Confessions of a Teenage Slayer (Sister Witchcraft Book 2) Page 5

  “Well, they’re not. Let’s move on.”

  We started toward the parking lot. “You want to come back to the office with me,” he asked, “and go through some newspaper archives from fifteen years ago?”

  “What for?”

  “I’ve got a theory. I’ve been hearing some wild stories from people who knew Richie in the old days. I want to check a few things out.”

  Sounded interesting. In fact, it sounded like just the information I wanted to know. But I didn’t have the time. “Maybe later. Right now I’ve got to get home to help Sybil with dinner. Gary is bringing home a client.” I frowned and muttered, almost to myself, “I just hope she’s nicer to this guest than she was to Lucy’s friend last night.”

  He stopped and looked down at me thoughtfully. “You said that Sybil knew Richie. Have you asked her about it? Does she have any idea why someone might have wanted to kill him?”

  “I’ve tried to talk to her. She won’t talk about it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Maybe if I approached her…”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll keep after her. I’ll find out if she knows anything, tonight for sure.”

  Little did I know how prophetic those words would turn out to be.

  At first glance, everything seemed normal enough. Gary often brought clients home to have dinner with his family. His law office was doing well and his specialty of consulting on investment properties meant that prospective clients usually came from out of town and stayed at one of the local motels. If they were lucky, they got invited to dinner. Sybil was a great cook.

  She was also a gracious hostess and a friendly advisor who took pride in creating a welcoming atmosphere and a beautifully decorated home. She considered all that as part of her job as partner to her husband. His success was partly made possible by her and she knew it. She helped make his business thrive.

  Anyone coming in out of the cold would have thought that was exactly what was going on at the Tanner house that night. What I came home to was a warm and inviting setting, a handsome couple entertaining a guest in their living room, all graciousness and good feeling. The scents from the kitchen were delicious, promising a wonderful meal to come. The soft music playing on the sound system made an interesting background to the chatter. All was well.

  In fact, even better than “well”. To my surprise, Brett Kaden--the client who was consulting with Gary on legalities concerning some sort of development on the outskirts of town, was excessively handsome, even movie star quality. His face was extraordinary, his shoulders were even more so, and his smile pleasantly admiring and almost toe-curling. But the most stunning element were those gorgeous blue eyes that shone like gems and drew you in no matter how resistant you were to being won over.

  And he won me at, “How nice to meet you, Mimi.”

  I simpered and giggled like a fool, of course, my voice a little too high, my mind sizzling in confusion with the effects of raw attraction, but I’m sure he was used to that. Still, I forgot all about being worried about my sister. I stayed in the living room, sitting next to him on the love seat, making conversation, having a lovely time. Everything seemed normal. I actually began to think that maybe Sybil was over her strangeness. Gary poured drinks and Sibyl brought out appetizers and it should have been the beginning of a wonderful evening for us all.

  Hah. We should be so lucky. But that came later.

  Meanwhile, I was chatting away with Brett.

  “You’re going to be happy you came,” I told him at one point, semi-flirting. “Sybil is the best cook in town. Bar none.”

  He suddenly looked stricken. “Uh, maybe I should have warned you all. I’ve got a few allergies. And they’re humdingers. Knock me for a loop every time.”

  “Cat hair?” I asked, thinking about Kashmir and hoping for a negative.

  “No, nothing against cat hair,” he said. “Mostly food related. Some fruits. Shellfish and certain types of ocean fish.”

  “No worries,” I said with relief. “It’s lasagna tonight. Nothing nautical about it.”

  “Great.”

  I must have been heavily involved in talking because I didn’t see Sybil slip away. I didn’t notice at all until I caught sight of her gesturing for me to join her from around the breakfast bar. I excused myself and went into the kitchen.

  “Can you squeeze the juice out of these two lemons?” she asked me, whispering in a funny way. “I’ve got to take these fresh sausage rolls out and I need a little room to maneuver in.”

