by S. E. Akers
The persistent house steward extended his hand, waiting for my compliance. I was about to pull them out of my pocket when he announced, “Let’s just pray your chariot-of-choice can make it around to the garage.”
Smartass, I fumed silently and then tugged the keys out with a heated jerk. After a couple of brisk jangles, I tightened my smile and dropped them into his awaiting palm. A big part of me couldn’t wait to see the look on the witty steward’s face when he had to come groveling back into the room with his haughty hands bag-less and his tail tucked between his legs. The other part was wondering why Tanner kept such a passive-aggressive egotistical jerk like him around anyway.
Silas slipped my keys into the front pocket of his vest. “Thank you,” he beamed and then headed for the door.
Oh, yeah… He stuck me down here on purpose. “So I can’t hail a freaking bolt,” I grumbled under my breath, as quietly as my temper would allow.
Silas halted his departure with a brusque spin. “Actually, I was mistaken by my earlier assessment, Ms. Wallace. If anything, you now appear to bear more of a hungry look,” he insisted and then glanced at his watch. “Maybe something to tide those rumbles and grumbles over in Professor Grey’s absence?”
My lips pursed. Not quiet enough, I noted. “That’s very gracious of you to offer. Thank you, Silas,” I replied, manners in-check. I figured someone had to be the bigger person. It may as well be me.
“Well, I am here at your beck and call,” Silas purred like a cat just one sly second away from taking a shady scratch. He was turning to head off when a peculiar haze clouded his eyes. Then the house steward stepped closer, his flaring nostrils leading the way.
My head fell into a suspicious tilt. “Do you smell something?” I questioned. “Freesias, maybe?” That tidbit would certainly clue me into Mr. Spot-On, especially if he could pick up on my supposed “scent” that every other daggone supernatural seemed to be able to sense — everyone but me, that is.
“Heavens no,” Silas chuckled as he strutted towards the door, clutching his chest. “More like burning old newspapers . . . and maybe a fleeting touch of compost.”
My mouth fell open no sooner than he’d closed the door. I pulled a few strands of hair up to my nose. The odor was faint, but that prickly-mouthed ass was right, and I knew exactly what it was from. Bethesda and that stick of white sage she was smudging her apartment with all morning. Ugh! Between Katie spritzing me left and right with her Guilty Black perfume, a wicked case of the jitters, and the new black cherry air freshener I’d picked up the other day hanging from my rearview mirror, I hadn’t noticed it — but boy did I now! I eyed my copper salvation in the next room. I couldn’t have Tanner picking up on the stench too, for more ear-searing reasons than I could count. I moped into the bathroom and plopped myself down on the edge of the tub. My reflection in the mirrored tabletop forced my head into a lopsided slump. Like it or not, I had to say “sayonara” to all of my bosom friend’s hard work.
The mammoth tub was taking forever to fill, so I grabbed my phone to kill some time. Plus, I was desperate to hear a friendly voice.
I scrolled through my cell for Katie’s number and then lifted the weighty antique handset to my ear. They sure didn’t believe in ergonomic-comfort back then. My finger commenced with a series of repetitive spins around the bygone device’s wheel. The irksome rings it made could surely wake the dead. The longer I listened to the blaring “buzzes”, the more I prayed she answered and didn’t let the unknown number shoot to her voicemail — ’cause she sure wouldn’t listen to it.
Finally the phone “clicked” and then my bosom friend extended a clueless, “Hello?”
“It’s me,” I announced as I tossed a lump of sea-salt into the tub.
“Whose number is this?” Katie questioned.
“Mine,” I answered. “I can’t get any reception on my cell, so plug this one into your phone.”
“There’s no tower close?” Katie posed.
“Something like that,” I muttered as I staked the scoop back into the huge crystal mound.
“Gotcha. So when are you pickin’ me up?” Katie demanded.
“It’s barely been two hours,” I protested and wheeled the knob marked with a “C” to the right. She was hotter than my bathwater. “Is it really THAT BAD?”
“Let’s just say, I wish you had left me ruby slippers instead of the perfume,” Katie huffed.
“I hope Bethesda can’t hear you,” I said.
“She can’t, Shi. I’m out here on the fire-escape . . . thinking about escaping,” Katie assured, “ — or JUMPING.”
