Hoodoo and Just Desserts Read online

  “You alright, Mazie? You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,” she asked, obviously concerned. I chuckled a bit, brushing her off.

  “Isn’t that how I always look? Listen, Becky, I need to ask you a huge favor,” I began, almost beginning to sweat at the look of dismay she was directing towards me. “I hate to leave you here alone all day, especially with mop and broom duty. I’ll just be out a few hours, and then... I’ll come back and clean the bathrooms, so you don’t have to,” I said in a rush, knowing I would regret the offer as soon as I stepped into the public restroom. Becky looked unsure for a moment before smiling, shaking her head a bit.

  “You worry too much. I’ll cover for you, don’t worry about it. I may hold you to the bathroom offer, though,” she winked, glancing towards the door where Fern was anxiously peering in at us. I might have laughed if I wasn’t positive it would infuriate my already exhausted sister. If she got too annoyed, I would have a harder time convincing her to let me come along. “Well, your sister looks worried about... whatever it is, the two of you are doing,” Becky smiled, giving me a gentle nudge towards the door.

  “You’re a saint, Becky. I’ll make it up to you sometime, I swear. Scout’s honor,” I called over my shoulder as I strode back to the door.

  “You weren’t even in the scouts, were you?” She called after me, sounding amused.

  “I really wanted to be. That’s all that matters,” I muttered to myself, pushing out the door as soon as Fern stepped aside. She looked at me with a mixture of excitement and dread, and although I was tempted to mess with her a bit, I reached out to grab her by the wrist and tug her to her car. “I told Becky I’d be back in a few hours. Do you think that’s doable?” I inquired hesitantly, squeaking as my sister pulled me in for a tight embrace.

  “More than enough time, I’m sure. After all, once we’re there, things sort of have a way of... well, kicking in,” Fern chuckled, moving to get in the driver’s seat of the car. I slid into the passenger seat, immediately switching her radio from the country music she liked to a more progressive rock station. She rolled her eyes, shifting the car into gear. “Do you have to mess up my stations every time you get in the car?” She asked, not seeming to expect an answer.

  “Your stations need a little more excitement. Anyway, I’m a little nervous, so I thought this would be okay,” I argued weakly, dejectedly pressing the button for the main station and sagging in my seat. Fern was quiet for what seemed an eternity before sighing and switching the radio back to my station.

  “Only because you’re probably gonna keep me from making a fool of myself,” she muttered. The fact that she could get injured hung in the air over our heads, unspoken.

  It really didn’t need to be said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Stepping into the Morgue was about as chilling as I expected. The idea of all the bodies tucked away in that single room gave me the willies, though Fern looked even worse off than I did. I wondered if she was already having the beginnings of visions, and as her eyes glazed over, I knew I had hit the nail on the head. She staggered a bit, feeling along the wall as she walked. I stayed close to her side, gripping her free hand in my own in an attempt to keep her at least faintly grounded.

  “Lots of... heh,” Fern trailed off breathlessly, lurching forward a bit. I kept her on her feet, seeking out the drawer that would inevitably be marked with Dickney’s name. Fern was swept up in her own mind, and I knew that things could only go downhill, the longer she subjected herself to her visions. A one on one session with the... the body usually worked better, but even then she had to open her mind to a lot of backlash. From what she told me, they were brief clips, like watching a movie that skipped from one scene to the next in an erratic manner. I couldn’t begin to understand, and it was all I could do to keep my calm as I had to essentially drag her away from a drawer that was half open.

  “Fern... Fern, listen. Focus. We need Dickney. The rest of this is irrelevant,” I said quietly, and although I felt bad for the other lives lost, we had a task to focus on.

  “Murdered by her mother’s fiancee. Stabbed thirty six times. She was alive for the first twenty,” Fern said distantly, casting a final glance back at the half-open drawer before stumbling along beside me. A sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach, and I had a feeling this would be one of those nights where Fern was too distraught to sleep. For the moment, she simply seemed to catalog the information in the back of her mind before moving on to trail behind me.

