Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  22

  Dorius peeked into Susan's bedroom and caught Marcus as he stood over a clothes hamper with a pair of red silk panties held up in front of his nose.

  "Marcus, what are you doing?"

  Marcus shoved the panties in the pocket of his jeans. "Just looking for clues."

  "I'm sure those panties have all the answers," Dorius said with a smirk, his eyes glued on the front of his brother's jeans.

  "Just getting their scents straight." Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

  "I can see by that lump in your pants you've gathered quite a few clues." Dorius snickered and left the bedroom.

  Marcus rumbled.

  A few minutes later, Dorius paced around the women's living room, throwing frowns at all the animals mounted on the walls. "I can't believe you just let the wolf trot off without us. He better get his hairy ass back quick, or I'm calling in the troops."

  "Why don't you read one of those books in the basket on the floor?" Marcus said. "Try 'Accidental Vampire'. That sounds apropos, or maybe a trip to the package store across the street might calm you. When did you feed last?"

  "Just before we got here. This damned Seraph blood! The endless hunger is barely worth the extra powers." Dorius rifled through the basket. He held up a set of Tarot cards, waving them at Camillio. "Just a toy, or do you think they really know how to use these?"

  "Don't be snide, Dorius, although it does suit you," Marcus answered. "They're dime store cards. Maybe you didn't notice the five-dollar and ninety-seven-cent price tag on the back."

  "How long are we going to wait?" Dorius glared at him.

  "We'll wait until the wolf calls." Marcus pulled a blood bag from a cooler by the coffee table. "I found cheap books on spell-casting downstairs. If you were doing your job instead of following me around earlier, you would have noticed them. These women are nothing more than immortals trying to learn the trade. Now be patient and find a chair before you make me angry." He held back mentioning the set of runes he'd found upstairs in Susan's panty drawer, forged from an oak tree with human blood staining the symbols.

  "Why the hell are you here getting in my shit, Marcus?" Dorius growled.

  Camillio shot both of them a nasty look. "Okay you two, let's not turn this into a pissing match. Everybody settle down. I'm going to call my mate. She's been in my head all day. Dorius, you going to call Dennis to check on Christopher, or should I ask about him?"

  "I'll do it. I need to make sure the men are ready in the event we need them." Dorius glared at Marcus, tossing the cards on the coffee table.

  "I believe we can handle this without your entourage." Marcus cut the corner off a blood bag with a pair of scissors he'd pulled from a knife block on the kitchen counter.

  "I don't like you working this end of the business," Dorius growled. "I've been doing just fine without your assistance in the field."

  Marcus watched Dorius strut toward the front door, cell in his hand, pulling at the ass of the jeans he'd borrowed from the downstairs bedroom.

  "I bet many a war has been started because someone had a wedgie," Warren commented, smiling at Marcus.

  "He's going to have more than those jeans up his ass if he calls in his boys before we talk to those women." Marcus eyed the tarot cards, poured some blood into a coffee cup, and then put it in the microwave. He hit the buttons, standing back to watch the cup circle as it warmed.

  Outside, Dorius punched in the number for Dennis at BAMVC.

  Dennis sat behind his desk at BAMVC. Christopher sat across from him, his surfboard leaning against the wall behind him.

  "You know you're really pulling Dorius' chain with this new guise, don't you? Not a good idea, Christopher. He could nail your little beach-bum-ass to the wall, dude."

  "Screw him, man. I'm just trying to do what he wants and slide into something that feels right."

  The phone on the desk rang. Dennis smiled at it. "Speaking of the mouth that clothes your bitchen little ass." He hit the speaker button. "Hello Dorius, what can I do for you?" Dennis grinned at Christopher.

  "Where's Christopher?" Dorius' voice exploded from the phone.

  Christopher pulled a strand of hair in his mouth and sucked on the tip. His new dreadlocks curled about his face, hanging haphazardly around his shoulders in masses of white and yellow twirled sticks.

  "He's sitting right here in front of me, looking very… beachy."

  "I don't want him out of your sight." Dorius' angry voice floated around the room.

  "I can hear you, dude. No need to get all aggro on me, man." Christopher spit the dreadlock out of his mouth. He pulled at his 'Ron Jon's Surf Shop' T-shirt, kicking his Spiderman sandals in the air as he played with the colored beads around his neck.

