VenCo(49)

“No one,” Lucille replied, as if it had been a real question. “None of us are capable of arguing with the universe.”

Stella and Freya came out of the bathroom just then and sidled up to the bar. Lucille grabbed one of the full shot glasses and each woman did the same. She lifted hers high and called out, “Drink up, witches!”

And the witches drank.



There was a jukebox that Lucille had set up to play without quarters, so inevitably a sing-along happened. Johnny Cash and Diana Ross demanded it. The shots kept coming. Nothing else was served, not even when Wendy begged for a plain old beer. “Come on, it’s not like you have to make it. Just twist the damn top. Hell, I’ll twist it myself—I won’t even dirty a glass.”

“Vodka and gin. The end.” Lucille was conducting this ritual, and it was getting sloppy.

Stella loved it. She drank half as much as everyone else, except maybe Freya, who winced every time she took a sip. But the two of them sang the loudest and were the ones who instigated the dancing, swinging each other wildly across the uneven floor.

“Careful, you’ll call down a storm with those moves,” Wendy yelled to them from the bar.

“Really?” Lucky was, by this point, wide-eyed and awed. “Can we do that?”

“No, we sure as hell cannot.” Wendy laughed so hard she had to rush to the bathroom to avoid pissing her pants.

Meena watched her waddle-run across the bar and smiled. “God, I love that woman.”

“I’m leaking!” Wendy screamed, pushing open the door to the toilet.

“Yup.” Lucky nodded. “She’s a real keeper.”

Lucille leaned over and put two full shot glasses in front of them. They groaned in response. Before Lucky could grab hers, Meena picked them both up and indicated with her chin that Lucky was to follow her. She headed to the table that was the farthest from the group.

“I wanted to get back to our earlier conversation.”

“What the hell were we talking about earlier?” Lucky had had enough vodka to reset her memory. For a moment, she wondered if this was what it was like to be Stella—off guard, forever catching up, and a bit euphoric.

“About your mother, Arnya.”

“Oh man, she would love this.” Lucky laughed. “All of this—witches, adventure, this bar. Especially this bar.”

“She is a bit of a free spirit, I gather.” Meena slid the shot glass over, and they clinked them together and took the shot.

“Yeah, I guess you could call her that. She was, anyway.”

“She’s settled down, has she? Happens to some of us when we age.”

“Oh, she settled down, alright. Right the fuck down. She died.”

Meena was taken aback. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

“Uh, let’s see. I was like nine, ten. So about eighteen years. I’ve been without her for almost twice as long as I had her.” She looked around the bar, sudden and unexpected tears threatening. Fucking vodka, she thought. She never cried about her mother, hardly then and certainly not now. But it was true, Arnya would have dug this. If it had been her, she would have left from the food court on Freya’s arm and gotten on the first flight to Salem, provided someone else was paying, of course. Lucky kind of felt guilty, like she was stealing an adventure not meant for her.

“That brooch, the one you wore to dinner, that was hers?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing special, really. She never had anything valuable.” Lucky leaned her elbows on the table. “If you really like it, I mean . . .”

“It’s just—I think it’s connected somehow.”

“Connected to what?”

“To this, I suppose. To us—the coven, certainly to tonight.”

Freya suddenly appeared beside them. “Come on, come dance with us. Quit being all serious over here.”

“No, no. I don’t want to. I’m tired.” Lucky laid her head on her forearms. Freya started tugging at her.

“Oh, come on. It’s not even late.”

“I’m so old, just leave me here . . .”

“Shut the hell up!” Freya commanded, and Lucky allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and onto the dance floor they’d cleared in the centre of the room. Freya spun her to Patsy Cline. Stella clapped and laughed, and Lucky forgot about everything except the music and her happy grandmother.



Wendy had returned to the bar and was sneaking a glass of water from the tap when Meena came up behind her. “We need to talk.”

She jumped. “Oh Jesus, babe, you scared me. I thought you were Lucille come to tell me I was messing with her ceremony because I don’t want to die from alcohol poisoning.” She chugged the water, keeping an eye on Meena, who was chewing her lip, eyes far away. When she’d downed the entire thing, she placed the empty glass in the sink. “You look worried.”

“I think I may have found the seventh witch.”

Wendy grabbed her by the elbows. “What? That’s great! So soon?”

Meena didn’t return the smile. “Yeah, but it’s not good news.”





19

A Busted Wizard