I’m standing right here. Okay. Floating. I’m floating right here.
“That would be amazing,” said Immie, bright hope daring to peek through the gray clouds of misery.
Seriously, you ass monkeys. She waved at Immie and Baba Yaga with her middle finger. Floating. Right. Here.
Immie’s gaze landed on Tabor, and she found him staring her. His expression revealed nothing, but she could only imagine what he must be thinking. Probably something along the lines of “crazy” and “freak.” Nothing she hadn’t heard before. Now that she had the full attention of the bear Shifter, she felt like a bug under a microscope. That was the total opposite of feeling sexy and desired.
You think having the same gig for four-hundred-plus years is a picnic? I’ve endured centuries of dealing with ninnies like this one. Dorcas jabbed a thumb at Immie. I hate people. They sucked when I was alive. And they suck even more now that I’m dead. Dorcas’ eyes bulged, and the air around her started to stir. Great. Dorcas was working herself up into a hissy fit.
“I better go home. My familiar already vomited on Zelda. If my ghost goes on a rampage, this place will be destroyed, and I’ll never be able to ask for the Shifter Wanker’s help again.”
Baba Yaga lifted her hand, and magic ropes of neon green and orange hissed toward Dorcas. They wrapped around her mouth, her shoulders, and her legs. She looked like she’d been taken hostage by Baba Yaga’s bracelets. Of course, no one else could see anything but the magic tendrils seemingly hovering in mid-air.
Immie’s mouth dropped open. For the first time in the fifty years since Immie inherited the curse, Dorcas was quiet and still. She wanted to weep. Hell, she wanted to use the bathroom! But she knew that eventually any spell aimed at the ghost would disappear. That was the strength of the curse—the longer Dorcas was a ghost, the stronger she got. She didn’t have her witch powers, thank the Goddess, but she’d acquired the ability to manipulate physical objects.
“Zelda, you smell like a baboon’s butt.” Baba Yaga snapped her fingers, and the redhead’s ruined shirt turned into a black tank top with black netting over it. The look was very “Desperately Seeking Susan.”
Zelda screamed as though someone had just stabbed her. “Get it off! Get it off! Oh, my God. It’s like the 1980s threw up on me. I’d rather wear lizard vomit.”
Fabio touched Zelda’s shoulder. A black short-sleeved ruffled silk top replaced the tank/net combo. “From Stella McCartney’s new line,” said Fabio. “Feel better?”
“So. Much.”
Fabio gazed lovingly at Baba Yaga, and the boss witch made goo-goo eyes back at him. “You should thank Carol. She was trying to help.”
“She’s not my step-mom, yet,” Zelda mumbled. She glanced at Baba Yaga. “Thanks for trying. I guess.”
Baba Yaga smiled a scary, tight-lipped, I’m-the-head-witch-so-shut-the-hell-up smile. “Okay, let’s get down to brass tacks, people.” She looked at Zelda and Immie. “Sit down.”
Immie did so immediately, but Zelda took her time. It seemed like she was deliberately baiting Baba Yaga. Was she crazy? Who would intentionally annoy the boss of all witches? Immie never wanted to see the inside of the witch prison in Salem. She’d heard the facility was seven kinds of terrible. Her hands began to tremble, and she clasped them together. Confrontation had never been her thing. Not after being bullied by Dorcas most of her life.
“Here’s the deal. Dorcas Hoar and the ancestor of Imogene, Deliverance Hobbs, feuded so much that they started the Salem witch trials. Don’t get me wrong. Most of the people in Salem Village were contentious asshats, and those two were like a match lighting a fire. All because they both wanted the same cow.”
“Gross.”
Baba Yaga rolled her eyes. “Not like that, Zelda.”
“A freaking cow,” said Jessica incredulously. “If it was chocolate, I’d totally understand.”
“Yeah, that would make a lot more sense,” agreed Baba Yaga. “Cows were practically the same as currency. Anyway, their feud grew so bitter that both families engaged in a war that hurt each other, killed crops, burned down buildings, made neighbors sick, and all that got the attention of witch hunters. When my mother, who was Baba Yaga at the time, heard about this nonsense, she decided enough was enough.”
“Did she cut the cow in half?” asked Jessica.
