Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

A s they pushed open the door to her apartment, Robbie didn't breathe a sigh of relief the way she'd once done in her Manhattan apartment. That sounded snobby because, of course, it had been a high-rise with a view of all of Manhattan, but that wasn't what she missed most. She missed her haven—her nest. She'd turned that high-rise into a vintage farmhouse delight.

She'd done her best to make this feel like home, but it was a shithole. There was no denying that, and no matter how much lipstick she put on this pig, it didn't change the fact that only so much could be done.

She'd grabbed some cute knickknacks from the Dollar General with her paltry paycheck, but a candle holder and some baskets were never going to make this place feel cozy. No throw pillow or warm blanket would give her the comfort she craved in a home.

But she had her dignity, her integrity intact. No high-rise apartment could give her that.

Nina whistled as they entered her small living room with a worn plaid couch she'd gotten at Goodwill for fifty bucks, the stuffing spilling out of one of the cushions she'd so carefully duct-taped in a fun pink, and a TV tray she used as an end table.

"Man, what a shithole, huh? I thought you were rich?"

Robbie let her shoulders sag in defeat as she trudged through the living room into her bedroom, where her three musketeers were circling each other on the faded quilt on her bed, meowing like their lives were in imminent danger.

She gave them each a scratch on the head and booped their noses before looking for her hairbrush. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Robbie cringed.

Pieces of her almost waist-length hair, now more than ever, needed a trim. They hung in a straggly, singed ball of a mess against the side of her head, sticking up in sporadic places, making it look as though she'd just been run through a car wash.

And she'd just dyed it a cute strawberry-blonde, too. But no amount of Garnier Nutrisse was going to help this. Her eyes minus any makeup looked haunted, her pale skin eerily translucent, her clothes rumpled.

Marty was right. She needed a brush. Giving her hair a quick run-through, she cursed the thickness of it as she gathered it into a high pony. Smoothing back the sides until there was only a small, patchy bald spot.

Nina poked her head into her bedroom, her eyes giving it the once over. "So tell me again why you live in this shithole?"

Wanda knocked Nina on the shoulder. "Please. For once, say nothing. It's always so much more pleasant when your lips are zipped."

The vampire made a face. "I'm just sayin', if she's rich, why's she fucking living in this cave of salty tears and desperation?"

Robbie headed out to her little kitchen with the uneven countertops and crooked cabinet doors to get some cat food. "Because I left it all behind for my freedom and this paradise." She spread her arms wide. "Isn't freedom beautiful?"

Grabbing the cat food bag from a cabinet, she began filling bowls. Her three torties heard the sound of their food and came running, scampering into the kitchen, dutifully lining up.

"Not ready to talk about it yet?" Marty asked as she knelt down and stroked Porthos's back. She purred as she scratched her ears, humming her pleasure.

Robbie shrugged. She'd distanced herself from the mess of her family, and while it should hurt to have been rejected much more than it did, when she left, she realized they'd rejected her from the start. Essentially, she'd become numb to being excluded.

"There's nothing to talk about, really. My mother, who holds all the purse strings in my family, is a deplorable human being. When I told her she was a dreadful human being, she fired me from my cushy job as head of PR and left me with nothing. End story."

"Holy shit!" Nina crowed as she held up her phone, obviously having finally Googled her. "Your fucking Agatha Tisdale's kid? Your mother owns a chain of luxury hotels, right? Looks like she's in some deep shit for skimming money from charity donations."

Swallowing hard, Robbie nodded. They were going to find out anyway. She might as well be honest. "Yes. That's me, and yes, she's in the middle of an investigation with the IRS, among other government agencies. It's a long story, but the short of it is, my mother was funneling donations made for a charity she owned, meant for a children's hospital, and using those donations elsewhere. It's sort of long and complicated, but suffice it to say, she stole from sick children. Some terminally ill. Children who I…"

She shook her head to ward off the nightmare.

"That was all I needed to know. Now I live here, in paradise," she said with sarcasm.

But damned if she wouldn't do it all over again.

Nina cocked her head as she scooped up Aramis and gave him a snuggle, to which her cat responded by tucking his head under the vampire's chin and melting into her. "So you ditched millions of dollars for this shit?"

She looked at the inspirational picture she'd hung on her kitchen wall that read: It Is Well , to remind herself she was more well here than she'd ever been with her mother.

