Page 36 of Waltzing With Witches

I can’t have that. I stroke the front door fondly, then jog back across the street to the historical society. A sign on the door indicates that, while the society doesn’t technically open until nine a.m., anyone is welcome to come in and look for what they need.

I push the front door open, a bell tinkling just inside the entrance. The scent of thousands of books hits me, and I suck it in greedily. Wren has always been the most bookish of the three of us sisters, but I still love a library or bookstore. Smiling, I cut a light on. Somehow, I sense the society is awake and listening to me, even though there isn’t an employee here yet.

Placing my hand on the wooden front desk, I pat its surface lightly. “Hello, friend. I’m on the hunt for a VHS player. You wouldn’t happen to have one, would you? Ben—err, the Keeper’s castle, seems to think you do.”

A door creaks open somewhere in the back.

“Thank you!” I shout as I rush down a row of bookshelves toward the sound.

The historical society is deceivingly big, as it turns out, and it takes me a few minutes to make my way through the labyrinth of bookshelves to find any sort of door. But I do find it, along the backmost wall of the society building. I push through and fumble around for a light switch.

When I turn it on, I’m in a small classroom. It looks straight out of the 50s, complete with the all-in-one desk and chair combo. A tiny shelf underneath each seat provides space to put your books on. A giant black chalkboard lines the front of the room. Faded lines indicate someone has used this room to teach.

There’s no teacher’s desk in this classroom, but a VHS player on a stand sits to one side.

“Yes!” I shout, rushing across the room to the player.

But when I get to it, I slow down.

Am I really doing this?

And am I really doing this alone?

Without thinking, I lift my wrist and speak directly into my comm watch, “Please call Thea Hector.”

Thea’s name hologram blinks above my wrist for a few seconds.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice comes through clear as a bell. I’d think she’d be tired, but she’s a detective at heart. She can wake up in about half a second and be ready to go investigate shit.

“Not wrong, exactly,” I say. “Can you come to the historical society?”

Through the watch, I hear a rustle and a deep, manly groan, followed by light footsteps. “On my way. Need anything from my place if this isn’t an emergency?”

“Nah, I’m gonna call Wren,” I say.

Thea clicks off. I hesitate for a moment. Do I want to be surrounded by people when I watch this tape? I second-guess myself for a moment, then remember that my sisters and Lou are my favorite people in the entire world. I call Lou and Wren next, and like Thea, they rise to the occasion.

I sit in the classroom, VHS tape in hand until they arrive. I try to use the time to mull over what the Keeper shared last night.

He asked if I remembered him.

That’s a dumb question.

That New Year’s Eve kiss rearranged my DNA. I think about it every year at New Year’s, and I’ve compared every kiss since then to his. Nothing ever came close.

Holy shit, I’ve actually kissed the Keeper. That’s so…weird.

Turns out fate has a sense of humor.

The front door opens loudly, and the sound of my sisters’ voices echoes back.

I stand and make my way toward the front, grinning when the girls come into view.

Thea’s wearing jeans and a tee, her blond hair pulled into a messy bun that matches mine. Wren’s got a silky black robe over a floor-length negligee of some sort, black lace peeking out around the edges. Lou is wearing one-piece teddy bear pajamas that hug her curves indecently.

“Jesus, you three are a sight,” I huff out.

Lou sips at a cup of coffee, her eyeballs barely open. “Listen, bitch, till the stars die and all. We love you, and we’re here; don’t expect a lot more at this time of day. If the sun isn’t up, we shouldn’t be either, ya know?”

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