After dropping off Kenzie, I give Nick a small jar of healing ointment Matt bought for me in Santa Barbara. Thanks to his healing factor, Casper is able to move around a lot, but I made him promise me to take aspirin in case he has a headache.

In the meantime, we decide to celebrate by buying a fistful of car fresheners at the gas station, wash the blood off with Casper's mom's garden hose, and return to the boarding house, where we see Lea washing all the popcorn bowls in the sink. The living room is spotless; no crumb or popcorn lies on the floor.

Lea stretches her arms and approaches the ivory staircase. Her white, oversized Queen of Hearts shirt dances over her black shorts.

Once she looks at us, Lea nearly drops the bowl she's scrubbing and asks, "What the fuck happened to you guys?"

"We killed a Rougarou," Nick summarizes, trudging upstairs. "It was wrecking the town, so we killed it and saved Kenzie from her shitty boyfriend."

"Great," Lea huffs, shielding her nose with her left hand. "Anyway, Teddy, I gave your cat a bath and a lot of food. Just get rid of your shoes and take a long, hot shower. The same goes for you bozos."

"Gee, thanks," Casper remarks sarcastically.

As soon as the boys force themselves to march upstairs, I turn to Lea and ask if she's alright.

"I'm fine," she tells me. "Just a little tired, you know?"

"Yeah, me too," I laughed tiredly.

Running her fingers through her messy hair, Lea follows me upstairs, where we see Ichabod sleeping on top of my pillows.

Kicking off my shoes, I shuffle over to the bled and grab my underwear and clean clothes from my beaded handbag, only for my cat to sniff in my direction.

"Ugh," Ichabod comments. "Did you walk into a pile of elephant shit or something?"

I flash him a sarcastic smile. "No, but I did step on something pretty foul. Do you want to see it? I think I kept it in my pocket."

"What? No!" Ichabod yells, opening his yellowish-green eyes. "Why would you-"

He cuts himself off when he sees me pulling my hand from my blood-soaked pocket and giving him the middle finger in front of his face.

"Oh, haha," he replies snarkily. "Where the hell were you, anyway? What did you do?"

"Yeah, sorry," I answer with a sigh. "I went to Mexico, Canada, and that fancy country called 'Shut the fuck up, Ichabod.'"

"Guys!" Lea exclaims, clapping her hands together. "I love being the third wheel and all, but will you two stop fucking bickering? You're giving me a migraine."

I raise my hand meekly. "Sorry, I'll keep my voice down next time."

Lea bobs her head and snuggles under her bedsheets.

Holding my tiny bundle of clothes, I am about to tell Lea about Benji's notebook, but I decided to ask her tomorrow after St. George's funeral. I'm not sure how long it will last, but as long as I keep up with my time management skills, I can find a way to catch up with Lea.

*******
This morning, I show up downstairs in a black babydoll dress and a small pair of matching shorts. My curly dark brown hair hangs on my shoulders as I run my brown lipstick across my mouth.

"Hey, Teddy!" Lea exclaims, knocking on the bolted door. "Are you finished in there?"

"Yeah, sorry!" I shout, turning off the curling iron.

I awkwardly open the door to see Lea standing before me, looking surprised.

"Hey, whoa," she remarks. "What's with the dress?"

I rub my hands together. "I'm meeting Prometheus' family."

"Oh," said Lea, her smile fell short. "You mean. . . ."

"Uh, yeah."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I shake my head no. "No, it's alright. I'm fine."

Lea frowns and takes one good look at my stubby fingernails. "When was the last time you painted them?"

A nervous laugh escapes my throat. "I guess it's been a while."

"Come on," Lea beams. "How about I'll help you with your nails after your breakfast?"

"Uh, sure."

Warm sunlight hurls onto the orange walls and expansive windows. The smells of cooked food make my stomach rumble.

Lea and I walk past the African pottery. Our feet tread along the creaking floorboards until we notice the small spread on the table.

Calas, Eggs Hussarde, fried meats, and pancakes fill the porcelain plates. Beverages ranging from orange juice to milk sit on the white tablecloth.

Wolfing his breakfast down is Casper. He sports a long-sleeved, color-block collared shirt styled in bold red, gold, and orange colors, a plain white tee, and baggy denim jeans. He moves around in his trusty Adidas, then leans against his chair.

Nick, on the other hand, is slowly drinking his orange juice. He sets his glass beside his plate and then picks up his honey-smeared biscuit. He wears a black T-shirt and bluish-gray plaid pants.

Curling up on his lap is Ichabod, happily chewing on a small piece of tomato until Nick massages the cat's ears with his fingers.

