Witch Out of Luck

by J Thompson

  “Bas, the anacondas here wouldn’t look twice at you,” she stated, and carefully picked her way through the foliage.

  “What! Why not? I'm a tasty little morsel. They would be lucky to eat me.”

  Isabeau frowned. Confusion came part and parcel with Bas. One minute, he was demanding they don't eat him, the next, he was questioning why they wouldn't.

  “Because, Bas, the snakes around here will be big enough to eat me, never mind a bite-size snack like you.”

  “Oh.” He paused. He had his thinking face on. He would go a little bit cross-eyed, almost like he was trying to locate his brain. “So, they will eat you first. That’s nice that you would sacrifice yourself for me, Izzy.”

  “Of course, Bas.” She smirked. “Anything for you.”

  Silence reigned for about three short seconds.

  “So, question: why have we not portalled out of this clammy hell hole? You know my fur is frizzing right up.”

  “Because—” she started, only to be distracted by a moving vine. Its girth was soul-destroyingly large, and as it moved, she could hear each push of a scale as its muscles moved and contracted, easing its path over the vegetation. Isabeau stopped and stilled, her body tense as she watched the monster move into the jungle.

  “Was that…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see…?”

  “Yes.” Isabeau swallowed. That thing had been huge and could have easily taken her and Bas in one bite.

  “By my tail, he was girthy, wasn't he?” Bas asked, his voice calm. Unlike Isabeau’s, whose heart rate had skyrocketed.

  “You could say that, yes.”

  “So, why are we not out of here with the power of a portal and avoiding creatures that only belong in horror movies?”

  “Because…” Isabeau gulped, wiped her brow that dripped with sweat, and started again. “Because the ruins where the box was hidden is surrounded by old magic. Magic that, if messed with, could send us into a void and not back home, as was intended. I would rather get back to the truck and go from there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Happy?”

  “Not really.”

  “Shocker. When are you ever happy?”

  “When I have clean fur and cake.” Bas’s smart arse answer only made them coming upon the truck a bigger relief.

  Although, the slashed tyres and monkey shit coating it did not elevate Isabeau’s mood.

  “What a prick!” Bas called out to the jungle.

  “He is indeed.” Isabeau sighed and rummaged through the remains of the truck, grabbing what she needed. They had only used the damn thing because the warlock couldn’t use a portal. She could guarantee he thought he had gained one on her. Arsehole.

  “Ready to go home, Bas?” she asked, and closed her eyes and gathered her magic. The ability to create a portal was a skill that had taken most of her life to master. As a relic hunter, it was needed. She wouldn't have been able to pass her tests without it. That being said, every cast took its toll.

  “Let's go home, witch.”

  The power filled her, each cell of her body reacting as she called out for the portal, her mind focused on one word: home. She felt the shift in energies, felt her body move through magic and light, until her feet once again hit solid ground.

  There she stood, her eyes closed as she tried to calm her heart and her breathing. Only to have Bas ruin it.

  “Izzy? This ain't home.”

  3

  Maeve sat on her favourite rock and watched Dave frolic in the waters. His tentacles would erupt now and again, spraying her with water and making her laugh. Dave did that a lot. As the youngest of the krackens, he was also the smallest. Small being a matter of opinion. He could still take out a decent-sized fishing boat if he had a tantrum, but he was far too small to decimate a fleet of ships like his ancestors used to do. Apparently, he was still in his baby state and would have a growth spurt at about 100 to 125 years old. Another three years and she had a growing kracken to worry about.

  Maeve smiled. She’d had worse things to worry about. Dave was a pleasure, only he had started getting down. She didn't blame him. Up until recently, he had two brothers.

  Maximus had been the oldest and biggest. He had paid the price and sacrificed himself to save them all. Dying in her arms. Maeve still woke up at night, crying about it. Then there was Brutas. He was the second largest and the one they had all had to watch. Brutas, for some insane reason, was handsy. They’d even had a special stick made to stop him from reaching out with his tentacles and grabbing people’s arses.

