Wisteria Wrinkle Read online

  Dawna clutched the deck of cards to her chest. “It’s going to be hard keeping my mind on work for the rest of the day when I really want to play around with these cards.”

  “Take it slowly,” Zinnia advised.

  Dawna raised both eyebrows and stared up at Zinnia from her chair, her orange, cat-like eyes showing curiosity. “Take it slowly? What do you mean? Do you know something about readings?”

  “Just what I’ve seen in the movies,” Zinnia said with a light laugh. It wasn’t true at all. She’d trained in several witch modalities before finding her specialty in the kitchen with potions. Card magic had been challenging, and she hadn’t taken to it. Even just shuffling the deck made her thoughts feel confused, with too many possibilities overlapping each other.

  Dawna was still staring up at her with those curious orange eyes, as though she knew Zinnia was fibbing. “You sure about that?”

  Zinnia shrugged. “Never mind me. Take it whatever speed you’d like,” she said with a smile. “Oh, and Margaret is opening a box of cream horns in the break room right now.”

  A gruff voice called out from Karl’s office, “Did somebody say cream horns?”

  “In the break room,” Zinnia answered, quickly stepping away from the main traffic path.

  There was a chorus of exclamations about the cream horns, and then a stampede toward the break room.

  Two hours later, Zinnia rolled her chair back from her computer and stretched her arms. She licked her lips and wondered if her coworkers had left behind any of the cream horns. Perhaps she would go check. Good pastry should never be wasted. It was time for an afternoon break, anyway. She thought of her niece, Zara, who was probably taking her afternoon break as well. Zara was planning to play a prank on her coworker Frank using a fake jar of peanut brittle that contained pop-out snakes. What a goofball!

  The back of Zinnia’s neck tickled. She reached up to tidy the stray hair that must have come undone from her bun. Except there was no loose hair. What had tickled her neck? The skin on her forearms contracted into goose bumps. Something was amiss.

  She glanced around her office. The walls were no longer the plain white they’d been when Jesse Berman had occupied the space. Zinnia had wallpapered the room, with permission and on her own time, with one of her favorite floral patterns. Everything in the office was where it ought to be. She listened, and heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even the sounds of typing. That was concerning. She had seven coworkers, and it was unusual—no, impossible—for the office to be dead silent during business hours.

  She got up from her chair and stepped out of her office. The desks in the main area—two double workstations and two single workstations—were all empty. She proceeded around the corner to the other private office, which belonged to her boss, Karl Kormac. His office was equally empty. She frowned and rubbed her chin. Had everyone gone up to the board room on the third floor for a meeting and forgotten to bring her along?

  She returned to her computer to check her calendar and email for notices about meetings.

  A flickering light drew her eye to the corner of her office. Something was happening to the surge detector. She’d placed it on her bookshelf after lunch, using it as a bookend. The glass ball was still resting on its wooden stand, exactly where she’d left it. But instead of emitting a pale blue glow, it was pulsating a bright blue and green.

  Green?

  Chloe had said the glowfish turned blue for danger and yellow for mating. What did green mean? And where had Zinnia’s coworkers gone?

  Chapter 5

  Zinnia picked up her office phone to call someone about the apparent magic surge. She would try Chloe at the bakery first before calling the emergency number for the DWM. She didn’t want to be the woman who cried wolf.

  Before Zinnia could make the call, she heard the squeak of the main office door swing open followed by the rustling sound of someone walking in. Zinnia dropped the phone, the surge momentarily forgotten, and ran out to see who was there.

  It was Liza Gilbert, looking about the same as when Zinnia had seen her at lunch time. Her eyes and nose were a bit red, but she didn’t appear to be panicked about any supernatural happenings.

  Liza was the youngest person working at the department. She had taken over Zinnia’s desk after Zinnia was promoted to Special Buildings. Liza shared one of the two-person workspaces with Margaret, who frequently complained about the younger woman and her irritating cheerfulness.

  Liza gave Zinnia a casual nod as she returned to her desk in no particular hurry.

