The Contestant Flies Off the Handle

by Heather Horrocks

  When she caught Isaac’s gaze, she smiled, “It’s the Omphalos, or navel of the world. That center used to be Delphi, but now—” She shrugged and it seemed a sad gesture. “Now it is here in Moonchuckle Bay.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Isaac said, and it was.

  “Do you want a reading?” she asked unexpectedly.

  At her words, his father turned his head sharply and gave a tiny shake of his head.

  Isaac said, “I am honored, but I cannot accept such a gift from you.”

  “Many men have killed for one of my readings.” In that instant, she looked menacing as well as powerful and beautiful. Her eyes were much older than her face, wise and knowing.

  His father said, “And many more have wished they had refused the honor, my lady.”

  She shrugged and smiled. “We will have no regrets between us.” She removed her hand from the stone.

  When their business was done, the lizard appeared between the columns, as if by magic.

  They said their polite goodbyes and began to follow the lizard in livery from the room.

  “Wait!” the Oracle said, and they turned back to her.

  She walked toward them, graceful and elegant and oh-so-Grecian. When she reached them, she raised a finger to Isaac’s cheek again. “You will be asked to help with the pageant. My advice is that you accept.”

  What an odd thing—

  “I know,” she said, as though she had read his mind. “It is important that you oversee the pageant’s events and the contestants.”

  “They already have everyone they need. It’s starting day after tomorrow,” his father said.

  She shrugged. “And yet the opportunity will come.” The beauty touched the tip of her finger to Isaac’s nose and bopped it lightly. “You will be wise to say yes.”

  “I will make sure he accepts, Pythia,” his father said.

  “Good.” She looked at Isaac, assessing him for a moment. “Do not turn it down.”

  Isaac nodded, confused as to why he’d be asked to do anything at all with the pageant. It was well-organized and well-run — and attorneys were not usually in demand at the actual event. “I will not.” And he felt the power of his promise lock in to her magic.

  “I know you will not.” She motioned toward the lizard. “Good day, gentlemen.”

  Back outside, Isaac looked at his father. “What was that about?”

  “I think the Oracle just gave you a brief reading, whether you wanted her to or not.”

  “Let’s hope I don’t regret it.”

  As he regretted the Oracle’s reminder of his lifemate. Isaac didn’t even know where she was. He wished he did. He’d let her go so she could finish growing up — and then she’d disappeared.

  The heartache of losing his lifemate was so deep that he’d paid Chicory and her mother’s coven to create a potion to dull his emotional pain. They called it Happy Be, and when he drank it, he was. His brothers told him it had changed him, and they wanted their brother back. But he couldn’t be a vampire with a lifemate buzz and no lifemate. They just didn’t understand.

  Besides, dulling his emotions made him a better attorney, more logical and analytical.

  Back at the law firm, in his office, he closed the door.

  He hadn’t taken his potion yet today, and after just the mere mention of Cara, he was struggling.

  He walked to the bookshelf and picked up the little ship-on-a-stick he’d bought on the cruise ship. He’d bought one for himself and another for Cara — and he remembered the sizzling kiss they’d shared afterward on the deck.

  The little ship was a visual reminder to take his potion every day.

  Reluctantly, he pulled the flask from his desk drawer and took a sip of the potion inside. It slid down his throat and he knew that within five minutes the emotional pain would fade until he could function normally again. During that five minutes, he recalled his regrets over losing her.

  And then, suddenly, he didn’t really care anymore.

  He sat at his desk and got to work.

  An hour later, Peggy patched through a call from the pageant coordinator, who asked him if he’d help out. Isaac felt the Oracle’s power again, and so he said, simply, “Of course I’ll help.”

  And then he hung up and stared at the phone, bemused. What had just happened?

  Because of the potion, he wasn’t too worried about it — or about the fact that the Oracle really had given him a no-strings-attached reading at no cost, and she never did that.

