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

by Livia J. Washburn

  I was about to ask him what we were going to do next when I heard someone shout, “Erin! Erin!”

  The voice was familiar. Sure enough, it belonged to the gambler who had grabbed me earlier and nearly gotten his fingers burned in the process. It looked like he had landed in more trouble. He was being wrestled out of the casino by a couple of burly guys in suits. They wore name tags to show that they worked for the Shamrock. Security, no doubt…or bouncers, to be blunt about it.

  They were about to bounce the bald-headed gambler. My guess was that he had stuck with the dice and wound up losing everything, and then he’d kicked up a fuss about it. Now they were going to throw him out, and he’d be lucky if they didn’t beat him up, too.

  I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a little sorry for him. He looked drunk, defeated, and miserable as the bouncers dragged him along. Donovan put a hand on my arm and said quietly, “Aren, we’d better stay out of this – “

  “My lady luck!” the guy yelled, and then somehow he got one arm loose. He brought his elbow up into the nose of the bouncer on that side. Blood spurted. The other bouncer tried to take the gambler to the floor, but the gambler stuck his foot between the man’s ankles and tripped him. The bouncer didn’t go down, but he stumbled and lost his grip.

  That left the gambler momentarily free, and he took advantage of the opportunity to charge toward me like a maddened bull, yelling, “Erin, you gotta help me! Give me your luck, Erin!”

  Donovan wasn’t going to stand back and let me handle things this time. He took a step to move in front of me. The crazed gambler was a lot bigger, though, and from the looks of things, he was going to run right over Donovan. I tried to think of what to do to stop him…

  I didn’t need to. Before either Donovan or I could do anything, another man stepped in from the side, his movements smooth and seemingly unhurried but very fast. He caught hold of the gambler’s arm, twisted it up behind his back with apparent ease, and used his leg to hook the guy’s feet out from under him. The gambler crashed to the granite floor. The man who had taken him down dropped to one knee, planting that knee in the gambler’s back to keep him pinned to the floor.

  Then he looked up at me and asked, “What’s going on here?”

  It was Eamon.

  Chapter 13

  What went through me then was even more of a shock than what I’d felt when I recognized Cearul in the photograph on my computer that morning. This was in the flesh, not a collection of pixels. It wasn’t magic, either.

  Or maybe it was, because that was a thousand-year-old warlock kneeling there in front of me, I reminded myself.

  Oh, there were differences, of course, plenty of them. He wasn’t holding a sword. The tunic and cloak and sandals were gone, replaced by an expensive-looking gray suit over an open-throated shirt and a pair of shoes that probably cost more than I made in a year. The beard was gone, too, but that didn’t change the basic lines of the face. And the shock of sandy hair was almost exactly the same, as were the green eyes.

  He was Eamon, all right. I knew it as well as I had ever known anything.

  Before I could answer his question, the two bouncers hustled up. Blood still leaked from the nose of the one the gambler had elbowed. The other bouncer said, “Sorry, Mr. Flynn. I don’t know how he got away from us, but it won’t happen again. We’ll take him.”

  “It had better not happen again,” Eamon said as he got to his feet. He stepped back to let the two bouncers take charge of the gambler again.

  The poor guy really looked addled now as they hauled him to his feet and started marching him toward the exit. He looked back at me, but all I could do was mouth the word ‘Sorry’.

  “A friend of yours?”

  That question made me look at Eamon again. He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  I shook my head and said, “No, I n-never saw him until a little while ago. He wanted me to b-blow – “

  A smirk appeared on his face.

  “On his d-dice,” I finished through clenched teeth. “Why is he in trouble?”

  “The same reason a lot of people get in trouble in Las Vegas. He didn’t know when to quit.” He held out his hand. “I’m Malcolm Flynn, by the way. This is my place.”

  I took his hand. I didn’t know what else to do.

  If I was expecting some mystical connection, some dazzling display of eldritch energy, I would have been disappointed. His hand was just a hand. A warm, strong one, sure, but I didn’t sense anything else.

