VenCo(79)

“He’s gone now, so you’re safe. Caught wind I was coming back, probably.”

Lucky thought of the trees being tossed about outside the house—that was how he must have known May was on the way.

While Lucky and May tried to figure out what to do next, Stella was taken with the mobile made of butterfly corpses spinning in slow circles in front of the living room window.

“Are these magic butterflies?” She blew gently to make them move.

“Aren’t all butterflies magic?” May mused.

“Huh, I suppose they are. Ozzy preferred moths. Crazy old bugger.” Stella laughed.

“Miss Stella, you need to be a part of this conversation now. You’re on this trip too and we don’t want him being able to use you to get to your grandbaby here.”

“If Oz could come back to visit, maybe he’d come as a moth.” Stella felt the wings of a monarch with the tips of her fingers.

“Oh, never you mind, he’s never far from you,” May said. “Now, come, sit.”

“How did Ricky let you know we were coming?” Lucky asked. She hadn’t seen a phone in the cabin, or a computer.

“I was visiting my people in the holler, woke up this morning and dropped a dish rag.”

Lucky was confused. “You dropped a rag? How did a rag tell you we were coming?”

May collected the empty mugs from the table and brought them to the kitchen sink. “Just did. And it was real specific too. Landed all balled up, so I knew it would be women. Plus, my nose was itchin’ like mad. But somehow his visit went un-warned.”

“Do you think butterflies are dead people?” Stella was back in her chair at the table, but her eyes were still on the mobile.

“Honey, I think lots of things are dead people. I think we’re made up of ’em.”

Stella looked at her own hands as if there were bits of crematory ash stuck under her nails. Lucky thought of her mom.

May sighed. “Let’s pull ourselves together now, so we can look for your spoon.”

They sat up straighter, and there was silence for a minute, even from Stella.

“You had any troubling dreams of late?” May asked.

“I dreamed of a snake,” Lucky replied.

“Snakes in dreams mean there’s a battle comin’. Was the snake on the attack?”

“No.” Lucky could see its filmy eyes, blown wide. “It was dead. Under Ricky’s hat. On the side of the road.”

May brought her hands together, lacing her fingers. “Might be someone should check on Ricky.” She cleared her throat.

“I dreamed about a moth,” Stella interrupted.

Lucky gave her a tight smile. “Maybe you think you did? Because you were just talking about—”

“I was talking about them because I dreamed about one. I’m not a moron,” Stella snapped.

Lucky’s eyes opened wide, but her mouth stayed closed. This was a tone she remembered well from childhood.

“Was the moth grey?” May asked.

“Yes.” Stella closed her eyes to picture it. “Long and almost narrow, with its wings closed.”

“That’s a money miller. You are going to come into some riches soon enough.” May patted the back of Stella’s hand by way of congratulations. “You should visit me after that happens upon you.” She cackled a bit. “But for now, take the snake as warnin’. I would guess, after today’s visitor, that the battle is about him.”

“That’s a safe bet,” Lucky sneered.

“Which means, if what he wants is the spoon—or, at least, to stop y’all from grabbin’ the spoon—then wherever this battle is gonna happen is probably where the spoon can be found,” May said, trying to piece it all together.

“So, my dream is of a snake.” Lucky had to take it step-by-step. “And snakes mean a fight is coming. And the fight will be over the spoon. Then if we figure out where that fight will happen, then we know where the spoon is?”

May pushed her chair back and rose again, turning to the shelves to collect various jars. She took a pinch from one and a sprinkle from another and finally a stem from a third, placed all the ingredients into a stone mortar, and crushed them together with a heavy metal pestle at the counter.

“You go out behind the cabin now, Lucky. Walk straight from under the bedroom window to those cedars out back. Just past the first trees, you’ll come up to a henhouse. Go in and grab an egg. Don’t spend too long choosing, just grab the one that you can’t help but see. You’ll know when you find it. Then carry it back here, careful.”

Lucky stood. She did not want to go traipsing through the field. She sure as hell did not want to be crawling into an old henhouse. And she did not want to get pecked as some kind of egg thief. But she didn’t say a word. She just zipped up her hoodie and, with a passing look at her grandmother, who was cleaning her fingernails with the car key, left through the front door.

The grass was taller behind the cabin. “Here’s hoping May has something for ticks in one of those jars.” She shuddered just thinking it. Ticks weren’t something she had experience with. She imagined insects the size of mice clinging to her thighs by sharp yellow teeth and took high steps across the field, heading for the cedars.

Once again, she found herself in an improbable place—sent to retrieve some sort of magical egg from a hillbilly’s henhouse in buttfuck Missouri with the Benandanti on the hunt. She was well into the woods, which were swarming with a whole bomber team of newly hatched mosquitoes, before she saw the henhouse. It was all rotted wood and slanted roof, surrounded by a tall wire fence. It didn’t seem predator proof, but maybe that was the job of the small leather pouch hanging over the coop doorway. She fumbled with the latch and opened the gate.