Witch's Guide to a Magical Life

by Donna McDonald

  Sir Grumpus nodded. “I have a great-great-grandson from my great-granddaughter’s second marriage. The boy’s father was a direct descendant of Merlin, not that I think that really matters all that much these days. Merlin was as crazy as a loon when I knew him, and that got worse as he aged. Of course, I was just a child back then, so everyone older than me seemed crazy.”

  Carol blinked, but it didn’t help. Sir Grumpus knew Merlin? Holy Goddess. She tried doing the math in her head and failed. “Exactly how old are you?”

  The warlock turned his head and laughed, or at least Carol thought it was a laugh.

  “Old enough to not have to answer that kind of personal question.”

  “How old is your great-great-grandson?”

  “Close to sixty, I think—I tend to forget ages.”

  “Sixty? That’s old too—not old like you—but old.”

  “My family has good genes. Haven’t you heard that age is relative? You’re turning thirty soon.”

  Carol chuckled. Chalk up a direct hit for the old fart. Sir Grumpus had gotten a good burn in.

  “And I suppose you want me to add your great-great-grandson to my posse?”

  “Only if Harry meets your standards.”

  “Well, Harry will have to meet some really high standards—really, really high,” Carol said while wondering what kind of freaking standards she was supposed to have for warlocks.

  She should probably take the former Jezibaba up on her offer to help hire her posse, especially since having good fashion sense had already been vetoed and marked off the criteria list.

  But what else was there to value in a group of guys who were going to be interfering with her work constantly? And none of them were ever going to be like Ahmed.

  Ahmed…

  Her heart sank once more at the thought of losing her familiar—and her chance to be with the human version of a male who’d taken care of her for so long. The sad moment was broken when her stomach chose to growl loudly yet again.

  “I have to go. You can send your descendent to see me,” Carol said quickly before she could change her mind.

  “I will. Thank you for considering him, Great One.”

  Carol nodded at him using her title to butter her up. Hiring someone from the grumpy old fart’s lineage likely was a bad idea. What if Harry turned out to be a sixty-year-old version of the warlock in front of her.

  “I’m interviewing warlocks tomorrow. This breakout is probably going to be their first project. Is your great-great-grandson any good at scrying for bad guys?”

  “No.”

  “How about cauldron divination to predict the future?”

  Sir Grumpus snorted. “Parlor tricks? Is that what you really want from your warlocks?”

  Carol shook her head. “Well, no. Of course not. I want…” Her stomach growled loudly again. She rubbed it and glared at the old warlock. “I need helpers who will make sure I always eat no matter how distracted I get.”

  “Speaking of your work…” Sir Grumpus said as he lifted one bony finger. “Your solution to getting rid of the giant on Amazon Island was brilliant, and probably the only thing that would have worked. Necromanced creatures are tough to kill, especially since they’re already dead.”

  Surprised by the praise, and wary that the old geezer knew where she’d been, Carol blinked and stared for a full minute before answering.

  “Uh… thank you… I guess,” she finally mumbled.

  “Don’t get too worked up. It’s not like you’re going to always to be that resourceful. The odds are heavily against your continued success, which is why I thought you might need the encouragement now while you’re still adjusting to the responsibilities of your role in the magical world.”

  Exasperated, Carol fisted a hand on her hip. “Look, Lord Know-It-All—I’m doing the best I freaking can. It’s not like anyone gave me any witch’s guide to a magical life to use for a reference. I’m winging this witch protectress gig in real time the same way my predecessors all did.”

  “Winging it? What kind of strategy is that?”

  Working hard not to zap him, Carol lifted her hand to take her leave. “I’m going to go home and have dinner. Tell your great-great-grandson I’ll see him tomorrow.”

  “Wait… I need to tell you one more thing about Harry.”

  Fascinated by the urgency in his voice every time he mentioned the mysterious Harry, Carol’s hand dropped once more. “You better hurry then before my stomach noises drown out your explanation.”

