“So, what’s the problem?” An insistent kitty paw jabbed me in my shoulder blade.
“No problem.” I expelled a long breath through pursed lips, flopped onto my back, and stared at the sagging headliner. Garrett tentatively propped his chin on my shoulder. Encouraged when I didn’t push him away, he scooched closer and curled against me. “Garrett, can I ask you something?”
“Can I stop you?” He threw my words back at me. “Shoot.”
“You know why I refused Baba Yaga’s proposition. Why did you?”
“I didn’t,” he replied. “I’m sixty-seven years old. It’s time I took a mate. I never dreamed my destiny would involve a witch, but the Fates seemed to think it might. I had no issue exploring the possibility. The fact you’re considered one of the leading experts in the field of magical botany and horticulture was the icing on the cake.”
“Why?”
“Because my people are mainly farmers. We depend on the income from our agriculture. We get by, but with the price of everything going up, and the profit margin going down, it’s getting tougher to survive. I hoped you might have some helpful advice.”
“I see.” The bubble of hope percolating in my chest fizzled and died. It wasn’t me, Louella Ladyfern, who piqued his interest. It was the Adjunct Professor in the Department of Healing Herbs and Medicinal Plants.
“No, I don’t think you do,” he growled, climbing onto my stomach and planting his little kitty paws squarely on my chest. His whiskers tickled as he touched his moist nose to mine. “I said your knowledge was the icing on the cake, not the main course. I’m not your warlock, Ella. If I’d consider a relationship for no reason other than picking your brain for my own benefit, I wouldn’t be much of a man. I also wouldn’t be a cat. I’m not cursed because I rejected a date. I’m cursed because I refused to go along with tricking you into a mating you were so clearly opposed to.”
“You did?” I jerked upright, slamming my head again. Garrett tumbled from my chest and landed with a thunk on all fours—naturally—at my side. “So, let me get this straight. You were presented with a solution to your problem on a silver platter, and rather than trick me and help your people, you refused? Why? You didn’t even know me.”
“I knew myself,” he responded quietly. “That’s not who I am, and subterfuge and dishonestly aren’t the example I care to set. The wrong way is never the right way, no matter how tempting.” He swiped his little pink tongue over the pad of his foot and commenced grooming his left ear, avoiding my wide-eyed gaze.
I digested that for a moment. His revelation produced no further sensation of gastroesophageal reflux. It did, in fact, act like a slowly dissolving antacid on the discomfort I’d previously felt. He’d been handed the opportunity to help his people, and rather than take advantage of me to avail himself of it, he chose exile in the guise of a cat. It had to go against every alpha instinct in his body. I guess that alone said something about his character.
Garrett wasn’t my warlock—who’d never really been mine anyway, thank Goddess. Yes, being alone had been a conscious choice, but it was also…lonely. I’d allowed one poor decision to destroy my faith in my own judgement. One. Granted, it was a doozy, but maybe it was time to let myself off the hook. I drew in a deep breath and slowly released it.
“Thank you, Garrett.”
“For?” He paused with one hind leg raised straight in the air, a certain precursor to the grooming of the nads.
I could have said, for being a decent man who showed me unfortunate circumstances didn’t have to make you bitter. I could have said, for having the strength of character to sacrifice himself, rather than take advantage of a stranger who’d already been taken advantage of by someone she trusted. I could have said, for helping me understand one misguided error in judgement didn’t have to define me. I could have said so many things, but what I said was…
“Addendum to Rule Number One. You will refrain from licking your dingle berries when we are in the same room.”
“Cleanliness is next to Goddess-ness. It never bothered you before.”
“Because I thought you were a cat.”
“I am a cat.”
“Temporarily. I repeat, Rule Number One—you don’t watch me shower, and I don’t watch you lick your balls. Deal?”
“How about if you watch me shower, and I’ll watch you lick my—”
“Under the present circumstances, I’d have to say that’s about as likely as the second Tuesday of next week. However, I am open to renegotiation of the rules once I figure out how to break the spell.”