My bosom friend’s drama rivaled Kara’s at times, though I would never say it to her face. “Katie, I swear I’ll try to visit you next weekend.”
“Umm, TRY?” My BFF questioned.
I could feel the tips of her fingers ready to strike another chord. “Please don’t start,” I pleaded, struggling to prop the awkward wooden handset against my shoulder. “I have no idea what I’ll be doing, and Tanner’s not here to ask.”
“Yeah well, be glad you left when you did,” Katie said. “You barely missed my cousin’s crew of magical misfits. Bethesda kept apologizing over and over because YOU weren’t here to meet them.”
“She didn’t say anything she shouldn’t, did she?” I questioned.
“Nope,” Katie replied. “She’s still stickin’ to the story. I’m Katherine Hepburn, a friend of the family from West Virginia, up here attending Boston College.”
Her robotic ramble prompted a smile. “I’m still worried about her,” I admitted as I unfastened a few buttons on my blouse. “I could zap her brain if she wasn’t wearing that necklace.”
“Isn’t there anything else you can use? Another stone? Or something else magical?” Katie proposed.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“You could ask Tan—”
“NO!” I shrieked and stopped unbuttoning when the handset slipped and almost fell into the tub. I jammed it back in place. “I don’t want him finding out that your current residence is a freakin’ coven.”
“What about Padimae?” Katie asked. “Isn’t there any way to get in touch with her?”
“Not without the voodoo doll,” I declared. The last time I’d seen or talked directly to Padimae was in Mexico, a couple of months back. Despite our broken communication, she still had the diamond I’d given her. However, she hadn’t attempted to contact me. For all I knew she was still scouring the Spanish countryside like an obsessed fan-girl to cast some love spell on Julio Iglesias.
“Maybe there’s something in one of Bea’s witch books? A spell in one of her grimoires might work?”
My hand dug into my hip like a pickaxe striking a coal seam. “A spell in her WHAT?”
“One of her grimoires. It’s kind of like a textbook for witches,” Katie clarified. “I noticed she had several when we dumped her stuff off at the storage unit you rented yesterday.”
“Yeah. I know what they are, but how do you?” I posed.
“You get thrown into a den of witches, you tend to pick up things,” Katie laughed.
It seemed Ms. C+ had refined her learning-skills more in the past two hours than all of her years of high school. Better attention, too. “Well, I don’t think you’re ready to be fitted for your conical hat and cape just yet,” I ragged.
“You laugh, but with my bone structure, I would totally rock that look,” Katie contended.
“I’m starting to rethink your accommodations,” I groused. “You need to get into a dorm as soon as your semester starts.”
“You’re right,” Katie sighed. “They can’t teach me anything I can’t learn myself.”
“Don’t even think about going through Bea’s things on your own,” I warned. “I only spelled that storage unit with your access so you could help keep an eye on that stuff, not treat it like your personal library.”
“But Bethesda doesn’t share her toys!” Katie huffed. “At least she doesn’t s
hare with me, but I’m sure her special friend, ‘Shiloh’ could play with them all day long.”
Unfortunately she wasn’t kidding. Her cousin was hell-bent on getting me to give The Craft a chance and seemed downright desperate for me to join her coven. But not common ole Katie — thankfully.
“Just forget it exists,” I begged.
“UH! You took all the really good stuff with you!” Katie countered. “All that’s in there is mostly books and scrolls . . . and more books. What harm ever came from reading a book?”
“With my run of luck and your sometimes wily ways — PLENTY!” I declared.
“Whatever,” Katie replied, accompanied by the sound of her tongue blowing out a ditty. “So where is Tanner?”
My hand trawled through the water with a testy sweep. “Running a ‘last minute errand’,” I fussed.
“That explains the bitchy I sense,” Katie proclaimed. “And I didn’t even need a diamond . . . or a spell from a little old book.”
My eyes rolled. Cute.
“And I’m pretty sure I hear water running,” Katie continued.
