Magic and Mayhem: The Witch Singer (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Witches of Mane Street Book 1)

by Heather Long

  Assjacket, West Virginia was fifteen plus hours away if I didn’t take any breaks. Better to stay on the road without any hotel stops. If Nasty-Face was wrong and the enclave sent vamps after me, it was better to stay on the road.

  Six hours later, I needed to pee—again—and I needed gas. I was also starving. I’d spent an hour weaving my way through Memphis traffic only to get hung up by an accident fifteen miles east of the town. The accident wasn’t actually on the road. I could just transport myself to Assjacket, but that wouldn’t bring the car or my luggage with me. I wanted all of the above, so driving it was.

  At the next mega-gas-grab-food-and-go I saw, I pulled off. I grabbed a change of clothes from the top of the suitcase, then went inside. While they prepped the food I ordered, I found a bathroom and made use of the facility, changed and washed up. Back in the car, my ass and butt protested but I ignored them. I could live with some discomfort for a few hours. I’d been living in hell for a long time. Numb butt I could live with.

  An hour outside of Knoxville, I wanted to scream. Tennessee, the state that wouldn’t end. Like…ever. I’d even grown tired of singing along on the radio—how that was possible after all my years of not being able to even hum along with a song without zapping myself I don’t know, but I was there. I considered calling old friends, but really wasn’t sure who would want to hear from me. For that matter, I wasn’t even sure who I wanted to talk to.

  The sunset behind me set the sky on fire. Stunning sight. Too many years of having the sunset be my ‘morning’ wakeup call didn’t diminish the beauty. I pushed and pushed, to reach the state line. A rest area ahead beckoned. It wasn’t that late, then again I’d been up since three a.m. after only getting a couple of hours of sleep. The grit in my eyes burned.

  Definitely time to sleep. I didn’t want to stop, at least not till I made it to Assjacket. The chances of being picked off by random members of the enclave dropped dramatically once I made it there. My eyes ached, my head hurt and my ass had long since stopped speaking to me. Pulling into the next rest stop, I parked the car before getting out and beginning the arduous and painful stretching process. After a trip to the facilities, I stopped at the soda and snack machines. Nothing looked remotely appealing, but I bought a coke to drink after my nap and some peanuts cause—food. Right, food.

  I was almost back to the car when the smell hit me. Gagging, I clamped my mouth shut and blinked through watery eyes. Had someone run over a skunk? It happened all the time on the road. Trying to choke back the bile rising at the stench burning through my sinus passages like a raging forest fire, I jerked to a halt at the sight of the black and white critter right next to my car.

  It leaned against a tire, and for one heartsick second I thought I’d run the little beastie over. Then to my increased horror, the critter turned his head to look at me. “Oh thank the gods,” it said, breathless. “I thought I’d missed you.”

  Okay, I’m not too proud to admit it. I screamed. We were all alone at the rest stop. Probably a good thing for fellow travelers to not have to listen to my ear splitting shriek as it climbed a few decibels unevenly. The skunk, on the other hand, spun around as though to run from me, plowed into the tire then released a spritz of foul stench.

  I’d always heard they had some distance on that spray. Never thought I’d be the one to see it in action. The cloud of mist coated me, even as I slapped a hand over my mouth.

  Ugh. I did not want to taste it. No. No. No.

  The skunk stumbled drunkenly then collapsed and I joined him. My already irritated eyes, started to swell shut and my sinuses seemed to close off of their own accord overwhelmed by Pepé Le Pew’s pungent release.

  Gagging, I sat there stupidly on the sidewalk and wanted to bawl like a baby, only the tears I so desperately needed to clear my eyes refused to come. The skunk didn’t move.

  Gods above and below, had I killed the little beastie? Had the little beastie killed me? Sneezing violently, I tried to clear my nose, but my eyes were gonna be toast if I didn’t get the stench off me.

  “Glargl—ish—argh.” I tried to sing, but ended up choking on the smell. Since I had to take a deep breath to get the words out, it meant I had to make myself deal with the stench. “It doesn’t matter what comes, save my sinuses from this strife and fresh me up for life…erase the funk from the talking skunk…” As songs went, it sucked. Still, for a spell, it worked and suddenly I had fresh air filling my lungs and rapid blinking cleared my stinging eyes.

