Every Witch Way but Wicked

by Barbra Annino

  When she finally did get home, Domino wasn’t in his usual place in the foyer waiting for her. Nor did he run up to greet her or demand food. Sadie heard mysterious scurrying in the kitchen.

  “Domino?” she asked, putting her purse onto the small table by the front door. “Domino? Elektra? Anybody home?”

  She followed the sounds to the kitchen.

  “Domino, you didn’t get into the trash again, did you?” she asked as she walked through the door.

  She gasped at what she saw.

  Domino was on the floor, his head flat on the cool tiles. Pieces of torn cellophane, shredded ribbon, and peanut-butter-colored crumbs were all around him. Elektra was perched on the counter, licking her paw.

  “Domino, did you eat those cookies?” Sadie asked. “That’s not good for you! Bad dog!”

  “I’m sorry!” Domino whined. “I was hungry, hungry, hungry. And there was nothing in the bowl!”

  Sadie stared at him, her mouth hanging open.

  “It was the cat’s idea!” Domino said. “She knocked them off the counter for me to rip open. And she ate one, too!”

  “No, I didn’t!” Elektra replied. Then the cat’s eyes grew wide and she clapped a paw over her mouth.

  “Uh … when did you two start talking?” Sadie asked.

  “We always talk!” Domino said. “I say, ‘Feed me!’ or ‘Walk me!’ or ‘I need to pee!’. Which, by the way, I really, really need to do. Should I just use the pee room with the big machines?”

  “The laundry room?” Sadie asked. “You’re not supposed to pee there.”

  “I thought it was the indoor pee room.”

  “That explains why I’m always cleaning up after you,” Sadie said.

  “I told you, you’re supposed to use the box,” Elektra said to the dog. “Then bury it. Like this.” Elektra swiped her paw on the counter a few times.

  “But I can’t fit in the box!” Domino protested.

  “This is crazy,” Sadie said, shaking her head. She scooped up the torn fragments of cellophane and ribbon and tossed them in the trash. “How can you talk? Was it these cookies from Mrs. Bartleby? It had to be.”

  “Cookies?” Domino’s ears perked up.

  “Don’t get excited, you already ate them all.”

  “Oh.” His ears flattened.

  “Domino, go get your leash. I think we need to take a walk down to Mrs. Bartleby’s. Right now!”

  “Okay, okay, I need to pee pretty, pretty bad,” Domino said. “Unless you want me to go in the indoor pee room.”

  “There is no indoor pee room!” Sadie said.

  Domino slunk out of the room and returned with the leash in his mouth. Sadie hooked it to his collar, then she looked at the cat.

  “Elektra, do you want to come for a walk with us?”

  “A walk?” Elektra jumped down from the counter and padded toward the living room, swishing her thick tail. “Hmph. It’s almost time for seventh-nap. A walk. Are you crazy?”

  Elektra hopped onto the couch and curled up.

  “Come on, Domino.” Sadie walked him to the front door.

  “Oh, please, please, please!” Domino said. “I need to pee, pee, pee!”

  Outside, Domino hurried down the steps, hoisted his leg, and peed all over an azalea.

  “Oh, that’s a huge relief,” Domino sighed.

  “Could you try not talking until we get to Mrs. Bartleby’s?”

  “I could try, yeah,” Domino replied as they continued down the front walk to the little gate. “How am I doing so far? Am I keeping quiet? Am I, am I, am I?”

  “Try harder,” Sadie said.

  As they walked down the sidewalk, Sadie saw a man jogging toward them from the opposite direction, wearing black shorts and a tank top. Her pulse raced. She didn’t know who he was, but she’d seen him jogging around the neighborhood the last couple of months. He looked about her own age, early thirties, and really filled out his skimpy jogging clothes nicely. He was tan and on the muscular side, with dark eyes and hair.

  “Hey, it’s that guy you like!” Domino shouted. “Don’t be shy! Go right up and sniff his butt!”

  “Quiet!” Sadie said, blushing. She hoped the guy hadn’t heard anything. She smiled as he jogged by, and he smiled back and waved. Sadie noticed he was wearing headphones, and she felt relieved.