“You’re two for two,” I playfully praised. “I’m taking a bath. My hair reeks of that stinky sage stick Bethesda was fanning around all morning. I’m sure Tanner could pick up on the blend.” Probably “the year” too, I mused to myself. Like a dried herb & witch-stick connoisseur. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t evade any other crazy circumstances or situations with Tanner ever again, with the exception of Katie’s present predicament. Of course there were so many extending intricacies of that little deception alone — kind of like a thousand-year-old oak with a rampant root system that wouldn’t die. So realistically, I opted to count it and its branches as “one” and officially MY LAST. Honest engine. I really didn’t want to kick-off my stay with a heated argument detailing the stupidity of my choice in housing for my bosom friend or the alarming fact regarding who had the amethyst that held Katie’s parents emotional memories of her. And the details revolving around how I happened to stumble upon a much-needed howlite were equally as thorny. Not happening! I fully planned on telling him, just after Katie was safely in her dorm — WAY AFTER!
The displeasure streaming from my BFF’s gasp was undeniable. “All that hard work for nothin’,” Katie grumbled. “And FYI, from the goofy look plastered on my cousin’s face, I don’t think it was all sage.”
Even better, I thought with a shake of my head. I’ve dumped her with a pot-puffin’ witch… I’d no sooner cut the water valves when several “knocks” pounded on the door.
“I have to go,” I whispered into the phone. “Someone’s here.”
“Tanner?” Katie asked.
I sniffed my hair again. “I hope not,” I replied and after a quick, “Bye”, hung up the phone. I wrapped my hair in a bath towel as I made my way to the door. Then after a posturing pause, I locked my hand firmly around the handle and threw open the door. It wasn’t Tanner, just the BUTT-ler.
“Tell me, Ms. Wallace,” Silas began with a nod directed at my chest, “Is the problem just buttons . . . or closures in general?”
I pulled my gaping blouse to a quick close. Embarrassment won-out over my anger, strictly because he held in his hands what hinted at the makings of a feast for a queen — the only silver lining from his wisecracking presence I could find.
“Pardon the interruption,” Silas apologized as he carted the opulent salver into the room. Then he placed the fancy dinner service down on a small table and pulled out a chair. “I wanted to serve you while the dish is still piping hot.”
I followed his steps, feeling the sag of my bottom lip. That was QUICK. “What is it?” I asked as I reached for the domed silver lid.
“Ah, ah, ah . . .” the house steward chastised and blocked my hand. He promptly motioned for me to take my seat first, with a not-so-courteous wave. “Something fitting to whet a true warrior’s appetite.”
My eyes narrowed. Suddenly I felt like a stray bitch in need of training. “Thank you. I did skip breakfast, and I’m sure Professor Grey will want to start my arduous lessons as soon as possible.”
“Well then, this dish will definitely hit the spot,” Silas agreed. “Now, I shall leave you with all the privacy you and your wardrobe seem to need.” His cocky swagger towards the door ultimately snapped my last patient straw.
“You know . . .” I began, “One of my big ole cozy sweatshirts would be nice to change into after my bath.” I bounced my stare between his left and right sides theatrically and then topped off my performance with a frown. “But I don’t see any of my bags. Do ‘the hands of the house’ have problems with tasks in general . . . or is it just trunks?” I asked, my eyes not masking a bit of their delight.
Silas directed a wave towards the hall. “Neither,” he chirped as sweet as a bird. I rushed to the doorway. Just as he had promised, all the items I’d stowed in the backseat of my car, as well as the ones in the trunk, were sitting there arranged in a neat pile outside the door.
I whirled back around, my gut blazing just as hot as my pupils. Im-freakin’-possible!
“Would you like me to carry them in?” Silas proposed.
I snatched hold of the door handle in search of a logical reason why this “human” was able to break my spell, as well as some much-needed restraint.
“I’ll get them in a second,” I assured his gloating face, itching to put some distance between us.
Silas turned, forcing me to halt my swing from hitting his frame. “Bon appétit, young Talisman . . . and welcome to your destiny.”
I didn’t wait for my pissy slam. With the “BOOM” it had made, he would have heard it on any of the thirteen floors on his way back up to civilization.
Ughhh! What an ASS!
I paced for a moment pensively, twisting my amethyst pendant with every heated step I took. It hasn’t even been a full twenty minutes and he managed to lug all that crap down here THAT FAST — AND MAKE LUNCH?
