Kinky Bones

by Al K. Line

  More hugs, more grumbles and commiserations.

  I made coffee for me and Vicky then took them over to the table and sat down.

  This could go on all day and I'd had enough of it.

  I took a sip. "Mmm, nice brew. Your loss."

  Twelve perplexed women turned to stare at me.

  Witches! Don't know what their problem is.

  Too Many Cooks

  After staring at me some more, the witches all took turns hugging Selma as she went over and over the story of the last several days. I reminded myself of something I'd known for many years. Witches were scatty as hell.

  Talk about disorganized. Most had no idea what day it was, had no clue when Selma had been let loose on us, let alone when she'd done the hack then impersonated Ivan. Their days were more blurry than mine, and their sense of time was akin to the fae's. They knew they had a plan, that Selma had been tasked with accomplishing it, aided, and abetted, by the three dead women upstairs, but it seemed that none of them had kept close tabs on progress beyond being told which parts had failed and that Selma was onto the next attempt to win me over by any means necessary.

  I couldn't understand it, couldn't figure out how they could be so disorganized. As they babbled, I ran through the course of events just so I knew where I was up to. It had started the day before yesterday. The hack was done early morning, I went to Vicky's, then it took all that night to get it fixed. I'd gone home, met Selma impersonating George, then returned to Vicky's that evening and we'd gone to the club. Then we'd been led to the cabin and I woke up in the attic this morning. Simple enough, even for me in my current state.

  These lot kept getting it all mixed up like this had spanned weeks, and I could tell that even Selma, unfortunately seemingly one of the smartest and most on-the-ball of the bunch, was getting muddled as they jabbered in her face and seemed hellbent on confusing the poor girl.

  Yes, that's right, after seeing what she was involved in I felt sorry for her. She was young, inexperienced, and although clearly very powerful with magic she had little real world experience. And it's all very well being able to transform yourself to appear to be someone else, but if you don't know how to fight or get out of a sticky situation, then you'll get into a lot of hot water in short order.

  Vicky squeezed through the throng of women and sat beside me with a sigh. She rolled her eyes then gave up and drank her coffee. Comes to something when Vicky finds the company a little too dippy, as in my dictionary at the time if I looked up babbling fool there was one word. Vicky.

  "Like to talk, don't they?" I commented.

  "Yeah, but it's like they don't know what's happening in their own lives. They're so unorganized. How can they function like this?"

  "It's all the herbs. Their brains are mush. I blame the hemp, or maybe the lavender. Who knows what a lifetime of sniffing their potions has done to them?"

  "Do they really make potions? I know next to nothing about witches."

  "Some of them, especially the old-timers. And I'm guessing most of this lot are seriously old. They grew up in different times, when witches all wore long cloaks and pointy hats and carried around big bags of dried leaves. Most lived in the woods and cackled a lot as they chucked worrying things into cauldrons and stirred them with big spoons."

  "Arthur, don't be so silly."

  "I'm actually not. You've got to remember that until recently anyone seen as different was persecuted or ostracized. Magic users had to be very careful. Wizards and witches were outcasts of sorts, only survived because of the magic they could harness. You either had to be a seer or a fortune teller, or something like that so people wouldn't come jab you with the closest pitchfork. Different times. So most witches chose to live away from their local communities, sometimes in groups, often alone, and they spent their time making potions for their serious magic and mixing up innocent concoctions on the side to appease the locals. Where do you think most medicine comes from?"

  "Dunno, never thought about it."

  "From the knowledge passed down by the witches. They are in tune with nature like most wizards aren't, and they figured out a lot of stuff. What plant mixes with what element to help cure stomach ache, cures for warts, mild potions to ease sickness, all that stuff came from them."

  We turned to stare at the chattering women, now deep into an argument about what to do next, seemingly having decided we were harmless even though I'd just killed three of them.

  It was hard to believe most modern medicine came from such minds.

  "What now?" asked Vicky.

