The restaurant we did choose (or, Marty had already chosen it) was lovely, with gleaming wood tables and amber velvet upholstery. It was definitely much fancier than our usual spots and it wasn’t lost on me that Marty had definitely been looking forward to this date.

  And I’d forgotten all about it. Le sigh.

  Anyway, the lights were dim, creating an intimate atmosphere full of hushed voices and the illusion of privacy. The food was plated beautifully on fine china, but I was pretty sure I didn’t taste any of it. I couldn’t have even remembered the name of the place if someone had asked me.

  But Marty was warm and charming, as always. He managed to draw me out of my worry eventually, and I did have a nice time—even if I kept checking my watch and he kept telling me not to worry, ‘we’ll get out of here in less than an hour’.

  And while I had a nice time with Marty and always had a nice time with Marty, I just felt… off. The whole evening felt a bit like the time I had to get a filling for a tooth, and then spent the rest of the day running my tongue over the spot again and again, feeling the difference in what had been familiar. Everything just felt slightly wrong somehow. And I didn’t know how or why I was feeling this way. I wondered if maybe I’d jumped into this relationship with Marty too soon after things ended with Roy and then I wondered if I should have jumped into it at all?

  I also couldn’t help but think all of this mind-freak was probably just me concerned about Finn and the mysterious book, Vellum. Until I understood exactly what was going on, I just wasn’t going to be comfortable leaving my son with a magical object of unknown origins that could have had an agenda of its own. That would explain why I just felt so restless and uncomfortable.

  “—and that’s when Henner pulled a purple rhinoceros out of his backpack, and R.J. kick boxed some ninjas.”

  My head snapped up, and I stopped turning the fancy cloth napkin over and over in my hands as I finally registered what Marty was saying. “I… what? R.J. can kick box?”

  Marty laughed, a warm chuckle that caused an answering smile to curl my lips, even though I had no idea what the heck he’d been talking about. Where would Henner even find a rhinoceros?

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Marty dabbed the corner of his eyes with his napkin. “You were just so lost in your thoughts, I wondered how long it would take you to notice what I was saying.”

  A flush rushed to my cheeks as guilt soured the probably very delicious meal I’d eaten. “I’m so sorry, Marty. I didn’t mean to drift off like that. I just… I have a lot on my mind.”

  “I can tell!” He laughed.

  I was being a terrible date, and Marty had already been so understanding, and hadn’t even commented on the fact that I’d completely forgotten to even change clothes—yes, I was sitting here in the still stained shirt I’d been wearing earlier. He deserved a lot better than what I was giving him at the moment. At the very least, he deserved me paying attention when he spoke.

  “Hey.” Marty reached across the champagne-colored tablecloth to lay his hand over mine. “How about we head out?”

  I blinked at him, taken a little aback. “You haven’t had dessert yet and you always order dessert.”

  Marty had a huge sweet tooth. He loved dessert. And this place probably had something fancy and decadent he’d most definitely want to try.

  But he just smiled and patted the little tummy hidden by his sweater. “I’ll live. C’mon, Pops. I know you’re worried about Finn. Let’s get you home.”

  A surge of affection welled up in my chest, followed quickly by more guilt. Marty was so sweet and understanding about these circumstances and about all circumstances, in general. And the fact that he never complained once that he’d only had half my attention all night (if that) on what was supposed to be a romantic date made me wish… well, I didn’t know what it made me wish for.

  I just ended up feeling… pretty awful.

  He was such a great guy, and I just didn’t understand why I was having so much trouble connecting with him as anything more than friends. Maybe it was just the string of bad relationships I’d had so far? I’d been disappointed so many times by men, that maybe it was just too hard for me to trust anymore?

