Witches Get Stitches

by Dakota Cassidy

  Actually, it was a disaster. Everything was crumbling. From the bathroom that looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned since the last century, to the peeling walls and yellowed linoleum with holes all throughout the store.

  Her expression went thoughtful as she cracked her knuckles. “That means painting and using a hammer, right?”

  I brushed my hands together and adjusted my scarf. “Yep. That’s what that means, Coop.”

  “Then no. I don’t want to do that.”

  I barked a laugh, scaring Fergus, who was busily rifling through his briefcase, looking for the contract I’m now positive changes with the applicant’s gender.

  “Tough petunias. We’re in this together, Demon-San. That means the good, the bad, and the renovation of this place. If you want to start tattooing again, we can’t have customers subjected to this chaos, can we? Who’d feel comfortable getting a tattoo in a mess like this?”

  I pointed to the pile of old pizza boxes and crushed beer cans in the corner where I hoped we’d be able to build a cashier’s counter.

  Coop’s sigh was loud enough to ensure I’d hear it as she let her shoulders slump. “You’re right, Sis…um, Trixie. We have to have a sterile environment to make tattoos. The Oregon laws say so. I read them, you know. On the laptop. I read them all.”

  As I said, Coop’s a veritable sponge, which almost makes up for her lack of emotional control.

  Almost.

  I patted her shoulder as it poked out of her off-the-shoulder T-shirt, the shoulder with a tattoo of an angel in all its magnificently winged glory. A tattoo she’d drawn and inked herself while deep in the bowels of Hell.

  “I’m proud of you. I’m going to need all the help I can get so we can get our license to open ASAP. We need to start making some money, Coop. We don’t have much left of the money Sister Mary Ignatius gave us, and we definitely can’t live on our charm alone.”

  “So I’ve been useful?”

  “You’re more than useful, Coop. You’re my right-hand man. Er, woman.”

  She grinned, and it was when she grinned like this, when her gorgeously crafted face lit up, I grew more certain she understood how dear a friend she was to me. “Good.”

  “Okay, so let’s go sign our lives away—”

  “No!” she whisper-yelled, gripping my wrist with the strength of ten men, her face twisted in fear. “Don’t do that, Trixie Lavender! You know what happens when you do that. Nothing is as it seems when you do that!”

  I forced myself not to wince when I pried her fingers from my wrist. Sometimes, Coop didn’t know her own demonic strength. “Easy, Coop. I need my skin,” I teased.

  In an instant, she dropped her hands to her sides and shoved them into the pockets of her pants, her expression contrite. “My apologies. But you know I have triggers. That’s what you called them, right? When I get upset and anxious, that’s a trigger. Signing your life away is one of them. We have to be careful with our words. You said so yourself.”

  She was right. I’d poorly worded my intent, forgetting her fears about the devil and Hell’s shoddy bargains for your soul.

  As the rain pounded the roof, I measured my words and tried to make light of the situation. “It’s just a saying we use here, Coop. It means we’re giving everything we have to Fergus McDuff on a wing and a prayer at this point. But it doesn’t mean I’m giving up my soul to the devil. I promise. My soul’s staying put.”

  At least I thought it was. I could be wrong after my showdown with an evil spirit, but it felt like it was still there. I still had empathy for others. I still knew right from wrong—even if all those morals went directly out the window when the evil spirit took over.

  Coop inhaled and exhaled before she squared her perfectly proportioned shoulders. “Okay. Then let’s go,” she paused, frowning, “sign our lives away to Fergus McDuff.” Then she smirked, clearly meaning she understood what I’d said.

  Our path to Fergus slowed when Coop paused and put a hand on my arm, setting me behind her. There was a commotion of some kind occurring just outside our door on the sidewalk, between Fergus and another man.

  A dark-haired man with olive skin stretched tightly over his jaw and sleeve tattoos on both arms yelled down at Fergus, who, after Coop, had probably had enough of being under fire for today. But holy crow, this guy was angry.

  He waved those muscular arms—attached to lean hands with long fingers—around in the air as the rain pelted his sleek head. His T-shirt stretched over his muscles as he gestured over his shoulder, and his voice, even muffled, boomed along our tiny street.

  I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t look like a very friendly exchange—not judging by the man’s face, which, when it wasn’t screwed up in anger, was quite handsome.

  Yet, Fergus, clearly at his breaking point after his encounter with Coop, reared up in the gentleman’s face and yelled right back. But then a taller, leaner, sandy-haired man approached and put a hand on the handsome man’s shoulder, encouraging him to turn around.

  That gave Fergus the opportunity to push his way past the big man and grab the handle of our door, stepping back inside the store with a bluster of huffs and grunts.

  Coop sniffed the air. She can sometimes smell things the rest of us can’t. It’s hard to explain, but as an example, she smelled that our friend Stevie isn’t entirely human. She’s a witch. Or she was. Now, since her accident, she only has some residual powers left.

  But Coop had smelled her paranormal nature somehow—which, by definition, is crazy incredible and something I can’t dwell on for long, for fear I’ll get lost in the madness that demons and Hell and witches and other assorted ghouls are quite real.

  “The man outside is not paranormal. He’s just normal, as is the other man, and Fergus, too. If you were wondering.”

  I popped my lips in Coop’s direction. “Good to know. I mean, what if he was some crazy hybrid of a vampire who can run around in daylight? Then what? We’d have to keep our veins covered or he might suck us dry.”

  Coop gave me her most serious expression and sucked in her cheeks. “I already told you, you don’t ever have to worry anyone will hurt you. I’ll kill them and then they’ll be dead.”