  Zinnia caught her breath and waited for her heart to stop racing. When she’d found the office empty, she’d assumed the worst—that foul monsters had slipped through from another dimension and eaten every one of her coworkers. Now, looking at Liza adjust her keyboard tray without fear of being consumed, Zinnia felt a little foolish.

  Liza looked up at Zinnia and asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Zinnia answered. “I was surprised to look up from my computer a few minutes ago and find myself alone in the office. Where did everyone go?”

  Liza lifted a hand and counted on her fingers. “Margaret had to run over to the school to see about some trouble her kids got into. Karl came down with the afternoon munchies. Gavin announced that the office coffee maker needed unbleached filters, not the bright white kind. Carrot had a family thing. Xavier went off to make a personal phone call. And Dawna wouldn’t say where she was going, but that’s Dawna for you.”

  Zinnia nodded. “That’s Dawna for you,” she agreed.

  Liza looked in the direction of Dawna’s desk, which had a new good luck statue on it. It was a maneki-neko, a Japanese calico cat with one paw raised in greeting.

  Liza asked, “How many cats does Dawna have?”

  “Nobody knows,” Zinnia said. “Not even Gavin.”

  The two shared a laugh. Zinnia was surprised to find how comfortable she felt talking to Liza. Zinnia had been avoiding the new employee because Zinnia chatting with Liza made Margaret’s eye twitch with jealousy. Now that the two were alone, Zinnia was able to relax and be herself, or as close to herself as she could be with someone who didn’t know about magic.

  That Monday, Liza Gilbert was dressed in a tasteful tan blazer and skirt. Both articles of clothing were a size too large, which made Zinnia guess the suit was a hand-me-down from a family member. The outfit was conservative and timeless, yet Liza had inexplicably paired the suit with a blouse that resembled a well-used dish cloth, as well as the strangest shoes. They were a cross between boots and sandals. Luckily for Liza, she had a trim figure, so even her bolder fashion choices looked nice, overall. The young woman was also blessed with a face as cheerful as her personality. Her honey-brown eyes were large, wide set, and expressive. Her long, thick eyelashes allowed her to look fully “made up” with just an application of mascara. Her eyebrows were straight and full, almost bushy. She’d recently told the other women at work that her natural eyebrows were so pale they made her look like a ghost, so she’d remedied that perceived flaw by getting semi-permanent makeup tattooed across both eyebrows. The illusion was quite effective, though once you knew some of the light-brown “hairs” were tattoos, it was hard not to stare at them.

  Liza had glossy, naturally blonde hair that she wore in a ponytail because she was trying to break her habit of fussing with her hair. It was a trait her grandmother, Queenie, found abhorrent and unladylike. Liza still twirled the end of her ponytail whenever she talked on the phone. Margaret did a great imitation of Liza, twirling her ponytail and biting her lower lip like a lovesick teenager in a vampire romance movie. Zinnia didn’t make fun of Liza, partly because she didn’t share a desk with her, so familiarity had not bred contempt. But mainly because it didn’t seem fair for grown women to make fun of a kid. At twenty-one, Liza was barely an adult. If it wasn’t for her office-appropriate clothes and makeup, she could easily pass for fifteen or younger. Zinnia had bumped into her at the gro
cery store once and not recognized the young woman in her weekend sweatshirt and yoga pants.

  Liza sniffed and reached for a tissue from the box that straddled the crack between her and Margaret’s desks. She blew her nose, bringing out the redness in her eyes. Zinnia knew that redness. Liza had been crying.

  “You didn’t mention where you went,” Zinnia said. She’d meant to sound neutral, but it came out with an accusing tone. Her throat must have been tight from the panic over the glowing surge detector. Panic that was likely unfounded. The thing probably oscillated between green and blue regularly, and she didn’t know that yet because she’d only had it for two hours.

  “I was just...” Liza trailed off, took in a choppy breath, and made a strangled sound. Tears welled up and rolled out of her eyes.

  Oh, floopy doop. “Oh, no,” Zinnia said. “Don’t cry.” What was with her coworkers being so emotional today? Was it a side effect of the magic surges?

