MagicalMistakes

by Victoria Davies

  And the black smoke curling at his ankles.

  Ice flowed through her veins as the fumes surrounded the startled man. Her heartbeat kicked up another notch but this time, not from triumph. The spell she’d cast shouldn’t be reacting in such a physical way. Ciar was supposed to look at her with adoration, not be swallowed by inky dark fumes.

  “Oh crap,” she whispered as she watched the cloud swallow him.

  Bursting from the doorway, Mikayla raced for the swirling mass of black smoke, trying to think of a rhyme to break the spell. Whatever had a hold of him, it wasn’t the magic she’d called.

  Or thought she’d called.

  Words and incantations swirled in her brain as she tried to act, but panic made it impossible to string the correct order of the spell together. There must be a way to stop it. Something to undo her foolish mistake.

  But before any words could leave her lips, the smoke parted and rolled away.

  “Oh my god,” she breathed, stumbling to a halt. “I am so dead.”

  Chapter Two

  “Mikayla?” Wyn’s voice called out from behind her. Mikayla turned to see her sister poke her head through the side door before turning to call back inside, “Tamsyn, she headed this way.” Wyn stepped out into the alley. “What are you doing out here, little sis?”

  “We were looking for you,” Tamsyn added as she left the bar.

  Together they strode to Mikayla’s frozen side.

  “What the hell is that?” Wyn asked when she stopped beside her sister.

  “That,” Mikayla croaked, pointing toward the ground, “is Ciar.”

  The three sisters looked down in horror at the creature sitting by their feet.

  “Ciar?” Tamsyn whispered.

  “I tried a spell and…”

  “That’s the demon who strikes terror into the hearts of his enemies?” Wyn demanded.

  “I don’t think terror is an emotion he’ll be invoking anytime soon,” Mikayla replied. “At least not until we reverse this and he destroys me.”

  At their feet, a small bundle of white fluff yelped in annoyance.

  “Is it what I think it is?” Wyn asked.

  “Looks like a toy poodle,” Tamsyn replied.

  A grin split Wyn’s face. “I have to say, for such a big guy he makes a rather adorable dog.”

  “So, so dead,” Mikayla muttered to herself.

  Tamsyn crouched down to get a better view of the dog before them. “Well, not necessarily. Do you think he understands what’s happening?”

  “Ciar?” Wyn called out. “If you can understand us bark. Or better yet, shake a paw. Who’s a good puppy?”

  Mikayla whacked her irreverent sister over the head. “Lay off.”

  The poodle stared up at them with the same unchanging, adorable expression.

  “Come on, Ciar. Give us a woof or something,” Tamsyn encouraged.

  The dog wagged its little tail.

  “Ciar may have made an intelligent man, but in dog form I think he’s riding the short bus,” Wyn said.

  “She probably transfigured him into a real poodle. Hopefully, Ciar’s consciousness is firmly on hold for the time being.”

  “Is that possible?” Mikayla asked.

  “You’re the one who cast the spell. What did you say?” Tamsyn demanded.

  “Nothing about him turning into a dog.”

  Rising, Wyn faced her sister. Her smile slipped from her lips as her eyes grew serious. “What exactly were your words?”

  “Uh…” Mikayla hesitated. “It was only a little rhyme. It just popped into my head but I think there was something about changing his view of me…”

  “You cast a spell without testing it first? Or remembering the incantation?” The horror in Tamsyn’s expression was hard to face.

  “Mikayla,” Wyn said, looking a bit green herself. “You know there’s a reason witches never cast spells on Halloween. The air is already heavy with magic tonight. Anything we do is amplified a hundredfold. Even the simplest incantation can go wrong on a night like this. I might be the queen of mistakes, but this one really takes the cake.”

  “I know, I know. I just…” Mikayla sighed. “I wanted him to really see me. Just once. I thought maybe tonight was my chance. The incantation sort of…slipped out.”

  “Apparently,” Tamsyn replied, glancing down at the poodle. She dragged a hand through her hair. “Okay, let’s just get him home and reverse this.”

