Bad to the Crone Read online

  “I don’t know what happened.” Mama Moon sounded as hazy as I felt. “She’s warded.”

  “You can’t ward a person,” he barked.

  “Someone warded her. Whatever she is, someone wanted to protect the secret. She is utterly fascinating.”

  “She’s a person.” Gunner put his hand on my hip and frowned when he realized what I was trying to do. “She’s confused and slow right now, but she’s still a person. This isn’t over. I’ll be back for more information.”

  I HAD NO IDEA HOW I got home.

  I woke on my bed, the kitten positioned on my chest so I was staring directly into his bi-colored eyes the moment my eyes snapped open. My back ached thanks to the position I’d fallen asleep in, my neck cranked a bit to the right, and my stomach growled as if I’d gone days without food. A quick look at the window told me that at most it had been hours. The sunlight was still bright through the window, so it couldn’t possibly be that late.

  Gently, I dislodged the kitten. He protested slightly, nipping my fingers as I carefully placed him on the mattress. I felt disjointed as I walked through the cabin, muddled, but I slowly began recovering my faculties as I picked my way through the rooms, ultimately landing on the front porch.

  I found Gunner sitting on the ground with a screwdriver and a chair I didn’t recognize. It looked to be a glider, one meant for a front porch instead of indoors, and he was focused on it as I tried to absorb the rest of the scene.

  “How did you get me and my bike back here?” I asked after a moment’s contemplation.

  He slid his eyes to me and smiled. “I called for backup. I wasn’t keen on getting Brandon involved, but I didn’t have much choice. He has a truck big enough for both our bikes, and I couldn’t very well leave you there.”

  “Yeah, well ... .” Weary, I sank to a sitting position on the top step. “What happened again?”

  He chuckled, but remained focused on the chair. “You passed out. Mama Moon tried to invade your head and somehow you kept her out ... and in fantastic fashion. Whatever you did to her was powerful. I have a feeling she’s still recovering, too.”

  I vaguely remembered that, although the flashes flitting through my brain felt as if they were from a movie I’d watched twenty years ago instead of a real-life event that had just transpired. “She said I was protected.”

  “She did,” he confirmed, his eyes thoughtful as they snagged with mine. “She said that someone put a barrier spell in your head and that you were warded.”

  “You said it’s impossible to ward a person,” I remembered. “That’s essentially true.”

  “Essentially,” he agreed. “Still, she was adamant.”

  “She’s a kook, though. I mean ... she’s nuts.”

  He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and shifted to face me. He didn’t drop the screwdriver, but forward momentum on the chair was lost. “She’s nutty,” he agreed after a beat. “But she’s not nuts. I told you, she was the first person in the area recruited into Spells Angels.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” I argued. “Just because she was once one of us ... .” I trailed off.

  “I know it’s difficult to believe, but she was once well-respected in this area,” he offered. “She was powerful and fought the good fight.”

  “Then why did she leave the group?”

  “I don’t know.” He was earnest as he studied my face. “Even before she left the group — which happened when I was a kid — she had a reputation for being eccentric. She was known as flamboyant, blunt and a heckuva a good time.”

  “So, what happened?” I rested my chin in my hand and focused on him. “How did she go from being respected to the town joke? Something had to happen to shift perception.”

  He absently scratched his cheek. “When I was in middle school, Mama Moon was still in charge of this chapter of Spells Angels. At the time, I didn’t know what the group was.

  “I mean ... I knew the members hung out together at the Cauldron as a group,” he continued. “I knew my father was always agitated because he couldn’t figure out what they were doing in the woods at all hours. He thought there was some naked dancing or something going on, because he heard that was a thing with witches. There was some cop in Hemlock Cove who swore he saw it happening there, and the story spread like wildfire.”

  I was intrigued. “You’re not a witch.”

  He smiled. “No.”

  “I realized that from the start, but I never thought to ask. We have a lot of different paranormal types in our group in Detroit, but everyone kind of congregates together. The shifters hang with the other shifters by the sports complexes. The witches spend a lot of time on the Ambassador Bridge. The gargoyles head for the old buildings along the Cass Corridor because they can’t kill anyone, but that doesn’t mean they can’t lap up blood if humans go after each other.”

  He smirked. “You have gargoyles? That’s kind of cool. I’ve never seen one. We don’t have them up here.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. There’s nowhere for them to hide here. It’s much easier in the south.”

  “Yeah.” He was thoughtful as he stared at me. “Do you want me to tell you what I am?”

  That seemed like a loaded question. It also seemed as if I should already know. He hadn’t set off any alarm bells when we’d first met. That meant I already inherently recognized his kind upon initial introduction.

  Things clicked into place quickly. “You’re a shifter.”

  “I am.”

  “Wolf shifter,” I surmised quickly, smiling. “You’re not pack, though. You’re an independent.”

  “That’s also true. My parents were pack until my mother lost her mind. Instead of helping, the pack kicked her out ... which only exacerbated things.”

