Chapter 4
“It’s skewed.”
Simon looked over his shoulder. From a few paces away, Everett waved at him with a bottle of champagne.
Simon jumped the two feet down the ladder and approached, looking at the Aries Tech sign he’d fixed over the door of his new—his first—company quarters. “No, it’s not!”
Everett laughed. “I’m messing with you, boy. It looks great.”
It looked amateur, and the entrance was in a back alley no decent person would come to, but it was something. It was a start.
“Ready to celebrate?” Everett lifted the champagne bottle.
“What do I do? Break it on the sign?”
“It’s the company’s headquarters, not a ship,” Everett said with amusement. “How about we do it justice and drink it instead?”
***
The next morning, Simon packed his stuff—the entirety of one unworn shirt and a toothbrush—and joined Shanna in her little Beetle.
Jinx rode in the back seat, happily panting through the open window, as the car headed out of town and west, settling on the winding road leading through the dark green conifered hills.
“Explain this bond thing again,” Simon said.
“I can’t tell you anything more than I already have. It must be some residual effect from one of the rituals.”
“So either the one that brought me back a few days ago …”
“Or the one I performed in the first place.”
Once he got out of this strange mess and reclaimed his normal life, he was going to get real whiplash about all this witchy stuff.
It was somewhat easy to accept while his life was chaotic: he’d woken up in a strange woman’s bed, he’d missed three years, he’d died but not quite, and everyone else thought he was newly dead.
The existence of actual witches who performed spells and resurrection rituals seemed minor in comparison.
“Anyway, Gran will know better,” Shanna said.
Which is why they were headed to Spokane, to Shanna’s grandmother.
At least it would put him on the right side of the Rockies.
Shanna’s grandma was also a witch because apparently, everyone in his new life was one.
On the bright side, Shanna had given him the impression that Grandma Dolores was more capable and less prone to accidents.
And Simon could use a capable witch.
Shanna’s tendency to break furniture, Simon’s head, or his phone (which passed away in the early hours of this morning) was also the reason he was going along with this plan.
The bond allowed them to only be a hundred feet apart before they started yanking at each other in an invisible tug-of-war.
But that wasn’t the real issue. If Simon had to take Shanna with him to San Francisco as he showed up on the doorstep of Aries Tech and proclaimed he wasn’t dead, he would.
Who cared if there was a strange hippie woman with him?
What mattered was setting the record straight.
But what unfortunately also mattered was that his plan went smoothly, and he didn’t make things worse by showing up. Which would not be a given if Miss Accidents-Are-My-Middle-Name was there, attached to his hip.
Or should that be Mrs., considering that technically, they were still married—
In any way, while the bond persisted, he couldn’t risk it. He shuddered to think what would happen if Shanna came close to their production line or any of the display rooms. The woman was a walking glitch. Living with her must be an absolute nightmare.
“So how did you, uh, come by your affliction?” he asked.
“You know how some people are luckier than others? I’m not saying necessarily in terms of money or position, but in little things?
They find a coin on the ground. They win more games of rock, paper, scissors.
They prepare an umbrella, but just as they step outside, it stops raining.
” She glanced over at him. “I’m the opposite. ”
“But those are random statistics. It’s impossible for everyone to find the same number of coins on the ground, or win the same number of games, so of course, some will appear luckier than others.”
“What can I say? I’m a statistical anomaly. Dragging down the average.”
“Is that why you claim you’re bad at witchcraft?”
“I guess. My spells tend to have side effects, though usually nothing dire.”
“Except for this bond. Or when you tried to resurrect me but didn’t quite succeed.”
“Yeah. That,” she responded with a bit of a bite.
Simon lowered his gaze to his lap, contemplating ways to salvage the conversation, then wondering why he wanted to salvage it. He cleared his throat. “So, that crafting of yours. The wire pendants. What’s that all about?”
“I make them. Sell them. It’s my job, for now.”
“Oh.”
She glanced over again. “What?”
“Nothing. They look pretty. Very intricate. Good for you.” It wasn’t his kind of crafting, but he could appreciate good work. “Do the shapes have specific meanings?”
“Actually, they do.” She cheered up. “Every symbol has a different meaning—such as the pentacle you saw over the bed. I have one here, too.” She jingled a charm bracelet on her wrist; only now did he notice the tiny charm pendants on it were also made of wire.