  “All I wanted was to get a drink to celebrate Halloween.” Wyn sighed. “Now we have to figure out how to avoid bloody demon vengeance. Thanks, little sis.”

  Mikayla ignored her, crouching down beside the dog.

  “Ciar?” she whispered, both hoping and fearing he’d respond. But the dog did nothing to acknowledge he understood her. Instead he planted himself on the ground and looked up at her, his tiny pink tongue lolling from his mouth.

  Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. What a mess she’d made. Turning her crush into a dog. And not just any dog, no, she had to change him into a tiny, adorable fluff ball. There was no way he’d ever forgive her for this.

  The dog trotted to her side, sniffing her hand. Opening her eyes, she watched the animal try to gain her attention.

  “I’m so sorry,” she told him, her voice breaking.

  Tamsyn and Wyn stopped their arguing, looking down at her.

  “Honey,” Tamsyn said, kneeling by her side. “We’ll fix it.”

  “I should have never resorted to magic,” Mikayla replied. “This is not the witch I want to be.”

  “Everyone goes a little mad when they care about someone,” Wyn told her, shrugging. “Remember when Tam wrote that dreadful poetry for her crush in twelfth grade?”

  Tamsyn hissed at her younger sister.

  “That didn’t hurt anyone,” Mikayla replied. “This crosses every line.”

  By her side, the dog poked her hand with his small wet nose. Mikayla stroked his head, scratching behind his ear when he wiggled closer.

  “Come on,” Tamsyn encouraged. “Let’s get him home before anyone notices he’s gone. We can fix this.”

  Wyn reached out to scoop up the dog but Mikayla brushed her hand away.

  “Please don’t bite me,” she said to the dog. “Even if I deserve it.”

  Carefully she picked him up, cuddling Ciar in her arms. The poodle yipped at her before he settled into a more comfortable position.

  “Come on, Mikayla. Let’s go home,” Wyn said.

  Together, three witches and a poodle, strode from the deserted alley.

  * * * * *

  Ciar stared up at the unfamiliar kitchen. Everything was alarmingly large, not to mention walking on four feet instead of two had proved more difficult than anticipated. Twice he’d stumbled into one of the various spell books the sisters had tossed on the table.

  Taking a careful step forward, he edged to the side of the table and looked down. Though he was relatively sure he could make the leap, the distance to the floor seemed like a bigger risk than was warranted. Besides, he needed these cursed women to fix him.

  A growl built in his throat but he fought the desire to release it. He couldn’t do anything to alert the trio that he knew precisely what was going on. The only advantage he had in this horrific situation was the fact they spoke freely before him, thinking him none the wiser. Ciar could easily imagine what would happen if they knew he was on to them. They’d stuff him in a cage and wash his memories away. Damned witches. It was why he avoided their kind. They were never to be trusted. He let his eyes stray back to the one who had caused all the trouble. Mikayla sat at the table, head in her hands. He tried not to feel sorry for the woman who had bespelled him. Even enraged as he was, he couldn’t ignore the silent pain rolling off her in waves.

  “Should we buy him kibble or something?” Wyn asked.

  Ciar bared his teeth at the thought.

  “Surely we can undo this before it gets to that point,” Tamsyn replied. “I don’t par
ticularly enjoy the thought of house training a demon poodle.”

  “He’s going to rip me to shreds,” Mikayla groaned, banging her head against the wooden table.

  Ciar eyed the guilt-stricken woman. If he had the little magic worker at his mercy he could think of far more pleasurable ways of exacting his vengeance.

  “Why is nothing working?” Tamsyn mused, flipping through a book.

  Mikayla banged her head against the table again.

  “Stop that,” Wyn said, swatting her. “We need your brain in working order. Tell us exactly what spell you used.”

  “It was simple,” she groaned. “A sentence or two at the most. I was angry at the way he’d treated me and I just…snapped.”

  “Wait, what?” Wyn demanded. “What did he do to you?”

  Ciar padded around the table, walking off his agitation. He knew he’d hurt her. She’d stood in his arms, looking up at him with guileless eyes that begged him to do all the wicked things he craved. Instead of taking her up on her offer, he’d walked away. Perhaps the first noble act of his life. He’d put her safety above his lusts and where had it gotten him?

