Wicked Appetite (28 page)

“Thanks.” I slipped the phone into my pocket and looked Diesel over. “You ever have your sperm count checked out?”

His eyebrows raised a quarter of an inch. “Excuse me?”

“Just wondering. Not everyone’s got good swimmers, you know.”

“I imagine my swimmers are okay.”

“Nice to know, because considering your superior genes, you’d be a terrific baby maker.”

Diesel grinned over at me. “Is that an idle compliment or are you going somewhere with it?”

“I’m thinking it might be a good idea for us to have a baby. In fact, if it works out, we could have lots of babies. Okay, I know we’re supposed to save the world from evil, but I don’t see why we can’t make babies
and
save the world.”

Diesel stuck his hand out. “Give it to me.”

“What?”

“Melody’s charm.”

“Do you think it’s affecting me?”

The grin turned into a full-on smile. “Yeah.”

I pulled the necklace out of my pocket and gave it to Diesel. “I guess this means you don’t want to make a baby.”

“Rain check,” Diesel said.

I heard the television turn on in the living room, and I stuck my head in to see what was going on. Carl and Cat were on the couch, and Carl was scrolling through the guide.

“Is he a Normal monkey?” I asked Diesel.

Diesel chugged half a bottle of water. “I don’t know. What’s he watching? Lifetime? Disney? Fox?”

“He’s trying to buy porn.”

“Good for him,” Diesel said.

“Don’t encourage him. Maybe you’re not father material after all. Maybe I need to go out and find someone else.” I looked at my watch. “It’s too early to troll the bars. I guess I could try my luck at the mall or a supermarket.”

Diesel finished his water and pitched it into the recycle bin. “You’re not serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. I’m not getting any younger. If I don’t hurry up, all my good eggs will be gone, and I’ll be left with only second-rate eggs.”

“This is even more bizarre than the food obsession and the hanky panky spanky,” Diesel said. “I need to get some distance between you and the charm. I can’t let you see my safe place, because it would put you at risk with Wulf. You’re going to have to stay here. I’ll only be gone a half hour. You have to promise not to go out alone.”

“Sure,” I said. “But then you have to help me with the baby making.”

“Deal.”

Diesel locked the door on his way out, and I joined Carl and Cat on the couch. Carl had given up on adult movies and settled on a ball game. I think baseball on television is like watching grass grow. I was moments away from falling off the couch in a stupor when Glo called.

“I’ve got it. I know this is it,” Glo said. “I found a reverse spell for Shirley.”

“And?”

“And I need you to come take a look at it. Clara isn’t here. She went to the bank. And anyway, I don’t know if she’s a good judge of spells. You’re an Unmentionable. You must sense some of these things.”

“Actually, no.”

“Well, you’re all I’ve got.”

“Can you read it over the phone?”

“No! What if there’s something wrong with it. I could blow a fuse and shut down the entire Northeast grid.”

I hung up and wrote a letter to Diesel explaining the emergency. I taped the letter to the door and told Carl to make sure Diesel saw it. I grabbed my purse, went to the front door, and hesitated. I’d promised Diesel I wouldn’t go off on my own.

“Only one thing to do,” I said to Cat. “You have to come with me.”

Twenty minutes later, we were at the bakery. Glo was waiting with Ripple’s book lying open on the glass case, and her broom was propped against the wall behind her. She was dressed all in black, and she had a shiny gold star stuck to her forehead.

“It’s Cat 7143!” she said. “What a cool surprise.”

Cat jumped onto the glass case and sat back on his haunches so Glo could scratch his neck.

“What’s with the star on your forehead?” I asked her.

“I got the idea when I was at Office Depot yesterday. Clara asked me to stop and get paper for the printer, and I saw these stars. You know, it’s all about accessorizing.”

“That’s so true.”

“And you can’t go wrong with gold.”

“Hardly ever.”

“And I thought they might be magical. You never know about these things.” Glo turned the book so I could see the spell. “This is it,” she said. “Take a look at it, but don’t read it out loud.”

I glanced at the spell and slid the book back to Glo. “It looks okay to me,” I said, “but honestly, I’m not an expert. I didn’t pick up anything wrong with the gobble spell until Shirley turned into a turkey.”

“Here goes,” Glo said. “I’m going to do this long-distance by visualizing Shirley.”

“Do you think that will work?”

“I’ve been reading up on it, and this spell should be a good traveler. Anyway, I’m afraid Shirley will shoot me on sight if I go to her apartment.”

“Good point.”

Glo took a deep breath and followed word for word with her finger. “Magic come, magic go.” She took a small plastic bag half filled with white powder from her pocket and threw a pinch of the powder into the air. “Wizard, witch, pickle pie in your eye.” She threw another pinch into the air. “Cast out all spells on Shirley More.” Glo turned around three times and clapped her hands.

Cat sneezed and shook his head.

“Should there be a sign that it worked?” I asked Glo. “Like a flash of light or a bell ringing?”

“
Ripple’s
didn’t say anything about that.”

“What was the powder?”

“I don’t know exactly. I got it from the Exotica store. It’s supposed to be a spell enhancer.”

We stood for a couple beats, waiting for a sign, but no sign was forthcoming.

“I hope it worked,” Glo said.

“Me, too.”

“It’s a little scary, since in the past some of my spells haven’t turned out perfect.”

That was a gross understatement. I searched my brain for a change of subject and settled on her broom.

“How’s the broom doing?” I asked her.

“It’s a process,” Glo said.

The door opened and Clara rushed in. “I just saw Shirley. She’s three blocks away, and my guess is she’s headed for the bakery, and she’s going at it like Godzilla storming Tokyo.”