"It's closer to a billion," she corrected. "And I ditched it so I could keep my soul intact and sleep at night."

And so all those beautiful children and parents she loved and missed so much would hopefully hate her a little less.

Wanda's face went sympathetic as she squeezed Robbie's shoulder. "Oh, Robbie, I'm so sorry."

Inhaling deeply, Robbie put the cat food away in the upper cabinet, giving the door a hard shove to keep it closed, hoping they wouldn't see the sting of tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She hated revisiting that part of her life. The guilt-by-association thing would always haunt her.

Swiping at her eyes with her thumb, she stood up straight and turned to face them. "Don't be sorry. Agatha Tisdale's getting exactly what she deserves and then some. I hope they lock her up and throw away the key. She's a despicable human being, and I'm beginning to believe karma just might be a real thing."

Nina stared at her, her eyes scanning Robbie's face long enough to make her shudder. Talk about feeling seen. "Where's your brother in all this? Steadman's his name, right?"

Her brother. It made her skin crawl just knowing they were blood. He was as disgusting as her mother, but in a much different way. He was a misogynistic scumbag who did very little in the way of work and a whole lot more in the way of spending money and jet-setting. She'd spent a good portion of her adult working life writing up press releases filled with bullshit excuses for her brother's bad behavior.

Robbie wrinkled her nose. "Hanging on to her skirts, still blindly devoted to her, I guess. Or at least devoted to her money. I have no idea. I haven't heard from him since I got dumped out of the nest. I mean, I would have left anyway. My mother just beat me to the punch."

She tried to keep her tone offhand about her brother. They'd never been close. He was as much a worm as her mother, but somewhere deep inside, she thought he'd at least check on her. It was ridiculous, considering he was likely eyeball deep in the mess her mother was in, but she'd always thought he at least loved Tottington as much as she did.

Apparently not.

"So you're telling us you didn't know shit about what she was doing?" Nina asked, rolling her tongue along her cheek, her eyes decidedly skeptical.

Robbie was used to this reaction, but she wasn't going to defend herself anymore. Even though she knew nothing about what her mother had done, there was always the niggle that she should have known, and it kept her up at night.

She'd probably have to defend herself in court at some point, but for now, she was exhausted from trying to prove to people she was innocent.

Thus, she kept her words simple. "I was in public relations, not accounting. I handled events and anything related to the image of the hotels. When I refused to ‘handle' this debacle by writing up a press release of fancy, evasive words—all essentially lies—and speak to the media after I was shown the actual proof of what she'd been doing, I left."

Tottington cleared his throat. "Roberta speaks the truth. She's a kind, wonderful woman. Had she known what Mrs. Tisdale was doing, she would have put a stop to it."

Nina draped her arm around Tottington's shoulders and pulled him to her side. "And where do you fit into all this, my little Tater Tot?"

Robbie almost laughed out loud when T blanched. It was only a little hysterical that this beast of a woman had taken such a liking to someone so genteel and standoffish.

She smiled warmly at the one person who'd never left her. "Tottington has been with me since I was three. My mother hired him as sort of my manny, and then he evolved into an integral part of the household, managing all things mansion-ish. But he also became my friend, my confidant. When I left, he opted to come with me."

They'd never talked about it, but T was a big part of her life, a treasured part of her life. Sometimes, she thought maybe he'd come with her to ensure her safety from the big, bad, scary world. She'd never lived far from her family or the security their money and name brought. Robbie guessed he felt as though it was his duty to protect her, despite her being a fully grown adult.

But when she'd given her goodbye speech, he'd followed her right out the door and into this dreadful apartment, where he'd never faltered. He was the same old Tottington, still wearing a crisp suit, his hair trimmed to within an inch of its life, minus the silver platter with which he delivered the mail to her mother.

Tottington, who rarely showed much more than disdain for anything, gave her a small but tender smile. "Thank you, Miss."

"Anyway, I didn't know anything about what my mother was up to, but I never felt like I was allowed in their inner circle to begin with. You can either believe that or not."

"You got balls, kiddo," Nina praised, gathering up Athos for some love. "Couldn't have been easy to leave all that dough." She held up her cat, scratching under his chin. "Mommy's a bad mamma jamma, huh, snooks?"

