P.C. Cast - Mysteria Nights

“Um, a circus,” Harmony blurted. Good one . “Yes, we had a bit of a circus here yesterday after services.” That wasn’t really lying, was it?

Mama brought her hands together in delight. “Isn’t it wonderful, Jake? Our girl’s as creative in spreading the good word as you.”

Harmony shrank back in shame as her father puffed himself up. “I’m proud of you, Harmony. So proud of what you’ve done here in so short of a time.”

Oh, boy. If you only knew .

“You got someone to put in sprinklers,” Jake commented. “Looks like a first-class job. You didn’t do it yourself, did you?”

“I did,” said a familiar deep voice.

Harmony’s heart bounced as Damon strode toward the group, a length of PVC pipe and a new sprinkler head in one hand, his other hand extended in welcome. “I’m Damon, the church groundskeeper.” Dressed in clean clothes, his hair brushed neatly away from his freshly shaven face, Damon looked so bright and alert that no one would ever guess he’d been doing anything other than . . . well, than what he’d been doing all night.

Harmony blushed; she couldn’t help it. “I’d been looking for someone to hire, a handyman and groundskeeper, when Damon came along looking for work. He’s been wonderful, such a help, a blessing, truly.”

At her gushing, Damon seemed almost bashful. The part that touched her the most was that it wasn’t an act. “Reverend Faithfull needed someone for the heavier work so she could concentrate on the church. I’ve been busy making repairs and working in the fields”—he pulled a plump ear of corn from his overalls pocket, to the obvious delight of her family—“and once Harmony approves the plans I’ve drawn up for the barn, Mysteria Community Church will have a new social hall and gym.”

“We will?” Shocked, Harmony watched Damon withdraw a folded piece of paper from his pocket. On it was a detailed drawing that he’d clearly spent a lot of time on and that she’d known nothing about. “Well,” she said, “as you can see, Damon is indispensable.”

Eudora cackled and patted his hand. “I see a lot of things about Damon.”

Harmony’s smile was wooden at best. Why, oh, why did she have to have a seer as a great-grandma? Why couldn’t she have a normal family, who wouldn’t be able to tell that she’d acquired a decidedly out-of-the-ordinary boyfriend?

“You’re a good boy,” the old woman said. Then she winked. “Good, good, good.”

Damon coughed. It was the first time Harmony had seen him blush.

Eudora ran an admiring gaze over Damon’s muscular frame, nodding, her eyes crinkling, then she gave Harmony an admiring, conspiratorial he’s-hot wink before hobbling away to lead the clan to the house.

Harmony sidled up to Damon as her family walked on ahead. Pointing to her eyes, she whispered, “She’s a seer. She can read thoughts sometimes. Just don’t say it out loud.”

“But she knows, lass. She knows what I am.”

“She knows what you were .” Harmony took a deep, calming breath. “And all we have to do is keep the rest of the family from finding out.”

It was like old times with the family hanging around the kitchen counters and table just like they did in the big house in Oakland. After everyone had had a tour of the property, the church, and the house, Harmony prepared a late brunch, laughing and catching up.

Bacon sizzled in a cast-iron pan; grits bubbled thickly in a pot, while Mama stirred gravy for the fluffy, towering biscuits in the oven. Eudora sat at the table, sucking on her false teeth, while the men argued about basketball. “We didn’t have basketball in Scotland,” Damon was telling them.

“Hoops after breakfast,” Robbie decided.

Her father wouldn’t hear of letting Damon sneak away to work, and held him captive in the kitchen as if he were already a member of the family. Damon soaked up the noise and laughter. Harmony’s heart squeezed tight when she realized that this was something he’d never had—a family.

This was all going much better than she’d expected. When was the other shoe going to drop?

It’s not going to drop . After yesterday’s disaster, what could happen today that would be worse than that? Smiling, Harmony set the table, expanded with two extra leaves, and placed a strawberry dipped in powdered sugar as a garnish next to each person’s antique china coffee cup.

She straightened, admiring the festive look the fruit and china brought to the table, and was about to tend to the bacon when in the corner of her eye she saw something move.

She blinked. Surely it was lack of sleep playing tricks with her vision. Please, Lord, let it be that .

She waited for more movement. Nothing. She was seeing things. As soon as the food was ready, everyone sat around the table. Damon, bless his sweet heart, pulled out her chair, taking cues from her father and brother Jake, who did the same for Mama and Eudora.

Even though only one-third of the Faithfulls were in attendance, they were a noisy group, and the conversation filled the small kitchen. Dishes were passed around. When everyone’s plates were filled, they joined hands to say grace.

In the hush that came over the room, Harmony’s coffee cup scraped sideways. Her hand shot out, stopping it. “Fly,” she explained urgently, her heart in her mouth. “They’re really in abundance this time of year.”

The moving cups had been no trick of her eyes. She prayed for inspiration, for an excuse, an explanation, anything at all to hop into her head and out her mouth, but the prospect of monsters from Hell appearing while her family was here had all but paralyzed her.

“Hold Great-grandma’s hand, baby,” her mother urged. “Your father wants to say grace.”

Ever so reluctantly, Harmony withdrew her hand from the cup and slid her fingers back into Eudora’s cool, dry palm. As Reverend Faithfull’s resonant voice boomed, everyone’s eyes were closed, except for Harmony’s. Eyes wide open, she stared at the cup. But from across the table, she heard a soft scrape. Heart pounding, she watched three of the cups slide across the table, pushed by the strawberries. Switching positions, the cups moved around in some sort of paranormal shell game. Harmony made a squeak, and both Eudora and Damon squeezed her hands.

“He plays with you because you don’t know how to fight him,” the old woman whispered. Instinctively, Harmony knew her great-grandmother meant the Devil himself. “If you fight his evil with goodness, he’ll lose interest and cease his games. Not forever, mind you, but for now.”

Damon murmured back, “My powers, they are gone.”

Eudora clucked in disapproval. “They’re different now, your powers, not gone, and stronger than ever for the enemy you will face for a lifetime.”

Mama opened an eye. “We will discuss the flies once your father is done speaking.”

They were silent for a moment, then their furtive whispering continued.

“Harmony has never accepted she has powers,” Eudora continued, “but she’s come into them now. It’s what drew you to her, Damon, and her to you. And what still attracts Satan to you both. He feels the power, the power of good, and it threatens him.”

With that scary thought lingering in the air, Harmony’s father finished grace. “Amen,” they all said, and with a clattering of plates, silverware, and voices, the brunch began.

Harmony’s appetite had vanished. Damon sat tense and ready for battle.

“Who moved the strawberries and mugs during grace?” Jake Jr. asked, laughing. “You, Robbie?”

His little brother looked indignant. “It wasn’t me.”

“When we were kids, we used to play pranks when everyone’s eyes were closed during grace,” Harmony explained to Damon. To the others, she said, “I . . . um, thought it’d be fun to take a trip down memory lane.”