Wisteria Wrinkle Read online

  “I’m fine.” Margaret kicked at a pebble, still looking down. She sounded anything but fine.

  Zinnia gingerly lifted an arm behind Margaret. Zinnia’s shoulder screamed in pain, so she dropped the arm before contacting the other witch.

  “Oh, dear,” Zinnia said, still struggling to find comforting words. Recently, she’d offered so much tea and sympathy to her great-niece. It should have come easier, but she found it so unexpected for headstrong, self-assured—some might say self-righteous—Margaret Mills to be in such a self-pitying state. Zinnia wasn’t sure of her role. The two had far more practice fighting with each other than with offering comfort.

  “Forget I brought it up,” Margaret said wearily. “It’s Monday. Let’s chalk it up to a case of the Mondays.”

  “Sure,” Zinnia said, but she wouldn’t be able to forget.

  It was no wonder Margaret was suffering a bad mood. Ever since Zinnia had been reunited with her family, the two coworkers had spoken about little else. Margaret wasn’t wrong to see herself as an extra wheel. She had gone from first place in Zinnia’s life to third.

  Zinnia sighed, though not as audibly as Margaret. For every twist of fate—every action—there was an equal and opposite reaction. The sudden, wonderful influx of Riddles had pushed out Zinnia’s other relationships. What could Zinnia do? There was only one of her, only so many hours in the day.

  She lifted her shoulder-hugging arm again, experienced a surge of pain like an electrical shock, and dropped it once more.

  They turned the corner and soon were on the block for the bakery.

  Zinnia snapped her fingers to break the sound bubble as they approached the shop. She could smell the pastries from the sidewalk.

  “Here we are,” Zinnia said brightly. “And lunch is on me today. I insist.”

  Margaret didn’t refuse, but she didn’t cheer up, either. Her posture remained slumped forward and troll-like as they approached the front door.

  The exterior of the Gingerbread House of Baking, owned and run by Jordan and Chloe Taub, was decorated to match its name. The front was a gingerbread house, from the giant sugared gumdrops to the white swirls of “frosting” that had been created from Styrofoam and plaster. The “gumballs” were the size of baseballs because they truly were baseballs, dipped in bright, primary shades of paint. The storefront looked good enough to eat. From the outside, anyway. Inside, the shop was all white, bleached wood, gleaming metal, pale marble, and glass. The baked goods—real stuff, made with butter and sugar, not painted sporting goods—were the star of the show.

  Zinnia was reaching for the candy-cane handle when the door swung open. She looked up to see the owner, Jordan Taub. He was on his way out with a tiny baby in his arms. Jordan was about thirty, with dark skin and plenty of muscles. The baby had fuzzy black hair and light-brown skin. He or she was awake and wriggling happily in his or her father’s arms.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Jordan said, yawning. “Or is it afternoon?”

  Margaret replied in her usual precise fashion, “It’s twelve-fifteen, so it’s technically the afternoon.”

  Zinnia said, “Looks like you’ve been busy with this little one. Boy or girl?”

  Jordan gave her a surprised look. “Don’t you know already? I thought news traveled fast around certain communities.”

  Margaret and Zinnia exchanged a look. By certain communities did he mean witches? Had one of the coven offended Jordan? Not that Zinnia knew of.

  “Small towns,” Jordan said in an exasperated tone. “By certain communities, I mean small towns.” He sighed. “And it’s a boy. Jordan Junior.” He looked down at the baby’s chubby face. An expression of calm tenderness came over the rugged, muscular man’s face. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

  “He’s perfect,” Zinnia said. “What a charmer!”

  Jordan raised an eyebrow. “A charmer? Is that supposed to mean something? As in, snake charmer?”

  Zinnia blinked rapidly. There were so many ways to insult supernatural people without realizing it!

  Margaret stepped in. “Your son is a real charmer,” she said in a firm tone. “It’s something people say. Get used to it.” She softened as she smiled at the baby. “With those big eyes, everyone’s going to be charmed by this little cookie!”

  “Oh,” Jordan said. “Uh, thanks.”

