Jared choosing a new beta had been helpful as well. It left them time to attend functions like this one.
The stone statue of Beth lunging at Moona in full attack mode was now in the middle of a peace memorial park in the center of the village. However, most pack members—those that had stayed and supported her and Jared—used it primarily as a pee station when the urge hit their wolves.
“You’ve seen Nathaniel’s wings, Jared. How do you think they’ll be getting there?”
“Wolves were never meant to fly, Moona.”
Moona chuckled. “I was. I like flying.”
Jared sighed and held out a hand. “Fine. I need pills if we’re going to do this.”
Chuckling Moona went to her medicine cupboard and got him several. Jared popped them in his mouth and chewed while he finished dressing.
“Don’t you think flying might be bad for the baby?” he asked. “I know we’re not far along in the gestation yet, but I want to be careful.”
Moona looked down at her slightly protruding stomach and back to her mate. “No. They’re all fine with flying. Don’t worry though—I didn’t tell them their father was a chicken shit.”
“I’m not a chicken shit. I just… they? Did you just say they?” Jared demanded.
Moona nodded. “Willa says it’s triplets. Guess my body’s been saving up to have all my children at once.”
“I guess mine has too,” Jared said, still in shock. “Are you okay with having three children at once?”
“It’s not like I planned to have triplets, but the fact is that there are three,” Moona said dryly, not seeing the sense of worrying about what was to come. The multiple birth was happening as Gaia determined and she was being careful. It was the weight gain she was dreading… and feeling vulnerable. “Be grateful for today, Future Dad. I can’t promise anything about how I’ll feel tomorrow. I’m definitely going to need some help when they’re born. There’s also the little problem of not knowing what they will be.”
Jared stopped Moona’s spewing by putting a finger to her lips. “Doesn’t matter what they are. Wolves. Witches. Humans. It simply doesn’t matter. They’re ours. That fact I’m good with. Don’t go anywhere else in your head.”
Moona nodded and kissed his finger before backing away from it. “I can pretty much guarantee an alpha will be in the group. Willa saw it and said to prepare myself. I told her I was giving him or her over to you to raise. I’ll deal with the two who aren’t alphas.”
“Why?” Jared asked. “You’re an alpha.”
“Only when I have to be. The rest of the time I’m a busy Wolf Witch, Jared. You can’t expect me to do everything as your mate. I’m only giving you super responsibility for one of our three children. Buck up, Wolf. You can do this.”
Jared laughed at her teasing threats. “Buck up? That reminds me of deer and how hungry I am.”
“Jared, you promised you wouldn’t eat deer anymore. Willa feeds the ones at her house. They’re so cute.”
“And delicious,” Jared added with a grin. “Just ask your bobcat. Sha likes to go hunting with me. I can still take down bigger game, but only because she refuses to hunt as liger no matter how much I beg. Geez, I bet we could take down a bear with her liger. I wonder how bear tastes.”
Moona growled at her mate. “The dragons are providing dinner. I’m sure they’ll feed us.”
“Burnt food? That’s nothing special. I have that every night you get distracted.”
“I told you to hire a damn cook or learn to do it yourself. I can’t brew potions and cook meals. How in the world did you feed yourself before I came to live with you?”
Jared laughed. “If I tell you, we’ll be circling back to the whole deer debate again.”
Moona huffed and tried not to laugh. Her human side was appalled at the very idea of Jared hunting as a wolf for food every day. Her wolf thought Jared was being funny and clever. Three little flutters happened at the last thought as well.
Moona closed her eyes in realization and gave in to laughter. What else could she do? “Guess what I just learned. They’re wolves—all of the children. And they think their father is hysterically funny.”
Jared smiled and walked to kiss his wife. “They’ll also think their mother is amazing. Just wait and see.”
They looked up to see Willa walk out of the spare bedroom. She was dressed in a black witch’s robe over a sexy blue dress. She’d spent the night with them. “Are we ready to go yet? I’m excited. I was only there once.”
“Willa’s going too?” Jared asked.
Moona nodded. She grabbed Jared’s hand. “Yes. I asked her to come along since I’m so close to delivering.”
Jared sighed at his wife’s guilty look. He turned his attention to Willa. “If I get sick while we’re flying, you are never allowed to tell anyone in the pack. And you have to clean up this monkey suit I’m wearing.”
Willa smirked as she put a hand over her heart. “You have my word for both, Alpha Jared. Witch’s honor,” she vowed.
Moona smiled at her sister. “You look really sexy in that dress. Are you dragon hunting today?”
“Maybe,” Willa said. “Are you really ready to go?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Moona replied. She grabbed Jared by the wrist. “Now, Willa.”
“Wait… what? No, no, no, no. No magic transporting. I’m not going to risk getting sick in front of a whole cave full of fire breathers.”
Jared’s swearing filled the air but didn’t drown out the joyful laughter of the wicked witch he’d mated.