“No,” said Baba Yaga giving the vampire an odd look. “A lot of folks perished in the trials, some of them innocent humans. So, Mom cursed the Hoar and Hobbs families. Upon the death of Dorcas Hoar and Deliverance Hobbs, their spirits would haunt the other’s firstborn female in their bloodlines. Forever.” Baba Yaga sent Immie a sympathetic look. “It’s one of the reasons both bloodlines have dwindled. A lot of suicides and procreation prevention. The Hoar line died out a hundred years ago, and Deliverance Hobbs finally left the earthly plane.”
“Wait a minute,” said Zelda. “Are you saying your mom was powerful enough to attach ghost witches to human beings? I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“I’m not sure it’s a repeatable act. My mother was really pissed off when she created the curse.” Baba Yaga tapped her long fingernails against the table. “We’ve never lived down the Salem witch trials.”
Immie knew the story of the Hoar and Hobbs feud by heart. She’d been told it over and over practically since she was born. Her mother Nera had been the very last of the Hobbs line. She’d been determined not to have a child so that the curse ended with her death.
Imogene had been a complete surprise. Nera always believed Dorcas had somehow been responsible for a one-night-stand that begat Immie, but Dorcas denied she had anything to do with the witch getting knocked up. It didn’t really matter, though, did it?
Immie didn’t know anything about her father, and since her mother was already half-insane from Dorcas’ constant nagging, bitching, and fit-throwing, she wasn’t exactly prime motherhood material. When Immie was nine-years-old, Mom dropped her off at the Salem Witchling Orphanage.
At the age of twenty-three, Immie had been attending the Salem School of Herbalism and Botanical Magic. Dorcas appeared in her dorm room, announced her mother had committed suicide, and proceeded to destroy Immie’s life. In fact, it took less than a month for Dorcas to get Immie expelled.
She realized she’d drifted away from the conversation, and she became aware that Baba Yaga was talking to her. She shook off her fugue state and focused on the boss witch.
“Tabor needs an expert to help him figure out what’s wrong with the Great Ash,” said Baba Yaga. “Immie, you’re the expert. I want you to go to Wild and save the tree.”
Chapter Three
“Not just any tree,” said Tabor. “The Great Ash is the oldest known magical tree in North America, and one of the few left on this continent. There’s always been a paranormal community to protect it. Most of the people who live in Wild don’t know the town’s main purpose. Just having magic around helps it grow and keeps it healthy. Well, until a week ago. It started losing its leaves and yesterday, its bark turned black. Its dying, and we don’t know why or how to stop it.”
“Only a few people know where the tree is,” said Baba Yaga. “Keeping the Great Ash and its location secret is absolutely necessary to prevent misuse of its properties.” She looked at Immie. “That’s where you come in. I want you to go fix the tree.”
Stunned, Immie stared at the mother of all witches. “Me?”
“Everyone knows you’re the plant whisperer. Your creator specialty is the entirety of nature. In other words, you’re perfect for the job.”
“What does Imogene get?” asked Zelda.
Baba Yaga looked shocked that Zelda had asked such a question. Honestly, Immie was, too.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Zelda. “Look at me. Giving a shit. I’m the Shifter Wanker, and I have a town to protect. She’s part of it. So. What does Imogene get for traipsing off to Hellhole, Tex-ass with bear boy over there?”
“The Great Ash is ancient and it
s magic is very special,” said Tabor in that delicious drawl. “There’s a good chance that once we get the Great Ash fully healed, Baba Yaga can create a spell that breaks the curse.”
Immie glanced at Dorcas and saw the woman’s eyes go wide. She knew that Dorcas didn’t want to leave the earthly plane. She liked being a ghost.
“Why on earth haven’t you tried to break the curse before?” asked Immie. Baba Yaga gaze seared her, but she couldn’t back down. “If the Great Ash is ancient, that means it’s been around at least since the Salem Witch Trials.”
“True. But nobody undoes my mother’s spells. At least not when she’s paying attention. And, let’s be honest, most of your ancestors were jerkfaces. You’re different, Immie, and I’d like to help you.” Baba Yaga twirled her forefinger at her. “But you have to fix the Great Ash first.”
Tabor looked at Immie, and she was utterly drawn in by those chocolate-y depths. “Will you come to Wild with me and heal the Great Ash?”
