Greased Piggy

GREASED PIGGY

I drop into the wooden chair at the kitchen table and exhale in relief as I enjoy a rare moment of quiet.

The old pipes groan as the shower turns on upstairs. Zane and Esme had come up when I returned home from the hardware store and are now upstairs showering while I play watchdog.

Luckily, the long, frozen driveway discourages casual visits, so it’s an easy job. Or so it should be.

Knock, knock, knock.

My heart leaps into my throat at the sharp, unexpected rapping on the front door. I twist and peek out the kitchen window to spot Aspen standing on my porch.

Well, poop. What’s he doing here ?

Anxiety spikes through me, and I glance toward the stairs, where the sound of a shower can be heard.

Is there any way to pretend I’m not home?

The knock comes again, and when I peek back outside, I find Aspen staring straight at me, one blond brow arched in question.

Double poop.

Plastering on a fake smile, I leave the kitchen and pull open the front door. “Aspen, what a surprise. To what do I owe this unexpected visit when I already saw you this morning?”

He smiles as he steps forward, forcing me back a pace. “I thought I’d come by and see how you’re doing after our meeting. When did you start locking your door?”

“This morning.” I don’t move from the entryway, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Too many instances of getting caught in the act, you know?”

“Well, I’m glad that doesn’t seem to be the case this time.” His gaze shifts toward the stairs. “Haut is taking the day off?”

“You know how he is.” I smile so big my cheeks hurt. “Loves to shirk duties, that one.”

“Uh huh.” He steps farther into the house, then stops when I stay in his path. “I wanted to also hear what your official test will be, and to offer any assistance.”

“You’re not actually allowed to help, so?—”

“It’s getting so cold these days. I’d love a cup of tea while you tell me about it.” He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over his arm before turning to me expectantly. “Shall we chat in the kitchen?”

“Sure…” With a last glance toward the stairs, I shut the door. “One tea, coming right up.”

He follows me into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table while I rush to put the kettle on, praying Zane and Esme linger in the shower and out of sight. They have no idea Aspen is here, and I have no way of warning them without appearing more suspicious.

“So, tell me about the test Gael came up with,” Aspen encourages when I remain silent for too long.

“He…uh…wants me to create fulgurite without a storm, then, uh, write the process as a spell so other ethereal witches can recreate it.” The whistle of the kettle makes me jump, and I fumble to pull down a pair of mugs. “Chamomile?”

“That would be lovely.” Aspen studies the pulled blinds on the kitchen windows. “How will you do it?”

“I picked up a pickaxe and some lightning rods on my way home.” I pop a tea bag into one mug and add hot cocoa mix to the other before adding the hot water, then bring both mugs to the table. “My only concern is, with the beach frozen, is there too much water in the sand?”

“Definitely don’t stand on it when you bring down the lightning.” Aspen bobs the tea bag in and out of his mug. “The bigger challenge will be how to write the spell. Do you have a plan for that?”

As I consider the question, I stir my hot cocoa, trying to cool it faster. “I’m guessing he’ll want something more complicated than connect to ethereal, summon lightning to rods, collect glass?”

“Just a bit more complicated.” He purses his lips. “What parts am I not allowed to help you with?”

“Oh, the second part.” I dip my finger into my mug, then yank it back with a hiss when the liquid burns me. “After I create the fulgurite, I’m supposed to work with three coven members to come up with three spells to use it. You and Mel can’t be part of the development.”

“Ah, so I’m allowed to still mentor you, but not help in the actual spell creation.” He nods in thought. “Start by referencing the first Wendall grimoire for your initial spell creation. Since we believe she was an ethereal witch, there should be notes about it in her spellcraft. ”

“That’s a good idea.” And thanks to the Brigade’s hard work, it’s already translated.

“For the second part of the test, I’d suggest working with Delilah. Fulgurite has a long history of amplifying the ability to speak over long distances. Harper would be another good choice. As an Earth witch, she could use it to draw magic to her garden.” He considers for a long moment before he nods. “And your third spell should be with Aris.”

My brows shoot up in surprise. “My cousin?”

“What better way to show the council witches how beneficial the Grim Project can be than to show it in action?” He smiles. “A charm witch would have no problem coming up with any number of uses for trapped lightning.”

“That’s…a good idea.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He takes a sip of his tea. “I am your mentor, even if we disagree sometimes.”

“More than sometimes,” I mutter.