Supplying the boys with more food is Casper's mother, a spirited woman in her late thirties wearing a pink buttoned-up top, white cargo pants, and a pair of old Birkenstocks. Her skin is a bit darker than mine. A colorful bandana wraps around her dark hair.

When Lea and I sit down, Casper's mother gives us a huge smile.

"Well, good morning, you two," she exclaims, removing her brown glasses. "How did you sleep?"

"We slept pretty well," I tell her. "Thank you for offering us a place to stay."

"It's no problem, hon." Casper's mother tells me. "I'm sorry we haven't introduced each other last night. I stayed up all night preparing for the festival."

Casper shoots her a stern look. "Mom, I told you not to stress yourself out. Take a spa day."

She anxiously wipes the foggy lenses with her pastel yellow apron and puts them back on.

"I'll be fine, honey." his mother reassures him. "I still got all my nine lives. Besides, don't you got some errands to run?"

Casper tosses around his breakfast with his fork. "Yes, Mom."

Picking the small amount of food with tongs, I put them on my plate and eat silently. I try to join the conversation, but I can only think about the meeting I'm going to have with Prometheus' family.

I'm so nervous I can barely eat my breakfast or drink a glass of orange juice without my hand tremble. Lea must've seen me freak out because she cut her breakfast time short, leave Nick and Casper in charge of Ichabod, and spend twelve minutes or so painting my nails green.

After that, Lea helps me slip my feet into my black, beaten-up Converse sneakers then leave me alone to tie my shoelaces.

As I take the time to regain my sanity, I head over to the Volkswagen Beetle, where I see Lea sitting in her seat wearing a long-sleeved, red-striped shirt, a pair of denim overalls, and brown boots.

At first, I try to convince her to go back. But being the worried best friend she is, Lea stays in her seat to make sure I'm not having a nervous breakdown. On the one hand, the place is about fifty miles from the boarding house, so we had to stop the trip short for gas, snacks, and cigarettes. On the other hand, Lea and I reach the small funeral home before the clock reached 11:30.

Tucking my keys inside, I enter the building where vanilla and peppermint greet me.

The saturated blue walls give off a sullen aura-at least, that's what I think. Books, files, and documents are stacked neatly on the lawyer's pristine desk.

Awards, plaques, photos, and innocent drawings scatter across the blue surface. The ceiling fan moves stiffly above my head, expressing discomfort with an anxious screech. As soon as I approach the untouched chairs, I sit in front of an older man in a black suit and introduce myself to Prometheus' lawyer.

"Thank you again for coming," he tells me. "Normally, we would go to my house, but it's under construction."

I shake my head. "That's alright. So, are we waiting for the family or-"

Two doors open as Prometheus' son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter enter the room. The couple has blond hair and blue eyes, while their daughter's hair is dark.

As for her eyes, I can't tell what color they are because they seem obscured by her long hair. The family wears different shades of black, from soft gray to midnight.

Lipstick, eyeliner, and concealer hide the flaws on the women's faces, whereas the son smells like he has just walked into a cologne department.

Twisting my nose, I try to stop sneezing, but I fail horribly.

"ACHOO!" I screech.

"Bless you," said the lawyer. "Alright, is everyone here?"

I bob my head in silence. I straighten my posture, even though I'm unsure what presents I'll receive.

Prometheus' family, on the other hand, sits in the antique chairs away from us. The couple's posture is calm and collected, whereas Rosie seems unsure if she should be here.

Shuffling the papers, the lawyer clears his throat and adjusts his thin glasses until Prometheus's daughter-in-law raises her hand.

"Yes?"

"Can we please get down to business already?" she asked impatiently. "The Drew Carey Show is starting, and I didn't have time to record it."

I curl my nose. The sight of her light strawberry-blonde hair disgusts me. Boredom lingers in her grayish-blue eyes. Her lacy, black dress drapes over her black stiletto heels as the lady leans towards the lawyer, staring him down.

This is Lilith St. George, Prometheus's daughter-in-law and low-functioning alcoholic.

A year after her father-in-law passed away, she decided to channel her problems by partying too hard and driving recklessly around the street until she killed a sixteen-year-old Hispanic kid in Washington Heights.

His parents tried to press charges against Lilith, but thanks to her dedicated lawyer, the judge sentenced Lilith to three years in a luxurious rehab facility in Aspen.

If that doesn't scream white privilege, I don't know what to tell you.

"So, now that we're here," she groans. "Tell us what stuff we are going to get."

Placing his hand on her shoulder, Darius looks sternly at his wife before casting an apologetic smile at his lawyer.

Darius St. George was regarded as a highly exceptional doctor, loving husband, and devoted son who cared for his father when he fell ill, attended his funeral, and became the first in the family to build a hospital dedicated to his father's name.

