“I don’t see how,” my dad said. “Evil would suck our magic out. We still have it, although it’s seems to be temporarily broken.”
“Shit,” I muttered as I began to pace and think.
I really didn’t want to call on Baba Yaga. This was my territory and I was supposed to take care of it. I shouldn’t need my unstable, horribly dressed mother figure to have to come and bail me out of a problem. However, this wasn’t just a problem, it was a potential clusterfuck.
What to do… what to do…
Dang it, had my lying screwed up the balance? Was that possible? Plenty of witches lied or omitted. My dad was the world champion of evasiveness. However, I was technically still on probation from my stint in the magical pokey. Did I miss some of the fine print? I was well aware that I could only use my magic for the good of others, but fibbing? Damndamndamn.
I could fix this. It wouldn’t be pretty, but…
“I ate a house,” I confessed.
My dad, Sassy and Jeeves simply stared as if I’d finally snapped.
“Seriously, I did. In my defense, it was made out of cookies, icing, rainbow gum drops and chocolate.”
Still radio silence from the trio.
“I have to go and help the old witch fix it. It looks pretty bad. I didn’t even realize I’d eaten the door clean off the hinges, but it was chocolate. Of course, the old candy-cane wielding crone could have blasted my ass, but she didn’t. My restitution is to go back for a few days and help her re-bake the door, chimney and windowsill. I warned her that I couldn’t cook, but she called bullshit on that. She’s in for a hell of a nasty surprise.”
Silently Fabio approached me and placed his hand on my forehead.
“What are you doing?” I asked, slapping his hand away.
“Checking for a fever.”
“I’m a witch. I don’t get fevers,” I said and then decided while I was on a roll to continue. “I also have a secret stash of Ho Hos. Wait. I don’t have that anymore. Mac put them down the disposal except for the one we used for… never mind.”
“Should I dive into her head and see if she lost her brain?” Sassy offered, cracking her neck and popping her knuckles in preparation for Goddess only knew what.
“NO,” Fabio, Jeeves, and I shouted at the same time.
Sassy had a gift for pulling information out of people’s minds. However, she was dangerous under normal circumstances. Being at half magic, who knew what she would do to my gray matter.
“Explain,” Fabio said, still staring at me with doubt.
“I already did. But you clearly didn’t listen so I’ll make it easy for you.” Taking in a huge breath, I let it rip. “Since you bribed everyone to eschew carbs for nine months, I had to… ”
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sassy shouted. “What does eschew mean? And what the hell language is that?”
“It means to give up,” Jeeves told her sweetly as he stared at her with adoration.
“Is it French?” she inquired with narrowed eyes and twitchy fingers.
“No,” Fabio said, exasperated.
“Tell your dad about your magical food wand,” Sassy tattled since I was confessing my sins.
With an eye roll and a shake of my head, I ignored her jealousy at my fictional wand and focused on my dad. “I had plans to conjure up carbs, but then I had an epiphany while I was flying around the berry patch. I promised Lucky and Charm that I would be a good mom and stop eating shit.”
“Two questions,” Sassy said, weaseling her way back into the conversation much to Jeeves’ great concern for her well being. “Who are Lucky and Charm, and did you really eat shit?”
“If I was at full power right now, you’d be a two foot tall bearded troll,” I hissed at her.
“So you did eat shit,” she replied, clearly missing my not so subtle hint of threatening to turn her into a hobbit.
“Um… Sassy it’s time for our patrol,” Jeeves said bouncing up and down in fear for his love’s life. His gaze finally met ours for a nanosecond. “We’ll be in town if you’d like to join us.”
My dad nodded absently, but his attention was still on me. The look of concern on his face made me mad. I was finally telling the truth and he thought I was nuts. I mean I was slightly nuts, but I was being honest.
Jeeves picked up a reluctant and babbling Sassy and hopped off into the woods.
“So let me get this straight,” Fabio said carefully, staring at me. “You say you found a cookie house in the woods that belongs to an old witch. And you ate the house.”
