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

by Livia J. Washburn

  “That’s because you can’t see all the lights. Trust me, it’s a lot more impressive at night.” He chuckled. “But even then, the place has a certain air of tawdriness about it. I mean, what else would you expect from Vegas?”

  “Is this what they call the city that n-never sleeps? Or is that New York?”

  “I think that’s New York,” he said. “But night and day don’t mean much here, either. There’s a legend that they don’t have any clocks in the casinos because they don’t want the gamblers to know what time it is. Like most legends, there’s a grain of truth to that. It’s cooler at night, that’s the only real difference.”

  “That sounds good to me,” I said. I was grateful for the rental car’s air conditioning.

  Even if Donovan hadn’t mentioned that the Shamrock was older than most of the casinos in Las Vegas, I would have been able to tell that as soon as I saw it. It had an Old West look about it and was made to appear that it was built of adobe. The main building had four stories, and a couple of wings with two stories each extended back from the ends to form a U shape.

  “There’s a pool and tennis courts and a gym in back, inside the U,” Donovan said as he pulled into the parking lot that ran across the front of the building and along both sides.

  Although they weren’t lit up at the moment, I saw neon tubes outlining the edges of the building. There was also a giant neon shamrock on the front of the building, along with what I thought was a leprechaun in a top hat.

  “Wouldn’t want to have t-too much good taste,” I murmured.

  “What?” Donovan asked.

  “Nothing,” I told him. “Maybe we should leave the b-bags in the car and go have a look around first. What do they call it in the w-war movies?”

  “Reconnoitering,” he said. “That sounds like a pretty good strategy to me.”

  He found a place to park. He would have come around and opened my door for me, but I had it open first and got out to join him. I was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved blouse, and even so I felt a little overdressed, judging by the people I saw going in and out of the Shamrock. Most of the men wore cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts, and the women were showing a lot of skin, even the ones who probably shouldn’t have.

  We walked through big glass double doors into an air-conditioned lobby. The cool air felt good to me, even though it was still too dry. My sinuses weren’t used to it. They ached slightly and made my head hurt.

  Other than that I felt surprisingly good. Plane rides usually made me sleepy, but not this one. I was wide awake and felt like I could keep going for hours.

  The desk was to our left, but we weren’t ready to check in yet so we kept going across a granite-floored lobby, past a couple of old-fashioned open elevators. Also to the left, beyond the desk, was a restaurant called The Shamrock Grill. A bar called simply The Pub was to the right, just before the entrance to the casino itself. Doors on the far side of the lobby led to an auditorium, according to the signs next to them.

  I nodded toward the auditorium and said, “Is that wh-where they have the shows?”

  “Yep, I guess so. Maybe we can catch one of them while we’re here.”

  I didn’t really care about that. Lounge singers, comedians telling off-color jokes, and scantily-clad showgirls didn’t hold all that much appeal to me, especially since we were here on business, not pleasure. I didn’t care if I had the typical Las Vegas tourist experience or not.

  All I really wanted to experience was getting my dad home safe and sound.

  “Let’s take a look around the casino,” Donovan suggested.

  “And k-keep our eyes open,” I said quietly.

  “You think I haven’t been already? I want to spot that green bird just as much as you do.”

  Even though it wasn’t as large and flashy as most of the other establishments in town, the Shamrock was still pretty big, and we had no idea where Cearul might be. We would have to search and maybe ask some carefully phrased questions of the staff. And hope that luck would be on our side.

  Of course, that was the same thing that nearly everybody else here was hoping, I reminded myself as we entered the casino. They just had different goals in mind for that luck than we did.

  Long rows of slot machines lined the entrance on both sides, and someone stood or sat at each machine, feeding coins into it and pulling the lever that led the machines to be called one-armed bandits. The ranks of players included just about every type I could think of, from little, blue-haired old ladies to fat, red-faced tourists to weary businessmen in suits with their ties loosened. I leaned closer to Donovan and said over the racket, “It’s just like you s-see it on TV. I thought that was all just clichés.”

