Hotter Than Spell

by Annabel Chase

  “Hey!” Agatha objected. “That’s assault.”

  “Fruit?” the alpha monkey snorted. “Hardly. We like meat.”

  “There’s a wonderful deli downtown,” I said. “They carry the best cured meats on the island.”

  The monkey’s thick brow wrinkled. “We don’t buy over the counter. We hunt.”

  I swallowed hard. “Hunt? I suppose there are plenty of worms and small woodland creatures… .”

  “Puppies,” the hovering monkey said. “We have a taste for puppies.”

  “Or small dogs,” the third monkey said. “The age is unimportant. It’s the size that matters.”

  “You don’t hear that sentiment every day,” Earl said. “Good on you for keeping an open mind like that.”

  I groaned.

  “Shut up, Earl,” Agatha said. “These flying monkeys are telling us they eat puppies. Eat them. Not play fetch.”

  Earl hesitated. “I see. That does present an issue, doesn’t it? Puppies are cute.”

  “What’s your position on kittens?” Tut asked.

  The monkeys began spitting and making faces.

  “Kittens are disgusting,” the alpha monkey said. “We’d never touch them.”

  Tut appeared satisfied. “Carry on, then.” He began to walk away.

  “Are you kidding me?” I yelled. “You’ve been the one complaining about their poop all over the forest, but you’re willing to walk away because they don’t eat your babies?”

  Tut shrugged his naked shoulders. “I have to choose my battles, Kenna, as do you.” He padded into the forest and disappeared.

  “What a nerve!” I couldn’t believe it. I turned and faced the monkeys. “You need to go back to where you came from.”

  The monkeys chortled.

  “There aren’t any puppies there,” the third monkey said. “Here is much better.”

  “No one’s entitled to puppies,” I said. “It’s time to go home, fellas.”

  “And who’s going to make us?” the alpha asked.

  I gave them my most menacing stare. “I am.”

  My statement instigated more mocking laughter, followed by the worst attack I’d ever endured.

  Splat!

  Slowly, my gaze shifted to my crisp, white shirt. A brown stain stared back at me, from the left side of my chest. It was worse than any prank Skye had ever pulled. My temper flared.

  “Do you know how expensive dry cleaning is on an island?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “Send me the bill,” the hovering monkey said, “so I can use it as toilet paper.”

  The monkeys roared with laughter again.

  “We’re more fun than a barrel of us,” the third monkey chortled.

  I rolled up my sleeves. Enough was enough. I couldn’t risk starting a forest fire, so I had to think of something else. I thought back to the basic spells we learned in school, before the coven’s unfortunate evacuation. Under pressure, the only one coming to mind was one we used for pranks on each other.

  I waved my hand in the air and chanted, “I pity you for engaging a witch, best of luck trying to scratch this itch.” I felt the energy rise within me and shoot from my fingertips.

  The flying monkeys immediately began clawing at their bodies, too uncomfortable to remain still. It wasn’t enough to send them back to the other dimension, but it would have to do for now.

  “Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours,” the alpha commanded. The other two were too busy dealing with their own itching bodies. All three were too preoccupied to take to the skies.

  “Everywhere itches,” the third monkey complained. “I can’t reach the tips of my wings.”

  As satisfying as it was to watch them squirm, I needed to get out of there. Now that I knew puppies were at risk, I had to take more drastic action. And soon.

  “’Til we meet again,” I called over my shoulder. I hopped on my scooter and sped away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tonight was the night to pay the piper or, in this case, Skye. I sat at a table at Coconuts on Friday night for the dreaded karaoke. To my dismay, it seemed that every band in town for the competition had heard about karaoke night and decided it was a good opportunity to show off. I had no doubt that Skye had spread the word in order to get as many people here as possible to witness my humiliation.

  Thankfully, Bonnie Fisher was behind the bar tonight, which would go a long way toward a smooth evening. I watched her prepare a couple of pitchers of rum runners and quickly realized they were headed for our table. My gaze darted to Skye, who sat across from Zola and Evian. I had no doubt this was her doing. She probably wanted me to get good and drunk before she made me sing my song. That witch would do anything to torture me.

