Chapter 2
“brEATHE IN... ONE, two, three... breathe out... one, two, three...”
DeeDee’s docile voice rose ever so slightly over the chirping of birds and a babbling brook. The nature sounds were a soothing backdrop to the birthing class she taught at the community theater. Though, class was maybe an overstatement.
Other than Dylan and me, there was only one other couple—which happened to be the gophers who lived across the street from us. Janice and Trevor’s older children had left the burrow, and they were eager to hear the scritch-scratch of little claws again.
We sat on blankets spread over the rehearsal stage floor, the expecting fathers tucked behind their roly-poly wives as if we were yoga balls, their hands resting on our expanding bellies, while DeeDee directed our breathing exercise in her calming voice.
Much to my shameful delight, Janice’s sweatpants were even tighter than mine. She caught me staring and paused her labored puffing to offer a smile. “The doc spotted a seventh heartbeat yesterday.”
“Oh, yes,” Trevor said, patting her side as if she were a prized heifer. “Our biggest litter yet.”
“How many are you having?” Janice asked, barely containing her gloating pride.
“Just one,” Dylan answered since my jaw had come unhinged. “And maybe a cow,” he added, finally noticing my green condition. “Carino?”
“I’m fine,” I rasped, not entirely sure if that was true. “I just need... some air.”
“That’s because you’re not breathing.” DeeDee tutted at my lazy focus. “In, one, two, three...”
I obeyed this time and sucked in a deep breath.
Seven babies. Holy poppy fields. And here I was stressing over the thought of one. Of course, my smug size comparison with Janice was biting me in the ass now, too.
Damn cookies.
“I forgot that witches don’t have litters,” Janice whispered as soon as DeeDee’s back was turned. “Is this your first?” I nodded but kept breathing. “Maybe you’ll get lucky next time and have twins like Zelda.”
“Lucky, right.” I shuddered to think how haywire my magic would have been with two munchkins baking in my cauldron.
The therapy sessions with Roger had definitely helped, but many of the Shifters in Assjacket were still raw about my first trimester disaster.
The town was still recovering—and dealing with some unusual weather.
I was just glad to see more rainbows than rain.
“Don’t worry, sweetie.” Janice patted my hand, misreading the horror in my expression. “Even if you do have a cow in there, I bet one of those epidurals will make it feel as effortless as digging through peat moss.”
“There’s no cow,” I insisted.
Janice’s gaze dropped to my stomach, and her brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
I gritted my teeth, but before I could call her a cow, DeeDee cut in.
“A cow is no excuse for an epidural.” She snorted, clearly offended by the mere mention of modern medicine in her homeopathic bubble.
“Natural birth is always best. Even with cows—which aren’t much different from fawns.
If it gets stuck, all you have to do is stand up and let gravity take care of the rest.”
Dylan’s eyes bulged. “And let it fall on its head?”
“There’s no damn cow!” I shrieked, cuing a crash of thunder.
“Of course not,” DeeDee squeaked. Her eyes had dilated, and her nose twitched as if she were scenting a predator and plotting a speedy departure. “Well, I think that’s enough for today.”
We had ten minutes left, but Janice and Trevor looked ready to burrow to China. They gathered their things and scrambled for the exit.
“See you next week!” Trevor shot over his shoulder before ushering his wife out to the parking lot. I noticed a light sprinkle before the door closed behind them.
Dylan sighed. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing them at the party tonight.”
I crinkled my nose at him. “If you want to see anyone at this party, maybe don’t bring up cows again until the bat’s out of the cauldron and I have better control over my powers.”
“Fair enough, carino.”
* * *
THE RAIN STOPPED BEFORE we made it home, and I winked away the lingering clouds so the evening sun could dry up the backyard.
The string lights on the swanky gazebo that Zelda and Mac had gifted us—after my newfound weather magic had toasted the old gazebo—twinkled to life as Dylan and his cousin Nathan finished setting up the party tables.
A dozen hanging lanterns filled with my cousin Glinda’s electric lime green magic lined the gutters, and orange eyes glowed from the many jack-o-lanterns Asher and I had carved to distract ourselves from cookie cravings.
There were more string lights on the pawpaw trees and the privacy fence, too.
Fat white roses drooped over the back stretch of fence behind the gazebo, softly glowing in the party lights.
The magically-enhanced hedge had been a wedding gift from my cousin’s warlock date, who also happened to be my ex, Frank Stormcrow.
