Spirits and Sourdough, page 2
“Will do!” She smiled and turned away.
As they continued toward the door, I heard Jo say, “Well, Calista lost a father, too.”
They exited the bakery, and I turned toward Lucy. “Did you see?”
Gravely, she nodded. “Your totem. All over her scarf. But dragonflies are everywhere, you know. It could be a coincidence.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said lightly.
Nevertheless, something in me knew better. One of the things I’d learned in my brief journey as a witch was that dragonflies often served as a kind of metaphysical tap on the shoulder. When that happened, it felt different than when the iridescent lovelies simply zinged around my backyard hunting Savannah’s ubiquitous mosquitoes.
And it felt different now.
The front door opened, and a muscular man with dark wavy hair and a deliciously strong jaw came in. His ice blue eyes met mine across the room, and I felt my heart give an extra pitty-pat. I wasn’t sure how long that sort of reaction was supposed to last, but seeing my new husband still gave me a thrill every time.
Declan wove through the tables, and we met in front of the coffee counter. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me so I was standing on tiptoe, and then planted a kiss on the side of my mouth.
“Hey, you two. Get a room,” Ben growled.
Declan laughed and relaxed his embrace.
Slightly flushed, I protested. “It was just a kiss.”
But my uncle was already grinning. Declan McCarthy had been Ben’s protégé in the fire department for years before Ben had retired. Now he was a firefighter working out of Five House and would soon begin paramedic training. Declan’s father had died when he was young, and Ben and Aunt Lucy had no children. Ben and Declan were very close, and I knew Ben was over the moon that we’d tied the knot. Now one of his favorite people was officially part of our family.
“You ready to go?” Declan asked my uncle.
“Almost,” he said. “Just let me put these in the dishwasher.” He grabbed a couple of dirty mugs and went into the kitchen.
“You sure you don’t want to come on the ghost tour with us?” I asked Declan.
“No way.”
“It might be romantic.” I drew the last word out, teasing.
“Boring is what it would be,” he said. “I grew up here. There’s not a haunted house or gruesome ghost story about Savannah I don’t already know.” His eyes flashed as he looked at me, and he gave me a little squeeze with the arm still draped around my shoulders. “Now, if it were just you and me, and I was giving the tour, well . . . that might be a different story.”
“I’d like that.” I waggled my eyebrows and slipped out from under his arm. “But not tonight. Jaida already has my ticket, and Lucy’s coming, too.” Jaida French was my mentor in all things tarot.
“I was surprised by that,” Ben said, returning from the kitchen. “But it turns out she’s never taken a Savannah ghost tour. Plus: free tickets. Hard to beat that.” He came around the counter and said to Declan, “Let’s swing by Sandfly BBQ and pick up some ribs and brisket.”
“Do not get barbeque sauce on the new sofa,” I warned. They were taking advantage of Lucy’s and my absence to hang out at the carriage house, eat manly food, and watch the Falcons play the Vikings on Monday Night Football.
“I could do with some of their mac and cheese, too. Maybe some fried okra,” Declan said, ignoring me. “Where’s Mungo?”
Hearing his name, my familiar trotted out from the reading area. He carried something gingerly in his mouth. After dropping it at my feet, he sat back and grinned up at me with unmistakable doggy pride. I bent to pick it up. It appeared to be a bookmark, but not like anything I’d seen before. The metal clip was long and thin, and carved with intricate swirling designs. At the top, the metal expanded into a narrow circle embedded with red jewels. Inside the circle, a tiny sailing ship was etched onto a flat, cream-colored stone.
“Huh,” I said, turning it over in my hand. “This looks expensive.”
Ben peered over my shoulder. “And old. That’s scrimshaw on ivory.”
So it wasn’t stone. I shuddered as I thought of the poor animal that had sacrificed for this trinket back in the day.
“One of the book club members must have dropped it.” I went around the counter and tucked it into the drawer below the register. “I’m sure they’ll be back for it.”