  Running a hand over my face, I tested the air with a cautious sniff. Yes, all of the skunk stench was gone. Adrenaline warred with fatigue in my system, and I made my way over to the downed creature. He was still unconscious and, to my horror, blood leaked from his ears.

  That could not possibly be good. I couldn’t leave him there, but I also desperately needed sleep. Moving to the door, I checked my clothes for any lingering stink. Thankful it remained absent, I set the drink and snack inside, then looked down at the skunk again. With trepidation, I nudged it with my food. It didn’t move. I wasn’t sure whether that made me happy or not.

  Despite fervent wishing as I looked around, I saw no sign of anyone else except the downed skunk. Okay…what were the chances it would spray again inside the car? I debated my options, and finally elected to fetch a blanket out of the back of the car. Creating a pallet for the little one, I tucked him in and slid him under the car just outside of sight in the darkness. Inside the car, I let my seat lean back—not that it went far with the suitcases—then propped my feet on the dashboard.

  It took me all of three seconds to fall asleep. Maybe less. I really stopped counting after one. I have no idea how long I slept when a scratching noise woke me. Peeling one eye open, I tried to determine where I was, and maybe who I was. My back snap, crackled and popped to an upright position, and I glanced around the still dark rest stop. No other cars had pulled in, but I could see a truck or three on the other side. They were all dark, their drivers having likely gone to sleep.

  Maybe I imagined the noise. I’d already closed my eyes when the scratch came again, and I jerked upright. The skunk. Pressing my cheek to the window, I glanced down to see the skunk standing on hind legs while his paws were against the door. Correction—claws, not paws. Turning the key so I could engage the electric windows, I rolled the down and stared bleary eyed at the skunk.

  “Glad to see I didn’t kill you.” It worked as a how do you do considering the stench it doused me in earlier after I was justifiably startled. One does not meet a talking skunk every day.

  “Me too.” The skunk responded in a high-pitched tenor, before it shook its head like a dog trying to shed water. “Ears hurt though.”

  “Sorry about that,” I apologized, and genuinely meant the sentiment.

  “You startled me.”

  “I guess so. You sprayed me, hence—” Check me out I used hence in a sentence! “Why you are still out there, and I’m sleeping in here.”

  “I figured.” The skunk scrunched his too cute for school face. Odd how much like a cat it appeared, but cuter. As animals go, skunk doesn’t usually top my list for most adorable, but I couldn’t help it. He was a darling little dude. “I’d say sorry, but it’s more of a nervous tick and, in all fairness, you got me first.”

  “I can accept that.” It seemed a reasonable exchange. “So, you didn’t mean to spray me and I didn’t mean to make your ears bleed.”

  He chittered, a sound similar to laughter but altogether far more cartoon-like in its delivery. “I will live. I’m Martin, pretty lady. Who are you?”

  “Hmm, my mother told me never to talk to strange creatures.” Not entirely true. “Well, to be more precise, she told me not to sing to them when I was little.”

  Martin tipped his head sideways, studying me. “Why is that?”

  “Ever see the movie Shrek?”

  “Uh huh.” The animal bobbed his head.

  “Remember when the girl ogre chick sings to the birds and it go
es pop?” Somehow I managed to keep a straight, earnest face through the whole description.

  The skunk’s eyes rounded and seemed to reflect shock. “Uh. Huh.” The syllables came far slower this time.

  “Well…it’s not like that.” I grinned, enjoying myself at his expense. The skunk’s palpable relief transformed to irritation.

  “You’re mean.”

  “Nah, I just haven’t talked to anything that wasn’t dead in a long time, so I’m a bit rusty on my skunk to witch relations.”

  Hardly mollified, it let out a little grunt that sounded suspiciously like a hmmph. “I don’t suppose you can give me a ride?”

  “I’m heading to Assjacket—”

  He didn’t even let me finish the sentence before he started jumping. Horror crept through me. Skunks jumped? I may have nightmares forever.

  “Can the excitement spray-boy. I said I’m heading to Assjacket, not that I’m giving you a ride.”