He’d grown it around the old cemetery at the back of our property that hadn’t been in use since our home’s church days over a hundred years ago.
Well, it hadn’t been used properly since then, anyway.
I’d busted Randall, a dirty dog Shifter real estate developer, digging up bones back there.
He’d also recruited my cousin Glinda—before she’d given up her wicked ways—to rally the ghosts into harassing the Shifters of Assjacket.
He blamed the strange phenomenon on me, of course, in an attempt to take possession of the Hernández house so he could bulldoze it and build condos. Or possibly a Target.
Glinda and I had laid the wandering spirits to rest, and Frank’s thorny rose hedge would make sure no one woke them again.
Of course, my batty beau was not thrilled by the massive, infringing bouquet reaching into our sacred space.
It was a nagging reminder of the man my mother would have preferred I’d married.
She’d said as much out loud. At our rehearsal brunch, no less.
“I just trimmed those yesterday,” Dylan grumbled, coming to a stop beside the table I was busy winking full of sweets and decorations.
I paused to bat my lashes at the fence, and a trio of signs appeared, evenly spaced along the boards.
Asher’s adorably uneven handwriting welcomed guests to partake.
Trick or treat, have an eat!
They’re fresh and white, take a bite!
There’s a bunch, so munch, munch, munch!
There were plenty of Shifters who enjoyed floral snacks, including my deer Shifter doula who had helped herself to the mums out front during my open house.
I’d already caught Roger nibbling on the roses once or twice.
Though I had a feeling that was only so he could get a better view into our yard.
Roger was a good therapist, but we didn’t call him Porno Cottontail for nothing.
“Maybe we should install a taller fence,” Dylan suggested, still frowning at the roses. “Just along the backside.”
“Or I could have Glinda call Fr—”
“No. Nope. Not happening.” Dylan shook his head, and his raven sweep of hair dropped over his eyes.
“Okay, okay.” I gave him a tight smile and a peck on the cheek before turning my lashes back to the tables. Cookies, candied apples, brownie bites, soft pretzels with cheese dip, cider... I wanted it all in my belly. Now.
There was a sharp poke of agreement near my bellybutton.
This party couldn’t start soon enough.
“There you are!” Glinda stormed through the gate, green electricity crackling in her short hair and at her fingertips.
Worry creased at the corners of her eyes and mouth, clashing with her skintight leather riding suit.
Her broom was gripped in one hand, and a wicker basket looped over her opposite wrist.
“You’re early,” I noted with surprise. Glinda was more of the fashionably late kind of witch. That way everyone could admire and envy her shoes before she dropped in.
“Here,” she said, thrusting her basket at me. “Give this to Roger for me, would you?”
“You mean he didn’t hitch a ride with you?” I asked, lifting the lid for a peek. “I thought he was your date for tonight. Did something happen between you two?”
“No—well, sort of, but he’ll get over it.” Glinda chewed her bottom lip. “Something came up, and I have to bail. Sorry, cuz.”
“Oh?” I lifted a brow, waiting for an explanation. She seemed entirely too frazzled for it to be something as simple as a hot date or a better party.
And it was highly unlikely there was a better party going down in Assjacket tonight.
Nathan was setting up a barrel for pawpaw bobbing, and Bob the beaver Shifter had chiseled up a fancy trophy for our costume contest. We even had a mini haunted hayride set up for the little Shifters through the pawpaw orchard.
“It’s Emmy,” Glinda finally blurted, pinching her eyes closed.
The ends of her electrically charged hair crackled and lifted with the admission.
“She asked me to terrorize a village with her tonight, and I know it’s wicked, and probably just a scheme to grill me about Gran’s lost fortune, but she’s never invited me to do anything before, and I swear I’ll only zap the villagers that look like jerks—”
“Your sister Emmy?” I asked, still not sure I’d heard Glinda right. “The one who hexed you with a mustache our freshman year of high school?”
Glinda rolled her eyes. “Only because her boyfriend called me cute, and it only lasted until homecoming.”
Toto shitting in a cyclone.
I harumphed, recalling the horrific acne Emmy had hexed me with throughout my freshman and sophomore years. I was constantly running to Gran for a potion fix, but Emmy never left me alone for long. I hadn’t found lasting relief until she’d broomed off for college abroad.
“You’re going to miss the costume contest,” I reminded her. Roger had gushed about their matching attire at my last three therapy sessions.