Wicked Charms (21 page)

Read Wicked Charms Online

Authors: Janet Evanovich

Tags: #Mystery & Suspense, #Romantic Comedy, #Mystery, #American, #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #Thriller & Suspense, #General Humor, #Humor & Satire, #Supernatural, #Humor, #Romance, #Women Sleuths, #Paranormal, #Humorous

BOOK: Wicked Charms
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“I did
not
kill Steve,” Glo said. “I’m almost sure of it.”

Rutherford looked down at Steve. “Steve’s a great kidder. I’m sure he’s fine. We’ll just trundle him out of here, so he’s not underfoot.” He turned to the man who was still standing just in front of the door. “Perhaps you could help Steve to the car.”

“He’s bleeding,” the man said.

“Thank you. That’s a good observation. You might want to put him in the trunk, so we don’t ruin Mr. Ammon’s upholstery.”

Rutherford stepped aside, and Steve got dragged out of the house.

“Where’s Martin Ammon?” I asked.

“He’s sleeping,” Rutherford said. “He’s had an exhausting day.”

“He ate my sandwich,” Glo said. “And you ruined my door. You owe me a new door.”

“Absolutely, we’ll get you a new door. My apologies. It’s just that the men get carried away, and before you know it…no door. Ha-ha.”

“It turns out it’s not that easy to undo a spell,” Glo said to Rutherford. “Especially when you don’t know all the details of the original. Not that I’m sure he has a spell cast on him. I’m just saying.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” Rutherford said.

“I’ll help her,” I said to Rutherford. “I know something about these things, but we’ll need a little time to do some research and shopping. Most spells require specialty aids, like hummingbird wings and troll snot.”

“Yes, and not just any old troll snot, either,” Glo said. “Romanian troll snot is best. I tried to use French troll snot once and it didn’t work at all.”

“Understood,” Rutherford said. “We wouldn’t want to use inferior troll snot. Mr. Ammon always insists on the best.”

“Four o’clock tomorrow at the lighthouse,” I said.

“Ah-hah, the lighthouse. I was hoping for a more private location. Perhaps at Mr. Ammon’s house in Marblehead.”

“Nope,” Glo said. “It has to be the lighthouse.”

Rutherford looked like he was making a maximum effort to keep it together. “Right, the lighthouse. Perfect.”

He gingerly stepped around the broken door and moments later I heard his car drive away.

“Great,” I said, “now I have
two
broken doors.”

Rain was blowing in, so I propped a kitchen stool against the door to hold it closed. Carl left his corner, scuttled across the room, and hopped up onto the stool. Glo mopped the blood off the floor.

“Maybe you should thumb through
Ripple’s
and see if you can find a general all-purpose undoing spell,” I said to Glo. “Just in case things don’t go as planned, it might be good if we could get the dog thing out of Martin Ammon’s head.”

Glo took the Magic 8 Ball and
Ripple’s Book of Spells
out of her tote bag and placed them on the counter. She had the 8 Ball in a plastic baggie because it was oozing liquid. “Outlook not so good” floated to the surface.

“The 8 Ball’s seen better days,” I said.

Glo bit into her lower lip. “It’s so sad. I tried sealing it with nail polish, but it’s still leaking.”

Diesel rapped on the back door, and I moved Carl and the stool to let him in.

“What happened here?” he asked, setting the grocery bags on the counter.

“Rutherford happened,” I told him. “He came with two of his men. They were after Glo, but one of the men walked into a frying pan Glo happened to be holding.”

“Nice,” Diesel said. “And they went away?”

“Temporarily. We set up a meeting at the lighthouse for tomorrow at four o’clock. In the meantime I thought it would be good for Glo to find a way to get rid of the dog spell. Just in case.”

“Can’t hurt,” Diesel said.

I put the groceries away and started the bananas Foster.

“Here’s one,” Glo said, reading from
Ripple’s.
“ ‘Good to reverse all spells unless those spells are deemed irreversible.’ ”

“How do you know if a spell is irreversible?”

“I think they’re the ones with a skull and crossbones next to them,” Glo said. “I try to avoid them.”

I splashed some rum into the saucepan with the bananas and lit it all on fire. Cat arched his back and hissed, and Carl clapped his hands.

“I don’t have all the ingredients for this spell,” Glo said. “I need spider legs and dried primate gonad.”

We all glanced over at Carl.

“What size gonad are we looking for?” Diesel asked. “Gorilla gonad or monkey gonad?”

