“Good morning, ma’am,” said Immie. She smiled shyly at the bear Shifter. “Hi, Tabor.”
Tabor returned the smile. She saw his nose wiggle as if he were sniffing something in the air. She found herself mirroring the action. Yep. The fresh-cut grass and warm earth fragrances wrapped around her. She found both hot-cocoa-soft-blanket comfort and holy-hot-pants-sexy times in that wonderful scent. It’s him, she admitted. Tabor smelled like the outdoors and felt like home. Whew.
“Mom, this is Imogene Hobbs and her familiar, Liz.”
“Please call me Immie.”
“I’m Rhoda. Nice to meet you both.” Her sweet smile shifted into a wide grin. “So, Immie. How does it feel to be a bear Shifter’s mate?”
* * *
Tabor felt embarrassed heat crawl up the back of his neck and start cooking his face. He was a fucking full-grown bear, yet his mom could still make him feel like a cub. It didn’t help that Immie had taken the mating news as though she’d been told she was going to die of a terminal disease. Liz, however, looked absolutely delighted. Great. He’d impressed the lizard, but not her witch.
“Mom,” he groaned.
“What?” she asked guilessly. “How was I supposed to know you hadn’t told her yet?” She winked at Immie. “I’m trying to help you, son.”
Immie looked deathly pale and started to sway. Tabor cursed under his breath as he got up and guided Immie to the seat he’d just occupied. He poured her a glass of cold water from the filtered pitcher he kept in the fridge and put it in her hands. “Drink, sweetheart,” he coaxed.
“It’s not a death sentence, you know,” said Rhoda. “I mean, I know the boy’s ugly as sin, but he’s handy to have around.”
“Ugly?” asked Immie vaguely. She looked up at him, her eyes as round as saucers. “Who’s she talking about?”
“Me.”
She sipped the water and turned her gaze to Rhoda. “Do you have a vision problem?”
Rhoda pounded the butcher block and hooted. “I like you, Immie.” She pointed at her. “You’re a keeper. The mating scent is never wrong.” She tapped the side of her nose. “That’s the way it works with Shifters.”
Liz slithered off Immie’s neck and stood up, using her clawed front feet to pat the witch’s cheeks. “Immie? You all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m good.” She stared at Tabor. “I can’t … we can’t … you know. I’d ruin your life. I can’t foist my curse and Dorcas onto you.” She paled even more. “I can’t have kids, either. Dorcas will transfer to our firstborn daughter.”
“My dad will remove Dorcas,” said Rhoda confidently. “You won’t have worry about curses and spirits and what-not.”
Tabor stroked Immie’s back and hated that she was trembling. On the up side, she hadn’t exactly said no—and she’d immediately started thinking about children.
“What’s he smell like?” asked Rhoda. “His dad’s scent is like mint candy. And let me tell you, that hunka hunka bear Shifter is still yummy.”
“Mom. No. Just … no.”
“Tabor smells like fresh-cut grass and sun-warmed soil,” admitted Immie. “Like how my greenhouse and garden smell. Perfect.”
Tabor felt himself preen at her description. So, she was experiencing the mating scent. That meant Immie really was the one. He didn’t know how to feel about that. It’s not like he was expecting his mate to enter his life yesterday. He’d actually gotten to the point where he thought he wouldn’t mate. Some Shifters never did.
Immie seemed to enjoy his light back rub, so he kept doing it. She unconsciously leaned into it and he moved from her back to her shoulders. As he worked out the knotted muscles around her neck, she sighed with pleasure. That little noise went straight to his groin and stirred his blood. Damn. The last thing he needed right now was a hard-on.
“How about we table the whole mating discussion?” he asked. “Immie has a job to do for Baba Yaga.”
“Right,” said Immie. “What he said.”
“Mom’s here to watch the twins. They’ll be in good hands while I take you to the Great Ash.”
“I’ll stay here, too,” said Liz.
Immie nodded. “Okay. I’ll get dressed.” He saw Immie give her familiar the stink eye. “Don’t eat anything I wouldn’t.”
