Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series

by Livia J. Washburn

“How do you know?” Donovan asked without taking his eyes off the screen. He seemed as glued to the photograph as I was.

  “I…I don’t know how,” I told him. “But I’m certain of it. I just am.”

  “You’re the one who’s been in contact with Eamon,” he said. “Maybe that gave you some sort of connection with the talisman.”

  “It’s not j-just that. How many g-green falcons can there be in the world?”

  “That’s a good point. Let’s look at the other attachments.”

  He left the first picture open and clicked on the other two in turn. The first picture had been a fairly straight-on shot, taken at what appeared to be only a few feet away. The second was angled more to one side, not actually a profile but turned so that we could see more of the falcon’s right side. That made the beak seem even more prominent…and dangerous. It looked like the falcon could tear a person’s flesh or pluck their eyes out with it. That thought made a tiny shudder go through me.

  “Are you all right?” Donovan asked. He must have felt the reaction.

  “Yes. He just looks…d-dangerous.”

  “There’s a reason they’re called birds of prey. Look at those talons.”

  He pointed at the third photograph, which had been taken from farther away, so that all of the falcon was visible. The talons looked menacing, all right, long and sharp and deadly. At the moment they were curled around a short length of gnarled wood that served as a perch, but I could easily imagine them ripping and rending as the falcon plummeted out of the sky to attack without warning.

  The perch was attached to a base of polished dark wood. It sat on what appeared to be a mantel above a stone fireplace. That struck me as being a little rustic for a Las Vegas casino, but I’d never been in a place like that so I didn’t know for sure what you’d find there. The rest of the room wasn’t visible in the photograph.

  “What does the e-mail say?” I asked. “Who took these p-pictures?”

  “It just says that they were provided by an informant,” Donovan said as he clicked back over to the open e-mail so I could read it for myself. “I imagine the guy wants to remain anonymous. My guess is that he works at the casino and had occasion to see the bird. He’s probably provided evidence to the detective agency on other cases.”

  “What s-sort of evidence…Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Donovan said with a smile. “What happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas, especially when there are cheating spouses involved.”

  “What do we d-do now?”

  “I’m going to reply to this e-mail and tell the head of the agency to get as much information as he can about where the falcon is located and exactly who is in possession of it. I’m going to offer him a bonus if he can get it to me by the end of the business day.” He looked at the door and shook his head. “Looks like I’m going to have to hire somebody to repair that door after all.”

  “Why?”

  “Because as soon as we can get a connecting flight through Houston or DFW, we’re on our way to Las Vegas.” He grinned and added, “Vegas, baby.”

  “B-Baby?” I echoed.

  “Yeah. Like Joey would say on Friends. Or actually I think it was London, baby, but we’re going to Vegas, so…My high school girlfriend was obsessed with the show,” he added with a shrug.

  “Oh,” I said. For a second I thought he had gotten carried away and actually called me ‘baby’. That wouldn’t have been acceptable. We were working together to resolve a painful, tragic situation. That was all. Maybe we could be considered friends, but even that would be a stretch.

  “We’d better eat before the food gets completely cold,” he said as he pulled the plate with his half of the omelette toward him. “It’s liable to be a busy day.”

  o0o

  Donovan was right about that. He used the computer to get us seats on a flight from Corpus Christi to Dallas-Fort Worth, then booked us onto a connecting flight from DFW to Las Vegas that would arrive at four o’clock in the afternoon, Nevada time.

  I had packing to do, so I got started on that as soon as I’d woken up Beth to tell her what was going on. I felt bad about disturbing her sleep, but she needed to know I was leaving. I asked her if she and Taylor would mind looking after Matilda while I was gone.

  “Of course we won’t mind, don’t even think twice about that,” Beth assured me. “Matilda’s a real sweetie, you know that. She’s not any trouble. And I don’t have to be at the hospital tonight, so when Taylor gets in I’ll fill her in on everything that’s going on.” She paused. “Speaking of going on…”

  “Yes?”

