Page 19 of Witches of Dubious Origin
I sipped my cocoa and refocused on the novel. I’d managed to read half a page when I heard a scuffling noise coming from the front porch. I told myself it was the wind and started the next paragraph. The disturbance became louder. I ignored it. Then I heard a tapping noise and decided I needed to investigate what was happening outside.
I put down my novel and shoved my blanket aside. I glanced out the window beside the door. There was no one on the porch. I cautiously opened the door. I checked the walkway to the street. No one was there. I studied the wind chimes hanging on the corner of the porch. They weren’t moving, so it hadn’t been a breeze. I shifted my gaze to the two wicker chairs to the right. They were empty, but perched on the back of one of them was the raven.
“Ah!” I shouted, startled. Had this uninvited guest been making all that racket? He was the only one here, so it had tohave been him. I was equal parts relieved and annoyed. I walked toward the bird. He didn’t move. I raised my arms and waved my hands at him. “Shoo!”
He turned his head to the side and stared at me with one beady, pale blue eye, as if assessing my threat level. It was going to be high if he pooped on my furniture.
“Party’s over!” I clapped my hands. The sound was loud in the evening quiet. He flapped his wings and flew from the chair to the porch railing. I clapped again. “You don’t have to go home, big guy, but you can’t stay here.”
With a leap, he jumped off the railing and soared out into the darkness. I glanced at the houses on each side of mine. My octogenarian neighbor Mrs. Graham’s house was dark. She went to bed promptly at eight every evening. And the Perkins family on the other side of me appeared to be out, since their minivan wasn’t in the driveway. Their boys must have had soccer practice. All was quiet. I turned and went back inside, assured that peace had been restored.
I had just settled into my chair and started reading when there was a thumping sound on the porch.
“Oh hell no,” I muttered. “We’re not doing this all night.”
I tossed aside my blanket and crossed to the door. I unlocked it and yanked it open. “I said,Shoo!”
But it wasn’t the raven. Instead, standing before me was a diminutive, very pale ash-blond woman of a certain age, I was guessing mid- to late fifties. She was wearing a beige wool coat and clutching a stylish handbag, which matched her equally fashionable shoes.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I certainly hope so, dear,” she said. Her blue eyescrinkled in the corners when she smiled at me. “I’m Eloise Tate, a childhood friend of your grandmother’s.”
“Excuse me?” I asked. The odds of Mamie coming up in conversation twice in one day had to be a million to one. Years of my life had passed without my grandmother being mentioned and now she’d been mentioned twice. My gut twisted. Something wasn’t right.
“Antoinette Donadieu—Toni—she was your grandmother, yes?” Eloise tipped her head to the side as she studied me. “Your resemblance to her is uncanny.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude, but Mamie would be in her eighties now. There’s no way you’re old enough to have been a childhood friend of hers.”
“Oh, but I was,” Eloise said. “Sadly, I passed away when I was fifty-two.”
“Passed away?” I choked the words out.
“Yes, but dear Toni brought me back and I was her faithful companion right up until the day she died. Now I need you, Zoe, to send me on.”
“Send you on?” I repeated. There was a buzzing in my ears, probably panic, which made it hard to hear her.
“Yes, you have the grimoire from your mother, right? Which means you have the spell to send me across the veil to the other side.” She beamed and I noticed a fleck of pink lipstick on her teeth.
“You’re telling me you’re dead.” I looked her over. She was clearlynotdead. So…what the actual fuck was going on here?
“Oh, I can assure you, I’m very much deceased.” She nodded. “Toni planned to return me before she passed away, butthe grimoire was stolen and Toni was murdered before she had the chance.”
“Murdered?” My chest felt tight. I couldn’t get enough air, everything went fuzzy, and I started to see spots. I leaned heavily against the doorjamb. “Who exactly murdered her? Do you know?”
“Why, it was your mother, dear.”
7
My knees wobbled. I stared at the wholesome-looking woman standing in front of me. The chilly night air made me shiver as it slipped past me, into my house, as if it had just been waiting for an opening.
“How do you know about—?” I stopped. Should I admit that I had the grimoire to a stranger? Probably not. I only had her word that she was who she said she was, and who she said she was did not seem even remotely possible to me. I took a steadying breath.
Eloise tipped her head to the side and blinked at me. She didn’t look dead. Perhaps she was excessively pale, but otherwise, she appeared absolutely normal. Her cheeks were round, her nose pert, and her eyes were kind and filled with understanding. Clearly the strange woman was suffering from something, but being dead wasn’t it.
“Why did you say that Mamie was murdered by my mother?” I put aside her claim of being deceased for the moment and focused on the statement that alarmed me the most, as it seemed overly personal.
“I thought it was common knowledge,” Eloise said.