The lizard’s expression was all innocence. The fact that Liz could even have an expression blew Tabor’s mind. Familiars talked and emoted like humans, but they didn’t have dual natures like Shifters. They had the kind of unbreakable and loving bond with their witches that Tabor had only seen between mates.
Tabor watched Immie slide off the stool and head toward the back staircase. Her gait was unsteady. As soon as she was out of earshot, Tabor said, “You about scared her to death.” He stared daggers at his mother. “Why did you tell her we were mates?”
“Because I know you Tabor Gareth Cotton. You’d hem and haw and overthink the whole situation and by the time you figured out what to do, she’d be gone.” Rhoda met his gaze, unashamed by her bold matchmaking. “Finding your mate has nothing to do with pros and cons lists and charts and Goddess knows what else your OCD mind comes up with. It’s simple, son. When you find the one, you mate with her.”
“Well, I think she has something to say about it,” said Tabor drolly.
Rhoda waved as though she was flicking away his doubts. “She’ll come around.” She smiled. “They always do.”
Chapter Six
When Immie entered the bedroom, she saw Dorcas floating at the top of the room. She was horizontal, her nose an inch away from the ceiling, staring at the big planks that created the roof of the cabin. She was dressed Puritan all the way, even with the buckle shoes and her hair neatly tucked into her plain white bonnet.
“Dorcas?”
The ghost slowly rolled until she faced the floor. Immie stepped underneath the sullen spirit so she could make eye contact. “Are you all right?”
What do you care? I’m a curse. A crazy witch. A ghost that should be sliced off you like an unwanted wart.
Immie couldn’t deny any of those comments, but she wasn’t entirely heartless. “Aren’t you tired of being transferred person to person with no choice about whom you’re with or where you can go?”
It’s not how I expected to spend my afterlife. But it’s better than going off to wherever misunderstood witches go. I’m terrified of what’s on the other side.
This was the first time Dorcas and Immie had had a real conversation. Most of their interactions involved yelling and throwing things. It had never occurred to Immie that Dorcas might feel scared or lonely. She wondered if any of her ancestors had cared about Dorcas. Was it even possible to have empathy for a contentious asshat? Or had Dorcas’ own fear and bitterness crafted her into a ghost who’d rather be hated than rejected?
Those kids got to me. And they made fun of my hoo-ha. It’s not like we had wax or lasers to tame the wilds down there back in the day.
Immie cautiously wondered if this was a Dorcas trick. She’d fall for this sympathetic version and then get water dumped on her or tormented with atrocious singing until she wanted to rip off her own ears.
Four hundred years gave a witch-ghost a long time to learn how to do certain things. While Dorcas could change clothes and hairstyles easily, she’d hadn’t quite learned how to re-craft her body. When she went on her naked sprees, she did it full-old-lady-style.
How did they make my clothes disappear? I mean, they’re just witchlings. And they’re not Hobbs relatives, either. They shouldn’t be able to see me.
“That is strange.” Immie frowned. It would be just like Dorcas to get naked and toss the blame at children. On the other hand, the woman seemed genuinely perplexed about the whole incident. “You’re saying the twins undressed you?”
Well, I didn’t do it.
“Why would they?”
How am I supposed to know? Maybe they just like humiliating the elderly. This is why I didn’t have witchlings of my own.
Immie rolled her eyes. She’d read everything possible about Dorcas Hoar and the Salem Witch Trials, mostly hoping to find a way out of the curse. Dorcas liked to forget she once had a husband and daughter. “You had a child, remember?”
Oh yeah. Her. The ghost waved her hand in front of her nose as if something smelled rotten. Those two little girls look innocent enough, but they’re evil. Evil!
“They are not,” said Immie. She remembered their sweet faces while she’d read them a story. Those two darlings didn’t have a mean bone in their bodies. And that was saying something considering their father, who was maliciousness incarnate, had been systematically killing them by draining their magic.
I’m more familiar with bedeviled children than you are. For instance, Betty Parris and Abigail Williams. They looked like little angels until they lost their damned minds and lied their asses off about being tormented.