  “Aren McAllister,” I told him.

  “And I’m Donovan Cole,” Donovan said, extending his own hand.

  Flynn shook with him, too, and then said, “My apologies, Ms. McAllister.”

  “What for? It wasn’t your f-fault.”

  “No, but I like to think that the ultimate responsibility for my guests’ comfort, safety, and happiness lies with me. Do you have any idea why that rhino charged you like that?”

  “He had this idea in his head that I’m g-good luck.”

  “Looks like he was wrong, at least where he’s concerned. Are you two staying here at the Shamrock?”

  “That’s right,” Donovan said.

  “Well, enjoy the rest of your visit. Again, I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”

  He started to turn away. I stopped him by saying, “Mr. Flynn?”

  He paused. “Yes?”

  “Have we m-met before? You look awfully familiar.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw a frown appear on Donovan’s face. I knew it must look and sound to him like I was flirting with Malcolm Flynn.

  Flynn seemed to think that might be the case, too. He smiled and did that little eyebrow thing of his. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’d remember meeting you. I’m sure of it.”

  “Have you ever b-been to Texas? Corpus Christi?”

  “Sorry. I’ve never set foot there.” Still smiling, he added, “Sort of wish I had.”

  Donovan touched my shoulder and said, “Come on, Aren. We have to go.”

  He sounded a little irritated. I realized he was jealous. That both pleased and annoyed me. I wasn’t talking to Malcolm Flynn because I was attracted to him. I was talking to him because he was – or at least looked just like – Eamon.

  But of course Donovan didn’t know that. He hadn’t been there when Eamon appeared in my apartment. To him Flynn was just the person who owned this casino, the person who supposedly had in his possession the talisman that was vital to our plans.

  So I just nodded to Flynn and said, “It was nice to m-meet you.”

  “If you’re staying here, I’m sure I’ll see you around,” he said. He started to turn away but stopped. “Aren…that’s a Scottish name, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It means – “

  “Power.” A frown creased his forehead. “Now, how did I know that?” He just shook his head, lifted a hand in farewell, and moved off into the crowd that had gone back to its usual touristy pursuits once the commotion was over.

  “What was that all about?” Donovan asked, still sounding annoyed.

  “Come on,” I said. “I’ll t-tell you outside.”

  o0o

  “You’re saying he’s the same guy? Funny, he doesn’t look a day over nine hundred.”

  “D-Don’t be snide,” I said. We were back in that hot, dry air, and I didn’t like it. Even though the sun had gone down, it would be a while before things cooled off. The neon lights along the strip had begun to come on, though, and I had to admit they were impressive. The ones on the front of the Shamrock cast a green glow over the parking lot. “For a second there, when I first saw him, I thought he really was Eamon. But it’s obvious he just looks like Eamon. He’s probably a d-descendant.”

  “A throwback is more like it,” Donovan muttered. “So the talisman stayed in the possession of the same family for a thousand years?”

  “We c-can’t rule it out, can we?”

  He thought about it for a few seconds and then shrugged. “No, I g
uess we can’t. History is full of far-fetched things. That’s where the old ‘truth is stranger than fiction’ line comes in.”

  We were standing beside some flower beds near the Shamrock’s entrance. After a moment of silence while we thought about what had happened, I said, “If Malcolm Flynn is really descended from Eamon, he probably considers the f-falcon to be a family heirloom. He wouldn’t p-put it out on display where anybody could walk off with it.”

  “No, he probably wouldn’t,” Donovan agreed. “That’s going to make it harder for us. He may have it in his own quarters in the hotel.”

  “That fits with what we know. The informant who t-took those pictures and sent them to the private detective agency must be a maid or a b-bellboy or something like that.”

  “Yeah, that’s the kind of employee a private eye would pay off for tips and photos. The people who stay here probably don’t pay much attention to them. They’re almost invisible.”