  That didn’t make any sense to me at all but I willingly took up the lemons and began to squeeze them into a ceramic bowl that she’d set out, fishing back the many seeds the fruit produced. She headed for the living room with the sausage rolls—an appetizer, I must tell you, that sends some people into convulsions of ecstasy. My sister can cook.

  I happened to glance out at the living room at one point, and that was when I noticed Sybil doing something…well, very bad. Very bad indeed. She’d sidled up to the chair where Brett had tossed his suit coat when he’d taken it off to get comfortable, glanced over at the two men to make sure they were deeply involved in conversation—and then I distinctly saw her hand slip into the breast pocket and extract his wallet. Moving fast, she made her way back to the kitchen and I was waiting, gaping at her with my mouth hanging open.

  “Don’t stand there looking like a doofus,” she snapped at me in a hiss. “I’m not going to take his money.”

  No, it wasn’t his money she wanted. It was his soul.

  “Just hold on,” she said impatiently.

  While I watched, she dialed an address on her cell phone and began to recite numbers—his credit card, his driver’s license, his Malibu club card. She waited for an answer from the anonymous place she’d called.

  “What?” she said at last. “Nothing?”

  The voice on the other end squawked like the Charlie Brown parent voice on the TV show and she hung up, looking disgusted.

  “Incompetents,” she muttered.

  “Sybil, what on earth are you doing?” I demanded, but before she could answer a horn honked out front.

  She looked away, distracted. “Mary Bottoms,” she said. “She’s come to pick the girls up for an overnight with her two. Can you….?”

  She looked at me beseechingly. “Can you round them up and get them out there to the car? I have another service I can call about the numbers.”

  I was of two minds. My first instinct was to say, “No! I have to stay right here and see why my sister is going crazy.” But instead I found myself saying, “Okay, okay. I’ll get them out there.” And then I headed for the stairs.

  They were really good girls and they were ready to go. I escorted them out through the living room. We entered smiling and I was desperately trying to make it seem like everything was okay. The girls had their little backpacks on their backs, looking like sweet little hikers. The two cutest girls anywhere, if I did say so myself. They very prettily said goodbye to Mr. Kaden and kissed their father, then headed outside to meet with Mary Bottoms.

  I got things settled with her, then raced back into the kitchen to see what Sybil was doing now. Sure enough, she was up to no good. Somehow she’d found a way to make a peephole through her cupboards into the living room and she was employing it now, spying on the two men.

  “Sybil, you have to tell me what you’re doing!” I was about to tear my hair out.

  She glanced at me as though I were a stranger. “You never know, do you?” she muttered, more to herself than to me.

  “Sybil!”

  She turned away from the peephole and took my hands in hers, looking earnestly into my face. “Mimi, it’s about time you understood what’s really going on.”

  “Okay.” I said, ready to take it on the chin. I stared into her eyes a bit wildly. “Lay it on me.”

  She looked me in all seriousness and said, “Demons.”

  I frowned. “Uh…what demons?”

  “This town has demons
. They can look like normal people, but underneath…all demon.”

  I blinked. “Okay. But how do you know who is a demon and who isn’t?” I was a little breathless. Wouldn’t you have been?

  She shrugged. “I can tell the difference,” she said, with all the confidence in the world. “Leave it to me.”

  Demons. That didn’t make any sense. It was a bit like saying, “Leprechauns have invaded my sock drawer.” What are you going to do with information like that?

  “Gary doesn’t know a thing,” she said emphatically to me.

  I frowned. Did she think I was simple minded? “Of course Gary doesn’t know a thing,” I said. “I know that.” That was the entire design of their marriage from what I’d seen.

  “I’ve got to get him out of here so that I can take care of things.”

  That sent a chill down my spine. “Take care of things? What things?”

  “The demon, of course.”

  “Wha…wha…what demon?”

  She nodded toward her living room. “That one.”

  I could hardly breathe. She was saying Brett Kaden was a demon. What?!

  “Sybil,” I gasped. “Why do you have to do this?”

