Chapter 10
By the time we made it to Vinnie’s, the rain had started. It came in fits and bursts, some drops large and fat, others scant and light.
When he walked through Vinnie's front door, the man popped his head up from his desk like a meerkat. Then a grin slow and steady spread across his lips. If he could have unhinged his jaw, it would probably have spread all the way around his head.
“Ladies,” he said as he brought his arms up wide and expressively. “You've come to the right place.”
Classic Vinnie. No “hello,” no “how are you,” no “I haven't seen you for years,” just straight into business.
“You need a car, and boy have I got the car for you,” he walked up to me winking my way.
I wasn't about to ask how he knew that it was me that needed the vehicle; he was my magical cousin, even if he didn't share the family trade.
“Vincent,” my grandmother's voice bottomed out, and she sounded exactly like a boom of lightning.
Vincent, the smile freezing in place, turned, one of his eyebrows twitching. “Mary... you seem... less demented than usual.”
She stopped thumbing her pearls and bowed slightly. “I am afraid circumstances dictate a far more heavy-handed approach right now.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “How can I help you?”
“Do you expect me to tell you? Vincent Sinclair, use your nous.”
Licking his lips, Vincent brought up his hands, plucked the crumpled handkerchief out of his pocket, and patted his brow. “You always were a hard woman, Mary. But very well. I accept the challenge.” He turned to me, looked me up and down slowly, grated his teeth together, then clicked his fingers. “You want to buy a car.”
I snorted with laughter. “We've already ascertained that, Vinnie. You aren’t going to get any points for stating the obvious.”
He shrugged, opening his hands wide. “Not having a good morning, Esme? You're a bit more snide than usual. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”
“She is lucky to still have one, the way her life is currently going. Now, Vinnie, stop wasting my time. I want you to find the best car you have. The most powerful car you have. A car fitting for my granddaughter.”
Vinnie recoiled slightly, glancing over at Mary, then back at me, then out at his car yard beyond the large glass window before us.
“Are you sure you want the most powerful car I have?”
“Vincent Sinclair, get on with it. We have a lot to do today,” my grandmother chided.
Vincent latched hold of his bowtie, wiggled it around as he straightened it, clapped his hands together, and then shrugged towards his car yard.” Right.”
With that we followed him outside.
I glanced up at the grey, swirling mass of cloud above us, and as I did, a few dribbles of rain dashed against my cheeks. I reached up my cold fingers to wipe them off.
The wind was so wild that the clouds seemed to churn. Fast and ferocious, as I stared up at them, my brain began to pick out shapes among the chaos.
Faces, and not particularly nice ones.
Magic? Or just my addled brain finding danger when none was present?
I would have to find out.
“Okay, well this is my most powerful car,” Vinnie took us over to a giant, monstrous four-wheel drive. It had huge tires, a raging bull bar, and doors that were almost a meter off the ground.
I couldn't say anything; my bottom lip just tugged open of its own accord.
My previous car had been a small hatchback. Manageable, nice, and good with petrol.
It had not been a monster truck.
My grandmother placed a hand on the bull bar, squinted through the windscreen, then she walked around the vehicle, kicked the tires, crossed her arms, and looked impressed. “It certainly seems powerful.”
“It is,” Vinnie clapped his hands together. “You could take on a train with this thing.”
A train? Why on earth would you want to take on a train with a car? I just wanted to get from one place to another, just a simple drive through the city, economical, easy, and safe. That didn't equate to a monster truck.
Pressing my hand into my neck, I arched my shoulders.
“We'll take it.” My grandmother nodded definitively at Vinnie who burst into an immediate, almost infectious grin.
I spluttered. “No we won’t. This is ridiculous. I'm not driving a monster truck.”
“It is the most powerful vehicle he has. We must surround you with the most powerful things we can find. Until the threat to this family has subsided, you will follow my lead,” my grandmother added at the end in a low, serious tone.
Though I had snapped my mouth open ready to protest, I couldn't challenge her, not when she was looking like that. Instead I looked pointedly at the monster truck, then down at the enormous wheels. “Where would I ever park it? How would I change lanes? I mean, it's going to cost a fortune in petrol.”
“And if any malignant wizards or witches decide now is a good time to attack you, you can speed away into the forest or force them off the road,” she said primly.
I twitched at that. I honestly did. Drive off into the forest, force them off the road? This wasn't a movie. This was my life. I wasn't about to get into frantic, ridiculous car chases with evil magical creatures. It didn't work like that. I knew the rules of this game. They wouldn't kidnap me, chuck a brick through my window, or bundle me into their car. They would undermine my life with spells, enchantments, and hexes. And then, when I was at my weakest, they would strike.
I looked back at the monster truck. Could I really drive that? Did I really want to?
“Considering your family, I will cut you a deal. Interest free for...” Vinnie trailed off as he started to count on his fingers. “Three weeks.” He gave something you could confuse with a compassionate smile.
Three weeks? How generous.
My grandmother leaned in, settled her hand on the enormous bull bar, even though it was about up near her neck, and she bared her teeth. “I have a different deal. It's called free. I am your grandmother, Vincent Sinclair, I am the current head of this family. One of our own is in danger, we act to protect each other.”
Vinnie looked as if he wanted to protest, hell, Vinnie looked as if he wanted to call the police, but quickly his expression softened. “I'm a businessman, Mary, you can't expect me not to make profit,” he tried.
Granny raised her hand. The knuckles were stiff and white. “Vincent, do you remember when you had all that trouble with the law last year? Do you remember how Uncle Fred came to your aid? And you remember the year before that when you got into a spot of trouble with the Russians? Do you remember how Aunty Frida sorted that out for you? Do you remember the times you've been helped, Vincent?”
He took a step back, grabbed his handkerchief, and wiped it across his brow again. “But I'll be out of pocket.”
Granny leaned down, plucked an errant piece of plastic off the ground, dusted it off on her fine woolen skirt, and handed it to him. “If you are worried about an empty pocket, here's something to put in it. Now give us the keys and fill out the paperwork.”
I had to hand it to Granny; she could get what she wanted when she would put her foot down. But I didn't want the truck.
Staring back at it, gazing over the monstrosity, I honestly wondered how this day would end. Could I really turn into the kind of witch that ate salads, drove monster trucks, and bullied her cousins into giving her cars for free?
The alternative would, of course, be entirely more unpleasant. Death, or something like it.
As Vinnie got the keys, I glanced at my grandmother.
She arched her neck back, staring at the swirling mass of clouds above. For a moment the facade broke, and I saw underneath. A sharp, palpable spike of fear. I felt it, just like any perceptible witch should.
It reminded me of what was at stake, it grounded me to the situation. This was more than serious; it was desperate.
And if it were
desperate, I would find a way to clamber up into that car seat, and drive that huge thing. Though I really didn’t relish the idea of using it as a getaway vehicle, if I had to, I would. Because that was what a powerful witch would do.
Deal with what circumstances you are given, alter what you can, and craft what you want.