  Sir Grumpus lifted both hands and held them out. “Harry has a bit of a problem being taken seriously. I’ve concluded it’s because he’s stuck in the 80s. His clothes and his taste in music are both atrocious, but he’s got a lot of positives going for him if you look below the surface. It is my sincere hope that his quirks don’t put you off.”

  Carol smiled at the defense. Was sixty a boy to Sir Grumpus? Maybe that’s why he said age was relative. Sixty probably would seem young to someone who was a gazillion years old.

  “No worries. I like your great-great-grandson already. In my opinion, trends from the 80s are classic.”

  “Given your typical attire, I somehow thought you might think that way,” Sir Grumpus said with an eye roll. “Okay. That was all I needed to tell you. You can leave now.”

  Carol raised her hand again, then dropped it to glare. Even Zenos didn’t order her around that boldly—at least not now that she was the Baba Yaga. “Since when do I need your permission to leave?”

  Sir Grumpus snorted. “It was a figure of speech.”

  “It was dismissive, and I hate being dismissed,” Carol insisted, wincing internally when Sir Grumpus the human Shar-Pei grinned again.

  “Well, now you know how the warlocks you fired felt when they got kicked to the curb.”

  Huffing in exasperation, Carol lifted her hand and gave him a middle finger salute.

  She glared at his chuckle before poofing out of sight.

  4

  With the smell of pizza filling her house, Carol sat at her kitchen table and tore into her third slice. She ate several bites before finally taking a hunger sated breath.

  When was the last time she had food? She honestly couldn’t remember. She really hadn’t been joking about needing someone to make sure she ate regularly. That should keep at least one warlock busy and out of her hair. Now she just had to figure out what to do with the other seven.

  “Let’s talk, Ahmed. Is your fiancée pretty? Is she smart?”

  When there was no answer except a doggie rumble from the floor, Carol glared down at Ahmed lying beside her feet. “Stop brooding, change into a human, and talk to me. Put on some real clothes this time. I don’t want to be distracted by your naked chest.”

  The dog grunted and then morphed into his djinn form. He had dressed himself in an outfit that belonged in an Arabian Nights movie before taking the chair opposite her. Rolling her eyes at his choice, Carol waved a hand and changed his clothes to a pair of snug-fitting jeans and a white t-shirt.

  He looked astounding. She knew he would.

  Ahmed looked down at himself. “Why did you dress me this way? This clothing is constricting.”

  Carol grinned. She was in a better mood now that she’d eaten. “You can go back to wearing your man pajamas tomorrow. I’m indulging my fantasies about you in the only way I can. I may not be able to touch you, but I can still look, which is all I’m ever going to be able to do. You know it… and I know it.”

  “No. What I know is that you could touch me if you wanted. I would let you do that. I want you to do that,” Ahmed admitted.

  “And what happens if I do? What happens if I never want to stop touching you?” Carol asked quietly, not meeting his handsome djinn gaze. She wiped pizza sauce off her fingers with a napkin instead. “If you’re promised to another woman, by my rule book touching is not allowed.”

  “Love has no rules,” Ahmed declared.

  “Boundaries then,” Carol suggeste
d, meeting his gaze at last.

  Their discussion of Ahmed’s impending nuptials was a serious conversation that needed to be had. On her way home—despite her hunger—she’d stopped off at the sacred grove Hildy had helped her grow. While there, she’d given his whole betrothal thing a lot of thought. She’d given Ahmed a lot of thought.

  And then she’d given her own strange life some deep consideration.

  Because she was strong and powerful and confident, men often thought that meant she was emotionally bulletproof… but she wasn’t. Her heart still sought that one male who’d be her perfect match.

  Despite her refusal to admit it, she’d been secretly looking for her perfect love mate since she’d tuned in accidentally to the kind of love Chuck felt for Hildy.

  Their love match was nothing short of amazing, probably because that kind of wholehearted acceptance was so rare. Her friend was lucky to have found it in life. Carol had found it once and lost it. Now it looked like she was going to miss another chance.

