by Heather Long
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Robyn Peterman. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Magic and Mayhem remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Robyn Peterman, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Bridget’s Witch’s Diary
Witches of Mane Street Book 2
Heather Long
Contents
Bridget’s Witch’s Diary
THEN…
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About the Author
Also by Heather Long
Bridget’s Witch’s Diary
How much mischief can a witch with misfiring magical mojo get into? Plenty…
Life in Assjacket seems to have achieved an odd normal—if living with a former skunk turned into her professor lover and raising a hot-tempered teenager with out of control magic can be called normal. Bridget wants to embrace her new life except…déjà vu is driving her crazy.
Not to mention she still has to satisfy a deal with the vampires, please the Baba Yaga, get Rika’s wild magic under control, oh and—just in case there wasn’t enough on her plate, she has to learn to compromise with Martin, lest he skunk out on her again.
Impulse control has never been Bridget’s best quality. After Rika summons a highlander from the pages of her novel and declares her intentions to keep him, Bridget is pushed to the end of her tether. Then there’s that déjà vu. Maybe it’s just the repetitive nature of small town life.
Of course, when a witch shows up to take her highlander back, it will take Bridget’s odd little family working together to save Angus.
THEN…
Previously in THE WITCH SINGER…
Working for the vampires sucked, and not even in a nice way. When Mr. Nasty-Face—yes, I know that isn’t his real name, but it will do for these purposes—offered me a way out, I grabbed on with both fists and ran as fast as I could with one slipper on and one off. I hopped in my car, and high-tailed it toward Assjacket, West Virginia.
Along the way, I encountered a needy skunk. If one overlooked the fact he sprayed me—twice—then you might say it was the luckiest encounter ever. You see, the skunk turned out to be Martin, a gorgeous hunka-hunka man with a dark mop of black hair with a sexy white stripe. He’s a brilliant teacher, but even more, he’s my hot stuff.
Anyway, I digress, the whole point of coming to Assjacket was to find a way to unturn a vampire. If I can’t do it, I’m gonna be Mr. Nasty-Face’s lunch. BabaYoMama said she’d help—sorta—but I had to do a task for her first.
Oh, then there was Rika, the teenage moppet with a sock-it-to-you ability she can’t control. I have to teach her to harness her magic. No sweat, and not like I haven’t screwed up a hundred times in the past. How do you think I got here?
So, that was then…
1
Bridget
“C’mon, Rika!” Bellowing was my least favorite activity. In fact, the moment I had to raise my voice above conversational volume, magic swirled within me. With Rika, it seemed I waged a constant battle against decimating with my decibels.
“I’m not going to school!” The rebuttal carried down the stairs to the kitchen. “And you can’t make me.”
Like a red flag waved before a bull, the challenge sent fractures weaving through my tight-fisted control over my temper. After slamming a pan down on the stove, I marched my way up the stairs. When I flung her door open for dramatic effect, it bounced off the pile of laundry stacked just inside and whacked me right in the nose.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I slapped a hand against the wood to keep the door from assaulting me again. Great Green Goddess! It hurt like a…
“Don’t just charge in here like you own the place,” Rika said with a scowl as she whirled away from her desk. Dressed in ripped jeans, a flowy red top which bared one shoulder and matched the wild red of her ever-changing hair, the teenager took what could only be labeled a battle stance, right down to her clenched fists. On the desk behind her lay an open book—a very familiar open book.
The multi-colored pages were part of the reason I bought the book to use as my journal in the first place. “What are you doing with my diary?”
Wow, that came out scary calm sounding, even to me. The anger coursing through my veins which sent me rushing up the stairs slowed as ice sheathed my temper. There were only a few things I really couldn’t stand. Invading my privacy topped the list.
My recalcitrant witch-in-training seemed to get the message, because Rika paled and her vibrant red hair faded to an ugly ass orange. “I wanted to figure out one of the spells.”
Closing my eyes only blocked my view of her for a moment. There weren’t enough deep breaths in the world to ease the tension ballooning in my chest. “Come to me,” I sang the three words and bent the magic to my will. The book flew off her desk and into my hand.
When I looked at Rika again, chagrin replaced the rebellion in her stance. The orange hair began to flame around the ends. The spell I’d placed on her to contain her magical side effects held. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes took on a sharper color.
Yep, she was about to explode.
“How else am I supposed to learn?” Rika blustered, her defense shifting to full offense. “You’re supposed to teach me, and all you do is tell me to do my chores, and make me go to school. You don’t even let me…”
Boom!
The explosion engulfed the air around her and her hair flamed green and stood on end. If I weren’t so annoyed, I might have been amused. Rika clenched her fists and stomped her foot as she tried to get the flames under control. At least they weren’t actually burning her this time.
Martin chose that precise moment to stick his head into the room. “Problems?”