  Ba-dump-bump.

  “And I told you, no killing.” Then I giggled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, steering her past the debris on the floor and toward a grumpy Fergus, feeling better than I had in weeks. We had a purpose. We had a mission. Above all, we had hope.

  We were going to open Inkerbelle’s Tattoos and Piercings. I’d pierce and design tattoos, and Coop would handle the rest. We’d hopefully hire a staff of more artists as gifted as Coop. If the universe saw fit, that is.

  And then maybe we’d finally have a place to call home. Where I could nest, and Coop could ink to her heart’s desire in her tireless effort to protect every single future client from demonic harm with her special brand of magic ink.

  During her life under Satan’s rule, Coop had tattooed all new entries into Hell. She’d been so good at it, the devil left her in charge of every incoming sinner. But it was a job she’d despised, and she eventually escaped the night she’d saved me.

  Lastly, I’d also try to come to terms with my new status in this world—my new freedom to openly share my views on how to get through this life with a solid code of ethics. Oh, and by the way, it has more to do with being the best person you can, rather than putting the fear of scripture quotes and fire and brimstone into non-believers.

  I don’t care if you believe. I know that sounds crazy coming from an ex-nun once deeply immersed in a convent and yards and yards of scripture. But I don’t. You don’t have to believe in an unseen entity if you so choose.

  But I do care deeply about the world as a whole, and showing, not telling people you can live your life richly, fully, without ever stepping inside the hallowed halls of a church if you decide that’s what works for you.

  I want anyone who’ll listen to know you can indee
d have a life worth living—even as a low-level demon escaped from Hell and an ex-communicated nun who suffers from what Coop and I jokingly call demoni-phrenia.

  Also known as, the occasional possession of an ex-nun cursed by a random evil spirit.

  And I was determined to prove that—not only to myself, but to this spirit who had me in its greasy black clutches.

  Note From Dakota

  I do hope you enjoyed this book, I’d so appreciate it if you’d help others enjoy it too.

  Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it.

  Review it. Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it at online retailers or your blog. Reader reviews help my books continue to be valued by distributors/resellers. I adore each and every reader who takes the time to write one!

  If you love the book or leave a review, please email dakota@dakotacassidy.com so I can thank you with a personal email. Your support means more than you’ll ever know! Thank you!

  About the Author

  Dakota Cassidy is a USA Today bestselling author with over fifty books. She writes laugh-out-loud cozy mysteries, romantic comedy, grab-some-ice erotic romance, hot and sexy alpha males, paranormal shifters, contemporary kick-ass women, and more.

  Dakota was invited by Bravo TV to be the Bravoholic for a week, wherein she snarked the hell out of all the Bravo shows. She received a starred review from Publishers Weekly for Talk Dirty to Me, won a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Kiss and Hell, along with many review site recommended reads and reviewer top pick awards.

  Dakota lives in the gorgeous state of Oregon with her real-life hero and her dogs, and she loves hearing from readers!

  Other Books By Dakota Cassidy

  Visit Dakota’s website at http://www.dakotacassidy.com for more information.

  A Lemon Layne Mystery, a Contemporary Cozy Mystery Series

  1. Prawn of the Dead

  2. Play That Funky Music White Koi

  Witchless In Seattle Mysteries, a Paranormal Cozy Mystery series

  1. Witch Slapped

  2. Quit Your Witchin'

  3. Dewitched

  4. The Old Witcheroo

  5. How the Witch Stole Christmas

  6. Ain’t Love a Witch

  7. Good Witch Hunting

  8. Witch Way Did He Go?

  9. Witches Get Stitches

  Nun of Your Business Mysteries, a Paranormal Cozy Mystery series

  1. Then There Were Nun

  2. Hit and Nun

  3. House of the Rising Nun

  4. The Smoking Nun

  Wolf Mates, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series

  1. An American Werewolf In Hoboken

  2. What’s New, Pussycat?

  3. Gotta Have Faith

  4. Moves Like Jagger

  5. Bad Case of Loving You

  A Paris, Texas Romance, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series

  1. Witched At Birth

  2. What Not to Were

  3. Witch Is the New Black

  4. White Witchmas

  Non-Series

  Whose Bride Is She Anyway?

  Polanski Brothers: Home of Eternal Rest

  Sexy Lips 66

  Accidentally Paranormal, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series

  Interview With an Accidental—a free introductory guide to the girls of the Accidentals!

  1. The Accidental Werewolf

  2. Accidentally Dead

  3. The Accidental Human

  4. Accidentally Demonic

  5. Accidentally Catty

  6. Accidentally Dead, Again

  7. The Accidental Genie

  8. The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry

  9. The Accidental Dragon

  10. Accidentally Aphrodite

  11. Accidentally Ever After

  12. Bearly Accidental

  13. How Nina Got Her Fang Back

  14. The Accidental Familiar

  15. Then Came Wanda

  16. The Accidental Mermaid

  17. Marty’s Horrible, Terrible Very Bad Day

  The Hell, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series

  1. Kiss and Hell

  2. My Way to Hell

  The Plum Orchard, a Contemporary Romantic Comedy series

  1. Talk This Way

  2. Talk Dirty to Me

  3. Something to Talk About

  4. Talking After Midnight

  The Ex-Trophy Wives, a Contemporary Romantic Comedy series

  1. You Dropped a Blonde On Me

  2. Burning Down the Spouse

  3. Waltz This Way

  Fangs of Anarchy, a Paranormal Urban Fantasy series

  1. Forbidden Alpha

  2. Outlaw Alpha