“Buzzshit,” they shouted happily.
Oh well, I suppose it was good that asshat or motherfucker or crusty butt-whacker hadn’t been their first word. Not that bullshit was great, but everything could always be worse.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m not exactly the kind of warlock one wants to bring home to their mother,” Bermangoggleshitz pointed out, digging into the fried chicken and mashed potatoes Jeeves had made.
The diner was full of happy Shifters eating the delicious food Jeeves had cooked. The Assjacket Diner was one of my favorite places in town. It was full of charming décor and delicious aromas. The tables were all a dark heavy wood covered in charming Shabby Chic-ish tablecloths and kitschy mismatched napkins. Floral teacups and saucers like a grandma should have sat atop the tables and screamed for the Shifters to drink from them with an extended pinkie. It was fabulous. Wanda and DeeDee, the owners, were milling around refreshing iced teas and tempting people with their melt in your mouth desserts.
Thankfully Fabio had been correct about the first word debacle. Mac laughed when I’d told him what our babies had said. However, he’d laughed so hard I thought he might choke when I revealed Fabio’s new name. I had a feeling he’d be referring to my dad as Crapass from now on. That should go over outstandingly. Mac and my dad had a mostly polite truce as my dad was still a little put out that I’d mated with a werewolf instead of a warlock.
“Well, since Marge and Baba Yomamma don’t have a mother anymore, you should be fine,” I said, cutting up chicken into tiny pieces for Henry and Audrey. My babies were covered in mashed potatoes and digging into the green beans like they were candy. They were fabulous eaters—just like their momma.
I didn’t realize Fabdudio, Mac and Roy were staring at me in shock, until I noticed the entire table was silent.
“What?”
“They still have a mother,” Fabio said with a shudder.
“I call bullpoop on that. Marge did say her mom was a gaping jackhole of massive proportions, but she talked about her in past tense. Anyhoo, I’m still not sold that they actually had a mom at all. I’m positive they were hatched by aliens who then sold them because they were such nightmares.”
“While that’s an interesting theory, it’s not quite right, babe,” Mac said, passing me the hot sauce that I loved to put on all my food.
“Seriously? I was sure I was right,” I said with a laugh, handing Audrey back the sippy cup that she’d just lobbed at her brother.
“I always thought they were created by the Goddess—kind of like Frankenstein,” Sassy announced. “And that Baba Yaga’s bobble-headed warlock posse were all pooped out by aliens in an explosion of diarrhea.”
“I like that story better,” I told her with a high five.
“Buzzit,” Henry yelled, raising his little fists full of green beans in the air.
“Doooraaa!” Audrey squealed and giggled as she hurled her mashed potato covered sippy cup at Crapass.
Fabio paled and caught the cup as he leaned into Audrey. “How do you know that?” he asked my daughter in a strangled whisper.
“Know what?” I asked, alarmed. “What’s a Doooraaa?”
“Endora,” Bermangoggleshitz whispered in a shaky voice.
“Who is Endora?” I demanded. I wasn’t in the mood to play the guessing game and I wasn’t into anyone being cryptic at the moment. I had green beans in my hair and mashed potatoes on my shirt. That was all the fun and games I was up for.
“Endora is Baba Yaga and Marge’s mother,” Mac explained, paling just like my father had.
My laugh was loud and all three men glanced around the diner in fear. “Her name is Endora? Like the mom in Bewitched?”
“Exactly like the mom in Bewitched,” Bermangoggleshitz whispered, still looking around warily.
“Painfully like the mother in Bewitched,” Fabio added, following Roy’s lead and scanning the diner.
“She is the mother from Bewitched,” Mac said with a small shudder.
“Hold the fuck up,” Sassy said with a laugh. “That was a freakin’ TV show and the mom was an actress.”
“Sassy, the word fuck is now replaced with fark,” I told her, nodding at the listening babies. “We have repeaters.”
“My bad,” Sassy apologized. “I meant hold the fark up. That was a farkin’ TV show and the mom was a motherfarkin’ actress. Better?”