  I bit the bullet and strode to the table.

  “You haven't held up your end of the bargain,” Skye accused, when she noticed me. “Showing up doesn’t count.”

  “It's not my fault if the rockstars are hogging the microphone,” I said.

  “You don't have to worry,” she replied. “I added your name to the list half an hour ago. You'll get your turn.”

  I stuck out my tongue. Skye knew how to get under my skin better than anyone else. She was like the annoying sister I never wanted.

  “Then what are you worried about?” I asked. “I'll keep my end of the deal.”

  “Not completely,” Skye said. She made a big show of scanning the bar area. “I don't see Skywalker here, do you?”

  My stomach sank. On the one hand, I was relieved not to sing in front of him. On the other hand, I worried that Skye would make good on her threat to publish the story before I was ready. I couldn't decide which was worse.

  “Hold onto your lightsabers, ladies,” Zola said. “Here comes Skywalker now.”

  My pulse quickened at the sight of him. He loped across the bar. He had such a confident, casual air about him that you couldn't help but be drawn to him.

  “Someone's gone dreamy eyed,” Evian announced.

  Skye immediately began to fill our glasses with rum runners from a pitcher, starting with mine.

  “Drink up, Obi-Tense Kenobi,” Skye snickered.

  “Please don't make a big deal about him,” I pleaded quietly. That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Immediately, my witchy sisters began calling his name and motioning for him to join us. I slumped in my seat, bracing for the fallout.

  “I haven't missed you, have I?” Lucas asked. He looked even better up close. He wore a hot pink polo shirt and jeans. Any guy who could pull off a shirt like that was a guy worth ogling. He sat down in the empty chair beside me.

  “You haven't missed much,” I said. “All the bands on the island seem to have come out to get their cover song on tonight,” I said. “If I hear Dream On one more time, I'll drown myself in rum runners.”

  Lucas nodded toward the pitchers. “It looks like you're about to do that anyway.”

  “Liquid courage,” I said. “I'm not exactly excited by the prospect of getting up there.”

  Lucas squinted. “Really? You always seem to have so much confidence. I guess I'm surprised to hear that you’re nervous about something.”

  “That's not the only thing she's nervous about tonight,” Skye muttered under her breath. I kicked her under the table and felt satisfied to see her wince.

  “Lucas, I don’t know if you remember them from high school, but this is Skye, and that’s Zola and Evian.”

  Zola raised her drink and Evian waved.

  “I think it's nice that the four of you are still friends after all these years,” he said. “I don't really keep in touch with many people from high school.”

  The four of us exchanged glances. Our entangled relationships weren't necessarily by choice. Then again, we always seemed to end up spending time with each other, so maybe our distaste for one another was more bluster than anything else.

  “You'd better drink up, Kenna,” Evian said. “Your number has to be soon.”

  I downed my
drink and poured another one. I wanted to do whatever was necessary to block this night from my memory. One look at Lucas however, made me question my plan. I didn't want to forget how good he looked tonight. Maybe it would be worth staying sober just for that. My gaze traveled over his shoulder to the table behind us. Keith Simonson sat with his bandmates and his wife, Rachel. They looked like they’d sailed past Tipsy Town and were headed straight for Obliterationville. Keith's eyes were bloodshot and Rachel swayed gently from side to side, as though a strong gust of wind might blow her over. I realized this might be a good chance to speak to her about Pete because her defenses were clearly down. When Keith was called up to the stage for his cover song, I seized the chance.

  “I'll be right back,” I said, and took my drink with me. I didn't trust Skye alone with my drink. Knowing her, she'd either lick the ice cubes and put them back in or cast a spell on the rum runner. I was already going to make a fool of myself tonight. I didn't need her magical assistance.

  Then I recognized the opening cords of Dream On.

  “Sweet Goddess above,” I muttered. “I'm not listening to that one again.”