  Meow

  CARA BLINKED AS SHE STRUGGLED to regain her equilibrium. The pageant-approved paranormal SUV, the newest model of the Ford Hexplorer, had just transported her to the parking lot of the Wildwood Hotel and she craned her neck, staring up at the large, elegant building.

  The teleporting taxi, sent by 3D Taxi, was known to be very expensive; apparently the pageant officials were sparing no cost for the contestants.

  The service had picked up Cara and her cat plus two other ladies — a werecat and a genie — at the Salt Lake City Airport, and promptly winked out of sight of humans. Five seconds later, they were here.

  She felt sort of tingly, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The three of them climbed out and stretched. Though the trip had been short, there was a residual feeling that they’d traveled a long distance.

  The driver — a werewolf, she thought — was already at the back of the vehicle, pulling luggage out of the boot. No, she needed to remember what the Americans called it. Trunk, that was it. And she’d definitely try to remember to ask for the bathroom and not the jacks.

  Her bag on wheels was there, and she checked to be sure that her favorite cauldron was still hanging from it. It was her smaller cauldron, to be sure, but she never left home without it or her smaller bag of herbs, crystals, and her grimoire, which held her favorite magical recipes and spells.

  Shadow looked up at her after stretching his front legs, then his back legs. “Meow.” That made me feel weird.

  “I know,” she said, reaching down to pick him up. He purred in her arms. “It did to me, too.”

  The werecat — Mariana Lupei from Romania, which used to be Transylvania — said, in a friendly tone, “What’s your cat’s name?”

  “Shadow.”

  The genie joined them. Liling Djackson nodded. “He’s pretty.”

  “Meow.” She wouldn’t think so if she saw me in my other form.

  “He likes to think of himself as tough, not pretty.”

  “Understood,” the werecat said. “He’s another hunter, even if he’s small.”

  Everyone here at the Wildwood was a paranormal, so no one found it strange that she was having a conversation with her cat.

  The genie said, “I can hardly wait until we visit the unicorn ranch tomorrow.”

  Shadow looked up. “Meow?” Unicorns?

  Cara smiled down at him. “No hunting of unicorns.”

  Shadow sneezed and, to Cara’s surprise, so did the werecat. The woman shrugged. “Hunter instincts.”

  They walked up to the entrance, followed by their levitating luggage, which was being wrangled by the werewolf driver.

  Inside, the cool air felt good against her skin. There was a reception desk, and a banner hung overhead announcing: Welcome, Miss Paranormal Universe Contestants!

  Paranormal ladies milled about, maybe twenty of the fifty total who were allowed to compete. Even though the pageant was held every decade, each family could only enter someone every fifty years, and there was an initial approval process to cull it back to fifty for the actual pageant to keep it manageable.

  Most of the contestants here were pretty enough to make Cara feel like she was underdressed — only, in this case, it was her face that was underdressed.

  A semitransparent woman cleared her throat and magically projected her voice. “All right, ladies. I’m Fern the Ghost and I am responsible for making sure you go where you’re supposed to go and that you’re where you’re supposed to be. Make sure you fol
low all of my instructions immediately and explicitly. I’m going to call out names and introduce you to your roommates.”

  And then Cara felt it — her runestone! It was close. She closed her eyes and sighed as she felt the yearning of the stone to be held and her own yearning to hold it. It must be on this floor somewhere, and she hoped she couldn’t feel it in her room, or this trip would be torture.

  Thirty minutes later, Cara and five other women were settled in their suite on the seventh floor — which was high enough she couldn’t feel her stone, though just knowing it was down there was still unnerving.

  There was a common living room area and a small dining area with a table and chairs, and three adjoining bedrooms, each with two queen beds.

  She was sharing a bedroom with the werecat from Romania, Mariana Lupei. Shadow had let it be known that he was the alpha cat, and Mariana had smilingly agreed, which made Cara like her immediately. The werecat didn’t know that Shadow actually could be the alpha in his black leopard form, so she was humoring him.

  After unpacking her luggage and placing it, along with her cauldron, in her closet, Cara joined the others in the main room.