“In that case, Buttercup.” He lowered his leg, sat back on his haunches, and stuck out a paw. After a moment’s hesitation, I reached out, grasped the proffered appendage between my thumb and forefinger, and gave it a shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Is that the sun coming up already?” I sighed, glancing at the strip of lighter darkness along the horizon in the distance.
“No, it’s the lights from town since we only managed to progress a few miles outside the city limits,” Garrett laughed.
“Well, the likelihood of me falling asleep, previously slim, has been reduced to nil. Why don’t you hop over here and tell me more about your valley and how I can help.” I shoved the pillows behind my back and patted the blanket beside me.
“You’ll help?” Garrett’s eyes widened as he pranced over to the spot I indicated.
“I don’t know if I can, and I’ll need to get my magic back first. But, I’m certainly willing to try.”
He stretched out bedside me and treated me to a lengthy examination of his tonsils as his mouth opened in a wide and drawn-out yawn. His eyes drifted closed. I pinched the fur under his chin and yanked. Hard.
“Son of a beechnut tree, Garrett! Don’t you dare fall asleep on me!”
“Ouch! Dammit, Louella.” He leapt over me and scooted across the space, out of reach. “I can’t help it. I told you it’s a cat problem. And for the record, there are any number of things I’d like to do on you, sleeping isn’t one of them.”
“Promises, promises. Now, settle your furry butt and tell me more about your valley. Suppress the cat and stay awake. Channel your inner wolf or something.”
“Fine,” he moaned, schlepping back to my side. “We were doing all right until the last planting season. By the time the first crops broke through the soil, it was clear they were failing. Bickering broke out everywhere, even among families. By the time the harvest rolled around, almost everything was gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Garrett.” I absently buried my fingers in the warm scruff of his neck and massaged the tense muscles. “I can’t imagine how it feels to watch your people lose everything right before your eyes and be powerless to stop it. Could it be dark magic of some kind?”
“What makes you think it has anything to do with magic at all?”
“Previously, your crops did well. Now they’re failing for no apparent reason. While white magic is cast for good purpose, for healing, or for the welfare of others, dark magic is self-serving, and is cast to benefit the practitioner, or to cause pain or harm.” I shrugged. “Of course, it could be something completely non-magical like soil fatigue, a pest infestation, or incorrect crop rotation. I won’t know until I have a chance to examine the area and collect some samples.”
“So, being a white witch who can only cast for the welfare of others, you can’t, for example, whip yourself up a new designer wardrobe anytime the urge strikes?”
“Um, technically no. Not unless it benefits someone besides myself.”
“Exactly how could your wardrobe benefit anyone else?” Garrett laughed.
“Look at it this way. Which more positively impacts your mood? My current ensemble?” I pointed to my ragged jeans, sweat shirt, and sneakers. “Or a matched set of high-end, black lace lingerie and a pair of sky-high red stilettos?”
“Oh, most definitely the latter,” he growled deep in his chest.
“So, now you und
erstand the benefit.” I grinned. Though a witch did have to employ discretion. When I contended my students would find it distracting, disconcerting even, if I showed up for class dressed like a bag lady, Baba Yaga concurred. However, she zapped me on the wrist anyway, because she refused to concede my designer boots were strictly necessary to the academic look of a modern, magical educator. A girl’s got to pick her battles.
“Yes, I certainly do.” His tongue snaked out and flicked across his chops as his eyes narrowed.
“Then my work here is done.” I nodded and closed my eyes with a smile. Despite the chill evening air, I felt warm, safe, almost relaxed, though circumstances and uncertainty plagued me. It was nice snuggled here in the dark with a comfy blanket and my wolf Shifter in cat’s clothing. I might even have dozed off for a few minutes if the flashing blue and red lights piercing my cocoon of contentment like drunken strobe lights hadn’t interrupted. Ignoring my cat’s muttered “shit”, I squeezed my eyes closed, loathe to abandon my temporary happy place. Unfortunately, the sharp rap of metal on the window glass, and the fifty thousand watt flashlight illuminating the back of my eyelids thwarted my efforts to pretend a police cruiser hadn’t pulled up to bestow a kiss on Ronald’s rear bumper.
