Daria’s gaze darted around the yard, at the woods behind the house. “She was scary sometimes.”
“Scary, how?”
“She has a thing for pentagrams.” Daria pointed at my chimney. “I wasn’t sure if your—what did you call it? A triquetra?—was the same sort of thing.”
Time to take the next step. “If she is a witch, there’s a possibility she put a spell on you. The bad luck is more a side effect, the spell running its course.” I paused, waiting to see how she reacted to what I’d said.
“This has been going on for six months,” she wailed. “I don’t know how much more I can take. Can’t you do something?”
I nodded. This was what the grimoire had prepared me for. “I’m going to give you a list of things. I need you to find them and bring them to me. Then we’ll see what we can do about breaking the spell.” I wrote down the ingredients and handed the piece of paper to her.
Daria gasped. “Nightshade? You mean like deadly nightshade?”
I laughed. “Nightshade vegetables. Like a tomato or an eggplant or a pepper. That should be the easiest of the ingredients to find.”
“Where am I supposed to find mistletoe in August? And a castor bean plant? I don’t even know what that is.”
I glanced at the garden, where Nora had grown castor beans a few years ago. The plants had died after the damage from the fire and I hadn’t restarted new ones. “I doubt it will be as hard as you think.”
She crumpled the piece of paper and stuffed it into her purse. “The very definition of FML.”
Her slang for how bad her life had become didn’t sit well with me when I was trying to help her. “It’s the best I can offer. You’re free to find help elsewhere.”
Daria heaved a sigh. “I lived with Madeleine. I’ve seen the things she can do.” She squinted at me. “You’re not like her. Why not?”
“I don’t know anything about your friend, but I prefer to use the things I’ve learned to help people. Even if I didn’t, I’m a firm believer in karma.” Harm sent forth returns threefold. Madeleine’s spell, assuming that’s what was causing Daria’s sudden run of bad luck, seemed more punitive than harmful. The grimoire had provided me with the antidote—if Daria returned with the ingredients. Considering her attitude, I figured I’d better make sure she knew I wouldn’t remove the spell gratis. “I will expect payment when you come back.”
“I’m unemployed. Whatever you charge, I can’t afford to pay you.”
“I’m willing to barter my services. What can you offer?”
She pursed her lips. “The only thing I have right now are the dreamcatchers I sell at craft fairs. Would that work?”
Nora and I had sold dreamcatchers on consignment when Windfall had been a gift shop, and I’d seen them at the Lithia Fairs I’d been to over the past year. The value should be commensurate. I nodded. She gave me one more pointed look and nearly walked into Kyle as she left.
“Who was that?” Kyle asked.
“Someone looking for help.”
He leaned toward me, his expression tight. “For the record, I don’t like random people showing up.”
I recognized his mood for what it was and opted not to point out this wasn’t his house.
For now.
Chapter 4
Kyle grilled the steak and shrimp for dinner while I put together a salad. When he brought the food inside, I poured him a beer and we settled at the table to eat.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “This is so much better than pizza or hamburgers.”
“I thought we should have something special for the anniversary of our first date.”
He huffed. “How do you even remember things like that?”
Nice. As much as I wanted to shake him out of his depression, four months of this was getting old. So much for my latest attempt, and I wasn’t certain I was willing to make another. I pasted on a smile and went back to a safer topic of conversation. “You and Chip could take a little grill to use when you’re away from home.”
“And make what? Hot dogs? Bratwurst? Beans in a can? Not that I’m complaining, but I miss real food. Thanks for this,” he said. “I’m sorry for being so cranky. I worry about you when I’m not here.”
“You won’t be working in Door County forever.” I took a bite of my shrimp and hummed. “This is delicious. Thanks for cooking.”
“Yeah, and when I’m done in Door County? Then what? I’m an unemployed bum again.”
“You’re not a bum.”
“This isn’t how I pictured our life together,” he said again before he took a sip of his beer.
“You mean sitting together on a Friday night, eating a nice dinner?” I tried to tease a smile from him.
“We should have been married by now.”
“We still could be.”
Kyle frowned. “Not until things get better.”
I’d reached the end of my patience. “Who gets to decide what’s better?” I asked. “I thought I had some say in all of this.” I set down my utensils. “You’ve been there for me for a lot of ‘worse.’ It’s my turn to be there for you. That’s how this whole thing works. Or did you have a different idea of for better or worse?”
“We’ve been over this.” His dismissive tone rankled. “It doesn’t get much worse than this,” he said half to himself.
“It could be a lot worse. You could have someone trying to burn you alive in your own house, or inviting you to visit and then trying to kill you.” Both of which scenarios I’d managed to survive.
“I’m not going to drag you down. I want to be able to take care of you. I’ve got applications in with other police departments. With a little luck, I’ll be back on the job soon.”
I’d learned to live my life trusting the world would provide and