My heart did a little flip-flop. Martin’s deep, soulful brown eyes turned me into all kinds of chick flick mush. I adored his dark mop of black hair, even the white stripe which reminded me of his skunk origins. He had the longest, darkest lashes framing his gorgeous eyes. I’d be jealous, except I loved how he looked at me.
With Martin, I felt anything was possible—even dealing with the hormonal Rika and her misfiring magic.
“She’s a monster.” Rika snarled. Yes, the joy of the wild, unpredictable teenage years. “She won’t teach me. When I decide to take matters into my own hands, she acts like I’m the criminal.”
“I see.” Martin nudged his glasses up then looked at the book in my hands. He knew I kept a diary. Sometimes it was the only way to work out the problems plaguing me. Problems like how to undo the turn of a succubus into a vampire—have I mentioned how impossible that task had become? Or how onerous a weight it made sitting on my shoulders.
I’d been in Assjacket a month, and I was no closer to resolving the issue than I had been when Mr. Nasty-Face ordered me to fix it.
“Well, since I’m a monster, you’re grounded. You will go to school, then you will return and stay in this room.” I still sounded all kinds of ominous calm. I didn’t feel that way, but my voice let me do all kinds of tricks. When Rika opened her mouth, I made a zipping motion and it silenced her.
For a moment, her
eyes bugged out like a cartoon, and she stomped her feet again.
“Here’s another fun thought, if you don’t have anything nice to say, you don’t get to say it. Downstairs. Breakfast. Now.” The magic flooded out of me, and it took control of Rika like a marionette. With jerky motions, she stumbled past us then down the stairs.
If looks could kill, I’d be toast.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Martin slid an arm around my shoulders.
“Too far?” I had to ask because, dude, I was not dealing with this whole teenage thing very well. Rika picked fights over absolutely nothing, blew up like I’d committed a crime when I caught her doing things she shouldn’t be and, really, what did I know about being a teacher? I did good to make my socks match in the morning.
“Maybe, but you two need to find a way to talk and work together or you’re never going to be able to teach her.” The soft caress of his fingers against my bare shoulder had me turning into him, seeking the comfort his embrace offered. Martin didn’t hesitate to hug me tight.
“I don’t know how to teach her at all,” I confessed. I could tell Martin these things. He was my guy. He adored me and the feeling was mutual. Who would’ve thought the best thing to happen to me on that mad road trip from Texas to West Virginia would include being sprayed by a skunk?
“Yes, you do,” he said, confidence rolling off of him. Leaning away, he braced me with a hand on each of my upper arms. “You’re scared because she’s hot-headed, impulsive, and prone to acting without thinking. Sound familiar?”
“Are you telling me I’m hot-headed, impulsive, and prone to acting without thinking?” I’d pout, but I definitely resembled the remark. Not that I needed my lover to remind me.
“Potentially,” he said, then nuzzled his nose to mine. “It’s part of your charm. You’re also compassionate, feisty, and determined. So, tell me—are you really going to let a teenager defeat you?”
A growl rumbled in my chest, but his laughter was hard to ignore. “I need to go apologize to her.” I’d rather swallow glass.
“Maybe not apologize so much as explain why you were upset she took your diary…and maybe extend an olive branch. She wants to learn. That’s important.”
“She has no patience, no discipline, and she wants everything yesterday.” It frustrated the hell out of me. One of the first tricks to controlling magic was to control yourself. Singing brought me a singular joy, but because so much of my magic inhabited my voice, I had to keep a lid on the notes.
“She can learn it,” Martin assured me, even as he began to massage my shoulders. The strength in his fingers dug into the knots of tension and I closed my eyes, soaking up his caring. It worked better to soothe my soul. “You can, too. You know?”
“I’m not impatient.” The petulance in my voice betrayed me. When he grinned, I couldn’t resist returning the smile. “Okay, I’m impatient. I want out of this deal with the vampires, and I came here to solve my problem, not take on the problems of others.”
With a gentle tap of his index finger to my nose, Martin didn’t look away from my gaze. “Thus, you are the perfect teacher for the recalcitrant teen downstairs. Stop seeing her as an obstacle, and start seeing her as an ally.”
An ally? Was he serious? Clutching my diary closer to me, I made a face. I hated it when Martin was right. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” The constant contact of his hands gliding along my cheek or massaging my arms soothed the restlessness invading me.
“Make it all better, love me, even when I’m stubborn and keep making mistakes?”
“Because you’re a wonderful woman,” he told me, solemn and devoted. “You want to make the world a better place, and even as spoiled as you can be at times—you have a huge heart. It’s three times too big.”
“Way to soften the criticism.” Still, I couldn’t help glowing a little at his praise. Even if it all felt a little familiar, like we’d already done this. Had this very conversation. “Am I really screwing her up?”
“Nah. She’s a tough little cookie. Nearly as stubborn as you are. Fortunately, you have way more control over your magic. Go make a friend. Don’t think of yourself as a mom or a foster parent, but a sister. She’s going to aggravate you, don’t let her see it.” He gave me another hug and I sighed into his arms.