  Liza’s tears doubled in size and velocity. Telling someone to not cry had that exact effect. It was like a magic spell for people who didn’t practice magic.

  Zinnia leaned into her office to check on the surge detector. The glass ball was back to glowing a pale blue. Whatever it had detected moments earlier had passed. Zinnia brushed all thoughts about magical surges aside and turned her attention to her young coworker, who was now sobbing.

  Zinnia grabbed Margaret’s desk chair, rolled it around to the edge of the workstation, and sat next to Liza.

  “There, there,” Zinnia said, patting the young woman on the shoulder tentatively. “You’re usually the most cheerful person around here.” Too cheerful, as Margaret would say. “Something must be wrong.”

  Liza hurled herself into Zinnia’s arms, where she continued sobbing. Zinnia adjusted her arms to an awkward embrace. She could feel Liza’s big teardrops soaking through her floral blouse and wetting her skin. People could be so messy.

  Zinnia kept patting. “Liza, is there something you want to talk about?” She lightened the mood with a little joke. “Did someone eat all the cream horns before you could get one?”

  “No,” Liza sobbed.

  Zinnia craned her neck, searching the office for clues. Her gaze came to rest on Dawna’s tarot cards, which sat on the crack between Dawna and Gavin’s shared desk. “Did Dawna read your fortune and tell you something upsetting?”

  “No.” Liza caught her breath and then she gushed, “I feel like I don’t even exist.”

  Zinnia took in a deep breath. “You feel like you don’t exist,” she repeated. “I know exactly what you mean. Just wait until you’re over forty. You become completely invisible to some people.”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, you won’t have to worry about that for years. And you’re a lovely girl. I’m sure you won’t become completely invisible.”

  “But what if I stop existing?”

  “Do you mean... death?” Zinnia’s throat tensed. “Liza, have you been having dark thoughts? About harming yourself?”

  “Not exactly.” The sobbing ceased, but Liza didn’t remove her face from Zinnia’s chest. “It’s complicated and weird.”

  “Try me. You’ll be surprised how well I understand things that are complicated and weird.”

  Liza sniffed. “Okay.” Another sniff. “It’s a mistake that I’m here.”

  “Do you mean in this job? It’s an entry-level position. You’re more than qualified.”

  “Not my job. I mean everything. I’m not supposed to exist. One day I’m going to disappear, and the world will keep going without me. Nobody will notice I’m gone, because I was never here in the first place.”

  Zinnia considered this. It sounded like garden-variety existential despair. Liza was young, so it could be her first taste of the bitter fruit of adulthood. Zinnia tried to imagine being in Liza’s shoes, and what might be reassuring. Unfortunately, she couldn’t lie and tell Liza everything would be okay. It wasn’t in her nature. So she said, in her most tender tone, “What you’re describing sounds frightening.”

  “I know, right? It’s the worst.” More sniffing and more wet tears soaking through Zinnia’s blouse. “For a while it was just nightmares, but now I’m feeling it during the day, when I’m awake.”

  Zinnia considered Liza’s predicament. What if her anxiety was about more than the growing pains associated with coming of age in a complicated world? If Liza had magical powers, the nightmares could be premonitions. Zinnia did have reason to believe magic ran in the Gilbert family. It was mainly rumor and speculation, but Liza’s grandmother Queenie had been friends with Winona Vander Zalm, who’d confided in Zinnia that Queenie had some very interesting tales to tell.

  Zinnia couldn’t come right out and ask Liza about powers, not without exposing herself, but she could nudge the conversation in that direction.

  “Have you talked to anyone about your nightmares? Maybe an older family member?”

  “No. Just you.” Liza pulled away from Zinnia’s chest. A gooey string of saliva stretched from Zinnia’s blouse to Liza’s mouth before breaking. Zinnia pretended not have noticed and restrained herself from reaching for a tissue. Distantly, she found it amusing that she could reattach limbs and digits without queasiness, yet a bit of someone else’s saliva was so horrifying.

  “I had a bad one last night,” Liza said. “I was lost inside a dark tunnel.”

