“I don’t know why we don’t just teleport,” Tizzy complained for the umpteen-millionth time. “You’re a witch going on witch business. Why did we have to drive?”
“It’s only a five-hour drive, Tiz.” I didn’t want to admit that it had been so long since I’d teleported that I was afraid I’d land us in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Besides, I didn’t mind driving. “Quit being so dramatic,” I added.
An almond shell whacked the side of my head.
“Stop that.” I snatched the bag of nuts from Tizzy’s lap.
Her already high voice went up an octave. “Giveemtomerightnow!”
“You be nice, and I’ll be nice.”
Her tiny lower lip trembled, and her large brown eyes widened.
“Oh fine.” I gave her back the nuts. “You know. You’re my familiar. You’re supposed to serve me. Not the other way around.”
Tizzy cracked another nut. “You start acting like a witch, and I’ll start acting like a witch’s familiar.”
She sorta had a point. “I’m sorry, Tisiphone,” I said, using her given name. “You deserved better than me.”
She shrugged her furry shoulders. “It’ll be nice to get back to Paradise Falls. There is a certain chipmunk shifter who I’m anxious to rekindle a flame with.”
“Please tell me you’re not talking about Jackie Stringer?” She was the only chipmunk shifter I knew in school.
Tiz’s silence seemed to confirm my suspicion.
“Seriously?” Jackie had been one of those bubbly brainiacs. A combination of cutes and smarts that sometimes turned a girl mean. “She asked me if I was ‘Hazed and confused’ after I failed a history exam my sophomore year.”
Tizzy smiled, her two front teeth shining bright and her eyes flashing with satisfaction. “What can I say?” Her expression was coy. “She kissed a squirrel, and she liked it.”
“Oh, my Goddess. How did I not know this was happening right under my own nose?”
“You were a teenager, Haze. You couldn’t see anything that didn’t involve you and all that angsty drama.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead and struck a despondent pose. “Oh, Tiz, I love him so much, but he doesn’t know I exist.” She hit another pose. “Tizzy, I got an A-minus on my chemistry test. I want to die. Tiz, Mom won’t let me go to a party with Lily. She is trying to kill my social life. Blah, blah, blah.”
“I get it,” I said, dismissing her antics. “So, Jackie Freaking Stringer.”
“Haters gonna hate.”
Her enthusiasm was like a wake-up call. In the years since I’d left Paradise Falls, I’d never really thought about what it had meant for Tizzy. She was always waiting for me at home. She’d kept herself hidden when I’d gone to the police academy and later when I’d had to stay at Quantico. Never in all that time did she complain about being lonely. But I could see real excitement on her face as we neared my old hometown. It was a joy I hadn’t seen in her for so long that I didn’t even know it was missing.
A sign ahead touted: Paradise Falls – 2 Miles. “We’re almost there.”
I got into the right-hand lane for the exit as Tizzy tapped her fingers on her bag of nuts and hummed a Katy Perry song.
When I got off the highway, I could feel the magical wards placed on the exit ramp. They were designed to repulse humans and keep them from wandering into town accidentally. A dilapidated billboard on the rural road leading into town read, “Welcome to Paradise Falls.”
As I drove through town, we passed a few cars and trucks, and there were people walking down the sidewalks going about their business. But, strangely, many of the buildings had broken windows, patchy roofs, and were in serious need of fresh paint.
Tizzy had her face pressed against the passenger window. “What in ten holy hells has happened here?”
“I wish I knew.” No matter how much I’d hated the place, it had been a lovely town. After the main four-way stop by the courthouse and police department, I took a left and headed south toward the shifter part of town. To Lily’s house.
If the main part of town was rundown, Lily’s block was ramshackle.
Tizzy nibbled on a claw. “I’m scared now, Hazel.”
“We’ll be fine,” I told her, but I couldn’t keep the nervous butterflies in my tummy still. Automatically, I patted my Glock.
Tizzy noticed. “Surrre. We’ll be fine, says the lady arming herself for a homecoming.”
I moved my hand away from my piece and back to the steering wheel. “Lily’s the next block over.”
When I parked, Tizzy rolled down the window. “Do you mind? I want to check out the neighborhood.”
“And a certain Jackie Stringer?” I gave her a wary glance. “Besides, I thought you were scared?”
“Don’t be a buzzkill. Besides, you can’t hurt what you can’t catch.”
She had a point. Tizzy was small but quick and resourceful. “Go,” I told her. “Have fun.”
Tizzy didn’t wait for me to change my mind. She was out the window in less than a second, and all I saw was squirrel butt in my rearview mirror as she hurried down the sidewalk and out of view.
The Mason house was on Felicity, one of the many ridiculous “heavenly” names the town’s forefathers had given the streets. I’d grown up on Arcadia, uber-grateful my parents hadn’t bought a house on Shangri-La.
