Paranormally Yours: A Boxed Set

by Alisha Basso

  No one had to tell me twice to get the hell out. I said, “Thank you, Chris. You could have made this a lot more difficult.”

  “Don’t thank me. I don’t make this concession lightly, Lily, but if you have need of me ask. For Olivia’s sake. I will heed the call.” He held my eyes for a moment and I saw the respect there. He turned his attention back to his mate. I walked through the ruined door and slid into my sporty T-bird.

  It hadn’t been easy to ditch my dust hounds, and it had taken me days to prepare a spell to disguise myself and my car. I was sure Agent Sunstrike was cursing even now.

  I laughed softly and started the car. It was late afternoon, and I had a batch of cream puffs to make for Aunt Tilly’s Sunday dinner and a vampire dirtbag to squeeze for information.

  “Nock,” I said hours later, after the last cream puff was filled, “I’m going to need your help.”

  “With what?” he asked as he carefully wrapped the cream puffs and set them on the counter. “My aunt is expecting me in, like, fifteen minutes.”

  “I need you to dirt elevator me a short distance from here so I can avoid the dust hounds.”

  Nock’s face crinkled up and he looked out the window. “I can’t do it.”

  “What? Why not?”

  He puffed the bangs from his forehead, looking contrite. “It’s deception. It’s against gnomish law.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  This time he ran his hand through his hair, the black silk fell back into place and I was struck for a moment how damned cute he was. His mischievous little boy features were twisted up as he closed his eyes in annoyance. For a minute I got scared. He was so resourceful, too clever for his own good. It wasn’t enough for me to admit to myself I had affection for him. But I wouldn’t say what was in my heart. I was too terrified that something would happen to him like it had happened to Olivia. Besides, he’d scoff at me anyway.

  He jumped onto the counter and settled there in cross-legged relaxation, as if he was sitting on a toadstool. Grabbing my ears, he pulled me close. His tone was deliberate, as though he was talking to the village idiot. “If you wanted to go to the mall to buy a new shirt, I could do that. Or take you to the store to get milk. But I can’t use Earth magic to help deceive the fae.”

  I rolled my eyes, not sure why this was even an issue. “I’m just asking you to take me a short way.”

  He twisted my ears and dodged away as I cried “Ouch,”

  He landed nimbly on the table and did a little jig. Then flipped off it and leaned nonchalantly against a table leg. “I know. But it’s your reason for going that short distance which is the problem.”

  Rubbing at my tweaked ears, I couldn’t understand the problem. We were friends. I wouldn’t tell anyone, so why wouldn’t he take me? “You’re not going to help me elude my shadows?”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “I didn’t say that, but I can’t use the dirt elevator to do it. Its. Against. The. Law. The Grand Toadstool himself would revoke my ‘dirt elevator’ privileges.” He used air quotes. “We cannot deceive with it. Especially the fae. It’s the law.”

  I slumped against the counter. “Oh, crap.” The thought of him not being able to move freely through the earth hurt my heart.

  He peered at me. “Can’t you translocate?”

  It was my turn to grab his ears. “I could, but I’d have to lay the spell parameters, and Sunstrike would know exactly what I’m doing.”

  He twisted against my fingers and I let him go. He gave me a disgruntled look and jumped up on the table to look out the window, scowling at Talon in the street below. “That seems like a useless spell.”

  I looked over his shoulder at the three fae, easily identifying Talon with his red hair talking to his fellow agents. I shivered remembering how it was to kiss him, my eyes going over his leather-clad body. “Translocation is a fine spell, it just has its limitations.”

  At the sound of my distracted voice, he elbowed me, giving me a sly look, like he was reading my dirty thoughts. I pulled back from the window. “Sometimes witchcraft can be very unaccommodating.”

  “Like a gnome and his deception rules?” I snarked back.

  Nock snorted.

  “Could you take me to the translocation spell area so I could set it?”

  He smacked his hand against his forehead and sighed dramatically as only he could do. “No, it is still part of the same whole, and I can’t.”

