No Crone Unturned Read online

  I blew out a sigh. “No, we can go.”

  “Thank you for your permission.”

  I tugged on my helmet, straddled my bike, and started it on the first try. I was more than ready to leave, yet something pulled my attention back to the house. I couldn’t see anyone. There were no lights. The electricity probably wasn’t even on. Despite that, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching us from the murky windows.

  “Let’s go,” Marissa barked. “I can’t wait to tell Rooster how you fouled up this one.”

  Ah, she was a true joy. Still, I’d had fun tonight. Yes, I have a weird sense of humor. That’s simply who I am.

  Scout Randall, abandoned girl and witch extraordinaire. I was really starting to come into my own.

  Two

  Marissa beat me back to The Cauldron. It wasn’t that she was a better driver as much as she had an agenda. Also, I remained distracted by the house. I stopped at a certain point on the road and stared at the imposing shadow, willing a light to come on or some sort of movement to catch my attention, anything really to give me an excuse to go inside. That’s what I really wanted, because I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me from the bluff.

  Marissa lost patience with me when I dawdled upon our initial escape. She still had bog monster coating her and was furious. She wasn’t exactly what I would call a fun person to be around on a normal day ... and this was pretty far from a normal day.

  Marissa had cornered our boss Rooster Tremaine and Gunner at the bar when I strolled through the door. They were doing their best to keep from touching her because of the green goo coating her from head to toe. She gestured wildly and cast me an evil glare as I greeted the room.

  “I want something done about it,” she sneered as the talking ceased. Only members of our group were in the bar. That was hardly surprising given the fact that it was a weekday and Hawthorne Hollow wasn’t exactly a hotbed of activity.

  “Good evening, all,” I drawled, smiling brightly. “What were you all talking about?”

  Gunner shifted on his stool so his back was against the bar and he faced me. He took a long pull from his beer and grinned. “Oddly enough, we were talking about you.”

  “I thought that was your perpetual state these days.”

  His grin only widened. “Pretty much.”

  “Oh, shoot me now,” Marissa groused as she rolled her eyes. The goo was turning an odd blue color as it dried, which made her look like a demented Smurf. “Why don’t you two just mount each other and get it over with?” Her agitation was on full display, and while she usually enjoyed pointing it at me, Gunner was almost always spared. Not today, though.

  “I’ve considered it,” Gunner said dryly, unruffled. “But my father is the chief of police and he’s always looking for a reason to mess with me. I don’t really fancy having a public indecency charge on my record — though I’m not ruling it out.”

  “Your wit is astounding,” Marissa snapped.

  Gunner’s smile never faltered. “Believe it or not, you’re hardly the first person to tell me that.” He shifted his eyes to me. “I hear you blew up a troll. That sounds ... neat.”

  “Yes, and I’m anxious to hear about it,” Rooster enthused. “I’ve never seen a troll.”

  “It wasn’t a troll,” I countered, giving Marissa a wide berth as I took the stool next to Gunner and greeted the bartender, Whistler, with a happy smile. I nodded at his silent question and he grabbed me a beer from the cooler. “It was something else.”

  “Um ... it was a troll.” Marissa’s tone was disdainful. “I think I would know because ... um ... look at my outfit. It’s ruined because you decided you just had to blow up the troll instead of, I don’t know, stabbing it or something.”

  She was a total trip and she made me smile. “You don’t know the outfit is ruined,” I countered, opting to see if I could push her further ... just for kicks and giggles of course. “A little Tide and a dash of bleach and that shirt might be right back to normal.”

  “I doubt it,” Bonnie Jenkins, a fellow Spells Angels co-worker, said from a nearby table where she was playing solitaire. Her attention appeared to be focused squarely on the cards, but I knew better. She was clearly monitoring the conversation, mostly because Marissa tended to bother the entire group with her whining. “I’m pretty sure there are entrails permanently fused to the hem on the side over here. I don’t think bleach will fix that.”

