VenCo(82)

She looked down, and the alligator had flattened into a painting of an alligator, making a circle with tail to mouth. His eye had lost its focus and its menace. The creature was harmless now. And she knew it was alone. Something in the look left in that one yellow orb was lonely. Was longing. Was waiting.

A weak light as if from a hanging lamp did its best to illuminate the background. It was resolved into a checkerboard of red-and-white large-checked gingham, like a tablecloth. And around the painted image of the circular gator were forks, spread out with their tines facing outward like a silver halo. Forks, not spoons?

She woke up all at once, confused and still perched over the bowl. Outside, the sky was fully dark. She knew the spoon was in New Orleans. She also knew, from the gator’s loneliness, that the witch it belonged to hadn’t found it yet.



Lettie gathered the others and explained what she had seen. The gator, the forks, the streetcar bell. “The spoon is in New Orleans.”

“So you heard the bell? I thought we were supposed to see things?” Morticia was grouchy. It was the middle of the night, and she had just gotten to sleep.

“Seeing is different than seeing,” Wendy answered.

“That’s super helpful, thanks.” Morticia got up to refill her coffee mug.

Meena was pacing around the kitchen in a green robe covered in velvet vines. “This is great, Lettie. We now have the specific location, like, down to the building, is my guess.”

Meena’s certainty spooked Lettie. “But what if I’m wrong? What if it was just a dream?”

“It was pretty clear, even so. I say we call Lucky right away.” And she took her phone out and started dialing. She put it on speakerphone, and the women fell silent, waiting.

“Hello?” Lucky’s voice sounded far away, and the line was full of static.

“Lucky? This is Meena. Well, this is everyone. You’re on speaker.”

“Oh thank god! I’ve been trying to get you guys for hours. Stella and I had a hell of a time with the Yarb witch . . .”

“Lucky, listen, we have some news.”

“We have news too. We just got back on the highway. Finally got service. I was just about to try you again.”

“Where are you headed?”

“South—New Orleans. The Yarb witch sent us there. The location was on an egg.”

“Oh thank god. Listen, Lettie had a vision of New Orleans too.”

“I think it was New Orleans!” Lettie yelled.

“She heard a streetcar and remembered being there as a child. But if the Witch sent you, that means Lettie was right. Listen, we don’t want to scare you.” She paused, looking over at Wendy, who gave her a solemn nod. They had the final location, and Lucille had been killed. It was time. “The Benandanti was here.”

There was silence.

“Lucky?”

“I’m here. That’s why I was trying to call . . . He was here.”

Meena grabbed the phone in both hands and shouted. “What! What do you mean he was there? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. It was weird, but we’re okay. May came home and— Wait, how was he just there? How could he be there and then here?”

The Salem witches looked around sheepishly, not wanting to speak. It was Meena who answered. “Lucky, I am sorry. I made a call. I thought if he was here, you were safe. I told the others not to tell you. He was here days ago.”

Lucky’s voice sounded even more distant now. “Well, we’re going to go straight to New Orleans. I have to make sure Stella doesn’t look at anything.”

Remembering old Yarb tales, Meena sighed. “Stella sneezed, didn’t she?”

“She sure did.”

“Do you want one of us to jump on a flight down there?” Behind her, Freya and Morticia raised their hands.

“No. We’re good on our own, always have been,” Lucky said.

Meena picked up on the anger in her words. “Well, when you get there, go to the Olivier House in the Quarter. We’ll book you guys a suite. And, Lucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

There was a tension across the miles. No one spoke for a minute.

Finally, Wendy stepped in to finish. “Oh, Lucky, one more thing. You’re going to be looking for an alligator.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes. Of course there’s an alligator.”

“I’ll send you the name of a Booker in town. They might be able to help if you need it,” Wendy added. Meena had walked away from the others, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes far away. She didn’t know how to make this right.

“Great,” Lucky said. “Also, has anyone else been having some real intense dreams lately?”

Wendy smiled. “Yes, Lucky, we all have. Meena told us that the VenCo Oracle was going to ‘lend us some focus,’ I believe is how they put it.”

“Oh.” She sounded confused. “Sweet, I guess.” There was a moment when all they heard was the sound of the road and Stella snoring in the background. “Wendy?”

“Yes, Lucky?”

“Is Meena still there?”

Wendy looked over at her wife, who stood by the window. “She is.”