Page 14 of Minions and Magic
“Don’t taste any better the third time. Sakes alive Glenda, how can you cook food the angels would fight over but your magic potions taste so darned horrible?”
I laughed. “Trust me, if I could figure out how to make them taste better and still heal, I would. Sometimes you need to suffer, you know? There’s a price for everything in this world, and downing a horrible-tasting potion is the price for healing magic it seems.”
Stanley shuddered. “Wish it didn’t taste like butt and paint and rotted cabbage though.”
I took the empty Thermos from him. “Is Bart coming by tonight?”
The werewolf regarded the ground intently. “Don’t know. I hope so, but I don’t want him getting in trouble.”
“If not, then you need to let me know,” I told him. “Cassie’s going to make sure you’ve got wards around your property and Bronwyn’s working on an amulet for you. We’ve got your house covered, but maybe a couple of Sheriff Oakes’s deputies can keep watch for tonight, or Cassie and Lucien can swing by to check on you.”
Stanley shifted his weight, his nose wrinkling as he glanced up at me. “Hate for everyone to go to all that bother. I’m a werewolf. I’m fine.”
“You were squashed by a car less than a day and a half ago,” I retorted. “You may feel fine, but I don’t think you’re as strong as you normally are. Let us help, Stanley. You’re part of our community. This is what we witches do for residents of Accident. And it’s what we do for friends.”
He nodded, his smile warm. “Thanks, Glenda. I really appreciate it, you know. I’m thankful that you saw me there under the car, and that you’ve been helping me with your magic. When I was exiled from the pack, I felt so alone, but you, and Sylvie, and your sisters have been good friends to me. I hadn’t expected that. It’s good to know I’ve got friends.”
“You most definitely have friends.”
I let myself out, making sure I locked the door as I left. In spite of the huge to-do list I had waiting for me at home, I made a detour to the fire department. The doors were open revealing the big ladder truck in one bay and the ambulance in the other. The smaller response vehicle had been pulled out and Skip was there, topless with a pair of Daisy Dukes, washing the truck. The fact that he was a half giant meant it was easy for him to clean the roof. It also meant that every time he leaned forward, his jean shorts rode up and I got a nice view of the lower half of his hairy butt hanging out.
I waved, Skip returning the gesture with a soapy sponge; then I headed inside to see my sister Ophelia sitting on a wooden folding chair, reading a book. She set it aside as I approached, rising to give me a hug.
“What’s up?”
I glanced at the cover of the book, intrigued that she was reading a biography of Benjamin Franklin.
“Wondering if you had a moment to do a divination for me?” I asked.
“New moon.” She grimaced. “And Mercury retrograde. I couldn’t even do the scrying that Cassie wanted me to do. The only person I could perform a fully accurate divination for right now would be Eshu.”
I smiled thinking about the demon, or god of chaos, or whatever my sister Sylvie’s boyfriend was. “How about a less than accurate divination?”
“About you and that crossroads demon?” Ophelia wiggled her eyebrows and I felt myself blush.
“No, although if he comes up, I’d love any information you can give me on him. What I really want to know about is Stanley—especially if you can give me any insight into who might have attacked him as well as if he’s in danger of another attack in the near future.”
Ophelia nodded. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll see what I can do.”
I followed her back through the firehouse, accepting a dark, hot cup of coffee from Brandy who was finishing up with the breakfast dishes. She took one look at Ophelia and smiled, excusing herself to give us privacy. Given my sister’s work schedule, her co-workers were used to the firehouse kitchen being home to Tarot cards and crystal balls in addition to coffee cups and pots of spaghetti.
I sat and waited for her to pull out a bag of runes or cards, but instead Ophelia sat a small mirror on the table between us.
“Sit and drink your coffee while I concentrate.”
“What, no Ouiji board?” I teased.
She lifted one eyebrow. “And wait here all day while the planchet spells everything out one agonizing letter at a time? Ain’t nobody got time for that.”
I chuckled, then fell silent, watching and sipping the dark sludge in my mug as my sister worked her magic.
“A false sense of peace then danger,” Ophelia whispered. “Red. Not blood, but red…paint? It smells familiar but I can’t quite place it. Obnoxious ladies-night-at-the-disco cologne. Rocks. Something that I think might be chocolate. Meat spilling off a plate as it falls to the ground.”
“That’sa crime,” I told her.
“Hush,” she scolded. “A choice. A crossroads…no, more of a fork in the road. One path requires trust at great risk. That path drops from sight a few feet in. I can’t tell if it goes off a cliff, or just slopes out of sight. The other path is straight, steady, and familiar, but the destination ahead is shrouded in mist.”
That made no sense. The crossroads might have referred to the demon I met Saturday, but Ophelia’s fork-in-the-road prophecy didn’t seem to mesh with that interpretation. And I had no idea what any of this had to do with Stanley. The red paint, the cologne, yes, but the rest?
