Cantrips: Volume #1: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  “Justin won’t let you,” Sarah sniffed. “I’ll tell him any teasing might upset the unborn child’s aura.”

  “Yeah, right. I don’t think being a Wiccan priest makes him brain dead. Plus he knows I’ll just pistol whip him if he tries to stop me. Fuck his aura up three ways to Sunday.”

  “Just don’t get his face,” Chloe protested. “You wouldn’t want to mar a work of art like that.”

  “Forget the face. It’s what he carries around in those pants that should be insured.”

  Sarah leaned over and shoved at Lauren. “Hey, no lusting after my husband. I’m not going to allow friend-verbal-adultery-by-proxy here.”

  “That doesn’t even make grammatical sense,” Gen protested.

  “You all understood well enough.”

  “If you’re going to marry a moveable feast, you can stop the snacking, but nothing’s going to stop the salivating.” Chloe’s nostrils flared and she took a dramatic inhale. “One whiff of the guy—he even smells fuckable…”

  There was a chorus of giggles, drowning out Sarah’s threats. Violet interrupted them as her fingers came in contact with a blanket so soft it felt like the down of angel wings. “Oh, my. Gen, this is beautiful.”

  The crocheted baby throw was a soft white. In the bottom right hand corner a satin and velvet motif of two teddy bears faced one another inside a large heart. There was a monogrammed “V” and “M” on the outside of each bear. A baby bear slept in the center of the heart. The card read: “Made with love, given with love.

  “Oh, Gen. Come here.” She gave the attractive brown-haired woman an enthusiastic hug as Marguerite looked on with quiet approval. “We’ll treasure this. And it’s perfect. I can wrap her up to keep her warm when we go sit on the dock at night.”

  Gen smiled. “I’m so glad you like it. My friend Maryde helped me with the embroidery work. And I thought it would bolster you to have something nice and appropriate, to brace you for Chloe’s gift.” She thrust it at Violet as Chloe made a noise of protest.

  “What I bought might not be as sentimental, but I think it’s perfectly appropriate for the occasion, and the recipient.”

  Chloe’s wrapping paper was a pattern of laughing cherub babies somersaulting through a blue sky with white clouds. Some were whimsically holding their toes. Inside the paper was a big case of diapers, on top of which had been taped a flatter, slim package.

  “Hey, everyone needs diapers, and on a cop’s salary…” Chloe was defending her choice, and Violet waved down the catcalls.

  “She’s absolutely right. On our salaries, I was considering just holding her over the dock edge until she was potty trained, but Mac pointed out that was likely against environmental regulations.”

  Violet opened the slim package and lifted out an infant pajama set. An object wrapped in it fell into her lap with a rattling sound, but when she lowered her gaze to it, they all burst out laughing.

  It was a baby rattle, but one shaped like a tiny flogger. The rattler was in the handle, and the straps made a slapping noise as they were jostled back and forth. When she raised her gaze to the pajama set, she found it was a pretty lacy thing with pink fabric and white lace cuffs. However, in the center of the shirt was a small female devil, one with long eye lashes and a tall pitchfork twined with flowers. Beneath the depiction, three words were printed:

  I like spankings.

  “I have completely incorrigible friends,” she decided, as the women giggled and passed the items around. Even Marguerite’s normally somber expression looked at pains to remain that way.

  “Here, these are safe. These are the ones Mac had us pick up from the station earlier this week.” Sarah directed her to the pile.

  The next package revealed a wonderful contraption, a pouch-like seat in which the baby could be placed, and the seat hung in a doorframe. Sarah opened the card. “It’s from Terry at the precinct. She said to tell you this is a Johnnie Jumper, and it’s great for when you're showering or somewhere else where you want the baby close, but don’t want to lug a portable crib.”

  “Maybe when you go to the club. You could take her to The Zone to provide early education.” Lauren lifted the tiny flogger rattler in thumb and forefinger and flicked it. “Okay, baby V, this is the proper way to strike Daddy’s butt to make it flex in just the right way—”

  “You are sick, demented, twisted. What is it about baby showers and bachelorette parties that can turn a group of otherwise mature women into overly hormonal teenagers?” Violet lunged for her awkwardly and a couple of the women caught her before she overbalanced, though they were all laughing so hard they almost upset the table. Violet secured the tiny flogger rattle, however, and collapsed back into her chair, trying to look at all of them sternly. “If she can hear you, she’ll come out needing therapy. No child wants to know anything about her father’s backside.”