  “Things become clichés because they’re true,” he said.

  The room was huge, bigger than it seemed like it should have been from looking at the building outside. I’d heard of witches who carried bags that were bigger on the inside than the outside, but that was magic. This was just Las Vegas, I thought.

  I saw roulette wheels, blackjack tables, poker tables, pieces of gambling equipment that I didn’t recognize and had no idea what they did or how you were supposed to play on them. I felt like a real innocent. Being a port city, Corpus Christi had always seemed rather cosmopolitan to me, but now I saw that I was wrong. Vegas was gaudy and trashy and I didn’t particularly like it, but it had an undeniable air of excitement and sophistication about it, even though I was cynical enough to think that was probably phony, just a façade for the tourists.

  Whatever, it worked. You couldn’t walk around the casino without your pulse pumping a little faster. At least I couldn’t.

  My heart really would have raced if I had spotted the object of our search, but I didn’t. I remembered the photos we had looked at in my apartment that morning. There was no fireplace in here.

  “I suppose it would have been hoping for too much to find the talisman right away,” Donovan said. Even though we were side by side, he had to raise his voice a little to be heard over the clanging bells, the exultant shouts of winners, the despairing moans from the losers, and music playing over loudspeakers somewhere.

  “You’re right,” I said. “But it was p-possible – “

  A loud voice from behind us interrupted me. It said, “Luck! I need me some luck, doggone it!” Someone’s hand closed roughly around my arm. “And I see just the pretty lady I need to give it to me, right here!”

  Chapter 12

  I let out a startled yelp as the man who had grabbed my arm pulled me around to face him. He was big, with a broad face that reminded me of a bulldog. The bright lights in the casino reflected off his bald head. He started tugging me toward a nearby table, saying, “I need me a sexy little girl to blow on my dice, honey, and you’re it! Just one little puff and I’ll cut you in on my winnin’s.”

  “Let m-me go,” I told him as I tried to pull my arm free from his grip. I didn’t stand much chance of doing that. He was strong as an ox and built about like one, too.

  “Aw, take it easy, sweetheart. This won’t take but a minute and then we’ll both be rollin’ in dough.”

  I didn’t want to roll in anything with this guy, not even money. Where was Donovan? I looked around for him, wondering why he wasn’t stopping this big oaf from manhandling me, but I didn’t see him. Then I felt a surge of anger at myself.

  I didn’t need Donovan Cole to protect me. I didn’t need anybody.

  I looked down at the long, sausage-like fingers wrapped around my arm, and I concentrated. My captor dragged me another couple of steps toward the dice table, but then he yelled, “Yeow!”, jerked his hand away from my arm, and backed away from me, stumbling a little.

  “Darlin’, I’ve heard of hotblooded gals, but you take the cake! Feels like you nearly burned my hand off! How’d you do that?”

  I wasn’t sure myself. The reaction had been an instinctive one, and causing his hand to get hot had required almost no effort on my part. I just thought about it, and i
t happened.

  That was new, and sort of disturbing, to tell you the truth.

  I backed away from him, saying, “Just leave me alone, p-please.”

  “Aw, you don’t have to be scared of me, honey. I’m harmless. I’m just a big ol’ teddy bear. Come on, blow on my dice.”

  “That’s all you w-want?”

  “One quick puff,” he said again. His voice dropped some and lost most of its bluster. “I could use the luck, sweetheart, I surely could. I’m almost tapped out.”

  I looked around for Donovan but still didn’t see him. Where in the world had he gone?

  Along with worrying about that, I found myself almost feeling sorry for the gambler. I didn’t like the way he had grabbed me, but I supposed he had just gotten carried away. A lot of people get swept up in the excitement when there’s money at stake…especially if their stake is small. I knew that feeling.

