Vera sat a tray of iced teas on the small bourbon barrel table placed between two rocking chairs and lowered herself into the seat next to Porter. The soothing sound of the runners moving back and forth on the old white washed wooden planks, and an occasional clank of ice cubes against their highballs, cut through the evening silence as they rested on the front porch of the General Store.
“He’s coming to see you tonight, Porter.” Vera didn’t take her eyes off the deserted main drag of Rabbit Hash.
“Yes, ma’am.” Mayor Porter Vaughan adjusted his western style oilskin hat, and crossed a long jean-clad leg across one knee.
“Whatcha gonna do about that ole cabin?” She glanced in his direction, admiring his rustic good looks and moving the rocking chair with her toes.
“I reckon, I’ll let our newest resident of Rabbit Hash stay there for a bit.” Pulling a curved pipe and tobacco pouch from the pocket of his plaid shirt, Porter packed a three finger grab of brown leaves in the chamber, tamped it down and struck a match on the bottom of his roper boots. Pulling the flame into the tobacco, he puffed three times before shaking the fire off the stick.
“I reckon you should.” Vera laced her counsel with a familiar warning. Yet, the warning was almost pleasant. Her Cajun cadence disarmed most everyone, enchanted more than enough, and disguised even the most serious situations. Although, it wasn’t just Vera’s voice that captivated. Her warm brown skin, ebony eyes, and wavy black hair all mesmerized people in both the magical and human worlds. Porter did not differ from most in his attraction to Vera, except for one fact. He trusted her. Together, they’d seen the best and worst of both worlds. It was the worst of the magical world that had cemented their bond.
Drawn to what is now Rabbit Hash, in the early 1800s during the famous rabbit Shifter revolution, Porter joined forces with a near feral Vera against a group of rogue witches and warlocks attacking the small rabbit Shifter sanctuary. What would become known as the Predator’s Massacre forever bound them in their efforts to keep Rabbit Hash safe. At that time, a dark magic bubble loomed over the small town. Rendering the town a black hole, keeping humans and white magic at bay. Only witches and warlocks who wielded dark magic could cut through the bubble to fight against the Predators or join the chaos. The massacre that ended it all came after weeks of rabbit Shifter slaughtering, all in the name of luck. That fateful year on the eve of the last day of April, with a full super moon in bloom, Porter and Vera sifted through a graveyard of fallen rabbit Shifters missing their feet. Vera’s panic to find her non-Shifting rabbit familiar grew, as Porter searched for a reason to change. The rogue witches and warlocks had sacrificed the scattered remains of the rabbit Shifters, hungry to live out the ancient myth of the lucky rabbit's foot.
“It’s the Book of Darkness that brought this upon us.” Vera cried, as she fell beside her very own slain grey familiar. “The magical myths section challenges all evil doers to pursue the old ways of life. To test the untested. In that section, lies a recipe for Rabbit Hash made from a witch Shifter.”
“How do you know this, Vera?” Porter recognized he might not like the answer.
“I’m not what you want, Porter. I’m not a white witch. I’m a melting pot of all that was bad in my line.” She stared into his eyes and felt a tear that mirrored his. “I’ve never been anything, but full of darkness.”
“I know, Vera. But we can change. We turn this moment, this place, into everything we’ve both ever needed. Vera,” Porter pleaded. “Help me.”
She sighed, pecked him on the lips, and closed her eyes. “The myth contends that a rabbit's foot cut from a shapeshifter witch is the most powerful amulet in the magical world.”
“But even the most powerful witches can’t shift. And Shifters can’t cast spells. How did the Predator’s ever come to believe this myth was real?” Porter questioned everything.
“They don’t really believe. Someone is telling them to believe. Like a spell upon spell. They’ve been cast upon. And now we’ll cast them out, Porter. We’ll cast them out forever. I’ll keep you safe and you’ll keep me safe. Together, we keep this place safe. Forever keep my beloved Hazey’s resting place sacred.” Lifting the small, grey familiar, Vera took a knife from her back pocket and sliced off the one remaining foot.
She and Porter led the charge against the cursed Predators, helping the last vestiges of the rabbit Shifter army rise and revolt against the darkness. And they won.
From that point, they became a well-respected witch and warlock known to use the full extent of their magical powers to protect the small hamlet they named Rabbit Hash—an effigy of the myth that brought them together. Vera became a clandestine palmist, reading the lines of strangers to thwart any perception of evil. Their General Store served as a bridge between humans and the paranormal — keeping humans out of the business of Rabbit Hash. She and Porter were the eyes, ears, and gates of their special community. And sitting on the porch, sipping her tea, she once again felt trouble brewing.
“You don’t say, huh? Why, Ms. Vera, do you feel so strongly about allowing our Mr. Thatcher and his brood to camp out in that cabin?” Porter resumed his rocking.
“I’m just partial to ‘em. Their an interesting bunch. Shifter babies with an ‘I don’t know what’ for a father. I find that very fascinating.” Vera paused. “I can’t ferret out his powers. There aren’t many palms that trip me up. Something is telling me that our Mr. Thatcher is way more than the mystery that he even appears to be.”