  Keith swaggered across the stage as though he were Mick Jagger incarnate. I remembered his attitude at the spa and felt my blood pressure rise. Now was the perfect opportunity for revenge on behalf of all women. I wouldn't be able to cast a complicated spell quickly, but I could certainly make things interesting.

  As discreetly as I could, I wiggled my fingers and chanted, “When the working day is done, girls like Keith just want to have fun.”

  I sank into the chair beside Rachel and smiled as the Cyndi Lauper song began.

  “What's he singing?” Rachel asked. I noticed her slurred speech.

  “Sounds like he's a fan of ’80s music,” I said, “which is completely understandable, because it’s awesome.” My spirits rose as he danced around the stage, belting out Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. He looked and sounded ridiculous, and the crowd ate it up.

  “Leave it to my husband to turn an emasculating moment into a chance for more adoration,” Rachel said bitterly. She barely seemed to register my presence next to her.

  I sipped my rum runner. “How are you holding up, Rachel? I imagine you’re all processing Pete’s death.”

  Rachel's expression hardened. Hmm. Maybe drunkenness wouldn't be enough to break through her defenses. Good thing I had the cackleberry truth serum on hand, thanks to Gerald and my emergency rations.

  “What are you drinking, Rachel?” I asked. “It looks delicious.”

  “’S called a filthy witch,” she said, nodding to the table top. Well, that seemed appropriate.

  “I think I'll try one,” I said. “I'll get you one, as well.”

  Rachel nodded, her attention fixed on her husband. Keith was still hopping around the stage like an adolescent girl. I hurried to Bonnie. There was no time to waste. I ordered the drinks and poured the truth serum from the vial in my pocket. I made sure to note which hand Rachel's glass was in. I wasn't about to risk casting a spell on myself.

  I returned to the table with the drinks and handed Rachel the one in my left hand.

  “Sanks,” she slurred. She gulped it down as if it was water. “You sure this was a filthy witch? Tastes like berry.”

  I gulped mine. “I don't taste berries in mine.” I waited for a moment for the spell to take effect. Keith's song was ending, so I cast another quick spell to keep him on the stage. Tiffany's I Think We're Alone Now would do the trick.

  “Did Keith know about your relationship with Pete?” I asked. Since I knew the answer was yes, so if she said no, I would know the serum hadn't kicked in yet.

  “A course,” Rachel wobbled. “I made sure he knew. I wasn't gonna let him be the only one out there having fun.”

  “What about Tiffany?” I probed. “Did she know?”

  Rachel made a face. “She's got her head stuck too far into that welder's mask to notice anything about Pete. All she cares about is her business. Pete just wanted to have fun once in a while.” A faint smile touched her lips. “Like Cyndi Lauper.”

  “And did you?” I asked. “Have fun together?”

  Rachel smirked. “Oh, we did. As often as the opportunity presented itself.”

  “Did you love him?”

  Rachel recoiled. “Love him? Don't be absurd. I used Pete for sex. My husband's swagger only extends to the stage. It doesn't quite make it to the bedroom, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh. I guess it didn't surprise me that Keith was overcompensating with his persona. It wouldn't be the first time that a man put on airs for the sake of his ego.

  “But what about all these women he claims to sleep with?” I asked. “If he's that disappointing, wouldn't word get around?”

  Rachel shrugged. “You'd be surprised what women put up with.” She eyed me carefully. “Or maybe you wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, Keith is the lead singer in a band. It doesn't matter whether they're famous or not. There are plenty of women out there who want to say that they slept with him. Keith takes full advantage of that.”

  “So I guess that means you didn't intend to leave Keith for Pete,” I said.

  “’Solutely not,” Rachel scoffed, “specially not when his star is on the rise. Pete didn't want to leave Tiffany, either. He begged her to go on tour if and when Fat Gandalf headed to the mainland, but she refused.”

  Well, that fit with what Tiffany had told me.

  “Do you think you and Pete would’ve continued your affair on the road?” I asked.