  "Christopher, I am not putting up with your shit for much longer," Dorius yelled from the speaker.

  "I can always find another place to crash, Frube." Christopher popped out of the chair to answer the scratching at the door. When he opened it, Buster pranced in and licked his face. "Whoa, choka, man," Christopher giggled.

  Buster wore a red bandanna tied around his neck, and in lieu of the studded collar, he now donned a necklace made of puka shells and leather.

  "Are you still there, Dennisss?" Dorius hissed.

  Buster turned to the desk, growling. Christopher giggled.

  "Did you find the women yet, Dorius?" Dennis asked with a smile.

  "They eluded capture today but the wolf will find them. It's just a matter of time, Christopher," Dorius warned.

  "Yeah, man, but time is irrelevant, isn't it, dude? I'm just enjoying the clidros, coasting on the cutbacks until they start dumping. Got nothin' better to do." Christopher plugged his iPod into his ear. "I get bugged driving up… la-la-la-laaa… Gotta find a new place… hm-hm… hm-hm-hmmm… I get aro-ound, whaa, ooo…" He led Buster out the door with a wave of his hand, shaking his head in time with the music.

  "JoAnn, will you stop throwing shit out of the boat?" I yelled. As we motored in a canal between Lake Harris and Lake Eustis, JoAnn kept tossing French fries out for the fish. Mom was equally bad with the crust from her pizza as we puttered close to the shoreline where she evidently felt comfortable.

  "Why? It's not like littering. The fish or wildlife will eat it," JoAnn mumbled through a mouthful of hamburger.

  "Because it's not good to feed them junk," I said. "There's enough food in the water and on land for the animals. When you feed them, you humanize them. That's why we find gators in our yards, or raccoons in our trashcans. You don't want any more hungry raccoons, do you JoAnn?"

  Zaire was shining the hand held spotlight hooked up to the cigarette lighter on the dash, occasionally catching a fleeting animal. No glowing eyes, though.

  "How much further, Jeni?" Mom interrupted.

  "We have to go through Lake Eustis to the Dora canal, Nan. That's where the cabin is. Maybe another half hour." Jeni studied a map of the interconnected waterways in Lake County with her small Mag-light.

  "Everyone needs to sit somewhere. Lake Eustis will be choppy. I'll motor close to shore but you can still lose your footing if I hit some waves." I turned the boat around the last corner before heading out onto the bigger lake, the Dora Canal about three hundred yards away.

  "I have to pee," JoAnn announced.

  "Hang it over the transom." Zaire tried to be helpful.

  "I will not. I am not falling in that water if you hit a bump."

  "A bump? We're not on a highway, Aunt JoAnn." Resi giggled.

  "I have to go, too," Mom said. "Can you pull up to land for a second?"

  I idled up to the shoreline, not at all happy with the interruption. The waves nudged the boat broadside. I pushed a button on the dashboard, raising the outboard motor.

  Mom and JoAnn sat on the gunwales, the soft patter of urine hitting the water every few seconds.

  "Ah - shit - nothing like pissing in the wind," Mom said, then wiped her backside with a napkin and tossed it on the shore.
>
  I growled.

  "The boat isn't at the dock," Gibbie declared in a flurry of red dust. "We better find them quick or Dorius is gonna cut my wings and shave your ass."

  The wolf let out a soft growl. Turning his nose to the ground again, he sniffed around, padding in circles.

  "Now what?"

  The nose of the wolf shifted toward the canal, south of the bar.

  "You think they headed for Lake Eustis? So, what? You want to follow the shoreline around?"

  Paul made snuffling noises, liquid flying from his nose with the effort.

  "Eeew! Cut the flying body fluids, fleabag." Gibbie zipped three feet higher, wiping his shirt.

  The wolf pranced off toward the shoreline that connected with the canal. Gibbie flitted after him.

  They had just rounded the edge of the canal, moving along the beach running by the highway on Lake Eustis, when the wolf stopped abruptly and sniffed a napkin close to the water's edge. He rubbed his muzzle along the grass, up to the curve of his neck, flipping on his back, wiggling with all four paws dancing over him.

