Poltergeists & Change of Life (Mystical Midlife in Maine #15)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

D awn broke with all the subtlety of a supernova in a minefield. I peeled my eyes open, immediately regretting the decision as nausea hit me like a freight train. Ah yes, the joys of pregnancy mixed with the looming threat of supernatural doom. It was so much worse because Aidon wasn’t next to me. His presence always made me feel better.

I hauled myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. My gait was reminiscent of a penguin trying to navigate an obstacle course. The mirror caught my reflection, and I grimaced. I looked like I'd been dragged backwards through a hedge, then run over by a steamroller for good measure. After relieving my bladder, I brushed my teeth and hair then threw on some leggings and an oversized shirt.

Waddling into the kitchen, I found Stella already nursing a cup of coffee. The aroma wafting from her mug was potent enough to wake the dead and conduct a full séance. "Morning, sunshine," Stella chirped. Her demeanor was so chipper it bordered on criminally insane. "Ready to save the world? Again?"

I responded with a grunt so eloquent it could have won a Pulitzer for encapsulating the full spectrum of human misery in a single syllable. My hands made grabby motions toward the coffee pot with all the desperation of a caffeine addict in withdrawal. I was no better than a zombie without it.

"Ah-ah," Stella tutted, whisking the pot away. "Decaf for you, momma bear. Doctor's orders."

I fixed her with a glare that could have curdled milk from fifty paces. "I will end you," I promised, my voice a low growl. "Slowly. Painfully. With a spoon."

"Love you too, sweetie," she grinned and slid a mug of what I'm sure was dishwater masquerading as coffee towards me.

Before I could formulate a retort scathing enough to strip paint, Nana bustled in. Her eyes were as sharp as ever despite her advanced years. She took one look at me and snorted. "Well, don't you look like something the cat dragged in, pissed on, then dragged back out again," she declared. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Pregnancy got your tongue? Or is it just the impending doom?"

I blinked, momentarily stunned by her bluntness. I shouldn’t have been. That was Nana for you. "Good morning to you too, Nana. I see you've started the day with your usual tact and charm."

She cackled, the sound reminiscent of a rusty gate swinging in a graveyard. "Tact is for people who aren't tough enough to handle the truth, darling. Now, where's that good-for-nothing mate of yours? We've got work to do."

As if on cue, Aidon sauntered in, looking unfairly put-together. He dropped a kiss on my head, a gesture so sweet it almost made me forgive him for his annoying perfection. Almost. "Morning, everyone," he said in a voice far too chipper for this ungodly hour. "What's the plan?"

Nana fixed him with a look that would have made me pee my pants as a girl. "The plan, pretty boy, is to save the world. Because apparently, that's our job now. Any objections? No? Good. Now sit down and look pretty while the adults handle this."

Aidon raised an eyebrow but wisely chose not to comment. Smart man. He knew better than to argue with Nana when she was in one of her moods.

Stella's eyes lit up with that manic gleam that usually preceded either brilliant innovation or catastrophic disaster. Often both. "I've been thinking-"

"A dangerous pastime," I interjected. "Alert the media. Prepare the bunkers."

She stuck her tongue out at me before continuing. "We need to neutralize that artifact before Lyra can use it again. I'm thinking a potion. Something to purify it, strip away the dark magic."

Nana nodded approvingly. "It could work. But the ingredients for a potion that powerful... they're not exactly stuff you can pick up at the corner store. Unless our local bodega has a secret 'end of days' aisle, I'm not aware of."

"Ugh," I sighed. "That means we're going on a magical scavenger hunt. Any chance we can order this stuff on Amazon Prime? I hear they're branching out into 'Apocalypse Prevention' these days."

Nana's eyes rolled so hard I half expected them to pop out and start doing cartwheels across the floor. "Oh, sure, princess. Why don't we just send Satan a strongly worded email while we're at it? 'Dear Dark Lord, pretty please with brimstone on top, stop being such a naughty boy.' For fuck's sake, girl, we're dealing with magic that could turn your insides into modern art. This ain't no add-to-cart situation."