  When I finally found the drawer marked “Dickney” I nearly leapt for joy. Instead, I gently guided Fern closer, getting her as close to the body as I was willing to risk. All at once, her body went stiff, and she stared straight ahead. Her mouth worked wordlessly, a brief flicker of anger appearing on her face before being replaced with fear. The emotions seemed to alternate, and all the while, her lips continued to move nonstop. Suddenly, she breathed in a deep gasp of air and seemed to falter. I was quick to grab her, grunting a bit as I realized how heavy she was. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one packing on the pounds, but that really shouldn’t have been crossing my mind.

  With some effort, I managed to drag her out of the morgue and back into the city sidewalk. The cloudiness in her eyes began to clear, and for a moment her lip quivered and her eyes watered. Then, she inhaled a steeling breath, wiped her eyes, and gestured for me to follow her.

  “Dickney’s imprint wasn’t so bad. As far as I could tell, it was just him locked in a heated argument with his business partner. I felt his fear, but... I couldn’t tell if it was the night he was murdered, or hell, even some weeks ago,” she muttered a bit derisively, and I frowned, reaching out to grip her shoulder. “It’s not exactly evidence I can present to a court, but...,” she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder. “The girl was only fifteen. Lydia Bates. I’ll need to remember that name,” she muttered absently, and I wasn’t about to argue. Instead, I pulled her the final distance to her car and took her place at the driver’s side. When she looked at me with a blatantly confused expression, I laughed a bit.

  “You’re in no shape to be driving right now, Fern. I’m going to take you home, then I can walk back to the museum. You need to get some rest. Usually one body doesn't take it out of you, but when faced with a bunch in a morgue...well that's too much,” I said quietly, all too prepared to listen to her argue. I wasn’t going to back down this time, though. I glanced to the passenger seat, where I was startled to see Fern curled up against the door, snoring softly. Well, it was better than an argument. As I pulled into our cottage, I debated dragging her in the house, but was unsure whether she would want me to wake her. I gave her a little shake, speaking calmly when she jolted upright. “Bed, Fern,” I ordered. She hesitated, staring at our house.

  “I should really get back to work,” she said quietly, though it was clear she wanted nothing more than to disappear for a few hours.

  “If anyone asks, I’ll say you got sick and needed to rest for a little while. Just go to bed, Fern. I’ll be home in a few hours, and you better be here to say hello and goodbye before you disappear for the night,” I said sternly, rolling my eyes at her amused expression.

  “Alright. I guess that will have to do,” Fern mumbled, all but staggering out of the car to our front step. I watched her for a bit, sighing when she dropped her keys. I was about to get out of the car when she seemed to regain at least some semblance of sense, grabbing her keys and managing to get the right one on the first try... well, the first try, minus dropping the keys altogether. She paused, glancing over her shoulder at me and weakly waving before slipping into our home.

  I realized belatedly that I was still in her car, and not old reliable. I shouldn’t have offered to walk back to the museum, but it wasn’t as if I could just leave either of our cars there. Sighing, I lurched out of the car and cursed the bright sun. It made me sweat, and if there was one thing that made my uniform even more unbearable to wear, it was when it was soak
ed in sweat. I wasn’t quite in the shape I was before the museum had closed, but I refused to let the walk conquer me, steadily putting one foot in front of the other. It was tiring, and I didn’t quite realize how far off the museum was—hadn’t I walked here before? I was probably in much better shape at the time.

  When I finally arrived, the sun had begun to set on the horizon, and Becky sat on the front steps with her phone clutched in her hand. She idly tapped away at the screen, seeming oblivious to my presence. I cleared my throat as not to scare her, not that I would have presented a very intimidating figure with how sweaty and obviously out of shape I had gotten. Moody brushed against her legs, giving me the side eye apparently for leaving her behind today.

  “Mazie! I was waiting for you. I saw you left your car, and I didn’t want to just leave it here. And I didn't want to leave Moody alone. Anything could happen, really,” she explained, rising to her feet and meeting me near my car door. I blinked at her for a moment, glancing at my watch. I couldn’t help but frown upon seeing the time, crossing my arms and looking at Becky with a serious expression.

