by Susan Hayes
She wasn’t sure if his mouth should be declared a dangerous weapon or a national treasure. He was alpha to the core, totally in control and sure of himself in a way that cranked her hell-yeah meter up to thirteen.
The kiss ended when Shaz erupted into a cacophony of yowls and cursing that only a Siamese cat could manage. Orion raised his head and gave her a rueful grin. “Next time, no familiar.”
“Uh huh.” Words failed her, but she managed to nod as she grudgingly stepped out of his arms. “Wait. Next time?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll bring dinner. There will be a picnic. Kissing. Crème brulee. Possible nudity. Sound good?”
The only thing that would make it better was if it were happening now and not tomorrow. She wasn’t good at waiting. As far as she was concerned, anticipation was highly overrated and usually only encouraged by people who couldn’t afford instant gratification. “Sounds amazing.”
He flashed her that panty-melting grin again. “I’ll see you at six.” Then he glowered down at Shaz. “And you, behave yourself, or I’ll be looking up recipes on how to season a skewered cat.”
She watched as he hopped on his bike, pulled his helmet back on, and left, giving her a nice look at his ass as he drove away.
“What in the name of the Goddess’s glittering go-go boots do you see in that wolf?”
She answered without thinking. “He’s the only one in this place with no preconceived expectations of who I am. I don’t know who the fuck I am right now, so how could anyone else?”
“I know you,” Shaz declared.
“You think you do.” She snapped her fingers, summoning her luggage from the pub and sending it to stack itself by the door of what was apparently her home. “But I haven’t been home in thirteen years, so how could you?”
“Because I’m your familiar. I have been at your side since before you could walk. I slept on your bed, guarded your dreams, and shared every moment of your life until you were taken from me. You can’t have changed that much. You’re still my Fern.”
He looked up at her, his blue eyes clouded with unhappiness. “Even if you don’t remember me.”
She crouched down beside him. “I don’t remember much. But I do know that I’m supposed to know you.” She tapped her chest. “My heart says so, but my brain is too messed up right now.”
Shaz stretched up and butted his head against her chin. “Then I guess it’s time to break out the big guns. Come inside. Buried behind the tofu are a couple of litres of Moose Tracks ice cream. The one your mother only let you have on special occasions.”
“Moose…” She frowned. “That’s the one with the peanut butter cups and chocolate ribbons. Right? Oh my Goddess, I do remember that! You used to sneak me a bowl when I was having a bad day.”
She scooped Shaz up and did a joyful two-step up the garden path to a tune that popped into her head, lyrics and all. “Shazam-alanga-dingdong. I wrote you a sing-song. Come on and sing it with meeeee.”
She stopped dead. “Where did that come from?”
“You’re remembering! You’ve been singing that fucking ditty to me since you were tiny. Oh, Fern, you still can’t carry a tune in a blessed bucket, but Goddess, I have missed hearing you mangle music.”
She should be insulted, but somehow, it all felt familiar. Like the silly song she’d just sung. Thank the Goddess Orion hadn’t been around to witness that. “I guess I am. Alright, Shazzy, bring on the ice cream. It’s official. I’m back!”
Her jubilant mood was only slightly dampened by the discovery that the inside of her childhood home matched the exterior perfectly. Every room had a different colour scheme, the floors and walls clearly showed where every extension had been tacked on, and everywhere she looked, there were handcrafted knickknacks, patchwork quilts and huge cushions embroidered with sayings like Goddess bless this mess and Home is where the heart is.
“First thing tomorrow morning we’re calling a decorator.” She waved around them. “I can’t live like this. There’s no Feng Shui to this place, and it clearly hasn’t been updated since Harvest Gold and Avocado Green were acceptable colours for appliances.” She froze. “Oh Goddess. Please tell me the kitchen has been redone since the seventies. I’m not sure I can eat ice cream that’s been inside that kind of abomination.”