  “You do realize that you’re jetting off to Las Vegas with Donovan, don’t you? One of the most romantic towns in the world?”

  “It’s Las Vegas,” I said. “It’s not P-Paris.”

  “There’s got to be a reason so many people get married there.”

  “There is. It’s called b-booze. I’m going to be too busy to get drunk and haul Donovan into a w-wedding chapel.”

  “Okay. Just so you know what you’re getting into.”

  That was a fair comment, I thought. I didn’t know what I was getting into, not really.

  But I didn’t feel like I had any choice in the matter. Eamon wouldn’t have been drawn to me through time if the key to everything wasn’t in the book he had written so long ago. And since he was the one who had told me to find Cearul…

  “It’ll b-be all right,” I told Beth. “Donovan Cole won’t f-fool me again.”

  I wasn’t really sure what to take with me on the trip. It was almost winter here on the coast, a cool, often rainy time of the year. It wouldn’t be like that in Las Vegas, I was sure. A quick online check of the weather there told me that the expected high temperature today was 80 degrees, with a low of 55. That was the forecast for the next week, too, warm during the day and slightly chilly at night. I planned to pack accordingly.

  Once I had my bags ready, I turned to the task I really wasn’t looking forward to.

  I called my mother to tell her that I was leaving town.

  I worried that she would think I was running away because of the guilt I felt over what had happened to my father. I had told her everything about the events that had occurred in the realm of the witches’ council, and I hadn’t glossed over the part I’d played in my dad being trapped there. Not surprisingly, my mom hadn’t blamed me…or at least she said she didn’t. I wasn’t so sure. I had offered to stay with her but she had turned me down, insisting that she would be fine. A short time later, though, my brother Mark had moved back in with her.

  Ever since Donovan showed up with that ancient book, I had been debating with myself whether I should explain to her what we were trying to do. Donovan left that decision up to me. Ultimately, I had chosen not to tell her just yet, because I didn’t want to get her hopes up about my father’s possible return when our efforts might turn out to be a complete failure. Better a pleasant surprise than an unpleasant one, I thought.

  So as I listened to the phone ring in my parents’ house, I tried to figure out what I was going to say to her. The truth just didn’t seem to be an option.

  When she answered, I said, “Hi, Mom, it’s m-me.”

  “Hello, Aren,” she said. She sounded glad to hear from me. “What are you up to today?”

  Oh, I’m about to jet off to Las Vegas with a handsome warlock to find a thousand-year-old green falcon that’s really a powerful magic talisman. And by the way, if it works I’ll bring Dad home with me.

  No, I couldn’t say that.

  “I j-just wanted to let you know that I’ll be out of town for a few d-days. For work.”

  I would give Sherry a quick call before I left and ask her to back me up on that story if it became necessary. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind. At least I hoped she wouldn’t. Once again I’d jumped in feet-first without checking on everything beforehand.

  “Really?” my mother said. “Where are you going?”

  “Um, Las Vegas.” I
couldn’t think of a workable lie quickly enough.

  “Las Vegas? What in the world?” Her voice got suspicious. “That woman doesn’t have you doing anything tawdry, does she?”

  The fact that Sherry’s agency provided strip-o-grams bothered my mother, even though I had made it clear I never took such jobs and didn’t intend to. I said, “No, I’m not going to be a sh-sh-showgirl, Mom, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just a, uh, convention.”

  “You think I don’t know what goes on at conventions in that town? I heard stories about what happened at a teachers’ convention – “

  “It’s not like that. It’s…” Why did I even try to lie? I wasn’t any good at it.

  “Maybe you’d better not tell me,” she said. “I’d just worry about you. Just promise me that you won’t do anything foolish.”

  “I won’t come back m-married, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “All right, we’ll leave it at that. Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

  Not very long, I hoped, but I had no way of being sure about that so I said, “Not really. Probably j-just a few days.”

