved his view of downtown Dallas, but he would be happy to go someplace with a slower pace.

  “Buddy? Buddy, I need you.” The sound blew through the room, startling him badly.

  Marc shook his head. Shit, that sounded like Grandpere St. Marc, his dad’s dad. Who was long passed.

  “Don’t shake your head at me, Buddy. Pay attention.”

  He looked around the room, trying to see if one of his sisters was there, playing a joke. “What? What do you want?”

  “I need your help. Brigit needs us.”

  “Who?” Okay, that was definitely his grandpa. What the hell was going on? Sometimes being able to hear ghosts but not see them sucked; it always startled him when one tapped his psychic shoulder, no matter how many times it happened. And who on earth was Brigit?

  “Brigit Killearn. Down south.”

  Well, that helped. He had no idea who the hell that was. “Grandpere, you’re not making sense.”

  The map on his desk started to spin widdershins, his pen rolling clockwise, opposite to the paper.

  “I’m listening! I don’t know who Brigit is!” Damn it. He slapped his hands down on the desk.

  The pen stopped, pointing to central Texas. Dripping Springs, to be exact. “She needs us. It’s bad mojo, Buddy.”

  “Okay. Okay.” That wasn’t far from his land. Marc wrote it down; Brigit Killearn. Dripping Springs. He assumed this was a family thing, and mojo meant magick was involved. He’d need his tool kit.

  “Soon, Buddy.” His hair was ruffled, the sensation weirdly familiar and odd, all at once.

  “I’ll go tonight. I just need to get this in the mail.” He’d have to get his truck gassed up, get some clothes thrown in a bag…

  He needed to check into places that supplied people like him in the area, too. Just in case. He had a basic travel toolkit, but you never knew what you’d need. He could do that on the way. His phone would do hands free searching.

  Something hit the back of his head. Hard.

  “Ow! Okay, now. I get it. I’m going.”

  He had no idea what was waiting for him, but he really didn’t want to get hit anymore, so he’d go see.

  Whatever it was, it was bound to be more interesting than listening to his sisters bitch about Mom’s new boyfriend, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Fuzzy. Dad would be rolling in his grave.

  Lord and Lady, he hoped Dad hadn’t heard that…

  Chapter Three

  Granny looked…mostly dead. Which Lily guessed was better than Hedda who was all the way dead, but still.

  Her granny was pale, sunken, and hooked up to a bazillion machines. The doctors said it was a cardiac event. They weren’t sure what yet. They had a battery of tests they were going to run, they had all sorts of scans and this and that and Lily had no idea what any of it meant.

  She just knew her Granny was sick, had killed her best friend, and Lily had an awful feeling that she was to blame.

  “Lily.” She heard her brother’s voice—the sound the same as it had always been. Her strong, brave Mikey. “Lily, I came. Susan brought me. She says just call and they’ll bring me home.”

  “Mikey.” She stood up and went to him, trying hard not to cry. Momma and Daddy were on their way in from Padre where Daddy’d been teaching some class on folklore and modern myths. She’d have to be grown up a little while longer. She reached up, ruffled Mikey’s graying hair. “Hey, Bubba.”

  Strong arms wrapped around her, Mikey’s weird cinnamon and apple smell surrounding her. “Don’t worry, Lily. Granny’s just sleeping.”

  Lily couldn’t decide whether to burst into tears or laugh. “She’s on the good drugs, Mikey.” Mikey had broken his arm once, and he’d loved painkillers.

  “Mmhmm. I brought my iPod, in case we have to stay here a long time.”

  Lily nodded, kissed his cheek. “Momma and Daddy are going to be here by suppertime. I’ll take you to Mangia’s, if you want.”

  Mikey lived for their pizzas, deep-dish with all the toppings.

  “Good.” He nodded decisively. “You should knit.”

  “Knit?” Where on earth did that come from? She made pottery, sculpture, not textile stuff.

  “People knit in hospital waiting rooms. I-I-I saw it on TV.” Mikey stuttered a little more when he was stressed.

  “Oh. Okay. I don’t know how, Mikey.”

  “Stupid girl.” Mikey winked at her, playing.

  “Monkey head.”

  “Bucky beaver teeth.”

  She laughed. “Not anymore.”

  Mikey shook his head. “I have pictures.”

  She squeezed his fingers, nodding, eyes on Granny. “I’m afraid I messed up. I made Granny mad, Mikey.”

  Mikey shook his head. “It wasn’t you, sister.”

  “Oh, Mikey, what would I do without you?” She knew he didn’t want to believe she could do any wrong, but he hadn’t seen. He didn’t know.

  “Be dumb a lot and cry.”