Shaz made a disgusted noise. “This is what comes of leaving your upbringing to a materialistic magpie like Tiffany. If I had known she was the one they’d entrusted to take care of you…”
“You know her?” Even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t right. Shaz hadn’t recognized Tiff until she’d identified herself. She should probably call her aunt, too. Let her know where she was. Her aunt. Ugh. That was going to take some getting used to.
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and checked her messages. Seven. All from a strange number. “Hang on. I need to deal with this. Then, answers.”
She played the first voice mail. It was Tiffany. “Hey, Fern. You took off before we could talk. I know you’re mad at me, but, call me, okay? There’s more I need to tell you. Oh, and I’m on Greg’s phone. I’ll uh…be at his house, too. Shaz knows where it is, and the phone number.” There was a soft giggle. “Stop that! I’m still on the phone!”
“Sorry. Shifter mating is sort of an all go, no brakes deal. And it’s been thirteen years. So, yeah. You can be mad at me about that, too. Call me!”
The message ended. Fern didn’t bother to play the others. She just texted that she was with Shazzy at home and tossed the phone back on the counter. “Okay. Where were we?”
“You were asking me if I knew Tiffany, the witch who just blew you off to blow a bear.” The look on Shaz’s face had enough judgment in it to power an entire convent of old-school nuns. “I know her by name, only. Which is probably why they picked her. Your father is the youngest of three children. Your Uncle Casper is the oldest. Nice guy. A lot like your dad. Steady, reliable. Last I heard he was funding a new planet-wide magical satellite net to prevent human satellites from spotting anything that might give away the supernatural community.”
The name felt familiar, and she tested out the words. “Uncle Casper.” She caught a flash of dark hair and a bearded man smiling down at her. “Oh! He used to call me pollywog. Is that right?”
“That’s him.” Shaz led her to the kitchen, which at first glance looked almost modern with its maple cabinets and pale-yellow walls, and then…she noticed what was missing. “Where the hell are the appliances? All I see is a wood stove. Goddess above, please tell me this place has electricity. And Wi-Fi. If there’s no internet connection, I’m headed back to town right this fucking second. I have a standard of living to maintain.” Green and gold sparks shimmered like flames across her hands and lower arms and she was three seconds from teleporting her ass to the nearest hotel—once she figured out where that was—when Shaz hopped onto the counter and tapped a light switch with his paw. The lights came on.
“Easy, sparkerella. No need for a magical fucking meltdown. There’s power. And Wi-Fi.” He padded a few steps farther and bobbed a small console she hadn’t noticed. Several of the cupboard doors rolled back to reveal modern appliances hidden inside. “Your mother liked to keep things simple. Your father liked to be comfortable. They compromised.”
“Oh.” She dialed her magic back and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m hanging on by a few tattered threads here.”
“I know. Snuffy warned me this might happen, but I didn’t understand just how much you’d forget or how that would change you. You were right before. I don’t know you as well as I thought. It’s your Aunt Tiffany’s influence. I can see why they picked her, but still…” He sniffed. “She wouldn’t have been my choice. Your uncle was all about family. He often visited. Tiffany never did. I don’t think you’d ever even met her. She was always jetting around the globe with no responsibilities and about as much ambition as a sloth with a valium habit. Nobody had any idea where she was on any given day, so no one would miss her if she suddenl
y turned into a cat and went off to play familiar for a decade or so.”
There was no missing the hurt and disdain in her cat’s tone, and she didn’t like either one. The hurt was something only time could fix, but the judgment was going to be a problem. “Before you go dismissing her life choices, try to remember that is exactly the way I’ve been living since I left. Fancy boarding school. Travel. Shopping. I was a globe-trotting witch with a trust fund and zero responsibilities. Then I get glitter-bombed on my birthday and discover I’m not who I thought I was. Oh, and I have to save a place I don’t remember from a threat I know nothing about.”
She flopped into a chair, zapped a pile of eclairs into existence, and then added a vanilla milkshake with a double shot of Kahlua for her nerves. “It’s been a very long week.”
“For me, too. Breeze arrived the same day she got her letter. When you didn’t show up…I thought maybe you weren’t coming at all.”
