Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Two months later
Eleonore sat next to Ben on the couch, legs curled under her and head resting on his shoulder. They’d hosted their first backyard barbecue to show off their newly redecorated home. It was no longer a bachelor’s minimalistic, peeling-paint den but something brightly colored and cozy, with details that reflected both of them—plants in the windows, a sword collection on the bedroom wall, and bookshelves full of tomes about everything from horticulture to ancient history.
Eleonore sometimes couldn’t believe she was free to make a home, but she was. The curse was broken, and she didn’t have to worry about the Witch in the Woods ever again. Isobel wasn’t gone entirely, but she no longer had power over Eleonore. A mystically enforced restraining order kept her far away, and Eleonore had retained a lawyer to explore other possibilities for legal action.
Had Eleonore yanked out the witch’s intestines and knitted a hat from them? No, but strangely, she didn’t mind that so much. Her life of violence was over.
It might not be the vengeance she’d imagined, but when Mariel had shared the adage “The best revenge is living well,” Eleonore had instantly understood. Isobel didn’t deserve Eleonore’s time or emotion, and Eleonore didn’t have room for that hate amid the love filling her life.
That said, it had been gratifying to learn Isobel was suffering a bit. Lilith had gleefully taken on the role of Isobel’s new “friend” and was harassing her at every hour. If Isobel was crazy, Lilith was exhibiting the demon equivalent of what Themmie called “hold-my-beer energy.” Even if the two of them ended up enjoying Star Trek together—when Lilith wasn’t popping up in the middle of the night to scare Isobel or brutally beating her in duels—Eleonore wouldn’t care. She had better things—and better people—to focus on.
Speaking of those people, their friends—Mariel, Oz, Rani, Themmie, Astaroth, Calladia, and Gigi—were currently sprawled around the room in various states of drunkenness and food coma while a TV newscaster discussed the latest happenings in Glimmer Falls.
“The blaze started at two a.m. Thankfully, a frost fairy contingent was out late drinking at Le Chapeau Magique, and their quick reaction froze City Hall before the flames could spread.” The newscaster had a look of barely contained excitement on her face—a clear sign she had more to say on the subject and it was going to be juicy. “In their drunken enthusiasm, however, the fairies also froze the surrounding area—including the arsonist, who was found half a block away, encased in ice with a gasoline can in hand.”
“Who cares?” Themmie shouted, waving her alcoholic milkshake. “Get to the good stuff!”
Gigi laughed from where she sat on Ben’s other side. “Just wait.” She wore the hat Ben had knitted her for Christmas, which was topped by a pink yarn pom-pom.
“To everyone’s shock, the arsonist was revealed as none other than former mayor Cynthia Cunnington. She was thawed and taken to the police station, where she drunkenly confessed to lighting the fire.”
“Oh, shit!” Themmie shot upright, nearly colliding with the ceiling as her wings thrummed frantically. “Cynthia did it?”
“She sure did,” Calladia said. The blond witch was nestled in Astaroth’s embrace, the two of them sharing a velvet armchair Eleonore had purchased with some of her performance money. Calladia looked rueful but not overly upset. “Not that I’m necessarily rooting for my mother to go to prison, but honestly, it might do her some good.”
“Apparently the former mayor was drinking on the eve of her opponent Gigi Rosewood’s inauguration,” the newscaster continued. “She doused the grounds of City Hall in gasoline, then lit it with a spell. She also confessed to two other unsolved crimes in Glimmer Falls—the magical assaults on Mayor Gigi Rosewood’s campaign rallies.”
“Booooo,” Gigi called out, cupping her mouth.
“Hello, Captain Obvious,” Mariel said. She was leaning against Oz’s chest where he stood at the wall, and a few margaritas had turned the witch red-cheeked and giggly. “Who else would have done that?”
“Hear, hear,” Rani said, raising her wineglass. “We could have told them that months ago.”
The newscaster was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. “Cynthia Cunnington has since sobered up, gotten a lawyer, and denied the allegations, but the damage is done. The only question is what sort of jail time the ex-mayor might face for her crimes. This is Artemis Crumpet, reporting live from the impromptu ice-skating rink outside City Hall.”
Eleonore nuzzled Ben’s shoulder with her nose. “Remind me never to drink alcohol before committing a crime.”
He looked down at her. “How about not committing any crimes?”
She poked him in the abdomen. “Says the man who committed a felony for me.” She was giddy and flushed from an evening that had started with drinking Ben’s blood and fucking his brains out before the guests arrived and was now wrapping up with several glasses of wine. She felt full, slightly dizzy, and so content she might melt into the couch.
“Thanks, Artemis,” the studio anchor said. “Now on to today’s big story—the inauguration of Mayor Gigi Rosewood.”
“Woohoo!” Gigi said, sloshing the margarita as she waved her arms. Eleonore laughed, wiping stray drops from her cheek. Thank goodness for witches and their cleaning spells.
“Shhhhh,” Themmie said, listing to the side before righting herself midair. Eleonore eyed the ceiling fan, wondering if someone should shoo the pixie away from it with a broom. “I wanna hear.”
