Witch Tease

by Cindy Keen Reynders

  “That’s where research comes into play.” Dr. Sprinklebright patted her gray bun, then walked over to a shelf and removed a thick book titled, ‘Magical Species and Medical Conditions.’

  Muttering to herself, she opened the pages and searched through them. “Ah, here we go, I found the wulver chapter.”

  Dr. Sprinklebright cleared her throat and began reading. “Wulvers are a kind of humanoid wolf creature. They hail from the Shetland Islands off the coast of Scotland. If left in peace, as they prefer, they are not aggressive. The wulver is a shapeshifter and is an immortal spirit. Males reach about six feet at a mature age and females are usually a few inches shorter. They typically have blondish-red or brown hair and both sexes are unusually strong, with muscular features. Wulver families live in packs and the species remain fiercely loyal to their bloodline. They typically live near water and are fond of fishing. Kind-hearted, they help others less fortunate, but don’t seek recognition. Many prefer to be mysterious loners. Medical Facts: Wulvers are rarely sick and carry no known diseases. Pregnancies feature a gestation period of thirty days. Wulver babies are born with human features and their magical tendencies, such as shape shifting, do not usually manifest until the age of ten.”

  “Stinking bat’s breath! I don’t have very long before this child will arrive.” Lizzie hugged herself and shivered. The pastoral paintings of flowers and landscapes hanging on the walls did not calm her, as they were probably meant to. “I need to get ready.”

  “The good news is you can raise the little one just like a human child for the first ten years,” Dr. Sprinklebright said. “Then you’ll need to get some advice. But that gives you time to prepare.”

  “True,” Lizzie said, still feeling miserable and all alone.

  “I want to perform an ultrasound now,” Dr. Sprinklebright said. “Would you like me to call in your mother and your aunt?”

  “Yes, please.”

  At the door, the doctor asked her nurse to call in Lizzie’s family. A few moments later, Aunt Aggie and her mother walked into the room. Their faces held tense lines, but they wore reassuring smiles.

  “First off, Lizzie is healthy,” Dr. Sprinklebright told them. “I’ve never treated a patient bearing a wulver child before, so this is all new to me. But I assure you, I’ll do everything I can to make sure things progress as they should.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Sprinklebright,” Dendera said.

  “As you have suspected, Lizzie’s pregnancy won’t be like other witches with the typical nine months of gestation. She will deliver in approximately 20 days, give or take.”

  Both Dendera and Aggie sucked in their breath and looked at each other in amazement.

  “Because of that, I want you to stop by every morning, Lizzie, so I can monitor your progress.”

  Lizzie nodded.

  “My nurse will give you some prenatal vitamins on your way out of the office today and you should take one each morning. Meanwhile, stretch out on your back and lift your blouse. Let’s get this ultrasound started.”

  Lizzie did as Dr. Sprinklebright directed. The doctor dropped sacred lavender water on her abdomen, muttered an incantation, then waved her wand. Golden sparkles burst like a gigantic firework, then a cloudy image appeared over her belly.

  When it cleared, Lizzie gasped.

  “Oh my Goddess!” Lizzie saw not just one fetus, but two.

  “Ah, ha, just as I suspected,” Dr. Sprinklebright said. “And you can tell by the little, ah, willies, that they are boys.”

  “Twin brothers.” Dendera began sniffling and Aunt Aggie squeezed her hand. “It’s such a blessing.”

  One tiny being sucked its thumb and the other began kicking. They were so small, so vulnerable. Lizzie realized she and Kincaid had created these lives. Strength washed over her and she knew she would be able to handle this. Then, she filled with awe at the miracle of life. Fierce, protective feelings replaced her confusion and fear.

  No one would hurt her babies. No one.

  “Ooh, I felt that,” she said, placing a hand on her stomach when one of the babies kicked again. “I’m overwhelmed, though. If I thought I didn’t know how to take care of one baby, now I’ve got two.”

  “We’ll help, sweetheart,” Dendera said. “No worries. And your father will be over the moon.”

  “And so will Kincaid,” Lizzie added, more determined than ever to rescue him. “Once we get Queen Dana to release him.”