  “Oh. Ugh!” Marissa was beside herself. “I want some punishment here, Rooster.” She was bordering on screechy. “For once, I want you to actually put your foot down and handle this situation. She’s out of control.”

  There was no doubt who Marissa was referring to. I, however, couldn’t muster the energy to care. I was over her ... although I remained bothered by the events of the evening. Oddly enough, what happened with the bog monster was low on the list of things perplexing me.

  “I want to get back to the monster,” Whistler countered.

  “That’s what I just suggested,” Marissa snapped.

  The curmudgeonly bartender ignored her and remained focused on me. “If it wasn’t a troll, then what was it?”

  That was a good question. “I think it might’ve been a mutated leprechaun, but I’m not sure.”

  Gunner’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “A leprechaun?”

  “Yeah. It had the same size body ... and was green. It was off, though. It might’ve been something else entirely. I think there was some lizard in it, like a chameleon or something. It was naturally small but changed its appearance at the end.”

  “It changed appearance?” Rooster looked intrigued. “How did it manage that?”

  I shrugged, unsure. “Chameleons can change color. This thing changed its appearance. I didn’t waste much time asking questions. I just reacted ... and that was it.”

  “Yes, she reacted by blowing it up,” Marissa drawled. “If you’ll notice, she blew it up in such a way that I got coated in dead troll and she’s pristine. I very much doubt that was an accident.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” I protested, finally reacting. “It really was an accident. I had no way of knowing that he would blow up that way. It was only at the last second that I realized and threw up a shield spell ... but I kind of forgot to cover you.”

  The way Gunner pressed his lips together told me he was trying to hold it together. He was a master at covering his emotions, which made me think he really didn’t care if Marissa saw his mirth.

  “This is not funny,” Marissa hissed, pinning him with a dark look. “I know you’re all ... lusty ... where she’s concerned, but this is a real issue. I deserve a little respect.”

  “Lusty?” Gunner finally shifted his eyes from me and focused on Marissa. “I don’t believe that word has ever been used to describe me. Horny? Absolutely. My grandmother said I was a horny little devil when I was a kid because I had so many girls hanging around the house. Lusty, though, that’s a new one. I think I like it.” He winked at me as I rolled my eyes.

  “You just had to drop in the part about all the girls hanging around your house, didn’t you?” I challenged. “Just for the record, that’s a bit annoying. Nobody likes a braggart.”

  Whistler raised his hand. “I happen to love a braggart ... especially when he’s got sexy stories practically coming out of his ears like Gunner. You have to understand that the boy is something of a legend in these parts.”

  Instead of puffing out his chest and reacting like a normal man might have, Gunner’s cheeks flooded with color. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he reassured me quickly. “I mean ... that’s not exactly true. I dated a few girls as a teenager. I’m hardly a legend.”

  “Oh, now he turns modest,” Whistler intoned.

  “Shut up.” Gunner jabbed a finger in the older bartender’s direction. “You’re going to get me in trouble. Women don’t like it when other females are mentioned in conjunction with their men. It creates static.”<
br />
  Whistler’s expression was blank. “Says who?”

  “Says anyone who has ever tried to keep a woman happy.”

  For some reason, the way he phrased his response made me smile. “Is that what you’re doing?” I teased. “Are you trying to make me happy?”

  “Every moment of every day.”

  When I risked a glance back at him, I found he was sober ... and seemingly intense. “Okay.” I patted his wrist to ease the moment. “I was just messing around. I don’t really care about all the teenage girls who panted after you back in the day. You’ve got one of those faces. I already figured that was the case.”

  “And besides, she’s snagged you now and it’s obvious you’re smitten,” Bonnie added, still playing with her cards. “You’re not exactly setting the female population of Hawthorne Hollow’s hormones on fire like you did back in the day. It’s fine. Scout isn’t the insecure sort.”

  To my surprise, Gunner frowned. “Um ... I could totally set hormones on fire if I wanted.”

