Chapter 1 #2
“Hungry,” Gwen replied. “Would you like breakfast? I have bacon and eggs.” Every line in her brow creased. “At least I think I do. I can’t remember the last time I went to the store.”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you.” I whirled back to Lydia. “How many times have I told you not to ask Gwen for magical favors? She barely remembers her own name, let alone how to do a basic summoning spell. ”
“I only meant for her to summon my grandkids.”
“Have you considered a video chat?”
“It isn’t right. They live so far away. How am I supposed to maintain a relationship with them now that I’m stuck on Evermore?”
I sighed. Lydia was right; it wasn’t fair, but it was necessary. “Next time, ask Meemaw or Margie.”
“You know they won’t help me. Not after the Howard incident.”
“Howard isn’t worth the attention of one grown woman, never mind two,” Gwen said, in a rare moment of lucidity.
I motioned to the elderly witch. “What she said.”
“Well, I know that now ,” Lydia stressed. “He moved on to Charlene, did you hear?”
“I try not to keep track of Howard’s exploits.” I tried not to keep track of any of their exploits, but their constant need to tell me about them rendered it mission impossible. “Why didn’t you call Judd instead of me?”
“What makes you think I didn’t?” Lydia said.
I gestured to my goop-covered clothing.
“He didn’t answer, so I called you next.”
To be fair, I was the right person to call. Although he was my boss, Judd’s experience with this sort of mess was vastly inferior to mine, not that any of the Neighbors knew that. I tried my best to keep my past where it belonged.
“You might want to call maintenance about the door and wall sooner rather than later,” I advised.
“I’ve heard Dean has a wait list for his services.
” The older werewolves sometimes forgot when the full moon was due and ended up transforming in inconvenient places.
The Neighborhood budget for plaster was higher than a builder’s.
“Who’s going to clean up this mess?” Lydia asked .
“You’re old, not infirm. You can handle it.”
Gwen did a long, slow blink. “Maya, why did you attack my wall with a lamp? I’m going to have to speak to your supervisor.”
No good deed… “I’m sorry, Gwen. The good news is that Lydia promised to help clean up.”
Gwen smiled at her. “You’re such a good friend to me.”
“I’ll see myself out.” I beat a hasty retreat before Gwen forgot, and we started the whole conversation over again.
The Neighborhood on Evermore was divided into named sections—I lived in Palmetto. Most of the witches lived in Magnolia. Many of the shifters lived in Terrapin. Each area bordered a town square with a gazebo for community gatherings.
Ed Moody’s presence in the Palmetto town square was more reliable than the rising sun. Every day ushered in a new sign with an Ed-ism. I glanced at today’s sign as I rode past on my bike. A bird in the hand is only worth two in the bush if they’re chickens .
Duly noted, Ed.
Goop dripped from my hair into my eye. I cut across the square to reach my cottage faster. A familiar black cat stood sentry on the front porch when I arrived. I dropped the bike on the grass and trudged up the steps.
“Don’t give me that look, Jinx. It’s been quite a morning.”
The cat followed me inside. I shut the door behind us and cleaned off Gwen’s blade. No way was I leaving the knife in her kitchen, not in her condition. Then I took a hot shower and scrubbed the bits from my hair and nails .
I’d write my report in the office, leaving out the part where I was marked for death. Judd would have a heart attack if he knew the dullahan would be back. At least I knew it would return for me and not someone else. That helped.
Sort of.
I wolfed down a bowl of cereal, refilled the cat’s bowls, and headed outside to ride my bicycle to the office.
Motorized vehicles were banned from the island, except for golf carts and the odd truck.
Dr. Adam and the emergency services team were also permitted to drive vehicles.
There were dozens of trails on the island, which meant the Neighborhood was great for residents who liked to walk, run, or cycle.
Like I told Lydia, they were old, not infirm.
I rode across the street to avoid Gerry McKinley, a werewolf and retired accountant who devoted his downtime to learning guitar and now performed songs outside the post office on a regular basis.
Today a small crowd had gathered to listen, which suggested he hadn’t yet played “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Well, he didn’t play it so much as create a horrific sound never before known to man.
That was usually the point at which the listeners dispersed.
If I were Gerry, I’d omit that one from the set list.
I parked my bike outside the office building and darted inside. I expected to see Judd scowling at me from behind his desk. Instead, the office door was locked.
“Good morning, Maya.” Miguel Torres tipped his Eagles hat in greeting as he passed me in the corridor.
“Go Birds.”
He smiled at the greeting. The vampire was a reluctant arrival from Philadelphia, where he’d lived on Elfreth’s Alley for longer than he should have.
He’d pretended to be his son, his grandson, and great-grandson, until the ruse was too difficult to keep up thanks to modern technology.
Many Neighbors arrived with a similar story.
“Have you seen Judd?”
“No, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Probably hungover from Buck’s party.”
“Buck had a party?” That was news to me.
“Apparently,” Miguel said. “Not like he invited me either. He likes me as much as he likes cheese in his grits.”
I snickered. “His brother’s outside playing guitar right now. Maybe if you go clap, he’ll add you to the list for the next one.”
“No thanks. I’d rather stay home alone and watch alligator videos.”
“You and me both.” I fished the office key from the bottom of my purse and opened the door.
In the five years I’d worked here, Judd Eckert hadn’t been late a single time, not even after a late-night bender.
The werewolf prided himself on his work ethic, which made his rejection by a police academy in Florida sting even more, according to local gossip.
I didn’t know the whole story, only that Judd’s boyhood dream was to be a cop, and he ended up settling for a career as the Neighborhood’s director of security.
I was hired as his assistant director as the population increased and the antics of an island full of paranormals became too much for one mere mortal to handle.
I looked at the empty coffee machine with a pang of longing. One of the perks of arriving after Judd was that hot coffee was already in the pot. Now I’d have to make it myself. Woe is me.
I couldn’t find any filters, so I stuffed a paper towel into the machine and added the ground coffee.
It would take a pot full of caffeine to get me through the task of completing the incident report.
Judd was very big on paperwork. If there was a bureaucratic method that could be attached to a task, Judd made sure to incorporate it into the security manual.
I knew I shouldn’t complain; my previous role was far more ridiculous and intense. Evermore was a cakewalk in comparison.
I called Judd’s phone and got his voicemail. “Hey, boss. It must be opposite day because I’m here before you and I made coffee. Call me when you get this.”
I drafted my report and emailed it to Judd for approval before it was sent off to Justine, the president of the HOA.
The office was eerily quiet. I glanced at the half-filled coffee pot, debating whether to leave it or empty it.
I was perfectly willing to drink stale coffee, but Judd was a bit more fastidious—or “not a fan of disgusting habits,” as he would put it.
I called him again after lunch, but I hung up before leaving another voicemail. Probably best not to call again. If he was hungover like Miguel suggested, he’d be annoyed that someone was blowing up his phone.
The sound of my phone alarm cut through the silence. A reminder for Cards at Meemaw’s . If I hoped to take my mind off the morning’s events, here was my chance.
I dumped the contents of the coffee pot into the sink and left my brewing troubles behind me.