  “I might be able to modify my mirror spell to...”

  “No! No mirror spell.” He jumped up and down. “It’s too dangerous. You could get lost in the backwards world and never find your way out.”

  I gave him a skeptical look. “Backwards world?”

  “Sure, that is where a mirror will lead you, and I don’t think you want to end up like Alice in Wonderland.”

  “Will I see little white rabbits with pocket watches?”

  “Sure, Lily,” Nock’s voice dripped sarcasm, his eyes dancing with mocking lights. “Little fluffy white bunnies will lead you where you need to go. You might want to pack a few carrots.”

  I giggled and he gave me a stern look.

  He looked out the window again, then at me, then out the window. “Can’t you shapeshift?”

  I shrugged and allowed myself another peek. Yup, still giving me the tingles. Nock gave me a look over his shoulder as if to say, you are so stupid. The problem was, he was right. When it came to Talon, I was so stupid. “Sure, but it is a bit more involved. And what should I shapeshift into? I’ll also need to stash my clothes somewhere.”

  His eyes went clever. “How about Fifi?”

  “Mrs. Layton’s poodle?”

  “Sure. The dust boys wouldn’t notice a fluffy little white poodle slip out of the building and trot off down the street. You could pee on the bastard’s boot.”

  “Fifi, Nock…”

  “Oh, right. Toadstools.”

  “Are you sure fae can’t see through spells?”

  “Simple ones like makeup and wigs and things like that, but a shapeshift? I don’t think so.”

  “You’d better be right.” I ran to my room and got out the spider silk-wrapped armor. Something told me I was going to need it. I especially liked the way the neckpiece protected my neck. A vamp, I whined to myself. Why did it have to be a vamp, and an undead one at that? They were so much more powerful than live ones. I went to my closet and pulled out my long red leather coat and stuffed it and my armor into a small black bag. Back in the kitchen, I handed the bag to Nock. “Can you put this near the bagel café, just behind their dumpster and pick it up on your way back from your aunt’s?”

  “Technically, it’s part of the deception, but it’s not as bad as actively helping you. I’ll do it.”

  “Now you’d better get going, or your aunt will have your hide.”

  “Oh, Tweek, I’d better not be late.”

  “Say hi, to Rena for me,” I said. He snatched up the cream puffs, my bag and before he disappeared, he gave me the finger.

  I laughed as I went to my kitchen, got out a measuring cup, tucked a pair of small scissors in my pocket, and slipped out of my apartment. I knocked on Mrs. Layton’s door. When she opened it and saw me, she stiffened. She was the kind of human who was scared of anything different, and a witch in the building didn’t make her feel safe.

  “What do you want?” she snapped, taking a small step back like I was getting ready to zap her or something.

  Not making any threatening moves or even breathing wrong, I said, “I was hoping to borrow a cup of sugar.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she peered at me. “Sugar? Aren’t you a caterer by trade?”

  I put a bright, open smile on my face and giggled like a school girl who had forgotten her homework. “Ah, yes, I am, but I ran out and just need a cup to finish.” Fifi was sleeping on a doggie bed near the couch.

  Still looking at me like I was a serial killer with a knife behind my back, she said, “Stay here and I’ll get it
for you.

  As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, I dashed into the apartment. Fifi raised her head and started to wag her tail. I reached down and petted her head while I snipped a lock of her fur and ran back to the door.

  When Mrs. Layton came back, she shoved the sugar in my hands and, without a word, slammed the door in my face.

  I shook my head. Living in fear was no way to live at all. Really, if she would just take the time to get to know me, I’m sure she would love me.

  Back in my apartment, I pulled out my spell grimoire and a spell book I often used for reference.

  I thumbed to the shapeshift section and looked for a spell to change myself into a small dog. While I was searching, I vowed that no way would I lick myself. That was a given.

  Shifting wasn’t what I would have chosen to do here. Turning into a dog was iffy. I didn’t have control, I couldn’t talk, and the whole no-opposable-thumbs deal made opening doors and manipulating things much more difficult.