  His reaction made me snort. “I think you hurt his feelings, Bonnie.”

  She merely shrugged. “Live and learn.”

  Thankfully the front door opened at this point, drawing everyone’s attention. Ruthie “Raisin” Morton practically flew into the room, her curly hair — which she called red but looked more purple to me — was standing on end and her eyes were so wide I thought they might pop out of her head.

  “Guess what?” She was sparkly as her gaze bounced between faces.

  “Um ... I think I’m going to guess that you’re not supposed to be here,” Rooster supplied. He was calm and yet stern at the same time. Raisin was a regular fixture with our group, but she was not allowed at the bar after dark. She knew it, and more importantly, we all knew it. He was about to go big brother on her, and I very much doubted it would be pretty.

  Ruthie offered up a haphazard hand wave. She’d never been one to follow rules and apparently she had no intention of starting today. “You guys are the only ones here. It’s not as if somebody is going to get arrested or anything. Chill out.”

  Rooster worked his jaw. He was genuinely fond of Raisin, to the point he’d painted himself as something of a surrogate father for her. He tried to ride a fine line of disciplinarian and encouraging force. He didn’t always straddle it in the best manner. “We’ve talked about this,” he stressed.

  “We have,” she agreed, matter of fact. “You’ve talked and I’ve listened. I know I’m not supposed to be here after dark, that Whistler could get in trouble with the police because I’m underage. The thing is, the police in this town don’t care about me. Also, Chief Stratton won’t give me grief because Gunner can talk him out of writing up one of those ticket things for Whistler. We’re totally fine.”

  Gunner’s relationship with his father wasn’t always easy. They had an interesting dynamic, one that often resulted in arguments ... and a bit of petulance on Gunner’s part. I had no doubt the elder Stratton loved his son. He wasn’t great at showing it, though, and Gunner was bitter about certain aspects of his childhood. What they really needed was family therapy, though the odds of that happening were slim.

  “First, it’s not Gunner’s job to smooth things over with his father,” Rooster countered. He’d adopted his “I’m the boss and you have to listen to me whether you like it or not” face and it always made me laugh to see it, because it seemed out of place. “You need to follow the rules instead of assuming Gunner will fix things if you don’t.”

  Raisin made a protesting sound. “But it’s not even a big deal,” she persisted, refusing to let it go. “It’s not as if I’m drinking. In fact, I’m not here to do anything bad ... like ask about monsters or magic or anything either.” Her eyes momentarily flicked to Marissa. “But I am kind of curious about what happened to her.”

  Marissa shot her a warning look. “Don’t worry about it,” she growled. “It’s none of your concern.”

  “If you say so.” Raisin shrugged and turned back to Rooster. She’d adopted what I liked to think of as her “puppy dog” face and she was pulling out all the stops to get Rooster to line up with her way of thinking. “I’m just here to remind you that my play is coming up. It’s right around the corner, in fact. We’re deep in rehearsals now. You guys bought tickets weeks ago ... opening night is actually in a few days and I thought I should maybe remind you that it’s going to be a really cool night.”

  Ah, well, that explained it. Ever since Raisin had been cast in the school play, she’d turned into something of a nervous wreck. She was excited ... and afraid ... and giddy depending on the day. The thing she wanted most was for us to be there. Her grandmother would be in the first row, of course, but other than that Raisin had nobody in her corner. She needed us.

  “We’ll be there,” I reassured her with a firm smile, a flash of light catching my eye through the window. I grabbed my beer and slid off the stool, making sure I didn’t touch Marissa as I moved around her on my way to the window.

  “I know you said you would be there,” Raisin hedged. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget or anything. I mean ... I know you guys have other stuff going on, like whatever is all over Marissa.”

  Marissa growled. “Oh, just keep bringing it up. I love talking about it ... especially since it’s clear Scout isn’t going to be punished for what she did.”

