“Even if she had the best intentions, she should have asked. I overreacted, but she issued an order. I don’t do well with orders.”
“Neither do I.” Doyle regarded me steadily, front paws crossed, tail twitching. “If she’d asked instead of demanded, would you have considered it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? Probably? Anyway, it’s potion dumped from the cauldron, and hardly matters now.”
“It matters to me.”
“Because you think I have some aversion to Shifters? Well, I don’t. Witches, Shifters, humans. People are people, Doyle. Well, except for goblins. Those suckers creep me out. So, yes, if she’d asked nicely, I would have considered it. Happy?”
“Have you forgotten I’m presently a cat? Cats don’t do happy. I am, however, oddly relieved and surprisingly content. I agree. People are people. Although I have heard witches enjoy dancing naked in cemeteries at night,” he snorted. “Not really a Shifter thing.”
“Actually, I’ve heard Shifters get naked with wild abandon whenever the opportunity presents itself. And for your information, we gave up dancing naked in cemeteries at night in the fifties following an invention by a mortal. He applied the fundamentals of radar to ultrasonic waves and combined it with the use of the Doppler effect to sense an object as it moves or gets closer.”
For the last year, Doyle cohabitated with a somewhat clumsy, frequently maudlin witch in exile. Today, I’d managed to circumnavigate town and end up almost right back where we started. Never let it be said I don’t know how to make an impression. Sure, I struggled without my magic, but what witch wouldn’t? Now, for reasons I chose not to examine too closely, I felt compelled to prove I wasn’t a completely incompetent dipwad. Mission accomplished. The look on his face was priceless. I fought down the urge to fist pump, and swallowed a triumphant giggle.
“Motion lights.” I bit back a smile.
“Ah.” His green eyes opened wide. “Pity. I would have enjoyed seeing your blue eyes alight with happiness and freedom, your glorious dark hair tumbling over your shoulders, and your white skin gleaming in the moonlight while you danced.”
“You’ve…fantasized about me?” I gulped.
“No,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “Well, maybe once or twice.”
My pulse hitched, my breath quickened. Hexed Shifter or not, Doyle’s words incited a riot of feelings that took me by surprise. I looked into those bright, green eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes and I no longer saw a cat. I saw right into his soul. Then he blinked, coughed as though in danger of hacking up a hairball, and the spell was broken.
“Well, uh, we should probably get a good night’s sleep,” I croaked, snuggling down under the blanket. “Also, Rule Number One, you are hereby banned from my bathroom when I am in the shower or doing anything other than brushing my teeth. Tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get home. I’ll get my magic back, and make nice with Baba to convince her to remove your curse.” And pray to the Goddess he bore no resemblance to Lucky Leon.
“You can’t,” Doyle sighed.
“I know she can be a little intimidating, but Baba isn’t completely unreasonable. You haven’t seen the diplomatic side of me. I can be very persuasive when I set my mind to it.”
“I’m sure you can. I meant she can’t break the curse.”
“The witch who casts the spell is the one who breaks it. That’s how it works.” I reached over and fluffed his pillow, then punched a crater in it. He settled into the depression with a satisfied grunt.
“Ordinarily. Unless there’s a caveat.”
“There’s a caveat?” Forkityforkforkfork. I drew in a deep, fortifying breath. “Okay, what’s the stipulation?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose it as I have no desire to poop in a box filled with pine-scented pellets for the next twenty years. Suffice it to say, the spell has to be broken by another witch, and magic isn’t required to break it. At least not the kind of magic you’re thinking of. Now, get some sleep. Given your rousing success today, tomorrow is looking like a challenge waiting to happen. Good-night, Ella.”
“Good-night, Doyle.” I heaved a sigh, tugged the blanket under my chin, and allowed my lids to flutter closed. I’d worry about the caveat tomorrow. Tomorrow was another day.
“My name isn’t Doyle,” he mumbled as I drifted off into that fuzzy world between wakefulness and sleep. “It’s Garrett.”