  She rolled her eyes, but before she could explain to me just how obtuse I was being, Gary came into the kitchen through the swinging door.

  “Hi hon,” he said to his beloved wife. “Is everything all right?”

  She swallowed hard, then managed a tiny smile. “Uh…”

  It would have been obvious to anyone else that she was thinking fast and thinking hard and about to tell a great big lie. But did Gary get it? Not at all. He was a lawyer and he looked like one. But sometimes I wondered why, when it came to his pretty wife, he didn’t manage to think like one. He was out to lunch at all times.

  “Well, actually, darling, I’ve got a problem.” She did the big sad eyes thing at him and he melted immediately.

  “Hey sweetheart, what can I do to help?”

  “Well, you know, I planned to make a nice big green salad to go with the lasagna. But I forgot to pick up a couple of nice juicy red tomatoes.”

  “Tomatoes?” He looked at her blankly.

  “Tomatoes.”

  He frowned. “Can’t you have a salad without tomatoes?”

  “Oh no. This salad has to have tomatoes.”

  “And you want me to run over to the store and get you some?”

  She nodded, hopeful as a cat watching a fish bowl.

  “Oh.” He glanced at me. “Well, can’t Mimi go to get the tomatoes?”

  I turned to look at her, wondering how she was going to get out of this one.

  Her gaze flickered my way, then back to smile sweetly into his eyes. “Uh…no, unfortunately, she’s not feeling so well.”

  “Oh?” He looked at me again, this time as though I’d somehow let him down.

  “Yes, she’s a little dizzy. Can’t drive.”

  “Oh.” His look turned to one of concern, making me feel oh so guilty! “What’s wrong, Mimi?”

  “Uh, nothing,” I said. “Just a little dizzy. That’s all.”

  “Oh Gary, please just go get me some tomatoes,” Sybil said, almost pleading.

  Gary turned to go, then stopped, looking down at the counter. “Honey, look. Here are some tomatoes right in your fruit bowl. Did you miss these?”

  The moment sizzled hot and wide, and we both stopped breathing. What now? We’d been caught.

  Chapter 7

  It looked like we’d been foiled again. And left to look like fools. But no….Sybil was quick on her feet and she showed it now.

  “Oh, honey, did I say tomatoes? Silly me. I meant an avocado. That’s it. I need an avocado.”

  “Oh.”

  “Please go, sweetheart. Pretty please?” She went close and onto her tiptoes and she gave him a little kiss on his cheek. “I really need it.”

  He was beginning to rebel. “But Sybil, I don’t see why…”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Oh Gary, please don’t. Can’t you understand? I know how important your clients are to you and I want to do my part.” A small sob tore from her throat. “If I can’t…if I can’t…”

  “Oh honey.” He grabbed her into his arms and held her. “Don’t worry. I’ll go. I’ll be right back.”

  She smiled through her tears. “Oh thank you! And don’t worry. We’ll take great care of your client while you’re gone.”

  He sighed. “Okay. Let him know what happened to me, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  And he went. It was reluctantly, but he went. I had to hand it to him. What a good husband. Or a sap.

  And what a poor analyst of his own wife. Wow. Who knew Sybil was such a canny manipulator?

  She waited until he was out of sight, then went into action. “Okay, quick. We don’t have much time.”

  She’d already put on the kettle and it was beginning to whistle. She pulled out some tea bags. “I promised Brett Kaden some special tea. I’ll get it ready now.”

  She brought out tea bags, then a vial of something colored teal and silver, the colors jumping like quicksilver against the glass.

  I looked at it, filled with dread. “What is that? Holy water?” I’d always heard you used holy water to single out demons, but then, I’d always heard a lot of things that had turned out not to be true.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have any holy water handy, so this will have to make do,” she muttered, pouring out the just-boiled water into tea cups, then dropping tea bags in, one by one.

  “What is it?” I asked her, puzzled and still looking at what she had in that vial. “Where did you get it?”