  “I assume so,” Rachel replied. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

  Keith's song ended and the bar erupted in applause. He took a deep bow and nearly fell off the stage in a drunken stupor. I certainly hoped he was better behaved for the Battle of the Bands competition.

  “Oh, look,” Rachel said. “What a surprise. Lizzie's going to sing.”

  “Lizzie?” I echoed. “Pete's sister-in-law?”

  Rachel nodded. “I guess Mike is watching the kids for a change. About time. That woman’s like a caged animal.”

  Lizzie took the microphone and busted out a Pat Benatar song like a professional diva. “She's amazing,” I said. “She's not in a band?”

  “How could she be?” Rachel asked. “With Pete busy with the band, Mike works triple time. Lizzie has no choice but to look after the kids and do little else.”

  I thought Lizzie’s decision to sing Pat Benatar at Coconuts so soon after her brother's death was odd. Then again, Pete's bandmates and his lover were also here, so maybe that was how the musically-inclined handled grief. I wasn’t one to judge.

  Lizzie finished her song to wild applause.

  “To the manor born,” Rachel muttered.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “They called your name, Kenna.” I whipped around to see Skye grinning.

  Rachel looked shocked. “You’re singing?”

  “Not by choice,” I replied.

  “I didn’t think so,” Rachel said. “You seem far too uptight to be a performer.”

  Skye bit back a smile. “Let’s go, Byrne.”

  “Fine,” I huffed. “No need to manhandle me. I'm going.” So not only did I need to sing, but I needed to follow a very talented Lizzie. Great.

  I made my way to the stage, feeling the heat burn the back of my neck. Buddy had no idea the lengths I would go to in order to protect the island's reputation. If he thought somebody else could do a better job, he was kidding himself.

  I cringed when I realized which song Skye had chosen for me. She didn’t even give me the courtesy of a power ballad. Instead, it was When Doves Cry by Prince. I couldn’t sing in A minor. What was Skye thinking?

  I had no choice but to give it my best.

  The song was far too sexy for me. I warbled and prayed for the torture to end quickly. My hair suddenly blew back as if I were in a Whitesnake video and I knew Skye was responsible for that special effect.

  The only applause came from my tabl
e. I couldn’t bear to look at Lucas.

  “Teamwork makes the dream work,” I said, when I returned to the table.

  Skye rolled her eyes and groaned. “If I hear you say that one more time, I’m going to make you sing an encore.”

  “That was a fine performance, Miss Byrne,” Lucas said.

  “It was awful, but I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Skywalker…I mean…” Crap.

  Lucas grinned. “Talk about a high school flashback.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. I was sure my cheeks flamed crimson.

  He extended his hand. “Now that I know you can sing, maybe you could impress me with your dancing skills.”

  I didn’t know that impress was the right word. Horrify was probably more appropriate.

  The woman onstage began to croon Madonna’s Crazy For You.

  “What do you know?” Lucas said. “Time to slow things down. You could probably use the break.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, as we joined the other dancers.

  “Like I said before—you’re always on the go.” He pulled me closer and began to sway to the beat. “Slow down with me.”

  “I…I can’t,” I said. “There’s always so much to do.” Like solve a murder. Run a successful Battle of the Bands competition. Capture flying monkeys. The list was endless…and tiring. My body began to relax in his arms. Great Goddess, he was built like a refrigerator. A soft, comfy refrigerator.

  “That’s better, isn’t it?” he whispered in my ear.

  It was. The rest of the bar faded away as I danced in his arms. “Now you can demonstrate how Pete and Rachel were making out,” I murmured. Wait, what did I just say? I clamped my hand over my mouth.

  Lucas pulled back slightly. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the music.”

  “I said Rachel’s here.” I tilted my head toward her table. “The one who had the affair with Pete.”

  Lucas followed my gaze to Fat Gandalf’s table. “They all look pretty sloshed.”

  “Could someone get me a waffle with whipped cream?” a voice called.

  My radar pinged. Waffle? “Is the Waffle Wagon here?”