  “You’ll call me when you get back?”

  “Of course. Say g-goodbye to Mark for me?”

  “You don’t want to call your brother yourself?”

  “I don’t want to b-bother him,” I said. “He’s got plenty to handle these days.”

  My mother sighed, and that made me feel even more guilty. She probably didn’t mean for it to cause that reaction. She just missed my dad and was struggling to cope with his loss.

  “All right,” she said again. “Thank you for letting me know, Aren. Do you need someone to take care of your cat?”

  “No, B-Beth and Taylor will do that. Thanks anyway. Bye, Mom.”

  “Goodbye, dear.”

  A feeling of relief went through me as I hung up. I blew out my breath. That was one obstacle down.

  But there were plenty of much bigger ones still in front of me.

  o0o

  Donovan picked me up a couple of hours before our flight was supposed to leave. “You ready to go?” he asked. I could hear the excitement in his voice.

  “Ready,” I told him. I pointed to my two bags sitting on the sofa.

  Beth stood nearby with Matilda in her arms. She said, “This may be a stupid question, but can’t you just…I don’t know…cast a spell or something that will take you to Vegas? Why do you have to fly like…”

  “Like normal human beings?” Donovan asked with a smile. “We could do that, but it would use so much energy that it might take us a week to get over it. Not only that, every witch and warlock in Las Vegas would sense it and know we were coming.”

  “I get it. You’re keeping a low profile.”

  “Exactly. Plus Aren said she’d never been there before, so I want her to have the typical tourist experience.”

  I scoffed at that and said, “Most t-tourists don’t go to Vegas for the same reasons we are.”

  “No, they actually plan on having fun.”

  “It’ll be f-fun if we succeed in rescuing my father and your mother.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Donovan said. “I’ll get your bags – “

  “I c-can carry them.”

  “You get one and I’ll get the other, how about that?”

  We settled on that compromise. I hugged Beth and told her once again to say goodbye to Taylor for me, as I petted and hugged Matilda.

  “She’ll be sorry she missed you,” Beth said, “but she knows how important this whole thing is to you, so don’t worry about it. She won’t be upset.”

  I looked around the apartment. It had been my home for several years, and for some reason, illogical though I knew it was, I felt like I was leaving for good, like I would never set foot in this place again.

  We were going to be dealing with some dangerous forces, at least if everything went according to plan, so I supposed that was indeed possible. But I couldn’t dwell on it. I had to hope for the best.

  So I put a smile on my face, nodded to Donovan, and said, “Vegas, b-baby.”

  Chapter 11

  The first thing that struck me was the heat.

  That was almost what it felt like, too, a physical slap in the face that took my breath away as I stepped out of the airplane and went down the steps into the brightness that came from a cloudless sky.

  “Are you all right, Aren?” Donovan asked from beside me.

  “I didn’t know it would be this h-hot,” I told him. “The forecast said the h-high today would only be eighty degrees.”

  “It’s probably not more than seventy-eight right now.”

  “You’re k-kidding! If it feels like this when it’s almost winter, what’s it like in s-summer?”

  He grinned and said, “Hell. But it’s a dry hell.”

  That was it, I realized. The air felt like every bit of moisture had been baked out of it. I know all about the heat index and how higher humidity is supposed to make the air feel even hotter than it really is. That may well be true for most people, but I grew up on the coast where the humidity is sky-high most of the time, and to me this unfamiliar parched feeling was much worse. Plus Las Vegas is more than two thousand feet higher in elevation than Corpus Christi, so the air is much thinner than it is at sea level. It seemed like I had to suck down more of it to get enough oxygen.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Donovan told me

  “I d-doubt it.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to get used to it.

  We walked through the terminal at McCarren Airport. Our bags were carry-ons, so we didn’t have to go through baggage claim. Donovan had already made arrangements to have a rental car waiting for us, so we picked it up, put our bags in the trunk, and got in to head for the Strip. I’d never been here before and Donovan had, so he drove.

