Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

I f she wasn't laughing hard enough before, she sure was now. The giggle bubbled up from her throat until it spilled from her mouth like jelly beans from a jar.

His grandmother's hand? What in all of absolute madness was this man babbling about? Sure, he was pretty to look at, but weren't all the hot ones either obsessed with their reflection or completely nuts?

The thought made her laugh harder. So hard, Robbie reached for the nearest wall to lean against. Then she felt bad for making snap judgements, the way people made judgements about her.

She probably looked insane, but if that was the case, these people—these people who hadn't batted an eye at her talking broom and Nina's fried hair—were a whole lot more likely to end up in a damn straightjacket before she was.

Wanda was the first to welcome the hot guy named Greer, smoothing her skirt before holding out her hand. "Wanda Jefferson, and the laughing hyena's name is Roberta Tisdale. She contacted us via our website. We were just getting to know one another and her…situation."

"She's reached meltdown, I see," he said calmly, his voice deep, resonating in her chest as Robbie fought more hysterical laughter by putting her wrist over her mouth.

Nina held her hand out to him. "Nina Statleon, and ya think? We still haven't even told her much about us. We were in the stages of finding out what the fuck happened to her after she set my damn hair on fire."

He cocked an eyebrow, driving his hands into his jean pockets. "Human?"

"Painfully fucking human," Nina retorted, whatever that meant.

Human? Wait. Weren't they all humans?

"She's in shock," Wanda offered. "It might be a minute before we can get any more information out of her."

Greer nodded. "I think I can help. My apologies for not softening the blow upon my entry. I didn't know you hadn't already explained who you were, and I didn't know for sure if she was human. I should have been more sensitive."

Why did everyone keep saying that? Of course she was human!

Marty raised her hand and smiled at Greer. "I'm Marty Flaherty, and we'd love for you to explain to us the whys and hows of your grandmother and her…hand, but as you can see, we have a situation."

Robbie watched the exchange as they all introduced themselves, made pleasantries, and she vaguely listened as Greer explained how he'd found her and that he was very aware of the women and their organization.

She heard him say the words legends in their community in reference to the ladies, but none of it was truly registering. She was still back at talking broom. And what did he mean by their community ?

As she began to crash, and her laughter subsided, Robbie tried to parse all the words everyone was saying. So we had talking broom, her hand that could set things on fire and was somehow this hot guy's grandmother's hand, three women who didn't appear fazed by these oddities, a castle in Long Island…oh, and a little blue man.

Replaying all that in her head again, somehow the words began to stick— really stick.

And now she was terrified. Why had they come here, and how could they get the frack out?

Exhausted, Robbie sank back into a chair, her stomach aching from laughing so much as she tucked her hand to her chest and pondered escape.

That was when Greer finally approached her, his green eyes now sparkling and friendly. "Hi, Robbie. I think I can help you with…your hand, if you'll just let me explain."

Robbie looked up at him, and despite her mouth going dry because he was so tall and handsome, her eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for an exit. She didn't care how cute he was. She didn't want his help.

Nina moved closer, making her shake. "She's gonna run, ladies," she muttered. "I can smell it."

"Everyone just hold the phone," she heard Wanda order. "We can't help her if she doesn't understand who's doing the helping. I think it might be time for the reality check. It's not how I like to introduce ourselves, but this isn't healthy for Robbie. She'll need to come to terms with what's happening to her the sooner the better. We're her new reality."

Marty planted her hands on her hips. "Do you really think she's stable enough? I mean, we don't even know if Greer's right."

"It doesn't fucking matter if he's right, Ass Sniffer. It's obvious she's got some shit goin' on. She has a damn broom that talks. In order to help her, she needs to know about us."

All this talk about knowing who they were was really making her antsy.

Greer held up a hand. "I don't mean to be rude, Mrs. Flaherty, but I'm right. I'll explain how I know whenever you're ready."

Robbie looked at all of them, standing there talking about her as though she wasn't even in the room. Of course, it was only fair they talk around her. She wasn't exactly presenting as rational after that laughing jag, but she didn't want to see whatever they wanted to show her.

Robbie'd seen enough. Heard enough. Had enough.

She was going to take herself, her fried hair, and Grammy's hand back to her sad apartment and figure this out— alone .

Yep. She was gonna run.

Hopefully, when she grabbed T's hand, he'd be able to keep up. He exercised, she'd seen him do it in the gym at her mother's mansion once or twice, when her mother was away ruining the world one deal at a time.

