Witches of Skye_Reap what You Sow_Paranormal Fantasy

by M. L. Briers

  The sound of soft shoes on the flooring and that squish, squish, squish, flared the annoyance within Angela and made her even more determined to mount their prison break.

  The moment that Stan-Stan the bedpan man, as they called him, walked on by – she wrapped a hand around Dorothy’s fragile wrist and pulled her along with her towards that wonderful word that read; EXIT.

  ~

  ~

  ~

  “You brought your medication with you?” Angela asked, and her friend frowned.

  “Of course I did,” Dorothy berated her for even asking.

  Since they’d met four years earlier, over the stewed apples and custard that the care home was serving as a suitable pudding for the senior residents – which also annoyed her because she still had most of her teeth and felt penalised because some others didn’t. Angela had treated her as if she was slightly senile. Which she wasn’t, at least, she didn’t think she was.

  “All of it?”

  “There wasn’t that much; you make it sound like I have half of a pharmacy in my damn bag,” Dorothy snorted.

  “Well. You do rattle when you walk.”

  “At least I don’t creak like your dodgy hip,” Dorothy smiled to herself.

  “It does not creak … it…”

  “Grinds?”

  “Sometimes, sure, mainly when it’s cold.”

  “There you go then – you creak, and I rattle, and we’re … free,” Dorothy looked out of the window of the train at the beautiful scenery passing by. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off it since they’d left the urban sprawl of the city with its dark and dank buildings.

  She loved nature. She should have, being a witch meant that it was written in her DNA to respect everything about it – except spiders – she never much cared for them.

  She’d missed nature. Watching the squirrels and birds that sometimes frequented the gardens of the home from her window or the bench outside just wasn’t the same as seeing it in earnest, reaching out and touching Nature, being a part of it.

  She still sometimes thought of herself as sweet sixteen and rolling down the hill among the wildflowers with James Bellows…that boy was a wild one in anyone’s book, even a novice witch’s, and she couldn’t believe how quickly time had flown by to where she found herself – old – shrivelled – and waiting to meet the ancestors to take her rightful place among them.

  She wasn’t ready to die. She still felt the need to kick up her heels and have one last adventure in life. Not that she’d be doing much kicking up of her heels, she’d leave that to her more nimble friend.

  “Free…” Angela agreed with a nod. “All I can say is; I’m sort of going to miss playing tricks on the staff.” She gave a small chuckle.

  “Well, what else was there to do with our magic than cause a little mischief,” Dorothy gave a half shrug back.

  “Hunt the remote control as the channels turned over and over,” Angela grinned, remembering the annoyed look on poor Stan’s face. The man had taken a lot of stick from them over the years, and yet he’d kept going back for more.

  She guessed he really wasn’t that bad. She might even miss him, but, probably not.

  “Exploding stewed apples and combusting custard,” Dorothy turned her gaze towards her friend. She gave a moment’s pause for thought.

  “It’ll be fine,” Angela assured her.

  “We don’t even know where we’re sleeping tonight,” Dorothy said back in hushed tones so that nobody could overhear her. That had been a must in the care home when they were being mischievous.

  “With me…”

  The voice rang out from the seat behind them, and both women would have pushed up to take a look out of pure curiosity had the train not have been pitching a rolling along the tracks. Neither woman wanted to end their adventure flat on their pride and heading to hospital.

  Dorothy frowned at Angela, and the woman shrugged her shoulders. Neither said a word in case that voice wasn’t speaking to them.

  Sarah MacKenzie did push up to her feet, and she turned towards the older witches and watched as they eyed her with something approaching curious suspicion.

  “Nut job?” Dorothy said out of the corner of her mouth, and Angela rolled her eyes.

  “That’s not very nice,” Angela friend berated her, and she scowled.

  “I don’t need to be nice. I’m old. I don’t need to be murdered in my bed either,” Dorothy tossed back.

  Sarah walked around the seat and stood at the end of the bolted down table that divided the woman. Then she lifted her hands, palms facing each other, and drew a breath in as the small fiery orb formed between them – shooting out little bolts of orange charged energy towards her fingertips.

  Both friend’s turned to look at each other as slow to boil grins took their lips. Sarah let the magic slowly dissipate in her hands.

  “Looks like we found a new friend,” Angela said.