  I didn’t know much about shifters. The factions really were separated in Detroit. Once, I heard one of the witches lament that it was racist. I didn’t realize what she meant at the time, though I understand now.

  “Your father pulled you out of the pack when your mother got sick,” I mused. “That must have been difficult for you.”

  “You would think so, but it really wasn’t. Packs are for people with standing. My father is the chief of police, but Hawthorne Hollow is so tiny it could fit on a pin with room to spare. He could give the pack nothing, so they had no inclination to go out of their way to keep him. I don’t really remember participating in many pack events when I was a kid. I’m okay with not being in a pack.”

  “Still, at some point you figured out what the Spells Angels are,” I noted. “That had to be ... exciting. It also has to be terrifying. In a town this size, the idea of a paranormal threat taking over had to consume you.”

  “See, I don’t think I worried about paranormal beings taking over in the same manner you did,” he countered. “You’ve lived a different life. A lot of the things we dealt with were similar, but only on an emotional level. The nitty-gritty was different.

  “I had a mother I feared, and I lost her,” he continued. “You have no idea who raised you before you were five. You don’t know if the people were good or evil. All you know is that you were abandoned, and I can’t imagine what you’ve dealt with because of that.

  “I wasn’t abandoned, but my mother is mentally ill. She’s still that way and will stay that way until she dies. Your entire history is a question mark.”

  “You’re not making me feel good about this sharing thing,” I offered, rueful.

  His smile returned, lighting up his features. “I’m sorry. There really was a point to what I was saying. In your head, I had to be fearful about what the Spells Angels were doing here when I was a kid. I was the opposite, though. I was fascinated with them.”

  “When did you figure out what they were?”

  “I think part of me always knew there was something different about them. When Mama Moon was in charge, I was slightly more fearful. She had a certain reputation.”

  “Oh, really?�
�� I arched an eyebrow. “I never would’ve guessed.”

  “She wasn’t that odd back then. I mean, she had her eccentricities, there’s no doubt about that. But she wasn’t crazy. The way she acted today, the show she put on, that’s more of a recent development.”

  I was officially intrigued. “Do you think it’s a facade she’s embraced because she lost control of the group?”

  “What makes you think she lost control of the group?”

  “That’s what you basically said without coming right out and saying it. You hemmed and hawed around the subject. I got the gist of it. Something happened when you were in middle school. You were about to tell me and then we got distracted by how similar we are.”

  He laughed. “You are ... something. I haven’t decided if it’s a good something yet, but you’re definitely out there.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Fair enough.” He nodded. “Mama Moon was in charge of the Spells Angels when Evan Greenspan went missing. He was in third grade, several years younger than me. The school was only four blocks from his house and it was a straight shot, so he walked by himself.

  “One day in October, he didn’t make it home,” he continued. “His parents were beside themselves. No one understood what was happening. Hawthorne Hollow isn’t like the big city. It’s untouched in certain ways. Back then, it was also naive.”

  My stomach flipped as I sensed an uncomfortable story in my future.

  “My father organized search parties,” he continued. “I called all my friends and they called all their friends. Every able-bodied individual hit the woods looking for him. Since the Spells Angels were always in the woods, my father swallowed his pride and approached Mama Moon. He knew he needed help, because we had a lot of ground to cover.

  “By then I knew what Spells Angels was, at least on a very basic level,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I knew that everyone involved had some sort of ability. I likened it to the Justice League, but with vampires and witches.”

  I smiled. “That sort of makes sense.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, Mama Moon said she would help and sent some of her people out into the woods. To this day, I’m not exactly sure what happened. I know that a lot of people were out there looking, but somehow there was an accident.”

  I rubbed the spot over my heart. “Evan?”

  “No. Evan was never found. He disappeared in the middle of the day and nothing was ever found of him again. Er, well, I shouldn’t say nothing. His backpack was discovered, shredded. People assumed a bear got him, but that never made much sense to me.”

  Something clicked in the back of my mind. “You said Mama Moon has a bear. I didn’t see it while we were there.”

  “Yeah. Barney. He hangs around the woods behind her house most of the time. He’s ferocious when need be — mostly when she’s mouthed off to someone at the bar and they follow her home to threaten her — but he’s mostly gentle. I never bought the idea that he killed Evan.”

  I was confused. “If people thought the bear killed Evan, why didn’t they destroy it? I mean ... I’ve heard of that happening numerous times.”

  “I have, too,” Gunner agreed. “It didn’t happen this time, though. I don’t know what happened. The townsfolk turned on Mama Moon. She was upset to the point that she started drinking ... a lot. She left the group not long after that, although there are arguments about whether she truly left or was forced out. Most people believe she was forced out.”

  “And you don’t know why? Other than the obvious, I mean.”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t ask why?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re a better person than me,” I said after a moment’s contemplation. “That sounds like quite the story. I would’ve hounded her until she told me everything that happened. I mean, the woman has a pet bear ... but I’m not going to really believe that until I see it.”

