“Hunting,” Bob said and pulled out a gun that accidentally fired directly into Roger’s foot.
No one moved for ten seconds. Then the rabbit-faced man howled like a banshee.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” cried Bob, hugging his friend.
“What the hell is happening?” asked Chance.
Healing was not a gift of mine, but I knelt down to examine the wound anyway. There was no blood seeping through his loafer. Who hunts in loafers?
I looked at Bob. “Is that a BB gun?”
He bobbed his head. “Best model on the market.”
“I see,” I said, glancing at Chance.
“You do?” said Chance. “Because I’m confused as hell.”
Bob said, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, perhaps we could catch a ride with y'all. Seeing as how were miles and miles from home and poor Roger is injured. Where are you headed?”
Chance, bless his heart, looked at Bob and said, “Give us a minute.”
He pulled me aside and said, “We do not know these men. They could be dangerous.”
I took a gander at the two yahoos standing on the side of the road. Well, Bob was standing. In a puddle. Making a small dam with his feet. Roger was sort of draped over the hood of the car wincing.
“I’ve met dangerous men. These two twitwiffles are not smart enough to be dangerous. Let’s just drop them where they need to go and get on with our lives.”
“I hate everything about that idea.”
“I know, but I feel bad about almost killing them.”
Chance frowned and glanced at the men. Bob waved.
“We could leave them on the side of the road,” Chance said, hopefully.
“And if we did that, every fiber of my being tells me they would die a gruesome death. I can’t have that on my watch.”
Chance ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, this Seeker thing is a real bummer.”
“Tell me about it.”
And that’s how we gained two more passengers on our road trip.
~SIX~
Bob wasn’t such a bad guy. He was kind of sweet, actually. Except he loved show tunes and knew every word to every song from Cats and Wicked. I know this because he demonstrated for all of us. Repeatedly. He was also a playwright. Presumably a bad one, judging from his latest idea of re-telling the sinking of the Titanic from the iceberg’s point of view.
Roger liked to watch porn. Really weird porn. Sock puppet porn, food porn (which is a lot ickier than it sounds), and turtle porn. Yes, that’s right. There is such a thing as turtle porn and it will make your eyes bleed. So in a way, my hunch was correct. Though he wasn’t a predator, Roger was indeed a pervert.
“If I hear wha-wha-wha one more time, I’m going to stab you in the throat with my sword,” I said.
There was a bit of shuffling in the backseat. Then I heard the theme song to Jaws. “Apologies, Miss Stacy.”
Miss Stacy. I liked the ring of that. Southern charm was beginning to grow on me. I was about to suggest they drop the Miss and call me Majesty Stacy, when next to me, Chance decided to beat on the GPS like it was a drum and he was Ringo Starr. He swore under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Chance looked perplexed. “The damn thing keeps re-directing itself to somewhere called Assjacket, West Virginia. That can’t be right, can it? How can a town be called that? Who votes on something like that?”
Roger cleared his throat. “Actually, we programmed that in when you stopped at the last gas station. You see, that’s where we live. It would be lovely if you kind people would take us there.”
I turned to face them, narrowing my eyes. “You said you wanted to be dropped at the nearest Waffle House.”
Why he didn’t want to go to a hospital to get his nose, head, and foot examined, I didn’t know, but apparently Waffle House is the Denny’s of the south.
Bob said, “We did, but we’re having so much fun.”
I rubbed my temples. Why did these things always happen to me? The first vacation in forever, alone time with my handsome hunk, and I have to share it with the cast of a Will Ferrell movie.
Chance looked at me. “Roger and Bob are from Assjacket, Stacy.”
“That explains a lot.”
“It’s out of our way.”
“Big picture, babe. Big picture.”
Just then, a pickup driven by three fat cats sideswiped us.
The car careened and Chance fought to control the wheel as the truck sped out of sight. That’s when I spotted Thor in the bed of the truck. The look on his face indicated he was about to have a furry feast.
Roger said to Bob, “Was that Boba Fett?”
Bob said, “And Fat Bastard and Jango Fett.”
And that’s when I’d had just about enough.
I whipped around, grabbed both men by the collars and knocked their heads together. “Tell me what’s going on right now, or I swear to Danu, I’ll spear you both like freaking shish-kabobs and leave your corpses on the side of the road for the wild animals to devour.”
~SEVEN~
It’s amazing the information you get when you threaten someone’s life and they believe you will follow through with that threat.
Apparently, Bob and Roger were friends with a witch named Zelda, who was currently in a bit of a bind. They didn’t get into too many details on the nature of their relationship with said witch, but I got the distinct impression that Zelda was a bit of a badass and could intimidate the pants off a gangbanger.
The fat cats were Zelda’s inherited familiars and I immediately felt sorry for her. Why she needed three familiars was unclear, but personally, I would take a kangaroo over those obnoxious furballs any day.
Bob said something like, “Jeeves is a kangaroo,” but Roger elbowed him, so I didn’t get any further clarification on that piece of information. Nor did I want any.
“But how did the cats find me? How did they get—” I stopped talking mid-sentence when I remembered the ghost. “Who did Zelda inherit the cats from?”