  "Guess we hear them out. I promised Selma, but if they don't get a move on then we'll just leave. I don't think they'd even notice."

  Vicky and I continued to drink our coffee. In a bizarre twist of events, we remained silent. Vicky knew when she was outclassed in the "banging on and on about stuff without ever getting to the point" department.

  Finally, the room quietened down, and the women all turned and made their way as a group the whole three steps over to the table.

  "We've made a decision," said the one with the most voluminous of skirts.

  "We have," another agreed.

  "We're going to let you help us," said a third.

  "I thought we agreed I was going to do the talking?" said Big Skirt, scowling at her fellow witch.

  "I was just sayin'. No need to snap."

  "I wasn't snapping, I was merely pointing out that I am the—"

  "Can you please just get on with it. You're giving me a headache here. In case you've forgotten, we've been locked up all night, we haven't been home, Vicky misses her kids, and I miss my kitchen. And my bed."

  Selma stepped forward, and I was glad she did. Seemed like she was the only one with any sense amongst the lot of them.

  "Will you please help us?"

  "Depends. Tell me what you want and why you want it, and then we'll see. No promises, but I'll hear you out."

  "Great," said one witch.

  "He's going to listen."

  "Tell him then, go on."

  "Whoa! I said I'll listen, but to Selma. If you lie, or if any of you butt in and start jabbering, then we're out of here. Understand?"

  The women nodded silently.

  This was going to be hell.

  Aargh

  Fifteen minutes later, and with witches crowded close, peering at me, leaning over my shoulder, breathing heavily, interrupting continually, bickering, waving pouches of herbs about, and jostling for position, I'd had enough.

  "Okay, everyone apart from Selma, out. I can't stand it. If you want my help then I at least need to know what the problem really is. You're all driving me nuts!"

  They argued, they complained, they sulked, but Selma finally got them to agree to leave us alone while we talked. It was with a great sense of relief that the room emptied and the witches went off to perform their morning ablutions. I could only imagine how that would go with ten women all trying to use the bathroom. Maybe they all had en-suites in this place, wherever it was.

  "Now, can you please explain all of this? And don't tell me any lies. Just the truth."

  "I will. Promise."

  "How do you handle them?" I couldn't resist asking; Selma seemed so different to the others.

  "They're sweet really. Most of them, anyway. Some of them are just old, from a different time, and well, I guess I like it. They taught me everything I know, them and some of the others. And Grandma, of course. You probably don't know much about us, do you?"

  "No, not a lot," I admitted. "Witches and wizards don't really mix, and there aren't that many of you anyway. You keep to yourselves, more secretive than wizards. It is what it is. For the best. There'd be no end of hassle if we got involved in each other's business."

  "That's what Grandma always said, that it was for the best. Things have been changing lately though. She's changed. We aren't like we used to be. We've moved with the times. I know it doesn't look like it, but the witches are different now."

 
"The hacking, you mean?" asked Vicky. "That was very clever. Did you really hire someone?"

  "No, er, it was me. But it isn't what you think. I didn't do it like you. You're awesome, Vicky. I learned all about you before I tried to get you guys to work for us. You're a legend."

  Vicky blushed and beamed as she puffed out her chest. "You think so?"

  "Sure. I hear the talk. I hear about your hacking, your work, and I hear how the shifters talk about you. You're ace!"

  Vicky smiled so broadly she looked like her teeth were about to fall out.

  "So, you did the hack?"

  "Yeah, kinda. I used magic to do it, got so far, but I'm not like Vicky, so I used a spell to get into your computers. It's hard to describe, but I made it look like a hack although it wasn't. Your money never went anywhere and it would have all gone back to normal on its own, but Vicky beat me to it. She beat my magic."

  "That explains it, I guess," I said, unconvinced but not wanting to push the matter. "So what's been going on? Why all this?"

  "Grandma has been losing the plot. She's gone power hungry, wants us to have more control."

  "Of what?"

  "Of everything."

  "Oh."