“Yes,” said Immie instantly. Her mouth hadn’t even consulted with her brain. Damn those velvet brown eyes and tight jeans.
Just then, the neon magic spirals imprisoning the ghost shattered into a thousand glittering shards. Dorcas screamed so loudly that the sound of it actually shook the house. Liz slithered off Immie and trotted under the table, yelling, “She’s gonna blow, mate!”
Get rid of me, will you! Just try it, missy! Dorcas picked up Immie and tossed her into the air. Oh, sweet baby Goddess! Dorcas had never laid hands on her before. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to brace for impact.
Two strong arms caught her. She opened her eyes and saw Tabor. His gaze filled with concern as he cuddled her against his broad, muscled chest. She could hear the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear. He smelled wonderful, like freshly cut grass and sun-warmed soil. Those were two of her favorite scents. Botany magic was her life. She adored being arm deep in earth, soaking up the sunshine as eagerly as her plants.
And he smelled just like that. She drew in a deep breath, trying not to be too obvious, and felt a wave of hot desire roll through her.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to control her shivers. “She’s never done that before.”
“My pleasure, Miss Hobbs.”
His smile nearly melted her panties. She clung to him, staring, getting hotter by the minute. She had an insane urge to kiss him. You smell like the outdoors. Like everything I love. Immie resisted attacking his face with her lips, but she couldn’t look away from the man.
“You gonna let her go?” asked Baba Yaga. “Or do you plan to carry her all the way to Texas?” She looked up at Dorcas who’d blown her energy on assaulting Immie and now drifted at the top of the ceiling. “Don’t ever do that shit again, you old hag.”
It appeared Dorcas was too tired to even wield sarcasm, but Immie saw the ghost’s regretful expression. It was a rare moment when Dorcas was ashamed by her actions.
Tabor put Immie on her feet and steadied her until she felt strong enough to stand on her own. Liz scurried up Immie and curled around her neck.
“Okay. I’m glad that’s all settled.” Zelda stood up. “Now, you guys can move along and go save trees and witches and shit. I gotta a werewolf king to boff.” She paused. “By the way, why are the vampires here?”
“We’re moral support,” said Jessica. “Tabor and his twin Caleb helped us with a … er, thing. Caleb still lives in our town, but Tabor returned to Wild to become its new guardian.”
“In other words, it’s a very long story,” added Patrick.
“We’re also the transportation,” said Jessica. “We can take Tabor and Imogene to Wild by dissembling our molecules and shooting through a wormhole or whatever and then do it all again, only backward.”
Zelda curled her lip. “Why don’t you just poof there?”
“Vampires don’t poof,” said Patrick, his expression slightly horrified.
Zelda opened her mouth, probably to insult vampire travel, but Tabor interrupted.
“Why don’t we get going?” he asked Patrick. “I’ve already been away too long.”
Was this actually happening right now? Panic twisted through her. “What about clothes and spell books and Liz’s toys—”
“I’ll make sure everything gets there before you do,” said Baba Yaga.
“Gets where?” asked Immie.
“My home,” said Tabor. “Safest spot in Wild.”
Before Immie had a chance to digest that bit of news, Jessica pulled Immie into her embrace. Liz clung harder to her witch’s neck. “You might want to hold on,” said the vampire.
Patrick hugged Tabor.
Then everybody exploded.
* * *
When Immie opened her eyes, she stood on the front porch of a log cabin. Jessica stepped away. “The first time is a real doozy.”
Liz trembled on Immie’s shoulder. “Crikey,” said Liz, “let’s never do that again. Witch poofing is less discombobulating. Not that we actually poof anywhere anymore.”
“I haven’t done a transport spell in years,” said Immie. “It’s probably better that we hitched a ride with Jessica.” Her stomach felt queasy. If she could help it, she was never using vampire travel again. She turned and looked at the gloomy, tangled woods just beyond a small clearing. Her nausea subsided. The night sky was studded with stars and a crescent moon. It smelled like earth and pine and wood smoke. She instantly felt at home.
How odd. It wasn’t like her home was uncomfortable, but … there was just something special about Tabor’s space. She shouldn’t be surprised that a bear Shifter lived in the woods. It was so beautiful and peaceful here. For some reason, she thought Texas was all dusty plains, tumbleweeds, and cactus plants.
