Deceptive Dime Store Demons, page 3
Chapter 3
During the somber drive to the cottage I shared with my mate, a dark cowl blanketed the vehicle. My stomach clenched tighter as my quaint home grew larger in the view. What should’ve been my sanctuary with my husband loomed between the protective groves of thick pine and elm trees.
Even the beds of golden sunflowers and fragrant chrysanthemums I planted in the front yard drooped over from the Jersey heat. Usually, I watered them when I got home from The Bends, but today my new work schedule had shoved my routine into the disorganization bin.
I glanced at Thorn in the driver’s seat as he parked next to the cottage. His usual happy-go-lucky expression had vanished. He grasped my left hand and squeezed it gently. I waited for him to let me go, but he held on for two or three breaths as Will and Farley got out of the back. Farley was empty-handed, while Will held a covered plastic tub with what little they had salvaged before the fire grew too large.
Farley limped up to the house. I watched his retreating back, wondering how his old knee injury fared. Many years ago, back when Farley was pack leader, a rival had challenged the miserable man to become alpha over the South Toms River Pack and nearly won. Farley’s knee injury hadn’t healed well, and after that, old age had caught up with him.
Even with a limp, Farley didn’t wait for us, so I hurried after them. How I wished I had a spell to teleport them to the local Holiday Inn, but even I knew that wouldn’t solve the underlying problem. Their home had burned to the ground, and a week with a free continental breakfast wouldn’t bring them a new home any sooner.
Nor would it help their meager bank account.
Working class men like the Granthams didn’t have a hoard of cash. After Thorn graduated from college, he ended up working in the business office at the local mill. I had yet to see Farley work a day in my life. And right after Will left high school, he attended community college for a while, but eventually he jumped from one menial job to another.
Briefly, I considered the house I used to live in, standing empty on the other side of town. I still stored a couple of boxes there too. The very idea of having a man like him soil my sanctuary soured my stomach, but it might be the only solution in the long run.
But would Farley even want to be in my debt? Especially after he walked into the cottage.
Farley took his time after Thorn opened the door. I bit my lower lip as anxiety crept up my spine and sank its teeth into the nape of my neck. I hesitated to follow, lingering on the front porch to avoid seeing Farley’s reaction. Thorn’s younger brother had seen my hidden shame many times before. Will walked into the living room and slumped onto the couch, not once taking note of the plastic tubs containing my hoard of holiday cheer. Usually when I returned home, these things—the holiday sweaters, sparkly tree ornaments, and plastic-wrapped nutcrackers—gave me unadulterated joy. These precious baubles represented memories of a life with a family that gathered and cared for one another.
But as Farley’s stern blue eyes swept over the stacks containing 424 ornaments and doodads, the crushing sensation in my neck deepened enough to take my breath away.
Within my haze, I caught Farley’s dry mumble.
“Where can I sit?” Not once did he look away from my collection.
There were plenty of seats in the living room, from the sofa to the armchair in the corner. The single La-Z-Boy had a set of holiday cookbooks in front of it. Thorn picked up the books and gestured toward the chair.
“Sit there, Dad.” Thorn disappeared into the kitchen. He didn’t have to tell me where he’d put the cookbooks; I caught his soft footsteps as he stowed them away in our small kitchen pantry.
I had yet to let my little friends into that room out of consideration for Thorn.
I hadn’t realized I stood at the edge of the living room and foyer until Will said, “I feel gross. You want a shower first, Dad?”
I could feel the burn of Grandma Lasovskaya scolding me for not making my guests feel welcome. “What kind of Stravinsky devushka are you?” she’d say. “Didn’t I teach you to be a good girl? When someone—especially your kin—arrives, you must feed them.”
Yes, my mother, who cooked and burned meat like the best of them, would’ve already had lamb or a roast chopped and simmering in the pot.
But my feet remained rooted to the spot while the Grantham men spoke.
“I don’t care.” Farley scratched through his shaggy, blond hair. Bits of dirt rained down on the floor. My heart rate picked up and something inside me, perhaps the rational part, forced me to suck in a deep breath.