“You were an amazing mentor and teacher, weren’t you?” It had been his calling until he tried to escape it. “I’m still glad I met you now and not then…” If it had been him instead of Nana doing my training, I wouldn’t have him as a lover.
“Life twists and turns, we can’t regret our past choices as we are the sum of them.” He rubbed his chin against my hair. “Now, go on before she burns down the kitchen.”
Oh crap. The scent of smoke wasn’t Rika, it was the sausages I’d left on the stove. Hurrying away, I took the stairs two at a time, then launched into the kitchen in time to find Rika turning the stove off and scooping the breakfast meat out with a spatula.
She shot a glare in my direction, but at least the flames in her hair had settled. The orange had given way to soft gold with hints of purple working their way up from the ends. Odd, but kind of cool.
Miming unzipping my lips, I released the silencing spell. “Thank you for rescuing our breakfast.” Trusting Martin’s advice, I waited a beat and let the words sink in.
With a sullen look, Rika carried the plates over to the table and set them on the table. The house was a charming little thing, and I loved it—I’d never had a cottage in the woods before. Kind of like a fairytale.
Finally, the teenager pulled out a chair and sat down with a huff. She poured orange juice for me, for her and a third which was likely for Martin. He hadn’t followed me downstairs, probably letting me extract my foot without his backup.
Good man.
Annoying man.
Loving man.
“Fine, you’re welcome,” Rika said in a snappy tone which didn’t engender warm feelings in the heart.
Still holding my diary, I walked over to the table and took a seat. Instead of eating though, I focused on the kid who cut into her breakfast and did her damnedest to avoid my eyes. Martin was right about one thing—I had been looking at her as a burden, an obstacle in my way to solving my problems. Whether she was or not, it wasn’t her fault.
I could be a bigger person. A better witch.
Or I am so colossally screwed it doesn’t matter, so maybe if I help her it will be one less natural disaster I leave behind.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you and zapped your ability to speak.” Locking her powers had been necessary, the child exploded regularly and it was messy. The gold roots gave way to something bluish-green and it began to creep down to meet the purple. Rika kept eating though and didn’t look up.
Setting my diary down, I took it as a good sign that she was at least still listening and continued, “I will not apologize for being angry that you invaded my privacy.” Setting my hand on the diary I patted it lightly. “What I write in here isn’t just about magic, it’s about me, and what I am trying to figure out. Information is power.”
At that, Rika stole a look at me. Her eyes seemed to glitter with their own light.
“Yes, power. You don’t have enough control—yet—to try co-opting my magic. Not to mention, I don’t think you’re a witch singer, which means what works for me may not work for you.” Hence my biggest objection to teaching the raging brat…not a raging brat, Bridget. A teenager. Remember, teenagers suck as a general rule when you’re not a teenager and adults suck when you are. The internal pep talk didn’t help, but it did shove me back on track. “I have an idea, but I am going to ask your permission.”
The teen gave a little jerk and sat straight up. Yep, that got her attention. Heh. Adults don’t ask kids for their permission. Score one for me.
“What do you need my permission for?” Suspicion dripped from every syllable.
“Simple, I want to summon your familiar.” Until the words le
ft my mouth, I hadn’t realized that was exactly what I planned to say. Yet at the same time, I felt like I’d said this before. The déjà vu rippled over me and left goosebumps in its wake.
“Really?” Careful excitement climbed in the teen’s voice and she set down the fork.
“Really. You were right, I’m supposed to be teaching you.” I raised a finger before she got too happy about my acknowledgment. “I was also right, you need more control in order to learn. So, we split the difference. A familiar can help you focus, and it can also help you measure your control. I can bind the spell containing your magic to your familiar—then when you have the control necessary, the familiar will know it and together you will be able to work your spells.”
“Does that mean the familiar will be in charge of my magic and my teaching?” It was an honest question, and the first one not marred by malice or rebellion.
“No, they will be a guardian to your level of control. I can’t be with you twenty-four seven, and you don’t want me to be.” For the first time since I broached the conversation, Rika and I were in perfect accord.
“No, I really don’t.”
Picking up my orange juice, I studied the glass for a moment. There was a smudge on the lip at the top. A finger print—probably from Rika setting the glass on the table. Yet, I felt like I’d seen the exact same thing before. Goddess above and below, the déjà vu threatened my sanity.
“Exactly so. I’ll cast the summon, then we’ll wait for your familiar to show up…” Didn’t I say this already?
“Why don’t you have a familiar?” A fair question.
“I told you.” Taking a drink of the juice, I still couldn’t shake the most unsettling of sensations. My gaze went to the diary, then to Rika, then to the food on the plate. Sausage didn’t sound remotely appealing, but at least it wasn’t burnt to a crisp…