Chapter 23 #2
She did—even more so recently. Before Simon had come back, witchcraft could be a struggle sometimes, not because she didn’t like it, but because she knew every time she tried it, she’d fail in some measure.
But her time with Simon and Chris, their unwavering support, had done something to her.
It blew away her fears and made her truly appreciate her work. Believe in her abilities.
“So, if you wish, the shop is yours.”
“You’d simply give it to me?”
“Well, you’ll have to keep up the profits,” Mom chuckled. “And mind you, they’re not big. But if you’re like me, you don’t require a lot.”
“How come you’re closing? You don’t seem to be tired of the work.”
“Of it, no. But …” Mom’s glance traveled over the endless lake. “Of being here, perhaps. I’ve run the store for almost twenty years. I’d like to move on. Travel some more before these bones are too weary for it. There are still many places of this land I haven’t seen. Other lands, too.”
Shanna’s heart squeezed. She was so close. After all this time, after having forgotten her, then following her footsteps, then finding she was alive, Mom was finally here. They were together again.
And she was going to leave like nothing had happened.
“I will say this … it’s going to be strange.” Mom smiled at the waiter bringing their food and sniffed her grilled fish with delight. “In a few days or weeks, you might start wondering how you got to have this store. You’ll have … forgotten me.”
Shanna swallowed, not feeling like touching the food yet. Should she play this game much longer? “What do you mean?”
“I’m cursed. You’ll be no stranger to those, I assume. My curse makes people forget me.”
“What did you do to get cursed?”
“It wasn’t me. It’s a family thing.” Mom furrowed her eyebrows. “I must’ve heard it from my parents, I suppose.”
Shanna gripped her fork, then dropped it onto the plate. “Your mom told you, yes. Her name is Dolores, though you don’t remember her anymore. She’s my Gran.”
“We’re not starting—”
“No, we’re ending this.” Shanna leaned over the table.
“Look into my eyes. Don’t you see they’re yours?
Look at this.” She pushed the letter in front of her, next to the plate.
“Isn’t that your handwriting?” She added the onyx bracelet to it.
“You won’t remember me or Gran because we’re cursed, just like you.
But you’ll remember events and objects. Tell me this isn’t your bracelet. Tell me you didn’t write this letter.”
Mom scanned the letter, her eyebrows steadily rising. Shanna clenched the edge of the table, willing her mom, the forces of nature, the universe, whatever wanted to listen, for something in Mom’s mind to come back.
Mom finally stopped reading and raised her eyes, big and pale and watery. “You are the Shanna from the letter?”
“Yes.”
“My daughter.”
Shanna’s heartbeat picked up. “Yes!” Could she finally remember? Did they break the curse?
Mom bit her lip. Her face was full of regret as she said, “I’m sorry for this. I’m sorry for leaving you. It’s been a long time, but I remember fractions of my trip back then. I don’t remember why, or for who, I did it, though …”
Shanna exhaled. “So you don’t remember me?”
Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She gave her an apologetic smile. “You’re a wonderful girl, I’m sure …”
But she’d never be her girl again. She’d never get closure, satisfaction, for the childhood she’d lost. The one she couldn’t even remember.
“So.” Mom dug into her fish. “What do you say—do you want the store or not?”
***
“I thought you were dead,” Stan said.
“Nope. Still kicking.” Simon tried to shift in the tight space under his work desk. “Would you mind letting me out?”
Stan stepped to the side, and Simon crawled out, shaking his legs.
“I don’t understand,” Stan said. His voice had never shown much emotion, but Simon had never known him to lie, either. As far as he could gather, Stan was genuinely confused.
Chris was still hiding behind the sofa; despite looking in her direction, Stan gave no signs of noticing her. Simon let that be until he was sure Stan was on his side.
“It’s a long story,” Simon said. “Uh, where’s Everett? I need to talk to him.”
“That would be good. There must’ve been a misunderstanding.” Stan glanced at his watch. “It’s one in the morning.”
“Right. Yes. Not the best time to talk.”
“Or to be in your office.”
Simon rummaged behind his back, trying to find anything semi-useful as a defense weapon on the desk. He grasped a pencil. Stan didn’t look like he was threatening him, but he was strong.
And so, so big. How had he never noticed what a massive mountain of muscle his bodyguard was?
“All right, I’ll come straight out with it,” Simon said. “Are you on Everett’s side or mine?”
“Excuse me?” Stan still looked confused.
“Everett pronounced me dead so he could take over the company.”
Stan’s smooth forehead creased slightly. “That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard in the last month.”
Simon’s grip on the pencil relaxed. “Really?”