  “But I really need to get there. Rumor has it there’s a new Shifter Whisperer in town, and I’m really hoping she can do me a solid.”

  “You’re a Shifter?” Cause dude, what a stinky place to hit the genetic lotto. Skunk Shifter. I did not snicker at the unintended pun. Okay, I didn’t snicker much.

  “Not, exactly.” Martin cast his gaze away from me and toward the darkened rest stop area. “And this isn’t the best place for the conversation. Can I please hitch a ride with you?”

  “Are you going to spray me again?” ‘Cause, Hecate as my witness, I’d drop his ass off on the road while I went ninety miles an hour.

  “Skunk’s honor.” He held up a paw so solemnly, I had to blink back a sudden surge of emotional tears. “I need to get there, Miss Witchness, and you are the best possibility I’ve seen in weeks.”

  Weeks?

  “I’ve been walking, trying to get there overland. Do you have any idea how many drivers try to hit me when I have to cross the road?”

  “Probably better I don’t.” I opened the door of the car, and Martin scrabbled in, pausing on my lap long enough to bump his head against my chin. “I already don’t like people that much.”

  “Well, let’s just say it’s a lot.” He hopped over into the passenger seat, and I reached down and scooped up the blanket I’d loaned him. It was a tad damp, and the air outside had cooled significantly. I could almost taste the rain hanging like a promise over us. “I don’t have any money or anything.”

  “No sweat. I can’t imagine you’re going to cost me much more in the way of gas, and I was already heading there.” I stuffed the blanket next to him in case he wanted it, then closed the door, rolled the window up and finally settled back to close my eyes. I’d barely drifted off when weight landed on my chest and tiny paws started kneading my breasts.

  “Martin?”

  “Yes, witch-doll?” His voice was way too close to my face, and his whiskers tickled my jaw.

  “Get off me before I demonstrate how high a C I can hit.”

  “But it’s cold.” The complaint didn’t earn him any points. I snapped my fingers and pointed at the passenger seat. Martin hopped off me and mumbled. “And your boobs are a lot softer.”

  “The seat is softer than the ground outside.” I reminded him. If he really wanted to continue the argument, I’d shove his ass back out there to rediscover the discomfort. He didn’t respond, so maybe he got my point. Smothering a yawn, I let myself fall back to sleep. I could use at least another hour before I started driving again.

  My body clock must have believed me, because I snapped my eyes open to see the dash clock reading one hour later, and I’d forgotten to turn the car off. Crap, I hope I didn’t drain the battery. I’d started to yawn when I realized something fuzzy pressed against my cheek. Sliding my gaze slowly down, I came eye to eye with a skunk’s butt.

  Yep.

  A skunk’s butt.

  Right in my face.

  It took everything I had not to scream.

  Chapter Three

  “If you were planning to spend the night, why didn’t you get a hotel room?” Martin mumbled. He sounded more in need of coffee than me. Other than waking to skunk butt, I’d enjoyed the morning so far. The sun came up despite the promise of rain. It was cool, but comfortable outside—perfect top down weather. I loved having the wind in my hair, and the roar of it helped me ignore his yowling. He should be grateful I didn’t kill him for the stunt of sleeping on my chest after I told him no, much less putting his ass in my face.

  Skunk butt. In my face.

  I shuddered. Not a fact I would get over anytime soon. The next exit had a Custom Coffee Kart drive-thru. Hot coffee and breakfast sounded fantastic. “You need to hide.” I informed my passenger as I coasted down the exit and onto the side road.

  “What? I’m behaving myself.” He swished his tail, like a thrash metal metronome. Seriously, were skunks part of the feline family? Cause this one sure acted like it.

  “Yes, and you’re going to keep on behaving yourself if you want to ride all the way to Assjacket. I need coffee and breakfast, and you need to be out of sight. Any idea how much squealing you’ll hear from the girls if they see a skunk in the car? Not really the most incognito of disguises.”

  “It’s not a disguise!” he sputtered. “I’m cursed.”

  “I believe it, so go on, back seat, down low and hide.” I followed the turn to get into line with the other vehicles. The breeze ruffled my hair, and I spared a glance at the rearview mirror. No way I had time to rummage for a brush, I turned up the radio, and found the refrain so I could sing along with the music. “Please hurry, I’m in a rush. Get me my goddamn hairbrush.”