Fuck. Right. She wasn’t the only one having a craptastic day with an extra dash of banana sauce. She could fix this. Starting with ice cream.
“Goddess in your wisdom true,
We need your help, we’re feeling blue,
We need a seriously fabu dessert,
To fix our hearts and soothe our hurts.”
Cupboard doors sprang open, dishes took flight, and the fridge disgorged a wild variety of ingredients into the whirlwind forming in the middle of the kitchen.
Shaz howled in alarm and dove under the table as the mother of all ice cream sundaes slowly came into being.
Ice cream and fudge sauce were struck by a meteor shower of cherries and then speared by a flight of bananas that shot out of their peels a few seconds before impact. Fluffy clouds of whipped cream appeared near the ceiling like storm clouds, circling twice before giving in to gravity and falling on top of the mountain of frozen dairy deliciousness. The whole thing was finished off with a hailstorm of sprinkles, and then the kitchen was quiet again.
It might not fix everything wrong in their lives, but by the Goddess, ice cream would at least make them feel better for the moment.
Chapter Six
Shaz slunk out from his hiding place like the first man to leave his fallout shelter after the bombing stopped. “What the fucking hell was that?”
“Dessert. Want some?” She held up a bowl. “I made enough for two.”
He hopped onto the table and eyed the magically constructed confection that took up most of the real estate. It was taller than he was. “You made enough for a legion. Your mother would die if she could see you eating all this processed food.”
“You mean she’d die again.” Fern filled a couple of bowls and pushed one toward Shaz.
“She’s not dead, Fern. Your parents faked their deaths to protect themselves, and you.”
Her last thread of sanity snapped like a cheap rubber band. She was tempted to dive face-first into the sundae o’ doom and drown herself in it. Instead, she closed her eyes and gave in to the madness. She screamed, swore and railed at the Goddess, Baba Yaga, and everyone who had left her alone to deal with this crazy, cock-up mess. Partway through her rant, Shaz jumped into her lap and she cuddled him as she vented.
When she finally felt better, she opened her eyes and sighed.
“Better now?”
“Some. Care to explain what you mean about my parents not being dead?”
“I can’t believe Tiffany didn’t tell you. I mean, she had to have known.”
“Baba Yaga whammied her, too. She wasn’t allowed to tell me much until I was back in town, including the fact she wasn’t allowed to say anything until we got here.”
“Still. She should have explained instead of making goo-goo eyes at Greg. Hussy. Your parents should have picked someone else.”
“Stop, Shazzy. I’m angry at her too, but she was there for me when no one else was, so no more bashing Tiff, okay? You couldn’t be with me. I understand that, but I was still left alone with no friends or family. I don’t even remember having them. Well, not really. It’s all still fuzzy.”
She took a few fortifying spoonfuls of ice cream. “Tell me about my parents.”
Shaz tapped a paw to her locket. “You got the message from them?”
“I did.”
“Can I hear it?”
“Sure.” They listened to the message while she downed several more mouthfuls of ice cream. It helped dull the ache in her chest as they spoke.
Shaz listened and then purred softly. “It’s nice to hear their voices again.”
“It is.”
“Did you miss them?” he asked.
The question caught her off guard. “Of course I did. I mean. I had no parents. That leaves a hole in your life big enough to swallow a dragon. It sucked.”
“But you didn’t really remember them enough to mourn. Did you?” Shazzy pressed.
This was dangerous territory, the kind with razor-wire fences that read High voltage, keep out and No trespassing in big red letters. She’d always suspected something was wrong with her. Her emotional default was hard-wired to somewhere between easy going and bubbly, and not much could move the dial. No matter what was going on in her life, she just couldn’t bring herself to feel sad or angry for very long. She shook her head and deflected.
“You’re supposed to be telling me about my parents, not practicing pop psychology.”
Shaz nodded. “I’ll tell you what I know, but remember, I only learned about this recently. The people who knew the truth were all bound to secrecy, but once Breeze came home, things changed.”