  Jordan stepped back, holding open the door for the two ladies to enter the bakery. He brandished his new baby the way only a proud new father could. They both cooed at Jordan Junior for the appropriate amount of time—about a minute longer than necessary—and then Jordan left with the baby, apparently satisfied by the outcome of their interaction.

  Margaret and Zinnia exchanged another look. The baby had looked normal enough, from the waist up, anyway. Both witches knew the newborn’s mother was a gorgon, but neither knew what manner of creature Jordan Taub was, assuming he even was one. He might have been, like Margaret’s husband, Mike, just a regular, non-magical person who’d gotten lucky.

  Both witches relaxed as they looked around and breathed in the smell of the bakery. The scent of fresh bread and cookies was heavenly to Zinnia, who’d been smelling nothing but mentholated brainweevil repellent all morning.

  The two were greeted by the baby’s mother, Chloe Taub. Despite being a gorgon, Chloe was looking entirely human, her hair snakes hidden away on the magical plane where they normally existed. Chloe was dressed in pale yellow and white.

  “Hello, ladies,” Chloe chirped brightly. “Today’s Monday, so we’ve just put out a batch of delicious cream horns.”

  Chloe looked remarkably chipper for the mother of a newborn who wasn’t even a month old yet. Chloe had cut her hair since that day in January that Zinnia had seen her crossing the street while visibly pregnant. Chloe’s golden curls were now tamed into a short style, shaved at the back with some feminine volume on top. The twenty-nine-year-old’s round face was pretty, albeit pudgy from the baby weight. Her magic-wielding blue eyes were a deep, luminous sapphire, lightly tinged with red from sleepless nights.

  Chloe was one of three triplets. Her sister Charlize worked for the local top-secret agency. Her other sister Chessa wasn’t doing much at all, thanks to being in a coma for the past year. Zinnia wasn’t familiar with Chessa’s abilities, but she knew that both Charlize and Chloe had the power to turn living things to stone and back again, as well as other powers. Zinnia had a mouse-shaped stone paperweight at home thanks to Charlize, and a crack in her windshield thanks to Chloe.

  Zinnia wondered how Chloe’s hair snakes were adjusting to both motherhood and their new haircut. Zinnia relaxed her eyes so she could peer through the regular world to see the unseen, the magic that hid itself on another dimension. As Zinnia’s witch vision kicked in, the bright white bakery swam around the gorgon’s head. Even the scent of freshly baked bread turned to something more like ash. Zinnia’s eyes found the other focal plane, and the snakes flickered into view. Their copper heads hung limply, like deflated pool toys. They were much shorter now, their length matching Chloe’s trimmed hair. But they weren’t as powerless as they appeared. Zinnia knew, from first-hand experience, that the snakes could extend at will. They could fill a room if their owner wanted them to.

  Zinnia blinked and snapped her view back to the regular world.

  Chloe patted her short hair self-consciously. “Too short? I shouldn’t have listened to Morganna Faire. That kook. She thought this haircut would be perfect for my face shape, but... I don’t know.”

  Margaret stared at Chloe. “Did you say Morganna Faire? From the Beach Hair Shack? You mean you go to a regular stylist?”

  “Yesssss,” Chloe said suspiciously, with just a hint of a gorgon hiss. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “No reason,” Margaret said in a squeaky voice.

  Margaret swallowed and stepped away from the counter, putting some distance between herself and the gorgon. She busied herself studying the pastries in the display case.

  “Don’t mind her,�
�� Zinnia said to Chloe. “She gets a little starstruck around certain people.”

  Chloe glanced around, frowning. “Who?”

  “You,” Zinnia said. “Your abilities are amazing. You and your family are tapped into something far more powerful than anything we can imagine.”

  Chloe frowned. “So, I’m like a rock star or something to you ladies?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s sweet, I guess.” Her expression clouded over. “Did you hear there was another brainweevil sighting?”

  Zinnia’s ears tingled. She wished she’d applied even more repellent. “I hadn’t heard. Where?”

  “I can’t say where, exactly, but I’d keep my eyes open if I were you.” She grinned and whispered, “It was in the archives at City Hall.”

