made that request.
There was nothing.
Grandma ambled up from the market, a produce bag in hand.
“What are you doing?” She eased through the gate I’d left half open. “You say you’re in a hurry and I catch you farting around in the cemetery.”
I sheathed my switch star. “I heard a voice,” I said, scanning the cemetery, half expecting to hear it again.
She stood next to me, listening, her hands on her hips, the bag dangling from her left wrist. After a little while, she shrugged. “I doubt it’s anybody we know. You get the dirt?”
“I’m working on it.” I’d been a little distracted.
She pulled a Ziploc from her pocket and bent to grab some from the grave at my feet. The one where I’d heard…something.
“Take it from the middle one instead,” I told her.
She shrugged and did as I asked.
I touched my necklace, which was now a locket.
Maybe I hadn’t even heard a voice, but I was pretty sure that I had. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
There was no telling who it belonged to, or why it had spoken to me. But it didn’t feel threatening or evil.
I couldn’t walk away, not without trying to make a difference.
Besides, my necklace had always looked out for me in the past, protected me. And it had given me a way to take some of the grave dirt with me.
I bent and pinched two fingers full from the base of the obelisk. Grandma raised her brows, but didn’t say anything as I opened my locket and stashed it inside.
Chapter Two
We gunned our engines and made it back to the Pacific Coast Highway in record speed. It was a gorgeous, cliff-hugging thrill ride.
I felt good.
Yes, my biker witch family was about to meet my society family. And yes, we were also going to be adding my fiance’s Greek relatives into the mix. But I was also about to marry the most gorgeous, sexy, strong, and wonderful man on the planet.
End of story. I hoped.
It was pretty remote this far south of Monterey. We passed Hearst Castle, with its spires jutting out to the impossibly blue sky. There was almost no shoulder on the right of the road, only a sharp drop to the ocean. To the left were hills lush with spiky wild grasses and dotted with blue oaks, their knotted trunks twisted like bohemian art.
I could see why turn-of-the-century timber barons and railroad tycoons built their getaways out here among the cliffs and the wilderness. It felt like another world, one where I could easily lose myself.
In fact, I almost missed the turn off, a lonely paved road mostly hidden by a large cypress. An iron spike jutted from the ground near the tree, and it had white and silver balloons tied around it. My wedding colors.
My front tire skidded sideways as I turned a little too fast. Grandma was right behind; but her rubber burn was deliberate.
“You should have gone with black and silver,” she hollered over the noise of the engines.
“So you don’t have to buy a new outfit? I don’t like you that much,” I said, noticing the mini champagne glasses dangling from the balloon ties. Leave it to my mother.
Grandma let out a guffaw as I gunned my engine past the gate and up the drive. Frankly, I’d get married in a garden shed if it meant saying ‘yes’ to Dimitri. We’d been through so much together, and there had been times when I wondered if my life,
He loved me. He really did. And I would never take that for granted.
The drive wound up a hill, with cypress planted in neat rows on either side, interspersed with—I slowed my bike to get a better look—stone gargoyles. I was used to seeing them on buildings, not as yard art. Someone had interesting taste.
At the top of the hill, the path opened up to a large, flat lawn with artfully trimmed hedges, a fountain and one of the most bizarre looking old mansions I’d ever seen.
It was made entirely of black stone, with ominous looking sculptures anchored to the swooping gray slate roof. They looked like werewolves, only stockier, with sharp spines on their backs and mouths full of angry black teeth.
It was enough to make me pull up short. “What are those?” I squinted to get a better look. “And what’s with the pitch of the roof?” You could build a ski jump up there.
Grandma shielded her eyes with her hand. “Oh, the shock of it. A millionaire with more money than taste.” She unstrapped her helmet. “You should see the crazy looking spikes on the roof of the Winchester Mystery House.”
“I’ll put that on the list.” I hadn’t traveled much, at least until I’d gotten mixed up with Grandma and her gang. We’d been too busy fighting minions of the underworld to do much sight seeing.
Still, I could see the recruitment posters now:
So far, I’d been to Las Vegas, California, the Greek islands—not to mention, purgatory, hell and a psycho demon’s laboratory. Come to think of it, a recruiter would need more than a poster.
I hitched a leg over my bike and almost stepped into one of the elaborately trimmed bushes. It sported inch-long thorns and red berries that were probably poisonous.
Never mind. Unless it grew fangs and tried to eat me, I wasn’t going to let a creepy shrub ruin my day.
I dug in my saddlebags for my overnight backpack.
We had a week. One week. And I was going to enjoy it, even if my mom had rented some crazy gothic house in the middle of nowhere.
Hades. I slung my bag over my shoulder.
The sprawling main building had a tower on each side. It looked like there might even be a stone walkway above the second floor, below the roof. The windows were opulent, pointed at the top and decorated with stone carvings of vines and crazy beasts.
It was untamed, fantastical even. I shook my head. I couldn’t escape the fact. “This is so unlike Hillary.”
“To be fair, you sprang an entire summer wedding on her,” Grandma said, drawing a few spell jars out of her saddlebag. “She was probably lucky to find this place.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” I asked as she handed me a Mind Wiper. Inside, a living spell hovered. It was sticky sweet pink and reminded me of a gob of silly putty. The spell refashioned itself at will—flattening, lengthening, and twirling. It saw me watching and did a somersault before thunking up flat against the glass. “Hello to you, too.”
Grandma grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s Rose.” She held up her own jar. “I’ve got Blanche and Dorothy, you know, in case things get out of hand.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Like usual.”
“Yes, well let’s hope the Golden Girls can take a break.” I balanced the jar against my hip as I veered toward the side of the house. “I want to try and go in the back way,” I said when she hesitated.
Grandma frowned. “You sense something bad? If something’s after us, Lizzie, it’s going to attack no matter what.”
“Who said anything about attacking?” I asked, skirting around a box hedge. “I’m trying to avoid my mother. At least until I change out of these leather pants.” Not to mention my midriff-baring purple bustier. Hillary would