  "We keep a low profile, but we're part of the underground too. We just don't let on. We're very good at getting what we want. We do jobs too, not like you, not artifacts, but other stuff. The community is involved in things you would never guess. But Grandma wants more. She's been sending the women on more jobs, causing more trouble, and it's getting worse. Some refused to do it anymore, said it wasn't the witch way, and she got angry. She threw them out and me too after I wouldn't do something I didn't want to do."

  "What?"

  "It doesn't matter, just a job. She wanted me to get involved in fae business. Something about a woman wanting help to get revenge for something in the past. Grandma never told me the details because as soon as she mentioned fae I said no. She threw a wobbly, which she does a lot, and told me to leave."

  I wondered if what she was talking about was the trouble Sasha had, but decided to keep quiet as it was personal business. Had Carmichael approached them, or had it been Sasha's nemesis? Guess I'd never know now.

  "So you're all here as you got thrown out of your homes? Or you all lived with Mabel?"

  "We were all together in a house. The Residence. You know it?"

  I nodded. I knew it, a massive place on the edge of the city where the witches mostly lived together. Not many, and they kept to themselves, never bothered anyone. They were a lot closer than wizards, but we outnumbered them vastly.

  "So you got thrown out?"

  "Yes, but not before she'd told me what she wanted us to do. Grandma has always confided in me. I think she saw me as her successor, or maybe just her dogsbody. She wants to take over, and she wants to destroy Ivan. She wanted us to all go and eliminate him after Mikalus got killed. Said this was our chance, to take over, be the rulers, that's how she put it."

  "So you all said no and she went mental. Why are you talking to me though? Why haven't you gone to Ivan and told him?"

  "Because then he'll want revenge and he'll kill my sisters. I don't want anyone to die, I just want Mabel stopped."

  "You think if you told Ivan he'd just kill you all?"

  "He would, wouldn't he? I'm sorry, Vicky, I know he's your brother, but am I right?"

  Vicky frowned, and stuck out her tongue, meaning she was in deep thought. "I don't know. Maybe. He's kind, and he loves us, but he's dangerous. A vampire but also a gangster. He's had a hard life, and violence is all he knows. If he thinks you're trying to kill him he'll act quickly and do whatever it takes."

  I nodded in agreement. "He has that right. If Mabel is trying to take him out then he'll destroy her and anyone he thinks would seek revenge. Makes sense. It's what I'd do."

  "Exactly, and I don't want that. Mabel's twisted and she's twisting the others. You've seen what they're like." Selma leaned forward and after checking nobody was listening she whispered, "You might have noticed, they're a little scatterbrained."

  "Really? Shock, horror."

  "Okay, but that doesn't mean they're bad. They can be easily led. Many of the women are quite naive, have spent most of their lives being nothing but witches. They don't know much about the modern world. Nearly all of them only mix with their sisters, never go out alone, and don't understand this world. In some ways, the Residence is like a convent. The women have their duties, they perfect their magic, do as Mabel asks, and don't mix with citizens. They're innocents."

  "Not all. Like those upstairs that locked us up."

  "You don't know them," Selma snapped. "Sorry, but you have to understand. They were desperate, thinking of the greater good. And like I said, they can be a bit dippy. They were watching all night, and wouldn't have let anything happen. Nothing too serious."

  "Okay, so Mabel's got a screw loose, she wants to take over the vampires' business and eliminate Ivan, what's this got to do with Mabel's Cauldron?"

  "Everything. It's got everything to do with it. She's going to use it to do something so wild that it will change everything. You're a wizard, you know how powerful magic is. But you don't know what we're capable of, what we can do when we put our minds to it."

  "Come on, it's just a cauldron. Okay, a magical cauldron, which they all are, and I know it's old, named after her, but it's still just for making potions."