  But that had also come to a stop. Maeve's cousin, Arietta, had found her magic and, unfortunately, Brutas had been in the crossfire.

  He hadn't died like Maximus, but Dave acted as if he had. Brutas had been changed and was now sat upstairs with the boys as a human. A very large, very muscled human.

  “Yo, Maeve,” a voice called out. Arietta was standing next to the pool, waving over to her. Her cousin had quickly become her best friend. Bonded by magic and their missing mothers, they had made their own little family. With her pirate and Arietta’s warlock, they had found a happiness they hadn’t realised they craved.

  Things had been great, perfect really. Yet something didn't feel right.

  “Hey, you okay?” Maeve asked as she moved closer to her cousin.

  “Yeah and no,” Arietta stated, and Maeve nodded.

  “I know just what you mean. Are the boys upstairs?”

  “Yeah. Apparently Brutas is setting a new record for how many tuna sarnies he can eat in one sitting. I left at 42.”

  “42? Is there going to be enough bread?”

  “Here? No. Maybe the town. But we may have to ship some in from elsewhere.”

  “Bloody hell, that’s a lot of tuna,” Maeve stated.

  “He's a big boy, and an even bigger kracken.”

  “True.” Maeve turned and, with Arietta, watched Dave as he dived in and out of the water. The colours of Merlin's Gate always made it seem magical and beautiful. Maeve loved her home, loved everything about it. Loved each carving, every stone.

  Static started to fill the cave and Dave immediately dove under the water.

  “You feel that?” Maeve asked, as she automatically called upon her power.

  “Yeah,” Arietta answered, doing the same.

  Both girls watched as a portal began to form, the swirling lights starting as a small circle before getting bigger, until they lit the whole cavern. The light was so bright both girls had to cover their eyes. They could feel the magic, feel the push and pull as it reacted with the power from Merlin’s Gate, yet it didn't feel negative. There was no malice with the magic.

  As if a light had been turned out, the portal vanished, leaving behind a girl and a squirrel.

  “Izzy? This ain't home.” The words from the squirrel filled the cavern, as the squirrel eyed them up. The stare was so intense that both Maeve and Arietta backed up a step.

  They both watched as the girl opened her eyes, revealing a set of grey orbs in a face that seemed so familiar.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Her voice was surprisingly deep and husky.

  “Er, hi.” Maeve stepped forward, ignoring the glaring squirrel. She was concerned. No one should be able to portal into the Gate. They had reinforced all the wards, especially since the siren had messed with the magic of the Gate. So, they had taken precautions, large ones. It had cost them, but it was worth it.

  “How the hell did we get here?” the squirrel shouted, making all three of them jump with surprise. It also brought with it the scurry of claws on stone and the flapping of wings slicing through the air, as both Binky and Grundlepus appeared.

  “I don't know, Bas. There’s no need to shout. You are right by my ear, you know. Hell, I think the whole country heard you shout,” the woman argued with the squirrel, and Maeve smiled. Now she remembered why she looked familiar. This woman, this witch, was the daughter of Blossom Moonchild, her aunt and the third miss
ing sister, which meant the witch in front of her was her cousin.

  “Hi,” Maeve called again. “Welcome to Kracken’s Hole.”

  “Thank yo— Wait, what? Kracken’s Hole?”

  “Yes.” Maeve nodded, smiled, and moved to step closer, only to have the small squirrel growl at her. She watched as he jumped down from his perch on the witch’s shoulder and set his stern gaze upon her.

  “Wait a goddamn minute. Kracken’s Hole? The place that little box told us about?” He paused to look back at the witch, who nodded and then shrugged.

  “Fuck no,” he growled again, only to have Maeve clear her throat in an attempt to calm the situation. Only the squirrel's next words stopped her.

  “Do you know who I am?” the squirrel started to shout, much to the embarrassment of his witch and the amusement of the other familiars.

  “Err, no.”

  “Behold, I am wrath!” The squirrel spread his arms out wide, making his small form only a tad bigger.

  “Bas,” his witch warned, yet he continued.