An abrupt gurgle from my stomach steered me towards the table. Whatever… I whisked off the silver dome to find a succulent-looking fillet flanked by an array of colorful vegetables. I bet he killed the cow too. The steam rising from the delectable meal carried its mouthwatering scent up to my nostrils.
That’ll hit the “warrior’s” spot, I affirmed with a grin. Just as I was about to lay the silver dome on the table, several flaky crumbs floated down onto my steak. My eyes flared when a half-eaten croissant bounced off the plate from out of nowhere. The sound of heavy breaths baited my ears with alarm. Just as I began to raise the dome for a closer look, something shot out of it with a burst of speed that rivaled one of my bolts and assuredly too quick for my already rattled nerves. I immediately started scanning the room for whatever the heck it was.
It has to be here. Somewhere…
The same heaving breaths directed my gaze over and up to the top of the armoire. My eyes exploded when they spied a hideous-looking winged creature, top center. It was roughly the color and size of a small opossum, though it had slimy-looking scales instead of hair, and a half-humanoid / half-who-the-heck-knows-what form that ended with a long horn-covered tail. The damn crazy thing looked like a gargoyle perched up there. It let out a wretched squeal before honing its sneer and then threw what was left of the croissant down at me.
I dropped the silver dome and swiftly picked up the serrated steak knife, now ready to strike. The creature cowered behind its wings, trembling for a moment. It took great pains to shield itself before venturing a cautionary peek with its little beady red eyes. Then abruptly, the creature stretched its arms and breathed out a throaty growl like a rabid animal. The sight of the monster arching its grisly black claws made me tighten my grip on the steak knife. Clearly this critter was just as good-to-go.
Yep… Bon appétit, I grumbled while mentally planning a proper & in-person curse-fueled “thank you” for the thoughtful house stew bastard.
Just to test the waters, I sailed the knife towards the center of its c
hest. I knew I was smack in the middle of shit-creek when the creature snatched my piddly excuse for a weapon right before it could strike and then swiftly sent it flying straight back at me. My frame may have charged into a reactive duck, but the towel around my head still caught the business end of the blade. I yanked out the knife and flung it down onto the floor with an angry “plonk”.
This thing needs something BIGGER, I assessed with a quick glance aimed at my purse. I had to get the wand. That seemed like my best option, though my new ruby cuff was tucked in there as well. I still didn’t know what defensive powers it held. This would have been a really good time to find out. Malachi’s peculiar comment about it the other day had made me uncomfortable, and Bethesda’s mouthwatering smile didn’t help. Paranoia forced me into tucking the ruby bracelet inside my magical gris-gris purse after she kept begging to try it on. I didn’t think I would really need it, and Kamya hadn’t called. After the whole “angelite watch thing”, I should have learned my lesson by now. Granted, the flashy piece was big & bulky enough to feel out, but with my luck it was probably buried and trapped like quicksand down in the bottom folds of my purse.
The creature shot across the room as I turned to make my break. Flinging the towel over my airborne attacker scored me a couple of seconds, though it was nothing to brag about. The monster had already clamped itself onto the back of my head before I could reach my prize.
Suddenly, something dug into my cheek just as the creature flew off. Air struck the side of my stinging face, forcing my eyes to burst open from sheer disbelief. This thing had managed to cut me…somehow. I hadn’t spied any glistening telltale diamond signs on its gruesome black claws or even its horny tail, but my almost impregnable skin was scored regardless. With a sharp wince, I rubbed my bloody face while I fiercely scanned for any signs of the creature. Though the pain came nowhere close to the sting of one of my own diamonds or even the Onyx’s touch, the nasty punch it packed still hurt like a feisty bitch.
I soon spotted the creature propped on the back of the chaise. It was using its freakishly long tongue to clean my blood off its talons. The next thing I knew, the monster stopped licking and started sniffing its claws in a ravenous fit. Its devilish head locked onto me with a sharp snap and then its entire body started convulsing. I stood there almost hypnotized by the sight of its body growing bigger and bigger. When its transformation was complete, the creature appeared a good three sizes larger. That was alarming, but not as much as the look igniting its face. A jagged trail of teeth surrounded by a foaming mouth and topped off with a blistering sneer? No two ways about it: something the monster sensed had it seriously PO’d.