Put on your big-girl pastel panties and wake up, Nat.
I knew damn well it would be rude to ask either of them to sit on a blanket. I resigned myself to clean later. Hell, I’d worked all night. Why not spend an hour or two cleaning up my house?
Thorn entered the living room, and I jumped into manager mode. “Why don’t you find them some clothes to wear and work out a schedule for showers while I make some breakfast?”
“A schedule for showers? Really?” With a sigh, Thorn nodded.
I tried to smile. I really did. I suspected my clown-like attempt hadn’t worked when Thorn took my hand again and squeezed. He kissed the top of my head and lingered until my faltering heart skipped a beat.
Hello, Earth, I think I’m back home.
I hurried into the kitchen, shoving away thoughts of who’d sleep where. What little messes they’d leave behind. What objects they’d push here or there.
My therapist Dr. Frank had given me tools over our various therapy sessions for how to cope with anxiety and situations that grew out of my control, but right now I couldn’t set my derailed mind back on track.
I straightened my back and gathered the materials to make southwest egg muffin cups. I even turned on the radio on top of the microwave to the local jazz station. Lining up the seasonings, fresh eggs, onions, chiles, and bell peppers on the counter drew me to a happy place. In that warm pool of relaxation, the anxious human jumped aside while the wolf within did what needed to be done.
Procure food for the pack.
Duke Ellington and his band’s lively songs from his Newport Festival Suite filled the kitchen with piano, drums, and saucy trumpets. The rise and fall of the horn section made my head bob while the shower turned on in the bathroom. What better way to pass the time and forget about your troubles than amid the magic of musical notes? The morning sun rose higher as I mixed the ingredients, but even Duke Ellington’s sway over me waned as anxiousness seeped from my pores.
I startled when Thorn wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed my back against his chest.
“You’re okay,” he whispered. “We’re okay.”
I closed my eyes and tried to let him steady me like he always did. Wouldn’t he need comfort right now too?
Words I wanted to say tasted like cayenne pepper on my tongue. Each one would grow hotter and hotter until I boiled within. I merely nodded instead of saying what I needed to say. What I needed to feel. I didn’t want reminders of how Farley perceived me, but then again, I couldn’t control him.
I could only control myself. And that would have to be enough for now.
With the southwest eggs bubbling in the muffin container in the oven, I tidied the kitchen then escaped to my bedroom. The warmth of the blue walls and the soft cotton comforter on my bed soothed me. If I didn’t have breakfast in the oven, I would’ve burrowed into my blankets and turned myself into a Natalya burrito. Even the daylight peeking behind my curtains wouldn’t keep me from clocking out. My shoulders sagged and the events from last night circled through my head.
The dark flashes of anger from the fairy, who looked like she just got off the plane from a shopping trip to Monte Carlo, wouldn’t have scared most folks. A brisk wind would’ve blown her over, but I’d tangled with fairies before. A year ago, I’d learned my dad had a moon debt—a werewolf’s debt to another werewolf. Circumstances arose where I had to help, and in the process, I’d encountered a family of dangerous spring fairies, in particular, a little girl named Lisbetta. On the outside, she exuded innocence with her angelic face and tiny frame, but that had all been a facade for the predator under the skin. The tiny spring fairy queen had peculiar powers, including a frightening gift of draining the essence from other creatures.
I shuddered and made a mental note: don’t fuck with fairies.
Twenty minutes later, the alarm on my phone dinged. Time to fetch the eggs and get the meal on the table. As much as I tried not to eat outside of the kitchen without protective measures in place to keep everything tidy, I decided to grab a plate and stuff my face in my bedroom. The boys could eat when they felt like it.
Of course, my master plan turned into an epic failure when I walked into the kitchen to find the four-seater table set. All three Grantham men sat there, waiting, as ominous as the Three Fates. While the food had cooked, my handy mate had set the table, added toasted bagels and even cut apples into slices. Damn, he’d even perfectly lined up the forks and spoons under paper napkins.
