Hillary leaned forward, fascinated. “What’s that?”
Oh, no. I put my teacup down. “We do not need to be teaching her any drinking games.”
Frieda wrapped an arm around my mom’s shoulders. “
My mom clasped her hands together. “I love games! What are the rules?”
She didn’t like games. She never played games.
“It’s easy,” Frieda drawled. “When it’s your turn, say something you’ve never done. Anyone who
“Stop,” I ordered them.
“Me first,” Hillary said. “I Never…” She rubbed her hands together. “…visited Oklahoma!”
She giggled as all the biker witches drank.
Oh, come on. “That was so not…” You know what? Good. I was glad Hillary didn’t know how to play. Maybe Frieda and company would get bored and stop.
Grandma piped in. “I never lied about my age.”
Hillary paused, confusion flickering across her features as Frieda drank heartily. The biker witch wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Remember. You drink if you’ve done it,” she said, patting my mom on the leg. Hillary broke into a wide grin and drank.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I said. “Who wants to admit they’re a biker witch?”
“I never skinny dipped,” Ant Eater declared.
“We don’t need to know that,” I said, as everyone drank, except for my mom and me. Of course.
Frieda raised her cup, a mischievous grin tickling her lips. “I never had sex on the kitchen table.”
My mom clinked her teacup against Frieda’s and drank.
“Awww…” I used to have breakfast at that table. “M-o-m,” I protested in a voice I swear I hadn’t used since high school.
An hour with her and I’d already reverted back two decades.
Hillary wiped a dribble of tea off her bottom lip. “What honey? I’m a woman with needs. Thank goodness your father has never been shy—”
“Enough!” I’d pry the teacups from their hands if I had to.
Doggie claws scrambled across the hardwood. “Lizzie!”
Pirate, my Jack Russell Terrier, bolted into the sitting room like he was on fire. He was mostly white, with a dollop of brown on his back that wound up his neck and over one eye.
Ever since I became a demon slayer, I could talk to my dog. In real sentences. He thought it was the greatest thing on earth. For me, it depended on the day.
He skidded on the rug at the entrance and nearly thwacked into a plant stand before rushing headlong for me.
“Not now, Pirate” I said, as he leapt up into my arms. I awkwardly adjusted my cup on the table so it wouldn’t get hit with a flailing dog leg.
“Oh, hell yes, now.” Pirate squirmed, digging dirty paws against my dress. “I can’t believe you’re in here clinking tea cups when we got problems.”
Okay, well it was a good thing non-magical people, like Hillary, couldn’t understand him. I managed to get my cup on the table. Barely. I then held my dog up and away from my dress. His knobby little legs dangled uselessly. “What’s wrong?”
Pirate looked at my mom. “Let’s just keep her away from the windows.”
Yeah, well I had a feeling an entire marching band could parade by and my mom wouldn’t notice.
Still, when I glanced at the big picture window, I didn’t see anything. Not even a dragon.
Hillary wrinkled her nose. “I forgot what yappy dog you have.”
“Oh, geez. He interrupted your game? I’m sorry.” Not.
“What’s he got?” Grandma asked, with a notable slur to her voice. She could understand Pirate, too. Most magical people could.
“I’ll say it to you plain.” Pirate struggled to get down. “I understand you have sandwiches. I am a big believer in food. But you need to see the creepy looking crazy bomb I found in the garden.”
I stood. “I need to take Pirate out.” He had a nose for trouble. And the will to find it. I buried my nose against the wiry fur at his neck. “You’re going to show me and only me.”
It’s not like I could count on the biker witches’ discretion at the moment.
Or their sobriety.
But before I left, I asked, “Can I borrow a quarter?”
Creely found one in her pocket. She handed it to me and I slammed it on the table.
“It’s my wedding party,” I announced, “and I say no more
“Strip quarters?” Frieda asked, hopefully.
“Regular quarters,” I told her.
“Who knew she’d be such a bridezilla?” Frieda muttered to my mom.
I tucked Pirate under my arm and headed out.
Chapter Five
On the way out, I grabbed my switch star belt off the hall table. I never should have walked in there without it. Damn fashion. It wasn’t just the weapons. The belt had pouches for various crystals, powders and any other concoctions the biker witches invented for me. Around here, it seemed I was going to need all the help I could get.
Pirate dashed ahead, his nails clicking against the slate tile. “It all started when I was digging in the rose garden.”
“Pirate,” I warned, slipping the belt around my waist.
That back garden was the only bright, non-Adams-Family spot in the house. I hoped.
I really didn’t want to have my wedding in the gothic sitting room.
He tilted his head. “Well, I wasn’t exactly digging. I simply happened to be there.”
The dog did not know how to lie.
His tail was up, his legs going a mile a minute. “But I have to warn you, there may be a few holes. You gotta remember it’s my instinct. It’s not anything personal.”
“Stick to the facts,” I said, as he stopped at the back door.
He turned in a circle and sat. “Okay. I smelled something good. I followed it. Then I saw the creepy shit.”
Good enough for me.
I opened the heavy wood door and Pirate led the way out into the garden. The late summer sun felt good on my face and arms. It was a relief to be outside where I had a chance to breathe, to think.
My utility belt was chilly around my waist. It was always ten degrees cooler than everything around it, which was a blessing in this case because I was sweating like a fiend.
We passed a sculpture of a crying mermaid as I followed my dog down a gray stone path through a series of low flowerbeds. The garden was laid out in a series of triangular plantings with paths criss-crossing them every so often.
In fact, we had to switch paths several times as we zigzagged deeper and deeper into the foliage. The constant hum of insects grew louder as the garden grew taller. Flowering wolf eye trees, their leaves streaked with red, hung heavy over us. They blocked the direct sun, making my skin chill.
Thorny rose bushes climbed to the left and right, their branches twisted, their foliage overlapping. Somebody needed to take a pair of pruning sheers out here. I had no doubt my mother would take care of it. Once