He sets his mug down with a sigh. “My methods don’t always make sense to you, and we’re both stubborn, which leads to us butting heads. Also, I don’t praise you enough. You’ve made excellent progress over the last two months, especially with everything happening lately. ”

My heart stutters. Does he know about Zane and Esme? To hide my rising panic, I take a gulp of cocoa, and the hot liquid scalds my throat.

I choke, spitting the chocolate back into my cup.

Aspen half rises. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I croak out. “What do you mean with everything happening lately?”

He frowns with concern. “With everything that happened in Silver Hollow, and now me springing the ring tests on you.”

“Oh, right.” I rise to add cold water to my mug. “All of that .”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak, and every muscle in my body tenses. Please, please stay quiet.

Aspen’s eyes flick to the ceiling, then back to me. “Sounds like Haut is done in the shower.”

“Well, this has been a good talk, but I guess that’s your signal to leave.” I motion toward the door. “Gotta jump on that beefcake, if you know what I mean.”

“But I haven’t finished my tea—” He cuts off in dismay as I whisk the nearly full mug away from him. “Fine, I did show up unannounced. I’ll get going.”

As he stands to put on his jacket, the stairs creak .

“It sure has been nice visiting with you, Aspen,” I say loud enough to carry.

He gives me a bemused look. “There’s no need to shout.”

“Well, you know how Haut likes to walk around naked and all,” I continue at the same volume. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a peek at those tight abs.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Aspen reminds me in a dry tone. “But I appreciate your attempt at modesty.”

A floorboard creaks overhead, and we both glance up.

“I’d best be going.” Aspen heads for the door. “Be careful with your lightning rods. Wear rubber-soled shoes and stay off the beach.”

A crash from upstairs makes my heart plummet into my stomach. The unmistakable tinkling of shattered glass fills my ears, sending my mind spiraling with dread.

Aspen’s eyes snap up toward the stairs, narrowing with concern. “What was that noise?”

I force a laugh, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “Oh, probably just something falling in the bathroom. You know how clumsy Haut can be. ”

Legs like jelly, I gesture Aspen toward the door. “Off you go. Tootles.”

“Shouldn’t we go check on him?” Aspen’s steps slow near the stairs. “He might have injured himself. With all the construction you have going on up there…”

“No!” The word bursts out before I can stop it. I dodge in front of him, hands braced on the banister. “I mean, that’s okay! Haut’s a wolf shifter. Super healing and whatnot. He’s fine .”

My manic grin does nothing to lessen Aspen’s concern. “If you don’t want to check, then I will.”

“Fine, I’ll go kiss his booboo. Just…stay down here.” Heart pounding, I turn and bound up the stairs two at a time, mind whirring to concoct an excuse to get Aspen out of my house.

When I pop into my old bedroom turned into Ambros’s room, the bathroom door stands ajar, and a sense of worry settles in my gut. What if something terrible happened to Zane? Did his wound open back up?

Hand shaking, I push the door the rest of the way open.

Esme stands frozen, mouth slack with shock as she gapes at the floor covered in glittering shards.

Zane kneels beside her, bits of glass cradled in his palm as he picks up what remains of my cotton ball holder. “Sorry, we knocked it off the counter.”

“Shh, keep your voices down!” I glance toward the doorway. “Aspen is right downstairs!”

Esme’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. “I’m so sorry, Rowe, it was an accident?—”

“Never mind that now,” I cut her off. “Zane, grab a towel. We need to clean this up before?—”

Heavy footsteps sound on the stairs, and my heart leaps into my throat.

I shut the door firmly and hurry back out into the hall just as Aspen appears at the top of the landing. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine!” My voice comes out higher than normal. “Haut dropped the massage oil! He wanted to get all slippery so we could play greased piggy.”

“Oh, that’s…quite the visual.” Aspen’s cheeks flush, and he turns to head back downstairs. “You two enjoy your afternoon together.”

I trail after him. “It’s a super fun game. You and Mel should try it sometime. One of you greases yourself up, while the other?—”

“I have the visual, thank you.” Aspen lengthens his stride, heading for the door.

Relief turns my knees to water, and I grip the banister. “Okay, well, if you ever need some advice on keeping things spicy between you and Mel…”

“We’re good on that front, but thank you.” He reaches for the door handle. “Have a good day?—”

“Rowe!” Haut roars from outside. “What the hell do you think you’re doing stealing my car?”