“It’s nonspecific. It just calls for a teaspoon of powdered primate gonad.”

“Eeep!” Carl said.

“I imagine it takes days to dry out a gonad,” Glo said.

“Yeah, and I don’t think you’d get a teaspoon out of what Carl’s showing us,” Diesel said.

Carl gave him the finger and mooned him. Easy to do since Carl didn’t wear pants.

I portioned out the bananas Foster, and Glo scooped vanilla ice cream.


Diesel and Carl took Glo home, and Cat and I cleaned the kitchen. Glo had mopped up the blood, but I went over the floor again with disinfectant. This was more for my own mental health than for cleanliness.

“This was fun,” I said to Cat. “Not necessarily the part about smashing Steve’s nose, but the rest of it. I like cooking for my friends. It’s especially fun when it’s last-minute like this.”

We moved to the living room, and I was surfing for a television show when Diesel and Carl walked in and shook the rain off.

“I thought you were going home,” I said to Diesel.

He sat next to me and slouched back. “You thought wrong. I took Glo home and did a temporary fix on her door. I don’t think she’s in danger until four o’clock tomorrow.”

“Me, either.”

“Honey, you’re holding your back door closed with a barstool. Any knuckle dragger can walk in.”

Carl cut his eyes to Diesel and gave him the finger.

“Nothing personal,” Diesel said. “It’s an expression.”

“Can you fix my door?”

“I can fix it tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to keep you safe by staying close.”

“Oh boy.”

“It’s going to be way better than
oh boy.

“Wowee kazowee?”

“Yeah, more like wowee kazowee.”

Carl took the television remote from me and changed the channel to National Geographic.

“What will we do if Ammon doesn’t have the stone on him?” I asked Diesel.

“We’ll go to plan B.”

“Would you like to share plan B with me?”

“No.”

“There isn’t a plan B, is there?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Have you talked to Wulf lately?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No.”

“Do you know how to get in touch with him?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“The answers aren’t reassuring.”

“You need to lower your expectations.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The bakery was back in business Wednesday morning. Clara and I had been working since five, Glo and Broom were behind the counter at nine, and customers came and went in a steady trickle, as usual. On the outside it all looked normal. On the inside we were struggling to stay calm.

“I spent the night combing through
Ripple’s,
” Glo said. “I was hoping to find an undoing spell that was less complicated. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get all the ingredients for the spell I have. What if I can’t change Ammon back?”

“Rutherford will get Martin the best kennel money can buy,” I said.

“It’s two o’clock,” Clara said to Glo. “I’ll take over the counter. You and Lizzy should go to the Exotica Shoppe to get your ingredients, and then you can go directly to the lighthouse. I’m closing the bakery at three o’clock so I can lead Diesel through the tunnels.”

I drove the short distance to Ye Olde Exotica Shoppe and parked on the street. Nina Wortley is the store’s owner-manager. She’s in her early sixties, has long frizzed snow-white hair, and her face looks like it’s been dusted with cake flour. Today Nina was wearing Birkenstock clogs and a yellow Belle gown from her Disney collection.

Every nook and cranny of Exotica was crammed with the strange and wonderful. Wolfsbane, bats’ wings, gummy bears, snail entrails, warthog hoof, powdered bridge troll penis, Snickers bars, Pringles, vulture claw, pickled brown cow tongue, rotted beetle brain, kosher salt. There was a special section for vegan witches who needed tofu substitutes for animal parts. And there was also a rack with Harry Potter wizard wands for the tourists.

“I have a list,” Glo told Nina.

“You must be working on a special spell if you have a list,” Nina said.

Glo gave her the list. “It’s an undoing spell.”

“Undoing spells are tricky. Let’s see what you need.” Nina snagged a basket and began to fill it. “Gonads, lizard beak, dingleberries.” She moved to a different part of the shop and searched a cluttered shelf. “Extract of dragon tail, my last bottle. I must remember to reorder.” She unscrewed the lid on a big jar filled with eyeballs. “One blue eyeball.”

“Where do the blue eyeballs come from?” I asked Nina.

“China, of course. They do all the eyeball manufacturing.”

“Do they clone them?” I asked.

Nina put the eyeball in a plastic baggie and dropped it into the basket. “Heavens no. Eyeballs are just for effect. They’re plastic.”

“It’s for my goldfish,” Glo said. “They float.”

Nina carried the basket to the register. “I had everything but the toad tongue. I substituted chopped newt. It should work just fine.”

“I just have to put all this together now,” Glo said.