  “I’ll make sure you see it. As for Mama Moon, she carries a lot of sadness with her. She’s also a kook and gets off on the town believing she’s nuts. I don’t know why she does the things she does, but her fate is sealed when it comes to the people of Hawthorne Hollow.”

  I swallowed hard before I asked the next question. I was uncomfortable with the idea of pushing things further, and yet I couldn’t continue without at least trying to find answers. “Do you think it’s possible she knows something about me?”

  He stared for a long time before finally getting to his feet and sitting next to me. He didn’t put his arm around me or offer me a knee pat as a form of solace. Instead, he merely closed the distance and offered me a bit of the warmth he seemed to have at the ready.

  “I don’t think she knows anything about you like you’re asking,” he replied finally. “I mean ... nothing specific. If you’re asking if I believe it’s possible she truly senses something about you, I do. I wish I could help you on that front, but I can’t. She might have answers worth pursuing down the line.”

  “But we have other things to focus on right now,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I can’t forget the bigger picture and focus on myself. That’s not what we do.”

  “It’s not,” he agreed. “But you don’t have to forget the bigger picture to chase your own truth. We can do both.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to know.” I faked bravado for his benefit. “I’m perfectly fine not knowing.”

  “I don’t think you are, but I also don’t think we’re close to the answers you need. We’re going to have to play things by ear, take things one day at a time.”

  “You sound like a fortune cookie.”

  “Yeah?” He brightened as he lightly brushed his fingers against my cheek, freezing in the moment with his face close to mine before abruptly pulling away. “That’s quite a coincidence. I was thinking about ordering Chinese. How does that sound?”

  “I didn’t see a Chinese place downtown.” I was confused. “Why did you tell me everything was downtown when it’s not?”

  “I told you Hawthorne Hollow was a mystery.”

  “I know but ... it’s more than that. Chinese sounds good, though. While we’re waiting for it to be delivered you can tell me about Peeping Tim. I’m dying to hear the full story on that guy.”

  “You’re really not. Barney the Bear is more entertaining.”

  “What makes you think I don’t want to hear about both?”

  Fifteen

  Gunner stayed late, so late I thought he was angling for an invitation for an overnight visit. We talked about things — so many topics I thought my head might spin — and we laughed. We laughed so much my stomach hurt. When I first met him, I thought that was impossible. Apparently, I was wrong.

  “That’s all the windows,” he said after we finished hanging curtains throughout the entire cabin. “Now Tim won’t be able to see you unless you want him to see you.”

  “Under what circumstances would I want him to see me?”

  He shrugged, noncommittal. “I don’t know. You’ll have to take that up with him. I don’t want to involve myself in your private business. What happens with the ghost, stays with the ghost.”

  “Ha, ha.” I flicked his ear, jolting slightly when he caught my wrist and wrapped his fingers around it. “Um ... .” I forgot what I was about to say, instead finding myself lost in his intense gaze.

  “Tim is harmless,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s a pervert, but he can’t touch you. He’s a ghost … and ghosts can’t touch.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less invasive. How would you feel if a female ghost peeped in your windows all the time?”

  His grin was mischievous. “I think you just highlighted the difference between men and women.”

  My skin tingled where he touched me and, I’m ashamed to admit, I felt light-headed. “I don’t think you would be nearly as okay with it as you pretend.”

  He shrugged. “I guess it depends on the woman.” He shifted his head closer to mine and my mouth wen
t dry. I wasn’t sure how this was even happening, but for some reason I was perfectly happy with the notion of him kissing me.

  “So, you’re saying that you would be happy if a particular woman peeped on you?”

  “Maybe. I ... .” Whatever he was about to say died on his lips as the kitten picked that moment to make his presence known.

  He howled ... loudly. In fact, I had no idea an animal that small could make that much noise. The screech was enough to break the spell — although I’d yet to decide which one of us had woven it — and Gunner released my wrist and took an involuntary step back. He seemed as surprised as me by the turn of events.

  “I should probably get going,” he offered lamely as I collected myself. “We need to strategize tomorrow. I’m not sure where to go next, but ... I need to think about it.”

  I felt ridiculous as I backed away from him. “Right. I’ll think about it, too.”

  “Right.”

  It was obvious we were both uncomfortable as he started walking toward the door. The kitten was getting underfoot, so I scooped him up and followed.

  “Make sure you lock this behind me,” he instructed, tapping the door handle as I watched him slip through the opening. “It won’t keep everyone — or everything, for that matter — out, but it’s an added layer of protection.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” I said quickly. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

  “I’m sure you have. Still, it’s better to be safe.”

  “I’ll be safe.”

  “Great. Well ... I’ll see you in the morning.” He lingered a moment, as if unsure what to do, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the darkness.

  I remained where I was, the kitten clutched against my chest, and listened as he fired up his motorcycle.

  “You either saved me from making an ass of myself or ruined what could’ve been a great night,” I told the kitten. “I’ll decide tomorrow which one it is.”

  The kitten was solemn as he looked up at me. I could almost read his thoughts.