That sucked because England was where the BBC wanted to film my program (yes, that was still on, by some miracle I was not questioning), and Josie, Rory, Aidan and a ton of my friends were there, not to mention custard and Sunday roasts (yes, I could make these things in America, yes, I did make these things in America, no, they weren’t the same).
Right, so we’d sussed that out, and Ash was right there, time to move on to an only slightly more comfortable topic.
“You’re being nice to me,” I pointed out.
“Of course I’m being nice to you,” he replied.
“I mean, you’re being nice to me when I was a complete idiot and because I was, you had every right to be mad at me. So you were.” I hesitated and finished, “For days.”
“I’ll just…head back to the store,” Mom mumbled before she scooched out.
“Thanks, Mom, and love you!” I shouted to her back.
She raised a hand, waved it, all this while still beating her retreat, and yelling, “Love you too. The both of you.”
“Mathilda.”
At his call, I looked to Ash.
And it was then, I blurted, “I don’t want you hurt. And I don’t want you around in case I get hurt, which will hurt you, and as I said, I don’t want you hurt.”
He bent closer to me, murmuring, “Darling.”
“I so didn’t want that, it made me act like a complete idiot because you should lead our team.”
“Have you pulled together a team?”
“Well, right now it stands at you and me, but only because this is our lot. Also Mack, but I’m having second thoughts about Mack because it isn’t his lot and I don’t want him hurt either so I think we’ll just stick with you and me.”
“I would suggest Gabe and Sar and Trae, if the latter two ever find BeBec.”
I gave that some thought.
Then I said, “Since Gabe is hard to kill, and Sar and Trae are impossible to kill, I accept those suggestions.”
Ash’s lips quirked.
“Mack’s gonna be ticked. I finally give him a job and now I’m going to take it away,” I noted.
“Mack would also be a good addition because he shared with me that he has an arrangement with the school that every summer he takes a three-month sabbatical, and during that time, he acts as a wilderness guide.”
“Although identifying the different flora and fauna in any given area is a useful skill, I’m not sure that’d be a lot of help against the crazy of Agatha Darling and the unknown of the hopefully-not-yet-fully-realized Dark Lord.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thorough in what Mack shared with me. He’s a wilderness guide to trainee survivalists.”
Well, that was different.
“Then I accept that suggestion too.”
That made Ash out-and-out smile.
“Are you mad at me anymore?” I asked.
“No,” he answered.
“Good. Can I wear my ring now?” I asked.
“No,” he answered.
I couldn’t?
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I haven’t given it to you.”
“Yes, you have, rather dramatically, when you threw it at me.”
“Throwing it at you and giving it to you are two different things.”
They sure were.
“But now I know it exists and as such, I can’t exist without wearing it.”
“You’ve known it exists for days and you haven’t worn it and you’ve been fine.”
He was so wrong.
“I haven’t. I’m going crazy knowing it’s right there, and I can’t put it on.”
His face got scary. “Did you try it on?”
I suspected my face got scary too.
With affront.
“How can you ask that?” I snapped. “Of course not. It goes…you get on bended knee. Ask sweetly for my hand in marriage. Then I pretend to consider this when I’m oh-so-totally going to say yes. I take too long in doing that, which peeves you, as is our way. Then I accept, you slide the ring on, we kiss hard, then we open a bottle of champagne, drink two sips, and have wild, passionate sex. Anything else is bad luck, or at least, not dreamy and a good story to share with everyone who asks how you proposed. I can’t say, ‘He threw it at me over the bed while we were fighting, I tried it on when he wasn’t around, it was so glorious, I couldn’t take it off, and then I just started wearing it.’”
“I have a different idea about how I’m going to propose.”
“Does it include bended knee?”
“No.”
“Ash! That’s traditional!”
“Have I done a single thing since you’ve known me that makes you think I’m traditional?”
I wracked my brain.
He started chuckling.
“It’ll be how it is, and you’ll like it,” he announced.
“I better,” I muttered.
“Matty.”
I focused on him.
“You’ll like it,” he said firmly.
I suspected I would.
A whole lot.
So there you go.
I had my first vision in a while.
As usual, it wasn’t a good one.
Ash and I had made up.
And we had our team.
Now Sar and Trae had to find BecBec. I had to ask Cystien to borrow them after they did, call Gabe and see how he felt about coming onboard, and confirm with Mack he was in.
I suspected all of that was going to be the easiest part of all this mess.
And I was going to check that off my to-do list tomorrow, after I fully made up with Ash.
And no, I didn’t intend to do that like you’re thinking (at first).
I was going to spoil him by making his favorite dinner (and dessert).
So that was what I did.
23 July
I suspected wrong that pulling together my team was going to be the easiest part of this mess.
It was not.
I learned this tonight, when Ash and I were cuddling in front of the telly watching The Great British Bake Off.