“Only a section of it.”
“I see.” My dad nodded as if this were a normal everyday conversation.
“I don’t think you do. And by the way, the carb-eating fairies you hired were there. Do you have any idea what language they speak? I couldn’t make out a word.”
“I believe they speak French.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. This old witch, how did you know she was old? It’s virtually impossible to judge a witch’s age,” Fabio said.
I heaved a sigh of relief that he was beginning to believe me. “She had gray hair and walked with a cane—a candy cane.”
“Short?”
“Yes.”
“Her name?” he asked as he paled a bit.
“She didn’t give me a name,” I whispered, catching his discomfort. Holy hell on a stick, had I eaten a really evil witch’s house?
And then the conversation got better… Mac rejoined us.
Crap.
“I heard everything,” Mac said tersely as he walked up dressed in jeans, boots and a flannel shirt.
He looked like he’d just walked off the page of a Ralph Lauren catalogue. It made it a little hard to concentrate, but I ripped my eyes away from him and focused on the matter at hand. I was half tempted to yell Ho Ho because he looked so hot, but my dad being present thankfully put a damper on my sex drive.
“Eavesdropping?” Fabio asked, annoyed.
“Nope,” Mac replied with a raised brow. “Werewolf hearing… and you witches talk loud. You ate a house?”
I nodded and hung my head in shame. Playing with the zipper on my jacket, I wanted to cry. How in the hell did I eat a house? It was not sexy to have to explain to your mate that you devoured someone’s residence. “Yes. Not the whole thing though.”
“Well, there’s something at least,” Mac said with a grin. “Was it good?”
“Outstanding,” I told him with a small smile pulling at my lips.
“It’s not funny,” Fabio spat. “I only know of one witch who is crazy enough to live in an edible abode and she’s supposed to be dead.”
We were all silent, lost in our own thoughts of where to take this bizarre conversation. I was definitely sure that Cookie Witch was not a ghost. I’d recently had first hand experience with a ghost when my Aunt Hildy had returned to help save the day. The gingerbread sorceress was one hundred percent not dead.
“Cookie Witch isn’t dead,” I said firmly. “She touched my hair and it didn’t freeze me. She can’t be dead.”
“She touched you?” Fabio hissed.
“Um… yes?” I answered, getting nauseas. Goddess, what had I done? Was I the reason the magic was disappearing because I ate a damn house and let a debatably dead or crazy witch touch my hair. “Did I do this?” I whispered.
“No, you didn’t do this,” Mac insisted, glancing over at my father. “Did she?”
“We’re going with you to the witch,” Fabio said, avoiding Mac’s question. “Mac you’ll go in wolf form and I’ll cloak myself.”
“You can’t,” I told him. “Not unless you have some power hidden up your sleeve. Our magic is wonked.”
“Damn it, you’re right. You’re not going.”
“Um… yes I am,” I shot back. “I ate her chimney and I swore on witch’s honor that I would return.”
“What time are you meeting her?” Fabio asked. He was clearly very unhappy, but going back on witch’s honor was a no-no
of unheard of proportions.
“Noon.”
Checking his watch, he grimaced. “That gives us enough time to drive out to the berry patch since transporting could land us Goddess knows where.”
“All of that’s good, but I’m not sure I can find her place on foot,” I admitted.
“I can,” Mac said with a cocky grin that made me want to jump him and play tonsil hockey. “If you’ve been there, I can track your scent. I can find you anywhere, baby.”
“Goddess, that is so freakin’ hot,” I said, laying a big wet one on his smiling lips.
“Hello. Your father is standing two feet away,” Fabio groused. “While I understand that you are a grown, pregnant woman with a mate, I really do not want any solid evidence.”
“My bad,” I apologized, not meaning a word of it.
“You ready?” Fabio asked as he walked over to his SUV.
Mac and I followed behind. He took my hand in his. With a wink and a quick squeeze, he opened the door for me.
“Nope, but when has that ever stopped me?” I said as I climbed in.