  “Is there anything stressful going on in your life?” Zinnia gave her a playful smile. “Besides having to work with all of us here.”

  Liza grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. “I like working here.”

  “Has your boyfriend been treating you well?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Zinnia glanced over at the empty desk behind Liza’s, where Xavier Batista normally sat. He and Liza had been dating, as far as Zinnia knew. But the younger generation didn’t call it dating, did they?

  “What about Xavier?” Zinnia asked. “Are you two still...” She couldn’t bring herself to say hooking up. “Spending time together?”

  Liza rubbed her red eyes. “I guess so.” She added, “But we’re not exclusive.”

  “Fair enough. You’re both just kids.”

  “The nightmares don’t have anything to do with him. It’s probably just stress. My grandma is sick.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Is it Queenie, or your other grandmother on the other side?”

  “Queenie.” Liza smiled faintly. “The first time she collapsed was last month, right after she was here that day for lunch.”

  “I remember that day. What happened?”

  “She needs a pacemaker, but she refuses to get one.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Did she say why?”

  “Just that it isn’t part of the Big Plan.”

  “As in God’s plan?”

  “Something like that.” Liza’s chin wrinkled. “She’s going to die, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Zinnia said nothing. People died. She couldn’t refute that.

  Queenie Gilbert had looked so healthy just a month ago. Zinnia had an excellent recollection of the day Queenie had visited City Hall. It was the same day a brainweevil had come dangerously close to becoming part of Margaret Mills’ lunch.

  Could the three things—Queenie’s collapse, the first magic surge, and the brainweevil’s appearance—be connected? All three events had happened at the same time. Sometimes what appeared to be a coincidence was actually a clue.

  Then again, coincidences did happen. Zinnia’s perception of connections might be a product of her paranoia. Her detective friend, Ethan Fung, had warned Zinnia she might suffer PTSD following the kidnapping, although it might not manifest for a few months. She’d assured him that witches didn’t get PTSD, but she had been on edge these last few months. She’d chalked it up to withdrawal from her emotion-numbing tea, but perhaps she wasn’t as tough as she wanted to believe. Also, now that she had her family in her life, she had something to lose,
and that changed everything.

  Liza sniffed again. “I haven’t told you everything, Zinnia.”

  “Oh?”

  “The nightmare is actually really specific. You’re going to think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

  Zinnia gave Liza a playful eyebrow raise. “You know the old saying. You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it sure helps. Tell me about your nightmare. I promise not to laugh.”

  Liza took a labored breath and stared woefully at Zinnia with her large, honey-brown eyes. “If my grandmother dies, I’m not going to exist.”

  Zinnia didn’t blink. “Feelings aren’t crazy,” she said. “I believe you.”

  Liza’s mouth dropped open. She rolled her chair back, away from Zinnia. “What are you saying?” Her arms twitched. “Is something going to happen to me?”

  “I just meant that I believe you that you feel that way,” Zinnia said.

  Her voice a scratchy whisper, Liza said, “I’m going to fade away.”

  “No, you won’t,” Zinnia said adamantly. “I won’t let that happen. No matter what, you have me on your side. If someone or something is threatening you, come straight to me. Promise?”

  Liza looked confused. “Um. Okay.”

  “Straight to me. With anything. And if I’m not around, talk to Margaret.”

  Liza wrinkled her nose. “Margaret? She hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you. She just takes a while to warm up to people. When we first met, she hated me, too.”

  Liza’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

  “Margaret’s not the easiest person to get along with, but she’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know. Trust me when I say you want her on your side.”

  Liza tilted her head to the side. “Since we’re talking about Margaret, there’s something I’ve always wondered about. What were the two of you doing that night at Towhee Swamp? That night I was attacked by a cougar?”

  Unlike the rest of their conversation, Zinnia was actually prepared for that question. Smart witches always had cover stories ready. Zinnia relayed the cover story she and Margaret had agreed to, about how one of Margaret’s children had dropped a beloved teddy bear on the walkway during the day and wouldn’t go to sleep that night without it.