  And that wasn’t right, I thought, but I couldn’t cure the world of all its social ills right now. That would have to wait for another time. My first priority was getting my father back home.

  “We m-might as well check in,” I said. “How long do you have the room booked?”

  “Three nights. That was the best I could do. I’ll talk to the guy at the desk and see if there have been any more cancellations. Maybe I can extend our stay. I’ve got a hunch that finding the thing isn’t going to be easy.”

  “We’ve been p-pretty lucky so far. Maybe we will be again.” I was trying to sound more confident than I really felt.

  Donovan nodded toward the entrance and said, “You can go on back inside. I’ll get the bags from the car.”

  “I’ll help you,” I said. “That way you w-won’t have to make two trips.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue but realized he would just be doing it out of habit, so he nodded and said, “Okay, thanks.” As we started across the parking lot toward the rental car, he added, “So you weren’t really flirting with Flynn, you were just thrown for a loop by how much he looked like this Eamon guy?”

  “That’s – “

  I didn’t get any farther in telling him he was right. A car had come around the corner from the parking area on the side of the Shamrock. With a screech of tires it leaped toward us as the driver must have floored the gas. Its headlights were on bright, half-blinding me.

  Just like when the man broke into my apartment that morning, I reacted without thinking. I wasn’t the only one, though. Donovan grabbed me and dived back toward the flower bed behind us. That caused the wave of force from my outflung hand to shoot upward along the front of the building instead of smashing into the car’s grill like I intended. The pop of neon tubes exploding mixed with squealing rubber. As we landed among the flowers, I looked up and saw sparks from the bursting tubes flying in the air like a fireworks display.

  Brakes screamed. I dropped my gaze to the parking lot and saw the car that had nearly run me down come to an abrupt stop. It lasted only a second, though, before the driver hit the gas again. Fishtailing, the car tore on through the parking lot and roared out onto the Strip, forcing its way into the thick traffic and causing more squealing tires and a lot of honking.

  “Drunken idiot!” Donovan raged as he sat up. He turned to me and asked, “Aren, are you all right?” I heard the fear in his voice.

  “Yeah, I’m f-fine,” I told him.

  A couple of the valet parking attendants and several tourists who had witnessed the incident ran toward us. As the attendants reached us, one of them said, “Oh, crap, oh, crap, oh, crap! Are you folks hurt? Do you need an ambulance? Should we call 9-1-1?”

  “Hold on, hold on,” Donovan told him. “The lady says she’s fine, and I’m not hurt, just mad at that idiot.”

  The other attendant said, “Maybe we should call the cops anyway.”

  “What for?” Donovan said as he got to his feet. “I didn’t see the guy’s license plates, and I couldn’t even give them a good description of the car.” He helped me stand up. “What about you, Aren?”

  I shook my head. “It all h-happened too fast.”

  “You should sue the hotel,” one of the tourists said. “It happened on the parking lot. It’s their responsibility.”

  The valets started edging away. “Maybe we should go get Mr. Flynn,” one of them said.

  “No!” Donovan said, and I could tell that came out sharper than he’d intended. He forced a smile onto his face as he brushed himself off. “I mean, no, there’s no need to bother anybody else with this. We’re all right, no real harm done, and since I’m sure there’s no chance of catching the guy…”

  “We’re not g-going to sue anybody,” I added to ease the attendants’ minds.

  “Don’t rule it out,” the tourist who had spoken up earlier advised us. I wondered if he was a lawyer. As if to confirm that, he reached into the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and went on, “Let me give you a card – “

  “No, thanks, we’re fine,” Donovan said quickly. He took hold of my arm. “Come on, hon.”

  He steered me toward the car. As the small crowd behind us began to break up, I heard one of the attendants say, “The boss is gonna pissed about all those lights busting. Wonder why it happened right at the same time like that?”

  I hoped nobody else would start wondering if I’d had anything to do with the damage to those neon signs.