Aidon's lips twitched, a smirk threatening to break loose like a convict eyeing an unguarded exit. "Trust me, my father's about as receptive to behavior modification as a tornado is to anger management classes."

Nana's glare screamed, 'why do I even bother?' louder than a heavy metal concert in a library. She then launched into a shopping list that sounded less like spell ingredients and more like the fever dream of a mad scientist with an Amazon Prime addiction.

As she rattled off items that probably violated several international treaties, panic started bubbling up inside me like a shaken soda can. How in the nine circles of hell were we supposed to pull this off? These days, I needed a team of engineers and a crane just to tie my shoes. Saving the world? Each day that passed I was getting closer to ‘definitely above my current pay grade’ territory.

"I have a suggestion," a new voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. We all turned to see Persephone standing in the doorway. She looked as regal and put-together as ever, which only served to highlight how much of a mess the rest of us were.

"How nice," Nana muttered. "Please tell me you bought useful ideas with you."

Persephone's eye twitched slightly. "The potion you're describing," she said, addressing Stella, "it's powerful, yes, but it's designed for a single practitioner. With Phoebe's... current state, it could be dangerous for her to make."

What this situation really needed was more danger. And a reminder of how whale-like I'd become. "But," Persephone's eyes lit up, "I believe I know of a way to enhance its effectiveness without putting Phoebe or my grandchildren at risk. A little divine intervention, if you will."

We all leaned in, eager to hear this divine wisdom, hoping it wasn't just a celestial version of 'Have you tried turning it off and on again?' "It involves a ritual," she explained. "One that channels the power of the celestial bodies. If performed correctly, it could amplify the potion's strength tenfold."

"And if performed incorrectly?" I asked, because apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment and nightmare fuel.

"Then we all die horrible, painful deaths and the world ends," Nana piped up cheerfully. "But hey, no pressure or anything."

Persephone's smile was strained. "Let's focus on doing it correctly, shall we? Positive thinking is key when rewriting the laws of magic and physics."

"Oh, sure," Nana snorted. "And I'm sure positive thinking will protect us when we accidentally rip a hole in the space-time continuum. I'll remember to think happy thoughts while we're being sucked into the void." My lips twitched at that. Nana was usually good for a laugh.

As Persephone laid out the components for the ritual - crushed moonflowers, black salt, and what appeared to be dragon's blood ink arranged in an intricate pattern - I caught Aidon's eye across the table. He winked at me, a silent promise that whatever came next, we'd face it together.

Persephone paused mid-explanation, and her eyes turned to Aidon like a heat-seeking missile. "Aidon, darling," she purred, her voice dripping with sugary venom, "why don't you make yourself useful and pop down to the Underworld? We need some fresh tears of the damned."

Aidon's face fell faster than a skydiver without a parachute. "Mother, you can't be serious-"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Persephone's smile could've frozen lava. "Chop chop, dear. Hell waits for no man, not even you."

With a resigned sigh that could've put a dramatic teenager to shame, Aidon vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke. Okay, so he walked out the backdoor. What? I was denied caffeine. My brain wasn’t fully functional.

The others dove back into the magical minutiae and debated the merits of clockwise versus counterclockwise stirring because that could mean the difference between saving the world and accidentally summoning Cthulhu. I found myself caught in an epic internal struggle. My bladder, ever the drama queen, was staging yet another revolt. But my stomach, not to be outdone, was making noises that sounded like a bear awakening from hibernation.

Bathroom or kitchen? Relief or sustenance? These were the pressing questions plaguing humanity's last hope. Well, at least the last hope currently waddling around in stretchy pants and wondering if it was possible to die from swollen ankles.

I glanced longingly at the hallway leading to the bathroom, then at the fridge. Decisions, decisions. Saving the world was hard work, but apparently, so was deciding whether to pee or eat first. Who knew averting the apocalypse could be so... mundane? The steam rising off the muffins Mythia was pulling out of the oven answered for me.