  Cursed.

  Last time he ever tried to do a good deed.

  “Nothing deserving of a fate like this,” Mikayla replied. “He simply made it clear I will never be a woman he wants.”

  If only, Ciar thought with a mental snort. Mikayla could tempt a saint. Something he most assuredly was not. But he knew better than to yield to the lure she offered. Last time he had cared for a woman he’d ended up exiled and alone in the mortal world. No way was he risking such affection again.

  “The man has no taste,” Wyn sniffed.

  Mikayla rolled her eyes.

  “Focus,” Tamsyn said, striding over to the table. “Mikayla, you said something about him changing his view of you in your spell, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I bet that’s where the transfiguration came in,” Wyn cut in, frowning. “I mean, physically, his view has definitely changed. You’ve got to be a freakish giant to him now.”

  “Thanks, Wyn. So helpful,” Mikayla retorted.

  “And it would explain why the anti-transfiguration spell was a bust,” Tamsyn said. “Technically, you didn’t cast a purely transfiguration spell. There must have been another part to it. A condition on Ciar regaining his true form.”

  “That I can’t remember.”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, sis, this is a spectacular mess,” Wyn said with a sigh. “I’d be proud if I wasn’t so worried.”

  Though Ciar might personally agree, he still fought the urge to bite Wyn. Couldn’t she see her sister was already berating herself as much as was humanly possible? They didn’t need to lay the guilt on any thicker.

  “Enough, Wyn,” Tamsyn said, speaking the words Ciar couldn’t. “Focus on the matter at hand.”

  Sighing, Ciar lay down on the table and waited for the brush of their magic. Here’s hoping one of the damned incantations works.

  * * * * *

  “No more rhymes. I can’t take it,” Wyn groaned, sprawling across her chair. “I’ve never respected Dr. Seuss more.”

  “Who accidentally transfigured the kettle into a flowerpot? Because I’d love a cup of tea,” Tamsyn replied.

  “It was one stupid impulsive moment of weakness,” Mikayla muttered. “And now the man of my dreams has the IQ of a dishrag and fits in my purse.”

  The dog lifted his head and looked at her questioningly. Mikayla reached out to stroke his fur. Over the course of the night it had become a familiar gesture.

  “Look, there’s nothing more we can try tonight. Halloween is still interfering with our magic. We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” Tamsyn decided.

  “What do we do with him?” Wyn asked, pointing toward Ciar. “Puppy pound?”

  “I’ll take him,” Mikayla cut in. “I mean, the least I can do is make him comfortable.”

  “Not quite how you pictured your first night with demon boy, eh?” Wyn asked, wiggling her eyebrows. Tamsyn whacked her over the head as she walked by.

  “Come on, Ciar,” Mikayla said, holding out her hands to the dog.

  The poodle obediently trotted into her waiting arms and buried his head against her breasts.

  “See you guys in the morning,” Mikayla said as she walked from the room.

  She could barely keep her eyes open as she navigated the stairs. Hours of trying to change Ciar back had sapped her of all her energy. Not a single thing they’d tried had made the slightest bit of difference. She had to remember the incantation. Without it, they didn’t have a hope.

  Mikayla pushed into her room before kicking the door closed behind her. She flicked the light switch with her elbow, then set Ciar down on her bed.

  “This is where you’ll sleep for the time being,” she told him before striding into her connecting bathroom.

  Mikayla grabbed her bowl full of cotton balls and dumped the contents out. After rinsing the bowl, she filled it with water and set it on the floor in the bedroom.

  “If you get thirsty,” she called.

  The dog hesitated at the edge of her bed, looking down at the distance to the floor. After a few false starts, he finally flung his small body from the mattress. His landing wasn’t exactly graceful but he quickly found his feet and trotted to the water bowl. After a drink, he sauntered into the bathroom and sat down to watch her.