“That’s my girl,” Mac said as he got in the back. “Let’s go find the Cookie Witch.”
“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” I laughed and let my head fall back on the soft leather seat.
“No more ridiculous than me shifting into a wolf or your father using magic to procure furniture that isn’t on the market or… ” Mac stated.
“Or me eating a house,” I added with a sigh.
“Or you eating a house,” he agreed with a chuckle.
Goddess, today couldn’t get anymore clusterfucky.
Or could it?
Chapter Ten
“You’re late,” Cookie Witch informed me as I sprinted up her lane, accidentally ripping the chocolate dipped pretzel gate off the hinges in my haste.
Sweating from running through the woods and trying to keep up with Mac’s wolf had sucked. Fabio had barely broken a sweat. He’d obnoxiously informed me it was his yoga classes that kept him in top form. Which led me to remind him he’d pilfered my yoga pants and had been dressed like a woman for the past few months of his exercise regimen. Fabdudio just grinned and shrugged leaving my pathetic ass in the dust. I was secretly impressed he didn’t give a crap about wearing women’s pants.
I knew I was late but my tardiness couldn’t be helped. It had been difficult to find the witch’s house even with Mac’s incredible sense of smell. Normally I didn’t sweat—I glistened. Today I was full-out sweating and it wasn’t pretty. I was way out of shape or maybe I’d become too dependent on magic to get me where I wanted to go. New item on my list: steal back all my yoga pants from my dad so I could work out like a human. My puppies would be healthier for it.
“Yep,” I agreed, handing her the gate with an apologetic smile. “Kind of forgot how to get here.”
She examined me critically and then limped to the end of her lane and reattached the gate with a wave of her hand. Cookie Witch’s magic did not seem to be affected like mine. Interesting. She glanced off into the woods and huffed and puffed a bit. Damn it, had she spotted Mac and my dad? I couldn’t spot either one of them and I knew where they were. Fabio had reluctantly agreed to stay hidden in the woods. Cookie Witch would be aware of his presence if he were too close since cloaking was impossible at half power. Crapballs, I needed a distraction.
“I’m ready to bake or possibly burn your house down with my cooking prowess,” I announced. I put my hands on her shoulders and gently turned her away from the woods while I escorted her little body back toward the house. Her limp was pronounced and I wondered why she wasn’t using her cane. Cookie Witch was solid—definitely not a ghost. My hands would have gone right through her and I would have been frozen like a block of ice.
Motherhumper, I hadn’t thought of that little possibility when I touched her due to my fear of her seeing Mac and my dad. Needing to stay focused and on top of the fact that I was providing room and board for two little beings in my belly, I promised myself to proceed with more caution.
“Not so fast, Zeldoumannawanna,” she said, twisting out from beneath my hands but grabbing my arm for purchase. “Why are you late?”
“Because… ” I hedged trying to come up with something that had a modicum of truth to it. It was still a possibility that my lying had something to do with the absence of magic in the area. “Because there were a few issues in Assjacket I had to deal with.”
“Assjacket?” she inquired with squinted eyes and pursed lips.
“Yep, that’s my town,” I told her with confidence. I knew damn well it wasn’t the real name of my town, but it was the Goddess’s honest truth that I called my new home Assjacket. The less she knew about where I lived the better.
“Can’t say I know Assjacket,” she said with a brow arched so high I would swear it touched her hairline. “What exactly do you do in Assjacket, Zeldoumannawanna?”
Deciding to play her game I raised my own brows. Of course my arch was not nearly as impressive as hers, but still, I was no slouch. “I live there. What do you do in the berry patch?”
Her chuckle made her seem like a sweet little witch, but I wasn’t falling for anything today. “I live here,” she replied with an answer equally as cryptic as my own.
“Mmmkay,” I said with an eye roll. “Now that we’ve bonded, why don’t we get down to business? And not to be forward or anything, but if you want me to, I could possibly help you out with that limp you’ve got going there.”
I waited for her to zap me or berate me.
She didn’t disappoint.
