Chapter 8 #2
Calm down, Maya, I told myself. The cat could take care of herself. She’d been fine on her own before I came along. A moment of chaos wouldn’t faze her.
Then I spotted a splotch of black. Not a shadow.
Jinx.
Tears invaded my eyes as I sprinted toward her. “There you are.”
The cat squirmed as I attempted to hug her. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until now.
She meowed, blowing tuna breath directly in my face. I kissed her soft nose anyway. “I need to take you home.” I released my hold on her before she repaid me with scratch marks that matched Gina’s.
Vale appeared beside me. “Everything okay?”
“Of course,” I said, trying to sound casual and unaffected. “I was just checking on the cat.”
His face softened. “It isn’t a weakness to care for someone, Maya.”
“I never said it was.”
“You don’t have to,” he said softly.
Vale was wrong. It wasn’t weakness I feared. It was how that weakness would be exploited and weaponized against me should I ever be discovered.
“Would you mind taking Jinx outside? There’s something I need to do here.”
Vale didn’t hesitate. He gathered Jinx into his arms and exited the ballroom. I walked over to the main light switches and flipped them all on. The brighter, the better.
Gina stalked over to me, fuming. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Finding your ghost.”
People took the change in brightness as a sign to leave. Good. The fewer bodies in the room, the easier to locate a shadow that didn’t belong.
I walked the perimeter of the floor as people funneled their way through the exit doors. There was no sign of a wayward shadow. If it had been here, it was gone now.
I wandered outside to the execu-cart, where Vale was seated with Jinx on his lap. For the second time in a single evening, I was jealous of a cat.
“This is probably a good time to call it a night,” Vale said, rubbing the top of Jinx’s head. “All’s well that ends well.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Your help with Jinx. You stayed longer than you needed to.”
He stroked Jinx’s back. “Apparently, I did need to. Glad I could do my part, though. I know you think I sit in my ivory tower and let others fight my battles—”
“I don’t think that, Vale.” I didn’t. I’d fought by his side. He wasn’t like other deities I’d known. He stepped in when necessary. He cared about his people.
Part of me still didn’t trust it, but I was beginning to realize that was my own issue to resolve.
Vale hadn’t given me a reason to distrust him.
In fact, it was quite the opposite. He was showing up again and again.
It was annoying, yet also surprisingly nice.
If I was being honest with myself, part of me didn’t want to see him leave—which was precisely the reason I needed him to go.
Vale stopped at the cottage to unload Jinx and me, then continued to the HOA office to return the executive golf cart. I waited a solid five minutes before leaving the house again.
“I’ll be back,” I told Jinx. “Hold down the fort.”
A potential shadow sighting at the party was a major development that I couldn’t ignore. I climbed into my own golf cart and drove to Meemaw’s. It was later than I would’ve liked, but I didn’t want to wait until morning if the shadow was on the move.
I knocked on the door of the condo. “Meemaw, it’s Maya. Open up. I need your help.”
I listened for any sign of movement inside. I was certain I heard the sound of running water. I knocked again, this time with more urgency.
The door yanked open. “It’s late,” Meemaw said.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”
“You’re lucky I haven’t retired yet for the evening or you’d be in for quite a show.”
“Is this your way of telling me you sleep in the nude?”
Thankfully, Meemaw was still fully clothed. She wore a lime-green track suit with plain white sneakers. Rings circled every finger, including her thumbs. I wasn’t sure how she managed to function with all that jewelry weighing down her fingers. It was like resistance training for hand muscles.
“Did you have Bookstabbers tonight?” Bookstabbers was a book club that met at a coffee shop where the required reading centered around a serial killer.
“No. We moved it to tomorrow night. Too many conflicts tonight.”
“In other words, not everyone read the book yet.”
“Oh, please. We’re lucky if one of us has fully read the book by the time we meet.”
“Then why not extend the dates so everyone has time to finish?”
“Because we’re not there to critique literature. We’re mainly there to gossip and psychoanalyze the murderers and their techniques.”
“Any commonalities between the killers you’ve studied?” Maybe there’d be a nugget in there I could use to solve Darlene’s murder.
“You didn’t come here to chitchat. Let’s get to it, so I can get to bed where I belong.”
“I heard the sound of running water from outside.”
“That was my relaxation app.”
“Does it work?”