“Much,” I replied with an eye roll. “The joke is a little funny, guys. But it’s not that funny.”
“Not a joke,” Fabio said. “Endora wanted to be a star so she took the stage name Agnes Moorehead and auditioned for Bewitched. The original script had named the matriarch, Glinda, but Endora did a little voodoo and had the name changed.”
“You’re shitting me,” I said. I’d done some crazy things, but that was bizarre.
“I shit you not,” Fabio said. “She glamoured herself to age and then eventually had to let Agnes die so no one would be the wiser.”
“So she’s alive?” Sassy asked.
Bermangoggleshitz nodded gravely. “Endora is definitely alive.”
This was some seriously unwelcome news if the reactions of my father, Roy and Mac were anything to go by. Not to mention Marge’s horrible earlier description of her. “And how does Audrey know about her?”
“My guess is that Endora has paid the children a visit or two,” Fabio whispered.
“How in the Goddesses jockstrap did a witch show up here in Assjacket and I didn’t know about it?” I demanded.
I’d warded the entire town and Mac was able to sense foreign magic in his kingdom. There was no way a witch got in here without our knowledge.
“She’s older than dirt,” Bermangoggleshitz said. “She can do things no one else can.”
“Like kidnap my children?” I snapped as glittering black zaps of magic exploded from my fingertips and set the table on fire.
Waving her chubby little hands, Audrey created a rainstorm above our table and Henry—not to be outdone by his sister—added a few claps of thunder.
Amazingly the Shifters of Assjacket barely even looked up from their meals. Weird was our normal. I supposed a couple of bolts of lightning might make them pause, but a little indoor rain during dinner was par for the course.
“I’m certain she was just curious,” Fabio said, clearly unsure if he was correct. “She’s not exactly evil if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Define evil,” Roy said, squinting at Fabio.
“How about this…” Fabio reworded his description at Roy’s urging. “She’s not mean. Wait that’s not right. She’s not insane.”
“Not right either,” Roy said.
“Okay, she’s not vicious.”
“Again, define vicious,” Roy insisted.
“Fine,” Fabio huffed. “She’s right out of her debatably insane mind. She’s the most terrifying woman I’ve ever come across. She has eye shadow issues and rumor has it, she enjoys turning warlocks into chia pets.”
“Not a rumor,” Bermangoggleshitz cut in. “My school chum Dirk was a chia playful puppy for a century.”
“You guys are for real?” I questioned, completely freaked out. Had this whack job been secretly visiting my babies?
“Ask Marge,” Sassy said, pointing to the door.
Whipping my head around to the entrance, I spotted Marge coming through the door carrying an enormous basket of cookies. She always baked when she was stressed out. From the size of her basket of goodies, she was very stressed out.
The Shifters were on their feet immediately and swarmed Marge like she was a rock star. While Wanda was the best baker I’d ever had the honor of knowing—her cheesecakes brought tears to my eyes—Marge’s cookies were the best in the farking Universe.
“I’ll get her,” Sassy announced as she got up from the table and powered through the crowd of cookie lovers.
“Will she know if her mother has been here?” I asked.
“No clue,” Fabio
said. “But I certainly hope there are a few cookies left when she gets to the table.”
“Endora was here? In Assjacket?” Marge choked out, scanning the diner in horror. “Are you certain?”
I was concerned before. Now I was headed toward basket case.
“I don’t see how she could have come here undetected,” I said, confused. “The town is warded and Mac can sense outside magic.”
“Wrinkles,” Marge whispered. “She’s the one who taught me to make a wrinkle. They’re virtually undetectable.”
“Do you think Elhora is making the wrinkles that Baba Yaga is worried about?” Sassy asked, shoving cookies in her mouth.
My BFF was a stress eater. So was I. It was a damned good thing that witches had ridiculously fast metabolism. Knocking Sassy’s hand out of the basket, I took my own pile of sugar to consume.
“What did you just call her?” Roy asked with a pained wince and another quick glance around the diner while trying not to laugh.
Clearly Endora wasn’t a laughing matter.