  “You missed your bus, you know. Did you expect me to drive you home?” I teased, though I wasn’t particularly in the chauffeuring mood. She hesitated, nodding quietly before erupting in apologies. “Becky, Becky. It’s fine. I appreciate you keeping an eye on my car. I don’t know what I’d do without her,” I grinned, patting the top of my beat up car. It clanged loudly, and it sounded vaguely like something had fallen loose, but I managed to keep smiling in spite of myself. If Becky was scared of riding in what was often referred to as my ‘deathtrap’, she didn’t make it very obvious. She simply slid into the passenger seat, just before I could warn her about the piles of cat hair. She raised a brow at my chagrined expression, but i only shrugged as Moody jumped into the back seat and curled up for a nap.

  “Do you mind if we take the scenic way home? I can pay for your gas. I just... I’ve been thinking, a lot,” she explained quietly. I wanted to refuse, I really did, but I cared too much about our little city girl to just ignore her wishes.

  “Of course. Buckle up, then,” I ordered, waiting for her to follow my order before pulling out of the parking lot. Becky was surprisingly quiet for the duration of the trip, her eyes occasionally flicking towards me with something akin to concern. Just as I was about to ask her what was bothering her, she spoke.

  “Do you believe in the paranormal, Mazie? Like... ghosts, witches. That sort of thing?” She asked quietly, and I hope the surprise in my eyes wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Did she know about Fern and myself? If she knew, Amber could find out, and then the whole town would know. Though I’d never encountered one myself, I’d heard of the occasional witch hunter who specialized in killing witches. I didn’t hear a lot through the ‘magic grapevine’, as it were, but it was enough to cause concern. I realized Becky was still waiting for an answer when she stared at me almost expectantly.

  “Well, I mean. I guess they could exist. I haven’t ever really given it a lot of thought,” I lied in a stammer, cursing myself for being a goody two shoes for so long. When Fern lied, it was actually believable. I just made an utter moron of myself. “What brings this up, anyway?” I continued, trying to turn the conversation around.

  “Oh, nothing. Just... curiosity, I guess. Amber’s store is weird, and makes you think weird things,” she replied mildly, staring out the window once more. I resisted the desire to heave a sigh of relief, both because we were nearing her side of town, and because she had let the conversation go. For now, but... I could hope it wouldn’t come up again. “Have you noticed how much Hazel and Fang have been flirting lately? I swear, those two are hopeless,” she whispered before erupting into giggles. I smiled a bit myself, charmed by the thought of two of my favorite people.

  “You’d think one of them would take the hint and realize their feelings are mutual, but... you know how that goes. And while we’re talking romance, what’s been going on with you and Jimmy Jack?” I teased, tickled by the way her cheeks seemed to set alight.

  “N-nothing. He’s a nice guy, but... he’s always so busy, and uhm... he has to take care of his dad, a lot. He... he asked me out, but I haven’t been sure how to reply,” she stammered, tapping her fingertips together. I beamed, pulling over for a moment and turning to face her.

  “Becky, in spite of what he and his father do, Jimmy Jack is nothing short of a saint. He’s loyal, kind, and would fight for you to the death if you asked it of him. He’s a good guy, and... well, you’re a good, pretty girl. It was only a matter of time before he got the nerve to ask,” I said with a quirk of my lips. She looked less sure, staring at her hands with a pensive expression.

  “I don’t think his dad likes me very much,” she pointed out quietly. I couldn’t help myself. I erupted into laughter, so entertained that I literally slapped my knee. Becky looked torn between being embarrassed and confused, so I cleared my throat to clarify.

  “Fang doesn’t like anyone very much, Hazel and Jimmy Jack aside. If he hasn’t threatened you with a shotgun over the idea of his boy’s heart being broken by some sassy city girl, you have nothing to worry about,” I grinned, pulling back on to the road with a cheerful smile. More and more, I found myself enjoying Becky’s company. She didn’t know our ways, but she had her own, special charm about her. It was easy to see why Jimmy Jack would be interested in her.