  “A third,” Dorothy wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Let’s not go that far, ladies,” Sarah said as she motioned to the seat beside Angela and the woman nodded. Sarah slipped in beside her. “But, I did just inherit an Inn in the mountains that I’m planning to refurbish, and I could use the company for … a few days?”

  “Maybe a little longer if we like it?” Dorothy pressed, and Angela rolled her eyes once more as Sarah giggled.

  “We’ll see how much trouble you cause,” Sarah said, unsure what the women were about, but she was kind intrigued to find out.

  She’d heard their chatter and put two and two together and come up with – witches in need. She’d felt their magic, and it was strong – if not a little rusty – so much so that she’d been able to push through their shields without much of a problem, still, they wouldn’t need those on the mountain – she hoped.

  “Trouble’s her middle name,” Angela said with a nod of her head towards Dorothy.

  “Tis not, it’s Celia, as well you know – Marjorie,” Dorothy bit back.

  Sarah had to wonder, as the two women eyed each other across the small divide if she was doing the right thing. Maybe they had family somewhere that was missing them. Maybe they were senile and lost in their own little world, and she was taking on more than she could chew.

  Or maybe, just maybe, they just needed to find themselves again.

  “Don’t call me Marjorie … you batty old bat,” Angela bit back.

  Whatever happened, Sarah didn’t think things would be dull with the two of them around.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ~

  “The shower’s spitting out brown water … again!” Dorothy announced as she walked into the breakfast room and headed towards the table by the window for her morning brew and a full English breakfast that she heartily tucked away every day.

  Angela eyed her over her coffee cup. It was true to say that the woman was showing a new lust for life, even in the way that she moved around since they’d got to the Inn there had been a marked improvement.

  There was magic in the air, and Angela liked the feel of the place. It felt like home – all welcoming and full of promise for each new day, and they might have only been there for a little under a week, but everything felt better – even her hip wasn’t grating as much as it used to.

  Things looked brighter, and colours seemed more vivid. Smells held more appeal and were crisper, the way that they used to be when she was younger, and well before the smell of disinfectant clogged her nose and lingered while she was eating.

  “I think it doesn’t like you,” Angela said, returning her coffee cup to the coaster on the fresh, clean linen table cloth that Sarah replenished every day from the stock that she’d found and laundered.

  The place really did have a homely feel about it. Like it wanted to be lived in, as if it needed to breathe in the life inside of it, and give back. There was definitely magic in those walls, and little doubt considering its occupants over the years.

  Sarah’s family had built it way back when and
had always lived there. Admittedly, it was an Aunt on her father’s side of the family, who hadn’t had children of her own and had left the place to Sarah when she’d died, but, it was still a family connection.

  Witches one and all. It felt like they still lived there.

  “How can a shower not like me?” Dorothy sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think you’re going senile.”

  “I think you should both eat up; we’ve got plans to make,” Sarah announced as she stalked into the room with a fully loaded plate in each hand and served them their breakfast.

  “Ooh, yummy.” Dorothy eyed the food with glee; she had found that shiny thing that had snatched her attention away from what she was saying.

  It wasn’t just a new lease on life that the woman had. Her appetite had increased tenfold.

  “I think you’re already senile, so we make a great team,” Angela snorted.

  “I think you should shut your yaps,” Dorothy offered back with something of a smug smile as she eagerly snatched up her knife and fork – more than ready to dive into her breakfast.

  “I think I should have left you with the prison warden and made my break for it.”

  “Ladies, please,” Sarah said as she walked back into the room carrying a rack of toast and her mug of coffee. She placed the rack down on the table and went to put her mug on the table cloth.

  “Coaster…” Angela said; flicking her wrist and using her magic to shoot one across the table right under Sarah’s mug.

  “Thanks,” Sarah said, parking her backside down in the chair and reaching for a slice of toast.

  “You’re welcome,” Angela smiled. “You know, it feels good to use my magic again – openly that is. Although, it still feels a little rusty.”

  “Much like your hip,” Dorothy offered back.

  The light of amusement was in her pale blue eyes as she stared off against her friend.

  “Have you taken your pills today?” Angela asked with a superior smile. “I like to hear you rattle when you walk; it’s much more civilised than a cowbell around your neck.”