  I put that out of my thoughts for the moment and said to Donovan, “Again with the ‘hon’ b-business.”

  “We’re going to be sharing a room here together, remember?” he muttered. “It’s not like we’d be doing that if we were mortal enemies.”

  “You wouldn’t think so, would you?”

  He said something else under his breath, but I didn’t catch it. I didn’t think I wanted to.

  Anyway, I was too busy thinking about something else, something that had me utterly confused and baffled.

  He took me by surprise by saying, “I didn’t want that Flynn guy making a fuss over you again. There’s a good chance we’re going to have to deal with him to get what we want, but we’re better off taking it slow.”

  “Not t-too slow,” I said. “Your mother and my f-father are still trapped, you know.”

  “Yeah, it’s hard to forget about that.” We reached the car, and he rested a hand on the trunk as he shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Aren, but trouble just seems to follow you.”

  “M-More than you know,” I said. “That car stopped for a second right after we l-landed in the flower bed and the driver looked over at us, like he wanted to see if we were h-hurt. I saw his face, Donovan.” I drew in a breath. “He was the same man who b-broke into my apartment this morning.”

  Chapter 14

  He stared at me for a couple of seconds like I had just lost my mind and announced that I was a Martian. Then he said, “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I got a good l-look at him this morning, and you d-don’t forget something like that.”

  “But you couldn’t have done more than catch a glimpse of the guy driving that car just now.”

  “That’s all it took. I know it was the same m-man, Donovan.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “You believe me?” I asked.

  “Actually, I do. I’ve been around you enough to know that you’re smart, and you’re not prone to hysteria. You keep your wits about you as well as anyone I’ve ever known.”

  I was pleased that he felt that way about me, but I wasn’t sure I agreed with him. From the outside it might look like I was cool-headed whenever a crisis happened, but it sure didn’t feel that way on the inside.

  “Let’s get the bags and check in,” Donovan went on. “We need to talk about this new weirdness, but we can do it upstairs in the room.”

  New weirdness was something we didn’t need, but it didn’t seem like we had any choice in the matter.

  When we checked in, the clerk at the d
esk told Donovan that there hadn’t been any more cancellations, but he promised to let us know right away if there were. We turned down the offer of help with our bags and carried them over to the elevators ourselves.

  Even though I was sure the Shamrock had been remodeled a number of times over the years, it was still obvious from the size of the room that this was an older hotel. It was slightly smaller than most modern hotel rooms. The bed was a queen-size, and along with a leather love seat, those two pieces of furniture took up most of the space. A small desk and a straight-backed chair in front of it sat on the other side of the room. The only modern touch was a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. There was no bar, which surprised me a little. I supposed Malcolm Flynn wanted his guests to do their drinking downstairs in The Pub, so they’d be handier to the casino. If they passed out drunk in their rooms, they wouldn’t be losing any money gambling.

  Donovan opened the doors to the small bathroom and even smaller closet. “Looks like it’s going to be pretty close quarters in here,” he commented.

  “That’s all right,” I said. “We won’t be spending m-much time in the room, anyway. We’ll be out looking for the f-falcon.”

  “Right. Still, I’m sorry it’s not more luxurious. I was hoping you’d be comfortable.”

  “Oh, I’ll be c-comfortable. I’m not so sure about you, though. That love seat’s not very b-big.”

  He looked at me and said, “You’re going to be like that, are you?”

  “It’s only been a few weeks since I t-told you I hated you, Donovan. What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve been spending so much time together – “

  “Working to free my father and your mother from that awful p-place. And your fiancée.”

  “I told you, nothing’s ever going to happen between me and Angela.”

  “I guess that’s something she and I have in c-common, then.”

  I hadn’t wanted to go off on this tangent. We had things to figure out, most importantly what we were going to do next. Donovan must have felt the same way, because he looked away for a second, shook his head, and then turned back to me to say, “All right, what about that guy who tried to run us down?”