  He was paying for everything, too, which bothered me, but he had a lot more money to start with than I did, plus he had access to some of his mother’s accounts. I had promised myself that I would settle up with him when this was all over, but I didn’t know if that would be possible.

  During the flight here, he had filled me in on the follow-up report he had gotten from the private detective agency, since I hadn’t had a chance to read it for myself.

  “The Shamrock Casino is owned by a guy named Malcolm Flynn. His family’s been in the area since the 1930s, when the town wasn’t much more than a wide place in the road. It was later when the mob came west and decided to make Vegas into its mecca for gamblers.”

  “I thought g-gangsters owned all the casinos,” I’d said.

  He shook his head. “No, although there was a time when that was almost true. But Malcolm Flynn’s great-grandfather was a prospector who struck it rich by finding a vein of silver in the hills. With the money he made he bought real estate. At that time, land around Vegas wasn’t worth much. I don’t know what made him do it. Maybe he had a premonition. But when the mobsters moved in, some of them had to deal with him to get the land they wanted for their casinos. He hung on to some of it for himself and set up his own operation.”

  “They allowed that? The gangsters, I mean?”

  “I don’t imagine they wanted to, but Jake Flynn was a tough old bird. He held on, and finally one of the newcomers, a guy named Passolini, figured it would be easier to join forces with him. They partnered up in the Shamrock. But Passolini was killed in the Sixties, and Flynn wound up with sole ownership of the casino again.”

  “That’s convenient for him.”

  Donovan shook his head and said, “If you’re thinking Flynn had him killed, you’re wrong. In fact Flynn, who was something of a loco old cowboy by then, went after the guys responsible for Passolini’s murder. Shot up their place good, from what I was able to find out. After that everybody left him alone, because the guys who had rubbed out Passolini were acting on their own and going against the orders of the big shots back east. Ever since then, there’s been a truce between the mob – or w
hat’s left of it – and the Flynn family. These days, the Shamrock is just another casino owned by a legitimate businessman. There are plenty of them in town. Quite a few of the casinos are owned by multinational corporations, in fact.”

  “You’ve been b-busy with the research,” I said.

  He shrugged. “I figured it would be a good idea to find out as much as I could.”

  “So this Malcolm Flynn isn’t a g-gangster?”

  “Not as far as I can tell. He is kind of a shady character, though. There are rumors about him being behind trouble at some of the other casinos. It’s even suspected that he may be responsible for the disappearances of some of his rivals.” At that point in the conversation, Donovan had paused and a worried look came over his face. “I think maybe it would have been a good idea for you to stay in Corpus Christi and let me look into this on my own, Aren.”

  “Forget it,” I said without hesitation. “Anyway, it’s a little l-late to be thinking about that now, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. I just didn’t want to leave you behind, no matter what my better judgment told me.”

  I had pondered on that for a while without ever deciding what he really meant. And now that we were heading for the glitz and glamor of the Strip, it was too late to worry about anything except what our next move would be.

  “The Shamrock’s a hotel, too, not just a casino, right?” I asked Donovan.

  “Right. It’s older and not as glitzy as most of the other places, but it’s supposed to be a comfortable place to stay.”

  “Are we g-going to stay there?”

  “I thought we would.” He glanced over at me. “I was able to book a room, but on such short notice I could only get one. And that was just sheer luck because somebody cancelled.”

  “One room?”

  “Yeah. And, uh, one bed.”

  I tried to keep my voice light as I said, “Well, there’s b-bound to be a sofa. Or a b-bathtub, at the very least. You’ll be fine.”

  “Sure.” His tone was casual, too, but I thought I detected an undercurrent of tension in it.

  Donovan turned the rental car onto a long, wide street flanked with big buildings. “Is this the famous Strip?” I asked. I used my mother’s word as I added, “It looks sort of t-tawdry in broad daylight.”