He was deflecting. “Your father loves you. He does what he thinks is right for you ... and yet he’s always second-guessing himself. He’s proud of you. He also wants to be part of your life. That’s why he asked me what was going on between us.”
“And what did you say?”
“That he would have to ask you.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that.” He turned whiny and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now he’ll know exactly what’s going on.”
I couldn’t hold back my chuckle. “Funnily enough, he said the same thing.” His gaze was dark, causing me to heave out a sigh. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do with your life. Your relationship with your father is your own business.”
“Maybe I want it to be your business,” he countered. “Just because I think you’re spouting nonsense doesn’t mean I want you to hold back. I value your opinion ... even if it’s ludicrous.”
This time I smiled for another reason. “That could be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He took a step closer, his arms dropping to his sides, and held my gaze. “I can be more romantic.”
And we’d circled back. It happened much quicker than I thought. Still, I’d expected it and was ready this time. “Oh, yeah? You might have to back up those words with some action.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Wait ... are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
I nodded and gestured toward the cabin. If we were going to do this, I was going to be in charge. That’s how I liked things. Of course, that was probably how he liked things, too. Apparently it was going to be a learning experience … for both of us.
“We should probably go inside,” I suggested. “There’s a Peeping Tim out here.”
“Oh, man.” The ghost started complaining from a stand of trees about thirty feet away. “You’re not happy unless you’re ruining all my fun, are you?”
Gunner ignored the specter and slipped a strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you sure? We don’t have to. If you’re not ready ... .” He left the sentence hanging.
“I’m ready. Besides, I’ll probably explode if we wait any longer.”
He snorted. “I like your honesty.”
“It’s a matter of survival.”
“For both of us. I guess we’ll have to save each other.”
“That’s the plan.” I slid toward the front door. “By the way, I’m a little nervous. Don’t judge me because of it.”
His expression softened. “If you want to know the truth, I’m a little nervous, too. The thing is ... your pants aren’t going to set me on fire, are they?”
“I guess you’ll have to find that out for yourself.”
“Oh, hell. There are worse ways to go.”
Twenty-Four
I woke in the middle of the night to noises outside the cabin. At first I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. It sounded like fireworks. When I looked to the window, I found Gunner standing there — naked — and staring through the opening in the curtains.
I was instantly alert.
“What is it?” I bolted to a sitting position, immediately reaching for the shirt I’d discarded the previous evening.
“We have visitors,” he said grimly. “It’s Flint and Drake ... and maybe a few others.”
Ah. That explained the noises. They were revving their bikes in an attempt to frighten us. “Apparently a case of herpes wasn’t enough of a learning experience,” I muttered, kicking the jeans away from my feet and striding toward the dresser. I grabbed the first pair of stretchy pants I found and tugged them on. “Well, they’re going to learn a thing or two about interrupting the best night of sleep I’ve had in weeks, maybe years.”
Gunner looked amused as he put on his pants. “The best night of sleep? Why, you humble me.”
“Don’t let your ego get out of control. I’m already sorry I mentioned it.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry. I’m just going to hold it over your head for the rest of our lives.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I slipped into a pair of slippers rather than boots because it was faster. “Are you ready?”
He stood across from me and stared, making me uncomfortable.
“What?” Frustration bubbled up. “We can’t let them keep this up. We have to scare the crap out of them.”
“I agree. It’s just ... I don’t know that fuzzy pajama bottoms and slippers with cat heads will paint the correct picture.”
I glanced down at my outfit and found I was indeed dressed in fuzzy sleep pants and animal slippers. “They’re lions,” I corrected of the slippers. “They’re not cats; they’re lions. That’s way scarier than cat slippers.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced.
“Do you think I should change?”
He shook his head. “No. They’ll never be able to live down the shame of being beaten up by a girl in lion slippers. It’s an inspired choice.”
“Well, then let’s do this. The faster we dispatch them, the faster we can get back to sleep.”
“The best sleep of your life.”
“I don’t think that’s exactly what I said.”
“And yet that’s what I heard. How do you explain that?”
That was a very good question.
FLINT AND DRAKE OBVIOUSLY EXPECTED US to confront them. They were standing in the middle of the yard when we exited the cabin. One look at my bedhead and sleep outfit had them uproariously guffawing.
“Oh, did we interrupt something?” Flint challenged, the cold sores still evident on his face. “That’s quite the bedtime outfit. I take everything I said back, Gunner. You should definitely trade her in for a different model, because this one is obviously defective.”
Instead of being drawn into a verbal slap-fight, Gunner crossed his arms over his bare chest and waited for me to unleash my fury. “You guys are going to be sorry you woke her,” he warned. “She’s a bear when she doesn’t get her full eight hours. If you think the herpes curse was bad, you’ll be crying when she’s done with you here.”
That was a lot of pressure and I wasn’t exactly feeling my best. “I wish you hadn’t said that,” I groused. “Now I have to put on my thinking cap.”
