TWO HOURS LATER, GRANDPA AND I unloaded our haul in his laboratory, which was the shed behind the house. I watched with great interest as he counted out my frogs and transferred them to the aquariums they would live in for the next day or so, until it came time to turn them into potions, something I didn’t like to think about and a process I never watched.
“Seventy-five,” Grandpa announced when he was done. “That’s pretty good.”
I made a face. “Pretty good? That’s freaking awesome. Come on.”
He laughed and then turned to his pillowcase. It bulged with frogs, but I was positive I had him beat. It took him a full five minutes to transfer the frogs, and when he got to seventy-five, I realized there were still a few frogs in his pillowcase.
“No way.” I glared at the offending seventy-sixth frog as he pulled it from the case. “How?”
“I’m a master,” he said, grinning. “I told you that.”
“Yeah, but ... I always beat you.”
“Or do I let you beat me because I enjoy watching you work?”
I furrowed my brow. “Well this blows.”
His chuckle was light and full of amusement. “You’ll survive a full weekend of frog duty. Maybe I’ll make frog legs with the extra for dinner next Saturday. How does that sound?”
It sounded like punishment. “I hate frog legs.”
“How about a crawfish boil instead? I can catch the crawfish while you’re handling the frogs.”
Ugh. Now he was hitting below the belt. He knew how much I loved a good crawfish boil. “I guess.”
He laughed and pulled me in for a surprise hug, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I was at that awkward age where I balked at hugs, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally bestowing one on me.
“I love you, Izzy,” he said in a low voice. “Your parents loved you too. That’s one thing we have in common.”
I went warm all over at the words. “I love you too. I still wanted to win.”
“There’s always next time.”
Oh, I was definitely going to win next time. “I think you might’ve cheated.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” I’d been trying to figure it out myself. “I just think you did.”
“You can’t always win,” he admonished. “Sometimes it’s okay to just do your best.”
“But I like to win.”
“So do I.” He gave me another squeeze and then released me. “I won today. Tomorrow is another day.”
“I guess.” I blew out a sigh. “How does gumbo sound?”
“Are you cooking?”
“I lost. It’s my turn.”
“Gumbo sounds great. Make mine with extra okra.”
Somehow I knew he would say that.
One
Present Day
“I need new parents.”
From my desk in the basement of the Belle Isle Aquarium, I couldn’t help but smile at the petulant teenage voice coming through my co-worker’s computer. Sami Winters was nothing if not blunt, and apparently she was having a rough day in mid-Michigan … and, if she was to be believed, her parents were the source of her ill humor. Her godmother, Paris Princeton, worked for me. She talked with Sami at least three times a week on work time, with my blessing, and the conversations often revolved around the same topic.
“You don’t need new parents,” Paris replied, her eyes on the report our other co-worker Oliver Samuelson had just supplied her with. You have great parents.”
Sami’s expression was dark. “I do not. They’re the worst. Do you want to know what they did?”
“Not particularly,” Paris replied.
Sami barreled forward anyway. “I got invited to a party.”
“Oh, yeah?” Paris brightened considerably. “Does that mean you’re making new friends?”
“No, and I don’t know why you seem so surprised.” When I risked a glance at Paris’s monitor, I found a sulky Sami glaring from her location. “I’m a fun girl. People everywhere like me.”
“That’s something your mother would say,” Paris said. “Even when half the campus wanted to kill her at college, she claimed everybody loved her.”
“Mom is delusional. She has, like, three people who like her.”
“Do you include yourself on that list?”
“Not today.” Sami had a theatrical flair that made me laugh. She loved irritating those around her, including her parents. She was feisty, mouthy and a powerful mage-in-training. Her mother had earned a reputation as the most fearsome mage in the land. I was starting to believe Sami would topple Zoe from her throne at some point, but for now hormones kept getting in the teenager’s way.
“I think you’re too hard on your parents,” Paris said reasonably. “They only want what’s best for you.”
“I haven’t told you what they’ve done,” Sami shot back. “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”
Paris’s response was perfunctory. “Of course. Lay it on me.”
“So, I got invited to this party,” Sami said, rubbing her hands together as she glanced over her shoulder. The computer appeared to be in a common room, either a library or living room, and it was obvious Sami didn’t want her parents to overhear.
“You mentioned that,” Paris prodded.
“I just wanted to get you caught up again in case you forgot,” Sami snapped.
“No, you like to build to a dramatic crescendo when telling a story, just like your mother.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sami’s eye roll was pronounced. “It’s a bonfire party. For boys and girls.”
“Ah.” Paris smiled. “It’s one of those parties.”
“It is, and I told Mom and Dad about it because I had no choice. They won’t allow me out after dark without a chaperone, which is total crap.”
“Or them trying to keep you safe,” Paris said. “Continue.”
“So I asked them if I could go to the party and they said they had to think about it,” Sami explained. “They thought for a full day. Like, a full twenty-four hours. When I asked them about it, they said they were still thinking, and every time I asked them for an answer it meant that they were going to drag it out longer so I had better stop asking if I wanted an answer before menopause.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. That sounded like something Aric and Zoe would do. They were interesting parents, the sort I hoped to be able to measure up to when I got to the same point in my life. That was a long way off given the things we were dealing with now, so I pushed the notion out of my head. Hungry revenants were crawling all over my life these days and there was no way I would subject a child to that.
“So they finally came up with an answer,” Sami said, her voice growing darker. “And do you know what they did?”
“Said ‘no?’” Paris looked confused at the prospect. “That doesn’t sound like them.”
“They didn’t say ‘no,’” Sami countered. “They told me they volunteered to chaperone the bonfire party. Apparently Shelby Falls’ parents needed more people to help out and they volunteered.”