“I usually go after the monsters,” I said.
He pursed his lips before speaking. “You still did. But I think you’re missing the point here.”
It was my turn to raise a brow.
“You’ve often doled out vengeance against the supernatural. Sometimes, justice for the mortals wronged. But what about justice for both at times?”
I blinked, never having considered that.
Church went on. “You brought vengeance against two men who’d killed innocents for greed. You achieved some level of justice for those murdered, but…you also helped put their angered shades to rest.” He clapped my shoulder twice. “Think on that.”
I sat down as a warmth enveloped my arm. When I looked, the tattoo was gone.
And so was Church, without a trace.
So I waited until my soul left my borrowed body, thinking on what he’d told me. Justice and vengeance.
Two very different kinds ofpayback.
The Broom
A Great Lakes Grimoire Story
Kerrie L. Hughes
June 6, 2015
Madison, Wisconsin
A tall, slender young woman with strawberry blond curls, a heart-shaped face, and oddly large aqua eyes waited under a canopy in front of a two-story triangular building. It was located on the corner of State and Broom Streets and had aFor Salesign on the door. The boarded-up windows were plastered with posters directed at the large population of college students.
The unseasonably cold rain whipped a wind off the nearby lake, making her wish she’d worn more than jeans, a light jacket, and canvas shoes. She shivered and fiddled with the charm bracelet on her wrist. Gray days reminded her of her mother; she loved a dreary afternoon and the smell of a cold wind. Eilonwy preferred sunny mornings.
A tall young man with sandy-blond hair and similarly large eyes, but more blue than aqua, joined her. He wore jeans, boots, and a black leather biker jacket and was carrying a blue motorcyclehelmet and leather gloves. He looked like their father, but was more like their mother in his enjoyment of stormy weather, and often rode his bike without a care for the elements.
“Taran, there you are. I don’t suppose the Realtor called you? She’s late,” Eilonwy asked her one-year-younger brother.
“She did. I just came from her office, I have the keys,” he said while holding out five keys on a ring.
“That’s odd, why would she trust us?” Eilonwy asked, even though she suspected it was because her brother was effortlessly charming.
“She told me the building is haunted,” he answered with a grin.
“Why are you smiling?”
“She also told me the owner doesn’t want to deal with it anymore, he wants to sell it, and it’s in our price range.”
A whoosh of air came down the pedestrian-only street, and Eilonwy shivered.
“Let’s get inside and I’ll explain.” Taran opened the front door, let her in, and then closed the door and latched it behind them.
Eilonwy found the light switches and flipped them on. The building was as triangular inside as it was outside. A counter split the middle of the room, kitchen on the right, customers on the left. “This isn’t as dirty as I expected it to be,” she commented.
Taran put his helmet and gloves on the counter and pulled folded papers out of his jacket.
“The history I researched says the place was built in 1888 and has been everything from a shoe store to a pharmacy. It’s called flatiron style, whatever that means, and an Italian family bought it in 1964 and turned it into a restaurant. They lived upstairs, but it’s since been converted into seating space.”
Eilonwy sniffed the air. “I can still smell the spices in the walls, smells delicious.”