His words penetrated my semi-stupor. Garrett? Garrett…Oh. My. Goddess! My eyes snapped open. Heart hammering against my ribs, I jackknifed upright in the tangled blanket, choking on righteous indignation, and slammed my head on the roof of the car. Rubbing away the sting with one hand, I used the other to shove the pillow, deceitful lying cat included, as far away from me as I possibly could. I automatically drew back my hand to zap his furry ass. Of course, it then occurred to me that without magic, the effect would probably be negligible.
“You…you…he,” I sputtered. “You feaky snucker! You’re him. You’re Garrett the blind date Shifter.”
Chapter Five
“I know who I am. Since we’ve established your rejection wasn’t personal, I figured it was time to let you in on the secret.” He yawned hugely, then blinked at me.
“I think I’ve just reconsidered.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. “You low down, dirty dog! You’ve been spying on me, and no doubt having a great laugh, all this time.”
“For the record, my animal is a canis lupus, not a canis familiaris. And I haven’t been spying, Louella. I’ve been stuck here serving out the term of my punishment related to our arranged association, just like you. Also, I’ve never laughed at you. Well, okay, maybe that one time you tried baking cookies, didn’t take the frozen dough out of the wrapper first, and then microwaved it for an hour. But, you have to admit, that was pretty funny.”
“I admit nothing.” It took three showers to get the chocolate chips out of my hair.
“Look. This isn’t easy for me to acknowledge, but I owe you. If you hadn’t found me, I’m not sure I would have survived. Although, in retrospect.” He paused for a quick ear scratch. “I’m relatively sure me being dumped in the same alley you were banished to wasn’t coincidence.”
“If I hadn’t found you, I’m sure someone would have taken you in. You were pretty pathetic, but still cute in a please-put-me-out-of-my-misery sort of way.” My lips twitched despite my annoyance.
“The putting-me-out-of-my-misery aspect was my precise area of concern.”
My eyes widened in horror and my stomach somersaulted as his implication sank in. There were always more strays than homes willing to adopt them in this mortal world. And a stray in the condition Doyle, er, Garrett had been in when I found him? Even his ability to talk wouldn’t have saved him. Though I had no magic at the moment, being a witch by birth, I could still hear him. Humans? Not so much. The worst things I’d had to contend with for crossing Baba Yaga, besides the lack of magic, were bad hair and second hand clothes. And complicated kitchen appliances. While I’d often been miserable, I didn’t think I’d ever been in any real danger. But Garrett? If I hadn’t peeked in that dumpster...
“Good Goddess! What was she thinking? You could have died!” I gasped.
“Nah, I think it’s her way of messing with us. Your head honcho has a temper, but beneath that hideous wardrobe, she also has a heart. She wouldn’t have let me die.” He paused, and cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think. But, just in case I’m wrong, maybe I should sleep over there right next to you. For, you know, protection. Since I’m currently indisposed.”
“Nice try, wolf boy.” He continued to regard me intently. “You don’t really think I’m going to fall for that?”
“Hope springs eternal.” He opened his eyes wide and waggled his brows.
“Oh, fine,” I laughed. What difference did it make? He’d been sleeping with me for months. I lifted the blanket and he bounded across the darkening space, snuggling into my side, and tucking his head beneath m
y chin with far more enthusiasm than he’d previously shown. “Don’t get any ideas, buster.”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas, Buttercup. Unfortunately for you, I lack the ability to act on them at the moment.”
“Unfortunately for you, you mean,” I shot back, and shoved his wandering paw off of my right boob.
“That, too,” he acknowledged, amusement warring with frustration in his voice. “Good-night, Louella.”
“Good-night, Garrett.”
