Grave Alchemy Read online

  “Karma,” Basil interjected, “she got what she deserved.”

  “How do you figure that?” Annie asked.

  “It’s payback. Look what she did to me. This was the work of a nasty, vicious person.”

  “She apologized to you and Zoey, she tried to make it up to you.”

  “Don’t bring me into this, I’m not saying another word.” I was staying out of this conversation, because if I didn’t, I might say something I’d regret.

  “There’s no apology acceptable for this,” Basil ranted, pointing at his broken horn. “Do you think ‘Oops. Sorry’ would be okay if I ripped your arm off?”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

  “And you’re impossible.”

  The two of them were behaving like spoiled brats. I’d had just about enough of them, at least for this morning.

  “Stop it, both of you,” I said, interrupting them. “You’re giving me a headache. Can’t you agree to disagree? You don’t have to like the same people. We’re family, and all this arguing is counterproductive.”

  “Fine, I’ll go read my bartenders guide.” Annie loaded the dishwasher and stomped out of the kitchen.

  I looked at Basil, “Bartending?”

  “Don’t ask me, must be another one of her harebrained schemes.”

  Later that morning, Basil came flying down the stairs. He soared into the kitchen, calling out for Bella, “Bella, let’s get started.” He had an apron looped over his head and tied under his wings; he didn’t have a waist, so it was the only way it would stay on.

  Bella drifted down through the ceiling. “No need to yell. I’m not deaf.”

  “You’re cooking together?” I had a hard time believing that, I knew they were getting along, but cooking together?

  “Yeah, Bella’s goin’ on vacation. So we’re making big batches of chili, sausage casseroles, shepherd’s pie…”

  “Whoa, hold on. A vacation, Bella? You never take time off. You always said you couldn’t leave, and that you’d be bored to death on your own.”

  Basil interrupted before Bella could respond, “Who said she was goin’ alone?”

  “You met someone!” I said, placing my hand over my mouth. I didn’t want to think about the possibility that she wouldn’t come home.

  Bella’s face turned bright red, which was quite a trick for a ghost, and she wouldn’t look me in the eye. “He’s just a friend. He wants to show me his castle.”

  “Castle? He has a castle?”

  “It’s on some Scottish island, and I’d like to see the ocean. Apparently, his whole family is there and wants to meet me.”

  “Are you coming back?” I asked, Bella deserved a good afterlife, but I would miss her terribly. “Do we get to meet him? What’s his name?”

  “Of course, I can’t leave you three on your own for very long. No telling what you’d get up to. I’ll introduce you when we return.”

  I smiled at that, Bella was part of our family and if she had a beau, then we would welcome him with open arms.

  As I turned to leave for the office, something occurred to me. “Where are you going to put all the stuff you’re making? Our freezer doesn’t hold very much.”

  Basil opened the pantry door and bowed, “Ta-da, a brand new chest freezer.”

  That made me smile—I just hoped Basil had paid for that freezer and not me.

  Paperwork—I hated the stuff. It seemed no matter how hard I tried, it just kept coming. I had spent the morning paying bills, sending out invoices and chasing down an elusive painter. I’d hired a local handyman to touch up the paint work, but the fingerprint dust shadows had popped right back. Now I had bright white trim with ghostly shadows, and it looked like hundreds of hands were creeping around the walls.

  A knock on the door broke my concentration.

  “Hello, anyone here?” a voice called out as the door swung open. A tall, stocky gentleman strutted in, a gold medallion swaying behind his partially buttoned shirt. There was something familiar about him that I couldn’t quite place. Peeking from behind him looking like she’d rather be somewhere else, was Francesca Santoro.

  “Come in. How may I help you?” I asked putting on my best serious look. I knew I’d regret working here in the daytime.

  The man reached for my hand and pumped it vigorously. “Domenic Delgrosso, pleased to meet you,” I shook my fingers to get the blood flowing, “and this is my fiancée, Francesca Santoro.”

  The infamous mob boss himself—no wonder he looked familiar. I thought they used the mortuary over in Clayson. Never one to turn down new business, I plastered a smile on my face and gestured toward the chairs.

