Witches Protection Program

by Michael Phillip Cash

  “We’re not what you think.” His deep voice was close to her ear, making her shiver. He held onto her, and while he knew that he was doing the same thing he’d accused his partner of, somehow, it didn’t feel threatening.

  The world narrowed to the two of them. She noticed his blue eyes seemed even brighter than she remembered. She looked up at him, observing wrinkles in the corners when he squinted in the sunlight. It made him look experienced, as if he had seen a lot in his lifetime. Much as she fought it, she found herself warming to his gentle smile.

  “What do you know what I think? Let go of me.” Morgan gave a halfhearted tug of her arm.

  “We won’t hurt you.”

  Morgan pulled away, but he held firm, so she dragged him toward a courtyard on the corner of the street as if she were the one holding onto him. They looked like a couple, and a woman looked up smiling at them. There were concrete benches filled with people eating breakfast, texting, or enjoying the spring weather.

  “I need to talk to you,” he told her.

  “You a fed?” She eyed him warily.

  Wes thought for a minute on how to answer that, but before he could respond, the dark-haired girl blurted, “You work for my aunt.”

  He studied the distrust in her obsidian eyes. He wanted to reassure her. She had the look of someone who was lost. She glanced up and down the street nervously. He realized with a start she was afraid, like the receptionist yesterday. He felt the need to make her feel safe. “No. I’m not a fed. We protect…We protect people who are at risk.”

  “I’m not at risk,” Morgan answered defiantly. “Look, I didn’t ask for help. I don’t even know who you are. The little guy”—she gestured at the truck window where Alastair sat, watching them—“creeps me out.”

  Wes wanted to say, “Me too,” but replied with, “We know your aunt is involved with something big. You don’t want to be associated with it.”

  Morgan backed away from him, her expression wary. “You don’t know me, and I don’t want to know anything about you. Stay away from me.”

  “What do you know about the face cream?” Something flickered in her eyes, and Wes knew she hovered with uncertainty. Her small body hummed with tension. “We could help you.”

  “I—I don’t need anything.”

  Wes grabbed her hand, his grip warm and reassuring. He squeezed her fingers, a frisson of electricity startling them both. Morgan pulled her hand away, but he reached forward to touch her shoulder. She ducked away but looked up at him, her eyes softening.

  “If you ever need help, or you want to talk, you have my card.”

  Morgan cleared her throat. “No. I mean, I don’t have it. Not anymore.”

  Wes pulled out another card, pressing it into her palm. Turning, he walked quickly back to the vehicle. Morgan watched as it was absorbed into traffic. She looked down at the card. The name Wesley Rockville and his number was printed on it, nothing else. “Wesley.” Her lips formed his name soundlessly. “Wesley.” This time, when she put it in her bag, she did not crumble his card.

  Squaring her shoulders, she walked into the building. Morgan ducked into a bathroom on the lobby level. She closed the door of the first stall, pulled out her wand, and held it high over her head, whispering, “Demons and witches hate Scarlett’s strut, let me be, just for a while, that blowsy, pathetic slut.”

  Morgan felt her legs stretch and her shoulders widen, and she watched with fascinated interest as her hair lengthened, changing from dark to light. Cat-shaped eyes observed the new body. Morgan bit back a giggle. She had never morphed before. It felt…strange. She enjoyed the moment, almost wishing her aunt could see the successful spell. Shapeshifting was easier than she thought. She walked around, looking at her unfamiliar hands and feet. Posing before the mirror, she practiced the sexy smile that Scarlett used. She took a deep breath, her eyes widening as huge breasts filled the tight shirt. She slid the wand up her sleeve, where she could feel it reassuringly against her wrist. She liked using the wand. Some did; others didn’t. Witches were known to have familiars, an animal that helped do their bidding. Aunt Bea hated pets and refused to let Morgan have one, except for a lone goldfish that didn’t last very long. Besides, Leo, as she called him, couldn’t do much from the small, clear bowl he occupied. Scarlett harnessed nature. Her aunt played an awful lot with her three stones, but Morgan had never caught her actually doing magic. She knew Bea used a family book with favorite and surefire spells. Morgan preferred to make it up as she went along. Every witch had a style exclusive to her territory and needs.