  Rooming together in the second bedroom were a vampire and ghost, and in the third was another witch and a sleeping beauty who had trouble staying awake. Her eyes were heavy lidded even now, in the middle of the day.

  “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, y’all.” Riley Garcia, the Texas vampire, had a delightful drawl.

  Liling Djackson, the genie from China, bowed her head. “I, also.”

  Belinda Benson — the sleeping beauty — roused herself to say, “Hello.”

  The other witch, Augusta Quigley, was from London. “I hope one of us can win this pageant. That would be so cool.” She preened and looked at herself in the reflection from her mug. It was obvious she was hoping it was she who won, but then again, that was what they were all there for. Nobody was competing for second place.

  “Wait a minute.” Augusta looked at Cara. “You’re an Irish O’Sullivan?”

  Cara nodded.

  “Wow. I’ve seen pictures of your sisters.”

  Cara raised an eyebrow. “You have?”

  “They’re beautiful.” Augusta didn’t say the rest of her thoughts — that Cara wasn’t beautiful, but Cara knew it was there.

  She sighed. She’d known she wasn’t going to win. Her five roommates were all prettier than she was — and that left another bunch of contestants who were also prettier. What had her parents been thinking to send her? Mary should be here, or Sophie, or Ruby. Any of them.

  All this hassle, plus the worry about running into Isaac Murphy while she was in town, was already playing on her nerves.

  A thought occurred to her. Maybe, since he’d lied about feeling the lifemate buzz from her, he’d found another gullible woman. Maybe he’d even found his real lifemate and was married now.

  That thought should have comforted her — but it didn’t.

  Cara was impressed by — and a little afraid of — Fern the Ghost, who was a fearsome taskmaster. The transparent tyrant bossed the women to and fro, overseeing their schedules and generally keeping them in line. She’d herded them into bed the night before, and rallied them this morning for breakfast, then hustled them to the first rehearsal, where they were taught the first steps of the big musical number — complete with magical fireworks — they’d be performing.

  Then, it was time for a shower and getting dressed up to meet their sponsors.

  Each contestant was having lunch with their own kind. The witches would be lunching with the local coven at their newly opened Moonchuckle Bay eatery, The Bubbling Cauldron, where they served specialty healing soups. She’d be joining the three other witch contestants — Miss Salem, Miss London, and Miss New Orleans, a voodoo witch.

  After checking herself in the mirror, Cara tucked her wand into her purse. Never leave home without it. Again, she was not as powerful without her runestone, but she was not without magic.

  The other witches joined her in the noisy lobby of the Wildwood Hotel. The other contestants milled around and women’s voices and laughter filled the place. Fern the Ghost called out, her voice piercing the noise. “It’s time to meet your sponsors, so pay attention.” As silence descended, the ghost continued, “The cars are outside waiting. All vampires go directly to the reception desk to meet your driver. All weres to the pool side. All witches to the back wall. The gargoyle, genie, and sleeping beauty head to the hotel entrance.”

  As Fern the Ghost continued to call out species, Cara moved toward the back wall.

  There she found the display case that held the pageant treasures — and her stone!

  There, right in front of her, was the beautiful emerald that completed her magic. She reached a hand to touch the case. When her fingers were just an inch from the glass, a voice said, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. An alarm will go off.”

  “Oh, right.” She snatched her hand back and turned to find a werewolf frowning at her from behind the counter. “They’re just so pretty.”

  “That they are,” he acknowledged.

  Before she could say more, the three other witches joined her and a man in a uniform greeted them. “Please follow me and I’ll take you to the limousine.”

  A limo? They were to be transported in style. She wondered if that was the coven’s doing or the pageant’s.

  The drive was quiet as they rode; each of them was trying to see the town. The ride was just a few blocks. They went past the parking lot by the park, and then up a wide alley with extra parking for the Blue Moon Sports Bar, The Bubbling Cauldron, Cake and Scream, and the Monster Mash dance hall.

  The limo parked behind The Bubbling Cauldron. Cara exchanged glances with the other contestants, and then the driver opened the door.