  “Ms. Santoro and I have met before. Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you my dear and just Dom will suffice. We’re here concerning Phineaus Pratt,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

  “Oh? Mr. Pratt was quite specific concerning his burial wishes.” I had just been checking over his contract, so I had it handy. I held up the signed contract to show Dom.

  “You misunderstand me, I’m not trying to remove him from your care. I just want to ensure that he gets a proper send off. He was an extraordinary gentleman and deserves the appropriate honors.”

  “Were you related to Mr. Pratt?” I asked, this was odd, I’d never had someone turn up wanting to check up on a stranger’s funeral arrangements.

  “No no, but we were close. Colleagues you might say. Now, let’s get to the details. What caskets are available?”

  Colleagues—a wizard and a mob boss? I guess there were stranger affiliations. “Umm…Mr. Pratt requested cremation. He didn’t want the fuss or expense of a burial. And I was under the impression that there was to be no service. He made the arrangements himself years ago.”

  Dom waved his hands and shook his head, “Money is no object, my dear. I want the best for my dear, dear friend.”

  “Let’s not go overboard, Dom. After all, it’s just a…”

  “No, no, I must have the best. It’s not like you get a do over. Is it?” Dom interrupted Francesca, dismissing her concerns. If looks could kill, the one she gave Dom would have put him six feet under.

  “Let me take you through to the showroom, we have a nice selection of affordable caskets,” I said, hoping to calm Francesca’s anger. I was sure that Phineaus wouldn’t mind if his casket was upgraded, besides, business had been slow lately.

  “These are our most popular caskets,” I said, leading the pair toward the rental selection.

  “I like that one,” Francesca pointed to a plain oak casket. It was the one that Phineaus has selected years ago.

  “Are those rentals?” Dom asked, frowning.

  “Yes, they are. Ms. Santoro picked the same one Mr. Pratt ordered.”

  “No, that will never do. We don’t want a rental. Where are the best ones?”

  “These are our top of the line mahogany caskets. They’re quite popular,” I explained as we walked through to the next section.

  “I’m looking for something with a bit more pizzazz. Something out of the ordinary,” Dom replied, as he wandered over to the stainless steel and bronze section. He ran his hands over a brushed bronze casket. “Now this is more like what I envisioned.”

  “That’s the Heritage Bronze half couch model. It has a tufted head panel, and the interior is almond velvet, in the French Fold style.”

  Francesca’s eyes widened and her face blushed an angry red as she looked at the price tag. She grabbed Dom’s arm and tried to pull him away. “What are you doing? You’re being ridiculous. That’s a total waste of money.”

  Dom staggered backward, his hand hesitating over the open lid of the casket. His eyes grew dim, his face flickered and then went slack. He looked confused as he turned stretching out his arms toward me. A voice unlike his own cried for help. His face contorted into a grimace and the gleam returned to his eyes.

  What the heck just happened? “Are you okay?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t having a stroke. �
��Can I get you some water? Maybe you should sit down. Should we call a doctor?”

  Francesca motioned for me to get a chair and forced Dom to sit. “I told you it was too soon. Now look what’s happened.”

  “I’m fine, nothing to worry about, it was just a momentary lapse. I’m fine, just fine,” Dom shook himself, took a deep breath and leapt up. “This is perfect, I’ll take it.” Dom clapped his hands and spun in a circle. He grabbed Francesca’s hand and marched back to the office. “Now, let’s go over the viewing and service arrangements.”

  Finalizing Phineaus’ funeral plans turned out to be an exercise in extravagance. Francesca sat quietly simmering; I was sure words would be spoken when they left. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes tonight.

  “I estimate that there will be between one and two hundred guests for the viewing, service and interment. It will be a gathering of the greatest minds of the day. I’ve already sent out the invitations.”

  Francesca couldn’t keep silent, “What?” she screeched.

  “Be quiet Frannie, it’s my funeral and I’ll do what I want,” Dom shushed her and turned back to me. “Sorry, I meant his funeral, I think of it as mine because it’s so much fun.”