Despite the fears Ben had confided to Eleonore, Gigi cursing at Cynthia Cunnington had given her a boost in the polls, and she’d won the election by a decent margin. The inauguration that morning had been fun, with the entire gang showing up in bright pink shirts and waving flags. Gigi had given a magnificent speech about progress and the bonds of community while Ben and his parents wept all over themselves.
Overall, the future of Glimmer Falls looked bright.
“There was a record turnout for Gigi Rosewood’s inauguration outside City Hall,” the anchor said. “She enters office with the highest favorability rating of any mayor since the town’s founding.”
The broadcast cut to a clip of Gigi’s speech, and Eleonore grinned as she spied Ben at the edge of the frame, beaming through his tears. She kissed his cheek, then settled back in at his side.
The feature was brief, and Eleonore reached for the remote when the anchor started talking about the unionization of a local coffee shop. “Anyone up for some Star Trek ?” she asked.
“Hang on,” Ben said, snatching the remote from her hand. “I heard there’s an interesting segment coming up about the local arts scene.”
Eleonore sat bolt upright. “Wait, that’s tonight?”
Mariel and Oz looked at her curiously. “What’s tonight?” Mariel asked.
Eleonore pressed a hand to her chest where her heart tapped an excited rhythm. “There was a reporter at my last show. They interviewed me.”
“Sick!” Gigi said, bouncing on the couch. “Damn, we should have recorded this newscast.”
“Already on it,” Ben said. “I’ll make DVDs for everyone.”
“A DVD ?” Themmie asked, sounding appalled. “How old do you think I am?”
The rest of the group ignored her, leaning in and watching the screen avidly.
“—Finally, our arts correspondent, Cornelius Crabapple, sat down for an exclusive interview with local theatrical phenomenon Eleonore Bettencourt-Devereux.”
The screen switched to a view of Eleonore seated opposite the faun. Cornelius worked for both the Glimmer Falls Gazette and the local news station, and he’d been her most regular audience member—aside from Ben, of course.
“Eleonore,” the faun said, “I hear you got some good news the other day. Care to share?”
Eleonore’s cheeks felt hot. She hadn’t told anyone but Ben about this, and she couldn’t wait to see her friends’ reactions.
How amazing it was that they were her friends now, not just Ben’s. She hugged them and everything. After six hundred years, she was finally a member of a clan again.
“I am proud to announce a limited artist residency with Seattle’s premier experimental theatre company, the Wacky Warlocks,” the Eleonore on TV said. “I’m also working with a producer to expand the show, with hopes of eventually bringing it to New York.”
The room erupted in a cacophony of noise.
“Whaaaaat?”
“Congratulations!”
“Bitch, that’s great!”
“Hecate, I’m so excited!”
“Remember us when you’re famous, please.”
“I want an autograph!”
Eleonore laughed as the exclamations overlapped one another. “New York is a long way off, if it happens at all,” she said, wanting to temper expectations. “This is only the first step to bringing it to a larger stage.”
She loved acting. Every week she discovered something new—a new emotion, a new dance move, a new nuance to her own words. Even new interpretations of “Barbie Girl” by Aqua. The play was a living, breathing, horrifically bloody thing, and she was so proud.
She nudged Ben. “Thanks for ordering me to put on a show,” she said.
Gigi lightly punched Ben’s shoulder. “Yeah, thanks for totally lying about what was going on with Eleonore and then panicking and accidentally creating a theatrical phenomenon.”
Ben looked suitably embarrassed as everyone laughed. “You’re welcome. I will strive to always be just as anxious and awkward.”
“With results like this,” Gigi said, “who can complain?”
“Not me,” Eleonore whispered, pecking Ben on the cheek again. “You’re perfect.”
“Not perfect,” he whispered back. “Remember this morning when I nearly had a panic attack because I couldn’t find my Gigi Rosewood campaign T-shirt?”
He hadn’t been able to find it because Eleonore had tossed it behind the headboard during a prior lovemaking session. Oops. She’d found it and soothed her werewolf with a blanket burrito, sitting in his lap and hugging his swaddled form until he’d started breathing deeply again. “You’re perfect if I say you’re perfect,” she said. “I love you just the way you are.”
His eyes crinkled behind his glasses. He tapped her nose with his finger. “I love you just the way you are, too.”
He would always be anxious and prone to overwork, and he might never love howling and scratching himself on the full moon. She would always be impulsive and too literal, and she might never stop hissing or menacing misbehaving kitchen objects. But their rough edges fit together, and what more could a person want? Eleonore was no longer bound by the curse. She could stay in one place and one time long enough to squeeze all the enjoyment out of it, and she would grow old at Ben’s side happily and messily.
“A toast!” Calladia announced, raising her margarita. Astaroth mirrored the movement with his glass of red wine. “To Gigi Rosewood, the kickass new mayor of Glimmer Falls.”
“To Eleonore,” Gigi said, “the most exciting and unusual theatrical performer this town has ever seen.”
“To the Scooby gang,” Eleonore said, hoisting her glass, “for being the best, most supportive, strangest bunch of people I’ve had the fortune to know.”
“I have a toast, too,” Oz said. He smiled down at Mariel. “To love.”
“To love,” Ben echoed. “In all its weird and wonderful aspects.”
“To love!” the group shouted in unison.
Eleonore could drink to that.