by Scott, D. D.
STUCK WITH A SPELL
(The Stuck with a Series - Book 2)
By D. D. Scott & David Slegg
Copyright © 2012 by D. D. Scott. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
First Electronic Edition: October 2012
Smashwords Edition
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For all of you fabulous peeps wondering about the explosion that finished off The Stuck with a Series Book One - STUCK WITH A STIFF, here’s the scoop...
STUCK WITH A STIFF
Welcome Back to our Stuck with a Series World.
Happy Reading!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOTE FROM D. D. SCOTT
ABOUT D. D. SCOTT
BOOKS BY D. D. SCOTT
NOTE FROM DAVID SLEGG
EXCERPT FROM STUCK WITH SLEIGH BELLS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Holy hellfire!
I scrambled out of the kitchen with the rest of my guests to see what new calamity Aunt Liza had conjured up.
One would think the bestselling police procedurals I write would provide enough excitement in my life. But the fictional antics I dream up are nothing compared to living the next farm over from my crazy Aunt Liza.
No one would believe my award-winning fiction, written under the nom de plume Nicky Blane, could be based on the real-life shenanigans my Aunt Liza cooks up next door.
We found her standing next to a heap of twisted metal in the center of a circle of charred ground. Quite the contrast to the blanket of snow that covered everything else in sight.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Liza said nothing just blinked. Okay, she tried to blink, which must have been difficult and rather uncomfortable being as she had singed eyebrows and only a smattering of eyelashes left. Her plaid hunter’s cap smoked and sizzled right along with her apocalyptic mess.
Despite my yelling, she still wasn’t focusing on me or the question I’d barked at her. Apparently, she was still dazed by her latest blow-up.
It took a second for my mind to register what the metal had once been. No. She didn’t, I thought, certain she wasn’t that far over the total nutjob line.
But then I caught what was left of the manufacturer’s label on one piece of smoking metal. It was the wreckage of the two rusting gasoline tanks that had been on our land since long before I was born.
Damn. She truly had lost all of her marbles.
Thankfully, Captain Allen, a thirty-year veteran of our Sheriff’s Department and now my Editor’s significant other, hadn’t yet felt the need to take out his handcuffs or unholster his duty weapon, though his hand was resting on its stock. I had a feeling that when it came to my Aunt Liza, he would always be duty ready.
“Well?” I continued, not about to let her weasel her way out of an explanation.
“I was just usin’ the support structure of the tanks to hang up a couple of dolls. I didn’t count on there being anything left in them rusty old things.”
“Uh...Hello, Genius! Gasoline is extremely explosive! Why would you even consider firing that cannon of yours at a gas tank?! Wait a minute. Did you say dolls?!”
“So what? Yes, they were dolls. I’m trying out a new spell on a couple of folks.”
She said this as though it were a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
“Let me get this straight. As far as you’re concerned, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with hanging Voodoo dolls on a gas tank and then annihilating ‘em with a 10-gauge shotgun?”
She cocked her head as if she were thinking about it really hard.
There wasn’t a single one of us standing there who didn’t know all kinds of major trouble resulted when her wheels were crankin’ that fast and furious.
“Yeah. I don’t see anything wrong with that,” she said, taking off her cap, dropping it to the ground, and snuffing out the last remnants of burning material with her pink rubber boots.
“What y’all should be concerned about, however, is that I think my spell may have gone a wee bit awry.”
CHAPTER TWO
Well, hot damn! Now we were getting somewhere! A spell! I was privy to a for-real spell coming from a for-real witch!
Okay...for the record, I’m not sure Nicky’s Aunt Liza is actually a witch. But she definitely tries and takes her attempts at becoming one to rather extreme but fabulous levels.
Totally good with me!
I’d been waiting on an opportunity like this forever! And I was over the moon to finally have the chance to see it! Oooo...speaking of the moon, I wonder if the fact that it’s going to be a full moon tonight figured into her planning and preparation?
There’s just so much about all of this witchcraft that I can’t wait to explore. It’s not every day that a fiction editor like me experiences more interesting action in real life than on the page. Come to think of it, I’m no longer just Samantha Aldredge, Editor Extraordinaire. I’m about to become a witch’s protege.
Well...if you’re allowed to job shadow a witch. Maybe I could be an apprentice of sorts. Kind of like on-the-job training. In the name of research of course. I mean, think about it this way...all great editors do their research. And they do everything possible to make sure their authors’ stories are authentic. It doesn’t get much more authentic than this, right?!
“So, tell us about these dolls, Liza. They’re actually Voodoo dolls? Or were Voodoo dolls?” I asked, thinking perhaps I should pull out my iPhone and record this so as not to forget one detail of awesomeness.