“Oh, sorry,” Sassy said with her mouth full. “I meant Fedora… I think. Or was it Oxymora? Angora? No wait. I’ve got it. Menorah.”
“Try pain in the aura,” Marge muttered, so disturbed by the thought of her mother being in the vicinity she was leaning on Bermangoggleshitz for comfort and support.
Covertly, I cocked my head to the side to get his attention. Lifting my arm, I put it around Mac so Roy would get the hint. I knew there was a chance he would lose his arm if he put it around Marge, but he had to start somewhere.
Looking scared shitless, Bermangoggleshitz awkwardly moved his arm to the back of the chair she was sitting on. I was pretty sure he wasn’t touching her. Good enough for now. His arm was still attached to his body and Marge was too scattered to even realize what he’d done.
“She messes with auras?” Fabio asked, disturbed by the news. “That’s forbidden.”
Nodding, Marge grabbed a cookie for herself and then passed the basket around. “There’s a reason Carol and I are like we are. She wasn’t exactly warm and motherly.”
“Understatement,” Bermangoggleshitz muttered under his breath.
“Well, Goddess in a naked clogging contest,” Sassy yelled. “You and Baba Yofreaky have more in common with Zelda and me than I’d thought.”
Sassy’s statement was actually kind of profound and I realized she was correct. My mother, for lack of a better word, wasn’t real good at her job and Sassy’s had gotten rid of her when she was a little girl. Clearly Baba Yaga and Marge had similar experiences to what we’d had. Holy Hell… was that part of the requirement of being in charge having crappy mothers?
“Yes,” Marge said absently, taking the basket and putting it on her lap so she could eat her way back to rational thought. “Suffice it to say it was… bad.”
“She played with your auras?” Mac asked, appalled.
Playing with auras was against every magical rule in existence. It was punishable by death. How could Endora have gotten away with something so heinous? Why hadn’t the Goddess intervened?
Marge’s eyes were on me and I could swear she was reading my thoughts.
“The Goddess didn’t know,” Marge said, still looking directly at me. “And even if she had, some things have to play out so we can become who we’re supposed to be.”
Shit, she could read my mind. That was tremendously sucky. I’d always had a feeling Baba Yaga could do the same thing.
“That’s rude,” I told Marge.
She shrugged and pursed her lips. “I don’t do it often, but you think loud.”
“Umm… I’m lost,” Sassy said narrowing her eyes at Marge and me. “While I understand that’s not a surprise to anyone including me, I feel like I’m being left out here.”
“Marge read my mind.”
“Oh shit,” Sassy choked out, putting her hands on her head to trap her thoughts inside. “That’s not good.”
Marge sighed and let her head fall to her hands. “I hardly ever do it. It is rude, and quite honestly, it’s alarming to know what others are thinking.”
As everyone at the table digested this new icky development, Roy leaned forward and got right to the point.
“How much damage did she do to you and Carol?” he asked. “And could you feel her if she was here?”
“Define damage,” Marge said quietly. “And as to whether I’d know if she was here, no. If she wanted me to know, then yes. Otherwise… no.”
“Zelda,” Wanda said, approaching our table with a funny look on her lovely face. “Sweetie, your cats are causing the customers to leave. I hate to interrupt, but could you do something about that?”
It was almost a relief to go back to my normal where my familiars were having at their balls and making people ill. The habit was disgusting, but right now it made me grin.
“Yep. I’m sorry Wanda. They have no manners,” I said, getting up and striding over to where Fat Bastard, Boba Fett and Jango Fett were participating in their after dinner ball sack cleanse.
“Doll face,” Fat Bastard said with a wide kitty grin. “Wazz goin’ down?”
“Apparently you are. Get your heads out of your crotches. The customers are puking,” I snapped.
“Don’t see no customers,” Jango said, taking a quick lick break.
He was correct. They had successfully cleared out the diner. Even Wanda and DeeDee had high tailed it out. It was just my little dinner posse, Jeeves, and my rotund ball lickers.
“Youse furry shits did good work,” Fat Bastard told his comrades as he gave his testes one last swipe and then waddled his bulbous behind over to the table.