  “That’s a bit close for comfort.”

  Chloe shrugged. “We’ve all seen worse. You know, they’re not deadly if you get medical treatment right away. I’ve heard some people feel better after a brief infection.” She wrinkled her nose. “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

  “All the same, I’d rather not find out. Thanks for the warning.”

  Chloe leaned forward on the counter and stifled a yawn. “It is Monday right? I’ve been talking up the cream horns all day. Someone would tell me if it wasn’t Monday, wouldn’t they? Or if my hair is too short?”

  Zinnia smiled. “It’s Monday. As a couple of my coworkers would say, it’s Monday all day long. And your hair looks adorable. I can’t believe you’re back at work again so soon after the baby.”

  Chloe shrugged. “I had to get out of the house. I was starting to hear phantom cries and see all sorts of things that weren’t real.”

  “You were seeing things? Such as?”

  Margaret pulled herself from the pastry display case and came over to chime in, “Like what?”

  Chloe took a step back to peer into the back of the bakery. Several noisy mixers and fans were running, but the staff she had working that day weren’t within sight. Margaret and Zinnia were the only customers inside the front of the bakery.

  In a low voice, Chloe said, “I’ve seen deer walking through the living room and kitchen. And rabbits hopping down my hallway. Plus something huge, like a snake, but bigger than any snake that exists. More like a whale that goes on forever.”

  Zinnia and Margaret exchanged a look. Their curiosities had been piqued.

  “A big snake?” Zinnia asked. “Could it be a relative?”

  “I thought about that, but it’s probably just my imagination. When my sisters and I were little, my grandmother used to talk about giant worms that swallowed people whole. She gave me and Charlize nightmares! Not Chessa, though. That girl was never scared of anything.”

  “Giant worms,” Zinnia mused. “That doesn’t sound too scary.”

  Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever seen that movie Dune? With the sandworms? How about Beetlejuice? Or that nineties movie with Kevin Bacon, Tremors?”

  “Ah,” Zinnia said. She was familiar with the franchises and their subterranean monsters. “I can see how that would be terrifying. And you saw these sandworms in your house?”

  “Not exactly,” Chloe said. “Oh, I don’t know. It was more like a shadow or a movement out of the corner of my eye, then my brain would fill in the rest.” She rubbed her temples. “I was probably hallucinating from lack of sleep. People kept telling me that newborns were challenging, but I thought, how hard could it be?” Her eyes glistened. “Plus, I didn’t believe them. Jordan and I spent so long trying to have a baby that I thought people were just saying that to make me feel better about not having one. But luckily—” She cleared her throat and looked away.

  Margaret spoke up, her voice taking on an air of motherly authority. “A new baby will make you question your sanity, that’s for sure. You’re doing just fine.”

  Chloe sniffed. “Thanks,” she said weakly. “He’s just one little baby. Who knew they could cause so much trouble?”

  “Take it from me, a mother of four,” Margaret said. “One little baby is plenty of trouble. And may I give you some advice as one mother to another? You don’t want to have another baby for a while yet. Space them out. Twenty-five years is about right.”

  Chloe blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Zinnia said. “Margaret adores her children. At least three out of the four of them.”

  “It’s true,” Margaret said. “As for which three, they’re in rotation.”

  Chloe’s head bobbed. Judging by the unfocused look in her eyes, Zinnia guessed the new mother was barely hearing their words, let alone catching the humor. Even if Chloe was only seeing forest creatures and imaginary worms, she was still hallucinating. Gorgon or not, she would need time to catch up on her sleep deficit.

  Zinnia changed the topic back to the business at hand. “We should probably order our food now and stop taking up your time,” she said. She and Margaret ordered some grilled sandwiches to go, along with enough cream horns to share with the rest of the office.

  As Chloe was packaging everything, she had a faraway look in her eyes. After wrapping up the transaction, Chloe said, “Wait a minute. I’ve got an extra surge detector here. If I give it to you, then you can keep a lookout for my deer and bunnies. If you happen to see something, you can let my husband know I’m not crazy.”