  Morgan stared at the strange reflection. She reached into her bag, taking out a tube of Pendragon matte red lipstick, and leaned forward to apply it generously to her newly plumped lips. She blotted her mouth, primped the blond locks cascading onto her shoulders, and, turning sideways, admired Scarlett’s boobs. They were enormous. Maybe she’d keep the boobs, she thought.

  The door opened, and Morgan recognized Wu Chan Tsu, the Asian purchasing agent who worked closely in her aunt’s inner circle. The long-standing enmity between Scarlett and Wu was known throughout the company. It had started over a man and ended with a legendary fight during one of the company picnics. Scarlett hated Wu, and Wu returned the favor. Wu was all tensile strength and coiled muscle compared with Scarlett’s icy, womanly softness. Morgan always thought that Scarlett matched Wu with her cruel coldness, and her heart was equally dark. Wu was beautiful, though, tall and slender, with straight black hair, and sloe eyes so black, they appeared devoid of light. Wu always dressed in black leather. Morgan knew that she was some sort of specialist in martial arts as well. Morgan held her breath, worried she would sniff out her masquerade.

  Wu pulled out mascara and touched up her soulless eyes. She looked sideways at the woman she assumed to be Scarlett and nodded coldly.

  Morgan cleared her throat, hoping she’d sound like the assistant. “New wand?” she asked as she gestured at the mascara brush.

  “Ha, very funny. I don’t use willow wands,” she said dismissively. “Did you finish the spreadsheets for me? La Bernadette is being a rare bitch.”

  Morgan replied that she had.

  “Well, I didn’t get them, Red. You better have them on my desk by one.”

  Clearly, Wu had a bit of an attitude this morning. Scarlett wouldn’t let her talk down to her. What would Scarlett do; what would Scarlett do? Morgan racked her brain. Swallowing, she replied, her voice cold as ice, “I’ll get them there when I get them there. Deal with it.”

  “You’re such a—”

  “A what, Wu?” Morgan taunted. “Don’t forget, I answer directly to Bernadette, and she doesn’t take kindly to disrespect.”

  Wu turned to lean on the sink, coming face to face with Morgan. “High and mighty today, aren’t we. You aren’t the only one with influence.” Wu’s eyes narrowed into slits. She had elegant hands that ended with long, graceful nails. She swirled them in the air, creating an eddy of wind that ruffled Morgan’s hair.

  Morgan reached out, grabbing Wu’s hand in a viselike grip. “Don’t toy with me, and don’t use magic.” She squeezed hard, feeling one of the nails break. Wu struggled to break free, but Morgan maintained the upper hand. They stood nose to nose, hatred emanating from them both. She heard Wu’s quick intake of breath and let her snatch her hand away.

  “I won’t forget this, Red.”

  Morgan sniffed. “Don’t call me Red.” She turned to leave the bathroom.

  “This isn’t over, Scarlett,” Wu called after her.

  Morgan laughed as she exited the bathroom, thinking payback was going to be a bitch for Scarlett.

  Morgan grinned with surprise when Scarlett’s eye recognition allowed her into the data center. The room was a large office filled with rows of computers containing all the information that made up Pendragon Cosmetics. Passing a server hotel, she found a lone station, then s
lid the USB into the port. Files raced down the screen. Morgan typed in the code for development, watching for the information that held the keys to the formula. Sweat beaded her brow. She brushed impatiently at the unfamiliar blond hair that kept falling into her eyes. Scanning the data, she sighed with relief when the files for Pendragon Glow filled the screen. “Eureka,” she whispered. She texted a message to Gabby telling her she was on the way.

  Outside, the corridors were busy with employees heading to their destinations. Wu walked back toward her office, coming face to face with Scarlett outside her office.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded angrily.

  Scarlett studied her colleague’s white face. “What’s got your panties in a knot?” she asked, holding a thick folder of files.