  "You wizards," said Selma with a sigh. "You think you know it all, think you're the best. You underestimate us, all of us. You've seen what I can do, and I'm just getting started. I'm young, have so much to learn. What do you think the older women can do? I know you think they're all daft and weak, but any one of the women in this house could turn you to mush in an instant. They talk a lot and act daft, but that's the witch way. We hide our true strength. It's so much a part of us we don't know any other way. But trust me, every woman here apart from me has killed, done extreme things for our sisters and our future, so don't underestimate us."

  "Okay, I won't. Jeez, I was only asking. If you're all such hotshots why don't you destroy the Queen?"

  "She's my Grandma. My great, great, whatever Grandma. I don't want her hurt, I want her stopped. Want the cauldron taken away so she can't do what she's planning to do. Once that's gone, she won't be able to act, at least for a while, as for some reason she's hellbent on using her cauldron, and hopefully she'll see sense. If not, then we'll think of something. And as a last resort, she'll have to die."

  "You know if I tell Ivan this he'll kill her. You're taking a big risk telling us."

  "I know. But there's no other choice. You have to do it. You're the best, and this affects you. You're perfect for the job."

  "You mean because of George, right?"

  "Exactly. At the moment she's in the early years of her training, but soon she'll be introduced to the others, to Mabel, and you don't want her caught up in any of this madness. You want her kept safe, so this has to be settled. Things must return to normal before George becomes a part of this. It's why we chose you."

  "Why the hell didn't you just say all this to start with?"

  "Because we figured you'd just agree to it after the hack. That way we wouldn't have to go into detail and risk you telling Ivan."

  "But now you have."

  "Now we have," agreed Selma.

  "Let me think about it."

  Selma nodded then left.

  I honestly wasn't sure what to do. This was serious, and big scale. Involving matters that went way beyond my usual line of work. I'd also vowed never to help the vampires again.

  Vicky looked at me with her best puppy dog eyes.

  What a decision to have to make.

  Decisions

  "What should we do?" I asked Vicky.

  Vicky was taken aback. "You're asking me?"

  "Yeah, I am. What should we do? Should I agree to this, or not? Sounds flaky, stealing a cauldron to stop the wicked witch trying to be the top gangster in the country. So
unds far-fetched as hell too. There's something else going on, that's for sure. Things Selma isn't telling us. But she's a good girl, I'm sure of that. She's trying to stop Mabel risking everything, risking the lives of the others, and leading them into a life most don't want. So, I'll ask you again, what should I do? What should we do? This involves both of us."

  "You never ask my opinion."

  "But this time I am. He's your brother, Vicky. Is it right to keep quiet, not warn him? He's looking after your kids as we speak. Okay, they're in school, but you know what I mean. He's nuts, and dangerous, and has got me into a lot of trouble, but he's also a good guy. We know where we stand with him, kind of. These witches, I don't know them. At all. Should we take their word and do as they ask to maybe protect Ivan, or do we tell him and let him deal with the matter? He's family, these are strangers."

  It wasn't an easy decision to make, and I understood that. I was also thinking of what Selma had said about George. She had enough crap to deal with without the witches dragging her into any nonsense. What was best for her? If Ivan went wild and killed most witches, where would that leave George? She needed like-minded people to mix with as she grew older, but she also didn't want a father who betrayed the top vampire.

  If we got involved in this, it had to go perfectly otherwise the shit really would hit the fan. Ivan would be apoplectic if he knew we'd had the chance to save him by telling him and had failed to do so. Secrets between family are never a good idea, especially when they are gangster vampire family.

  Vicky had a tough decision to make. So did I.

  "Well?"

  "I'm still thinking," said Vicky.

  "I'm not. I know exactly how to play this. You gonna back me up?"

  Vicky smiled with relief at the decision being taken out of her hands. "You betcha, boss."

  "Blimey, that's a first."

  "What?

  "You agreeing with me, and calling me boss. You really love him, huh?"

  "He's family."

  "Yeah, family. You either kill them or keep them safe, what other choice is there?" Vicky stared at me funny. That was one tale I wasn't ready to tell her. Maybe I never would be.