I edged toward them. Farley chewed on a bagel and didn’t look at me. Will shoveled the eggs into his mouth like he hadn’t seen a meal in years.
“Thanks for the food, Nat,” Will said between bites.
I hammered a smile onto my face. “Glad you like them. A customer of mine shared the recipe a couple years ago.”
“They’re really good,” Thorn added. “I’d like to learn the recipe.”
I settled in the only remaining seat—the one right across from Farley. It’s amazing that four feet from someone could feel like four inches. Almost as if his distant expression was pressed against my chest, weighing heavy and dark.
To release his hold over me, I got up to wash my hands. Not once but twice. An old habit I thought I’d tamed.
When I returned to the table, I sensed Farley’s stern reproach.
Thorn ended the silence. “You both need clothes, right? We can buy some shirts after you work today.”
“Sounds good,” Will replied. “I got called into work, but I’m taking the day off—”
“Again?” Farley snapped. “Why? That’s at least a full day’s wages.” He slowly shook his head. “Young folks these days always needin’ a day off if their feelings are hurt.”
Will stiffened then gulped down the rest of his orange juice.
“He just lost all his belongings, Dad.” Thorn’s deep voice added calm to the room. “Give him a break.”
“The electric company and all them other folks won’t give us a break at the end of the month,” Farley griped.
Will’s jaw twitched with irritation. “What can they do to us? Turn off the water?”
Farley slowly ate an apple slice and avoided the serving of southwest eggs on his plate. “You might have shitty credit, boy, after running off for some woman, but I plan to use mine to get a better place...somehow.”
That word somehow blossomed into a stink. Long ago, the pack had accrued debts. Many of those debts had been paid, but now the Granthams’ only assets lay in their land and their position as the alpha in the South Toms River Pack.
As much as I wanted to chime in, as a member of the pack, it felt like I was intruding on a family affair.
Damn shame I couldn’t contribute since I’d married into that family.
Farley opened his mouth to spew more nonsense about Will calling his boss when a heavy knock hit the front door.
“Who’s that?” Will asked.
“I’ll get it.” I needed the space. By the time I reached the doorway, I could smell our visitors, and my heart lifted when I opened the door to see my mom and Aunt Vera. The Stravinsky women didn’t wait for me to greet them. They kissed my cheek and bounded into the house with a hot Crock-Pot and covered casserole bowl in hand. How they’d prepared them that quickly didn’t matter. The Stravinskys always had spare food.
“I heard what happened from your uncle,” Aunt Vera said in Russian as she floated away from me. “So terrible! I called your mama, and we came here to check on them.”
The Stravinsky women entered the kitchen as if they owned the place. Aunt Vera took over my seat and happily placed the casserole dish in the center of the table. She removed the lid to reveal seledka pod shuboi—a layered dish of sliced herring, cubed potatoes, and lots of other veggies. Farley grimaced. During the pack family gatherings, the Stravinskys usually brought some. My friends rarely ate it.
“Good to see both of you unharmed.” Aunt Vera patted Will’s arm. “What in heavens happened?”
Will opened his mouth, then quickly shut it again.
Aunt Vera leaned toward him like a vulture homing in a rumor-laden prey.
Mom plugged in her Crock-Pot. The rich smells of well-seasoned meat filled the kitchen. My empty stomach yanked me toward her.
“The insurance company is sorting things out,” Thorn said. “But so far, the cabin is a total loss.”
His words rang true, but it was what he hadn’t revealed that made Aunt Vera nod slowly.
“That was such a beautiful house.” Aunt Vera helped herself to the food I left on my plate. “Your mama took such great care of it.”
Now that I’d lost my spot, which I wouldn’t mourn over, I fetched my aunt a warm cup of coffee. Two sugars and five creams, just the way she liked it.
After that, I stood next to my mother as she doled out servings onto plates. Why bother asking them if they wanted the roast or not? Food was food.