  She looked at me defensively, then waved the little glass bottle under my nose. “Don’t worry. It’s pure. We always used it when we ran out of holy water. It’s actually made of pomegranate nectar and pulverized Sheffter seeds, mixed with….”

  “Sybil! What are you doing?” I was horrified. “That’s Witch’s Brew!”

  She shrugged. “I suppose it’s one of them. Listen Mimi, you don’t fight demons with cupcakes and sugar water.”

  I gave a quick glance through the peephole to see what Brett was doing now. “He doesn’t look like a demon to me.” In fact, he looked like a man beginning to lose patience with being left alone in an empty living room.

  Sybil nodded knowingly. “You see, you don’t know. You’ve never fought demons.”

  “Oh, and you have?”

  She looked at me pityingly. “Mimi, the explanations will come soon enough. Believe me, I know demons.” She looked down at the drink she was stirring. “But you have to help me with this, I am so out of practice.”

  Out of practice? Practice at what? I was out to sea in a row boat and didn’t know how to get back to shore. What was my sister talking about?

  “Come on,” she said, slipping the teacups onto a tray. “Let’s go. You back me up.”

  At what? Who knew? But I followed, bringing the cream and sugar and smiling at the man rather tremulously. I wasn’t at all sure what Sybil was planning to do to him. The one thing that came to mind couldn’t be true. Could it?

  “Here you are,” she was saying to Brett. “I’d like you to try this flavor. It’s my own concoction.”

  “I’d love to,” he said, accepting the teacup with a smile.

  I looked behind Sybil, wondering what had happened to her little glass vial. Shouldn’t she be throwing the substance on him at any moment, just to see if it would sizzle? Sizzle meant demon. At least I knew that much.

  And if he did sizzle, then what? I prayed silently that it wouldn’t happen, that Sybil was wrong.

  They were chatting, saying nice, inconsequential things to one another, and suddenly I realized: she didn’t have the vial with her because she wasn’t going to throw it at him. It was already in the tea. He was drinking it.

  “No!” I cried out, lurching to try to bat down the teacup he was holding, but it was too late. He’d already dropped it. He was folding
over, clutching his stomach, coughing.

  “I can’t breathe,” he choked out.

  “Sybil! What have you done?” I reached out to him, trying to put him flat on the carpeted ground so that I could begin artificial respiration—or at least, something that seemed a little like it.

  But she wasn’t filled with remorse. “You see?” she said coolly. “I told you he was a demon.”

  “He’s choking!”

  “He’s a demon. Come on, help me drag him to the shed. We have to work fast. Gary will be home any minute.”

  “But Sybil….”

  She stared at me, impatient. “I can’t let Gary see this.”

  I stared at her, horrified. She was like a stranger, someone I’d never really known. She’d just coolly poisoned a guest and now she thought she was going to hide this from her husband, who was off hunting down avocados?

  “Well, that I can understand,” I hissed at her. “He’ll have you locked up in the looney bin.”

  “Oh yeah? At least I’ll still be alive.” She glared at me. “Richie isn’t, is he?”

  “What…what…” I was at a loss for words. “Richie?”

  “He called me the other day. He warned me. He said they were after us again. I laughed at him. I said he was paranoid. But no. The next thing I know, there he is, laid out on a cold slab in the Shady Tree Café.”

  “But…Sybil, why would demons be after you?”

  She pointed at Brett. “You see that? One taste of my Witches Brew Pomegranate tea and he keeled over. Mimi, you know if he was human, he wouldn’t have collapsed that way. Only demons react to the brew. He’s getting what he deserves. Come on. Help me.”

  I was in a confused daze, but I helped her. We carried the man out through the kitchen, through the back door and into the shed behind the house. We dropped him to the floor. The light was dim. Gardening tools and supplies lay all around, but there was room for his tall frame. I stared down at him, feeling sick.

  “Sybil,” I began, sounding like the voice of doom. “Sybil, this isn’t right.”

  She stuck her head out and looked toward the driveway for a sign that Gary might be back. “How’s he doing?” she whispered back toward me.