Though, as she looked at his shiny shoes, she wondered if he wouldn't slip, but it was a chance they were gonna have to take because she wasn't sticking around for whatever they wanted to show her.

Robbie began to rise in slow increments, remembering what Nina said about running. She sent an eyeball signal to Tottington, who'd been positively silent since she'd yelled at him—something she'd never done in her whole life, and he'd been with her since she was three years old.

Hitching her jaw toward the arched entryway to the basement, Robbie bulged her eyes to emphasize they should skedaddle.

The literal second she picked her sneakered foot up, Nina was there in a fuzzy blur of motion, grabbing her by the back of her jacket.

"No," she said, her nostrils flaring, yanking Robbie up so they were eyeball to eyeball.

"No what?" she said on a gulp, rounding her eyes in innocence as her feet dangled above the floor.

"You're not gonna make me fucking chase you. Save the Bambi eyes for someone with fucking feelings. It's late. You'll never get the fuck away from me, and I have zero tolerance for your bullshit because whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not, you need help. So no ."

Before she reflected on the idea that this woman was holding her one-hundred-and-fifty-pound ass in the air as though she were a paper bag, Robbie found herself compelled to mention Nina's skin.

"My God. Your skin is flawless. Why don't you have any pores? You have zero pores. How can that be?"

Nina's eyes narrowed, shooting angry daggers at her. "Stop deflecting and promise to sit your ass in that chair or I'll make you sit in the chair."

Remember the devil, Robbie. There was talk of her fighting with the devil. You're scrappy, but you're not that scrappy.

Marty came up behind Nina and squeezed her arm. "Nina, put her down now. She's terrified. Surely you can smell that. Stop scaring her."

But Nina shook her head. "Not until she promises to fucking stay put."

Looking at this sitch logically, Robbie knew she could never in a million years outrun this woman who was quicker than NASCAR, so she nodded with resignation. "I promise."

Nina unceremoniously dropped her back in her chair, where Tottington came to her side and Wanda put a gentle hand on her shoulder, her eyes soft and sympathetic.

"We would never hurt you, Robbie. I promise. But you will be shocked, maybe even a little scared. However, in order for us to explain the paranormal nature of what's going on with you, you have to know who we are so you understand we're capable of helping. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied numbly, sinking into her chair.

Nina cackled and cracked her knuckles. "Then let the fucking good times roll!"

Robbie sat next to Tottington—who'd finally agreed to sit at Marty's insistence, and who wouldn't after that demonstration of all the things paranormal—taking deep breaths as Wanda sat on her other side, smoothing her fingers over the flushed skin of her left hand.

"Robbie, are you all right, honey? How can we make this easier?"

She finally focused her bulging eyeballs on the lovely, calming Wanda for the first time since they'd shown her what being paranormal was all about.

Reaching a hand up, she plucked something from Wanda's now unkempt hair and showed it to her. "Hair ball."

Wanda smiled and took it from her fingers before blowing it to the floor, where the rest of them floated about like tumbleweeds after their change…er shift. That's what it was called. It was called a shift. "Thank you. Now, how are you?"

This couldn't be real. Had they drugged her? Hypnotized her? Maybe they were… "Are you guys magicians? I feel like David Copperfield just put on the show of a lifetime. He's a really nice guy, by the way."

"You know David Copperfield?" Marty asked as she smoothed out her silky black palazzo pants and straightened the draping silver chain belt around her waist.

"I don't know him , know him. I met him on a trip to Vegas after we saw his show. My mother owns—" She stopped herself from saying anything more. It would only sound pretentious.

"This ain't a fucking magic show. If it was some Vegas act, would my hair be doing this?" Nina plucked at the half of her head Robbie had burned and, as predicted, it was already growing back. In fact, she'd gained about four inches since this all began. "I'm a damn vampire, and it looks like you're a fucking witch with a talking broom."

"Oui-oui!" Hervé called out.

Robbie couldn't deny what she'd seen, but she could sure as heck come up with loads of explanations. Some feasible, some maybe a little shaky. But Nina's hair actually growing back?

How could she refute that? It was literally happening before her eyes.

Tottington, still silent, grabbed Robbie's other hand. "We did see that, Roberta," he confirmed with so much conviction, spittle formed at the corner of his mouth. " We did . That truly happened. Vampires and werewolves exist. As fantastical, as mad as that sounds to my ears, they exist. By God, they're real ."

"And so are witches," Greer said.

"Are you a witch, too?" she asked, her voice wobbly and weak.