The white paint was peeled and cracked on the small two-story home, but the lawn was mowed, the windows were clean, and the porch was clutter-free. A green and yellow compact truck with a short box bed was parked in the small driveway. The dent behind the back left wheel brought back fond memories of our hell-raising days.
“Haze!” Lily shouted as she ran out her front door. She’d lost weight since high school, and even back then, she hadn’t had any extra pounds to spare. Her shirt hung loose, and her jeans were held up with a belt. Her hair was still the most beautiful shade of russet red.
I looked at her truck and grinned, “I can’t believe you’re still driving this old beater.”
“Martha is reliable.” Lily put her hands on her hips and nodded to me. “Unlike someone else I could mention.”
“Hey,” I help up my hands. “I’m here now.”
She paused a couple of feet in front of me. “Yes,” she said. “You are.”
This close, I could see how bloodshot her eyes were. So much so, it dimmed the vibrant green of her irises. I scooped her into my arms and squeezed her until her back popped. “I’m so sorry about Danny.”
“Me too,” she said, sad and sick with grief. We hugged until she patted me on the back and eased out of my embrace. “Most days, I’m okay. Knowing you were coming, re-started the waterworks.” She hugged me again, quickly and briefly. “I’m really glad you’re here. Maybe you can get the answers that I can’t.”
“I’ll talk to the police chief in the morning.”
“Fun, fun,” she quipped.
“Yep. As fun as a root canal.”
Lily gave me an incredulous look. “You’ve had a root canal?”
“Not hardly,” I scoffed. Witches didn’t suffer from human ailments like bad teeth. Which meant I could have all the chocolate I wanted, never brush my teeth, and still have healthy, pearly whites. “But I’ve heard they’re awful. Anyhow, I plan on talking to the chief as a courtesy.”
“That’ll be interesting.” She gave me an appraising stare. “You know it’s Dirk Nichols, right? That guy hasn’t liked you since he was a patrol officer.”
“You mean Dick Knuckles,” I said with a groan. “Not that guy. You blow up one tiny little outhouse at a homecoming game….” I groaned at the horrifying memory. “What happened to Chief Tibbs?”
“He retired,” Lily said. “And you made a hell-of-a-mess of the football field, and Nichols got put on clean-up duty to clean up the, well, doody.”
I tried not to laugh. The incident had started a two-year string of traffic stops and parking tickets, all courtesy of Officer Dick.
Lily looped her arm in mine and steered me toward the house. “Since Nichols is a warlock, he has a long memory. He won’t have forgotten you.”
“That’s probably true.” Witches and warlocks didn’t have perfect recall, but it was pretty darn close, which is why I hated my childhood—too many vivid details I’d like to forget. I envied the humans who could rewrite history with their memories.
I yanked my bags out of the back of my vehicle, and Lily grabbed one, and I took the other. We rolled them up the driveway toward her house. “Nichols, huh? Well, that sucks.” I hated the idea of having Nichols hold the crap-tastrophe of my most embarrassing night over my head. “In my defense, I was trying to cast a scent-hiding spell.”
Like I said earlier, I’m not great with magic. Often times the simplest spells blew up in my face or, in this instance, the spell blew up on my butt.
It had been one of the few times that I’d chanced a teleport home. I’d actually made it pretty close to the target. I’d landed in a tree in our backyard. I looked and smelled like I’d been wading in a sewer. Gross.
My dad had laughed about the incident, but my mother—an ache pinched my stomach as I thought of her—she’d been so angry with me when Charlie Tibbs, the police chief at the time, knocked on our front door.
I shook my head at the painful memory before turning my attention back to Lily. “Besides, shifters have delicate noses,” I said in my defense. “And I didn’t want everyone to know I had to poop.”
“You mean you didn’t want one certain shifter to know.” She giggled when I gave her a scathing glance. “You know they make something called Poo-Pourri.”
“Sure, now.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Let’s get my bags inside and have some coffee so we can really talk. Oh, and I also have an appointment with Adele Adams and the Witch-Shifter Coalition Council tomorrow afternoon.
She chewed her lower lip and tugged on a lock of her hair. “About that—”
Before she could finish, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the quiet street. Lily’s face blanched, and sparks tickled from my fingertips.
“That’s Joy Decker,” Lily declared.
“Stay here,” I instructed her as I drew my weapon and headed toward the scream.
John Decker, Lily’s wereraccoon neighbor, ran out of his house, his wife Joy, dressed in a house gown, hot on his trail.
“Help!” he hollered. “It’s Boyd. It’s awful.”
Joy was sobbing so hard she began to puke. “That’s not my child,” she heaved. “Not my Boyd. It can’t be.”
“Is there someone else in the house?” I asked John.
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
I looked at Lily. “Call the police.”
She nodded and took out her phone.
With practiced caution, I made my way up the Deckers’ porch steps, through the front door with my weapon ready, and into their small home.