  It was quite an art, and shifters were adept at it by nature. In the world before the Break, where reality ruled, shapeshifting was hard to do. It was mostly a shamanic ability, steeped in the lore of Native Americans and others who practiced the shamanic arts. The Earth plane had no werewolves or shapeshifters when reality was intact. They only existed in the imagination and books. But it didn’t mean magic wasn’t possible. That turning into a flower or a tree was beyond our capabilities back then.

  It wasn’t.

  Now reality had broken, and the laws dissolved, magic was more powerful, accessible and flexible. Many people believed science and magic were opposed to each other—science being hard, practical, and real, and magic being soft, fanciful, and imaginary. Yet nothing could be further from the truth. To the wise, to witches and other magic wielders versed and trained in the old ways, magic and the natural sciences were allies and together made up the science of the Craft.

  For those of us who practice the old ways, our understanding of the universe meshes with that of science. The universe springs from a creative force, out of which the orders of consciousness and the material world unfold.

  The heart of this movement or hierarchy of levels is meaning or knowledge. Consciousness in all its forms—human, animal, plant, spirit—lies at the heart of the universe. Consciousness lies at the heart of magic and is the reason the power of magic works. In other words, a magic wielder’s consciousness can effect changes in the physical world or mental and emotional worlds. This is possible because what we know, what we see, and how we behave, depend on our participation, our effort, our involvement. The mind is truly powerful, because it is a participator, not a mere observer and recorder.

  So in order to shapeshift successfully, I needed to harness that creative force, my mind, to imagine what it was to be a dog, and in this instance, what it was like to be Fifi. To really become a dog wasn’t as easy as taking on the shape and texture of a dog. Unfortunately, the easy way wouldn’t fool anyone who had magical abilities. What I needed to do was become the essence, the spirit of the animal itself.

  As a first step I would copy the poodle that lived in my building as the physical shape into which I would then convert my own personal body. So many things could go wrong. It was a delicate and mental effort more than it was a physical effort. In fact, the actual shifting was the easy part.

  Acting and thinking and being a dog was much more difficult.

  I guess shapeshifting was more like method acting. Putting yourself into the role. Because I was a human female, I would always act like a human female unless I changed my perceptions and used my mind to create myself as something else.

  This ability was inherent in werewolves and other beings who were called shifters. There were many shifters in our world, but unlike The Pack who governed the werewolves, shifters were not a represented people, since they had no council. But they weren’t usually organized and tended to be mostly clandestine, even in our society, where everything was fully embraced. There was no need to hide what you were unless, of course, you were trying to hide for other reasons.

  I looked at the ingredients I would need.

  Being a witch, I would use a spell to help me transform. My power came from my Earth magic and my spells. Other witches might have gotten shapeshifting down to a science, but this was my first time.

  Really, I had been much too lazy about my craft. I used it mostly to enhance my cooking and make my life easier, hence the mirror spell. It would probably be smart to research and stir a few more spells now, especially since I was embroiled in a kind of trouble I didn’t understand yet.

  Getting to the bottom of Olivia’s death was going to be time-consuming and, as I had learned recently, dangerous.

  No matter what happened, though, whoever was responsible for her murder would answer to me. Nothing but death itself could stop me.

  I took a deep breath. To stir a spell required concentration and calm. It was so important to be confident. Like, yeah, I got this. Nothing can stop me. The possibilities are endless.

  And, really, they were. Literally anything was possible in the brave new world we’d inhabited since the Break.

  Finding my center, I took three deep breaths in and let them out. My fascination with Talon Sunstrike, my altercation with Chris Bailey, confronting Styx, and almost dying were all put out of my mind.

  I went into my stirring trance. Selected the ingredients as they came into my mind while I crafted my spell on the stir.

  The last thing I added was the hair of the dog.

  I took my time and let the Earth’s inherent magic flow through me while it molded and melded with my mind to create what I envisioned.