  “I am the shadow in the night!” he shouted, the echo filling the cavern, making Maeve smirk. Arietta chuckled.

  “I am—”

  “Cute?” Maeve finished for him, making the squirrel stutter.

  “Adorable?” Arietta continued.

  “What? No. I am your worst nightmare!”

  “Aw, but so damn snuggly. Just look at his fluffy tail,” Maeve stated, but was unable to hold back the giggle.

  “Bas,” the witch called out, but was stopped as Binky and Grundlepus moved forward. Both eased to the side of the now dejected-looking squirrel and placed a wing and a paw around him.

  “It’s okay,” Binky consoled.

  “But they…” the squirrel started to sob. “I’m not cute, dammit.”

  “We know. You are a demon sent from hell. They never get it. Come on, let's get you some hot chocolate.”

  A loud sniff answered Binky, before it was followed by, “With marshmallows.”

  “Of course, if that’s what the demon wants.”

  All three witches watched as the squirrel nodded enthusiastically. “The demon wants.”

  All three familiars walked off together. As they rounded the corner, Binky's tick kicked in.

  “TWAT.”

  “What the…?” The witch turned and looked at Maeve.

  “Don't stress about it,” Maeve answered, and held out her hand. “I’m Maeve, and this is Arietta. Welcome to Kracken’s Hole. Welcome home.”

  4

  Isabeau cupped the mug in front of her with both hands. It was a huge mug with, Don't even think about it, written in bold script around it. In its depths was tea, the mother’s nectar, and the only thing that made her feel a semblance of normal. Usually, after the kind of day she’d had, it took copious amounts of chocolate and alcohol to relax her.

  “So, Isabeau,” the violet-haired witch called Maeve started.

  “Izzy— call me Izzy. It's easier to say,” she answered and smiled. “Are you sure Bas is going to be okay?”

  “Not really?” Maeve answered honestly. “He’s currently being consoled by a pigeon with Tourette’s and a tom cat with the emotional stability of a woman not on HRT. There's going to be sobbing, comfort eating, and most likely poker. I can guarantee it won't be pretty.”

  “Oh, err, alright then,” Isabeau answered. She still felt shell-shocked, and a tad overwhelmed. This was the last thing she expected to deal with when she had woken up this morning. Finding out she did indeed have family alive was… emotional, and Isabeau was not an emotional person. No, she was a kick-arse witch with Indiana Jones tendencies and a familiar who would be more comfortable being a pickpocket.

  “So, as I said before, I’m Maeve and this is Arietta. We are your cousins. Our mothers were sisters,” Maeve explained.

  “So, did you know your mothers, or did they dump you somewhere too?” Isabeau asked. Yes, she was still hurt at being abandoned by her mother.

  “We both never knew our mothers. I was raised by the Knox Coven and Arietta stayed with her father,” Maeve admitted. The knowledge that this kind and friendly witch was raised by the Knox’s made her blink.

  “The Knox sisters? They raised you?” Isabeau asked, shocked.

  “Raised implies they took an interest in me. More like, they let me reside within the coven until they kicked me out,” Maeve responded with a shrug.

  “Are they as scary as people make out?”

  “Worse. If I had let them, they would have eaten Binky as a chick,” Maeve growled out, and by that alone Isabeau could see the love the witch had for her familiar.

  “My father raised me to believe I had no magical ability, and then used to me to try and gain power from the Gate,” Arietta stated calmly. “He's dead now.”

  Isabeau blinked at the complete lack of emotion from the witch with regards to her father. Although she could still see some hurt and pain in her eyes.

  “I'm glad he's dead,” Arietta stated, and reached into the centre of the table, where a plate of cookies sat. “He was a twat.”

  “So, what's your story, Izzy?” Maeve asked, as she grabbed her own cookie.

  “My story? Oh, well, I was handed to the Ambustio Coven, up North, as a baby and was told that no one from my family survived. I was trained as the Ambustios are and am now a relic hunter. It wasn't until a sodding box nearly took my head off in a tomb in the Amazon did I know I had family, and it was the first time I’d heard of Kracken’s Hole.”