  She hurried Domino down the sidewalk.

  “How did you know I like that guy?” Sadie whispered.

  “That’s obvious!”

  “How obvious?”

  “Well, every time you see him, your heartbeat gets faster, you always fumble whatever you’re doing, and you smell like mating-time.”

  “I smell like what?”

  “You know. Like puppy-making.”

  “Let’s break off this conversation,” Sadie said. She reached the wrought-iron gate to Mrs. Bartleby’s front yard, but then she saw the bags of birdseed on the front porch and began to worry.

  “No, no!” Sadie opened the gate and led Domino into the yard. He barked at all the birds, sending blue jays and cardinals flying. Sadie hurried to the front door, pressed the bell. When no response came, she pounded on the door.

  “You can’t be out of town yet!” Sadie shouted. “Come on!”

  Then she saw the note taped to the closest bag of birdseed. It was from Mrs. Bartleby, thanking Sadie for filling the birdfeeders while she was gone.

  Sadie sat down on the porch steps, her shoulders slumping.

  “What are we going to do, Domino?” she asked.

  “You could drop some food on the floor and I could scramble after it,” he replied. “That’s always fun.”

  “But I have to talk to Mrs. Bartleby and ask her about those cookies.”

  “Cookies?” Domino’s ears perked up.

  “Again, I’m talking about the ones you already ate. Mrs. Bartleby said they would help me understand you better.”

  “Me?” Domino’s tail wagged.

  “Yeah, you’ve been acting so sad or sick or something, the vet said you were okay … so what is wrong with you? Are you unhappy lately?”

  “Oh, sure. I’m at home with cat all day, and she doesn’t like to play fetch … or play anything, really. And you’re gone, and there’s nothing for me to do.”

  “I’m sorry, Domino.” She rubbed his head. “I have to work or we wouldn’t have anywhere to live. Or anything to eat.”

  “Mr. Johnson’s trash can is full of good things to eat! But you never let me into it.”

  “Leave his trash can alone. What can I do to make you happier?”

  “I don’t know. Change up these boring walks a little. I’ve smelled all there is to smell along here. Can’t we go somewhere new?”

  “Sure. Do you want to go to the dog park tomorrow?”

  “The dog park! Yeah, yeah, yeah! The dog park! The dog park!” Domino ran in circles, wagging his tail.

  “Okay, relax! We’ll go tomorrow. Let’s fill these bird feeders and get home.” Sadie shook her head. “Are you really talking to me? Are you sure I’m not crazy?”

  “You’re crazy if you don’t grab a snack from Mr. Johnson’s trash can.”

  When she was done feeding the birds, Sadie walked Domino back home. He chattered away the whole time, commenting on the smell of each mailbox, and what other dogs in the neighborhood had been eating.

  At home, Elektra the cat was lying on her back on the couch, snoring. She opened one eye when they returned.

  “Where’s my catnip?” Elektra asked. “You used to buy me those nice cans of catnip, and now you never do.”

  “Sorry, Elektra,” Sadie said. “I didn’t know you missed it that much.”

  “It helps me cope with the stress of my life,” Elektra said. Then she closed her eye and went back to sleep.

  The next day, the pets were still talking. After work, Sadie loaded Domino into her truck and headed for the dog park.

  “You have to be cool,” Sadie told the dog as they drove. “Don’t t
alk to anyone. Keep this talking thing between us, okay?”

  “Blaaaaaaaaar!” Domino said. That was the sound he made when he leaned his head out of the truck, letting the wind fill his mouth.

  “I’m serious, Domino!”

  “Huh? Yeah! Whatever you say!” Domino wagged his tail.

  They reached the dog park, which was really not more than a long walk from her house, but she’d been afraid of all the trouble her talking dog might cause along the way. Fortunately, there were no other cars on the parking lot. Unfortunately, she saw one person inside the chain-link fence—her mystery neighbor, Mr. Tall, Dark and Jogging himself. He played fetch with a red-and-white Boston terrier.

  “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Domino’s tail whipped while he scrabbled at the door, eager to get out.

  “Remember what I said? No talking!”