And I was multi-tasking by daydreaming that not only would Paul Hollywood give a blurb for Lucy and my cookbook, he’d be a guest star on our cookery program.
And this guest-starring bit would include lots and lots of Paul Hollywood Handshakes.
We were interrupted in this when there came a pounding on the door.
“I swear to fuck, if that’s that woman from the FWA, I’m going to wring her tight-assed neck,” Ash threatened as he pushed off the couch.
He opened the door and we discovered it was not Agent Perry (or the non-tight-assed one, Agent Ramirez).
It was Su and Viv.
Both of whom pushed through Ash, coming direct at me.
But it was only Su who jabbed a finger at me.
“What’s this sexist bullshit?” she demanded to know.
“What’s what sexist bullshit?” I demanded to know.
“Your entire team is men, Matty,” Viv declared (irately). “That is sexist bullshit.”
“None of them even have magic,” Su stated (wrongly). “I mean, what the fuck?”
“Sar and Trae have magic,” I reminded her.
“BecBec has magic too, and if she knew you needed her, she’d return to help you,” Viv said to me.
“I think BecBec’s sacrificed enough for me, thankyouverymuch,” I said to her.
“All right then, why aren’t your very own flesh and blood sisters on your team?” Su practically shouted at me.
I jumped off the couch and answered (also shouting), “Because I love you, and Viv, and incidentally Mom and Gran, and I don’t want them in some heinous Saving Private Ryan sitch with all their girls off together fighting baddies.”
“Shit, I hadn’t thought of that,” Viv mumbled to Su.
“Huh!” I did not mumble to both of them.
“It’s still bullshit your team is all men. And newsflash, you could take one of us,” S
u did not mumble to me.
“Okay, so you’re in, and Viv’s Command Central,” I decided on the fly.
“Great,” Su spat.
“I could do that,” Viv said.
“Are you guys done with ruining our night?” I asked. “We were about to re-witness the Great Baked Alaska Scandal.”
“Ooo, that’s a good one,” Viv said.
“Iain was hot when he got all ticked and threw away his bake,” Su said, sitting in my place on the couch.
“And poor Diana. She’d only had it out for a few minutes. But no one knew that,” Viv said, sitting in Ash’s place on the couch.
Su picked up the remote and restarted the show.
Before I could blow my stack that they were cramping my style and took the best viewing-Paul-Hollywood spots, Ash grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bedroom.
There, we finished watching the program in bed, and he only got up in order to lock up after my sisters when they shouted their goodnights.
He came back and got under the covers with me, turned out his light, plunging the room into darkness, then he pulled me into his arms.
“So I guess we have our team,” I said.
“Yes,” he affirmed.
“Now we just need to find them to stop them.”
“Yes,” he repeated.
I sighed.
Ash pulled me closer.
After a bit, Ash whispered, “I’ll keep Su safe too, sweetheart.”
That was when I relaxed.
And after that, fell asleep.
31 July
Tomorrow is the IDLCIG.
I suspect pretty much anything could happen.
1 August
Post-Dated Additional Note, written 29 August:
It did.
2 September
Have not been able to write in my Book o’ Shadows due to the fact I was recovering and then the team and I were on the hunt.
But I’ll fill you in.
And strap in.
’Cause there’s a lot.
First things first, I’m fine and everyone I love is fine.
We all got out alive.
I cannot say the same for everyone that came to the IDLCIG.
Which is tragic.
(Understatement)
But things were such, I’d take what I could get.
And my posse being alive and breathing?
Yeah, I’d definitely take that.
Really, looking back, one could ask how we didn’t foresee they’d take that opportunity to make a statement when so many important personages from the supernatural world were present all in one place.
Then again, there were just two of them and there were hundreds of us.
Who would go up against those odds?
I mean, we knew they were crazy.
We even knew they were crazy.
But I would never have guessed they were that crazy.
Then again, both of them got out alive.
So I guess they weren’t that crazy.
It started pretty frustratingly, to be honest, even before it actually started.
The Gathering, I mean.
There was the whole diplomatic quagmire of who was going to oversee the proceedings. How what was said was going to be translated. Who was going to sit where.
I knew one thing, I didn’t want to run the show.
I knew another thing, it was my show so I had to run it.
So I picked Mavis and Fane as my seconds to stand up front with me and keep everyone in line.
I did this for two reasons.
Everyone respected Mavis, one.
And Fane scared the crap out of everyone, two.
So I thought they’d be perfect.
By the by, had to black out all the windows in the basement and then hire painters and go on an urgent shopping trip to buy a big bed and lots of red accoutrement so Fane could stay with us.
By the by x2, he flew there, at night, closed in a coffin.
By the by x3, that was a little creepy, but it was also Fane, so it was more like creepy cool.
Fortunately, Fane didn’t order a supply of virgins he could deflower while sucking their blood.
So that was a relief.
Anyhoots.
Then Agent Perry contacted me and asked if I’d procured the permits to hold a magickal gathering in a public place.