  “Why would Scout be punished?” Gunner challenged. “She killed the monster, saved the day, and you’re perfectly fine.”

  “There are entrails in my hair,” Marissa snapped.

  “Yes, but once you shower it won’t be a big deal,” Gunner persisted. “I’m getting sick of you going after Scout every time a takedown doesn’t go the way you think it will. She’s doing the job and you’re complaining. That’s the real travesty here.”

  “Oh, puh-leez.” I wasn’t facing Marissa so I couldn’t see her eye roll, but I could picture it in my mind’s eye and it would’ve made me laugh if my attention hadn’t been directed at something else.

  “What do you see?” Bonnie asked from behind me. She’d abandoned her game and joined me at the window.

  “It’s storming,” I replied at the exact moment a terrific bolt of lightning flashed through the window. It was quickly followed by a rumble of thunder strong enough to shake the ground.

  “What’s going on?” Raisin asked, her voice quaking. Her excitement about the play had quickly diminished in the face of the storm.

  “It’s okay,” Rooster reassured her, easily sliding back into protective mode. Sure, Raisin wasn’t supposed to be here, but it was hardly the first time she’d broken the rules. She wasn’t hanging out at a bar because she wanted to get drunk. She was here because she loved and needed us ... and it was our job to reassure her that things were going to be okay. That’s what Rooster was doing now as he slid his arm around her shoulders in a reassuring manner. “It’s just a storm.”

  “I didn’t realize it was supposed to storm,” Gunner noted as he moved to my other side, his eyes transfixed on the window. The lightning show was truly impressive, seemingly one flash after the other, with barely a twenty-second break between ... sometimes less. “I watched the forecast this morning and it didn’t mention a storm.”

  Whistler snorted disdainfully. “Yeah, being a meteorologist must be the best job in the world. It’s the only career where you can be wrong ninety percent of the time and nobody calls you on it.”

  Rooster joined in on the meteorologist hate as he kept Raisin anchored to his side. I tuned them out and focused on the storm.

  “What are you thinking?” Gunner asked, his voice low. He looked concerned.

  “What makes you believe I’m thinking anything?” I challenged. In truth, I didn’t have an answer for him. I wasn’t really thinking anything ... and yet I was perturbed all the same.

  “I know you,” he replied simply. “You’ve got that look you get.”

  That didn’t sound complimentary. “You know me, huh?
” I did my best to turn my expression flirty. “What am I thinking now?”

  “That you can distract me with sexy talk to get me to drop this,” he replied without hesitation, causing my smile to slip. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have a weird feeling.”

  “Do you think it has something to do with the bog monster?”

  I tilted my head, considering, and then shook it. “No. I don’t know that it has anything to do with anything. I just ... have a feeling.”

  “Is it a good feeling? I like when you’re feeling good.” Now he was the one with the flirty smile.

  “I don’t know.” I held out my hands. “It’s just a feeling right now.”

  He studied my face for a moment and then nodded. “Well, I guess it’s good I brought my truck. We can load up your bike and ride home in relative safety. We can drop Raisin off on the way and lecture her again about hanging out in bars.” He raised his voice for the last part, which caused Raisin to scowl and Rooster to snicker.

  “That’s a fine idea,” our boss enthused. “Sounds like a perfect end to a perfect evening.”

  I wasn’t sure I agreed with the “perfect” part, but I didn’t exactly have anything to complain about. Well, at least not yet.

  Three

  Gunner gave Raisin the talk on the drive to her house. She pouted for the entire ride, which caused me to have to hide my smile. It wasn’t that he broke her down as much as he reminded her that Whistler could get in real trouble if the wrong people figured out that Raisin was at the bar. She didn’t like the lecture, but she nodded.

  Then he built her right back up.

  “We’re really looking forward to your play,” he said when we were idling in front of her house.

  “Really?” Her eyes sparkled. “I mean ... you’re not just saying that?”

  I vehemently shook my head. “Absolutely not. There’s nothing I like more than good theater.”