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Chapter 22
Feet floating up so her toes peeked out of the frothy bubble bath, Mireio Malory wiggled the little pink beads as she sang to the music filling her bathroom. She sang along with the Meghan Trainor tune about loving herself and not having time for a man because she was all about having fun. A fitting theme song for Mireio at the moment.
Guys were great, but she didn’t have the time to focus on a relationship if her plans to achieve immortality came to fruition. A simple spell could prolong her life a hundred years, guaranteed. But to actually perform that spell—which involved drinking the blood from a live vampire’s beating heart? She’d been avoiding the spell for years, but she couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to honor her departed mother, and to take back her power.
Baths were a common ritual for her in the evenings, after a long day of work at the brewery, or after she’d flexed into a few yoga moves and watched an episode of Bones on Netflix. Born a witch, yet pretty darn disappointed she’d not been born a mermaid, Mireio honored her water magic by feeding her body’s innate craving for water. Surely she owned the biggest bathroom in the city. It was hexagonal, tiled like a Moroccan temple and the big round marble bathtub sat at the center of it all. It was the size of a hot tub, but there were no bubble jets in this tub beyond the sensory explosions from her homemade bath bombs.
Singing loudly, she blew a handful of bubbles skyward and laughed when some landed in her pinned-up red hair. The water was starting to cool, and she’d been in for forty-five minutes. Her fingers and toes were pruned, providing her traction—if she were an amphibian. Or a mermaid.
With a reluctant sigh, she rose from her watery haven and reached for a toasty towel hung over the towel warmer. It wasn’t the wet porcelain tile floor that almost caused her to slip upon exiting the bath—it was the scream.
And a very familiar scream at that.
“Really?” Mireio wrapped the towel around her ample curves and padded wet tracks to the back window to peer out, though she knew she couldn’t see into her neighbor Mrs. Henderson’s yard from here. The windows were also fogged.
She often mentally compared her neighbor to Mrs. Kravitz, the nosy neighbor on the 1960s TV show Bewitched. They didn’t look at all similar, but they possessed the same snoopy, and unwelcome, curiosity and annoying voices.
Yet another scream, this one curling the hairs on the back of Mireio’s neck, prompted her to use the side door in the bathroom that walked out onto the patio.
Pushing open the screen door, she leaned out into the cool spring air and scanned her backyard. It was close to midnight, yet her yard was always illuminated from the house light above the door where she stood, and the dozen solar lights pushed into the lawn at five-foot intervals that framed the backyard.
Suddenly something ran into view. A deer? Wildlife always dashed through the neighborhood yards. Raccoons, beavers, deer, once even a black bear.
Mireio stepped out onto the bamboo patio rug, holding the screen door open with two fingers. She peered into the night, thinking her species, witches, had gotten ripped off because they didn’t have cool night vision like vampires and werewolves. Suddenly an animal stopped, twenty feet away, in the middle of her yard.
She recognized the creature with an ease that made her heart sink.
“A werewolf,” she gasped.
Removing her hand from the screen door to put her fingers to her mouth, she suddenly felt a cool breeze skim her bare skin. More skin than should have been exposed. The towel had gotten caught in the door and fallen away, leaving her standing naked beneath the house light, unable to form words as she met the werewolf’s golden gaze.
The creature, who in fully shifted form was half wolf, half man, thrust back his shoulders and lifted his chest, looking ready to howl. But when his gold eyes dragged away from hers and down her body...
Mireio tried to cover herself as she actually said, “Eek!”
The wolf snorted and a low growling noise rumbled in the night. It didn’t sound threatening. In fact, to her it sounded...amorous.
Mrs. Henderson’s scream sounded again. It was the catalyst to setting the werewolf off in a dash out of the yard.
Released from the spell of the creature’s piercing gaze, Mireio grabbed the door pull and opened it, reaching for the towel and quickly wrapping it around her body.
Just in the nick of time because from around the corner of her backyard appeared a policeman, and in his wake, Mrs. Henderson.
“Did you see it?” Mrs. Henderson, wrapped in a thick white terry robe, scampered over to the patio, the ears on her bunny slippers bobbing.
Tugging the towel up higher and this time clasping it firmly, she stood before the elderly policeman, whom she knew lived on the other side of Mrs. Henderson. Mireio nodded. “Uh, yes?”
“I told you!” Mrs. Henderson slapped the policeman’s back, who shrugged and winced. He was accustomed to answering Mrs. Henderson’s cries of wolf at all hours of the day.
But had this been a true cry of wolf? Best not to let humans know that.
“It was a deer,” Mireio hastily tossed out. “Or maybe a moose. Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was.”
“A moose?” Mrs. Henderson jammed her bony fists to her hips. “It was Bigfoot!”
“All right, all right,” the policeman