  I drew in a deep breath through my nose and said, “All right. Show me the dice.”

  A big grin broke across the guy’s face. When the man in charge of the table called to him, “Are you gonna throw or not, buddy?”, he looked around and nodded enthusiastically.

  “You bet I am, now that I got Lady Luck on my side!”

  “My name’s n-not Lady Luck,” I told him as he scooped up the dice. “It’s Aren.”

  He held out his hand with the dice resting on his broad palm and said, “Well, you just blow right on there, Erin.”

  I didn’t bother to correct him. I leaned over slightly and blew on the dice. One quick puff of air, like he’d said. Still grinning, he turned around, shook the dice in his hand, and said, “Here we go!”

  “What do you need to g-get?” I asked.

  “Eight’s the point! Eighter from Decatur!”

  He threw the dice.

  I watched the little cubes roll and tumble down the long table toward the padded backstop at the end. They hit it, bounced off, and rolled over a couple of more times before coming to a stop.

  Funny thing, though. While they were going through those last couple of rolls, the dice seemed to slow down. I could see the spots on them as they turned, just as clear as could be. I saw one of the dice come up on an edge and then momentum carried it on over so that four black spots showed on the top side. The other die was still moving, lifting so that it rested on one corner and seemed to poise there, ready to fall either way.

  Without thinking about it, I gave it a nudge.

  Not physically. I never moved. But it was like I reached out, touched the die with my finger, and caused it to fall so that it landed with a four showing, giving the man the eight he needed.

  For a second I thought I’d imagined the whole thing. Then I heard the gambler whooping in excitement. He pounded a hand against my back, staggering me a little.

  “Look at that, honey! Look at them beautiful fours! You ever seen anything prettier in your whole life?”

  The man in charge of the table shoved a stack of chips toward the guy.

  “I’m glad you w-won,” I told him. I wasn’t sure why I’d helped him. Maybe it was the note of desperation I had heard in his voice. I knew about desperation.

  I started to turn away. He snagged my arm again and stopped me.

  “I gotta keep goin’ now that my luck’s turned,” he said. “And you gotta stay and help me, Erin.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I have things to d-do.”

  “But you don’t understand! This is important.”

  “So is my b-business,” I told him. I looked down pointedly at his hand on my bare flesh. “Now, are you going to let me g-go, or…?”

  He jerked his hand away, obviously remembering what had happened before. “Hey, there’s no need for that trick,” he said. “But I could really use your help.”

  I shook my head and again said, “Sorry.”

  He didn’t try to stop me when I turned away this time. I hoped he had enough sense to quit while he was ahead, even if it wasn’t by much, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

  The crowd parted a little in front of me, and through the gap I saw Donovan. I came up to him and asked, “Where have you b-been?”

  “I was around,” he said. “Keeping an eye on you.”

  “Didn’t you see that g-guy grab me?”

  “Sure I did.”

  “And you didn’t think you should step in and help me?”

  “I wanted to see what you would do.” He shrugged. “It looked like he let go of you pretty quickly.”

  “No thanks to you,” I said disgustedly. “I had to m-make him let go.”

  “And how did you do that?” Donovan asked as he took my arm and steered me toward a somewhat quieter alcove.

  “I don’t know. I just made his hand get h-hot somehow.”

  “Have you ever done anything like that before? No spells, no mystical gestures, nothing?”

  I frowned and said, “Well…no. I just th-thought about it.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m not surprised.”

  “What are you t-talking about?”

  “Your powers work better than ever here. I thought they might.”

  “Why?” I asked. I was still a little annoyed with him, but I was more intrigued now by whatever he was trying to tell me.

  “Why did I think so? Or why do they work better?”

  “Just explain it to me, D-Donovan.” Exasperation was starting to win out over intrigue.

  “All right,” he said with a smile. “Salt.”

  That just made me shake my head in confusion. “What?”

  “Salt. Think about it. Salt and magic don’t mix, do they?”