  “I’m not sassy,” she chuckled, reaching out to give me a slight shove. I kept my hands steady on the wheel, leveling her with a mock glare.

  “No reckless driving for the two of us, my sister would kill us both, and never let us out of jail,” I said in a faux serious manner. Her eyes widened slightly, and she actually looked worried. “Relax, Becky. Fern doesn’t quite have that much power. Yet. I guess she could probably lock me in my room, but you’re home free,” I assured her. She nodded quietly, seeming lost in thought once more.

  “You know... I really like it here. A lot more than the city. Everyone is so nice, and I don’t have to worry about being struck by a half dozen cars at every crosswalk. I know you guys kind of think of me as an outsider—,” I inhaled sharply, prepared to argue the point, but she continued. “And I am. I kinda am an outsider. But I think that you’re all great, and I can only hope that someday I’ll be as welcome in town as someone like... well, Amber,” she rambled, fidgeting a bit.

  “Amber is the wrong person to use for that comparison. You’re already more welcome in town than she is,” I pointed out, seeking out her house in the dark.

  “Well, as welcome as Hazel, maybe?” She tried again, and I glanced at her from the corner of my eye with a mischievous expression.

  “And here I thought you had feelings for the younger moonshiner. I didn’t peg you as one to go after Fang, though I’m quite sure he would be flattered,” I teased in a sing song voice. Becky sputtered for a moment before dissolving into laughter, pointing a little ways ahead.

  “Alright, alright. Enough joking around. There’s my house. I really appreciate you doing this for me, Mazie,” she smiled, unfastening her seat belt and pushing the door open.

  “Any time, Becky. You know, you’re a lot more welcome than you think. I know it’s hard to be the new kid on the block, but... well, this little town couldn’t ask for anyone better,” I asserted. Her eyes misted over briefly, and she quickly swiped the back of her hand across them.

  “Thanks. Uhm. Tell your sister I said hi. And be sure she gets some rest, alright!?” She called out, making her way up the walkway of her house. I waited until she was safely inside, settling in my seat with a vaguely peaceful sensation.

  No matter what happened with this Dickney situation, I would look out for the town of Stillwater. I would look out for my friends.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The following morning, I expected the restrooms to be a war zone, but they were surprisingly pristine. I offered Becky a grateful smile, and she winked before busying herself with setting up the exhibits for the d
ay. It wasn’t a terribly taxing part of our job, but it was something to do before we set up shop for the day. Moody darted around underfoot, and I resisted the desire to strike up conversation with the feline. It would have seemed strange, however, especially with Becky in the room to witness it. I didn’t want her to get any further inklings about my abilities—though she may have easily dismissed it as an eccentric pet owner chatting up their fur child. The fact that she had already asked about paranormal activity in the area had me a bit concerned, but maybe she was just the curious sort. After all, she had a point. Amber’s shop did have a rather weird vibe to it—although it was occasionally useful to buy some regents we needed from her. She never suspected much, at least, as far I was aware. She was too far up her own ass to notice much of anything that her sources didn’t tell her.

  So, as entertaining as it might have been to strike up a conversation with the ornery feline, I instead turned my attention to our town’s favorite little city girl. She wasn’t terribly preoccupied, simply wiping some of the dustier cases for some of our most prized exhibits. I stepped up behind her, watching over her shoulder as she fought to wipe away a particularly stubborn bit of dust.

  “Busy day, huh,” I said abruptly, and she jolted a bit, looking at me with surprise. Becky laughed, waving me off and seeming to decide that the smudge was fine where it was.

  “Well, tours are resuming today. A girl has to stay busy, wouldn’t want you to show me up,” she smirked, tucking her dusting cloth in her pocket and watching Moody with vague panic. I glanced down to see the cat swatting a mouse back and forth between her paws, as if it were little more than a toy. I knew Moody was doing it just to make Becky uncomfortable, as she didn’t make a habit of playing with her food.