CHAPTER NINE

Knowing how to break things was bad enough. Learning how to hurt people? Maybe she didn’t want to be a witch after all.

“Why? Why? That’s a terrible thing to know how to do—you want to turn me into a human taser?” Margo wailed.

Delphine shrugged apologetically. “Lilith had a special affinity for electricity. As a rule, it requires very strong anger to activate, which she could summon at will. It is a great irony that she died of a lightning strike. It was widely rumored that when there was an electrical storm about, she could redirect it toward whatever target suited her, human or otherwise.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Stop being a baby,” Lilith groaned. “The first order of life is to protect oneself. To be stronger than all adversaries. To fear no one.”

This was a bit stronger than Delphine would have framed it. Perhaps it would help to provide some context. “Lilith’s mother died shortly after her birth—like yours. But under suspicious circumstances. Lilith had to be very mindful of the dangers and enemies that surround us. She recommends that you look upon this as a self-defense class. Hopefully, you’ll never need it. But if you do . . .”

Margo shook her head. “I’ll be able to touch someone and zap them with electricity?”

“Well, yes. Not unlike static electricity—but with quite a bit more voltage. Of course, Lilith didn’t have to be close enough to touch. She could send someone a jolt from a considerable distance. I witnessed it myself once. But again, she was formidable. It’s likely you’ll always have to touch whatever you are . . . zapping.”

Reluctantly, Margo agreed to acquire this latest skill. Lilith’s heart had given her life, and freedom, and courage. It seemed ungracious to reject all the other things that came with it.

Delphine directed Margo to keep one hand on her pendant and the other holding a sheet of paper, chanting Nesploro Fiere, and she gave her instructions to go to the polar opposite of her happy place. In order to summon her inner Lilith, Margo needed to get good and mad. Not as easy as it sounded.

“Have you ever had a terrible boss?” Delphine offered helpfully.

“No. I did have a few jobs before opening the theater. But they were all so sweet to me. Probably because they knew about the heart problem. My employers really looked out for me—very considerate, all of them.”

“What about family? Relatives? Rivalries, disputes, backstabbing?”

“Bette is my only relative now. She’s been an angel. I couldn’t have made it without her.”

“Exes? Nasty jerk boyfriends?”

“There weren’t that many. And they weren’t such bad fellows. Actually, I just met someone. We don’t really know each much about each other, but . . .” Margo’s mind drifted off into engrossing reveries.

It was time to get tough. “A man was killed in your friend’s restaurant, and they weren’t just content to kill. No, they had to make sure that another person took the fall. Right now, they’ve got their feet up somewhere, glass of scotch in hand, thinking what a pathetic sap your friend Russell is and not feeling a shred of guilt because Russell’s life was worthless and insignificant. Disposable. They think about him in a six by ten cell. And they laugh. They are laughing.”

Margo bristled. That was probably close enough to the truth. Someone had callously, inexcusably framed Russell for murder and was now just twiddling their thumbs, waiting for him to be tried and found guilty and given a life sentence. Whoever it was, she could just . . .

“Nesploro Fiere! Nesploro Fiere! Nesploro Fiere!”

The paper burst into flame. She tossed it into the nearby sink, her own eyes still ablaze with anger.

“Oh, my dear,” Delphine said admiringly. “I was sure that would take you a few weeks. But you’re a natural.”

“I just got so mad,” Margo said haltingly.

“I told you, don’t fear your anger and don’t suppress it. It can be channeled into power. It’s true for all witches, but especially so for Lilith Hazelwood. And you have exhibited some of her most distinctive tendencies.”

“I wish she had been a whiz at solving murders.”

“She’s thinking about that young man in jail again,” Lilith groused. “It is my murder that she should turn her attention to. You must explain to her exactly what her duty is to me and that she owes her life and all of her powers to me.”

“Let her strength grow first. Today was an important step. And her courage grows daily. But her ability still lags behind her courage, and there’s no telling what danger that could put her in.”

“Discourage all distractions,” Lilith demanded.

“Why don’t I walk you back to your shop?” Margo offered. “I’ve got to pick up a few things at the store for tonight. My new friend Finn is coming over. I think you’d like him.”

Lilith’s groan was so loud, it sent Newhart running for shelter.

*****

Bette was thrilled that Finn was scheduled to arrive before she had to leave for her evening shift. On the one hand, she couldn’t be happier that Margo finally had a new fella in her life. At the same time, he’d better be a pretty spectacular guy. Not just any man was good enough for her little sister.

“I’ll get it! I’ll get it!” Bette yelled when the doorbell rang. She opened the door and could only shake her head at Margo’s good fortune. Absolutely, Mark Ruffalo.

“Hi, I’m Bette. You must be Finn. Come on in.”

“Enchante,” Finn responded. Margo had advised him that he would best endear himself to Bette by showing a little continental flair. She was right. Bette looked about to swoon.

“You speak French?” Bette gushed.

“I had to go to Paris to extradite a prisoner. Picked up a few essentials.”

“Cool. FBI or CIA?”

“FBI. Right out of college.”

“Ooh, America’s Most Wanted?”

Finn nodded modestly.

“Did you catch any?” Bette asked excitedly.

“We put a few away. I was on a good team.”

“But you’re retired. You’re awfully young. And how young, exactly, are you?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Siblings?”

“Two. Brother and a sister. Whole family still in Boston.”

