Chapter 8 #3
“There.” I pointed at the flicker of light hovering above a building in the Terrapin section of the Neighborhood.
Meemaw scrutinized the map. “That’s odd.”
“What?”
“It’s also indicating an abnormality here.” She pointed to a light pulsing above a building in Magnolia. Her building.
“Then I’ll check that out too.” I looked at the map from another angle. “Can you tell which condo?”
She glanced up at me, eyebrows drawn together. “Mine.”
Unease wormed through my veins. “It’s probably detecting the spell you’re performing. Magic would be considered an abnormality, right?” And magic was limited on the island, which would make this spell stand out.
“I’m sure you’re right,” she replied, seemingly unconvinced.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll scope out the other rooms and see if there’s a wayward shadow lurking.”
Margie poured another glass of wine. “Don’t leave me behind.” She practically stepped on my heels as I ventured farther into the condo. I checked each bedroom, closet, and even pulled back the shower curtain. Nary a shadow to be seen aside from our own.
But I already knew that would be the outcome because I knew what the spell had detected.
Me.
“You’re right,” Meemaw said. “Must’ve been the spell itself.” Her laughter rang hollow as we returned to the kitchen. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”
“Well, it isn’t as though you practice magic regularly anymore.”
She winked at me. “Right.”
“Listen, I know you dabble, Meemaw. You haven’t tried to hide it from me.” And I’d been the willing beneficiary of her rule breaking more than once.
“While we’re on the subject of spells,” Margie began, “would you be willing to green-light one that helps Bernice and Louise get along? Otherwise, you’ll have to put in a transfer request for Bernice with the HOA before Louise dumps her body in the ocean.”
“She and Louise still haven’t bonded?”
“Last week, Bernice asked her why she didn’t use magic to fight the aging process.”
I sucked in a breath. “Yikes. Has anyone checked on Bernice since then?”
“Louise says she handled it like a champ. Patiently explained that the kind of magic required exacts a price most sane people wouldn’t want to pay.”
“Has Bernice never watched a movie or read a book?” Meemaw muttered.
“I suspect she was only trying to make conversation, get to know Louise better. I know she can be tight-lipped,” Margie said.
“Insulting Louise probably wasn’t the way to go,” I replied.
“I don’t blame her for being curious. It’s a fair question, but I agree she could’ve asked it differently.”
“Before resorting to magic, maybe there’s something you can do to help them bond. An activity where they can get acquainted without leaving Bernice to do the heavy lifting.”
Meemaw raised her hand. “I support that plan because I can’t listen to Louise gripe much longer. It’s getting on my last nerve.”
This was now a security issue. Meemaw’s last nerve was a danger to everyone, not just Louise. “What about a game night? You keep it limited to the usual suspects, plus Bernice. Make sure they’re teammates.”
“I don’t see how a card game will help them get to know each other better,” Margie said.
“Not cards. A game that encourages sharing personal information. Little-known facts.”
A slow smile spread across Meemaw’s face. “Leave it with me.” Her smile turned sly. “And you’ll play, too, of course.”
“Oh, I don’t think you need me there.”
“I insist.” Meemaw folded the map. “I helped you, now it’s your turn to help me.”
“Let me know where and when, and I’ll be there.” Margie downed the remainder of her wine. “For now, I’m going back to bed. Square dancing wiped me out. Hope you catch this shadow soon.”
“Me too.”
Margie padded down the hallway back to her bedroom.
As Meemaw began to twist the lids back on the jars, I noticed one of the labels I’d previously missed. “Why do you have a jar labeled Buck?”
“Because I have strands of hair from Buck McKinley’s werewolf hide,” she said, completely matter-of-fact.
“Dare I ask why?”
“When I saw the opportunity, I took it. Werewolf hair can be surprisingly useful in spells. I keep a lot of pieces of Neighbors.”
“I’m beginning to understand your fascination with serial killers.”
“Oh, please. They’re not trophies; they’re useful.
Besides, I’ve seen way worse on this island.
Have you ever taken a stroll in the woods the morning after a full moon?
” She grimaced. “If you haven’t, I don’t recommend it.
The older those shifters get, the more mess they make.
It’s like they’ve forgotten how civilization works. ”
“I’m sure some of them behaved no better on the mainland.”
She snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. I have stories of my own that would give you nightmares.”
Same, Meemaw. Same.
“What’s been your worst experience so far?” I asked.
“On the island?”
“Anywhere. You’ve lived a long life. You’ve born witness to atrocities. You’ve presumably survived horrible circumstances at least once, if you’re lucky. I’d like to know what you’ve survived.”
All the air seemed to seep from Meemaw’s lungs. “I don’t think there’s enough liquor in my cabinet for that answer.”
“I was talking to Kaito the other day, and he’s had such a fascinating life.”
“The origami fella?”
“Yes. Did you know he was a plantation worker in Hawaii? Then later he survived the San Francisco earthquake in 1906.”
“Hmm. That is interesting, but since when do you engage in idle conversation about our personal experiences?”
Meemaw was right. I tended to shy away from sharing personal anecdotes because I had very few I could offer in return. Neighbors were nosy, perceptive, and worst of all, talkative.
“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” I said.
She gathered the jars in her arms and returned them to the pantry. “If you need specific information from me, Maya, spit it out. You know the only games I like involve money and edibles.”
“I swear it’s my own curiosity. I told Kaito he was a walking history book, but I bet you all have incredible stories to tell.”
“No shit. Why do you think we host hyaku monogatari?”
“That’s different. Your purpose for that is to scare each other. I’m talking about a meaningful exchange of experiences.”
“An exchange, huh?”
“With each other,” I clarified. “I’m still history in the making, as Kaito pointed out.”
Leaning her elbows on the counter, she fixed her gaze on me. “I think you and I both know you’ve packed more experiences into your thirty-five years than most people your age. Hell, you’ve probably had more remarkable encounters than half the people on this island.”
I broke eye contact. “You seem to think I’m far more compelling than I actually I am.”
“How about this? I share one little-known fact about me, then you do the same. It’ll grease the wheels for game night.” My face must have registered hesitation because she added, “It won’t hurt. I promise.”
“Okay, fine. According to Vanessa, I’m a Leo with Leo Rising, whatever that means.”
Amusement rumbled from her mouth, low and pleasant. “That’s your offering?”
“You failed to stipulate that my little-known fact had to be impactful.”
“Talking to you is like talking to the fae. Next time I’ll choose my words more carefully.”
“You could always compel me to talk with some kind of potion in my drink.” I gestured to the wineglass.
“I’d prefer the information to be offered freely. I’m asking because I’m interested in you as a person, Maya August, not because I’m collecting intel to use as bargaining chips.”
The twin flames of guilt and shame flickered within me.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I was still growing accustomed to this “normal” way of life.
In my previous one, information was currency and nothing more.
No one knew me; no one could without risk of harm.
If you knew me at all, that likely meant you’d tempted fate and come out on the wrong side.
In this life, knowing too much about me could get us both killed. My mind flicked back to the light on Meemaw’s map. I’d have to be more careful. One wrong spell and I’d put the whole island in danger, which was the exact opposite of my purpose as acting security director.
The Neighbors were under my protection—and that included protection from me.