  “Of course, dear.” Dendera and Aggie exchanged concerned looks.

  “We will free him,” Lizzie said sternly. “He is going to help me raise these boys. There’s no way he’s going to get out of this.”

  Despite her declaration, deep down, Lizzie couldn’t help but be worried about how she’d be able to convince the Faery queen to release Kincaid.

  ***

  Lizzie, her mother, and Aunt Aggie spent the rest of the day in Wysteria shopping. They purchased two of everything: cribs, clothes, blankets, bottles, toys, and countless other necessities like diapers and a sturdy double stroller that she could use while jogging.

  Satisfaction washed through Lizzie as she glanced around the streets and businesses that the banshees had devastated. Just as the Royal Witch Arena had been restored once the banshees were destroyed, the city had been restored. Nothing seemed out of place and people seemed content.

  Pleased she’d had a hand in saving Wysteria, she smiled. Then it faded. How she wished Kincaid had been able to return with her so he could see what they had accomplished together.

  Going through the motions of gathering baby items seemed like a dream. She anticipated seeing her little sons, but still longed for Kincaid to be part of the blessed event. Considering her limited time before the babies’ arrival, she realized she’d have to work fast to find a way to bring Kincaid home.

  Exhaustion took hold of Lizzie as the day progressed. After stopping at a small café for lunch, they loaded their haul in her parents’ roomy Chevrolet Traverse. The rest of the day involved setting up the bedroom next to Lizzie’s for the twins.

  After eating dinner and helping clear the table, Lizzie finally relaxed. Standing in her room in front of the open window, a cool breeze brushed her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she imagined cuddling two blue bundles of joy.

  “What will I name my sons?” Again, Lizzie wished Kincaid were here. He would know exactly what to call them. She rubbed her tummy. “I’ll think about it tomorrow, boys. I’m too wound up tonight.”

  Hearing a knock, she opened her door. Wren swept back and forth across the floorboards as she entered the room. “Devochka, I came up to see if I can help you with anything.”

  “Thanks, Wren. I appreciate your company.”

  With a flash of insight, she realized her father might have what she needed to find a way to return to the Hag’s Mountain. He never bragged about all of his adventures, but when he was younger, he had traveled to many forbidden locations. It was entirely possible he’d even entered the Land of the Fae.

  “Actually, you can. I need to borrow a book from my father’s office.”

  “That should be easy,” Wren said.

  “Not really,” Lizzie said. “It’s his Book of Shadows and he keeps that locked in a cupboard.”

  “Why?”

  Lizzie shrugged. “My sisters and I were always curious about it when we were little, but he said it held information that could get us in trouble. He keeps helpful spells in his Grimoire and we are allowed to use it for reference, but his Book of Shadows has always been off limits.”

  “So James Rose is a man of many secrets,” Wren mused. “Knock on wood and sweep the floor.”

  “I’m sure he has his reasons,” Lizzie said. “But I’m desperate to find a way back to Kincaid. And Dad’s Book of Shadows may hold the correct information.”

  “Remember your condition, Devochka.”

  Lizzie nodded. “Which is exactly why I need to get my hands on that book. I don’t have much time.”

 
Wren swept a spot in a corner, scooped dust bunnies on her bristles and dumped them in a trash can.

  “How do you propose we get into that locked cupboard?” Wren pounced around the room, checking for anything else she might need to clean. “It’s not like we can march downstairs in front of everyone and start trying to break in.”

  Lizzie began to pace, her mind whirling with ideas. “Later, when everyone is asleep, we’ll go down to his office and pick the lock.”

  “I don’t like that, Devochka. Sneaking around isn’t my style. It’s not yours, either.”

  “Sorry, I can’t help it.” Lizzie sat on her bed. “Kincaid’s welfare is at stake.”

  “Oh, boy,” Wren said.

  “Oh, boy is right,” Lizzie said. “Actually, two baby boys who need their daddy.”

  ***

  When Lizzie and Wren crept downstairs later, the hands on the Roses’ grandfather clock told her it was exactly midnight, and the vintage timepiece chimed 12 times.