  "Great! That better not be raccoon shit you're rolling in."

  The wolf got back on all four paws, shook his furry body, and then nosed the napkin. With nostrils flaring, he turned to the Eustis boat dock.

  Gibbie landed by the napkin, sniffing. "It's one of the women, isn't it?"

  The wolf snorted and took off, leaping over scrub along the water's edge, Gibbie close behind.

  "There's the tributary we're looking for! See the marker?" JoAnn gave me instructions.

  "I see it, Jiggles. It's not like I haven't been up this canal at least a thousand times in the last thirty years."

  "Then why are you moving so damn slow?" Mom had her hands on her hips, smears of red pizza sauce across her tube top sticking out under a bright orange life-vest.

  "Nanna, sit down somewhere before you fall again." Resi laughed, tugging her toward a seat.

  "I'm going slow because I have to raise the motor to get through the canal. It's hard to maneuver since the hurricane last year. There are a lot of branches in the water." I eased back on the throttle, hitting the button to lift the engine a little higher. "Resi, get up front with Zaire and lean over the bow so you can see any trees lying in the canal."

  "This is stupid. Just hit it and get us there," Mom ordered.

  "Nanna, Mom knows what she's doing. Slide down in your seat so Zaire and Jeni can look for the cabin," Resi said, her ass in the air backlit by a small flashlight as she played it over the water in front of the boat.

  Fifteen minutes later Jeni said, "Look! There's the cabin!" She pointed at a small wood frame building with a light shining over the back door.

  After tying the boat to the small dock on the canal, we entered the cabin and my mother wrinkled her nose. "Jesus, it smells like month old tuna and Aqua Velva in here."

  "Okay, so I guess the couches are fold-outs?" Resi stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at two worn pieces of furniture.

  "Looks that way," I said, thinking I'd lay claim to the bottom bunk of an equally worn bed against the far wall. "Let's just get everything put away and then discuss our next move." I walked over to the little kitchen area and turned on a small radio sitting on the breakfast bar. The twang of Clint Black filled the small room with his country drawl.

  Zaire pulled five bags of blood from a cooler and laid them on a small plastic table, shoving the cooler underneath.

  JoAnn, blood bag in hand, popped in a bendy straw and started sucking. She pulled a small laptop from her duffle bag, set it on a plastic table and began to hook it up.

  Mom snatched a bag of blood, headed for one of the couches, laid the blood bag aside and began rummaging for something, elbow deep in the bowels of the black abyss she called a handbag.

  "Why is it that every time I look into this damn purse, I can't find a thing?"

  "Move, let me look. What is it that you just have to have right now?" I yanked the purse from her and shoved my hand inside.

  Mom smiled at me. "My vibrator."

  I dropped the purse to the floor, took two steps back and rubbed my hand on my jeans, my whole body revolting at the thought of my hand connecting with my mother's sex toy.

  Resi's eyes jerked around the single-room accommodations with disgust. "Surely, you are not going to…."

  "Oh please," she said, pointing at a door off the kitchenette. "I'm going to take a hot bath and enjoy my bag of blood and my fantasies. Get the hell out of my way."

  "Lalalalalalalala," JoAnn sang, her hands over her ears.

  Zaire laughed, pulling a drained bag from her mouth. "Damn, I love this family." She reached under the table and tossed it in the cooler.

  Mom and I faced off.

  "Mother, leave her alone," Jeni said. "At least she's making an effort." Jeni hooked the laptop up to her cell and cranked it on. "I'm going to check my mail, cancel our blood order, then find us plane tickets online. I think going north would be a good idea. Any ideas on what state we want to explore?"

  "Yeah, Alaska." I smiled at my mother, kicking the purse in her direction.

  She frowned at me, picked it up, and with a look of pure spite, stuck her head halfway in. Her hand followed her face and she came out with the biggest, ugliest sex toy I'd ever seen. It looked like an obnoxiously large jellybean penis. She held it up like a sword, pushing it toward my face. I jumped back like it was a loaded gun.

  She tossed the purse behind her on the couch with the rest of her stuff and turned the damn thing on. It began to undulate with a purring noise that brought bile up in my throat.