“Not saying it is sensible. Only less stupid than the others.”
“Okay.” Simon leaned on the desk. “I’ll need you to tell me about all these other stupidities.”
“Hmm.” Stan looked around. “Not here.”
“No, probably not the best spot.” Simon turned to the sofa. “You can come out now. He’s fine.”
Chris’s head peeked from behind the backrest. “Not cool, dude. I was invisible.”
“I’ll explain her,” Simon said as Stan flinched, his arm reaching under his jacket. “Who’s up for a late-night drink?”
They found a still-open bar and settled in a corner booth.
“First, as I’ve already made clear,” Simon started, “I’m not dead.”
Stan only nodded.
“The rest is harder to explain. You know I had an accident three years ago, right?”
“On the way back from Vegas. I remember.”
“Turns out I died there, and then I was sort of brought back by”—who was it again? Never mind, even if the name slipped him—“a witch, but I was only a spirit, with another man possessing my body, until that got sorted out about a month ago. And now I’m me. Again.”
Stan stared at him, unmoving. “I’ll imagine you hit your head hard.”
“Or you can go with that, yeah,” Simon said.
“What happened with your girlfriend?” Stan asked.
“Who?”
“Dr. Guidry? Before all this shit started, you left with her. You said it was an emergency.”
Ah, shit. That was Raleigh, and Dr. Guidry must be his girlfriend.
The said emergency was presumably them leaving for the ritual which popped Simon back into his own body.
“Uh, let’s say we’re not a thing anymore.
” Wait—he knew that name sounded familiar.
He’d read it in one of the articles. “Is she the one involved in the funding scandal?”
Stan gave a short nod. “Although Everett says that’s been sorted out. That you signed a new contract for her. He didn’t seem too pleased with it.”
Simon buried his face in his hands. If Dr. Guidry had a bad experience with Everett, she might be on Simon’s side. But she was also innocent, and even though he didn’t know—or remember—the woman, he didn’t want to drag her into another mess.
“Okay.” Simon let his hands rest on the table and leaned forward. “I’ll need you to tell me everything Everett has done since I left with Dr. Guidry.”
Stan would not be making motivational speeches anytime soon, but even his short-and-to-the-point sentences gave Simon a good enough picture.
“So first, he said I was sick. And then two weeks later, dead.”
“I thought it was strange,” Stan said. “You were always so healthy. Even if Everett said the injury was hidden in your brain.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “He wouldn’t let anyone see the body until you were cremated. I’m glad it wasn’t you, though.”
“So am I,” Simon said, deep in thought.
“But if there was a cremation procedure and a certificate of death, there must have been a body,” Chris chimed in.
Exactly. The officer at the airport mentioned a death certificate. That was either falsified, or Everett had paid someone to claim a body was Simon. Either way, it found its way into the system.
“I couldn’t find anything in Everett’s email,” Simon said. “But somebody else must know about his misdeeds. He couldn’t have done it alone. And if we can’t find the proof from Everett’s side, we might be able to find it from that other person’s side.”
“Me,” Chris said. “I can tell them he hired me to kill you.”
Stan’s eyebrows shot up.
“Long story,” Simon said, then looked at Chris. “But also, no. Not if we can find another way.”
“What are you thinking?”
“A coroner. The easiest way for Everett to get a death certificate would be to bribe one to proclaim some dead body is me. And there have to be dozens of unclaimed bodies available. Pick one, call it Simon Montague, cremate it, and no one will know the difference. Except for Everett and that other guy.”
“If we find them, they will talk.” Stan’s narrowed eyes assured that was a certainty.
“But we don’t know who they are,” Chris said.
“The death certificate will have the signature,” Simon said. “But they wouldn’t issue a copy to either of us.” Although it was fun to imagine himself rocking up to the records office and, upon being asked what relation he was to the deceased, saying, I am him.
“We could see it online,” Simon continued. “Assuming Everett organized it, he’d have a code or a password somewhere.”
“I can attempt to get that tomorrow,” Stan said. “Since you’ve been gone, Everett poached me as his own private guard. Under the guise of that, I can gain access to his computer.”
“You’re sure he won’t suspect you?”
“He has no reason to. Until now, I didn’t know you were still alive.”
“Point made.” Simon rubbed his chin. “Let’s meet tomorrow, then. I’m still waiting for my phone to be fixed. Once I have it, we’ll track down that certificate and the office that issued it.” He gestured to the waiter for the check.
“Mr. Simon,” Stan said. “After this is done, you will be the CEO again, right?”
Simon smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
“Good.” Stan downed the rest of his beer in one long gulp. “I like this job.”