“Hm,” Porter pondered. “Wonder why you didn’t predict his coming when you read those wolves in your cards?”
Vera exhaled, “Yes, I wonder. I couldn’t find a thing in his palm. Very frustrating, Porter. And very unusual.”
“All the more reason the cabin is a good fit for our guests.” Porter smiled.
“Uh-huh,” Vera trailed off, as the ticking chain of Granny Franny’s adult tricycle joined a chorus of chirping crickets. Perched on the brown leather seat of her signature cab yellow contraption, the aging witch known as Granny Franny headed toward the store. Her front basket spilled over with flowers, gathered from her woodland garden. While the rear basket was full of stacks of bakery boxes, headed straight for the General Store.
“Looks like we’re goin’ have lots of company, this evenin’, Vera.” Porter pulled a reamer out of his pocket and scraped the dottle out of his pipe.
“The more the merrier,” she chuckled.
“Evening, Vaughns.” Granny Franny waved toward the porch, keeping the tricycle on the road with one hand.
“Evening, Franny.” Porter tipped his hat as he stood up.
“Nice night for a ride, Franny.” Vera joined her husband.
“I’ve been busy baking up a storm.” The old witch stopped her tricycle and dismounted with a spring in her step. “Not an actual storm, but I used to do that.”
“Glad to hear you’ve been busy,” Porter stepped off the porch and hugged the small, half-hunched frame of the oldest witch he knew. Granny Franny had been around since sometime during the Industrial Revolution. The things she’d seen and experienced in her rich witch life, was the stuff of both fairy tales and horror stories.
“Honey, I can smell those decadent chocolate chocolate chip muffins from here.” Vera crinkled her pert nose and sniffed the air.
Granny Franny shook a long finger in her friends’ direction. “Sugar, you know those are the ones with my special spell baked in, right?”
“Well, of course, Franny. I ain’t eaten any.” Vera laughed.
“You two are nothing but trouble.” Porter passed them with his arms full of the bakery boxes.
“We’re the best kind of trouble, Mayor Vaughn.” Vera winked.
“Only kind of trouble to be.” Franny snickered.
A baying noise echoed across the road, and the Mayor, his wife, and Granny Franny turned to watch the new wolf Shifter boys running around the large Dawn Redwood in Betty Babington’s dental delivery station yard. Gates Thatcher strode past his wild pack and down the cobblestone path, straight toward them.
“Looks like I should get this stuff inside. You ladies care to do a little entertainin’ in my absence.” Porter nodded toward Gates.
“Besides bakin’ up spells, that’s my other specialty,” Franny’s grin stretched all the way to the tips of her emerald green eyes. “Just call me bewitchin’.”
Vera snickered and wrapped her arm around the hunched witch, and led her to the rocking chairs on the porch, “Ain’t that the truth. We’ll be fine Porter.”
Gates never broke stride as he walked further away from his romping wolf Shifters, leaving them to roam the woods and burn off some energy.
“Don’t stray too far, boys. Fin, you’re in charge,” he shouted over his shoulder, then trotted across the street to the porch of the General Store.
“Good evening, Gates Thatcher,” Vera stood. “I’d like you to meet my dear friend, and a bona fide Rabbit Hash treasure, Frances O’Kelly.”
Gates held out his hand to greet Frances, “very nice to meet you, ma’am, I’m Gates Thatcher.”
“Deary, it’s my pleasure to meet you. Please call me Franny. Or even Granny Franny.” The petite old witch cackled. “Most folks around here do.”
“Of course, it’d be my honor, Granny Franny.” Gates smiled.
“Vera, sweet cheeks, you did not tell me he was such a looker.” Granny Franny nudged Vera with her elbow. “If only I were a century younger.”
“Well, Granny Franny, I hadn’t gotten that far in my tale, yet.” She smirked.
“You both are too kind.” Gates skin heated and his beard was no cover for the flush that rushed over his face.
“I see these two are attempting to charm you.” Porter pulled the General Store’s glass doors closed and locked them with an old skeleton key.
The two witches entwined their arms and smiled.
“And it’s working.” Gates once again extended his hand to introduce himself. “You must be the Mayor. I’m Gates Thatcher. Thanks so much for seeing me.”
“Porter. You can call me Porter.” The Mayor met Gates eye to eye. “I hear you’re looking for a place to stay?”
“I am. Well, we are,” Gates glanced over his shoulder, again. “I have four boys.”
“Yes, my wife, Vera, mentioned your circumstances.” Porter gestured to two empty rocking chairs. “Let’s sit a spell.”
Gates narrowed his dark blue eyes and followed. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize the two of you were…”
Vera smiled. “Endless surprises here in Rabbit Hash. Endless surprises. But you like a good puzzle, don’t you Gates.”
“I suppose so.” Gates agreed.
“My Vera keeps everyone on their toes here, Gates. The General Store is our very own bridge that serves the humans and our kind. So, she’s not always forthcoming.” Porter glossed over Vera’s omission.
“Understood. Protection is serious business.” Gates agreed.