“Not this again,” said Immie. “You like to leave out the part where you fighting with Deliverance started that whole disaster.”
She accused me of being a witch.
“You are a witch.”
And she wouldn’t give me the cow. I saw it first!
“Dorcas, think of it this way. You make fun of me all the time, which makes you a pain in the ass, but are you evil?”
The ghost’s mouth dropped open. Closed. Opened. Closed. Opened again. She pointed a gnarled finger at Immie. You suck! And with that revelation, she floated up and resumed her previous horizontal-stare-at-the-ceiling position.
Wow. Dorcas really was in a funk. She’d never seen the ghost at a loss for sarcastic, biting comebacks before. It was more than a little unsettling. In order to take Dorcas’ mind off her humiliation, Immie blurted, “Tabor thinks I’m his mate.”
That announcement got Dorcas off her pity pot. She came down in a rush and hovered in front of Immie. Are you kidding me? Is it the scent thing? Shifters loooove the scent thing.
“Yes,” said Immie. “And … I think he might be right. He smells like my garden after it rains. I’m this close to tackling him and ripping off his clothes.”
Do you want to be mated to him?
“I just met him.”
Once they experience the mating scent, Shifters don’t care about dating rituals or a getting-to-know-you period. You could mate with him tomorrow or next year. Same difference to him. She tilted her head, her lips pursed. Actually, he’d probably prefer it if you mated with him now instead of later.
Immie found herself feeling woozy, so she sat down on the bed. Her face felt flushed, and her stomach churned. “I can’t think about this right now. Talk about a punch in the face.”
I think you mean a punch in the vagina. Dorcas grinned. But you don’t have to do jack shit. I’ll push him down the stairs and break his legs. Then you can run away.
That sounded almost like Dorcas was trying to help her. “I don’t think we’re at the escape stage yet,” she said.
Well, let’s keep it as a backup plan.
Oh, Goddess. Dorcas’ version of assistance seemed pretty close to her definition of detriment. Still. She didn’t want to break the tenuous friendship building between them. Maybe “friendship” was too optimistic. But at least it was a positive vibe, and that was a first.
* * *
“Please don’t leave us,” begged Eden as she clung to Immie’s leg. Erin had claimed one of Tabor’s legs on the same premise.
“We’re coming back,” said Tabor. He placed his hand on top of Erin’s blonde head and shared a look of worry with Immie.
They were being held hostage in the kitchen, despite constant reassurances that they’d only be gone for a couple of hours. Apparently 120 minutes was too long as far as the twins were concerned.
“I’ve never seen bonding this quick,” said Rhoda. “How’d y’all do that?”
“It’s not bonding, Mom. They’re terrified. I promised to protect them.”
Rhoda bent down. “My son always keeps his promises.” She looked at each girl and offered a cheery smile. “They’re going to return, I swear on a hive full of honeybees. And in the meanwhile, we’ll make cookies.”
The girls remained unconvinced, although the mention of cookies had garnered some interest.
Immie wanted to make them feel safe too. “Liz, would you retrieve two angelica archangelica seeds for me? Check the seed box in the smaller suitcase.”
Liz saluted. “On it, Immie.” The lizard took off for the back stairs. She returned in a flash, using her sparkly green magic to glide up to the butcher block. She put two small seeds onto Immie’s outstretched palm.
Immie swirled her finger over the seeds and chanted:
“Seeds of life
Protect from evil
Condemn strife
And any upheaval
Give them magic to wield
Against powers infernal
And create their shield
From the sacred circle.”
The seeds twirled off Immie’s palm, rising into the air and moving apart. Each seed began to spin in a large circle, and as it did so, verdant green stems and tiny leaves began to grow. As the crowns expanded, small yellow and green blooms emerged. After a moment, the plants stopped spinning. Immie directed one flower tiara to Eden’s head and the other to Erin’s.
“These are angel crowns,” said Immie. “The angelica archangelica has amazing protection properties. So long as you wear them, nothing can harm you. You’ll be safe.”