Roger said, “Her Aunt Hildy, same person she inherited her house from.”
He went on to describe Hildy and it sounded like the ghost in my driveway. The cats must have ridden her spirit wave to Amethyst.
“And what about you two? How did you track us down?”
The pair shared a look and Chance flicked his eyes to me, questioning their hesitation.
Roger tugged at the whiskers on his chin. “Let’s just say that Assjacket is full of folks who are really good at tracking.”
I stared at Roger for a beat. “You mean like how some native Americans are trackers?”
Bob said, “Sure, let’s go with that.”
Since I didn’t care to get too involved with these people, I discontinued that line of questioning.
Now we were barreling down the highway after a truck driven by three fat cats who liked beer and gambling and a giant dog who should have been relaxing in front of a cop movie, to help a witch who had somehow managed to get herself into such a pickle that her own mentor couldn’t get her out of it.
What made them think I could help was beyond me, but it seemed that Baba Yaga needed Birdie’s “style” of magic.
Whatever that meant.
I called my grandmother. “You could have warned me that I really didn’t have a choice.”
“You could have been more helpful.”
“Any idea what I’m getting into?”
“Carol didn’t tell me. She said it was hard to describe. More of a visual thing.”
“Why did she come to us?”
Birdie sighed. “Do you recall when I said Carol and I used to belong to the same coven?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the reason I left was because it was a new order. New magic. They don’t do things the way the Geraghty women do. They don’t adhere to the Old Ways.”
My ancestors hailed from Kildare, Ireland. I am just one of many witches in a long line that
traces back to the Druids. We abided by Celtic law, the Triads, and worshipped ancient Irish goddesses like Brighid, Birdie’s namesake, and Danu, the mother goddess and queen of the Tuatha De Danann. We practiced earthly magic using crystals, herbs, the elements, and astrology.
“So what’s the difference between new magic and old magic?”
“Parlor tricks. And when you mix the two, the consequences can be quite severe.”
~EIGHT~
A while later, we watched in horror as the truck plowed directly into a gorgeous white Victorian home, taking out the front porch and adding a sunroom into the living room.
Chance said, “Who didn’t see that coming? Anyone?”
We all got out as the three cats scattered, Thor hot on their heels. I grabbed my magic bag and slammed the door.
A woman with blonde hair and life-threatening breasts ran through the gaping hole in the house, screaming at the cats as sparks flew from her fingers.
“She seems nice,” I said.
“That’s Sassy. She’s Zelda’s friend,” said Roger.
Bob waved. “Sassy!”
The well dressed woman stopped flailing her arms and turned toward us. “Is that her?” She rushed forward before anyone could get an answer out, grabbed my arm and tugged me through the debris, down a hallway and into a huge, modern kitchen filled with animals and one brooding man who looked like he was about to howl at the moon in frustration.
Bob said, “That’s Mac, Zelda’s mate.”
“Her mate?”
Roger elbowed him and Sassy said, “Er, let’s everyone get out of the kitchen.”
Mac growled and Sassy added, “Not you. Them.”
One by one the creatures—deer, chipmunks, raccoons—left the kitchen, some of them limping, some looking sickly. It was as if they had understood Sassy.
I studied her for a moment. “Are you an animal communicator?”
Sassy said, “Me? Nope. That’s Zelda. She’s the shif—”
Mac stepped forward, cutting Sassy off, and stuck his large hand out, introducing himself. He shook my hand, then Chance’s and said in a gruff voice that matched his mood, “Thank you for coming.” He shot Sassy a look and I got the distinct impression that there was a secret in this town. A secret that no one wanted anyone else to know. Even a fellow witch.
Which was okay by me. I had my own secrets. As long as what I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me or Chance, it didn’t matter.
“My pleasure. So how can I help?”
Mac and Sassy stepped aside and pointed to the distressed oak table.
There, sitting right in the middle of it, was a claw-footed crystal ball. Inside the ball, was a pissed off looking redhead.
“That’s something you don’t see every day,” said Chance.
~NINE~
Zelda’s hands were on her hips until she took a look at Roger’s face. Then she slapped her hand to her forehead in disbelief.
“He’s okay. Just a bump and a scratch,” I told her. I decided not to mention the shot to the foot. That, Bob could tell her.
“They must be close,” I said to Sassy.
“Oh she’s just upset because he’s hurt and that means—”
Mac clamped a hand over Sassy’s mouth. “Let’s get back to Zelda.”
Sassy nodded and he let go.
Chance and I exchanged a look that said, these people are bonkers.
I stepped forward and examined the crystal. It was worn, old looking, and thick. The pewter feet had a few dings and scratches.
“Where did the ball come from?” I asked Zelda.
The witch shook her head.
“We can’t hear her. I’ve been trying to communicate with her, but I can’t hear anything she says. Not even telepathically. It just comes to me in gibberish,” said Sassy.
“You read thoughts?”
She nodded.
“Does anyone know where the ball came from?” I asked the room.
No one did.
“It’s old. Really old.” I touched the ball and heard a thump. Then another.