Aspen and I freeze as Haut storms into the house, nearly nailing Aspen with the door.

“Oh, Haut, how did you get from upstairs to outside so fast?” I say weakly. “And you put your uniform back on. Are we roleplaying cops and robbers now instead of greased piggy?”

Haut’s eyes dart toward the stairs, and he snaps his mouth shut, but too late.

Aspen spins back toward me. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” I wave my hands in the air. “Absolutely nothing is going on.”

Another thud comes from upstairs, and Aspen steps toward me. “Who’s up there?”

“Ghosts!” Pulse leaping, I lunge in front of him. “It turns out granny’s house is super haunted. On account of all the dead bodies buried at the sheriff’s station.”

“Yeah, super haunted.” Haut knocks on the wall. “Old thing is always making noises. ”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Aspen places a foot on the stairs. “Now, get out of my way.”

In a last-ditch attempt, I throw my arms out to stop him. “You really don’t want to go up there!”

“You’re hiding something from me!” He shakes his head and moves my arm out of the way. “After everything we’ve been through?—”

“Where’s my little piglet?” Owen calls from the top of the stairs. “Sheriff Haut needs his afternoon bacon.”

Pulse pounding, I slowly turn to see Owen standing at the top of the stairs, bare chest glistening with oil as he knocks back one of Haut’s sheriff hats sitting on his head.

Aspen freezes, horror twisting his features.

Owen pretends to notice him for the first time. “Oh, Aspen, I thought you’d left.”

Aspen whips toward me, a murderous look on his face.

“Yeah, so… Owen and I were roleplaying Sheriff Haut Gets the Bacon. ”

“Please, I don’t want to know.” Face flushed, Aspen hurries past Haut. “If you need any more mentoring, we can do it down at the community center. ”

The door slams shut behind him, and everyone sags with relief.

I turn back to Owen. “How in the world…?”

“I brought Haut home and heard what was going on from outside. So I climbed the porch roof and snuck in through your window.” He takes off the hat, glances down at his chest, and grimaces. “Greased piggy? You couldn’t have come up with something else?”

“Burn that hat,” Haut growls. “And never touch my uniform again.”

“Is he gone?” Esme calls out.

“We’re all clear.”

The two fugitives appear next to Owen, and Zane gives him a relieved nod. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Owen shudders. “I need a shower.”

“Be careful,” Esme warns as he heads for the bathroom. “We dropped a glass container.”

He lifts a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing from view.

Esme and Zane hurry down the stairs.

“Sorry, Rowe.” Esme wrings her hands as she peers toward the door. “We almost gave ourselves away. ”

“Not your fault.” I pat her arm. “And after this, I don’t think Aspen will drop by unannounced again.”

She giggles and nods. “How about Zane and I make dinner as a thank you for everything you’ve done for us?”

The offer perks me up. “Fresh bread?”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Zane wraps an arm around Esme, and they head toward the kitchen.

A heavy hand falls on my shoulder. “You have some explaining to do, bad puppy.”

“Okay, hear me out.” I turn to face Haut. “I need a car of my own.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “And you thought stealing mine would sell me on this plan?”

“Well, I stole Owen’s last time, so I thought we should spread the love.” I make puppy eyes at him. “Mates share, right?”

He makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. “And what did you so desperately need my car for?”

“Oh!” Excited, I spin away from him and stride to the stairs, grabbing the pickaxe I propped against the side of the staircase. I turn back to him. “For this!”

Alarm flashes across his face, and his arms drop to his sides as he steps toward me. “What the hell is that for?”

“Hole digging!” I bounce the sharp implement in my hands. “And since you’re so good at digging graves, I think you’re just the man to help me with my homework!”

Motions careful, he takes the pickaxe from me. “Your homework is to dig graves?”

“No, silly.” I hurry to the closet to grab my jacket. “We’re going to make lightning!”

“I still don’t see where the pickaxe comes in.”

Pushing past him to open the door, I roll my eyes at how slow he is to catch on. “It’s to make holes for the lightning rods. They’re still in the back of the SUV.”

He trails after me. “We’re going to dig holes and plant lightning rods?”

“Now you’ve got it!” As I march out onto the porch, cold wind whips against my cheeks. “To the beach!”

With a sigh, he props the pickaxe against his shoulder as he follows me. “Fine, but when we get back, we’re playing greased piggy.”