  “Oh my God! Of course.” She gurgled, the laugh kind of wet.

  Mikey chuckled too, and they sat, watching the nurses come in and out of the room, watching the other people that sat and stared, wide-ey
ed. It seemed like all they did was sit for hours. Once the police had left, anyway. She hadn’t told them that Granny had hit Hedda, just that Hedda and Granny had fallen, together. She couldn't believe that no one had questioned her story—much less the sheriff's deputies and the doctors who were supposed to notice when hinky stuff happened. Hell, they always figured it out in CSI, but these guys just…bought it. How the hell did they just buy it?

  Lily went to the restroom once, and Mikey napped a little. The doctors told her no change twice. Thank God her mom and dad finally came.

  As soon as Dad wrapped her in a hug, the tears started. She couldn’t help it.

  “Oh, baby. It’s okay.” Her dad was solid as a rock, and he patted her back hard enough to make her hiccup.

  Momma was talking to the nurses, her red-headed fiery mom just a younger version of Granny, her hands moving as she drilled them for information.

  “Daddy, she said the most awful things…”

  “Shh. You’ll tell us everything, but I need to see the doctors first, okay?” He pulled back, looked down at her. “Then we’ll go somewhere quiet and chat, hmm?”

  She pushed the tears off her face. God, her makeup was totally trashed. “Okay. Okay, I promised Mikey Mangia’s for supper, too.”

  She noticed that Mikey had been listening, and he nodded, looking so satisfied. He got fixated on the little things. Pizza. Video games. Pie.

  “We can talk after supper, if you want. Take Mikey out and drop him off at the house.” Mikey lived in a high-functioning group home in South Austin. He had three great roommates.

  “Okay. I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”

  He snorted. “She’s old, baby girl. This sort of thing happens.”

  “But I—”

  “No.” He put a finger over her lips. “You two go on. We’ll take the next shift, okay?”

  “Love you, Daddy. Tell Momma…”

  Her mother—who had ears like a radioactive bat—looked over. “This is not your fault, Lilith Diana. Go feed your brother. I love you. Don’t forget to feed Bruja. In fact, bring her to the house. She can chase Widdershins in circles while Deosil barks.”

  Those two Pomeranians were crazy, and they would make Granny’s cat insane.

  “I love you, Momma.” She smiled, or tried to. Then she grabbed Mikey’s arm. “So, thin and crunchy vegetarian?”

  “Ew! No, Sister!” Mikey grinned. “Can I kiss Granny goodbye?”

  She shook her head. “She’s in that room, special, so the doctors can help. I’ll tell her you came.”

  Mikey snorted. “She knows. She says her Ben sent a hero. A lion.”

  Lily looked at Dad, who shrugged. “Heroes are good, Mike. Give your mom a kiss, and she’ll pass it on when we’re allowed to go in.”

  Call Benjamin, Granny had said.

  She needed to figure out who the hell this Ben was, and why he was sending heroes. And how did Mikey always know this shit? Why couldn't her psychic brain wake the fuck up?

  Lily sighed and nodded to Mikey. “Come on. Pizza’s waiting.”

  Mikey linked his arm with hers and tugged her out, singing.

  She just wished it made her feel better.

  Chapter Four

  The backroom of the store was an absolute nightmare. Granny had never let her in there, only Hedda, but Lily was determined to find something for a new window display that would really draw in business. God knew that they needed that, now, if only to pay for all the glass Granny had broken.

  At least there wasn't a police investigation. Everyone just kept muttering about poor old ladies falling down and wasn't it a shame. Lily didn't even tell Mom and Dad the truth. She wanted to, for real, but…she just couldn't.

  Granny hadn’t come out of her coma, but it had only been three days. Mom and Dad had finally sent her back to Dripping Springs and, completely at a loss, she’d gone back to the store. Might as well open for business.

  She’d spent all morning fixing the damage Granny had done with her cane, cleaning up broken glass, including that stupid mirror. Everything looked almost normal now, and she put the buzzer on the door, in case a customer came in to the Cowbell.

  There were rows of the oddest little jars in the back room, filling dusty shelves. Boxes sat stacked on top of boxes, some elaborately carved wood, some sagging cardboard.

  “Lord have mercy.” She chuckled, a little nervously. Granny hated that phrase. All the jars were sealed with wax, odd random squiggly things drawn all over the fat little bellies of the jars. With her luck they all said things like “dead rat eyes” and “slimy cockroaches”.

  Still, they all needed a good dusting, and she started out with the feather duster, working from one end of the room to another, then turning back.

  God, they were stinky. Stinky and sometimes scary. Was that an animal foot?