  Mikayla cast him a smile before turning back to the mirror. She stared at her black-lined eyes and red lips. Normally she wasn’t much of a makeup girl but tonight she’d made an effort. She’d wanted Ciar to see she was more than her magic. What a smashing success.

  Mikayla cursed her reflection and reached for a washcloth.

  Once she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, she strode to her closet and pulled out her blue nightgown.

  The poodle leapt onto the bed, watching her with definite interest.

  She touched the hem of her tank top, then glanced uneasily back at Ciar.

  “Are you sure there’s nobody home in that little doggy head of yours?”

  In response, he rolled onto his back, twisting his body as if to make her laugh.

  No way would Ciar ever act so silly, she thought, pulling her shirt over her head.

  The dog froze, his head tilted at an unnatural angle as he watched her.

  Frowning at the poodle, Mikayla turned her back to him as she slipped the black lace bra down her arms. She tossed it into the laundry hamper before undoing her jeans. As she stripped out of her clothes, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. She knew it was only a dog on her bed, not Ciar watching her with burning eyes. Still, knowing Ciar was with her, in any form, was like stripping for a lover.

  After kicking her jeans into the closet she reached quickly for her nightgown. Despite the logic that told her she was as good as alone, Mikayla couldn’t fight the urge to cover herself. The silk floated down her body to her ankles, accentuating her slender form. Glancing down at the scooping neckline and the tiny straps of the nightie, Mikayla acknowledged it’d been a long time since she’d dressed for anyone other than herself. Once she fixed Ciar, she was going to have to move on. She was finally getting the memo. Nothing good came from wanting a demon.

  Mikayla switched off the light before heading for the bed. As she snuggled under the covers, the dog made his way to her side.

  “Goodnight, Ciar,” she whispered, scratching his ears. “I swear I’ll fix you. You have my word.”

  Here’s hoping I’ll be able to keep it.

  Chapter Three

  “Is he…is he sparkling?”

  Wyn looked down at the whining dog on the table. “I believe the question should be, is he pink?” she replied.

  “What the hell did you two do to Ciar?” Mikayla demanded.

  In the middle of their table stood a bright-pink toy poodle with tiny sparkles stuck to his fur. Even for a dog, he looked decidedly annoyed.

  “Man, I know we can’
t let him remember anything, but come on, we could blackmail him for centuries with this.” Wyn chortled.

  The dog growled at the grinning witch.

  “Hush, pup,” Wyn told him. “Or no more people food for you.”

  “Tamsyn?” Mikayla asked, exasperated.

  With a wave of her hand the spell reversed, changing Ciar’s fur back to its natural white.

  “Right, well, as fun as that was, we’re hitting nothing but roadblocks here, ladies,” Wyn said, moving back to the stove to the potion she was brewing.

  Tamsyn nodded. “We’ve pretty much exhausted all the magical texts we have.”

  “We can’t give up,” Mikayla protested.

  “No,” Tamsyn agreed. “But, honey, maybe we have to wait for the spell to run its course. Obviously you were working some heavy magic last night to craft an enchantment this strong. There must have been a reason.”

  Mikayla sighed, dropping into a chair. The dog struggled to find his balance perched on her knees. “I just need to remember the damn incantation.”

  “In the meantime,” Wyn said, spooning her blue potion into three glass vials, “I’ve got something for each of us.”

  She handed out the vials.

  “What is it?” Mikayla asked, tilting the blue vial up to the light.

  “A forgetting potion,” she replied. “On the off chance that we actually manage to reverse the spell and get Ciar back to his natural form, I figured we’d better have some on hand. There’s no telling what he’ll remember. It could be nothing, but it could also be an insatiable lust for puppy chow. Better safe than sorry.”

  “How do we use it?” Tamsyn asked.

  “Simple, throw the potion on him the second he changes back. It should knock out his memory for the last few days.” She glanced at the dog. “It’s pretty strong, so I don’t advise using it on him in this form. I doubt poodles and memory potions mix well.”

  Mikayla eyed the potion. “I wish we didn’t have to use it,” she said. “I’ve already hurt him enough.”

  Wyn reached out to touch her shoulder. “You know demons, sis. He won’t forgive you for this.”