Page 19 of Kissed the Mark
“Hello?” Any telemarketer was about to gettheir head cut off.
“Olympia Carter!” a pleasant voiceexclaimed. “First of all, I have to apologize. The priest at OurLady was all booked up on blessings, but I finally got the crossblessed, and now—”
“Who is this?” I asked, cutting the calleroff from whatever inexplicable tangent this was.
“Beatrice Newell, at your service,” shesaid. “I just wanted to apologize for missing our appointment.”
I sat on the stairs, setting Leandra down.“I’m sorry?” I said.
“Did you get my voicemail?” she asked. “Ihad to cancel the appointment on Friday. I could sage your home andoffer you some protection, but that plus installing a blessed crossis the perfect thing to disinvite a vampire. The priest wasn’t freeto bless it for me.”
“I need four vampires uninvited now,” Isaid, rubbing my forehead. My left hand throbbed a bit. I couldn’tseem to remember if I was up-to-date on my rabies shot—could youget rabies from a vampire-turned-goose at all?
“Damn, I wish I’d known,” Beatrice said.“I’ll have to go back and have him bless another three. I’ll giveyou a full refund for this, Olympia. I’m terribly sorry. Howunprofessional of me.”
“That’s okay, I don’t need a refund,” Isaid. I glanced at Leandra, who seemed to have either calmed downor worked herself into such a state that she fainted. “I do seem tohave a…fowl situation on my hands, if you get my drift.”
“What kind of foul situation?” she asked.“Are you sure it’s something I’d be able to help with?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a—a waterfowlsituation.”
“Have you talked to Rayann Walters? Sheloves working with birds. Maybetoomuch. We all think she’sa little weird, to be honest.”
“I don’t even know how to say this.” Isqueezed the soaked paper towel over the injury on my hand asthough that was going to help. “So, I bought this potion from thatwitch named Martha who works at the farmer’s market. And it turnedmy—my friend into a goose.”
“You bought a goose potion from Martha?”Beatrice asked, clucking her tongue. “You should know she’s notvery talented. Her only skill is making people feel momentarilybetter when they have the common cold. It’s almost less effectivethan Advil, if you ask me. Anyone who has a stand at that farmer’smarket and isn’t booked out honestly isn’t worth their salt,either. You’ll have to get an antidote—”
“Okay, let me clarify. My friend had a boutof amnesia that was possibly supernatural in origin. I tried to buya memory potion from her—or, like, a sinus-clearing potion that hada side effect of increasing memory. And it turned my friend into agoose, and I am pretty sure she doesn’t want to be a goose.”
“What was she before?” Beatrice asked.
I sucked in my breath. “A vampire,” Iadmitted. “And honestly, I don’t know if she’ll make it in thesunlight? Do you know if that kind of potion would change hergenetic makeup to become a goose without vampire powers? Or is shea vampire that looks like a goose? I’m losing my mind trying tothink about it.”
“That isquitea predicament,”Beatrice said. “It’s hard to say without looking at her. I justturned around to beg the priest to bless some more crosses for mesince I stood you up for our appointment—will you meet me at OurLady on the Lake?”
“How do I take the goose out with me? Idon’t even know if she can handle the sunlight.”
“Put her in a cardboard box without anyholes in it.”
“Will she be able to breathe?” I asked,placing a protective hand on the carrier.
“If she’s a vampire, she shouldn’t need to,”Beatrice said. “I’ll see you soon.”
?
Something that would be useful to know aboutme was that I didn’t have a car. I rarely had to use rideshares,because most of Mayfair was within reasonable walking distance, andI didn’t have too many occasions to leave that couldn’t involve apreplanned bus ride. These were the factors that led me to strugglewith my beaten phone to order a ride, and then enter holding acardboard box with a cat carrier inside of it that held a goosestuffed inside ofthat, who very much did not want to bethere. The honking was somewhat muffled through the layers, but thedriver raised an eyebrow at me. He was human, probably from nearbySt. Louis and had the misfortune of being in the area when Isummoned him digitally. He didn’t say anything, though. Everyonearound here knew that the Mayfair pickups were going to be weird,and it was my duty to fulfill expectations.
I was bad at keeping track of the days ofthe week, but I vaguely remembered we’d had a weekend recently,which was likely why the church parking lot was so empty. “Thanks,”I said to the driver, who took another look at my strugglingcardboard box, the blood on my wrapped hand, and the stray hairsituation I had going on and then waved me goodbye.
Beatrice Newell leaned against her gaudylime green Chevy Spark in the parking lot. She waved at me as Iapproached, numerous bracelets clanking. She was middle-aged withunnaturally red-dyed hair, one of those people with at least twoturquoise rings on each finger, who rotated between different totebags with cheesy sayings—like today’s contextless I’M SO EXCITED IWET MY PLANTS—and wore maxi skirts in patterns that hurt my eyesbecause they were so busy. The dashboard of her car was covered incrystals and little jars of herbs, and a bust of Athena that hadbeen looped through with a piece of string dangled from herrearview mirror. I couldn’t help but think that the little marblebust could conk someone fatally on the forehead if you brakedreally suddenly.
“Hi, Beatrice,” I said when I approachedher, setting down the cardboard box. “Thanks for taking the time tolook at this.”
“Let’s see if they’ll let us use a roomwithout any windows?” she asked, gesturing to the Catholicchurch.
I blanched. “Do you really think they’d wantus here?” We had the occasional protest in town from religiousorganizations that thought we worshiped the devil.
“Father Ambrosio is very progressive, Iassure you. He’s my go-to for blessings. Just don’t tell anyoneelse I use him—I don’t want to lose my best contact. He’s hardenough to get ahold of as is.”