She extended the hand toward him. “The spiral is for personal growth and seeking clarity. The triskele—that triple spiral—is for the power of mind, body, and spirit. And the little cross with the loop on top is the ankh, also called the key of life. It represents life and death and helps you reconnect with your ancestors, but you could also interpret it as the union of …”
He’d wondered why she’d stopped, then he realized he’d touched her wrist, trying to inspect the symbol. His mind must have really been out for three years, because he’d never felt such strange satisfaction just by touching a woman. But her skin was so soft, and smelled a bit like strawberries, and—
“O-opposites,” Shanna stammered, her eyes on him. “Like the feminine and the masculine.”
He dropped her hand and stared out the windshield. “Cool. Uh, interesting.”
The hours of their trip passed as little about their scenery changed; it was mountains upon mountains, with only the crossing of the sun indicating their progress.
In mid-afternoon, Shanna turned off the main road and onto a gravel path leading deeper into the hills, bringing them, after twenty minutes of a decent foot and back massage, to a rustic house that looked like a hybrid of a Victorian manor and a log cabin.
The porch door opened as Shanna parked the car.
Simon didn’t need to be told the older woman coming out of the house was Shanna’s grandmother; there was no mistaking the round face, although this one was half-hidden under big, round spectacles, and the voluminous hair, even though Grandma’s was bleached white.
Grandma Dolores spread her arms. “Shanna!”
“Gran!” Shanna ran to hug her, Jinx following close behind. Simon hung back until, after a minute of fussing and laughing and something about a circle in the attic, Dolores looked to him and clapped her hands.
“Simon, dear!” She walked over and cupped his cheeks.
Simon froze. “I—I’m sorry, I must have forgotten you as well.”
“Oh, we never met personally.” Dolores gave him one last clap on the cheek and moved her hands to his shoulders, patting her way to his arms. “Goodness, you’re even handsomer in person! And look at these biceps!”
In the back, Shanna facepalmed.
Simon itched to move away from the bizarre inspection, but if Dolores was the solution to his problem—and more capable than Shanna—he certainly didn’t want to anger her.
Even though he currently wasn’t sure if she was sizing him up as a potential grandson-in-law, or dinner.
“I’m so happy Shanna finally found a decent guy for herself.” With a final tap on his arm, Dolores released him.
Shanna bit her lip. “Uh, Gran, about that—”
“Well, come in, come in. You must be starving.” Dolores wagged her finger at Jinx. “I know you are, beastie. Luckily, I’ve got sausages for you.”
Shanna’s house was slight in terms of decoration in comparison to Dolores’s, and this one was mostly two things: plants and crochet. And plants in crocheted bowls hanging from the ceiling. It was as if somebody knitted an entire jungle and stashed it within fifty square yards.
“I’ll get dinner ready,” Dolores said as she left them in the living room and sauntered toward the kitchen.
“Actually—” Simon started, but Shanna nudged him in the ribs.
“You’re not getting to the point without eating first,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
In fifteen minutes, they were served plates of mashed potatoes and roasted pork with cranberry sauce, with sides of roasted carrots and broccoli, and a whole apple pie for dessert.
“She lives alone, right?” Simon whispered as he leaned closer to Shanna.
“Oh, yes,” she responded cheerfully, digging into her plate of potatoes.
Jinx got his share of dog-appropriate food. After indulging, he rolled up on the couch and stared at them with soulful brown eyes, hinting they’d better not ask him to move for at least a day.
“And now we can talk,” Dolores said after serving pie to Simon and Shanna. “I’d love to think this is a pre-honeymoon visit, but you didn’t sound so happy on the phone, dear.”
Shanna deflated. “There’s a small problem we need help solving. In one of the rituals, probably mine, a bond was established between us.” She raised her wrist to show her grandmother the tattoo. Simon displayed his.
“And here I thought that was to commemorate the wedding,” Dolores said.
“It won’t let us move more than a hundred feet away from each other,” Shanna continued. “You know more about bonds. Do you know what kind this would be? And how we could break it?”
“Why’d you want to break it, dear? You newlyweds love to stick together, anyway. Now, if it were the opposite—if you couldn’t get close to each other, I imagine that would present quite a challenge …”
“Gran,” Shanna said softly.
“Although kids these days, you’re creative—I’m sure you’d find a way to do the hanky—”