“I can do that for you,” Nina said. “I can mix it together in the back room.”

“That would be great,” Glo said, handing Nina
Ripple’s Book of Spells.
“I’m not good at the mixing part.”

Nina returned in five minutes and handed Glo a screw-cap jar. “The recipient only needs to drink about a teaspoon of this. The rest should be poured in a circle around him. When he steps out of the circle the spell should be complete.”

Glo settled her account, and we left the store.

“It’s hard to believe some of these things are real,” I said. “Where does she get extract of dragon tail?”

“I asked her that one time and she said Slovakia.”

It had stopped raining but the sky was overcast and the air was unseasonably cool. I was wearing a sweatshirt over my jeans and T-shirt. Glo was wearing a bright pink fluffy rabbit fur jacket, her usual motorcycle boots, black tights, and a short black tunic. We jumped in my car, buckled ourselves in, and headed for the lighthouse.

“You’re driving super slow,” Glo said. “The car behind us isn’t happy.”

“How do you know he’s not happy?”

“He’s honking his horn.”

I blew out a sigh. “I didn’t notice. I’m distracted. I don’t want to get to the lighthouse. I’d like to get onto the highway and not stop until I reach California.”

“I’m game for California. I’m not crazy about this gig, either. What if my undo spell doesn’t work and Martin Ammon tears me to shreds?”

“That would be a bummer.”

“No kidding.”

I’d been driving at a snail’s pace, but I still managed to reach Derby Street.

“I suppose I should park,” I said.

“Yeah,” Glo said, gathering her things together. “Showtime.”

We left the car and walked the length of the pier to the lighthouse. Two men in suits stood midway. I nodded to them, and they nodded back.

“Freaking creepy,” Glo said.

Hardly anyone ever visited the lighthouse. It didn’t look historic or interesting, and there were no signs to indicate that it was open to the public, so the public never showed up.

I pushed the door open and flipped the light on. Nobody home. We were ten minutes early. A text message from Diesel came in on my phone.
Conduct the ceremony on the second floor by the beacon. I’m in place.

The lighthouse floor was cement, as were the walls. Hidden behind the spiral staircase was a door. I opened the door and saw circuit breakers and electrical feeds crammed into a small closet. The floor was wood planking. Trapdoor, I thought.

We climbed the spiral stairs. Glo set Broom aside by the door leading to the balcony and then got busy setting up her workstation. She turned
Ripple’s
to the appropriate page and placed the jar next to the book of spells.

“It seems bare,” Glo said. “I should have brought a candle or some flowers.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s not like it’s a dinner party.”

I left Glo in the beacon room, and I went downstairs to wait for Rutherford and Ammon. They arrived precisely on time, both dressed in black with red ties. I supposed this was the standard Mammon wardrobe. Ammon’s eyes were glazed, and he looked totally tranquilized.

“Is he okay?” I asked Rutherford. “He’s a little zoned out.”

“Mr. Ammon? Zoned out? No, no, he’s just relaxing,” Rutherford said.

“Glo needs to do this upstairs where there’s less interference from the earthly stuff that, um, interferes.”

Rutherford looked at the spiral staircase, gauging if he could get Ammon to climb it.

“It would be more convenient to perform the ceremony down here,” Rutherford said.

“Glo can’t guarantee it will work if Mr. Ammon’s feet are on terra firma.”

We led Ammon to the staircase and eased him up step-by-step. I had no clue what Rutherford had given Ammon, but I was thinking I wouldn’t mind having some. My palms were sweating, and my heart was skipping beats. I was terrified that Ammon would wake up and go into mad-dog mode or worse. What if he actually became Mammon? Crap on a cracker!

I positioned Rutherford and Ammon in front of the table with their backs to the beacon and the stairs.

“Okay,” I said to Glo. “Do your thing.”

“Undo, undo what’s been done,” Glo read from the book. “All spells be cast aside, all demons be banished…”

“Oh, um, excuse me,” Rutherford said. “That won’t work. We don’t want
all
demons banished. Ha-ha. No, no. This man holds the sleeping Prince of Avarice. The sacred demon Mammon is poised to emerge and assume his kingdom.”

“Silly me,” Glo said. “What was I thinking? Let me start over. Undo, undo what’s been done. All spells be cast aside, all demons with the exception of the Prince of Avarice our good friend Mammon be banished.” Glo looked at Rutherford and he nodded his approval. “Lickety lickety down it goes, round and round, step aside, spell be gone.”

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