— THE END —
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Excerpt: Switching Hour
Book 1 of the original Magic and Mayhem Series
The story behind the series behind the Magic and Mayhem Universe!
Book Description
Released from the magic pokey and paroled with limited power is enough to make any witch grumpy. However, if you throw in a recently resurrected cat, a lime-green Kia and a sexy egotistical werewolf, it’s enough to make a gal fly off the edge.
* * *
Not to mention a mission… with no freaking directions.
* * *
So here I sit in Asscrack, West Virginia trying to figure out how to complete my mysterious mission before All Hallows Eve when I’ll get turned into a mortal. The animals in the area are convinced I’m the Shifter Whisperer (whatever the hell that is) and the hotter-than- asphalt-in-August werewolf thinks I’m his mate. Now apparently I’m slated to save a bunch of hairy freaks of nature?
* * *
If they think I’m the right witch for the job, they’ve swallowed some bad brew.
1
"If you say or do anything that keeps my ass in the magic pokey, I will zap you bald and give you a cold sore that makes you look like you were born with three lips."
I tried to snatch the scissors from my cell mate's hand, but I might as well have been trying to catch a greased cat.
"Look at my hair," she hissed, holding up her bangs. "They're touching my nose—my fucking nose, Zelda. I can't be seen like this when I get out. I swear I'll just do it a little."
&
nbsp; "Sandy…" I started.
"It's Sassy," she hissed.
I backed up in case she felt the need to punctuate her correction with a left hook. You can pick your friends, your nose and your bust size, but you can't pick your cell mate in the big house.
"Right. Sorry. Sassy, you have never done anything just a little. What happened the last time you cut your own bangs? Your rap sheet indicates bang cutting is somewhat unhealthy for you."
She winced and mumbled her shame into her collarbone. "That was years ago. Nobody died and that town was a dump to start with."
"Fine." I shrugged. "Cut your bangs. What do I care if you look like a dorkus? We're out of here in an hour. After today we'll never see each other again anyway."
"You know what, Miss High and Mighty?" she shouted, brandishing the shears entirely too close to my head for comfort. "You're in here for murder."
That stopped me dead in my pursuit of saving her from herself. What the hell did I care? Let her cut her bangs up to her hairline and suffer the humiliation of looking five. Maybe I wasn’t completely innocent here, but I was no murderer. It was a fucking accident.
"You listen to me, Susie, I didn't murder anyone," I snapped.
"Sassy."
"Whatever." She was giving me a migraine. Swoozie's selective memory was messing with my need to protect her ass. "Oh my Goddess," I yelled. "I didn't sleep with Baba Yaga's boyfriend—you did."
"First of all, we didn't sleep. And how in the hell was I supposed to know Mr. Sexy Pants was her boyfriend?"
"Um, well, let me see… did the fact that he was wearing a Property of Baba Yaga t-shirt not ring any fucking bells?"
I was so done. I'd been stuck in a cell with Sassy the Destructive Witch for nine months—sawing my own head off with a butter knife had become a plausible option. I was beyond ready to get the hell out.
"Well, it’s not like the Council put you in here just to keep me company. You ran over your own familiar. On purpose," she accused.
I watched in horror as she combed her bangs forward in preparation for blast off and willed myself not to give a rat’s ass.
"I did not run over that mangy bastard cat on purpose. The little shit stepped under my wheel."
"Three times?" she inquired politely.
"Yes."
We glared at each other until we were both biting back grins so hard it hurt. As much as I didn't like her, I was grateful to have had a roomie. It would have sucked to serve time alone. And coming up with different female names that started with the letter S had helped pass the time.
"I really need a mirror to do this right," Sassy muttered. She mimed the cutting action by lining up her fingers up on her hair before she commenced.
I walked to the iron bars of our cell and refused to watch. Our tiny living quarters were barren of all modern conveniences, especially those we could perform magic with, like mirrors. We were locked up in Salem, Massachusetts in a hotel from the early 1900s that had been converted to a jail for witches. Our home away from home was cell block D, designated for witches who abused their magic as easily as they changed their underwear.
From the outside the decrepit building was glamoured to look like a charming bed and breakfast, complete with climbing ivy and flowers growing out of every conceivable nook and cranny. Inside it was cold and ugly with barren brick walls covered with Goddess knew what kind of slime. It was warded heavily with magic, keeping all mortals and responsible magic-makers away. At the moment the lovely Sassy and I were the only two inhabitants in the charming hell-hole. Well, us and the humor-free staff of older than dirt witches and warlocks.
I dropped onto my cot and ran my hands through my mass of uncontrollable auburn curls which looked horrid with the orange prison wear. I puckered my full—and sadly lipstick-free-lips as I tried to image myself in the latest Prada. The first damn thing I was going to do when I got out was burn the jumpsuit and buy out Neiman’s.