  “I understand, but interment? Mr. Pratt requested cremation.”

  “No, no, no. I can’t have that. He was worried about the cost, but I don’t have that worry. Besides, I’ve already made the arrangements. He’ll be interred in the family crypt at Pleasant Valley Cemetery. It’s close to my home, so I can visit whenever I feel the need. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

  “That’s fine. I’m sure Mr. Pratt wouldn’t mind.” It wasn’t like he could object at this point.

  “No, he certainly won’t,” Dom replied with a wistful smile. “Well, if that’s all, we must be off. I’ll have the suit sent over the day before the funeral. How much do I owe you, I’ll make out the check now.”

  After handing me the check Dom practically skipped out of the office, dragging the sullen Francesca behind him. Throughout the entire process, he had looked like a kid in a candy store, aside from the slight hiccup. Francesca on the other hand, had looked like she wanted to throttle him. He had spent two hours picking out the flowers, champagne and orchestra. He even ordered a marching band to accompany the casket to the cemetery. Our funerals normally cost a few thousand dollars, but this one ran into the six figures. All in all, a lucrative if not strange afternoon.

  “I just had the strangest meeting with Domenic Delgrosso,” I said as I turned on the popcorn machine. Basil ignored me; he was engrossed in a Red Dead game. “He wanted to arrange Phineaus Pratt’s funeral. He changed everything, including interring him in his family crypt rather than cremating him. You’ll never guess who was with him.”

  Basil paused his game. “Probably Francesca. He knew the old buzzard?”

  “Apparently. He said he’s invited hundreds of people to the funeral, and Francesca didn’t even try to stop him.”

  “How does a wizard get involved with a mob boss? And how would he know who to invite?”

  “I don’t know. He said Phineaus was a colleague, so he must have met some of his wizard friends. All I know is this gig will pay for a kitchen update.” I’d been itching to renovate the kitchen, and now we’d have the extra funds to do it.

  “You can update the kitchen any time you want, I’ll pay for it. I’m rich, you know,” Basil said as he turned back to his game.

  “I know, but it feels better when you work for it.”

  “Work for it? You have the cushiest job on the planet.”

  “Delgrosso was wearing a medallion, and I’m sure it’s the one Dante is looking for.” I pulled the lead from the extra box Skye had given me and bent it into a makeshift envelope. If I got the chance, I’d try to slip it off him at Phineaus’ funeral.

  The sound of rattling bottles came from the stairway. “Hey. Give me a hand?” Annie shouted as she staggered in with a carton full of alcohol. “There’re more boxes out there, mixers and stuff.”

  “What’s all this for—are you planning on getting drunk?” I asked as I dragged the boxes over to Basil’s console, where Annie was lining up bottles.

  “I need to practice.” Annie handed me a list of what looked like mixed drinks and cocktails. “You order something and I’ll make it.”

  “You’re serious about bartending? Why?” I asked incredulously, “You’re not going to juggle those bottles, are you?”

  “The visitations and services need something extra—they’re just so dull. So I thought a bar would liven things up. The visitors will love it! And no juggling. That’s just tacky.”

  I had visions of weeping drunk mourners passed out in the pews. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, funerals are supposed to be somber affairs.”

  “Don’t be a spoil sport, Z,” Basil said as he grabbed the drink list from my hand. “Haven’t you heard of a wake? The Irish don’t mourn a death, they celebrate a life.” Basil giggled while reading the list. “This is a good one. I’ll have a Corpse Reviver.”

  “One Reviver coming up. What can I get you, Zoey?”

  “That’s a terrible name,” I grabbed the list from Basil, scanning the oddly named drinks. “I’m not sure I like the sound of these. How about a G and T instead?”

  “It’s not on the list; just pick one.”

  Annie started tapping her foot, so I played along. “Fine. I’ll have a Gimlet then.”

  Annie rolled her eyes at me, but gave me my drink.

  “That was fast, same again?” Annie smiled as Basil drained his glass.

  “Of corpse,” Basil sniggered and handed her his glass. “Make it a double this time.”