“Okay.”
“Your mother was one of three witches tasked with protecting Wyrding Way. It’s an important source of magical energy. In fact, Fate herself draws from its power. Thirteen years ago, a new threat arose. A fucking warlock with black magic and a soul darker than the deepest shit-pits of hell. His name was Frank Frellshingle, and he set out to destroy your mother’s coven so he could claim the magic for himself.”
“Seriously? My arch enemy is named Frellshingle?” She threw her hands up in disgust, sending a spoonful of ice cream and fudge sauce flying. “Is the Goddess smoking the good stuff, or did she outsource the story of my life to a second-string hack who couldn’t cut it in Hollywood?”
“You keep talking like that and the Goddess is likely to light up your ass with the purple spark of pissiness. Trust me. You won’t enjoy that.”
She stabbed her spoon into the slowly melting mountain of carbs. “It’s still a stupid name.”
“Agreed. Which is why we think he’s calling himself the Father of Shadows now.”
She just groaned and shovelled more whipped cream into her mouth. The hits just kept on coming.
When she didn’t say anything else, Shaz continued. “Frellshingle, that overbearing asswipe, failed to defeat your mother and the others, but he got his revenge. As far as your parents could determine, he made a deal with some truly dark powers and managed to tap into the local magic just enough to alter the fate of the coven and their loved ones with a curse.”
“A curse? Fuck a duck driving a pickup truck, that’s bad shit.”
“The worst,” Shaz agreed. “If everyone died, that would have left you three girls as the new guardians. At thirteen, you wouldn’t have lasted much longer than a virgin at his first orgy.”
“So…they faked their deaths?” Frustration beat out good sense, and she looked up at the ceiling. “Yo, Goddess. My life is not a freaking soap opera. Hashtag, I want new writers. Please.”
Shaz dove for cover again just as a bolt of violet lightning shot through the ceiling, did a showy little zigzag across the table, and then swooped under her chair and nailed her square in the ass.
She leapt to her feet, grabbed a handful of ice cream and slapped it on her still-smoldering dress. “Owie fuck! Okay, okay. Sorry about the writer crack. I’m sure whatever adventure comes my way will be amazing and awesome and I will only be slightly traumatized by it all. But since you’re listeni
ng, oh Fabulous one, got any hints to share? Maybe a team of superheroes to help me kick the father of overly dramatic names out of town? I could use some help!”
She hadn’t expected an answer, so when the whipped cream suddenly started forming itself into words that danced across her sundae, she took two quick steps back. Just in case it exploded or something.
“I have given you all you will need.”
The letters melted back into the sundae with a faint schlump.
“Well, that was interesting.”
“I warned you. Her Glory’s patience has limits.”
“She’s got good aim, too.” Fern looked down at her mess of a dress and sighed. “I need to go outside and get some air. Think things through. What else can you tell me? The short version, for now.”
“Fate intervened directly after the curse was cast. She is one scary force of fucking nature, and she was more than a little irked that Frellshingle messed about with powers that didn’t belong to him. She couldn’t undo what he’d done, but she could circumvent the bastard’s spell. Fate sent your parents away. I have no idea where, but it got them out of the path of the curse. If you, Breeze, and Luna successfully defend this place against these new attacks, their fates will revert back to what they should have been, and everyone comes home.”
She let that sink in. Hope bloomed, but it was soured by an underscore of bitter fear. What if she wasn’t up for this? Her skills were in a very different area. Retail, gourmet food, fashion—she was good at those things. How in the name of the Goddess’s ta-ta tassels was she going to manage this? “So, if I don’t fuck this up, I get my folks back?”
“Yes.”
“And if I fail, they’re gone forever, and so are the other two girls’ parents?”
“Yes.”
She reached her breaking point and crashed into it like a cartoon coyote hitting the grill of an oncoming delivery truck. “That’s it! I’m done. I can’t hear anything else tonight. Not even ice cream can fix this, and that is paramount to blasphemy.”