VenCo(53)

Meena leaned back against the headrest and looked at Wendy, beautiful in the soft light from the parking lot.

“You know what else this means?”

Meena sighed. “What else?”

“That it’s time to bring in the others, about the deadline. You can’t keep trying to puzzle this out by yourself when we’re running out of time.”

Meena sighed again. “It’s just—I want to inspire belief, you know? I’m asking these people to believe in something unbelievable. How can I do that when I’m not completely confident, completely in control?”

Wendy grabbed her hand. “But six of us are here now. You did it, you gathered us, and now you need to trust that we believe in the spoons, in the coven, in you. Maybe that’s how we find the seventh—together.”

Meena squeezed her hand and leaned in, like she was about to say something profound. “You think we have time for a quickie?”

Wendy laughed and was just about to kiss her wife when the pub door swung open. Lucille stood in the entrance, a scowl on her face.

“Shit, we’ve been found out.” Wendy reached for her door handle. “We should talk to the others, anyway.”

Lucky and Freya were just coming through the trees from the water, hand in hand. Lucille gave them a scowl, too, holding the door wide for all the loose witches to get back inside.

“Hey, Meena!” Lucky yelled as Meena pressed the fob to lock the car. She wavered a bit on her feet. “Who the fuck are these Bellinis?”

Freya laughed so hard she had to hang onto her sides. It was a good thing they were staying the night, Meena thought. “Yeah, tell us all about the Bellinis!” she added.

Meena smirked at Wendy over the top of the Audi. “You’re right. It’s time to finish the story. I’m not sure these drunk assholes will remember, but I’ll tell them anyway.”



Inside, the music was still loud, Stella was still dancing, and Morticia was still online. Freya plucked the phone out of her hands and threw it on the bar, guiding Morticia to the dance floor and picking up where she had left off—all chaos and wide spins. Lucky was pouring a shot down her throat at the bar, and Lucille was counting the empty glasses she’d been stacking beside the register.

“We almost there, or what?” Meena asked the Tender.

“Three-quarters of the way. Drink up.” Lucille put two more gins on the bar and watched as Wendy and Meena polished them off, both grimacing. “Almost there.”

Meena didn’t understand the math Tenders used, the ways they read the signs, but she knew enough not to question Lucille. Tenders were, after all, the alchemists of the community, as well as being master strategists. In the early days, Lucille had helped her decipher the dreams. On her first visit to the Trout, Lucille told her, “You need to get yourself one of those antique atlases. Dreams tend to be a little old-fashioned. Oh, and ask for an upgrade, for chrissakes.”

“An upgrade?” Meena was confused.

“Yeah, like how you upgrade your software. Ask for a new program. Get a later version, one that you can read better.”

“It’s not like there’s a customer service hotline. How in the hell do I do that?”

Lucille had rolled her eyes and got up from the wooden table to grab them another round. “Be a better witch, for starters.”

So she had done just that, making a trip to VenCo headquarters in LA to seek help. Now her dreams were like postcards mailed to her from the location of the spoons by the women who carried them. Turns out, it was about how she filtered the messages as they arrived in sleep that influenced how they were shown. She trusted Tenders, especially Lucille. Tenders and witches went together like macaroni and cheese. They needed each other and had an uncanny sense when it came to sniffing each other out.

Lucille poured another round. Meena took a deep breath and slammed it back. Then she clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. All it did was set the other women off, clapping along to the Hank Williams Jr. tune pouring into the pub. She looked back at Lucille, who nodded and pulled the plug on the jukebox. Before the women could start whining, Meena raised her voice.

“Alright, everyone, can we all sit together for a minute? I want to update everyone on where we’re at.”

“We’re at Trout’s,” Freya yelled, pumping her arms. “Best bar in Buzz Bay, baby!” She whooped, and Lucky whooped too. The others, more experienced with when to take it down a notch, did not join in.

“Fine,” Freya said, and ambled over to the bar’s largest table.

Meena stood while they sat, Lucille watching from the bar as she stacked the empty shot glasses into an intricate pyramid, stopping to count off on her fingers now and then.

“I need to tell you more, and I need to tell you now,” Meena began. Christ, how was she going to do this? She had to keep one eye closed just to stop their faces from blurring.

“We’re on a clock here. There is a finite amount of time to assemble the coven once it begins. Years.”

“That’s a pretty generous timeline,” Lucky called out. “We’re on six already. How many years left?”

“Not years, Lucky.”

“Okay then, how many months? Months are still good.”

“Nine.”

“Alright, nine months, I mean, a whole-ass kid can be made and born in nine months.”