  “Normally that’s true,” Lauren agreed. “But that’s one hell of a backside.”

  “One hell of an everything,” Marguerite offered thoughtfully, her mind obviously dwelling in pleasant areas. “Combine that with the fact he likes to be on his knees to a woman as often as possible, and he’s damn near irresistible.”

  Marguerite had seen Mac naked and on his knees quite often, since they did a great deal of their play over at Tyler and Marguerite’s. Because she knew Marguerite was completely absorbed in Tyler, it didn’t bother her, but Violet managed a glare for form’s sake.

  “On his knees only to this particular pregnant woman, thank you very much. Does Tyler know you have this obsession with my husband?”

  “No obsession.” Marguerite tilted her head, the blue eyes glinting. “Just happy to work him out if you’re too tired to keep him in proper training. Least I could do, Mommy.”

  “I’m getting my gun,” Violet decided.

  “No, no—not until you see what she and Tyler gave you.” Chloe pushed it at her.

  “You realize that biblical adultery includes thinking about it, right?” But Violet settled back, accepting the next gift.

  “Well then, every girl who’s been exposed to that husband of yours is going straight to hell,” Sarah observed.

  “I think it’s a medical condition,” Lauren said practically. “God won’t hold a medical condition against you, else He or She wouldn’t have created a man that fine. Though you’re a fine one to talk, Sarah. When Justin saunters across the street to pick up his morning paper, you probably get ten traffic accidents in that one-stoplight town of yours.”

  “Justin does not saunter,” Sarah defended.

  “Oh, he sooo saunters. That sexy ooze of motion.” Chloe got up and demonstrated, to a new wave of giggles and shouts of laughter. “Can you imagine coming into his shop? He says, ‘What may I do for you today, ma’am?’ and three illegal acts run through the head of every customer, whether she’s eighteen or eighty.”

  Violet elbowed her exasperated friend. “Sarah took care of that. She’s put up a sign outside that says ‘Beware: Proprietor guarded by cop wife, aka woman with gun.’”

  The girls cackled again while Lauren screwed up her face. “Ooze of motion? That makes me think of pustules. Open the gift, Violet. Christ, and we didn’t even bring alcohol. Think how out of control we’d be if we had.”

  “They’d probably be raiding Mac’s underwear drawer,” Violet responded dryly.

  “That’s a thought,” Chloe crowed, but Gen yanked her back down to the sofa.

  “Behave,” the woman reproved, with a smile playing around her mouth.

  “You’re assuming he wears any,” Violet said. While their banter continued, she turned her attention to the tastefully wrapped small box. The wrapping paper was a series of ducks marching back and forth in haphazard patterns, complimented by a soft blue bow. She wasn’t surprised by the endearing packaging. Marguerite’s tea shop regularly hosted little girls’ tea parties. Though Marguerite couldn’t have children, she enjoyed being with them. Violet removed the wrapper, revealing a ve
lvet pink box inside. She cracked it open.

  “Oh my…”

  It was two silver bracelets. Each bracelet looked like a pair of overlapping angel wings, the feathers detailed out perfectly.

  “There’s an inscription,” Marguerite put in, as the women craned their necks to look into the box.

  Violet tilted the bracelets. Inside the band of one, she read “My daddy”. The other one read “My husband.”

  It reminded her that when she’d met Mac, he’d worn a pair of slave bracelets given to him by his first Mistress, Lisette. Even after he and Lisette had amicably parted ways, he wore them at the clubs to designate his submissive status, because nothing else about Mac Nighthorse suggested he played that side of the field. But Violet hadn’t needed the bracelets to know. The first time she’d touched him, she’d known, because that essential part of him, underneath the tough cop exterior, had called to her nature as a Mistress. She’d loved every minute of removing his shields and getting him to surrender to her fully.