Clearly, Marty hadn't been lying about Nina's love of animals. On the way over they'd told her all about their pets and Nina's dog, Waffles, and an angel named George who owned a rescue with her husband, Dex.

But she hadn't been entirely convinced Nina wouldn't eat her cats until she saw how sweet she was with her brood.

Greer had stayed quiet for most of the time they'd been in her apartment, probably trying to bite his tongue to keep from gasping at the tragic state of the place. But as Porthos wound her tail around his calves, he sat on his haunches and stroked her back until she hummed her pleasure.

"What's your name, beauty?"

"That's Porthos."

He smiled. "Like a musketeer?"

Robbie nodded with a smile. "She's a female, though. They're all from the same litter, but I couldn't resist keeping the theme going."

"Why not Milady de Winter…or Constance?"

"You read?" So much of her life had been spent in a world created by a writer in order to escape the reality of being a Tisdale. It was nice to find someone else who enjoyed reading.

He grinned as he picked up Porthos and cuddled her. "I love to read. I feel like that surprises you."

She laughed. "I didn't name her Milady de Winter because, first, she was a traitor. Second, it's a mouthful when you have to call them all for dinner. Oh, and I have a cousin Connie who's as horrible as my mother."

"Gotcha."

Wanda held up a finger as she looked at her phone. "Hang on—this is January calling." She hitched her jaw toward Robbie's bedroom. "May I?"

"Of course."

As Wanda went off to talk to the doctor, Robbie couldn't keep her eyes from the plastic Twister mat, still on the floor, the planchette in the corner of the room where she'd thrown it after it zapped her.

"So that's the perp?" Greer asked, one eyebrow raised.

"That's it." A nervous habit had her reaching for a strand of hair to twirl around her finger and wondering if it would now grow back the way Nina's had.

She guessed as a witch, she wasn't afforded the ability to regrow her hair like a vampire. Nina's hair was almost down to her shoulder now, and Robbie's was still singed. "Any idea how your grandmother put her magic into that thing?"

Greer sighed and shook his head. "I don't have any idea how any of this is happening, but I'd have to guess that planchette went with a Ouija board at one time, and Gwinnifer owned it. Any idea who lived here before you?"

"Probably not your grandmother. If she abused her powers to gain riches, I have to think this wasn't her idea of ‘rich'. But I could ask Mrs. Campisi if she remembers. She's been here forever, according to her."

He set Porthos on the ground and stooped to pick up the planchette, turning it over in his hand. "I guess it doesn't really matter. It's my grandmother's magic in your hand, no matter how the planchette got here."

"But if that is from your grandmother's Ouija board, maybe the person who had the apartment before her knows something that will help us find out if she's alive."

Without digging her up. Because full-body chills, thank you very much.

She really didn't want to dig up this woman's grave, no matter how horrible she was. If they could avoid that, she wouldn't be mad.

He nodded his agreement, making the scent of his shampoo waft to her nose. "You're absolutely right. Let's ask Mrs. Campisi then."

Tucking her left hand against her chest, she wondered, "How long has your grandmother been…gone?"

He looked down at the floor and its ugly green shag carpet straight outta the '70s. "Almost five years."

She reached out and touched his arm briefly, careful not to linger even if his forearm, for a forearm anyway, was ridiculously sexy. "I'm sorry, Greer."

He looked at her then, forcing her eyes upward. "Don't be. I, much like you with your mother, despised Gwinnifer. She was an insidious woman who deserved to be expunged. I have my fingers crossed that this is all some sort of crazy fluke, and she'll still be in that grave where she belongs."

"But you don't know of any other reason her magic would still be alive, if you will, unless she was alive, too?" That made her shiver.

Greer took her hand, squeezing her fingers. "I've never heard of it occurring before, and I know I keep saying that like some broken record, but I honestly don't know of any other way this could be happening. Her magic should have died along with her physical body."

"Can someone else keep it alive?"

"I've never heard of that happening. Never ."

Trying not to melt right in front of him from nothing more than a fleeting touch, Robbie gently removed her fingers from his and cleared her throat.

"So, let's say she's still unalive and this is some fluke. What does that mean for me? Do I get in trouble for having her magic? Is it considered stolen, like some kind of witch felony? Do I keep this magic? Will I always set people's hair on fire? I can't go around with the hand of doom forever. Someone's going to get hurt."