Lucy came out of the office with Honeybee’s designer leather cat tote. Her familiar delicately stepped inside at my aunt’s request, and she handed the carrier to Ben. I moved back automatically. I regularly brewed a potion to combat my allergy to cats, a potion powerful enough that Honeybee could hang out at the bakery, but I still couldn’t get too close to her.
Declan bent over, picked up Mungo, and tucked him into the crook of his arm. “Come on, big guy. I’ll take you home. You can hang out with Honeybee while your, er, owners, are out on the town.”
I smiled to myself. Declan still shied away from the term “witch,” which was kind of funny given his own complicated connection to the paranormal.
“I’ll even give you some brisket for supper,” he said.
Yip!
I rolled my eyes. “Not too much. You spoil him more than I do.”
Grinning, Declan leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “I spoil you, too.”
“Yeah . . .”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said over his shoulder as he and Ben left.
“You mean like go on a ghost tour with a bunch of my friends?” I called, but the door had already closed behind them.
Chapter 2
Before we left the bakery, Lucy had changed into funky Thai fisherman pants and a wrap-front blouse. My perfectly coiffed Midwestern mother called her sister airy-fairy, usually followed by an eye roll. Lucy did have an aging hippie vibe, but she pulled it off with casual elegance. I’d exchanged my bakery uniform of T-shirt and skort for a pair of white capris and a Breton-striped top. We were the first of our group to arrive at the Cotton Exchange Tavern on River Street. I’d never eaten there, but Jaida, who could be a bit of a food snob, swore they had delicious seafood and the best Reuben sandwich in town.
Passing beneath the green-and-white-striped awning, we entered and paused to let our eyes adjust to the relative darkness. As they did, I took in the rock and brick walls offset with plenty of wood paneling. The air was cool and redolent of garlic and grilling meat, and I suddenly realized I was starving. My aunt and I settled across from each other at a table by a window that overlooked the Savannah River. Soon a waiter had taken our orders for tall glasses of sweet tea and a pile of peel-and-eat shrimp for the table.
Two members of the spellbook club had declined Jaida’s invitation to take the ghost tour, so there would only be Lucy, Jaida, Bianca Devereaux and her young daughter, and me. Missing would be Mimsey Carmichael, who had already scheduled a date night with her husband, and Cookie Rios, who had a new baby.
Jaida arrived, striding into the room and spying us immediately. She threaded her way through the tables to join us. She’d changed from her workaday going-to-court attire into denim shorts and a lime green dirty dozen brass band T-shirt that popped against her rich brown skin. Her square-framed glasses provided an air of wisdom despite her casual dress.
I rose to give her a hug, inhaling the faint scent of cinnamon that always seemed to accompany her. Since the magical properties of cinnamon were many, including protection, love, and healing, it was a fitting aura to surround one of Savannah’s best defense attorneys and a witch who specialized in tarot.
“Whew!” she said, sinking into her seat. “I almost didn’t make it. Anubis was very insistent that he wanted to come along.”
Anubis was her familiar, a brindle Great Dane as big as a pony. When he got insistent it was no joke.
I raised my eyebrows. “How’d you convince him?”
“Two slices of turkey bacon.” She reached for the menu the waiter had left. “And a promise he could watch The Princess Bride while I was gone.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Yeah. That works on Mungo, too. Except soap operas are his thing.”
Lucy, whose feline familiar was far more dignified than either Jaida’s canine or mine, rolled her eyes.
Next, Bianca Devereaux and her daughter Colette entered the restaurant. I raised my hand, and they made their way to the table. Colette was nine years old and becoming more like her mother with every passing month. Bianca was the member of the spellbook club who looked the most like an old-school Hollywood-style witch. Even after a long, hot summer, her complexion was so pale it was nearly translucent, and her long dark hair was held off her neck with a silver, sapphire-encrusted hair claw that probably cost more than I made in a month. Her daughter’s hair, a shade lighter, was in two braids like a pioneer girl from the past might have worn. They both wore bright cotton sundresses, Bianca’s blue and Colette’s a light coral.