  That had to be it. Marty was such a wonderful person that this was simply my subconscious being gun shy. It was my fear talking for me—telling me I didn’t feel more for him than friendship. But how to get that stupid side of me to shut up and recognize the gem she had in front of her? Maybe I just needed to find someone to talk to so I could unpack all the baggage I had about relationships, maybe do some internal cleansing. Then everything would fall into place, right? Isn’t that how it worked? Things between Marty and me had always been so easy, so comfortable. Once I managed to get over this hump, a romantic relationship wouldn’t be any different.

  Marty did his best to keep the conversation light on our drive back to the house. He told me about the latest ghost-busting job he’d done with Henner and R.J., where the home owner had been convinced they had a terrible poltergeist in their attic. But it turned out that instead of ghosts, they had a nasty territorial dispute between two particularly screamy raccoons. Marty had done his best to still help them out, but as it turned out, gear designed to search and rid ghosts was supremely unsuited for dealing with furious raccoons.

  By the time we pulled into my driveway, the story of their hijinks had me laughing so hard, I could barely breathe, and tears were threatening the corners of my eyes. All my earlier worries were banished to the back of my mind for the length of that car ride, and I was so, so grateful to Marty.

  He parked the hearse and turned to face me. His blue eyes were very intent when he said, “It’s going to be okay, Pops. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

  Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips over mine.

  As kisses went, it was brief. Just the warm, firm press of his mouth, and the hint of his tongue brushing over my bottom lip. It was a nice kiss, sweet. I certainly wouldn’t have minded doing it again—under less stressful circumstances.

  That made me feel better about the situation, enough that I could give Marty a wide, genuine smile when we pulled away. Maybe I wasn’t completely hopeless in relationships, after all. Maybe I really just needed to get out of my own way and trust that Marty wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt or disappoint me.

  Stepping out from behind the driver’s wheel, he came around my side of the hearse to open my door for me, and I giggled, feeling like I was someone in a regency movie being helped out of a carriage.

  Going on a date in a hearse was always a little weird, but Lorcan paid Marty to drive it around for him, and he didn’t like it parked in one place for too long. It wasn’t a big deal, it was just one of Marty’s quirks. Well, and Lorcan’s too, for that matter.

  I picked up the bag of food we’d ordered to go for Bailey and Finn and then Marty walked me to my door like the gentleman he was. Once we were standing on my porch, he took both of my hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

  “Try not to worry, Pops,” he said, his face intent and earnest. “Betanya and Olga are super powerful witches. Heck, Olga even used to teach at a magical academy. If there’s something wrong with the book, they’ll be able to spot it better than anyone else.”

  I had to smile; I really was lucky to have him in my life.

  I rocked up onto my tip toes so I could press a little kiss to his cheek. “You’re probably right.”

  He grinned, little lines fanning out from the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “I could get used to you saying that.”

  With one more of those short, sweet little kisses, he opened the front door for me.

  Once inside, I found Olga and Betanya hunched over the book over the kitchen table, each of them drinking a mug of hot cocoa. While they were examining the book closely, white and red heads pressed together, neither of them seemed too concerned. I took that as a good sign, and a little breath of relief escaped me.

  “Hi, Mom,” Finn called from the couch, where he was sitting beside Bailey and both of them were playing his x-box. Apparently, Bailey was getting her butt kicked because she kept complaining about Finn zapping her with his laser and he kept telling her to stop getting in front of him.

  The sound of the door closing broke through their conversation, and Betanya raised her head to smile in my direction.

  “Hello, Poppy. I hope you had a nice evening out with your beau.”

  I looked over at Marty and blushed as he beamed from ear to ear. Clearly, he liked being referred to as such. He greeted both witches as they did the same.

  I hadn’t met a ton of witches in my life, but enough that I felt confident in saying that Betanya was an outlier. And I didn’t just mean that most witches were black-haired, while Betanya’s hair was almost scarlet. Compared to the usual reserved snarkiness I got from Wanda, who was now one of my closest friends, Betanya was cheerful. I’d even go so far as to say she was bubbly.