He appeared more amused than contrite. “Does it have animals on it, too?”
“It might.”
“Then I can’t wait to see it.”
Drake cleared his throat to get our attention. “Not that this verbal copulation isn’t stimulating, but we’re here for a reason.”
“And what reason is that?” Gunner challenged. “If you’re here to terrorize her — or me, for that matter — you’ll be bitterly disappointed. We don’t bow down to bullies.”
“We have no interest in you other than the obvious,” Flint shot back. “My father realizes what a mistake it was to try to recruit you to a righteous cause. You have no interest in being a prime pack member.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Gunner noted.
Flint narrowed his eyes. “I’m serious. We don’t want you. I’m sure that’s hard for your ego to swallow, but it’s true. If we never see you again, it will be too soon.”
Something told me that Flint was talking out of a southern orifice. His father was obviously still interested. Flint had his nose out of joint because of that interest and enjoyed talking big. That was hardly the concern for tonight, though. “What do you want?” I really was eager to return to bed and the welcome slumber I’d been enjoying before their encroachment on my territory.
“What do I want?” Flint practically screeched. “I want you to fix this.” He pointed toward his face. “I can’t walk around like this. You did it to me, so it’s up to you to fix it.”
“Oh, that.” I was blasé. “I can’t fix that. Once the spell is cast, it’s done. It holds until you learn the error of your ways.”
Gunner slid me a sidelong look. “Is that true?” he murmured.
“That’s crap!” Flint raged. “I
t’s impossible to cast a spell and not be able to reverse it. I’m not a complete and total idiot.”
He was doing a good job of convincing me otherwise. “Most witches wouldn’t cast a spell they couldn’t reverse,” I clarified. “There are rules and covens enforce them. The thing is, I’m not much on rules.”
“She’s not,” Gunner agreed.
“This particular curse is designed around the concept that you have to learn something to vanquish it,” I explained. “You incurred the curse because you tried to put your hands on me without invitation. To get rid of the curse, you need to volunteer your time at a women’s shelter or willingly help a female in need — and not just to get rid of the curse but because you’re pure of heart. It usually takes those who have been cursed a decent amount of time to get to the cure.”
Flint’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but ... you’re screwed.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to put your hands on her,” Gunner growled. “All you had to do was keep your hands to yourself, not treat her like a piece of meat. There’s a lesson in there for you, Flint.”
“I am going to kill you.” Flint was all snarls and hate as he stepped forward, his hand moving in such a manner that I realized almost instantly he was brandishing a weapon.
My instincts took over and I started chanting, a bolt of magic escaping out of my fingertips and slamming into Flint’s chest with the strength of a small freight train.
“Burn,” I intoned, my voice low.
As if on cue, Flint began screaming as the gun heated in his hand. He wasn’t the only one. Even though I could only sense the other figures in the woods — they purposely kept hidden — that didn’t mean I couldn’t curse them at the same time. Everyone holding a weapon, whether gun or knife, began screaming in unison.
“What is that?” Gunner was breathless as he jerked his head toward the woods.
“A different kind of karma spell,” I replied. “If they don’t drop their weapons, they’ll be sorry.”
“You’re the one who’s going to be sorry,” Flint gasped, struggling to hold on to the gun. He tried to raise it, but it was too hot. Finally, he did the only thing he could and dropped his weapon. The second it hit the ground it exploded into a million small projectiles and acted as shrapnel. “Son of a ... !” Flint screamed again as some of the super-heated particles struck him. “What are you doing? I’m going to kill you!”
I cocked my head to the side as the distinctive sound of fleeing feet and crying men assailed my ears. Flint’s reinforcements were running in the opposite direction. That left him and Drake, who stood unharmed about five feet from his friend. Apparently he hadn’t brought a weapon. Smart boy.
“Aren’t you getting tired of this?” I challenged for his benefit. “Why do you guys keep doing this?”
“I didn’t make the decision.” Drake’s countenance was dark. “I told him it was a bad idea, but he didn’t listen.”
“Oh, shut up,” Flint gritted out, cradling his burned hand. “Help me, you idiot. I need to go to the hospital.”
“You probably shouldn’t do that,” I countered. “It’s going to be hard to explain what happened.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Flint’s eyes flashed with malevolence. “You’re going to wish you’d never met me.”
“Yeah? I’m already there.”
Gunner and I remained rooted to our spots until Drake and Flint disappeared into the darkness. It was only when he was certain that we were alone that Gunner spoke again. “That was a pretty interesting show. I’m impressed.”
“Just wait until tomorrow. The spell has a little added something.”
“What?”
“It will probably be funnier when you see it for yourself.”
“Do all your spells have a little added something?”
“Not all, but a lot of them.”
“I can’t tell you how excited I am to see how this turns out.”
That made two of us.
WE DRAGGED OURSELVES TO THE Cauldron shortly before ten the next morning. We would have preferred spending the day in bed, but after the altercation on the lawn we decided to play a different game inside the cabin. By the time we fell asleep a second time it was nearing four in the morning ... and I slept as hard as I had the first time.