Her eyes narrowed and she hissed with displeasure. “You think you’re all high and mighty because you’re a healer?” she demanded as I backed away from her sparking fingers. “I don’t need your magic or your pity, girlie. I’m fine just the way I am and if don’t like it you can take your judgmental self home right now.”
“Actually, I can’t,” I told her. “I gave you my word on witch’s honor that I’d return and re-bake your house. Sorry for trying to help. Won’t make that mistake again.”
“Damn right you won’t, girlie,” she muttered and walked into her house leaving me on the stoop.
“Your manners are lovely. I didn’t want to heal you anyway. It probably would have hurt more than healing a Shifter with a cracked skull, you nasty old cow with a cookie house. Who in the hell did I screw over that I get to deal with all the bat shit crazy ones?” I muttered under my breath.
“Heard that,” she yelled from inside.
“Shitballs, didn’t mean any of it,” I yelled back and then blanched. No. More. Lying. “Great Goddess in a see through Speedo, I meant every word of it. And I’m sorry… that you heard it… not that I said it.”
Not lying was going to get me killed. Soon.
“Get in the house before the Goddess zaps your sorry ass for dressing her in a Speedo, Zeldoumannawanna,” Cookie Witch grumbled.
“Good thinking. Oh and my name isn’t really Zeldoumannawanna. It’s Zelda.”
Coming clean was good, but I had ulterior motives. I wanted her name. Fabio told me the he suspected she was actually a witch named Marge. Once I’d stopped snorting at the ridiculous name, he’d cautioned me that Marge was out of her mind and had been banished hundreds of years ago for all sorts of crimes. Or maybe she’d insulted one of the Baba Yaga’s outfits. He couldn’t remember…
That didn’t exactly help in gauging how dangerous she might be, but it was all I had to go on. Since no one had heard anything about Marge for centuries, she was presumed dead.
“I knew that,” she replied.
“Do you have a name?” I inquired politely as I covertly pinched off a little of the door frame and popped it in my mouth.
“I do.”
“And?”
“And I’ll tell you in good time,” she snapped, ending the getting to know you part of our conversation.
The inside of Cookie Witch’s house was equally as magica
l as the outside. Thankfully it wasn’t edible or I would have been in enormous trouble. The furniture was squishy and cozy—overstuffed chairs in brightly colored stripes and florals. Puffy ottomans with painted ceramic legs were dotted all over. The hardwood floors were painted in a faded cornflower blue and white checkerboard pattern and the stone fireplace had shimmering glass beads embedded in the rock.
“Oh my Goddess,” I gushed, fingering a lamp trimmed in sparkling feathers and beads. “This is beautiful. Where did you get this stuff?”
“Made it,” she grumbled, yanking pots and pans out of the cherry wood cabinets.
“With magic?” I asked, attempting to help only to be swatted away.
“With my hands,” she shot back with that eyebrow cocked up again. “Already told you once girlie that magic doesn’t solve everything. In the end, very little can be solved with magic.”
I shrugged noncommittally and wandered around her small house looking for clues. Of what, I had no idea, but I was gonna use my time wisely. Maybe the lurking fucking evil was here. Or maybe Cookie Witch had plans to bake me into a big cookie to replace her door I ate.
Goddess—that was certainly a heinous thought. She was definitely mean and cranky enough to do it. “Are you going to bake me into a cookie door?” I asked, figuring we should get everything out on the table.
“No, girlie. Not today. I only bake people into doors on Thursdays.”
Well, that was certainly a relief—kind of. She had a gleam in her eye. Was that humor or batshit craziness? I made a mental note never to come here on a Thursday on the off chance she was serious.
“Do you hate being a witch?” I asked carefully. I didn’t want to piss her off more and make her rethink her Thursday rule, but since I was here. I might as well make the most of it. She was a mystery and something was compelling me to know more. She was a powerful witch who clearly had issues with magic. That was pretty messed up.
“Well, do you?” I asked again, when she did answer.
Magically Delicious Page 7