  He led them to the back door of the restaurant and knocked.

  A moment later, a woman opened the door and motioned them inside. She wore a colorful skirt and white blouse, her brunette hair pulled back into a messy bun. “Please come in.”

  Cara followed the others inside. She caught a glimpse of a large dining room filled with customers, but the woman led them to a smaller, banquet-type room.

  The three witches seated around the table nodded, but didn’t stand. Cara and her companions chose other empty chairs and sat.

  The woman who’d led them in looked around the room and smiled, making eye contact with the new witches. “I’m Marigold Connolly, head of the Moonchuckle Bay Coven. First, I will have my coven members introduce themselves to you, and then you can each tell us a little bit about yourselves.”

  Marigold motioned toward the witch on the end, and the woman stood. She wore what looked like a colorful gypsy skirt and blouse — and she looked like Marigold’s younger sister. “I am Chicory Connolly, daughter of Marigold Connolly.”

  Daughter, then. That shouldn’t have surprised Cara. Her Irish coven wasn’t the only one that knew the secret to health and longevity, then.

  After Chicory sat, a petite woman whom Cara would describe as “cute” rose. She had maroon-colored hair and ... were those wings on her back? “I am Dixie Murphy, and I am an honorary member of the coven.”

  Marigold added, “Dixie is a pixie, and a princess of our local Garden Pixie Court. She has recently come into her magic and we are helping her learn to use it.”

  Dixie sat down and a third woman rose. “I’m Sugar Hamilton of the Grand Junction Hamilton Coven. I’m a kitchen witch.”

  Cara had heard of the Hamilton coven. They were powerful, as was the Moonchuckle Bay coven.

  Sitting, Marigold said, “Sugar has provided us with the desserts you’ll be having later. She’s also the new pastry chef at Elvis Sightings, a newly opened restaurant in town. I can guarantee that you’ve never tasted better sweets than Sugar’s.”

  The witches around the table looked expectantly at them, and Marigold motioned to Cara. “And you are...?”

  Cara stood up straigh
t and gave her official title. “I am Cara O’Sullivan of the Ireland O’Sullivan Coven. My family has lived in Ireland for a donkey’s years. I was born there twenty-four years ago and trained by my nana and parents.” She didn’t mention the runestones.

  Marigold’s smile deepened and then, unexpectedly, she pulled Cara into a hug.

  Cara hugged back, breathing in deeply. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed that hug until she found herself in Marigold’s embrace.

  Marigold motioned to a chair between Chicory and Dixie.

  Marigold pulled back, and turned to the petite blonde-haired witch, who said, “I’m Augusta Quigley of the London Quigley Coven.”

  Marigold took her hand, and said, “I am so glad to meet you, Augusta.”

  She didn’t hug Augusta, but moved on to the third witch contestant, a lovely woman with skin the color of dark chocolate, long ebony hair, and a happy, gleaming smile. “Antoinette Fontaine of the New Orleans Fontaine Voodoo Coven. My family came from Haiti. I was born in New Orleans and trained by my nana.”

  And then the fourth, a woman who reminded Cara of a young Emma Thompson, with a complexion that was as pale as her own. She wore all black, and it actually looked flattering on her. Her straight, honey-blonde hair was shot through with red highlights that looked natural and was swept back from her forehead and face. Her sparkling green eyes were intelligent.

  “Katherine Deakin of the Salem Deakin Coven. I sailed from England in 1623 on a ship of the Dorchester Company, along with thirty-one others. Later we moved the settlement and called it Naumkeag, and then Cape Ann — but then the name was changed to Salem, which came from the Hebrew word for peace. However, there was no peace during the Salem Witch Trials, which I survived.” And that meant that Katherine was an ancient, powerful witch, though she looked barely over twenty.

  The Witch Trials. Just the phrase sent a shiver up Cara’s spine. There’d been similar goings-on in Ireland several centuries ago. It was why all witches hid their powers. That was one perk that made this trip refreshing; they could all be themselves without worrying.