  “Sure, sure, sure!”

  “I’m serious, Domino.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

  Sadie reluctantly got out of the truck and walked Domino to the dog park gate, while he strained against her. She felt a little guilty for not bringing him here more often, when it was so close. She usually felt too exhausted after work. It was hard running an independent business, even a small one like the shop she’d inherited.

  Inside the gate, she let Domino off his leash, and he shot across the grassy turf to play with the Boston terrier. The little dog was completely focused on the tennis ball in his owner’s hand.

  “Look, Crafty, you’ve got a little friend,” Handsome Jogger Guy said. “Who wants to fetch?”

  Domino, to his credit, didn’t answer. The man threw the ball to the fair end of the fenced park, and both dogs took off after it.

  “Don’t I know you?” the man asked Sadie.

  “I think you live in my neighborhood.” Sadie offered him a small, nervous smile. “You jog.”

  “It’s an annoying habit,” he said. “My name’s Art.”

  “I’m Sadie.”

  The dogs returned, and the Boston terrier had the tennis ball gripped the ball in her mouth.

  “Good girl,” Art said. He threw the ball for them again.

  “She’s a cute dog,” Sadie said. “Good at fetching.”

  “Boston terriers don’t care about anything but getting you to throw the ball,” Art told her. “I always tell Crafty to stop trying to make fetch happen.”

  Sadie laughed, and he threw the ball for the eager dogs again.

  “How long have you lived here?” Sadie asked.

  “About four months now,” he said. “I went to Savannah College of Art about ten years and two lifetimes ago. Good times. I still miss them. How about you?”

  “I grew up in my house,” Sadie said. “My family’s been here forever.”

  “Ah, a townie.”

  “Yes, Mr. Art-school-hipster,” she said. “Wait. You went to art school, and your name is Art?”

  “I’m an artist named Art. And I think I’ve heard every joke that can be derived from that basic situation,” he said with a grin. “You’re free to try me, though.”

  “No fair!” Domino shouted, chasing Crafty as she ran back towards Art. “Hey, mister, your dog won’t share the ball ever!”

  Art stared at Domino. He ignored Crafty as she dropped the ball at his feet, wagging her tail.

  “Domino, hush!” Sadie said.

  “Sorry!” Domino said.

  “I’m pretty sure your dog is talking,” Art said. “Am I right about that?”

  “Yeah, um, she just started. It’s a … medical condition?”

  Art picked up the ball and held it toward Domino.

  “Hey, boy,” he said. “Do you want the ball?”

  “I sure do!” Domino wagged his tail.

  “Do you want to fetch? Fetch?” Art asked.

  “Oh boy, oh boy, I do!” Domino said, turning in circles.

  “Go fetch!” Art threw the ball, and both dogs chased it.

  “I’m surprised you’re not a little more freaked out,” Sadie said. “I know I am.”

  “I should be. I’m just a more accustomed to talking dogs than most people. I draw Rex and Snarky.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t you get the newspaper?”

  “No, I just read the news online,” Sadie told him.

  “Ah! I hate when people say that. Before you know it, there won’t be any more newspapers. And that means no more comics page.”

  “Oh, it’s a comic strip!” Sadie said.

  “Not a very well-marketed one, apparently,” Art said.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know!”

  “And what do you do?” he asked. “Brilliant animal trainer?”

  “Nope. I’m a locksmith.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “What? Is that weirder than drawing the Sunday funnies?”

  “I just don’t know many female locksmiths,” Art said.

  “How many locksmiths do you know?”

  “Good point. So, do you ever think about turning to a life of crime?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A locksmith would make a great burglar.”

  “That’s true,” Sadie said. “I could sneak into your house and you’d never know I was there.”

  “I would know,” Art said. “I think I’d notice a pretty girl and a talking dog in my house. So … how did he start talking?”

  Sadie told him about Mrs. Bartleby and the cookies.

  “So she’s a witch,” Art said.

  “No! She’s very nice.”

  “Aren’t there good witches?”

  Sadie shrugged.

  “I don’t really know about witches,” Sadie said. “But she definitely has something going on.”