"Fine. We're both here because we messed up, but I still think nine months was harsh for killing a revolting cat and screwing an idiot," I muttered as the ugly reality of my outfit mocked me.
I held my breath and then blew it out as Sassy put the scissors down and changed her mind.
"I can’t do this right now. I really need a mirror."
It was the most sane thing she'd uttered in nine months.
"In an hour you'll have one unless you do something stupid," I told her and then froze.
Without warning the magic level ramped up drastically and the stench of centuries-old voodoo drifted to my nose. Sassy latched onto me for purchase and shuddered with terror.
"Do you smell it?" I whispered. I knew her grip would leave marks, but right now that was the least of my problems.
"I do," she murmured back.
"Old lady crouch."
"What?" Her eyes grew wide and she bit down on her lip. Hard. "If you make me laugh, I'll smite your sorry ass when we get out. What the hell is old lady crouch?"
My own grin threatened to split my face. My fear of incarceration was clearly outweighed by my need to make crazy Sassy laugh again. "You know—the smell when you go to the bathroom at the country club...powdery old lady crouch."
"Oh my hell, Zelda." She guffawed and lovingly punched me so hard I knew it would leave a bruise. "I won't be able to let that one go."
"Only a lobotomy can erase it." I was proud of myself.
"Well, well, well," a nasally voice cooed from beyond the bars of our cell. "If it isn't the pretty-pretty problem children."
Baba Yaga had to be at least three hundred if she was a day, but witches aged slowly—so she really only looked thirty-five-ish. The more powerful the witch, the slower said witch aged. Baba was powerful, beautiful and had appalling taste in clothes. Dressed right out of the movie Flash Dance complete with the ripped sweatshirt, leggings and headband. It was all I could do not to alert the fashion police.
She was surrounded by the rest of her spooky posse, an angry bunch of warlocks who were clearly annoyed to be in attendance.
"Baba Yaga," Sassy said as respectfully as she could without making eye contact.
"Your Crouchness," I muttered and received a quick elbow to the gut from my cellmate.
Baba Yaga leaned against the cell bars, and her torn at the shoulder sweatshirt dripped over her creamy shoulder. "Zelda and Sassy, you have served your term. Upon release you will have limited magic."
I gasped and Sassy paled. WTF? We'd done our time. Limited magic? What did that mean?
"Fuck," I stuttered.
"But… um… Ms. Yaga, that's not fair," Sassy added more eloquently than I had. "We paid our dues. I had to withstand Zelda's company for nine months. I believe that is cruel and unusual punishment."
"Oh my hell," I shouted. "You have got to be kidding me. I fantasized chewing glass, swallowing it and then super gluing my ears shut so I would have to listen to anymore play by plays of Full House episodes."
"Full House is brilliant and Bob Saget is hot," she grumbled as her face turned red.
"Enough," Baba Yaga hissed as she waved a freshly painted nail at us in admonishment. "You two are on probation, and during that probation you will be strictly forbidden to see each other until you have completed your tasks."
"Not a problem. I don't want to lay eyes on Sujata ever again," I said.
"It's Sassy," she ground out. "And what in the Goddess' name do you mean by tasks?"
Baba Yaga smiled—it was not a nice smile.
"Tasks. Selfless tasks. And before you two get all uppity with that 'I can't believe you're being so harsh' drivel, keep in mind that this is a light sentence. Most of the Council wanted you imbeciles stripped of your magic permanently."
That was news. What on earth had I done that would merit that? I conjured up fun things. Sure, they were things I used to my advantage, like shoes and sunny vacations with fruity drinks sporting festive umbrellas in them, served to me on a tropical beach by guys with fine asses...but it wasn't like I
took anything from anyone in the process.
"I'm not real clear here," I said warily.
"Oh, I can help with that," Baba Yaga offered kindly. "You, Zelda—how many pairs of Jimmy Choo shoes do you own?"
I mentally counted in my head—kind of. "Um… three?"
Baba Yaga frowned and bright green sparks flew around her head. "Seventy-five and you paid for none of them. Not to mention your wardrobe and cars and the embarrassingly expensive vacations you have taken for free."
When her eyes narrowed dangerously, I swallowed my retort. Plus, I had eighty pairs...
"And you, Sassy, you've used your magic to seduce men and have incurred millions in damages from your temper tantrums. Six buildings and a town. Not to mention your indiscretion with my former lover. If I hadn't already been done with him you'd be in solitary confinement for eternity. Can you not see how I had to fight for you?" she demanded, her beautiful eyes fiery.
"Well, when you put it that way," I mumbled.
"There is no other way to put it," she snapped as her mystical lynch mob nodded like the bobble-headed freaks that they were. "Zelda, you have used your magic for self-serving purposes and Sassy, you have a temper that when combined with your magic could be deadly. We are White Witches. We use magic to heal and to make Mother Earth a better place, not to walk the runway and take down cities."
"So what do we have to do?" Sassy asked with a tremor in her voice. She was freaked.
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