  Wu smashed her fist onto the folder. The papers scattered all over the floor.

  “What’s your problem?” Scarlett demanded, her fair face turning red with fury as the papers scattered around her.

  “You dare to ask?” Wu spat. “Look—look what you did to me.” She held out her abused finger, the nail broken to the quick. It happened to be her middle finger. Wu smirked at the message. “Read between the lines, Red.”

  Scarlett grabbed her hand, pushing it down. “What are you talking about?”

  Wu snatched it away. “You broke my nail.”

  “Are you crazy? I never touched you.”

  Wu leaned over Scarlett, her eyes blazing. “You forgot what happened in the bathroom?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You threatened me. In the bathroom.”

  “I haven’t been out of Bernadette’s office all morning. I don’t know…What do you mean, we were in the bathroom together? Now?”

  “Twenty minutes ago.”

  “If it wasn’t me…” Scarlett took off. “Call the guards and have them check the cameras.”

  “What should I have them look for?”

  “Tell them to look for me!” Scarlett yelled as she raced down the hallway.

  Scant minutes later, Scarlett called Bernadette’s private line. “There’s been a breach.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bernadette asked impatiently.

  “Someone’s been in the data center. I’m heading down there.” Scarlett watched her impersonator pull the USB from the computer. “Rudy,” she said over an intercom. “There’s someone pretending to be me in the data center. Detain her.”

  Morgan slid the USB into her bra as she walked briskly toward the door. Rudy Sinclair, a bespectacled security guard, opened the door, surprising her. She knew Rudy, had played at his station when she was a little girl. He grabbed her arm.

  Morgan struggled with him. “What’s the meaning of this. Bernadette sent me here—”

  “I don’t know who you are, but I know you are not Scarlett LoPretti.”

  “Let go of me.” Morgan felt her magic slipping as she morphed back into herself. She shrank as she felt the spell end. Rudy’s hold slipped away.

  Rudy reared back in shock. “Miss Pendragon? I’m sorry.”

  Scarlett’s voice broke over the speaker in the room. “Bring her in, Rudy,” she shouted angrily. “She’s trespassing.”

  “I can’t trespass at my own company!” Morgan shouted.

  Clearly, Rudy was torn. Scarlett shouted again, “Bring her in, now!”

  “I’m really sorry, miss, but I report to Miss LoPretti.” He reached for her arm.

  Morgan crouched down quickly, escaping his hold. Sliding her fingers along the dusty floor, then letting her wand fall into her ready hand, she spun, crying out, “Arise and fly, this you must, coat his glasses with lots of dust!”

  The air filled with dirt, choking them both. Rudy clawed at his glasses, now covered with a thick layer of dust. Morgan raced out the door, coughing, the tornado of debris following her as she made a mad dash for the stairs. She pointed her humming wand at the exit door to the stairwell. “No time to waste, give me speed, slide down forty floors on my ass, indeed.” Morgan lifted her backside so that it rode the bannister, the floors racing past her as she jumped from landing to landing. Doors slammed, but she repeated her spell until all she appeared to be was a blurred smudge on the cameras.

  Scarlett stood behind Bernadette, who was watching the fleeting image of her niece escaping the building.

  “Is she flying?”

  Bernadette made a negative sound that turned into a chuckle. “No, Morgan doesn’t fly, but apparently she knows how to slide really fast.” She shook her head. “Naughty Morgan, what are you up to?” She turned to Scarlett. “Get Wu and Vincenza on it. Bring her back.” She looked at the younger woman’s vicious expression. “Scarlett, I don’t want her harmed.”

  Scarlett smiled, and Bernadette wondered what she found amusing.

  * * *

  Morgan sprinted through the lobby, darting between the milling crowd. She heard someone shout, “Shut down the front entrance!”

  Alarms blared, startling the crowd so that it went wild with fear. People made a mad dash for the exits, pushing to escape the building. Nobody knew what was going on, so they rushed the doorways. Breathing hard, Morgan slipped, her feet sliding out from under her on the polished marble floor. Pushing to her feet, she scrambled toward the revolving door, feeling it seize just before she felt the cool outside air hit her face. Half in, she squeezed through the opening, losing her jacket to the door. Her arm was scraped raw from wrist to elbow, but she was free. Breathing heavily, she looked about wildly to see if she was being followed.