He nodded. "I am."

Robbie looked down at her hand and winced. "I can't…"

"Process?" Wanda asked, patting her knee when Robbie nodded. "It takes a little time, honey. Your whole life has just changed, and going forward, everything's going to be different. It's only fair you should have the time to acclimate."

As Wanda's words sank in, Robbie froze. "Wait. Did you just say my whole life? This can't be fixed? We can't make this go away?" She held up her hand and stared at it before looking to Greer. "Am I always going to set people on fire with your grandmother's hand?"

Her ears buzzed at the ludicrous words. His grandmother's hand…

Greer came and sat in the chair closest to her, striding across the floor as hairballs from Wanda and Marty's shift tumbled past his feet.

His eyes, though sympathetic, were intense, his lean face sober. "Are you ready to hear how I found you and what I think needs to be done?"

"Does it have to do with wearing a pointy hat, a cauldron and some frogs legs?"

He grinned, and even in the middle of all the chaos, Robbie noted it was beautiful. "No frog legs."

"But definitely a pointy hat and a cauldron?" she asked again, only half-joking.

Now he chuckled, sending a sizzle of electricity along her spine as he folded his hands together in his lap. "Pointy hats are a little sixteen ninety-two Salem witch trials, but the hat once symbolized many things. Otherness, freedom."

Otherness . The word struck Robbie at her core. She'd always felt different than her family. Always. They didn't feel things the way she felt them. She'd always been accused of being overly sensitive, and Robbie considered all of them callous—especially her mother. That word fit her to a T.

As Greer watched, she lifted her chin. "Okay, so scratch the pointy hat. What about eye of newt? Is there any eye of newt, because I'm here to tell you, I've eaten fish eyes and they're disgusting."

He laughed again and shook his head. "No eye of newt. Spells are much more complicated than the movies portray them. We'll get to that later. Though, you do have a broom. That means the universe knows of your existence and sent aid."

Robbie sat up straight, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. "You mean him? Hervé? How can he aid me? All he's done so far is freak me out."

"Oh, mon ami, how do you say such things about Hervé?" the broom groaned. "Why do you hurt me so?"

Greer leaned closer, giving her a whiff of his fresh-scented cologne. "You know, having a broom can be pretty amazing."

"See! Ze pretty man tells ze truth. I am an asset!"

Robbie gave Greer a bland look. "No disrespect, but how is he an asset?"

He looked back at her, a twinkle is his beautiful eyes. "He's your ride or die. Literally ."

Marty jumped up from her chair, her eyes wide. "Shut the front door! Do you mean Hervé can fly?"

Greer smiled, the grooves on either side of his mouth deepening. "I do."

Herve danced across the brick floor with a little shimmy. "I am an asset!" he sang.

But Robbie blanched. "Like Hocus Pocus , Sanderson-sisters flying broom?"

His reply was simple. "Yes."

Glory be. "That's insane."

Tottington, who'd been in a state of quiet shock, finally spoke. "What part of this is more insane than what we just witnessed, Roberta?"

Robbie nodded. "Not untrue, but…" But what ? She'd run out of buts.

"Listen, Robbie. Can I call you Robbie?" When she nodded, Greer continued. "This is all a lot to deal with, and I understand you're overwhelmed, but we have some imminent tasks to handle if we're going to figure out how to handle this."

"So what you're saying is, get my act together?"

Nina snorted. "Like that's going to happen anytime fucking soon. We still have at least another day of her whining and crying, ‘OMG, this isn't really happening' malarky. Good luck with your fucking imminence."

Robbie straightened, determined to prove to Nina she wasn't as soft as the vampire (was she the vampire? Or was she the half vampire, half werewolf? Their labels were fuzzy) thought.

She was no shrinking violet. Robbie wasn't so sure why it was important to prove to Nina she wasn't a sissy, but for some reason, she was the one Robbie least wanted to see her sweat.

She'd been doing this all her life. Proving herself to people. Proving her family's money didn't make her an insensitive snob. Proving she could live up to expectations. Proving she could keep her mouth shut until she exploded.

Proving.

Slapping her thighs with resolve, Robbie rose from her chair. "Okay, so let's get on with it then. What do we have to do that's so imminent?"

Greer rose, too, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Dig up my grandmother's grave."

Werewolves, vampires, witches, fire-breathing hands, talking brooms—sure, okay. She was coming to terms with this madness.

But digging up someone's grave?

That hadn't been on her bingo card today.