We woke to texts from Rooster. We were being summoned for a meeting. That probably wasn’t good.
The bar buzzed with activity when we entered. I didn’t miss the appreciative look Whistler shot me as I headed toward a table in the corner.
“Good morning, kids,” he drawled, his eyes sparkling when he met Gunner’s admonishing gaze. “I heard you had a bit of fun last night.”
“What fun?” Marissa demanded. She still looked half asleep and was drinking juice as she slouched morosely in a booth. “Not all of us were out partying last night. Some of us were working. You could’ve put this meeting off for a few hours.”
“I didn’t think that was a good idea,” Rooster countered. He had a ledger open and had obviously been tallying numbers before our arrival. “I saw Flint this morning. He’s spitting mad ... and his father wants to have a sit-down with me.”
Uh-oh. That didn't sound good. “Listen, before you say anything ... .”
Gunner put his hand on my shoulder to still me. “Flint earned everything she doled out. She’s not apologizing.”
Rooster’s expression remained placid. “And what did he do?”
“Well, for starters, he tried to grab her rear end at the gathering last night.” Gunner launched into the tale, not leaving anything out. When it came time to explain the assault on the cabin, he didn’t gloss over the fact that he’d spent the night — even going so far as to describe my outfit to the delighted members of our group.
“Wait ... she was wearing fuzzy lion slippers?” Whistler was obviously tickled. “Why didn’t you get a photo of that?”
“I didn’t think about it.” Gunner shot me a sly smile before hopping onto one of the bar stools. “By the way, I didn’t lift a finger. She took all of them out without breaking a sweat ... and the spell was geared to attack those who were armed, so they have nothing to complain about.”
“Well, that’s a little tidbit that was left out of the telling,” Rooster mused, rubbing his chin. “It wasn’t Cyrus doing the talking, by the way. It was Drake. He seemed agitated. Said Cyrus was demanding an audience.”
“What about Flint?” Gunner asked. “How did he look?”
“Bald.”
Gunner shifted on his stool and focused on me. “Bald?”
“Yeah.” Rooster smirked at the memory. “All of his hair is gone. We’re talking everything on top of his head ... and face, including his eyebrows. I’m betting he’s bald as a newborn rat under his clothes.”
“Oh, you would be wrong there,” I countered, doing my best to tamp down the malicious energy bubbling up. “That’s the after effect of the butt-grabbing spell, by the way. The final little surprise, so to speak. The others in the group won’t suffer the same symptoms.”
“You said I would be wrong about the hair,” Rooster noted. “How so?”
“All that hair he’s missing from the top of his head — and other places — has been re-directed to his back.”
“Oh, gross,” Bonnie and Marissa squealed in unison.
Rooster looked amused. “I guess that was a conscious choice on your part.”
“It’s a karma spell. He now has cold sores and a hairy back. He touched me without being invited and now he’s reaping the consequences. There’s no woman in the world who will touch him when he looks like that, even those who are paid to do so.”
Rooster let loose a hearty guffaw, his shoulders shaking. “Oh, that is just priceless. Do I want to know the after-effects those in the woods face?”
“Probably not. It will lose in the telling. But you won’t be able
to miss it when you see them.”
“Now I can’t wait.” Rooster rolled his neck and closed his ledger. “That doesn’t change the fact that Cyrus is probably spitting mad and will make certain demands.”
“He can make all the demands he wants,” I said. “I can’t remove the spell. He has to do it for himself. As for the others, the remnants of that spell will wear off in a few days. I can’t hurry the process.”
“And that’s because you built the spells this way?” Rooster asked.
“Yup. It’s not a true karma spell if he doesn’t learn something.”
“I guess that’s how I can phrase it with Cyrus. I don’t expect him to get violent or anything, but we’re having the meeting here regardless ... just to be on the safe side.”
“That’s smart,” Gunner agreed. “Is that the only reason you called us here? If so, I can think of a few things I would rather be doing.” He shot me a wolfish grin, which caused Marissa to groan and roll her eyes.
“That’s actually not the only reason,” Rooster countered. “Doc has come up with some useful information ... including Fred’s real name.”
“Real name?” I swiveled to focus on the quiet computer guru. “How did you figure that out?”
“I developed a program to access the law enforcement databanks of every state,” he replied simply. “It didn’t take that long, but sometimes the search results are delayed. That’s what happened here because there was a match for Fred’s fingerprints in North Dakota. Their system is notoriously slow.”
“North Dakota.” It didn’t mean anything to me. I’d never been there – as far as I knew.
“His real name is George Culpepper. He was fifty-eight years old and he essentially disappeared from his life sixteen years ago. He worked as a postal carrier in North Dakota before then. No criminal record. Postal carriers are automatically fingerprinted, though, so there was a record.”
“So ... how did he end up here?” Gunner asked, shooting me a worried look.
No Crones About It Page 23