“That was on purpose?” I demanded. What the hell was wrong with them?
“Sure was, Sugar Socks,” Boba Fett grunted as he heaved his fat carcass over to the table as well. “Youse nimrods is talkin’ classified shit in public. Wezze was just doin’ our duty keeping your crazy ass safe.”
“And you decided slurping on your privates was the logical way to go?” I asked, shaking my head and biting back my grin.
“Worked, didn’t it?” Fat Bastard shot back, settling his big butt next to the basket of cookies and going to work on depleting the supply.
He was correct. My familiars were every kind of gross, but they were mine and I was keeping them. Actually, I was stuck with them. The numerous times I’d tried to scare them off or lose them in some random remote area, they always found their way back to me. Secretly, I loved them—not their foul and unappetizing habits—but them.
“You know Endora?” Bermangoggleshitz asked.
Fat Bastard eyed the warlock for a long moment and then smiled. “Youse is getting better lookin’, dude. Youse better watch out. Soon youse gonna have de ladies wantin’ a piece of dat.”
Marge stiffened in outrage but tamped it back immediately. I noticed. Roy noticed and Fat Bastard definitely noticed. However, I would hazard a guess that’s what my idiot cat was aiming for. The feline worked in obnoxious, gross and slightly mysterious ways…
“And yep. I knows dat batshit crazy wench,” Fat Bastard went on as he began to lick the crumbs from the bottom of the now empty basket.
“Has she been here?” Mac asked, handing my cat a partially eaten cookie so he would stop licking the wicker. The sound was awful.
“Now dat I can’t tell ya. Dat atomic turd raidin’ hooker is a slippery one. Youse is gonna need Baba Yofineass to figure dat one out.”
“Where is Carol?” I asked my dad. I assumed he would know since she was his gal pal.
“Not sure,” he admitted. He ran his hands through his red hair that matched mine in distress. His expression was so serious I felt my stomach clench. “She normally checks in, but I haven’t heard from her in a few days. She thought she was getting close to finding what she was after.”
“Did she know what she was after?” Sassy took the question out of my mouth.
“Youse mean does Baba Yosexy know Endora is connected to d
em wrinkles?”
Sassy looked confused. “Zelda, is that what I meant?” she questioned me.
“Yep. It’s exactly what you meant and it was an excellent question,” I replied to her delight.
“I don’t know if she’s aware that Endora is possibly connected,” Fabio said. “I would think she would have told me.”
“Unless she’s protecting you,” Marge said quietly. “Endora would hate for Carol to be happy. She’d destroy anything that made her smile.”
“Is Baba Yaga working alone?” Jeeves asked, coming out of the kitchen and joining the conversation.
Jeeves had supersonic hearing like the rest of the Shifters. They could hear pin drop in the next town over. It was actually a good thing my cats had cleared the diner. Their style left a lot to be desired, but their instincts were impeccable.
Fabio nodded and then stood so fast, he knocked his chair to the ground. “I have to find her. Now.”
“Hang on dere, Crapass,” Boba Fett said with a chuckle. “Not so fast.”
“How did you know his new name is Crapass?” I asked my smirking cat.
“De cats know all, Sugar Boobs,” he said cryptically.
Of course now I wondered if they’d suggested to Henry and Audrey that my dad’s name should be Crapass, but decided to let it go. If that turned out to be the case, turnabout was fair play. I was quite certain Fabio could come up with some lovely distasteful names for my kids to call the cats.
“Whatever,” I said, trying not to laugh. “You will not refer to my boobs ever again if you want to keep your balls. Am I clear?”
“Youse is no fun,” Fat Bastard said, making his rounds on the table looking for crumbs now that he’d pilfered everyone’s cookie pile. “Weeze will go with Crapass to find Baba Yohotpants.”
“Bad idea,” Fabio said, moving to leave. “You’ll slow me down.”
In a blink of an eye, my obese furry nightmares were by the front door waiting for Fabio. For big fat felines, they could move fast when they wanted to. Usually food was involved, but a crisis merited speed as well.
“Fine,” Fabio said, giving in. “Do you have any leads?”
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