  He’d put Lisette’s bracelets away out of respect for his new Mistress, so Marguerite understood the significance of providing her a replacement set, tailored to their specific relationship.

  “We had Mac come by the house one day for a measurement, so they should fit his wrists perfectly, and won’t interfere with the bracelet you gave him,” Marguerite added.

  “These are absolutely beautiful, Marguerite.” Violet blinked. Damn mommy hormones. Despite her diminutive size, she was known as the most intimidating state trooper in her division, but now she was in danger of becoming a puddle. If she had any ability to move with grace instead of like a bowling ball knocking over pins, she would have hugged the woman. Of course, Marguerite wasn’t much on hugging and touching, so Violet’s lack of mobility was probably a relief to the woman. Which was why it was a shock when Marguerite came to her. Sliding her cool arms around Violet’s back, Marguerite gave her a warm hug and a press of lips against her cheek.

  “Now you can make those other ones disappear,” she murmured in Violet’s ear, winning a smile. While Lisette was a friend to both, they understood the possessiveness of being a Mistress. Lisette would have understood it as well as either one of them.

  “This is just so marvelous.” Violet shook her head. “Where did you get them?”

  “Another one of Tyler’s friends.” Marguerite took her seat and shot a smile at Lauren. “You know how he likes to patronize the arts. Her name is Laura, and she’s an exceptional silversmith and artist. But I think it’s time to open Sarah and Justin’s. I’m sure they found something even more wonderful.”

  “You’re just sucking up, because we haven’t raked your husband over the coals yet,” Sarah threatened, but handed Violet her package, a shoebox-sized package. This one had a silver wrapping marked with tiny mice dressed as babies. They held rattles and displayed varying comical expressions, from bawling displeasure to fist-chewing contentment.

  “I know you didn’t wrap this, because the corners are perfectly overlapped. It’s a good thing your husband runs an erotic shop that specializes in wedding gifts.”

  “Justin only helped me wrap it,” Sarah sniffed.

  “Correction, she tried to wrap it, and he was so horrified he rewrapped it,” Lauren pointed out. “Weren’t we going to talk about Marguerite’s husband?”

  “Absolutely…” Chloe sighed. “I work in paradise. I get to see him every day.”

  “You seduce him into the tea room with free dessert. If he gets a weight problem, I’m taking it out of your ass,” Marguerite noted darkly. “And the dessert out of your paycheck.”

  “It’s totally worth it.” Chloe slid an arm around Marguerite’s calf, since she was back to sitting on the floor next to her crossed legs, and squeezed with affection. “The least you could do is leave your door cracked in the morning when you spend the night above the shop, so I can see him naked.”

  “Just consider it an employee benefit,” Gen suggested.

  “I’ll replace your healthcare with it, since you obviously don’t value that perk,” Marguerite rejoined sweetly.

  “Since I’m the pregnant one,” Violet interjected, “and therefore inviolate, I can get away with saying it. After Mac, Tyler is the finest man that has ever been crafted. If only he didn’t have a head like a rock…”

  “Hey, as long as other parts are just as hard—” Chloe spluttered as Gen put a hand over her mouth and Marguerite gave her a fond swat on the head. Her relaxed expression said she had no problems with the admiration, however. As Violet knew from being close friends with Tyler, he had an unexaggerated universal appeal to any straight woman. Also, as one of the most exceptional Dominants she’d ever met, he had an uncanny way of winning over any submissive he chose. But there was only one woman he’d wanted to keep, and it was the woman who was a match for him in all ways. Violet knew that when The Zone—the fetish club at which many in this room had memberships—indicated that a public room was going to be used by Mistress Marguerite or Master Tyler—or thank the gods, both—the bartenders stocked up, expecting a standing-room-only crowd.

  When she opened Sarah and Justin’s gift, she found a little wooden rack of police issue revolvers. Smaller than the real thing, and made of molded plastic, like toys. The rack bore the badge number Violet wore, the other side showing Mac’s detective shield.