“Always has been here,” Porter said.
“So, I’m interested in the accommodations. The cabin you have available.” Gates was all business after the debacle he’d suffered across the street. Small talk wasn’t appealing.
“Yes,” Porter stood and leaned on the porch post, pointing out of town. “You see down the road there, where it starts to bend back into the woods? Take the dirt path on the right. You’ll pass the Wallbanger’s house, and head on up the hill to the cabin. Once you see the lake, you’ve arrived.” Reaching into his jeans pocket, Porter fished out a set of old keys and dropped them into Gates’ hand.
“It’s an oasis.” Granny Franny exclaimed. “A fir piece out in the woods, but I’ll bring you some goodies. I haven’t had reason to bike out that direction in quite some time.”
“What a good idea?” Vera chimed in. “Why, one of his babies gobbled up a chocolate chocolate chip muffin this afternoon.”
“Fair warning, Gates. They will spoil you and your Shifters if you’re not careful.” Porter rested both hands halfway in his front pockets, while a lazy smile crept across his face.
Betty threw off her high heels and grabbed a pair of tennis shoes from underneath her desk.
“Where are you going, Mom?” Birdie cocked her head to the side and peered at her hurried mother.
“I’ve got to get across the street to the General Store before my life takes an absolute wrong turn,” blurting out the truth had never felt so good. She knew Birdie might not yet understand her urgency, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt scared and excited, and a mess. All the things she’d tried to avoid since moving to this sleepy little hollow. She wanted nothing more than to throw all her caution away and dive headlong into the complications of love.
Her daughter giggled. “You’re all gooey and mushy inside, aren’t you?”
“I guess I am,” Betty mused. “And why are you still here? I thought you were transporting to Grandma’s house?”
Birdie walked over to her mother, followed by the flurry of butterflies that floated behind her, a cascading extension of her curly red hair. Laying a tiny hand on her shoulder, she spoke in a hushed murmur, “I am. Soon. You’re happy, a different happy, though. This one’s not going anywhere.”
Taking her daughter’s small hand in her own, Betty squeezed. “Thank you, Birdie. You will always be my true happy.”
Birdie took her mother’s face in both of her hands, “Our bond is unbreakable, because it allows us to love others with the same unadulterated abandon.”
Betty scoffed, as she pulled Birdie onto her lap, “What the hell, Birdie? When did you become so wise?”
“Always.” Birdie kissed her mother’s cheek and scooted out of her lap. “Now, I’m taking the kaleidoscope and hitting the transporting highway. Love you, mom.” A sudden puff of rainbow clouds and sparks surrounded the petite witch as she disappeared into the vapor.
Betty shook her head in amazement. How lucky she was to have Birdie, and so many others, on her witchy life journey. Something about chatting with Job had knocked some sense into her thick, witchy skull. She’d missed the one opportunity that had come knocking when Gates left her standing in the waiting room, alone. She’d let him leave. Now she was going to get him back. Heading straight out the front door of the Dental Delivery Station, Betty Babington jogged across the street to the General Store, joining the group of townsfolk sitting on the front porch.
“Hey, folks,” she gasped a tad bit. A witch out of breath from jogging was unusual. But one whose nerves were working overtime on the circulatory system would definitely cause a little gasping.
“Evening, Betty.” Porter shoved himself off the railing of the porch and stepped down the front steps to greet her. He was the consummate southern gentleman.
“Evening.” She said again and looked in Gates’ direction.
The gathered group followed her stare. With all eyes gazing at him, Gates shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cleared his throat, “Evening.”
“Well, I came over to invite you all to a thing tomorrow night. Over at my place. We’re going to be releasing quite a lot of tooth fairies, and if you’ve never seen that happen. Well, it’s an amazing sight.” A flush of red washed over her face. Betty wiped at some imaginary sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand.
“I’m honored, Betty. For as long as you’ve been here in Rabbit Hash, you’ve kept that little miracle all to yourself.” Vera let her eyes wander between Betty and the anomaly that was Gates. “Porter and I are the curious kind. We accept.”
“I’m definitely coming to watch that. I’ll bake us up some treats. You gotta have good fixins’ for something so special.” Granny Franny rubbed her hands together, like she was staving off a chill.
“Wonderful. That’s wonderful. I’m thrilled you guys are coming.” Betty hesitated, and looked back to Gates, “how about you? I’d really like you to be there. Kinda my way of saying I’m sorry. And I’m an idiot.”
Gates walked down the steps without a word, never taking his eyes off Betty. Planting his feet on the gravel walkway in front of her, he stood still, except for a tug at the corners of his mouth. Everyone held their breath.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Enveloping her around the waist, Gates swung Betty around and kissed her on the lips for longer than expected.
She laughed and giggled until he put her down. “You had me there for a moment. I really didn’t know what you were thinking.”
“I was thinking, it was an excellent decision for you to come to your senses.” He held her around the waist with one arm and turned to the group on the porch. “I guess we’ll be seeing you all tomorrow night for some tooth fairy magic.”
“Cheers to that,” Porter raised his iced tea.
“Cheers,” everyone joined.