“How was your first day with the demons?” Mom examined me like a mama wolf checking her pup for knicks and cuts. “Your grandma was worried you’d find trouble.” She knocked three times on the counter to ward evil away.
I recounted the peculiar shop that changed from day to night, but I didn’t reveal the fairies or the strange spirits I’d encountered. Werewolves like my mother hated magic and all the dark intent connected with it. And for good reason. Long ago, she’d weathered an unfortunate incident with spellcasters.
“You’re taking care of all those customers and not getting paid?” Mom asked.
Now that wasn’t what I expected her to say next, but hey, I had bills to pay, too.
I told her how I had to repay my debt to Bill, who held me responsible for breaking into the rival thrift shop across the street from The Bends. “Stravinskys always repay their debts.”
She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Those goblins are tricksters. Next thing you know, you’ll owe the fairies at the bakery or the dwarves over at Dollar Tree for a shift or two. Keep your nose clean, Natalya.”
I snatched the plate of roast. “I know. I’ve dug way too many holes. Time to patch up a few before I fall in.”
Aunt Vera wiggled her fingers to beckon me to come to her. “Come get some of Grandma’s seledka pod shuboi. She worked her hands to the bone to make this for you.”
I nodded and accepted two generous scoops, knowing very well Grandma had cooked the dish in an hour. Elaborating on my grandmother’s misfortune was a tried-and-true Stravinsky guilt trip.
Will offered his seat to Mom, and they traded places. The youngest Grantham escaped out the back door before Farley could call after him.
“Wanna sit, Nat?” Thorn asked.
I shook my head and leaned against the counter to eat.
“Is she taking the day off, too?” Farley grumbled.
Thorn gave his dad the side-eye. Even the clink-clink from Aunt Vera as she stirred the creamfest in her cup stopped.
“She worked the night shift,” Thorn said, “and spotted the fire on her way home from work.” He glanced at me and jerked his chin toward the exit. Go to sleep, he mouthed.
I shook my head. Family had arrived and there was no way I’d leave them with Farley in such a foul mood.
“You and your boy will need clothes and things,” Mom said gently. “I already called my church, and everyone is preparing care packages.”
“I don’t need their charity,” Farley said stiffly.
“Charity?” Aunt Vera scoffed. “Your son will need clean clothes.”
“He’ll get them soon enough,” Farley said. “The Granthams take care of their own.”
Briefly, my gaze connected with Farley’s, and I was the one to look away.
“How long do you plan to stay here?” Mom asked the question I wouldn’t dare ask.
“Not for long.” Farley slurped his juice and crumbs from his chin tumbled to the floor. “This home is too crowded.”
“They have a spare bedroom, Farley.” Aunt Vera tried to lighten the mood. “Why don’t you rest for a while and let your in-laws spoil you?”
He chuffed. “You might be able to ignore the trash in the living room, Vera, but I can’t pretend it isn’t there,” he said matter-of-factly. “That type of behavior isn’t normal.”
The seledka pod shuboi in my mouth thickened.
Dr. Frank had told me once, “Anxiety disorders do have an effect on the family members of the sufferers. But with an open mind and dialogue, you can make progress toward resolving your issues with them.”
Apparently, my father-in-law hadn’t gotten the same chit-chat about an open mind.
Thorn stiffened, but Mom quickly spoke.
“Family is family,” she said. “We don’t get to choose what God gives us.”
“No, we don’t get a choice.” Farley eyed me while he spoke. “But what I do know is that a pack should choose their members. Not a single man who chooses his woman over his pack.”
Mom and Aunt Vera’s heads swiveled to me at the same time.
“Go to sleep, Natalya,” Aunt Vera said in Russian. The bite in her tone was unmistakable.
“But my food—” I said.
“Eat later.” My mother tilted her head in a way that used to frighten me as a child. Mama Wolf was about to throw down, and she didn’t want me to see it.
The minute I left the room, I heard my mom say, “I’ve tolerated your behavior for years, Farley. But today if you want to fight with words, you should be ready to fight with your fists, too.”