  “Bartender, I’d like a Zombie please,” I said, Annie just might have hit on something. “Maybe we should think about adding a Dead Joke Funeral series.”

  Basil grinned and added, “You could have one called Dead Again, for all those undead guys. Hit me again.”

  The hits just kept coming, along with the bad jokes. Needless to say, we all passed out in the attic, and Annie and I woke up the next morning with major hangovers. Basil, on the other hand, wasn’t suffering any ill effects.

  Chapter 17

  “They’re gonna try to find Chloe today.” Basil was attempting to juggle with my scepter and a bowling pin he’d found in a closet.

  “Put that down. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean you get to take his stuff.” I had just sucked up Sparky the clown, aka Sam Nester. His home was chock full of clown paraphernalia and Basil was poking around in the mass of junk.

  “Some of these are vintage collectibles. Look at this.” Basil pulled a tin toy out of a box: it was a clown holding a hoop, with a mangy-looking dog sitting beside him. He wound the key, and the clown began to spin in circles while the dog jumped through the hoop. “This is worth some hard cash.”

  “I’m sure his relatives will appreciate it. Put it back. It’s time we left; my head is killing me.”

  “You’re no fun today. If you can’t hold your liquor, you shouldn’t drink,” Basil sulked, pushing the toy around with his foot.

  Skye called as we walked out the door; the mothers, Sally and Juniper, were ready to cast the location spell. She asked if we wanted to watch. They hoped that with five witches casting, locating Chloe would be a simple matter. Basil and I were eager to watch, and we arrived within half an hour.

  “Where are your hats?” Basil asked when we arrived. Everyone ignored him and moved into the dining room where the table had been prepared, where a map was surrounded with burning candles and incense.

  This was not a stereotypical gathering of witches around a cauldron. Sally, Juniper and Hilda wore colorful skirts, peasant blouses and a multitude of necklaces and bangles. Skye and Noah wore jeans and t-shirts. They all joined hands and performed the spell, each chanting in turn. As the chanting increased in speed and volume, the map began to glow blue and finally burst into flames. When the flames died down, all that was left w
as a small piece of the map. Skye spread it out on an identical map and placed the scrap on top. She moved it around until it was in the correct position. “She’s here. But it’s in the middle of the woods.”

  “There must be a cabin out there or a barn,” Hilda said hopefully as she ran her finger over the scrap. I hoped so too, the alternative was worrying.

  Basil must have read my mind because he offered to go and check it out. While he was gone, the moms made tea and discussed how they would mount a rescue. Noah quickly shut them down, he pointed out that they couldn’t all go tromping through the woods—it had to be done quickly and quietly. Sally reminded him that he was injured, and since they were all witches, they were quite capable of being quiet. Hilda settled the argument by insisting that Chloe’s safety had to come first. The kidnappers were dangerous, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill Chloe and anyone else who tried to interfere. The decision that Basil and I would go was a forgone conclusion, since I could cloak and Basil could fly. One look at Noah’s face told me not to argue when he insisted that he was going to join us. The rest of the group would wait in the cars, outside the woods.

  “What if they have more of those cursed bullets?” Sally asked. “You could be killed, Zoey.”

  “Not if they can’t see me. I’ll be fine, and Basil will be with me. The bullets, cursed or not, will just bounce off him.”

  “The curse won’t kill you,” Hilda said wringing her hands. “I didn’t do what they asked, I couldn’t. It just slows down reapers.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said, relieved that it wasn’t a killing curse. “Is there a spell that puts people to sleep?”

  “Good idea,” Noah nodded his head and pulled his mother away. “Mom, show me a knockout spell.”

  Noah was a quick learner and mastered the spell in record time. While we waited for Basil to return, we discussed the scroll problem.

  Noah had spoken to Sam Wheatly the day he was shot. “Sam wasn’t much help, he said he had no idea that there was a problem.”

  “Actually, I’m surprised he talked to you at all,” I replied, “He was acting strangely at Felix’s viewing, he followed you around. I don’t think he ever got over losing his sister and I’m sure he’s still holding a grudge.”