I lay staring into the enveloping darkness for what seemed like hours, envious of Garrett’s uncanny ability to cork off at a moment’s notice. My mind raced, questions tripping over concerns, possibilities tangling with anxieties. What if I never found the way home? Was Garrett right? Did Baba Yaga really have a heart? Would she send the Ekimmu to guide me back if I became really and truly lost? What on Earth possessed her to send an Ekimmu anyway? Or had I gone too far? Would she leave me floundering in a world without magic forever? And how did I break the spell holding Garrett captive? Clearly, if Baba cast it with the intention of it being broken by another witch with no magic required, she meant that witch to be me. What if I couldn’t figure it out? On the other hand, what if I did? And what if he hadn’t grown as fond of me as I apparently had of him? What if after a year of clandestine observation, he didn’t like me at all? What if he had some sexy piece of wolf tail just pining for his return? What if I broke the spell and he left?
“Go to sleep, Ella. I’m not going anywhere.” Garrett’s voice came out of the night and flowed over me, as smooth and warm as melted chocolate. For one brief and totally unsatisfying moment, I imagined the spell had already been broken, and a warm and solid man lay beside me in the cat’s place. Then I gasped.
“You read minds now, too?” I screeched, squinting in shock at the cat, who immediately burrowed his head under the pillow. “You could have mentioned that.”
“No, I don’t read minds. However, I have been gifted with an uncanny ability to hear people who argue with themselves out loud.”
“Oh. I, uh…sorry,” I responded, thankful for the darkness. Mostly because it concealed my flaming face. Exactly how much had he heard?
“You worry too much,” he said. His warm breath puffed against my skin, his soft fur tickling my neck as he rubbed his head along my jawline.
“It’s a gift.”
“It’s a curse. Don’t you think we’ve got enough of those to deal with at the moment? Lying awake tormenting yourself about every potential complication won’t change anything. Breathe, meditate, count broomsticks. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
“Broomsticks? Those are so middle ages. Honestly, I’m beginning to think I’m the first witch you’ve ever met.” He muttered something under his breath that could have been you’re the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met, but what he said aloud was:
“Okay, forget the broomsticks. Interested in some progressive muscle relaxation, instead?”
“Sorry, I don’t do cats, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait until I figure out how to break the spell.”
“Good to have something to look forward to.” He made no effort to hide the amusement in his voice. “But, I was talking about a technique in which you systematically tense and relax different muscle groups yourself, to recognize and reduce stress.”
“I knew that.”
“Of course you did. Okay, take a deep breath and hold it…now release, slowly. And again. Now tense the muscles in your right foot. And release. Left foot. And release.”
“This is stupid,” I grumbled, wiggling my toes. “It’s giving me a cramp in my instep.”
“You’re not trying.”
“I am trying. Your voice is distracting.”
“In that case, I’ll just shut up and go back to sleep.”
“No! I…what I meant …I, uh, I like the sound of your voice.” Here in the dark. When I could wrap myself in the deep timber of his words and allow myself to imagine the man, without the distraction of his current appearance. “I find it soothing, actually.”
“Soothing?”
“Yes. Maybe you can keep talking for a while.”
“Keep talking for a while?”
“Is there an echo in here?”
“No. I, uh, I’m just surprised, is all. What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk about anything. You did say I should stop worrying and relax, right? I want you to talk. And I’ll listen. And I will find it distracting and relaxing. And then I will go to sleep.”
“Promise?”
“Promise to try.” I rolled to my side, curled in a ball, and hauled him against my stomach. His soft, warm body vibrated against mine. I froze. “Are you purring?”
“I guess that’s what it is. Never happened before. Must be an instinct. Can I tell you a story?”
“Can I stop you?”
“Hey, you’re the one—”
“Tell me a story, Garrett,” I chuckled, scratching his tummy until he squirmed and cleared his throat.
“Once upon a time…”
“I’ve heard this one before.” His body stiffened beneath my fingers. “Go on.”
“Once upon a time there was a wolf Shifter whose name was not Doyle—”
“His name was Garrett, right?” I smiled into the darkness.
“The Shifter whose name was not Doyle held responsibility for many who depended on his leadership and protection,” he continued.