But I sneak brief looks at the thirty-two-year-old doctor and his intelligent wife; he wonders why a kind, respectful man would marry someone as racist and entitled as Lilith.

Did he see something magical in her or want her for her body?

The attorney is droning on about some property Prometheus acquired, but I tune him out until he mentions Rosie's assets.

"He left the entire estate and everything in that house to Rose when she comes of age," the attorney says. "St. George also divided all the money he had in his bank accounts and gave it to every student and teacher who attended Northwell."

"Okay, but what about us?" Lilith interrupts. "Did he leave us with anything of value?"

"Like what, his liquor cabinet?" I retort.

Rosie smiles a little until her father silences her with a firm glare.

"Hilarious, Theresa," snapped Lilith. "Nice joke."

"No, that hairstyle's a joke." I tell her. "Alcohol isn't. I'm surprised you didn't learn anything from rehab."

The lawyer snaps his fingers to grab our attention, places his hands on his table, and reads the documents addressed to me.

"As for Theresa Rosalie Crowe," he recites. "It doesn't pain me to say that you are very hard to forget. Your pranks, misadventures, and lack of accountability gave me headaches."

Prometheus wasn't wrong; I mean, I did very well in school - just not socially.

"Regardless," the lawyer continues. "I am so proud of you three and the effort you have put into your assignments. Theresa, you have proven to be a talented monster hunter and occult investigator repeatedly."

He turns his head to me and sighs, "And for that, I bequeath Theresa endless volumes of grimoires, journals, and priceless artifacts that will guide her journey to become a powerful sorceress."

Shooting stunned looks at me is Darius St. George. His hand grips the arm of his chair but shows no contempt for me. His wife, on the other hand, is not amused.

"That's bullshit!" Lilith exclaims. "My dad promised me he'll give me his prized heirlooms."

The family lawyer looks at the documents again and then shakes his head.

"I am sorry, Lily," he says. "St. George specifically wants his belongings to be in the hands of Theresa Crowe."

Frustrated, Lilith gets up and glares at the lawyer's wrinkled face.

"Darius and I took care of our father as if he was a bird who broke his wing." Lilith growls. "We called him every day, cooked for him, and made sure he hadn't missed any doctor's appointments."

I harden my jaw. "Okay, so why didn't you stand by him when he was falsely accused of being a pedophile?"

Lilith cuts her eyes at me. Darius tries to intervene, but she brushes him off and cocks her head in disgust.

"Are you seriously turning me into the bad guy here?" she asks coolly. "Because last I checked, you killed your swimming coach three years ago! Does the name George Weston ring any bells?"

Hearing that fucking name brought me back to high school. I recall every kid whispering behind me and giving me horrified stares as they listened to the story of a reclusive Theresa Crowe drowning Northwell's favorite swim coach in the gymnasium pool.

Thanks to an anonymous source, the police found tapes and photos of naked boys in George's house and believed me that I killed him in self-defense.

While I did save more boys from getting raped, every girl — except Lea — thought I was a murderer and avoided me like the plague.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I say sarcastically. "Maybe if you weren't busy running over teenagers, then you'd notice your BFF's a fucking pedophile."

"Fuck you-" snapped Lilith.

"Shut up, Lily!" Darius shouts. "What if she's right?"

Lilith stares at her husband again, then clenches her hands tight.

"Darius," she says softly. "What the hell are you saying?"

Darius sighs. He politely takes his daughter by the hand and gets up from the chair.

"I am saying we should let Theresa keep the items," he replies. "Rosie's turning eighteen soon. So, instead of fighting about it, we should prepare the mansion for her."

Lilith stares at Rosie, who is staring at the wooden Cross pinned to the wall. She keeps her hands firmly on her lap when Lilith drags her daughter out of her seat.

Darius drops his jaw. He demands to know where Lilith and Rosie are going, but instead of answering his questions, his wife grabs her items, ushers Rosie out of the door, and slams it in front of his face.

As for me, I say nothing. I thank the lawyer for his time, get up, and decide to go back to the car, where I see Lea sitting in her seat waiting for me. Conjuring my pair of keys, I activate the locks in my car and watch my best friend flinch. She opens her eyes, reaches in her left shoe, and retrieves her knife when Lea sees me enter the car.

"Holy fuck!" she cries. "Don't scare me like that, okay? I thought you were another fucking ghost!"

"Uh, sorry?" I answer slowly.

"It's fine." Lea inquires curiously. "Wait, is the meeting already over? Geez, that was quick."

"I know. Hey, do you want to grab some cheeseburgers or something on the way back?"

"Sure. Wait, does Louisiana even have burgers?"

I nod my head, start the car, and back out the parking lot. "Yep, and I know the perfect place to get one."
© kstorm68q