  “Wow, you’re like a witchy Lara Croft.” Arietta chuckled. “I bet that’s exciting.”

  “Yeah— well, it was until this mission.” Isabeau pulled her backpack up onto her knee and dug out the box that contained the Incan calendar. “This little gem could cause a cataclysmic event. I was on my way to deliver it to my coven when my magics brought me here.”

  She watched as the other two witches eyed the box warily. She didn't blame them. She would give it a wide berth too, especially with the aura of power coming from the box.

  “I’m not sure why you were brought straight here, Izzy, but I'm sure there's a reason. Hey, the box that nearly fell on your head— did it say who it was from?”

  “Nope. Should it?”

  “Was there glitter, like a monumental amount of it?” Maeve asked, getting to her feet, her gaze fixed behind Isabeau.

  “Yeah, actually, there was loads, and it was pink.” Isabeau watched her cousin carefully. “What’s going on?”

  “So, you not only have family,” Maeve started, but Arietta continued, “but you also have a godmother as well. We all do. She's, err…”

  “Mad as a box of frogs and has an obscene love for glitter.”

  “Yes, that too.”

  “Okay, I understand. I think,” Isabeau answered, though she wasn't convinced. Everything just seemed so crazy. So out of whack compared to what she was used to.

  “I don't actually know who you are on about?” Isabeau asked.

  “Baba Yaga,” both Maeve and Arietta answered together.

  “Oh.” Isabeau had heard of the infamous leader, a woman who one does not fuck with. She was known for swift retribution of the naughty witches, and she gave zero fucks. Isabeau had never had dealings with her because she had been a good little witch, making sure she didn't do anything that would gain her wrath. Only now, she was her goddess-damned god daughter.

  “Yeah, and she surprised us too, but it was always with glitter. Lots of glitter.” Arietta smiled.

  “Have you met her?” Isabeau asked.

  “No,” they both answered, and for some reason she felt a weight lift. She wasn't sure she could handle the pressure of meeting someone of her standing and not vomiting and making a total arse of herself.

  “Right,” she answered simply.

  “But she always sends a box with glitter and a little rhyme, and then—”

  “And then what?” Isabeau asked, before getting up and facing the others. They had moved be
hind her and were facing the small living area that housed a sofa, two chairs, and a gorgeous wooden coffee table.

  On the coffee table was another wooden box.

  “And then another box appears,” Maeve finished.

  “Like that one?”

  “Yeah,” Maeve answered sadly, before she turned and looked at Isabeau “It’s from your mum.”

  Without any further words, Maeve stepped forward and hugged Isabeau, followed by Arietta. Then they both left, leaving Isabeau alone with the new wooden box.

  A wooden box from her mother.

  Isabeau wasn't an emotional witch. She never had been. There had been rarely a time when she had cried or let anyone know how she felt. Yet now, she felt them— a torrent of tears as they fell from her eyes, making her vision swim.

  Slowly, she approached the table, and there, on top of the box, lay a simple card. As she wiped her eyes, the letters stood out.

  Isabeau

  That was the moment, for the first time in her life, that Isabeau let go and sobbed.

  5

  Isabeau sat on the sofa— well, not sat, more along the lines of dropped onto the plush seating. She bounced gently, her eyes never leaving the swirling script on the card. Her own name had never felt so foreign to her.

  Reaching out, she plucked the cream card from the top of the box and unfolded it. There was no posh envelope or seal, just a single piece of card folded in two.

  The writing inside wasn't tidy, not like she expected. Though Isabeau wasn't sure what she expected from a woman she had never met. This scrawl was spider-like and went at an angle across the page. It felt as messy as her life currently did.

  My Little Dragon,

  How do I start this and not sound cheesy and cliché? Though I think my sisters may have already taken care of that.

  You see, Isabeau, I didn't want children. I wanted to be free, unencumbered by responsibility, and then we were announced as guardians.

  It was our fate, apparently, and in turn we would birth the next generation, whether we wanted to or not.