(I didn’t have to field that one, the minute I got off the phone and shared this with Ash, he took off to the FWA offices, and by the time he got back, he had the permits in hand. I had no idea how he got them, but I took it as a good sign they weren’t bloodstained.)
I had wanted to make a grand entrance on my broomstick, but even though I’d practiced, for the life of me (literally), I could not get my balance on the damned thing, so never got more than four feet off the ground.
In the end, Ash hired us a limo.
So I guess it wasn’t a grand entrance, as such, but at least we got there in style.
Mom, Gran, Mavis, Viv, Ash, Marcus and I poured over the agenda until we thought it was tight, I could keep control of the dialogue (or a semblance of it), and we might be able to get shit done.
The agenda included:
I. The Dark Lord Cometh
II. The Dark Lord Needeth to Be Stoppeth
III. Everyone Was Responsible for Said Stoppage
IV. As Such Modernist Vs. Traditionalist Issues Were Tabled
V. Allocation of Assignments for Stopping the Dark Lord
VI. Adjourn
We didn’t get to item I. by the way.
As soon as I came out on the stage, gave my welcome and declared the Gathering was open (all with a microphone wrapped around my head, not my choice, I wanted to go for the Oprah effect, but Ash didn’t think my wand hand should be busy) immediately, squabbles broke out between the Modernists and the Traditionalists.
(And by the by, I was wearing a killer outfit—black cigarette pants, black and white sleeveless blouse with a fluffy black bow at my neck, kickass high-heeled black sandals.)
No one is squabbling about that shit now.
Everyone is focused.
Very focused.
Now, I could see the attack coming from the front, the back, the flanks.
Not down below.
Never down below.
But as Fane was bellowing, “Order! Order!” and looking like he wanted to rip the throat out of someone, and not in his usual happy way, (and we were only about five minutes in—mental note: the vamp has a wicked-short patience span), the rumbling started.
I’ll hand it to him, Fane cottoned onto the fact that shit was going south right away.
He stopped shouting, “Order!” and started shouting, “Evacuate!”
Ash, never far, was sprinting to me.
But then, this massive twenty by twenty-foot hole opened up in the front section of seats, swallowing all the witches, wizards, sorcerers, sorceresses, werewolves, trolls and goblins seated there.
They tumbled into the hole, screaming.
And all hell broke loose.
We weren’t stupid.
We’re witches, we have power, but we live in these times.
This meant that twice, Su and her coven did a thorough search of the area for runes, hex bags, sigils drawn in dirt or chalked on stone.
Nothing.
There’s been another thorough search since then (probably more than one, as the FBI was now involved, seeing as there was a huge-ass hole in a public arena that looks like it was created by a bomb).
But at least one was conducted by experts in the FWC.
They hadn’t found anything either.
No evidence.
It would take a few days before we got a hint as to how they pulled it off.
And it wasn’t runes, just sayin’.
I’d heard of the cloning spell.
It took a lot of magic.
And a shit-ton of molding putty.
Life-sized golems?
Dozens
of them?
There now might be a shortage of putty on two continents (maybe three).
And a witch that was using a load of magic to create a Dark Lord, when her lackeys—a faerie and another powerful witch—were lost to her, was all kinds of insane for invoking a cloning spell in the midst of her current nefarious undertaking.
But we were talking about Agatha Darling here, so I guess…
No surprise.
This meant that night, she was everywhere.
That being, everywhere I was.
I could not take a step without one of the incarnations of her flinging her wand at me.
And it was taking a lot out of me not to take a header in my high heels at the same time flinging mine back.
Or Dad would take one of them out by grabbing on, turning into a bat, and flying away, carrying it with him.
But then there’d be another one.
Mom would take that one out by sending a Clone Disintegration Spell from her wand and the thing would melt into a puddle of muddy goo.
And then there’d be another one.
Ash was stopping and pivoting us so often, I thought I’d dislocate a hip.
And my ears were ringing because he’d shot (and hit) so many of the damned things.
Furthering dire matters, the clones were sending spells willy-nilly. They didn’t care who they hit (and they hit a lot of folks).
Just as long as, eventually, one of them hit me.
There were those who clued in and joined in taking out the Darling clones.
But for the most part, people just freaked and ran (or flew, or grabbed their broomstick and took off).
It was mayhem.
We were nearly at the limo, and Fane was ripping the head off one of Darling’s golems, when there he was.
Right in front of us.
Bligh.
The impending (not if I had anything to say about it) Dark Lord.
Now, there was a lot I’d seen that I wished I could unsee.
The patchwork of uncooperating donors’ skin grafts done in apparently ill-lit, back alley surgeries on a man who wasn’t all that attractive before all his skin had been burned off when I’d put up a shield to deflect the orb o’ elfin magic Scary Faerie had sent our way during the Battle of The Tor was indescribably, well…
The Rise of the Dark Lord Page 21