“Play it cool, Ella,” Garrett whispered. “Try not to say or do anything stupid.”
“I think I should be offended on so many levels,” I hissed back as I leaned over the seat to crank open the window. “Good evening, officer. Is there a problem?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He diverted his blinding torch to examine Ronald’s ragged interior, then scribbled something on the clipboard he pulled from beneath his arm.
“No, problem here,” I assured him with a smile. “My cat and I just decided to pull over for a little shut eye. Very bad idea to drive when one is sleepy, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Also a very bad idea to pull off to the side for a nap on a dark and deserted road,” he shot back. “Please step out of the vehicle, ma’am.”
While I hauled my butt over the seat and yanked at the door handle, Robocop rattled off Ronald’s make and model, along with the license plate number, into a little box clipped to his shoulder. Leaving the door ajar, I stood shivering next to the car, my rumpled clothes and disheveled purple hair illuminated in all their unfortunate glory by the headlights of the cruiser. As the officer walked slowly around the car, shining his light inside, Garrett jumped from the back and crouched on the seat behind me. While I wasn’t sure what he could do in that position besides ogle my ass, it did make me feel less alone. I reached back to scratch his head, my fingers stiffening and my eyes widening in horror as a bored voice squawked from the officer’s little black box in a burst of static. “Reported stolen.”
“Crap on a cracker!” I shouted, stomping my foot as Officer Pain-in-my-Ass came around the front of the car. “I paid for Ronald fair and square!”
“Ronald?” The cop’s brows drew together.
“The car,” I clarified, not caring what he thought of my name choice. “I paid honest money for this bucket of bolts. Granted, not a lot of money, but seriously, have you taken a good look at him? I may be a carbohydrate addict, and a bit of a whiner, and perhaps occasionally overestimate my tolerance for tequila—”
“Not helping,” Garrett warned in a voice only I could hear.
“But, I am no thief.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shoved my fists into my armpits for warmth as a cold, unpleasant wind carrying the scent of tainted trout kicked up. “See for yourself. The pink slip is in my purse on the back seat.”
“Show me.” The officer motioned with his light, fixing the beam on my bag as I reached past Garrett to snatch my proof of ownership right off the top where I’d shoved it. I thrust the wrinkled paper into the cop’s outstretched hand, and prepared to be vindicated.
“Lucky Leon. It figures.” He shook his head and handed the slip back. “I’m sorry, miss. You’ll need a lawyer to get your money back, but it’s unlikely Leon will be in any position to reimburse you since he’ll be locked up in the county prison. Again. I believe you didn’t personally steal this car, but it is a stolen vehicle. I have no choice but to impound it.”
“Impound it?” I swallowed hard over a cold lump of panic. “But…we’ll be stranded. I don’t have the resources to buy another car. Couldn’t you please let me keep it temporarily if I promise to turn it in when I reach my destination? How about if I buy some tickets to the Policemen’s Ball, or something?”
“Are you offering me a bribe?”
“No, of course not. Unless you’re accepting those today? Look, officer, I’m just a girl, standing in the cold with little money and no sense of direction, driving a beat-up hunk of scrap iron, wishing it was a late model luxury car, and desperately trying to get home. Couldn’t you please cut me a break?”
“Sorry, no can do. Besides, policemen in this town don’t have balls.”
“That must be terribly disappointing for their wives.” I smirked.
Judging by the officers darkening complexion and lowered brows, accompanied by Garrett’s pained groan, it had probably been the wrong thing to say.
Chapter Seven
“A truck stop? That uniformed toe-sucker abandoned us at a truck stop?”
“Well, if you’d like to pretend you’re an optimist and adopt a glass-half-full attitude, we’re at least fifty miles closer to home than when we started,” Garrett yawned from the confines of his carrier. The waitress had refused to let me bring him inside, and I’d refused to leave him outside alone. Instead, we sat tucked out of the persistent wind between an outcropping of the building’s wall and the side of a dumpster. We huddled together under the blanket I’d snagged before they towed my poor, decrepit Ronald away to the impound lot. Garrett pawed at the door and I flipped it open, allowing him to crawl into my lap. Because, you know, body heat. “And he did buy you coffee before he left, despite your implication he possessed no testicles.”