He chuckled, his eyes dancing. "Sorry, but the hand of doom? Clever. Though on a serious note, no to almost all of your worries. No, it's not a felony. No, you won't get into trouble. However, yes, I think by default, it's your magic now, and you'll learn to control it. I'll teach you how. If this magic really is Gwinnifer's, you won't believe the things you'll be able to do."

She thought about that for a second. "What if I don't want to do the things, Greer? As you can see, my life's in a bit of turmoil as it is. I live in a dump. I have a job that barely pays the rent and buys us barely enough ramen noodles for a week. What if I don't want to be a witch?"

He looked at her for a moment, his expression gentle. "What if I told you that a whole new community awaits you? People who will embrace you with open arms? What if I told you that I'd lay bets you won't be saying that in six months?"

"What if I'm not alive in six months because Granny wants her groove back?"

As he was about to answer, Wanda came out of the bedroom, waving her phone. "Word from January. Gather 'round, people."

"January was Nina's psychiatrist, right?" Greer said. "I wonder why I've never heard of her."

"I think you travel in different circles," Wanda said. "The good doctor's a white witch. A different variety than you, if I understood her correctly, because she has heard of you."

Robbie sank to her dilapidated couch, tightening the grip on her right hand. "I don't understand. Does this mean I'm a bad witch?" Gwinnifer was a horror story; maybe now she was, too.

Greer sat next to her, their thighs touching. "No. You're not bad. What that means is, white witches are selfless beings and practice only for the service of others. They're incapable of bringing harm to anyone. Traditional witches, of which you're now considered, have a broader spectrum of magic that can be used for both positive and negative results. Hexes, bad spells and so on. But we have a strict code of honor amongst us. We can't use our magic for personal gain, as was the case with Gwinnifer, and we follow the do-no-harm philosophy."

Robbie gave him a blank stare as she processed this, tucking her hand tighter under her armpit. "Okay, so I can turn someone into a toad, but I probably shouldn't."

He winked with a handsome smile. "Unless it's warranted, no. You shouldn't. However, you have far greater powers than a white witch will ever possess."

She leaned forward and eyeballed him. "Like?"

"Like things we'll discuss later, when you're less anxious over what's happened. Because it's a lot to take in all at once."

"I feel like this isn't ever not going to be a lot to take in, Greer."

"I promise you, Robbie, it might take some time, but it's going to be okay." Then he looked to Wanda. "So what did January say?"

Wanda looked right at him. "She said she knows of your grandmother. Apparently, Gwinnifer's legend is global, but she doesn't know anything other than some gossip she's heard." She sounded as though she were baiting Greer, but Robbie couldn't figure out why or about what.

With a sigh, Greer didn't take whatever bait Wanda offered. He stood and looked at them all. "Okay then. Are you all comfortable enough to let me help? Because we need to find some answers fast before I go to the coven and explain this."

Wanda's nod was slow, but she agreed. "January did say she thought Gwinnifer was dead, too, but that if she's alive, she could wreak some mighty havoc."

"Then that settles that shit, right?" Nina said before she squared up with Greer. "But I'm warning you, GQ Cover Boy, if you fuck with us, I'll make your life pretty fucking ugly. I mean, I'll let you live, but you won't want to. And if anything happens to my new BFF Tater Tot, you'll pray for death."

Robbie had to fight a burst of laughter. Poor Tater Tot. He was so uncomfortable with this strange outpouring of affection from a woman who should have "curmudgeon" hyphened on her name. He had a new friend, and it was clear he didn't know what to do with her.

Greer lifted his chin and stared at Nina without flinching, admirable for sure. "Noted," he replied, his jaw tight.

Marty cleared her throat and put her body between Greer's and Nina's, clapping her hands. "Hey, save the duel for dawn, huh? We have work to do. Now scoot. Go pack a bag, Robbie. We'll gather up the cats and put them in the car to take back to Nina's. Skedaddle!"

As Robbie headed toward the bedroom to do as she was told, she suddenly remembered Hervé. "Wait, where's Hervé been all this time?"

When everyone went silent, she heard him purr quietly, "Oh, mi amore, why do you give Hervé ze silent treatment?"

She went directly to the pantry and popped the door open to the tiny space—to find Hervé winding his handle around her Swiffer, whispering words in French.

Her sigh came out ragged and tired. "Hervé, back away from the Swiffer! Now!"