“Yes, that’s right. Voodoo dolls,” she said, sitting down on a wrought iron bench covered with snow.
She must have still been so damn dazed from the explosion that she didn’t care whether or not she was sitting on an ice cold seat. ‘Course, being as she was in the hot seat with Nicky and probably my Captain too, maybe the cold chill was a relief.
I followed her glassy stare, which was focused on what remained of the two Voodoo dolls.
Then it hit me. And oh my God did it hit me!
One of those extra-crispy dolls had to be representing my ex, Hank Aldredge!
What have I done?!
It wasn’t that I really believed Liza’s spells would work. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given her Hank’s wedding band. But now that I saw his partially melted ring around one of the doll’s smoldering necks, what if her witchcraft was real? And what if it did work?
There was no mistaking that Hank was a total asshole, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him seriously injured or worse yet, dead. And isn’t that the kind of energy that’s spread using Voodoo rituals?
But she’d just said something with this spell had gone awry.
Oh shit! I didn’
t know what the hell to think, let alone do.
A few days earlier, I’d had a conversation with her about our less-than-stellar ex-husbands. Her’s was a real doozy of a hot mess. Mine? Well, let’s just say there are princes and there are frogs. And he was the biggest frog of ‘em all.
Liza said she was planning to have a little fun with her former hubby, and she’d be more than happy to make it a two-for-one spell...if I was interested. Hell yeah, I was interested!
She asked me if I had any objects that belonged to or were associated with Hank. And I had just the thing. I’d kept his wedding ring. The bastard threw it at me right before storming out of our condo. I’d hung onto the absurdly expensive piece of broken promises with the intention of pawning it.
What could it hurt to let Liza play with it for a little while? So, I’d given her the ring.
Of course I thought she was more than a little off kilter, but what the hell. It wasn’t like I thought she was going to actually be able to do anything to harm Hank. Mostly, I just wanted to watch her at work. Who knew what kind of craziness she had up the sleeve of that hunting jacket.
As it looks now...she had quite a lot of crazy packed up in there. More than I ever imagined.
I don’t know much about Voodoo, but what I do know is giving me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Okay. What to do...What to do...
First, I had to get Liza alone so I could figure out what had happened versus what was supposed to have happened. I needed the details of what she was trying to do to our ex-husbands with her latest spell. And then, how exactly she’d screwed up the hexes on our exes.
The implications sent shivers through my already quivering body. I couldn’t imagine what the answers would do to me or to my nerves. Or...worse yet...what they’d done to our exes.
CHAPTER THREE
I laid in my hospital bed at the NYU Langone Medical Center looking out the window past the liquid that was supposed to serve as my dinner. Watching the fluid move through the IV tube hooked up to my arm, I struggled to comprehend what had just happened to me.
One minute I’m sitting in my favorite Manhattan eatery enjoying my entree, and the next thing I know, I feel this incredible burning sensation pressing into my neck, almost as if I was being strangled. But how could I be in the middle of being strangled? No one was close enough to me to have their hands around my neck.
I’d gasped, feeling a gigantic rush of air mix with the fire and heat pressing into my skin. Then another gasp, which caused a giant ham bone to lodge in my esophagus.
I can just imagine the headlines in tomorrow’s Post:
Top New York Literary Agent Hank Aldredge Chokes on a Ham Bone
That ought to sell some papers plus get quite a few click throughs for the online version. And I could use the publicity. Positive or negative.
Checking the readings on the gazillion machines I was attached to, a nurse interrupted my gossip rag reel.
“Now no worries, Mr. Aldredge, one of our Patient Care Representatives is in the process of getting ahold of your wife,” she said, while tapping my IV tube to get the liquid flowing.
Shit! I’d forgotten to update my insurance forms regarding my new ICE person. There was no way my ex, Samantha, would give a rat’s ass that I’d almost choked to death. And she definitely wouldn’t want to still be my emergency contact. Hell, she’d be disappointed she wasn’t responsible for my death.
It wasn’t as if I could stop ‘em from contacting her though, especially with this stupid tube down my throat.
Trying to get the nurse’s attention, I grunted. Oh God did that hurt.
I then flailed my arms as much as I could amidst the yards of plastic connected to my extremities. The results of that effort? The nurse simply cranked up my meds dispenser, mumbled how sorry she felt for me and left the room.
I was sooo fucked. Good thing I wasn’t on life support. If I was, once they got in touch with Samantha, she’d have ‘em pull the plug.
CHAPTER FOUR
“How did a gorgeous little thing like you decide to go into nursing?” I used my ultra suave Darryl Riley, sweet talking skills to jump start a conversation with the hot young thing checking my bandages.