“I did not suggest he lacked family jewels,” I argued, biting back a grin. “I simply pointed out it’s sad the policemen’s wives aren’t afforded the annual opportunity to get all dressed up and go out for dinner and dancing.”
“Sure you did,” Garrett drawled. “What about you, Louella Ladyfern? You like getting all dressed up to go out for dinner and dancing?”
“It sounds pleasant enough, I guess.”
“What do you mean, it sounds pleasant? You’ve never done it?”
“Well, of course I’ve done it…sort of. I mean, I’ve dressed up. I’ve had dinner. I’ve danced. Though as we’ve previously discussed, motion lights put the kibosh to the dancing.”
“So, what do you do for fun?” He persisted.
“I read, research, garden…” I shrugged and shifted my cold, damp, and increasingly uncomfortable ass on the unforgiving concrete. My booty throbbed like a motherhumper, and not in a good way. Okay, maybe it had been a long time since I’d dated, or danced, or done anything remotely entertaining by other people’s standards. I sighed. I guess maybe what started out as a choice had developed into a teeny little rut. “However, at the moment, my social life is hardly the priority. How are we supposed to get home without a car?”
“Well, we are at a truck stop. What better place to hitch a ride? Someone must be going our way.”
“Isn’t hitchhiking dangerous? I mean, if I had my magic I wouldn’t worry so much, but…” I hesitated.
“If you had your magic, we wouldn’t need a ride in the first place. Face it, Buttercup, our current options are limited.” Garrett poked his head out of the blanket and sniffed the air. I have no idea what he hoped to detect, but when I took a deep breath, I perceived nothing except a snoot full of exhaust fumes, the decaying aroma of the dumpster, and the persistent scent of rotting fish. All of which immediately twisted my gut into a knot and made me throw up a little in my mouth. Garrett wriggled free of both my embrace and the blanket as I concentrated on keeping the cont
ents of my heaving stomach right where they belonged.
“Where are you going?”
“Off to do a little recon. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Garrett, I don’t think—” I called out as he streaked off toward a line of idling eighteen-wheelers parked behind the building. He trotted to the end of the line and crouched behind the tires—big, gigantic tires that could squish his little black cat body like a bug—hidden from the small knot of truckers laughing and slugging down super-sized cups of coffee.
Heart slamming against my ribs, I leaned forward, my eyes straining against darkness barely illuminated by the glow of the big rigs’ parking lights. Garrett finally abandoned his post and scampered in my direction. I lifted the blanket, and welcomed the weight as he jumped into my lap and curled against my stomach. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I expelled it in a loud, relieved whoosh.
“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird’s wings,” he observed with a laugh. “Were you worried about me?”
“Of course not,” I infused my voice with as much scorn as I could muster. But, the tremor gave me away. I had been worried and the cocky little cat-pig-wolf Shifter knew it. “It’s the caffeine. What did you find out?”
“Two of them heading north, three heading east, but the big guy with the gray ponytail and leather suspenders is heading our way. That’s our man.”
“You want me to walk up to that behemoth and ask him for a ride?” I shuddered. “The one who looks like he eats small children for breakfast and uses their arms for toothpicks?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he growled. “I would never allow you to put yourself in that kind of danger.”
“Excuse me, did you say allow?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Because I feel compelled to point out you’re not the boss of me.”
“You want to sashay on over there, bat your big blue eyes, twirl your purple hair, and ask for a ride? Have at it, Buttercup. However, I feel obliged to point out when it comes down to a roadside wrestling match with that guy on an isolated stretch of highway—and it will—you’ll lose.” He paused, looked away, and then continued in a voice filled with self-loathing. “And I’m currently in no position to protect you.”
Magic and Mayhem: Witchin' A Ride (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 5