“Oh no!” Glo said. “Lock the door. Does she have a gun?”

“Not that I could see,” Clara said. “You didn’t do any more reading from
Ripple’s,
did you?”

“It was just a teensy spell,” Glo said. “And it was a do-good spell, I swear.”

Clara looked around. “Were there any explosions? Fire? Did anyone get shingles?”

“Yipes! There she is!” Glo said, spotting Shirley through the window.

Shirley threw the door open, and Glo ducked down behind the counter.

“Ta da,”
Shirley sang, making an expansive gesture. “I’m not gobbling anymore.”

Glo peeked over the counter.

“I owe you all an apology,” Shirley said. “The whole gobbledegook thing wasn’t your fault at all. I went to the doctor yesterday after I visited the cemetery, and he decided to take me off the blood pressure medication. He said it was possible that I was talking funny from the medication, plus the power of suggestion. And he was right. It just kicked in. I was walking down the street, coming to the bakery to buy bread, and I felt something go
ding
in my head, and it was like this week never happened.”

“Gee, that’s great,” I said to Shirley. I looked over at Glo. “Isn’t that great, Glo?”

“Yeah,” Glo said. “That’s great.”

Clara moved behind the counter. “What kind of bread do you want?” she asked Shirley.

“Rye without the seeds.”

Clara bagged a rye bread and handed it to Shirley. “It’s on the house.”

The back door opened and closed, and Diesel and Carl moseyed in.

“Shirley can talk,” I told him. “It just happened.”

“Congratulations,” Diesel said.

“Sorry I went goofy at the cemetery,” Shirley said. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“I wanted to know about Phil’s funeral.”

“It was just an ordinary funeral,” Shirley said. “A short ceremony at the funeral home chapel and then a few words at graveside. I didn’t know any of the people.”

“Was anything buried with Phil? A keepsake or a photo?”

“Not that I know, but it was a closed casket. The viewing was closed casket, too. I guess he left really specific instructions about all that. I barely got here in time. He died, and the next day I was on a plane. The lawyer sent me a ticket. And then Phil had an evening viewing, and he was buried the next morning.”

“Do you remember the funeral home?”

“It was Chippers, but they’re not here anymore. Old Mr. Chippers died last year, and his kids sold the business.”

“Anything else?”

Shirley took a moment. “That’s all. Except he had a special casket. I guess he picked it out himself and had it waiting. I think that’s kind of gruesome, but it seems Uncle Phil had his quirks.”

“Can you describe the casket?”

“Dark wood. Like mahogany. And lots of carvings. Vines, flowers, bugs. Very ornate. And a big eye on the top of it.”

Shirley left with her bread, and Clara, Glo, and I exchanged looks that said
What the heck am I supposed to think now?

“I suppose it could have been the blood pressure medicine,” Glo finally said.

“You never know how people are going to react to medicine,” I said.

“Anything’s possible,” Clara said.

Diesel put his hand to my neck and squeezed a little. Not hard enough to leave a bruise, but hard enough to get my attention. “You weren’t supposed to go out of the house without me.”

“No. That’s not entirely accurate,” I said. “You told me not to go out alone. And I’m not alone. I brought Cat.”

“Cat doesn’t count,” Diesel said.

Cat jumped to his feet, arched his back, and hissed at Diesel, showing dagger-sharp fangs.

“I stand corrected,” Diesel said.

It was seven o’clock, and Cat and Carl were back in front of the television. Diesel was on a stool in the kitchen, one leg extended, one leg bent, arms crossed over his chest, watching me work.

I was rearranging my pantry, checking expiration dates, lining up cereal boxes and jars of jelly. It was a lame attempt to convince myself I had some control over my life. Okay, so I might not be able to get rid of Diesel and his save-the-world deal, but dammit, I could set my pantry in order. And when I was done with the pantry, I was heading upstairs to the sock drawer.

“I’m surprised you’re hanging out,” I said to Diesel. “Shouldn’t you be thumb wrestling Wulf for the last charm?”

“Yes, but it’s more fun watching you decide if the jelly should be color coordinated or alphabetized. And when you
reach for stuff on the top shelf, I get to see skin between your shirt and your jeans.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in fun.”

“Honey, I’m all about fun.”

“It looks to me like you’re all about responsibility.”

Diesel stood and took his cell phone out of his pocket. “It’s a phase. And you’re right about Wulf. I should be thumb wrestling with him.” He tapped a number into his phone and waited while the connection was made. “We need to talk,” Diesel said into the phone. He listened for a long moment and stared down at his shoe. “Understood,” he said. And he hung up.

“Is he going to give you the last charm?” I asked.

“I’ve never understood the function of the charms, only that they would either lead us to the Stone or that in some magical way they would
become
the Stone. Apparently, that’s Wulf’s ace in the hole. Wulf figured out that the charms were keys. And he knew what the keys opened. And unfortunately, he has that object in his possession.”

I had a horrifying flash of insight. “Uncle Phil’s casket.”

“Yes.”

It took Diesel twenty minutes to collect the three charms. Just enough time for me to finish straightening my sock drawer. I’d tried my best to stay calm by keeping busy, but my stomach was churning. Carl and Cat had refused to stay behind, so we had them with us in the Lincoln.

The sun was setting on Salem when we rolled into town with the windows down, the idea being that the rush of air might save me from going gluttonously nutty.

“How are you doing?” Diesel asked me.

“Doughnut,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “I’ve got it under control. Hot dog.”

Crap! Did I just say
hot dog?

“Try to hold it together,” Diesel said.

“You know how you get that tickle in the back of your throat when a killer cold is coming on? I have that tickle everywhere.”