Just as I was contemplating the logistics of waddling my way over to the platter Mythia was filling, the air in the kitchen shimmered. Aidon materialized out of thin air, looking like he'd gone ten rounds with Cerberus and barely lived to tell the tale.

"Honey, I'm home," Aidon called out, his voice rough with exhaustion as he appeared through the portal.

I took in the singe marks on his clothes, my stomach clenching at the thought of what he'd faced down there. "That was fast. Did you find it?"

He grinned, holding up a small vial filled with what looked like liquid starlight. "One vial of 'Tears of the Damned’, as requested."

Persephone strode forward, taking the vial with careful hands. "Well done. Let's begin before the essence fades."

"What can I say?" Aidon shrugged. "I have a way with damned souls. Must be my charming personality."

Nana chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Those poor souls probably couldn't wait to help you out. I bet your brooding charm works just as well in the Underworld as it does up here. They took one look at those puppy dog eyes of yours and handed everything right over."

Aidon saluted Nana with a smile and then sauntered off to shower. Persephone and Stella huddled around the vial like it was the Holy Grail of magical ingredients. "Right," I clapped my hands. "We've got our magic hellfire tears. What's next on our 'Save the World' to-do list?"

Nana spoke up. "Now comes the tricky part. And before you say anything," she pointed at me, "yes, it's all tricky. But this part? This is where we either save the world or blow ourselves to kingdom come."

"No pressure or anything," I mumbled. "What do you need me to do? Stand in the corner and look pretty?"

"Actually," Persephone said, her eyes twinkling, "you're going to be our anchor."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly in ship-shape. More like whale-shape, actually."

"Precisely," Nana nodded. "Your connection to new life, to creation itself, will help stabilize the potion. It's like... cosmic balance. Or some such mystical bullshit. Point is, we need you and your baby bump. Plant your ass where we tell you, and try not to sneeze. Last thing we need is you going into labor in the middle of this circus."

I gave in and waddled over for some food. "I've gone from supernatural troubleshooter to magical ballast. My career trajectory is truly inspiring."

I shoveled muffins into my mouth like a starving werewolf at an all-you-can-eat buffet while Persephone continued her one-woman show, "How to Save the World in Five Easy Steps (Cosmic Catastrophe Not Included)." She dispatched Stella and Mom to our Sanctum, aka the magical Walmart in our basement. They fetch ingredients that had been there when I inherited the house and magic from Hattie.

As Persephone and Nana set up shop, transforming our kitchen into what looked like the lovechild of a meth lab and Hogwarts potions class, I felt a twinge of... something. It could've been fear doing the cha-cha with excitement, or maybe just epic indigestion plotting a rebellion in my gut. With these pregnancy hormones treating my body like their personal amusement park, it was anybody's guess. For all I knew, I was either about to save the world or star in the world's most ill-timed Pepto-Bismol commercial.

The ingredients they laid out looked less like a witch's pantry and more like the aftermath of a drunken dare between a taxidermist and a mad botanist. If this was what it took to save the world, maybe the apocalypse wouldn't be so bad after all. At least it wouldn't require me to touch whatever that was that seemed to be breathing in the jar labeled ‘Definitely Not Alive, We Promise’.

"Alright, listen up, you magical misfits," Nana announced, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "We've got one shot at this. One. If anyone feels the need to scratch their ass, pick their nose, or contemplate the meaning of life, do it now. Because once we start, there's no stopping. Clear?" We all nodded, too stunned (or in my case, too nauseous) to argue.

"Good," Nana grinned. She had a manic gleam in her eye as she began mixing ingredients with the flair of a mad scientist. "Let's make some magic, bitches."

And with that eloquent battle cry, our kitchen became ground zero for what was either going to be the salvation of the world or the start of a very interesting insurance claim. Knowing our luck, probably both. Bring it on, universe. We're ready for you. Maybe. Probably. Oh, who am I kidding? We're all doomed. But at least we'll go out with a bang. Literally.