  She dusted off the books too, bizarre books with titles like “Crones Book of Words,” “Practical Banishing Spells,” and “Demonologia.” They were in okay condition, maybe a little trashed out, but obviously not like the for-sale books in the main room, not perfect and unread and glossy. And not like Granny’s grimoire—which wasn’t perfect or unread or glossy, but it smelled like Granny’s hugs and made her feel good, to hold it, touch it.

  These must be the rare volumes, though why anyone would want a book on animal parts used in spells called, “Snips and Snails and Toadstools and Tails” was totally beyond Lily. On the second shelf back on the second row of weirdness, the jars got steadily smaller, and way more ornate. The lids had elaborate castings, like dragons and ravens, and some were quite pretty.

  This room smelled like Thanksgiving, somehow. Comforting, warm—if she could get rid of the dust…hell, if she could get rid of half the weird jars and box some of the books, she could put a small reading chair and a lamp back here. It would be a great place to get away; she was staying in her old bedroom at Momma and Daddy’s, as it was too expensive to commute in from Austin and there were no apartments to speak of in Dripping Springs…

  Lily sighed. She should have majored in law or medicine or something that didn’t even begin to translate into something that could be a shopkeeper…

  Listen to her and her damned navel gazing. This was why had Granny yelled at her right before the collapse, wasn’t it? Somehow Granny'd known this whole thing was a mistake, from paying for her schooling to bringing her to the store to making her learn all those…spells.

  Just about the time she started to feel sorry for herself, something caught her eye. She wasn't sure what it was, exactly, about the jar with the twisted vine on the rim, maybe a glint that made her want to touch it. She reached out, intending just to trace the vine with one fingernail, when a jolt of static electricity shot out, a big enough charge that she could see it, and zapped her.

  “Ow!” Lily stumbled backward, banging into the edge of the shelves behind her, the jars rattling as Bruja, who had refused to stay with Momma’s dogs, spit and hissed and ran out. She spun around, grabbed the jars, trying desperately to settle them.

  She heard the bell above the door buzz and she jerked, the jar on the end sliding off the shelf.

  “Damn it.” She fumbled for it, almost caught it. Then it bounced off her fingertips, breaking her fingernail, and smashed on the floor. “Shit!”

  The world did that weird thing, that thing where time stilled, made her heartbeats slow to nearly a stop. Just like when Granny had gotten sick.

  The floor beneath her feet shook, like a huge semi was driving through the store. Lily gasped, trying to keep her feet under her, but it was like the surf pool on a cruise ship. She heard a shout from the front of the shop, then the sound of heavy feet thudding on the old floorboards.

  “I’ll be right…” She swayed, the dust making things a little sparkly.

  “For the love of the gods, woman,” a voice roared right next to her ear. “Are you the biggest idiot on Earth?”

  Chapter Five

  Marc stared at the prett
y girl who stood in the swirling dust, which almost glittered as it settled. From the remains of the jar, it looked like it had held a spirit, most likely something that responded to psychic activity. What kind of moron let a poltergeist loose in a shop like this?

  Near-black eyes stared up at him. “You must have been talking to my granny. Can I help you?”

  He stared at her some more. “I was talking to you. You’re the only one here.”

  “You think?” Her lips twisted. “Customers aren’t allowed back here.”

  “I’m not—” Marc stopped shouting, drew in a deep breath. “I’m looking for Brigit.”

  “Granny?” Those pretty eyes filled with sudden tears. “She’s in the hospital. Can…Can I help you?”

  Oh, man. Brigit was in trouble, then. Grandpere Ben was right. He wondered how Grandpere knew this lady. Hell, he wondered how something this major didn't have a fucking mile of police tape. Brigit must have a glamour spell on the front strong enough to bend time. “It’s a long story. Look, I think you need to sit down. Does your granny have any tea or anything?”

  “I’m fine. I just. It’s been a long day. Please, come into the store. I’ll clean this up in a little bit.”

  Yes, but did she know how? He supposed it was better than her trying to get the broom and sweep it up, so he followed her back into the shop area, looking for a place to park her so she didn’t fall over. The place had taken some damage, but she’d obviously tried to clean up—there were marks from the broom everywhere, plus a hint of brimstone and demon, and… Oh, man. Something hard-core happened here. Marc tilted his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

  “Did your granny have symptoms of a stroke or a heart attack?”

  “Yesterday.” She pointed to a chair. “Sit. I’ll make you tea. Are you looking to buy something?”

  “Not exactly, no.” She had no idea what was going on. He could see it in her body language, feel it in how she paid no attention to the air currents moving around her. She was completely oblivious.