Bianca had been a single mom ever since her jerk of an ex-husband discovered her burgeoning interest in Wicca and moon magic, and left her and his daughter. It turned out Bianca was pretty darn good at magic—and numbers—especially when it came to the stock market. She’d made a small fortune in the years since her ex had skedaddled, and now owned a boutique wine store on Factors Walk called Moon Grapes.
Lucy rose to embrace our friend, who then sat down on my aunt’s side of the table with her daughter next to her.
“Hi!” Colette said.
“Hi yourself, pipsqueak,” Jaida said with a grin.
Colette wrinkled her nose at her.
“And hello, Puck,” I said to the tiny pink snout barely visible at the top of Bianca’s Hermès bag.
Colette’s eyes grew wide, and she looked apprehensively around the room. “Shhh! It’s a secret, and Mom could get in trouble if they find out he’s in her purse.”
Puck, a smooth white ferret with black markings like a Zorro mask around his eyes, was Bianca’s familiar. He’d found her relatively recently, and she hated to be separated from him. Luckily, he was no Anubis, and could fit in her pocket if need be.
Bianca smiled and reached over to fix a strand of her daughter’s hair that had escaped its braid. “Don’t worry. They know it’s a secret.”
After a pause, the girl nodded gravely. “Yes, I suppose they do.”
The waiter brought our shrimp appetizer and took our orders. When he was gone, I asked Colette, “Are you excited about the ghost tour?”
She grinned and nodded. “Uh-huh. Maybe I’ll even get to see one! It’s so close to Halloween, the spirits must be out and about more than usual, don’t you think?”
The adults exchanged a quick glance, and her mother changed the subject. Colette might be closer to the mark than she realized.
Bringing Colette along was the only reason Bianca had agreed to come at all. Like Declan, our coven mate was a native of Savannah and thought she knew as much as she needed to about the city’s haunted history. However, her daughter had lobbied to come, and while Bianca didn’t really spoil her, there was no reason to say no. The tour operator had given Jaida the free tickets as a thank-you. I wasn’t sure why, so I asked after our supper was delivered to the table.
“How do you know the young woman who’ll be giving our tour?”
Jaida swallowed a bite of her fried green tomato BLT and sat back. “Teddy is Gregory’s goshdaughter.” Gregory was Jaida’s partner in love as well as in their small law firm. “Her father’s one of his best friends from school. He’s not particularly religious, but he and his wife still wanted Gregory to be part of their daughter’s life, so: goshdaughter.” She licked her lips and took a sip of craft beer. “Teddy’s . . . special.”
The way she said it made me tip my head to the side. Special? That was like being interesting; it could be good or bad. However, Bianca changed the subject, so I let it go.
* * *
* * *
After a leisurely supper, we strolled along River Street, past the African American Families Monument, and climbed the stairs to Factors Walk. On Bay Street, lots of locals enjoyed the warm air and setting sun, along with the shorts-clad tourists taking advantage of Savannah’s ordinance that allowed alcohol to be consumed on the street. As we made our way to the spot where we were to meet Gregory’s goshdaughter, we saw a particularly loud cluster of people with the lilt of the upper Midwest in their conversation. A dark green hearse pulled to the curb beside them. I could see the extra seats inside, and the top had been cut off so people could stand and look out at the different haunted sites the tour operator would point out.
Another hearse passed by and then a small, open-sided bus boasting the logo of a haunted pub tour. Savannah offered a variety of ghost tours, along with history tours, architectural tours, cemetery tours, and the ever-present open-bus tours that took visitors all over the city. Unlike many of them, ours was to be a walking version. I hoped the other participants would be less boisterous than the bunch we’d just passed.
“How many other people will be in our group?” I asked Jaida.
She shrugged. “No idea.”