  “They’re containers,” Chloe realized, crouching by the table. “Oh, how cool. This one holds baby oil, this one lotion, this one”—she lifted it, squinted at the end— “freaking cool. This one has a sifter. It’s for baby powder.” She pointed to the labels on the rack. “And look, it says ‘to protect, serve and freshen.’”

  “You’re insane.” Violet looped an arm around Sarah and squeezed. “Now I’m sure you picked this one out.”

  “Well, Justin knew it should be a gift that reflected both of us. His creativity and my special handcuff-you-if-I-don’t-get-my-way charm.” Sarah smiled. “Seriously, we found it in this catalog of police-related gifts, and thought it would be perfect. Though we worried it might feel strange to point even a toy gun at your child.”

  “I don’t know about that. When she’s going through the terrible twos, it might relieve some frustration.” Violet laughed. “Stop that tantrum now, or I’ll powder you.”

  The final gift was the largest. As her friends positioned it on the floor and pulled the paper away, a foolish grin wreathed Violet’s face. It was a collective gift from the whole of her division. An enormous basket, filled with every conceivable item the baby might need. Baby wipes, thermometers, spoons, bowls, bibs, extra socks…it might take days to go through it all.

  “The card is from Crystal, at the dispatch desk,” Sarah read. “She says some of the things might not seem as practical as others, because Hank, Rick and a couple other of the guys came shopping with her. She said, ‘it was worse than taking two toddlers to a candy store’. Apparently they had differing ideas as to what a baby might need.”

  “No, it’s perfect. Look at these ribbons.” Violet oohed over a brace of baby hair bows and lace-edged socks. “It will be fun figuring out which ones Hank picked out and which ones Crystal did.”

  “I think he went because he has the hots for Crystal, and it’s the first time in ten years he’s been able to get that dispatch desk out from in between them,” Sarah pointed out. “He probably had a diabolical plan to ravish her in a big pile of stuffed animals at Babies R Us.”

  “Good luck on that. I think she had her uniform made out of body armor and surgically adhered to her skin years ago.” Violet chuckled. “But then again, we use Hank as a blood hound when the dog’s on vacation. He’s hard to shake off the scent.”

  As the women cleaned up the wrapping paper and Gen offered to make up some coffee, Chloe turned on the television to find a suitable music station on cable. Now that the gift giving was done, Violet remembered she’d intended to take care of some special business today. She met Marguerite’s gaze and, in silent unders
tanding, the woman came to help her up, with Sarah’s assistance. “Sarah, I need to talk to Marguerite a couple minutes, okay? Can you keep everyone entertained while we’re on the docks?”

  “Sure,” Sarah said, but before she could turn away, Violet’s brow furrowed and she swung toward the television.

  “Chloe, stop.” The sharp command made the girl freeze before she could turn the channel. “Rewind that.”

  Sarah turned with her as Chloe scrolled back on the news program she’d been bypassing.

  “…drug deal in the downtown area has been broken up, but not without cost to local police. There are two bodies on scene and, at this time, we are waiting to find out who the casualties are and what has happened…”

  Violet was not a fainter. She’d stood toe to toe with perps when they took a shot at her, and hadn’t lost her cool. Which was why the black rush covering her eyes, making her sway on her feet, had to be happening to someone else. This was ridiculous. It was preliminary information only. It wasn’t him, no matter that the tears welling up in her eyes, the sobs choking her throat, told her it was. Oh God, oh God…not again, I can’t lose him again…

  There were gasps and sounds of women scrambling, something knocked over. She was caught in someone’s arms. Marguerite’s she realized, Sarah a close second. As they eased her down to the couch, Lauren’s voice was there, calm, professional, the doctor staying collected in crisis. She was having everyone else move back, and sending Chloe for a cool washcloth. But it was Sarah’s voice that brought things into focus.

  “Dammit, Violet, stop being such a damned girl. Wake up, snap out of it.”

  She blinked back the black haze, which turned to gray. Focusing on the worried faces around her, she saw all were standing back as instructed except Sarah, admonishing her, and Marguerite, whose hand Violet had retained in a death grip. Lauren was taking the wet washcloth from Chloe to lay it on her forehead. “Sarah…” Violet turned her gaze to her. “I’m sorry, but…oh, God…”