  Zinnia said, “What’s a surge—”

  She was cut off by Margaret saying, “Yes! We’d love your extra surge detector. Yes, please.”

  “It’s in the back office,” Chloe said. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  After she left the two witches alone, Zinnia said to Margaret, “You don’t even know what a surge detector is, do you?”

  Margaret stared up into Zinnia’s eyes without wavering. “Sure, I do. A surge detector is for detecting surges.”

  “Ha ha,” Zinnia said dryly. “Very funny.”

  “I was funny once,” Margaret said. “Back in college, I was in an improv troupe. We were called the MacGuffins.”

  Zinnia bit her tongue. Margaret mentioned her improv days at least once a week. In fact, she mentioned it so frequently that Zinnia had started to wonder if something sinister was going on with Margaret’s memories. Had there even been a troupe called the MacGuffins, or was it a false memory placed to cover something else?

  Chloe returned with the surge detector, which had a strange yet familiar appearance.

  Chapter 3

  Zinnia Riddle didn’t know what a surge detector was, let alone what it might look like, so she didn’t know if Chloe was joking when she placed on the counter a round glass ball sitting on a simple wooden base. It looked like something a fortune-teller might use to pretend to see the future. A crystal ball.

  She leaned in closer. The ball wasn’t solid crystal after all. It appeared to be filled with liquid, as well as floating, snow-like flakes. Was it a snow globe? She kept watching. The flakes weren’t simply floating. They appeared to be swimming. Alive.

  Margaret, who was standing next to Zinnia, squealed and clapped her hands. “Sea-monkeys!”

  “Not even close,” Chloe said. “Mainly because there’s no such thing as sea-monkeys.”

  Margaret sniffed. “But my kids have some. They’re in a big jar on the kitchen window sill.”

  “Those are just brine shrimp you have,” Zinnia said, elbowing Margaret. “Some marketing genius decided to call them sea-monkeys and sell them as pets.”

  Margaret tapped on the glass ball. “These are brine shrimp? They don’t look like the ones I have at home. These ones are lively.”

  Chloe said flatly, “They’re not brine shrimp.” She shook her head. Zinnia caught a glimpse of the gorgon’s shortened hair snakes rousing from their slumber to do the snake equivalent of rolling their eyes.

  Margaret continued to tap on the glass. The swimming creatures gathered under her fingertips.

  “These are way more lively than our sea-monkeys,” Margaret sa
id. “Come on, guys,” she whispered to them. “Do some neat circus tricks in there.”

  Chloe narrowed her topaz-blue eyes at Margaret. Her hair snakes flopped around with their forked tongues flicking out, as though laughing at the foolish witch with the gray, horn-like curl on the center of her forehead.

  Zinnia elbowed her friend again, trying to get her to stop behaving like a rube at a traveling carnival, but it was too late. The gorgon knew incompetence when she saw it.

  Chloe said wearily, “You two have never used a surge detector before, have you?”

  Margaret snorted. “Not this particular type. Right, Zinnia?” She turned to Zinnia to back her up. Zinnia did not back her up.

  Chloe said, “It’s simple enough. The creatures in here, the ones that you mistook for brine shrimp, are a paraphyletic class of annelid worms. In this species, the luciferase requires two other cofactors for bioluminescence. One is the energy-carrying molecule adenosine triphosphate, ATP, and the other is...” She frowned. “Do either of you have a background in marine biology?”

  Both witches shook their heads.

  “Herbs and plants are my field,” Zinnia said. “I’m Kitchen Bewitched.”

  Chloe raised an eyebrow. “How adorable.” She looked over at Margaret.

  Margaret said nothing. Her witch specialty was something she preferred not to mention. She hadn’t even told Zinnia, so it was unlikely Margaret was about to spill it now, no matter how much she admired the gorgon.

  “But I do understand chemical reactions,” Zinnia said. “Are you saying that these things will glow when a magical cofactor is present?”

  “Basically, yes,” Chloe said. “That is the gist.”

  “And did you say they were a type of worm? Any relation to the giant ones you may or may not have seen at your house?”