Looking over, I considered my friend. Usually vivacious and occasionally acerbic, Jaida was quiet this evening. Her eyes held what I could only interpret as worry.
“Teddy doesn’t work for one of the big tour companies,” she said. “She has her own operation, which is why she could give me free tickets. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to do something to pay me back for some minor legal work I did when someone sued her.”
“Uh-oh,” I said. “I take it things worked out for the best . . . ?”
Jaida sighed. “People will sue about anything anymore. The plaintiff took a ghost tour and became frightened. Very frightened.” She glanced at Colette, who was listening avidly. “There was no physical injury and no lasting emotional effects that could be proven, so I managed to get it thrown out.”
“Wow!” Colette said. “This is going to be better than I thought!”
“Hmm. I think you’ll be fine, pipsqueak, though I understand Teddy’s tours can be a little different than the others.”
I knew Jaida would never permit Colette to be placed in danger. “You haven’t gone on one before?” I asked.
She shook her head. “But after the court case, I suggested Teddy have her clients sign waivers.”
I felt a flash of apprehension. “Do you think we’ll run into any actual, you know, ghosts?”
Turning her head, Jaida’s gaze snagged mine, then flickered down to Colette, who was still watching her. Lucy and Bianca were walking behind us, talking about the book our spellbook club planned to discuss at our next meeting.
“You never can tell, right?” Jaida’s tone was light, but her expression wasn’t.
That told me she didn’t want to frighten Colette. This whole time I’d thought the ghost tours were bunk, but now I wondered. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and all that. Of course, there was no question that souls from the other side of the veil occasionally crossed over to our side. My own nonna had visited me several times when I’d needed her help. Not only that, but a séance had inadvertently revealed the guardian spirit who had attached himself to Declan, allowing him to actually inhabit my husband’s physical being on occasion.
Did I mention Declan had his own connection to the paranormal?
I winced inwardly. It seemed like a long time since that had happened. Even though I hadn’t liked it at the time, in a way I missed the comforting presence of his guardian. The spirit, a leprechaun named Connell who was somehow caught between the mortal and immortal planes, had sacrificed himself to save me a few months before and was now wandering, lost, someplace in the ether. I’d had contact with him while in a dream state, and Nonna had promised to try to help us find him, but I still hadn’t discovered exactly how to get him back. The spellbook club had tried to help at first, but they’d soon run out of ideas, too.
However, I was determined to try to bring Connell back on Samhain, to somehow take advantage of the thin veil between this world and the next during the height of the sabbat, but I still had to figure out a few details. I’d spent many late nights searching and researching, looking for solutions, my heart hurting for the man I loved. Not only did Declan feel like a piece of himself was missing, a horrible emptiness I could relate to since I’d lost my own magic for a time, but a man who was a first responder simply couldn’t be without his guardian spirit. I tried not to bring it up, but it worried me no end. There had already been a few incidents I felt sure Connell would have steered Declan clear of if he’d been able. So far, my husband had been lucky. I wasn’t about to trust to luck forever, though. Not when it came to his safety.
I realized Jaida had been watching me. Smiling weakly, I said, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens tonight.”
Bianca came up behind us and pointed at the small group gathered on the corner of Whitaker and Bay. “That’s where we’re supposed to meet, isn’t it?”
Jaida nodded. “And there’s Teddy.” She lifted her hand in greeting, and a tall young woman responded in kind.
We crossed the street and joined them. There were five others in the group besides us. They introduced themselves.
“I’m Tom,” said a short man with a jovial smile, bright blue eyes, and a fringe of dark hair that ran around the back of his otherwise bald head. “And this is my bride, Bridie. Get it?”
I managed not to roll my eyes, but his wife did it for me. “Never mind. Some of his jokes are just for him.” The same height as her husband, with a round face and a peaches-and-cream complexion under graying blond hair, she’d no doubt been keeping Tom in line for years. “Though if he doesn’t stop with that one, I might have to change my name.”