I’ve seen better. Dorcas floated next to her. When she got sullen, she often presented herself as a Puritan with a white bonnet and a simple black dress. But she still wore the clear plastic high heels. How long are we supposed to be at this dump?
Immie didn’t answer. She didn’t want to inspire another Dorcas temper tantrum by reminding the ghost they were here to break the curse.
Next to her, the air began to fill with gold sparkles. Patrick and Tabor appeared, and the bear Shifter stumbled back. “Thanks,” said Tabor. He looked like he never wanted to burst into nothingness ever again. She knew exactly how he felt. She really needed to practice her transport spells. Witch poofing was way better than vampire sparkling.
“Yes,” said Immie. “I appreciate the … er, ride.”
“Nothing like a vampire taxi service,” said Jessica. She gave Tabor a hug. “If you need us, you know where to find us.”
Patrick smiled at Immie. “Good luck.”
“Thank y’all again,” said Tabor.
Jessica and Patrick clasped each other’s hands and then glittered away into the deep, dark night.
Tabor took off his hat, and Immie saw his brown hair, a little long for a cowboy since it curled around his ears, but probably just right for a bear Shifter. The hatband had pressed a circle around his head, which she thought was adorable. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the pressed spot until it was gone.
“Where’s the town?”
“My cabin is about ten miles out from its border. The Great Ash lives between my home and Wild.” Tabor politely walked her to the front until they reached a solid wood door the color of cherry sunshine. Symbols were carved into it.
“I’ve never seen those kind of runes before.”
“They’re not runes,” he said. “They’re Shifter protection wards. Think of it as an inscribed prayer asking the Goddess to guard my home.”
“Shifters have magic?” she asked, shocked.
“No. Any supernatural being can ask the Goddess for protection or help. Shifters just have their own way of asking.” He pointed to items stacked near the door. “These yours?”
As promised, Baba Yaga had delivered two packed suitcases, a stack of Immie’s spell and research books, and in a clear plas
tic bag were Liz’s food, blanket, and her Paranormal Pals collection.
“Yes,” said Immie, feeling somewhat relieved to see her personal possessions, especially the books. Hopefully they could help her diagnose the problem with the Great Ash and direct her toward how to create a cure.
“I’ll get your things inside, Miss Hobbs.”
“Call me Immie, please.”
“Will do, Immie.” He smiled at her, sending a tingling thrill through her. That wonderful scent of grass and earth overwhelmed her once more. “And you can call me Tabor,” he added.
“Thank you, Tabor.”
He gestured for her to enter ahead of him. With Liz clinging to her shoulder and Dorcas floating above her, Immie walked into the home of Wild’s bear Shifter guardian.
* * *
"I loooooost my girl, my truck, and my ol’ coooooon dog," lamented a singer with a gruff voice.
Tabor Cotton opened one eye, reached down and shut off his radio alarm. The digital screen glowed 5:00 a. m., and it was still dark outside. He was suffering from a vampire transport hangover. For whatever reason, every time he moved through space and time with one of those bloodsuckers, it just about killed him.
Why the hell did he set his alarm? At this time of day, even the Goddess was asleep. Flat on his stomach, sprawled on the couch, the television’s remote control puncturing what was probably his liver, it took him a minute to figure out why the hell he was on his couch and not sprawled in his bear-sized bed.
Oh, yeah. Imogene Hobbs.
She was a different kind of witch, and not just because of the curse. She seemed to lack the cocky confidence exhibited by most witches. In a way, Tabor found her quirky, seemingly shy, nature endearing. It didn’t hurt that she had sexy curves, an imp-like nose, turned up just the tiniest bit on the end, and the largest, greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Her blonde hair looked like spun silk, and he’d wanted to run his fingers through the strands and—
Goddess, help me. Immie smelled like deep, rich, sweet honey. The kind you get right out of the hive. He wasn’t going to read too much into that because bears loved honey, and he was no exception. He was nowhere near ready to think about the idea he might’ve met his mate. Maybe lots of witches smelled like honey.
Magic and Mayhem: Sh*t My Witch Says (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Witches Gone Wild Book 1) Page 2