  “Here she comes,” Alastair said patiently.

  Wes turned to see Morgan struggling to thrust herself from the jammed revolving door. He unbuckled his seat belt.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Alastair asked.

  “I’m going to help her.”

  “Not so fast, Galahad,” Alastair cautioned him.

  “She’s in trouble!” Wes started to leave the car, but Alastair’s hand restrained him.

  “She’s got to come to us.”

  “They’re never going to let her go. Look.” Wes motioned to the groups of security rounding the block to intercept.

  Morgan knew they were behind her. She raced out of the building, skirting through the crowds. Glancing back, she saw Wu and Vincenza in the lobby. Wu pointed, and they rushed the revolving door, pushing people out of the way. As they emerged, the two split up. Morgan looked back, panicking for a moment. Three guards were headed up the street from the opposite direction. She was trapped.

  “Holy shit,” Wes whispered. Watching the glass door, he felt chills erupt on his spine as two women burst through the entrance. One was Asian, the other very dark. Both wore black pantsuits. The air trembled before them. The Asian female wavered, then shimmered, transforming into a hawk. The other woman dropped to all fours, her movements feline, as a black panther leaped onto the sidewalk. People were shouting. Pandemonium broke out. It was chaos. Screams filled the air. Bystanders grappled with their cellphones, filming the hawk’s giant wingspan and the panther’s loping stride.

  “Did you see what happened?” Wes yelled.

  “Looks like a hostile work environment,” Alastair replied, flooring the accelerator and propelling the SUV over the curb to jump in front of Morgan. “Crap! By the evening news, everybody is going to be talking about witches. Get in, Morgan!” Alastair shouted.

  Wes jumped out, the hawk attacking his shoulders with its sharp beak. He grabbed Morgan’s arm, lifting her off the pavement. The girl looked stunned. Wes turned at the sound of a growl in time to see the huge panther leap at him. Wes twisted, hauling Morgan in so her body was in the SUV. He felt Alastair grab the girl, relieving him of his burden. He kicked the panther squarely in the face, feeling its teeth catch on his shoe. The big cat bit hard. Wes cursed, feeling his shoe fill wi
th blood. He grabbed Alastair’s umbrella from where it rested in the front, hitting the panther squarely on the head. The hawk shrieked loudly in his ear, its razor-sharp beak trying to get him from above. Wes pointed upward and pressed the lever. The umbrella sprang open, smacking the hawk so that it was propelled backward into an oncoming taxi’s front hood. The cab careened across four lanes, horns blaring. It plowed into a bus, bounced out, and landed on a fire hydrant, causing it to burst, releasing a geyser of water that would put Old Faithful to shame.

  “Do something!” Morgan screamed, landing on the console between the two seats. Wes kicked at the panther, trying to dislodge its hold. Sirens blared. Wes heard a roar but wasn’t sure if it was the animal or inside his head. The hawk was back, pounding the windshield until it was pocked with several spider-webs of broken glass. There was a sonic blast; a stream of hot steam flew past him. Alastair held his strange-looking gun at the cat’s head, letting loose a steady fountain of a green foamy liquid that forced the beast to release his foot with a howl of pain. The panther fell on her backside, transforming into a swarthy woman with torn pants and blood dripping from her feral lips.

  Wes landed in the truck, gasping, “Punch it!” He slammed the door. Morgan was sprawled on top of him, both of them panting.

  The hawk was spread-eagled across the windshield, its pointy beak chipping away at the glass.

  “Put on the wipers!” Wes yelled.

  The wipers released the same foamy liquid that was in the gun. The hawk screamed as it relinquished its hold, falling to the side. Morgan glanced back to see Wu sprawled on the street, wiping the goo from her furious face.

  “I hope you’re insured.” Wes pointed to the shattered windshield. “What was that all about?”