  Oh, she could enjoy men that weren’t “the one,” but Ahmed wasn’t going to be one of those either. She cared too much about him, and he was already in her heart. Ahmed could never be a temporary solace kind of bed partner. Nor would she want him to be. So what was left?

  After a few hours of soul-searching, Carol had decided she truly wanted the djinn who’d served her so well to be happy with the rest of his nearly immortal life. But she and Ahmed couldn’t be a happy couple together. Carol could never ever again in her life commit her heart to a man who was committed to a woman other than her. Once had been a painful enough life lesson about love. She had no plans to repeat her situation with Iren over and over.

  She could stop this cycle right now by saying no.

  “I do not understand, Carol. I have admitted that I have a lustful longing for you instead of Ibarra. Isn’t that the point of your questioning?”

  Carol narrowed her eyes. Hildy was right. Males were all dense—no matter the species. Too bad they were so much fun in bed. “No, Ahmed. That is not the point. Are you eventually going to marry the woman you’re betrothed to? Answer me a straight yes or no.”

  Ahmed opened his mouth, held up a finger, and then lowered it to reluctantly nod. “Yes. I am going to marry Ibarra eventually. She is a pleasant enough person, and it is my duty to unite my family with hers. The survival of our djinn species is at stake, Carol. But you will only live a fraction of my long life. We could enjoy our time together while you live. Ibarra will understand when I tell her that you own a part of my heart. She has loved others as well.”

  “When was the last time you saw Ibarra?”

  Ahmed shrugged. “Sometime last century, I believe.”

  Carol’s eyes widened. “Dude, that’s like forever. She’s probably a whole new person by now.”

  “A djinn does not change as quickly as other species.”

  “I still think you’re smoking something if you think Ibarra wouldn’t mind you spending another century with me.”

  Confidence growing by the minute that she was right, Carol pointed her Baba Yaga finger.

  “Dude, even if Ibarra accepted our situation, I am not that open-minded. I’m definitely one of those females who doesn’t like to share anything—especially my men.”

  “Perhaps once you have reflected on my offer, you might reconsider.”

  “I can’t believe I’ve been waiting all this time for you to talk to me.” Carol stood and gathered up the remnants of her meal. “Guess I’m glad you told me up front… oh wait, you didn’t tell me. The Jezibaba told me about Ibarra. Do you know what really gripes my ass, Ahmed? You were just going to sleep with me and then drop your commitment to Ibarra into breakfast conversation. A woman deserves better than that.”

  Ahmed sighed. “That is a horrible way to look at our potential relationship. The span of my life is not like yours. I view commitments differently. Honoring Ibarra takes nothing away from you.”

  “If you really think that way, you know nothing about real love at all.” Carol eased up when she realized she was crushing the pizza box in her hands. She sighed and tried to let go of her disappointment. “I refuse to be angry with you, Ahmed. You’re leaving soon, and I want us to part as friends. I don’t have that many, and I can’t afford to lose one—not even a chauvinist male pig one who thinks it’s okay to dangle multiple women.”

  “That is an unfair assessment. I have not once mentioned the other men in your life.”

  “True… but after Iren, I made sure none of them were engaged or married or even in a serious relationship. And you were a dog or a camel or a Thunderbird. You were never a guy. I didn’t have romantic feelings for you during any of that time. It’s only been in the last few months that I started wondering about what you would be like as a man.”

  “You do not have to wonder any longer,” Ahmed declared, sweeping his hands wide. “I can satisfy your curiosity about everything and am most anxious to do so.”

  Carol shook her head. “That’s tempting, but no thanks. I’m grown up now and far less needy. I suggest you take all those years of sexual frustration back to Ibarra and give that energy to her since she’s your fiancée. I want someone I will never have to share with anyone else—not even as a potential. Can you understand that?”

  Ahmed lifted his hands. “No. All I understand is that you are refusing to indulge your feelings for me.”