“So far it makes me want to pee. Speaking of which, what do you want to drink? Decaf coffee, tea, or something stronger?” She migrated to the liquor cabinet. “I’m in the mood for the third option.”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Meemaw released a low cackle. “You sure about that, sweetling? You see the hair on this small mole?” She tapped her cheek. “I’m convinced drinking this potent stuff is what grew it. This one’s so strong, you can’t even pluck it out.”
“Then I’ll stick with a glass of wine, if you have it.”
“I only have red.”
“Suits me.”
She pulled a bottle from the cabinet, pulled the cork out with her teeth, and spat it into the sink. Maybe that was how she’d earned her gold tooth.
“Most serial killers have a certain level of charm,” she said, as she poured wine into two glasses.
“Are you sure about that? I feel like there have to be miserable-looking serial killers out there who alienate everyone they come into contact with.”
“Those are called politicians,” Meemaw said.
“Ever hear of a killer that dresses up in a stocking?”
“A stocking? You mean like bank robbers that wear pantyhose over their heads to avoid recognition?”
“Sort of, except a body stocking that would help someone blend in with the shadows.”
“No one springs to mind.” She peered at me over the rim of her glass. “Is this about Darlene’s killer shadow?”
I heaved a sigh. “Yes. I think it made another appearance tonight. It kicked Nefertiti on her birthday.”
She set down her wine glass. “Well, shit.”
Margie emerged from her bedroom in a matching robe-and-slipper set. “I thought I heard voices,” she said, as part of a sleepy yawn. “What’s going on?”
Meemaw glanced at me, and I nodded. “Maya needs to locate a shadow.”
Margie poured herself a glass of wine. “Whose shadow?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want to locate a shadow, but not a person?”
“Correct.”
“But you don’t know who the shadow belongs to?”
“Also correct.”
“Do I want to know why?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to tell you.”
“Does this have something to do with Darlene’s death?”
Meemaw shrugged. “I didn’t tell her anything.”
I believed her. “I need your solemn promise not to share this with anyone outside these four walls.”
Margie tossed back her wine. “Hit me.”
“Darlene may have been murdered by a shadow, and I would like a spell that helps me locate this shadow, or the use of shadow magic, before it kills again.”
Margie’s eyes lit up. “A serial killer shadow? That would be unprecedented.”
“I would rather not have a serial killer on the island, if it’s all the same to you. One death is quite enough.”
“I have an idea for a spell.” Meemaw opened her pantry door, and I caught a glimpse of the inventory—row upon row of jars, each one labeled and stocked with herbs.
“Where do you get all those herbs?” I asked.
“I order them online.” She gave me a brief look. “Not to worry. I place my order through the official channels.”
“Why not use the community garden like the rest of us?”
“Why bother when it’s so easy these days? I envy the younger generation. The world at your fingertips.”
“You’re a witch. The world’s always been at your fingertips.”
“We’re not all-powerful genies,” Meemaw countered. “There are limits to our magic, otherwise I wouldn’t need to complain about hip pain or hearing loss.”
“There are meds for those.”
“And I take them. I don’t reject modern medicine just because I’m a witch.” She set a few jars on the counter between us.
“What kind of spell are we doing?” Margie asked.
“A diagnostic one that seeks out abnormalities,” Meemaw replied.
“On this island?” Margie scoffed. “The whole place will light up.”
Meemaw ignored her. “I’m not aware of a spell specific enough to find your rogue shadow, but this one should detect a mystical abnormality.” She pulled open a kitchen drawer and retrieved a folded pamphlet.
“That’s your instructional manual?”
“No, this is a map of the Neighborhood.” The crone unfolded the pamphlet and spread it across the table. “If the magic detects anything, the spell will indicate where to find it.”
Once upon a time, I would’ve come up with this idea on my own.
I’d grown soft on the island. Then again, wasn’t that the point, at least in part?
Yes, I escaped here to hide, but also to get away from the hard life that had been thrust upon me at a young age.
I should rejoice in the fact that I was not the one performing this spell alone in some gritty back alleyway, laden with weapons.
I was in the comfort of Meemaw’s kitchen with two helpful witches and a nice glass of wine to wash it all down. I shouldn’t feel so twitchy about it.
And yet.
Five years later, I was still uncomfortable in my new life. I was still uncomfortable in my own skin, probably because I knew the real power that lurked beneath it. The power I’d suppressed in order to hide in plain sight.
I sat in quiet contemplation as Meemaw chanted and tossed a mixture of herbs across the map.