Zelda looked up in terror as a bear fell from the sky of the ball. Then a giraffe. And a duck. She darted left and right to avoid a direct hit. Then she flipped me off, looking an awful lot like the ghost who did the same thing earlier that morning.
“Sorry,” I said. She stood stiffly as the bear hugged her.
“Don’t touch the ball, she hates that,” said Bob.
Roger said, “I did earlier and something yellow exploded all over her.”
I took a closer look at the goo covering Zelda’s shirt.
Sassy said, “I tried everything. I tried zapping the ball away. I tried zapping her out of the ball. I even tried zapping a new outfit for her after the explosion just to make her more comfortable, but nothing worked.”
“What the hell is zapping?” I asked.
“You know.” Sassy waved her hand and tiny sparks burst from her fingertips as her clothing changed from a low-cut blouse and pencil skirt to a ball gown. “Zapping.”
“Holy smokes,” Chance said. “Can you do that?” he asked me.
“If I could, we wouldn’t be here.”
The blonde witch looked confused. “You can’t do that?”
Parlor tricks, I thought. That’s what Birdie meant.
“No, I can’t,” I said, wishing I could. What a great way to order pizza. And a new car whenever one of mine exploded. That happened more often that you might think.
Both Mac and Sassy deflated a little, apparently losing faith in my ability, which irked me.
“Well, what can you do?” asked Sassy with a cluck of her tongue.
I reached for my pocket knife and with a flick of the wrist it glimmered into my sword. “I can kick your ass in eight styles that end in a vowel.” I grinned.
Roger said, “I can attest to that.”
Bob said, “Me too.”
“Fair enough.” Sassy switched back to the skirt and blouse.
I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. “Who would do this? Does she have enemies?” I asked.
“The honey badgers,” said Bob. “They hate her because she killed a bunch of them.”
Mac glared at him.
“It’s true.” Bob shuffled his flappy feet.
“Who are the honey badgers?” Chance asked.
“A football team,” said Mac.
“She killed members of a football team?” Chance pressed.
“Not literally,” Mac said, but his eyes averted.
I was more confused than ever now, but I really wanted to get the hell out of this house and that wasn’t going to happen until I figured out this mess. Birdie would find a way to send me back and I’d never get a mountain retreat vacation. “Look, I can’t help unless I know what kind of spell put her in there. If I knew that, I could reverse it.”
“Really?” asked Mac, hopefully.
“Really.”
Chance said, “Why don’t we just break the ball.” As if it was the most logical conclusion.
Mac growled and shot forward.
I aimed my sword at him. “Easy, killer. He was just trying to be helpful.”
Sassy said, “He’s just on edge. Worried about his puppies. Zelda’s preggers. With twins.”
“And puppies?” I asked.
Sassy shrugged. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, it’s not. In any language.”
What the hell was with these people?
Chance said, “Would you excuse us?” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the other room.
“Stace, honey, we have to get out of here. These people are crazy. And I don’t mean charming, kooky, Geraghty Girls crazy. I’m talking batshit bonkers. Like the call is coming from the house crazy. I think they’re dangerous. Mac looks like he could take down a bear with his teeth. And if you bring harm to his…mate…I think he might actually hurt you.”
It was sweet the way he worried about me, b
ut there were stipulations that came with my role as a Seeker. One of them was I couldn’t turn my back on a distressed witch.
“Chance, come on, we just got here. At least give me a chance to try to—" Thoughts swirled in my head then. The pregnancy, the animals, the goo in the ball. The thumps. Two thumps. Like two heartbeats.
“What did you just say?”
“I said, let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Before that.”
“What? The call is coming from the house?”
I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. I did a spell for my cousin’s unborn child and it sparked the baby’s magic. Maybe Zelda tried to do the same thing. Only she’s skilled in new magic, but she must have used old. Birdie said the two don’t mix well. Especially for someone who doesn’t practice the Old Ways.”
Chance shrugged. “If you say so.”
I rushed back into the room and went straight to the crystal for a closer look. “Mac, take a look at this.” I pointed. “The animals that fell from the sky. They’re stuffed animals. The goo on Zelda’s shirt. There’s a tiny string attached.”
He peered into the ball and Zelda nodded furiously. “Like it was from a balloon.” He looked closely at Zelda’s face and I could tell he wanted so badly to help her. Then he righted himself. “The nursery. Zelda just put up that new wallpaper in the nursery. Animals and balloons.”
I turned to face Zelda. “You were doing a spell for the twins, weren’t you?”
She gave two thumbs up.
Mac said, “Wait, you did this to yourself?”
Zelda shrugged.
“She must have used an old magic protection spell to ensure the babies’ safety and health. Because she’s pregnant and she performed it herself, she would have had to borrow motherly magic to do it. That would be the strongest. Is her mother in town?” I looked around the room for an answer.
Everyone fell silent and the crystal ball shook as Zelda beat her fists against it.
Bob said, “That’s sort of a sore subject. We don’t mention the mother figure.”
Magic and Mayhem: Witches Be Crazy (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Stacy Justice Magical Mysteries Book 0) Page 3