The girls reluctantly loosened their grips, and each touched the other’s blooming crown. “It feels tingly,” they said together.
“That’s the magic,” said Immie.
Eden and Erin’s face broke out into smiles. Then they looked at Rhoda. “Can we still make cookies?”
“Are you kidding? We going to fill up this kitchen we every kind of cookie we can think of.”
Once the girls were distracted with pulling out pans, pre-heating the oven, and debating whether to bake chocolate chip or peanut butter cookies first, Tabor and Immie—and Dorcas—slipped out the front door and into the Piney Woods.
* * *
How much longer are we going traipse through this ugly forest? It’s humid and hot as Satan’s balls. Besides, there’s something weird about this place. I don’t like it here.
“First of all, you can’t feel temperature, so the whole Satan’s balls comment is irrelevant,” said Immie. “And secondly, if you don’t like it here, go back to the cabin.”
And leave you alone with the horny bear? No way. If he dips into your honeypot, we’re never getting out of hell’s cesspit.
“Right. I think you’re too scared of the twins to face them by yourself.”
I don’t know what you’re talking about. I ain’t scared of nothing. Dorcas zoomed up, flowing above the tree line.
“What’s wrong with your ghost?” asked Tabor. “And do I even want to know about Satan’s balls?” He walked ahead, moving vines, branches, and other debris out of the way for Immie to pass through.
“She’s complaining about the heat, which is stupid because she doesn’t feel temperatures. She also says there something weird about this place.” And oh yeah, mentioned you dipping into my honeypot. Immie drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. Being outdoors always gave her both peace and energy. “I love it. Nature soothes the soul.”
Tabor stopped and looked at her. “What you did with those seeds was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His expression was filled with amazement. “Those plant crowns were beautiful.”
“Would you like one, too?” she teased.
“Don’t think I won’t wear a crown of flowers that you made for me. I’ll parade right up the middle of Main Street, proud as a peacock Shifter on mating day.”
She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Maybe I can show you some of my favorite spots,” said Tabor gesturing around the forest. “You know, after we figure out what’s going on with the Great Ash.”
Tabor kicked some broken limbs blocking the way, then pointed down the path at a huge tree, at least six feet wide and ten feet high. Its branches were all at the top of the tree, thick and twisted together. It looked like a massive umbrella. Immie knew the black spots on its trunk were disease, but she wasn’t sure what kind. Gigantic piles of orange, red, and yellow leaves decorated the space around the Great Ash. Not a single leaf remained on the tree.
Dorcas dropped down and put herself in front of Immie. Don’t go over there. Something’s stinkier than hot dog shit. It’s making me tingle—in all the wrong ways.
“The tree is sick,” said Immie in a reasonable tone. “I’m here to make it better.”
Look, witchalicious, I know don’t believe me because I’ve been a twatwaffle for fifty years, but I’m serious. You don’t owe the bear or the town or the goddamned tree. Walk away.
Immie was torn between Dorcas’ concerned tone and the ghost’s penchant for pranks. She looked sincere and more than a little scared, but Immie had been fooled before. “Baba Yaga sent me here, remember? Do you want to tell her why we skipped out on our mission?”
Fuck, no. But only because I don’t want to see another Madonna-inspired top jammed onto those tits of hers.
“I dare you to tell her that.”
Dorcas wrung her hands and seemed to get more and more jittery by the second. All right, you witch-hole, go help the almighty special tree. If you get dead, it’s your own damned fault.
As they drew closer to the Great Ash, an overwhelming sense of foreboding overcame Immie. She was a creator witch, and everything about the tree seemed to be in direct conflict with her magic. She glanced at Dorcas. Maybe, this one time, she should give the dead witch some credence.
If you die, I die, nincompoop. Do you think I’d bullshit you? Dorcas’ voice had raised a couple of octaves. Her fear was palpable and it made Immie think twice about ignoring the ghost’s warning.
Magic and Mayhem: Sh*t My Witch Says (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Witches Gone Wild Book 1) Page 4