  Most of the other witches I’d encountered had an almost pathological aversion to being pleasant. It probably had something to do with the vicious politics that went on in a traditional coven. Being overly emotional was seen as a weakness among witches, and if you were emotional, it opened you up to being a target to the more ambitious and ruthless coven members. After everything Betanya had gone through: being attacked and forcibly half-turned by Roscoe, being kicked out of the coven she’d been a part of her entire life, then being stalked by Roscoe, and ultimately locked away with him inside the Veil for forty years, I would have thought she’d have had all the joy crushed out of her.

  But maybe I was thinking through Betanya’s cheerfulness backwards. For the first time in however many years, she was free. Free from the veil, free from Roscoe, free from her wonky Blood Witch powers. Unlike Wanda when she was cleared of Lorcan’s influence, Betanya’s powers had actually returned to those she’d had before she was ever half-turned. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that Roscoe was dead and his death was what had returned Betanya to the witch she’d been before he ever bit her. Wanda’s sire hadn’t been killed (thank God)—she’d simply been bitten by another vampire which had broken the Blood Witch bond between Lorcan and her. In effect, Lorcan’s ‘kiss’ had been returned to him so he was no longer crazy town.

  But back to Betanya, she’d reclaimed her status as a normal witch, and she’d gotten to meet her own grandson. Talk about having a new lease on life, not being stuck in a mystical maze with your murderous stalker, and all the wonders of modern convenience. We’d come a long way in those forty years. That could be enough to break anyone of regret, anger, or depression.

  I sidled up to the table and greeted them both with a big hug. Even though they were both on the happier side (for witches), they still struggled with my huggy nature, but they were making improvements. Faster than Wanda was, I might add. “I did have a good time, thank you for asking. How are things going here? Any progress?”

  Olga nodded, her upper lip covered in milk foam from her drink. “Oh, ya,” she said in her thick German accent. I noticed, with interest, that neither of them had brought their familiars, which was just as well because the two of them together were like watching a circus. Franz was a German raccoon and you literally couldn’t understand a word he said and Betanya’s familiar was a skunk named Charlie Ray, who was as backwoods as they came, not a surprise considering he was from the deep mountains of Alabama.

  Betanya put her cup down on the table. “We haven’t found anything dangerous regarding the book, nothing to be concerned about, certainly.”

  “See, Mom,” Finn said from the living room. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

  “But Finn can see writing in it and no one else can!” I started.

  Betanya nodded, as if she were expecting the comment.

  “As far as we can guess, the book only shows its secrets to children. Or to those who are exceptionally pure of heart.” She paused to take a drink, closing her eyes for a moment as if to savor the rich chocolate. “We showed it to Astrid, and she could almost make out the print. She said it looked incredibly faded, though.”

  “Astrid?” I started and then heard the sound of the bathroom door down the hall opening and out came Astrid, walking down the hallway to join Finn and Bailey on the couch.

  “He still kicking your butt?” she asked Bailey.

  “Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Bailey answered.

  Turning back to Betanya, I felt my eyebrows knitting. “Astrid could only see some of the print?”

  Olga nodded. “Ya, vich make sense,” she answered, her blue eyes crinkling. “Astrid is seventeen now. Zee ist no longer a girl. Zee ist becoming a voman.”

  “Did you hear that?” Finn asked with a laugh, calling out to Astrid. “You’re becoming a voman!”

  “Put a lid on it, kid,” Astrid responded, frowning at him, even as a smile turned up the corners of her lips.

  So, Vellum wasn’t anything sinister, just a book for children. A huge weight lifted off my shoulders and I smiled, thinking of how excited Finn would be when he learned he possessed a magic book that only he could read. I had a feeling that would really make him feel special and that was also exactly what he needed.

  And who knew, maybe learning a few harmless magic tricks might be a good thing for him? Something that would help shore up his confidence that had taken one too many knocks since we’d arrived in town. At the very least, it would be nice for him to have a hobby that didn’t involve blowing up virtual zombies. Unless, of course, the book still belonged to someone else.