I’d always been brilliant at sweet talk. Ask anyone. Except for my ex. Don’t ask her. Nothing I did sat well with Liza.
Seeing how much extra attention my condition warranted made me wonder if I should always be so vain. Perhaps not looking my best and being less than GQ ready had its advantages. This might just be another fantastic way to pick up great-looking chicks.
But wow, talk about a rather sobering experience. I was lucky to still be able to pick-up chicks period. Thank God for the fact I used plenty of product in my hair. According to my doctors, that’s the only thing that had saved me.
Decapitated. Oh my God! I can’t believe I was almost decapitated!
If it hadn’t have been for my super-strength Menscience hair-styling pomade, it would have been an “off with my head” moment.
“That bitch! What a total bitch!”
I blasted off with the first Queen of Hearts endearment, way too loud for a hospital environment. But with the second proclamation, I damn near catapulted myself right out of my intensive care, burn center unit bed.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, did I hurt you?” My bodacious blond bombshell of a nurse asked, looking as if I’d mortally wounded her by using the B-word.
“Not you, Sweetheart. I’m sorry. No, definitely not you, Baby.”
But just wait till I get ahold of my Bitch of an Ex, I thought. I never should have married that witch!
Screw the fact she made my nurse look like nothing special. Liza Spitznogle may be a real looker, but she’s also bat shit crazy. So damn crazy, I’d bet that my now fried scalp had something to do with one of that psychotic bitch’s hexes.
Well, she’d tried to hex me. I was sure of it. But none of her stupid-ass Voodoo spells ever worked like they were supposed to.
It didn’t matter how far I travelled to get away from her, she still fucked with me!
How the hell could I be in Sweden while she was down on the farm in Indiana, and I still wasn’t safe?!
“Brigitta Baby, I need to make an international call. Be a doll and get my cell phone out of my trousers, would you please?”
What I would give to have those trousers on right now. But, yeah. So much for dreaming. Thanks to Liza, I had nothing but nightmares. Very bad, Voodoo-based nightmares.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Let’s go get you cleaned up. Then we can discuss this,” I said, putting my arm around Liza and leading her up the back drive in the direction of her old pickup truck.
“I hope you’re not thinking about taking that shotgun with you.”
Judging by the sound of Nicky’s voice, he wasn’t kidding.
“I second that. In fact, I think I’ll just hold onto it,” Captain Allen said.
Go figure. I’m worried about what Liza’s already done, and those two crime stoppers are already stewing about what she’ll do next. Although, I couldn’t blame them for their concern. The woman was a total instigator of major disasters.
“Don’t worry. I’m not touchin’ Sweet Pea. I’m just taking care of Liza,” I said, then opened the passenger door so she could climb in.
Sweet Pea was Liza’s nickname for the arm cannon that accompanied her everywhere she went. Leave it to her to have a name for her shotgun. But I’d be willing to bet that Sweet Pea wasn’t the moniker either Nicky or my Captain would have chosen. Liza and Sweet Pea were nothing close to a Mary and her little lamb partnership.
“Why don’t you be a good host and get everybody else settled in for the night?” I suggested to Nicky.
He shook his head and kicked some snow, but then he did as I recommended and started to steer everyone back to the house. At least that was settled. Now, onto the witching hour maestro.
I’d expected Liza to raise holy hell when I suggest
ed that I drive, but she didn’t make a peep. I guess she was in more than just a mild state of shock, which didn’t make me feel any better about this situation.
Actually, if all of this wasn’t so surreal, dangerous, and possibly deadly, it might be funny. For all of the chaos the woman causes, there’s usually a ton of good laughs to be had too.
I settled in behind the wheel. Unlike most city gals, I do know how to drive a stick shift. But inside the cab, this damn thing looked like a big rig. I swear the shifter had to be three feet long. It appeared that wanting to drive Liza’s baby blue 1968 International pickup truck and actually driving it were two different things.
We lurched into first gear and started to roll down the steep drive. No power steering. Holy shitballs!
It took everything I had to guide us onto the plowed-out path without crashing headlong through deep snow banks into the woods across the road from Nicky’s farm.
No wonder Liza was so damn strong. Her truck wasn’t intended to be driven by the likes of me or any average woman. This ride was fit for no less than Zena, Warrior Princess.
Unfortunately, the turn into Liza’s drive was a helluva lot sharper than the rest of the turns I’d somehow managed to make. But I made it. Now, we had to wind our way up a steep hill and then slice to the right.
I had my hands full, but I was determined. And when I set my mind on something, I always find a way. Besides, I had to thaw out this woman’s troublesome mind and figure out what she’d done to our exes.