  I passed my hand over the cauldron and breathed into the pot, the breath of my will settling into the liquid bubbling below me.

  I smiled with the sheer joy of stirring. Toil and trouble, indeed.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled the brew, taking it deep inside my body. Then, at the exact moment the magic peaked in me, I breathed it back out.

  I centered myself again and came out of the trance. Looking into the pot, I saw it was empty and felt the knowledge I needed pop into my head. I was imprinted with my spell.

  I smiled.

  Mostly because I would be outsmarting Talon Sunstrike. That smug fae was going to learn Lily Starbuck was no pushover.

  Even though he was a seductive bastard.

  Chapter Ten

  I stepped out of my apartment and headed down the stairs. The others I would need to deal with Styx were already breathed and imprinted. My nerves started to jangle.

  An undead vamp.

  Was I out of my mind?

  Okay, are you really crazy if you realize you’re acting crazy?

  Hmmm, that took more brain power than I had right now.

  When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I breathed deep, accessing the spell in my head, and said, mutatio. At the same exact moment, I envisioned Fifi, her curly white coat, the way her ears were formed. The sweet, cute sparkle in her dark brown eyes and her diminutive size.

  Between one breath and the next, I felt a peculiar sensation, uncomfortable but not precisely unpleasant, heard a slight popping sound, and then I was shrinking to all fours, cushy foot pads supporting my weight. The smell of cinnamon was so strong I sneezed. My sense of smell had been heightened, and I was momentarily lost in the moment, relishing the fascinating smells everywhere. Some were pleasant, and some not so much, but all of them intriguing. I wanted to run off and explore the world, but needed to hold onto my purpose.

  That was then I noticed something about Fifi.

  She was a he. Fifi was a male dog.

  Good grief. Mrs. Layton was okay with naming a male poodle Fifi? Maybe she was one of those people who gave every pet they had the same name as the beloved first one. Poor guy.

  I had the overwhelming urge to lick myself. But I refrained. Just barely.

  I pranced over to the door because, well, I was a poodle, and I wanted
to prance. Not often you got to do that.

  I barked and surprised the hell out of myself, because I had intended to chuckle quietly, but I guess dogs couldn’t really laugh. Now I had to wonder if they barked when they thought something was funny. Interesting.

  As soon as the door opened, I got ready to shoot out into the street, but then said, oh, shit, which came out more like a growl. It was Mrs. Layton. She was fast for a little old lady. “Fifi!” she said, obviously shocked to see me. Dipping down, she snatched me up. I wiggled like crazy, but she clamped her arm around me and held me still.

  “How did you get out?”

  Oh, crap! I had to get away from her. But it was no use, she hauled me up the stairs to her apartment and unlocked the door. As soon as she closed the door and put me down, I took off. If she saw me next to the real Fifi, she was going to get a little freaked out. I didn’t just look like any old toy poodle. I was an exact replica of Fifi.

  As soon as I disappeared into Mrs. Layton’s bedroom, I saw Fifi lying on Mrs. Layton’s bed. The dog looked at me, and I got this weird chill that he was trying to communicate with me. But I couldn’t waste a moment. I slipped under the bed just as Mrs. Layton came into the room.

  “What is wrong with you today, precious? You’re acting very strangely.”

  Then Fifi barked.

  And I almost swallowed my doggie tongue.

  The bark came to me, floated through my doggie ears and translated itself into actual speech.

  What the fuck? You look just like me!

  Okay, this was new. Dogs knew how to swear and this little poodle had a potty mouth.

  Of course I couldn’t bark in reply because Mrs. Layton was still in the room.

  As I lay in Mrs. Layton’s dust bunnies, all I could think about was how much this plan was biting right now. Awww, no pun intended.

  #

  Two days had passed and I’d had to eat…I wasn’t going to think about what I’d had to eat. It wasn’t satisfying. Fifi actually was pretty nice once I had the opportunity to explain my predicament to him. He’d even promised to help me escape, and today was the day. I couldn’t imagine what Nock was thinking. He must be worried sick.