  Domino and Crafty trotted back, moving slower now and panting. Crafty managed to pant while still gripping the tennis ball in her little mouth.

  “The dogs look tired,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Sadie bit her lip. She was ready to spend a little more time with Art the artist. She wasn’t in the mood to go home and be alone again.

  “You like Thai food?” Art asked.

  “I do. There’s a great place—”

  “—right around the corner,” Art said. “I guess there’s not much I can introduce you to in this town.”

  “There may be a few things,” Sadie said. “But you’ll have to try harder than that.”

  “I was thinking we could drop the dogs off and get a quick dinner, if you’re not too busy,” Art said. “We can leave the dogs in my yard.”

  “That would be nice,” Sadie said, trying to keep her smile under control. “For the dogs, I mean. Domino needs somebody to play with.”

  “Everybody does,” Art said, and Sadie couldn’t stop herself from blushing.

  The End

  About JL Bryan

  J.L. Bryan studied English literature at the University of Georgia and at Oxford, with a focus on the English Renaissance and the Romantic period. He also studied screenwriting at UCLA. He enjoys remixing elements of paranormal, supernatural, fantasy, horror and science fiction into new kinds of stories. He is the author of The Paranormals trilogy (Jenny Pox, Tommy Nightmare, and Alexander Death), the biopunk sf novel Helix, and other works. Fairy Metal Thunder, the first book in his new Songs of Magic series, will be available by October 2011. He lives in Atlanta with his wife Christina, one baby, two dogs, two cats, and assorted attic squirrels. His website is http://www.jlbryanbooks.com.

  THE TROUBLE WITH SPELLS

  by

  Camilla Chafer

  The further away Seren Winterstorm was from her sister, the weaker she felt the pull of the invisible bonds that inexplicably bound them together. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable and it made her fidget in her seat then clasp and unclasp her hands because she always had the feeling that she should be actively clinging on to the connection, not just allowing it to weaken. She and Étoile separated often – they were adults after all – but it didn’t get any ea
sier, especially after everything they had gone through recently in helping to protect their friend Stella and solve a mystery that they’d found themselves in the middle of. Seren was thoroughly looking forward to a few days free of mystery, she just wasn’t sure if mystery could do without her.

  David, her boyfriend and fellow witch, flashed his eyes from the coastal road to look at her. “You okay, honey?” he asked.

  “I can feel my link to Étoile weakening,” Seren replied, her mouth twitching into what she hoped was a reassuring smile. David wasn’t convinced. He never was. They’d known each other for years and years but the relationship was a relatively new thing. He’d always been able to see through her though. She kinda liked that.

  “You’ll be together again soon…and there’s this great invention called the telephone.”

  “Funny.” David knew she and Étoile would struggle to use their telepathy the more distance was put between them. They could message each other all right, but it would be like a telegram with silent staccato pauses standing in for ‘stop’ every few words. It was hardly worth the bother. They’d long ago agreed that distance telepathy should be used as an emergency line only.

  Strangely, standing alongside the bond Seren shared with Étoile was a newer connection. Where the bond to Étoile was viscous, like a length of invisible ribbon, even over distance, this one was gossamer fine, like a pulled thread. Once, years ago, it had been stronger, all their connections had been stronger, and Seren knew that their third, and very troubled sister, Astra, had come back ‘online’. All three of them had been strong once, intrinsically connected, not just as sisters but as sister witches. Seren wasn’t sure if this new – no, this re-connection was welcome or not considering Astra wasn’t exactly the most responsible witch. She hadn’t mentioned it to David—not yet anyway. She would have to call Étoile soon and ask her what she thought about it.

  For now though, she would put aside her sisterly niggles and focus on what she was really looking forward to—seeing her mom and dad again. With all the problems in their supernaturally strange world, Seren hadn’t had a lot of time for home visits. Now all she could think about was ice-cold mojitos on the porch, her mom’s fabulous cooking and the enormous amount of family and town gossip that would be heaped on her the moment she stepped through the garden gate. And she would finally get to introduce David to the rest of her larger-than-life magical family. Poor man. He really didn’t know what was about to hit him.