  “Courage, discipline, fidelity, and honor,” Lizzie murmured. “Come to me at this midnight hour. Help me locate what I need, give me insight to find my creed…”

  Lizzie opened the door to her father’s office, allowing Wren to pounce past her into the room. She closed the door and leaned against the wooden panels.

  “I don’t like this,” Wren whispered.

  “Neither do I,” Lizzie said in a soft tone. “But I have to do this.”

  “Stubborn witch.”

  “No, desperate witch,” Lizzie corrected her bossy broom as she approached her father’s tall oak cabinet. Upon her first attempt to open the door to the compartment that held his Book of Shadows, it wouldn’t budge.

  Lizzie stood back and held out her hands.

  “Aperire,” she said. The door rattled, but remained closed.

  “Your father locked the cupboard tight, Devochka. Let’s go.” Wren moved toward the door, and Lizzie grabbed her handle.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

  “Out of here. It’s no use trying to play cat burglar. Your father’s magic is too clever.”

  “There’s another spell I want to try,” Lizzie told her.

  She cleared her throat and envisioned the lock sliding free. Appealing to the properties of earth, water, air, and fire, she pleaded, “Elemental power I invoke, clear the way like wind blows smoke. Powers stir and build in me, as I will, so mote it be!”

  A click sounded, and the cupboard door popped open. Success! Relieved, Lizzie reached for the leather book covered in gold symbols. Before she could grab it, the volume slid from the compartment and flapped toward the ceiling.

  “Holy splinters,” Wren exclaimed. “I think we’re in trouble. Your father bewitched his Book of Shadows so no one could lay hands on it.”

  Lizzie jumped and tried to grab it, but it bounced away from her and darted into a corner, where it hovered. Hustling over, she tried to get it again, but it fluttered to the other side of the room. Frustrated, she grabbed hold of Wren’s handle and lifted her up.

  “Wh…what are you doing, Devochka!”

  Lizzie lifted up Wren and swiped at the book. “Sorry, girl. I need your help.”

  “Arghhh!” Wren screeched.

  Again, Lizzie did her best to bring down the stubborn tome.

  “Excuse me, I am not a flyswatter!” Wren declared. “I haven’t an ounce of plastic or wire in my wooden bones.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Lizzie said. “You have the right stuff.”

  “Aieee,” Wren bellowed as Lizzie managed to smack the volume.

  It fell on the floor with a loud thump.

  Lizzie put Wren down and picked up the book. Catching her breath, she glanced at the door. Any minute now, she expected her mother or father to storm into the office, wondering what might be going on.

  The door remained closed.

  “Thank the stars we didn’t disturb anyone,” Lizzie said.

  “So you think,” Wren said as she pivoted around, showing off her crushed and disarrayed bristles. “If you didn’t notice, I’m slightly disturbed.”

  “I’ll get you all fixed up tomorrow. Right now, I need to see if my dad ever traveled to the Land of the Fae. Hopefully he recorded the spell he used.”

  Lizzie placed the Book of Shadows on the desk and opened it. She thumbed through the pages, anxious to find what she needed. Wren pounced up beside her.

  “Ouchie, ooh, ugg,” the broom complained with each movement.

  “Here’s a spell for opening your third eye, an enemy binding spell, how to use graveyard dirt in spells to communicate with the dead or deciding which path to choose at a crossroads in life…” Lizzie thumbed through every page of spells and incantations, her anxiety rising.

  “There isn’t a single entry about traveling to the Land of the Fae,” she said.

  “Check the back cover,” Wren suggested. “I believe I saw a pocket.”

  Lizzie flipped pages until she reached the end of the grimoire. A parchment pocket, barely visible, appeared.

  “You have a keen eye, my friend,” Lizzie said as she withdrew a piece of stained and torn paper and read it. “Oh, no!”

  “What does it say?” Wren asked.

  “Travel to lands afar is strictly forbidden without approval from the Supreme Witch’s Council,” Lizzie read aloud, her heart sinking. “They hold secret the ways and means of reaching all sacred and mystical places.”

  Unhappy, Lizzie returned the book to the cupboard and closed the door. The lock clicked. She sat at the desk, held her head in her hands, and groaned.

  “Sons of Methuselah. We’re back to square one. I feel like giving up.”