  That was true. Witches don’t care for salt. Traditionally, no supernatural beings do. That’s why you can trap a witch in a ring of salt.

  “And what’s in the air along the coast?” Donovan went on.

  “Salt, but…That’s crazy! There’s not enough salt in the air to b-bother us.”

  “You’re just used to it, that’s all,” he said. “But it does have a slight inhibiting effect on your powers. When you used them, you just didn’t know any better because you didn’t have anything to compare it to.”

  “That doesn’t m-make any sense,” I said. “Your m-mother is powerful enough to be on the witches’ council. Why would she live in a p-place that weakens her powers?”

  “She learned how to compensate.” He shrugged. “And she likes it there. So do I. So do all the other witches and warlocks who live along coastlines, the ones who know about the effect and the ones who don’t. Besides, the sea has a certain mystical energy of its own that we can draw on. That helps make up some for what the salt does, I suppose.” He put a hand on my arm. “But right now, you’re more powerful than you’ve ever been, or at least you’re able to use your power more effectively. That’s why all you had to do was think about something to make it happen.”

  “Then why don’t I just think about the t-talisman and lead us right to it?” I asked.

  “That’s a good question. I’ve been trying to sense it ever since we set foot in this place, and so far I’m getting nothing. Either it’s not here after all and we came all this way on a wild goose chase, or…”

  He didn’t finish, but I thought I knew where he was going. “Or else it’s shielded somehow.”

  “Yeah. Which would mean that whoever has it also has powers and probably knows what it is.” Donovan shook his head. “If that’s the case, he won’t want to give it up.”

  “We’re not going to g-give him a choice,” I said. “We need that bird, and we’re going to get it.”

  o0o

  I was a little annoyed with Donovan for not warning me ahead of time about how the lack of salt in the air would affect me. It made me wonder what else he knew that he wasn’t telling me.

  But I couldn’t afford to worry about that now. We had to keep looking for Cearul.

  We made the rounds of the casino and didn’t find anything that looked like the background we’d seen in the photographs.
There were still a lot of places to search.

  “We should take a look in the b-bar,” I suggested. “If it’s supposed to be an Irish p-pub, there could be a fireplace in there.”

  “Good thinking,” Donovan agreed. “Come on.”

  We left the casino and walked back through the lobby to the bar. It was busy, too. There was a lot of dark wood and subdued lighting, which was sort of counter-acted by the glare from a big-screen TV showing a soccer game that no one seemed to be watching. Dartboards hung on the wall here and there, too, but no one was playing. Clearly, people came here for one reason and one reason alone: to drink. Plenty of that was going on.

  “No fireplace,” Donovan said. It didn’t take either of us very long to establish that.

  “Maybe they have another l-lounge somewhere else in the hotel,” I said.

  “Could be. We’ll ask around.” He paused, then said, “Don’t get discouraged, Aren. We really just got here, after all.”

  “I’m not d-discouraged,” I told him. “We’re just getting started. Let’s have a look in the restaurant.”

  That didn’t pay off, either. The restaurant had a rustic steakhouse look about it, which certainly could have included a fireplace but didn’t. A hostess asked us if we wanted a table, but Donovan shook his head and said, “No, we were just checking to see if our friends had gotten here yet. I guess they haven’t.”

  “I can check our reservations list…” the woman offered.

  “No, that’s all right, we’ll just drop by later.” Donovan put a hand on my arm. “Come on, hon. We’ll go wait in the casino.”

  The hostess didn’t argue. Nobody who worked here would ever object to somebody going into the casino to lose money.

  As we strolled back into the lobby, I said under my breath, “Hon?”

  “A lot of people come to Las Vegas to get married, you know.”

  “So I keep b-being told. I’m not interested in getting married.”

  “Well…good. Because neither am I.”

  He didn’t sound totally convincing. I told myself it didn’t matter. It took two to tie the knot.