  “Then… you didn’t catch a magical signature on the book?” I asked.

  Betanya shook her head. “This book wasn’t created by witches.”

  “What?” I asked, frowning even more heavily.

  Olga nodded. “Zee magic vich animates zee book isn’t vitch magic,” she said, basically repeating exactly what Betanya had just said, in case I didn’t understand it the first time.

  “But… how is that possible?”

  They both shrugged. “It is what it is,” Betanya answered.

  “But… but who would have magicked it then? A warlock?” At that thought, I almost wished the two of them had brought the other member of our coven, Maverick. Of course, he was difficult at the best of times, so maybe it was a blessing they hadn’t. Regardless, I started feeling concerned all over again.

  Betanya shook her head. “If it were warlock magic, we would have been able to detect that, too. No—this magic isn’t from anyone within a witch or warlock line. It’s something… different.”

  “But you don’t know what?” I asked, just double-checking.

  “Ya, vee don’t know vhat,” Olga answered.

  I breathed in deeply, figuring the mystery of Vellum was still unsolved. At least now I knew the book wasn’t out to get us—that was the most important thing. “Thank you both so much for coming over and taking a look at it. I really appreciate it.” I felt a little silly, dragging them both out so late for something that turned out to be innocent, but I just couldn’t take the risk of something dangerous getting a hold of Finn.

  Olga chortled. “Of course, of course!”

  “Think nothing of it.” Betanya smiled, looking a bit younger than her own grandson. That made sense, though. Witches aged a lot slower than humans did. “I’m glad we could be of assistance. And we were just hanging out at home, helping Astrid with her spells while Wanda was out with Lorcan.”

  “Well, thank you again,” I said as I caught a glance at the clock over the kitchen table and realized it was waaaaay past Finn’s bedtime. “I’m just going to get Finn into bed,” I said, heading for the living room. “But, afterwards, can I make you a nightcap before you head out?”

  “Ya-ya,” Olga answered as Betanya started to shake her head and then nodded instead.

  Chapter Five

  I jogged lightly up the old farmhouse stairs that led to the second floor and Finn’s bedroom.

  I’d just told him to brush his teeth and put his pajamas on, before darting back downstairs to say goodbye to everyone, everyone who’d apparently already decided I was taking too long, so they were heading out.

  It was just as well because the truth was I was exhausted—it had been a long and busy day and I wanted nothing more than to have the house to myself so I could brew up a few potions and do a bit of my own magic regarding Vellum to see what I could find.

  A couple of the steps creaked dramatically under my feet as I took them two at a time before working my way into Finn’s room. When I walked in, he was lying on his bed and Vellum was opened in front of him, Piggy rolled up and already asleep at the foot of his bed.

  I noticed the deck of playing cards in Finn’s hands when I walked fully into the room and a frown of intense concentration on his face. And I was beyond happy to see it—this was the first time in a while that Finn had displayed any interest in anything. It was an interest I wanted to encourage, but first I had to make sure it was safe enough to encourage.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” I went to stand beside his bed, making sure the curtains were closed over his window as I crossed the room. Finn wasn’t a fan of having the window uncovered anymore, ever since he’d spotted Roscoe outside it, and I couldn’t blame him. I kept my curtains pulled tight, myself. “Everything okay?”

  He sighed, letting his hands and the cards fall to his chest with a dramatic huff. “I’m trying to do one of the card tricks from the book, but I can’t get it to work.”

  He handed me the deck and Vellum, and I placed both on the nightstand (which wasn’t easy with the way Vellum was wiggling this way and that) before helping Finn climb under the covers. Piggy then opened his eyes and, stifling a yawn, walked over to snuggle down beside Finn in the bed, pressing close to his side.

  “I’m tired,” the pig proclaimed, before going right back to sleep again.

  Once Finn was settled, I smoothed his hair back from his forehead and kissed his brow, wondering how many more times he’d let me get away with it. “Just keep practicing. You’ll get it, eventually.”