“The Shifter whose name was not Doyle is an alpha?” I gasped, appalled. I could barely fathom the frustration an alpha wolf felt trapped in the body of a cat and being deprived of the ability to shift. His concern for his people in his absence must have played on his mind constantly. On the other hand, it hadn’t seemed to keep him awake for any length of time.
“The Shifter whose name was not Doyle and his people lived peacefully in a beautiful valley surrounded by hills and interspersed with fresh water streams,” he went on as though I hadn’t spoken. “Like many Shifter towns, the front they presented to the world was one of destitution and decay—this discourages the mortals from lingering if they should happen to stop. But, behind the façade of the ramshackle town, the Shifters’ businesses were solvent, their organic fields hummed with life, bees swarmed the marigolds, sparrow and wren Shifters made themselves at home, and kids ran freely between the furrows in the fields. And the Shifter whose name was not Doyle, was proud of what he and his people had built.”
“What does he look like?” I interrupted again, captivated by the picture Garrett painted. He clearly loved both his people and his home. But, for me, there was one important visual missing.
“Huh?”
“The Shifter whose name is not Doyle. What does he look like?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” he grumbled. “Like a guy.”
“How tall?”
“A little over six feet, I guess,” Garrett’s discomfort came through loud and clear.
“And his eyes are…were green?”
“Yes, green,” he grumbled. “I thought the plan here was I talk, you listen.”
“And his hair? Long, short?”
“Dark, short on the sides, longer on the top.”
“Short on the sides, longer on top?” I repeated. Oh my Goddess, the Fates could not be so cruel. “It’s not by any chance parted on the side, way over on the side, say, just above the ear?”
“Are you visualizing the Shifter whose name is not Doyle as your shady friend Lucky Leon?”
“Let’s be clear. Lucky Leon is no friend of mine, and I have no problem with receding hairlines. Unless, of course, the receding hairline is mine, which changes the situation entirely. I do, however, have a problem with comb-overs which fool no one, and simply look silly. Chop it off. Own the scalp is my motto.”
“That’s your motto?” Garrett guffawed.
“It might be,” I replied through stiff lips. It’s not as though I suggested anyone should carve it into their family
crest. “Anyway, a person can have more than one motto, you know.”
“I sure as hell hope so, because that one totally sucks.”
“You may continue now,” I mumbled.
“Are you through interrupting?”
“I haven’t decided.” I swore I heard his eyes roll. “So, you were saying…life was good in the pleasant Shifter valley. Birds sang, flowers bloomed, blah, blah, blah, and all the little wolf bitches panted at the door of the Shifter whose name is not Doyle, because he is tall, dark, and handsome, has lovely green eyes, and does not sport a comb-over.”
“I never said that.”
“I’m improvising based on the facts presented in your story thus far. So, all the little wolf bitches didn’t pant at the door of the Shifter whose name is not Doyle?”
“Not all of them,” he sniggered. “Some were already mated.”
Chapter Six
“You are a pig. I am going to sleep now.” My mouth opened wide in a bogus yawn, and I flipped over to face the opposite direction.
“No, you aren’t.” Garrett chuckled. “You’re sulking. I’m an alpha wolf with healthy appetites. Don’t expect me to apologize for it, Ella.”
“I don’t.” I didn’t give a rat’s tail how many sleek, sexy girl wolves shared his bed. Okay, maybe I did, but I had no right to. I hadn’t wanted to go out with Garrett, thus my current predicament. The funny little pang in the region of my heart couldn’t be jealousy. Green is not my color unless it involves a designer silk sheath with an asymmetrical neckline. The uncomfortable sensation was probably nothing more than a touch of acid reflux. Nothing a little chamomile sprinkled with basil couldn’t fix. If I had any. The packaged plants and herbs I’d found in the mortal world were next to useless, with all of the magic treated and processed right out of them. Goddess, I missed my garden.
Magic and Mayhem: Witchin' A Ride (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4