  “But you won’t,” Wren said encouragingly.

  Lizzie looked up at her broom. “Of course not.”

  “This is a minor setback, Devochka.”

  “I’ll have to plead and grovel with the council, but they have to help me return to the Land of the Fae.” Lizzie patted her swollen abdomen. “My boys need their father.”

  “That’s the spirit, my friend,” Wren said.

  “First thing tomorrow, I’ll make an appointment to talk with Constance Hawkthorne. Nothing’s going to stop me from rescuing Kincaid.”

  “I’ll be with you all the way, Devochka.” Wren tapped Lizzie’s shoulder with her handle. “I’m with you all the way.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Anticipation caused Kincaid’s heart to pump faster as he piloted Iolar into the familiar cove where he and Lizzie had originally set off for the Land of the Fae. A large round sun showered the Oregon green coastline with vibrance and warmth. It seemed as though Mother Nature welcomed him back to Wysteria.

  “By the wulver gods, it looks like spring vegetation,” Kincaid said, disturbed by the change of seasons. He frowned.

  When the banshees chased Lizzie and him from Wysteria, the shrubbery had burst with the gold and rust brilliance of autumn. Months, or perhaps years, had passed since their departure.

  How long have I been gone?

  His stomach twisted, but he had to focus on finding Lizzie.

  First things first.

  At last, he was returning to his woman—his wife. It seemed odd to think of her that way, especially since he’d been a confirmed bachelor for so long. Yet, pride shot through him at the idea he had acquired a life partner. And knowing it was Lizzie warmed his soul.

  Thank the wulver gods nothing had gone wrong with the instructions he’d programmed into Iolar and the vessel had returned to him. After his escape from the Hag’s Mountain, he’d been overjoyed to find Iolar waiting for him in the same location where he and Lizzie had disembarked.

  Iolar had needed some minor repairs, which unfortunately delayed his journey back to Lizzie. Nevertheless, he’d made steady progress preparing the ship to be seaworthy and ready for dimensional shifts.

  “Curse Queen Dana and her golden prison,” he muttered.

  If only he’d remembered about Sorcha’s
silver arm cuff before he’d offered himself as the sacrifice. All of this drama would have been avoided. He and Lizzie could have returned to Wysteria together.

  While he’d been held hostage in the Hag’s Mountain catacombs, time had passed with no beginning and no end. It could have been mere months; it could have been a hundred years. Kincaid shook his head. He wouldn’t know for certain until he found Lizzie.

  If he found Lizzie.

  He had no doubt that with the magical harp’s assistance, she’d defeated Sorcha and the banshees. However, if decades or maybe even centuries had passed since they’d parted, she might have moved on to somewhere new.

  Or to someone new.

  Refusing to entertain that idea for long, he moored Iolar and jumped into the shallows. He sloshed toward shore, stopping to rinse his hands and splash water on his face. The mirrored surface reflected his scruffy beard. He probably should have shaved, but in his haste, he hadn’t wanted to spare even a few minutes. Pulse racing with anticipation, he walked onto the beach and stopped by a boulder.

  The quickest way to get to Lizzie’s house would require him to transform. A wolf could definitely run faster than a man. As he concentrated, he felt his bones shift and he heard their resounding crunch. Hair sprouted on his hand, and his clothes split apart as his limbs elongated and changed shape.

  It had been some time since he’d transformed into the 95-pound canine, so he flexed his paws and wagged his tail, growing accustomed to his furry animal counterpart. The scent of salt water seemed stronger as he wriggled his snout. He pricked his ears when he heard ocean waves crashing in the distance. Birds called to one another and small animals rustled through the undergrowth along the sandy hills.

  As a man, he hadn’t seen or heard these things so distinctly. As a wolf, he soaked it all in.

  Run to Lizzy.

  He scrambled up the steep dirt bank until he reached the hilltop. Then he began running through a field in the direction of Lizzie’s home. After a while, he heard someone singing.

  The song was sweet, but haunting.

  He caught sight of a woman walking along a trail. Long, dark hair swirled around her shoulders and white sundress. He stopped and perked his ears. His tongue slid through his fangs and he began panting.