  “As you have pointed out, I can get sex when I want and need it. Finding love—real love—is way harder for the Baba Yaga than fighting ten necromanced giants all at once.” She shook her head again. “Can you wrap your head around us being nothing but the best of friends going forward? If you can’t, you might as well leave now because that’s all I can offer you.”

  “I could try to adjust to your illogical decision, but I prefer to keep hoping you will come to your senses. I am here and finally free to be with you as a man wishes to be with a woman he desires.”

  Carol sighed. He was not going to make this easy for her. “I don’t want to lose you, Ahmed, but that’s never going to happen now that I know about Ibarra.”

  “How can you be so certain? I’ve spent all our nights together in your bed.”

  “As a dog,” Carol pointed out. “You can continue to sleep with me, but it has to always be in dog form. Deal?”

  She carried her trash to dispose of it and did not turn back to see if he agreed with her dictates or not. She was not letting a djinn ring her bells for a short time then run off to ring some other woman’s bells for the rest of his immortal life.

  As soon as she assembled her stupid warlock posse, she was taking a short break to visit Hildy. She needed someone to tell her she was doing the right thing.

  Adulting was hard and being honorable sucked.

  5

  Carol conjured a tent in her backyard to protect her activities from the sun and from whatever might pass overhead. Ahmed put a sign out front directing the warlocks around the house to the back.

  The first guy to arrive was wearing a white t-shirt, a black suit jacket with shoulder pads, round sunglasses, and a British bowler hat. Around his neck was a necklace with an ‘I heart 80s’ charm on it.

  This had to be the mysterious Harry. If she hadn’t met his great-great-grandgeezer, she would have thought he was a kid. The man looked like a fifteen-year-old playing dress-up.

  Carol crossed her arms and grinned. “The mysterious Harry, I presume?”

  The warlock rolled the hat off his head to his fingertips like a stage magician, caught it lightly, and then bowed. “It is my pleasure to meet the infamous Baba Yaga.”

  “Don’t you mean famous?” Carol asked.

  Harry grinned. “No… though you are famous as well.”

  Carol chuckled at his honesty. “I can appreciate a no bullshit approach. You’re hired.”

  “Wait… just like that? I did a bunch of stuff to impress you. Can I at least show you my magic before you make your decision?”


  Carol lifted a shoulder and grinned. “Sure. Why not?” She liked a warlock. This was turning out to be a fantastic day.

  Harry pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. Carol snickered as she took it from his fingers. It was folded into what looked like some sort of origami design.

  “Put it into your palm, please.”

  “Glad to see you’re more polite than your great-great-grandgeezer.”

  “Grandgeezer?” Harry chuckled. “Bet he’d loved being called that.”

  Carol felt Ahmed morph from a dog into his shirtless self. He was once again wearing harem pants. She shook her head and worked to ignore him as best she could.

  Harry turned and bowed to Ahmed. “Greetings, Great Djinn Prince. It is my honor to meet you.”

  Ahmed leaned down to her ear. “I do not like him. He is too cheerful,” he whispered.

  “You don’t have to like him—I do,” Carol said, holding out her palm with the folded paper in it. “Now what?”

  Harry pointed at the folded paper and muttered a quick word she didn’t catch. The paper unfolded and turned into a palm-sized notepad.

  She laughed at the trick. “Thanks for the magical stationery.”

  Harry stuck out his bottom lip. “I’m hurt that you think so little of my talent.”

  “Why?” Carol asked with a giggle. Harry was at least entertaining, which was hell and far from what most warlocks were like.

  “Because that notepad contains a list of all the magicals coming to see you today. Each page is a different one. All you must do is say each warlock’s name and the notepad will open to their particulars. I worked on it all night to get it finished for you.”

  “Really? Let’s try it on you. Harry of…”

  Carol looked up and waited for him to fill in the rest. She grinned when Harry scratched his nose.

  “Sorry, but I’m not in there. I didn’t think about putting in myself just my competition.”