“Brother? Good-looking single brother?”

Finn grinned. “Yeah, he’s single. It’s hard for me to say if he’s good-looking. He looks a lot like me.”

Bette gasped. Margo shook her head at her sister’s brazen lack of shame.

“And the vetting process is complete. You passed,” Bette informed him.

“Isn’t it time for you to get to work?” Margo scolded.

Bette didn’t object—the more time these two spent alone together, the juicier the details would be afterward. She could wait. After her departure, there was one more introduction to make.

“Remember what I told you about Newhart. I know it’s really difficult, but try to keep your feet away from him. He’s still so skittish about that.”

“I remembered. Your sister’s not the only one who is going to be blown away by my charm.”

Margo went to her room where she knew Newhart was luxuriating in his kitty bed. She brought him to Finn. Stroking him carefully, speaking to him softly, and preparing him for what would surely be a slightly jarring addition to his life, she set him gently on the floor.

“You just have a seat on the sofa and let him get used to the sight of you. Then when he’s ready, maybe we’ll put him in your lap so he doesn’t have to deal with the sight of your feet.”

Finn complied. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Uncle Finn is here. I think you’re gonna like me.”

Margo had expected Newhart to turn around and run into the next room. But he was looking at Finn very curiously. He inched closer and closer and then did something most remarkable. He made a beeline for Finn’s feet! He sniffed his shoes, batted them with his paws, sniffed them again, and then threw his body on top of Finn’s shoes and started snuggling against them. Margo watched in amazement. Newhart backed off the feet and started batting them again with his paws. And then he stretched on them again, tummy up, arms waving furiously in the air. Finn looked triumphant.

“What is going on?” Margo asked.

“Your cat appears to be a little under the influence. I may have overdone it a bit.”

“Is that . . . is that . . .? Did you put catnip on your shoes?”

Finn nodded guiltily. “How else do you make friends with a cat?”

“Not by drugging him.”

“I think he likes me though.”

“He’s inebriated.”

“Yeah, ya think he’s gonna have a little kitty hangover tomorrow?”

“You ought to be ashamed.”

But Margo wasn’t really irritated. Even this silly bickering with Finn was all part of a dream come true. A modest dream by most people’s standards, but one that she had sadly accepted would never be part of her reality. An intriguing young man was in her house, trying to impress her sister and her cat, all to ingratiate himself further with her. And they were going to spend the evening eating some homemade snacks and watching a scary movie. And who knew what else?

“What is that delectable smell?”

“Lobster quesadillas. I need to finish putting them together,” Margo said. “Don’t get Newhart into any more trouble.”

“I will not let him drive or operate machinery in his present condition.”

Margo was halfway to the kitchen when she turned. “Oh, what movie did you bring?”

“I brought something that, like Casablanca, is a true classic of American cinema. With timeless lessons of human endurance, courage, despair, hubris, and loyalty, a really unmatched encapsulation of the human experience.”

Margo raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Alien. Ah, I can tell this is going to be your first time. More like six or seven for me. It’s gonna blow you away. Guaranteed.”

As a film lover, Margo wasn’t sure that Alien should be mentioned in the same breath as Casablanca. But scary movies were a good test for the rapidly increasing strength of her new heart. And her regular old conventional human heart was being stretched to the limit as well. Finn was looking very good.

“We should probably eat by the half hour mark of the movie, ’cause after that, you may lose your appetite,” Finn warned. “Trust me.”

He turned out to be right. Margo flinched, shuddered, gasped, and peeked squeamishly through her fingers at the unspeakable monstrosity on the screen. And her heart pounded away like crazy. Who knew being scared could be this much fun?

Afterward, Finn could tell by the big grin on Margo’s face that he’d made a convert. “You’re a lucky, lucky woman.”

“How’s that?”

“There are four more Alien movies in your future. Maybe five.”

That made Margo grin even more. Finn was certainly implying that these were movies that they would watch together, their future being of much more interest than that of the Alien franchise.

“I don’t think Newhart appreciated the cat being in such danger,” Margo added. “I don’t know if he can handle five more Alien movies . . . but I can.”

Finn let out a deep breath. Ten years of traveling, high-risk assignments, and solitary nights had led to a greater appreciation for this evening than Margo could even have guessed. But she could see his mind was churning.

“Franc for your thoughts?” she gently nudged.

He reached over to her sparkly pink quartz pendant and gently rested his knuckles against her collarbone. “This has got to be the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“I bet you say that to all the necklaces.”

And then the kiss that had been floating in the air as an idea became a warm, sweet reality. Margo felt his arms slide around her and pulled her in close. Such warm hands. And warm lips. And a warm chest. At that moment, witchly powers paled in comparison to this very common, but incomparable connection.

But regrettably, they had to pull themselves away from it as Finn was obligated to start a midnight shift at the police station.

“Yeah, gotta keep the town safe and patrol the beach, which I don’t mind. Last time I did that, I ran into the most amazing girl.” He pulled Margo in for one final kiss. “See you tomorrow. Now, you make sure that Newhart there sleeps it off.”

Margo and Newhart both watched their favorite man make his exit. All in all, the evening had been a badly needed, euphoric respite. Both in her dreams and in her wakeful moments, Margo could feel Finn’s warm knuckles resting against her chest. Murder, witchcraft, and uncertainty could wait.