  “Ladies, please…” Sarah tried not to laugh at their antics because she found it only seemed to encourage them, but she already loved their company, and they certainly gave each other the runaround.

  She’d been right. There was never a dull moment.

  “Go ahead, dear … the cow is chewing her cud; you’ll have a moment or two before she swallows to get the words out.” Angela offered with a sweet smile.

  Dorothy offered her a death glare, chewing faster, and then Angela jumped in her seat as the sting of the elder’s magic hit her on the backside.

  “You did not just…” Angela bit down on her annoyance and eyed the woman right back.

  Dorothy swallowed down hard.

  “Perish the thought.” The elder said, not really trying to look innocent of her crimes while Angela chewed on an invisible wasp.

  “I’ll call the local plumber to sort out the shower. I found a number in some of Aunt Chloe’s things. We’ll sort out that brown water in no time,” Sarah said; trying to distract the witches.

  She lifted a pen and made a note of it on the little pad that she carried around with her everywhere – she was getting quite a list of things that needed to be done.

  “Zap me again and see what it gets you,” Angela said, eyeing the woman over the rim of her cup.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dorothy offered; this time she’d said it as innocently as she could.

  Dorothy huffed before she turned her attention back towards Sarah.

  “Would you like me to do that, dear?” She asked, and Sarah looked like a goldfish for a long moment.

  “If you don’t mind.” She shrugged.

  “Of course not. I like to be useful…”

  “It’s been a while,” Dorothy muttered, and Angela ignored her.

  “And you did take us in,” Angela reminded Dorothy; while berating her with her eyes.

  “Yes, you did,” Dorothy smiled.

  “I told you last night – I like having you here.” Sarah meant every word.

  She actually hated the thought that they might decide to up and leave. Or maybe someone from the care home might track them down.

  “And we like being here,” Dorothy assured her.

  “More than you can imagine,” Angela agreed.

  “Good. Settled then. You’re staying … right?” Sarah eyed one and then the other. Both witches had satisfied little grins on their lips, and their eyes sparkled with happiness.

  “Right!” Angela said first.

  “Definitely!” Dorothy agreed.

  ~

  ~

  ~

  “Do you see what I see?” Dorothy asked as she craned her neck to get a better look at the young man that had turned up to fix the shower.

  Both women sat in the shade of the large rowan tree, not that it offered a lot of shade, but they didn’t want to be out in the glaring sunshine and get even more wrinkles from squinting too much and for too long.

  “I still have my eyesight … thank the Goddess,” Angela shot back as she too craned her head on her neck, moving it this way and that as she tried to take the whole of him in.

  He was one big muscle man. Good looking too and both ladies enjoyed what they saw.

  With his broad shoulders and arms the size of Popeye, well, not quite Popeye, he was something to behold. It had been a while since either of them had seen such a perfect specimen of mankind.

  “He’s … perfect…” Dorothy said grinning.

  “You’re drooling …!” Angela berated her. “And he could be your grandson.”

  “I think I’d remember giving birth to a child,” Dorothy tossed back, looking a little sheepish. Angela twisted her head on her neck and looked at the woman as if she’d just popped out a set of false teeth and dropped them in her lemon water. “For Sarah, you old lush … have you been on the booze again?”

  “No, I leave that to you,” Angela shot back and turned to watch the sexy plumber man climb the steps towards the front porch of the Inn.

  “Oh, yummy – back in my day I could have covered him in melted chocolate and licked him from head to toe…” Dorothy offered, and Angela put her hand to her chest and groaned.

  “I think I vomited a little in my mouth.” She pulled a disgusted face. “Can you not say things like that, because it makes my mind shiver and want to shrivel into senility, just so that I never have to think about it again?”

  “Party pooper,” Dorothy hissed.

  “Tramp,” Angela offered back.

  Both women stood as one when the man walked out of sight towards the front door.

  “Race you around the bush to get a better view,” Dorothy said with a teasing smile.

  “My hip says bite me,” Angela tossed back.

  “You’re too old to say bite me,” Dorothy berated her.

  “You’re never too old for anything much, and if you think you are, then you’ve already lost your zeal for life,” Angela said, quick to move off to a better location.

  “True…” Dorothy said, before she realised that the witch had gone without her.

  His Mate – Seniors can be found on Amazon, and a box set of the first three books is available.

  Happy Reading!