She looked at me at that last word to see if she said it right. I nodded.
“Why is it going to stay?” he asked, total y nonchalant.
“We did the ritual. The candles went out on their own, we didn’t touch them. all you have to do now is bury them in the back yard.”
When I relayed the events to my parents, I conveniently left out the part about burying the Witch Bottle. Oh, and seeing a monster in the house. It was pointless to mention them, real y, and I didn’t want my dad digging it up, because he would have on account of it being all “black majick” and stuff.
“Or the front yard, real y,” he continued. “I’l make sure to empty the vacuum bag right away. The ritual wil stil hold.”
“How do we know that?” I asked. “You saw the photo.
The fireplace. That was after everything was said and done.”
“It’s not buried yet. Then it’s said and done. And then, well darlin’, you know the dril all too well by now. We just wait and see.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next morning I wanted nothing more to just sleep and sleep. Sleep for the next day, the week, the next year. After we had buried the candles (in the front yard now, away from my parents’ prying eyes since their bedroom looked onto the back), I helped Maximus in vacuuming up the smel y, powdery mess we created. Unfortunately, this meant having to go into my parents’ room while they were getting ready for bed but at least it was taken care of before my mother had a conniption.
When we said our goodbyes, somewhere just before midnight, he had gone in for a kiss. But I just couldn’t return it. His actions had rankled me, and even though he said he was doing it all for me, something just wasn’t sitting right.
Maybe it had something to do with what Ada had said, about how she couldn’t trust him. Whatever it was, it had me on edge and I was definitely in no mood to be amorous with him, even though there was something extremely sexy about the dominating and fierce edge I had seen during the rituals.
But that was just my lady parts talking. My head and gut told me to abruptly look away and say, “I’l talk to you soon.
Thanks for your help,” and shut the door. Perhaps I should have been a bit more grateful to him.
Needless to say, I was exhausted when 10 a.m. rolled around and I was rudely awakened by my phone.
I pried open one eye and was met with a grey, overcast gloom that appeared to seep in through the windows and settle in my room. I rolled over and grabbed the phone, eyeing the screen with my blurry vision.
Shit. It was Shay.
I cleared my throat and quickly answered it. “Hel o?”
“Perry,” she said in an oddly professional voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Um,” I rolled over onto my back and scrunched up my forehead with my hand. How to answer that? “I’ve been better but I’m doing OK.”
“Oh that’s great to hear,” she said, as if I had just told her I was feeling like a mil ion bucks. “Listen, would you mind popping by today?”
“To Port-Town?”
“Yes. This isn’t a shift. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Uh oh. I was suddenly overcome by a wave of nausea, fol owed by a stab of hol owness in my chest.
“Oh…OK.”
“Don’t worry,” she said but then didn’t elaborate. “Just come by before three.”
“I wil . See you then,” I said blankly and stared down at the phone as I heard her hang up. I gradual y pushed the button to end the cal and placed the phone beside me.
I’d been down this path before. I knew what was up. It didn’t matter that she told me not to worry. I knew what was coming.
Though, perhaps I was always too eager to jump to the worst case scenario. Shay just wanted to see me. She wanted to know if I was feeling better. Shay was a nice woman; she was almost a friend. She liked me, didn’t she?
She wouldn’t fire someone just because someone was sick. I mean, that was il egal, wasn’t it?
I let out a huge intake of air. She probably just wanted to see me in person and work out some sort of schedule, instead of doing it over the phone. Shay was personable like that.
I took in another breath and then got up to start the day.
I was a flaming pile of nerves when I parked Put-Put outside the store and walked in through the glass doors. Even though it was the busy lunch-hour rush, I stil felt like everyone was staring at me, whispering to each other “hey it’s that girl who went postal.” Of course, no one noticed me and I didn’t see any of the regulars who would have thought such a thing. Being in regular clothes and not a uniform helped.
But there was no hiding from Ash or Juan, a student from Columbia with whom I’d worked only a few times. I gave them both a small smile as I awkwardly made my way behind the counter. They were busy trying to handle the customers so they couldn’t real y talk to me but I preferred it that way. The less that was said, the better.
I observed Ash’s face. It was warm and casual, like it usual y was, but there was something different about the way he was looking at me. He looked at me like I was about to lose my nut again, watched me like a caged monkey in a zoo. My mother had watched me like that earlier as I made myself runny oatmeal. I should have figured Ash would change once he saw the “real” me. He hadn’t once cal ed or texted me to see if I was doing OK.
It stung but I tried to shrug it off and made my way to the back door, eyeing the bathroom as I went past, my nostrils flaring at the smel that was stil present, that now evil and foreboding scent of death.
I heard Shay’s muffled voice say “Come in” after I knocked, and I opened the door with anxious hands and stepped into the room.