  "If I could suck on a man instead of this frigging bag of blood, I wouldn't need this!" Mom shoved her alternative toward my face again. I held my breath, praying for my nose to fall off my face.

  "Go ahead, put me in a tin can with a bunch of warm bodies and just see how many of them make it to Alaska." She strutted by us with the vibrator singing in her hand. "Pick a state within driving distance, Jeni."

  Jeni shot her a grin and kept typing.

  "Well, all-righty-then." Zaire grinned.

  "That's just so…sick! Does anyone else see… how dysfunctional this is?" JoAnn yelled a little too loud, her hands covering her ears.

  I cringed and tried not to think about the little woman with the big dildo in the bathroom. Resi smiled at Zaire, got up, walked over to the radio and pumped up the volume. An announcer's voice ricocheted off the walls of the cabin.

  It's another all night bowl-a-thon at ‘Meet Me On The Alley’ in the Silver Pines Plaza on Old 441. Get your balls polished and join Mickey for six hours of fun and games starting tonight at midnight. This year Mickey's giving away ten-thousand in cold hard cash to the winning team…

  "Holy shit! You guys hear that?" Zaire became animated. "Ten big ones! It could pay for our trip."

  As I pondered that, the announcer gave us more information.

  …and Tom Jenkins, our bouncing, announcing, man with the tan - a real smooth talker, gets around real good with his new walker - will be on site to spin-'em and watch you win-'em. So come on all you seniors, and even you wieners…

  "We don't have time to hit the bowling alley, Zaire." I said, thinking my bowling skills would not get the desired results, anyway. "Find another channel. That man's beginning to nauseate me."

  "I'm just saying…" Zaire flipped the dial, cutting the announcer off in mid-sentence.

  "As soon as Jeni finds us a flight, we need to get going." JoAnn took another swig from the bendy straw. "I'm sure it won't take those guys long to find us."

  "I think we should stay and kick some ass." Zaire wrapped her arms around Resi.

  I shot her a look.

  "Well, I do," she spat. "Why should we leave our lake for those bastards?"

  "Uh, because they're going to cut your heads off?" Jeni said. "Or have you forgotten that little tidbit of information?"

  23

  JoAnn and I were dishing out large scoops
of blueberry buckle ice cream, listening to Zaire, Jeni, and Resi discussing the pros and cons of entering the all night Bowl-a-thon.

  "I just think ten grand is hard to pass up," Zaire said.

  "We don't need the money. Mom's loaded," Jeni tapped the keys on her laptop, causing it to wobble on the small table.

  I had to admit, she was right. After three divorces, I was sitting pretty. I owned a boat, a Jeep and a pricey lakefront home, not to mention the two sizable alimony checks and the retirement check I got every month. We didn't need the ten grand.

  My mother, all rosy from her bath, walked into the kitchen fully dressed with a towel around her head and the dildo in her hand. "Ahhh, I feel so much better."

  An abrupt knocking on the door nipped any witty comments.

  "That's probably just Carl checking on us. Go let him in, Aunt JoAnn," Jeni ordered.

  "Not until she puts that ugly thing away." JoAnn pointed at the dildo with a scowl.

  Mom shoved the object in question into the silverware drawer. JoAnn gasped and put her hand over her mouth. I strutted by, lips curled back, and opened the cabin door.

  Paul stepped in with a big smile on his human face. "I came to rescue your cute little asses."

  JoAnn took one look at him and shrieked. She made a beeline for the kitchen, opening doors under the sink, shoving things all over the floor, looking for God knows what.

  She finally jumped into a fighting stance with a can of bug repellent in her hand, tore off the lid and began spraying Paul.

  "A stronzo, you think you're gonna scare him with a can of Raid?" Mom coughed, fanning her nose. She raised her arm, turned her knuckles at JoAnn and shook her hand. "Allocco!"

  "Give me that damn thing." I grabbed for the can.

  "He has a big bug on his shoulder!" JoAnn yelled, yanking the can free. A cloud of noxious fog followed it. "Grab a flyswatter, somebody!"

  "Yeah, grab one, will ya, Susan?" Mom said, still shaking her hand at JoAnn. "So I can knock some sense into la allocco with the can in her hand."