  The purple handled item landed in my hand, and I wanted to let out a gleeful shout. Martin gave an indignant snort, then stuck his head between the front two seats to stare at me. “You do realize that’s a ridiculous waste of power. You could have just reached back here to get the brush.”

  “I know.” Drunk on the triumph, I didn’t let his naysaying attitude get me down. “Guess what?” I didn’t wait for his response. “I don’t care.” After years of not being able to do more than what the vampires let me do, I planned to waste as much magic as I wanted, even if it was only to do something like brush my hair. Static charge crackled as I raked the brush through the wild profusion of purple. At least the color held up through my long years, boxes did in a pinch with my magic restricted.

  It was finally my turn, so I ordered a quad shot, non fat double death by chocolate caffeine surprise and a breakfast sandwich. “Hmm, oh and lets add some of the strawberry cream muffins, and a blueberry muffin.”

  “And a regular coffee, black, no sugar. Coffee cake? Maybe with nuts in it?” Martin’s voice carried quite well. The lady on the speaker repeated back the order neatly, without missing a beat. Martin gave me what must pass for a skunk grin and ducked his head back behind the seat.

  On the way around to the window, I continued brushing my hair. “You’re going to owe me for that. I’ll be keeping receipts.”

  “Sounds good to me, sweet cheeks. I’ll happily pay you back.”

  “Let me guess, you left your wallet in your other fur coat?” My arrival at the checkout window didn’t leave him an opportunity to answer. I counted out the bills, and scraped together the change from the zippered pocket in my purse. The cash stash seemed to be running a bit thin. I’d been avoiding using the credit cards. Most of the plastic in my purse didn’t belong to me. While Nasty-Face gave me a task and my freedom, I didn’t trust it would be that easy. The enclave could track me if I used my cards. Better to avoid them at all costs.

  Surely Assjacket had some night establishment I could sing in for my supper. The town had been making waves, last I heard about it. Everything from a new Shifter Whisperer to the Baba Yaga hanging out. Word was, Baba Yaga also had a thing for the Shifter Whisperer’s dad. All gossip for the rumor mill. The vampires didn’t typically care for chatting about Assjacket, and for the most part, they acted like it d
idn’t exist.

  Leaving the coffee shop behind, I got back on the highway. I was about eight hours from my destination. So, two pee breaks, one more tank of gas and at least one more meal, if not more coffee. As soon as we were back on the highway, Martin hopped into the seat and sniffed at his coffee in the cup holder.

  “So tell me,” I began then took a sip of my coffee before continuing. The wind in my hair, the sun on my skin, and hot coffee in my hand with no damn collar on my neck. I was in heaven. Skunk heaven maybe, but I could dig it. “How do you plan to drink that coffee with your itty bitty paws?”

  His tail flagged upwards, his hair rising along his back. Struck a nerve did I? “It’s rude to dismiss someone for their size or appearance.” Another imperious sniff, then he turned his whiskered, cute mug toward me. “You don’t see me criticizing the too tight jeans, the bad outline of your bra strap escaping from the tank top or the fact that your hair is standing up more than lying down?”

  “I see your point and I raise you on the fact I actually wanted to know how you planned to drink the coffee considering you lack opposable thumbs.” Then before I let him distract me, I took another long drink and added, “That said, you should note I’m a girl and I can be complicated without reason or explanation.”

  The skunk barked a laughing sound. “I do believe no truer words have been spoken. Would you be so kind as to pop the lid off my coffee cup?”

  He asked the question with such a proper air, I was more than happy to oblige. Carefully, I peeled the lid off and set it on the seat. Martin hopped down into the well, placed his paws carefully on either side of the cup holder then took a sip. His whole body shivered, and he chittered then took another drink.

  “Long time since you had coffee?” I kept my tone as conversational as possible.

  “Feels like eons.” Martin rubbed his nose with his paws, then took another sip. “Decades more likely.”

  “How long have you been a skunk?” Or was he always a skunk? How did one ask that question without sounding all judgmental as he indicated earlier? “I mean is it a personal choice?”