It hadn’t recovered quick enough. That said mortal to me. I know mortal.
“It’s going to take it longer to heal, even with my magic,” I continued.
The fur along the back of Big Al’s neck came to attention. He knew exactly how long it could take for a mortal to heal, magic spells included. I’d unwilling provided the proof a few weeks back. Al hadn’t been present at the scene of my attack, for which he was still pissed and I was still grateful.
“I figure the worse the injury, the longer the healing process.” And internal bleeding was pretty bad.
I planned to question my Aunt Tabs on all of that. My mom and Aunt Tabitha had been around when humans needed help healing and still believed in magic. In fact, they’d almost been burned alive for it during the Salem Witch Trials. We are not immortal, but we are very long lived.
Those memories tend to linger with a witch.
We left my bedroom and headed down the hall. I didn’t bother with the window in the bathroom. It’s too small and I had no desire to pee on a freezing cold toilet.
“How long do ya think it will take for Bigfoot to heal?” Al waited in the doorway of my office.
“I’m not sure.” This window was a bit tricky. “I’m hoping no more than two or three days at the most.” I grunted as I put my shoulder under the frame and shoved. “Are you all right with that?” With a final oomph the window jerked open.
“I’m always here when ya need me, Doll.” He blinked his bulging brown eyes slowly up at me. It’s come to my attention lately that Al has a manipulative side to his doggy hide.
“Don’t forget your Spell Book.” He turned around. “It’s on the third shelf.”
I glowered at his backside. I have no idea how he maneuvered his way around my scentless spell, but one thing was blatantly clear. I’d have to find a more secure hiding spot for my Spell Book.
The very last thing I needed right now was for my Chihuahua to get into my love spells.
4. Smells Like Bear and Monkey.
Ash laid Bigfoot on the pull-out. A concealing spell is one of those oldies and frequently used ones. It also has a time limit. Probably some warlock’s idea of a joke.
Wisps of my magic drifted into the air above Bigfoot as my spell dissolved. Magic takes a lot of energy and I was running low on mine.
Al hopped onto a small section of empty space between Bigfoot’s elbow and the edge of the mattress. “Smells like bear.” He leaned forward and sniffed, before backing up quickly. “And monkey.”
I live in Idaho and have walked passed the body of a bear or two in the back of a pick-up to know the first part was true. I’ve never been to the zoo or seen a live monkey before. Or smelled one. They’re cute on TV, but . . .
I took a shallow breath. I somehow doubted I’d have the urge to view one up close after a day or two. Possibly not after another hour.
I stepped a casual foot or two back. And promptly ran into Ash. He could stay away from the odor. I was the one with the guilty conscience.
His big arms slid around my middle to pull me back into the heat and comfort of him. We all studied the body on my pull-out.
Ash coughed. “How long did you say the healing spell would take?”
I breathed through my mouth. Way too long.
“A few days.” It had taken me a good twenty-four hours to heal from a beating. Tack on another forty-eight for internal bleeding and I figured I was close. Aunt Tabs would know for certain.
Internal bleeding. I checked out the view through my open window. Once I had my stomach under control I glanced back at the Bigfoot.
Matted dark fur huddled together in dreadlocked clumps all over its body. A wide array of assorted vegetation had made its way into most of the soaked wads. And where there is a leaf there is some sort of hungry bug. Translation: I’d be in the market for a new pull-out after Bigfoot recovered.
And a lot of disinfectant while it did recover.
Darn my guilty conscience.
Big foot shifted. Let out a tortured moan.
Ah. I could afford a new couch now that business has picked up. Yes, I could also cast a spell to clean my couch, but there would always be the thought that a wet, smelly, extremely hairy body had laid on it. And then there were the bugs.
I patted Ash’s arm, letting my fingers linger on his firm male skin. “I’ve got to call Aunt Tabs.” He slid his hands down to my hips, squeezed and patted my backside.
I took four steps before my brain kicked back in. “Al, why don’t you come with me?”
“Why don’t you use your cellular phone?” Hell is a little behind in technology. They don’t have electricity or flushing toilets. Ash has adjusted to being in this realm and the conveniences of modern life quite well. His Dodge has a Turbo.
He’s still working on the lingo. “Cell phone, not cellular. And I can’t. Mine got destroyed in the rain.” I looked at Al. “Coming?”
Al hopped down from the mattress. His ears at full attention and his tiny chest leading the way, he trotted past Ash who made a show of crossing his arms over his chest and leaning casually against the wall.
I’m fairly certain Ash added an extra muscle flex in with his stance. I know Al lifted his lip.
Males. Ego does not differentiate when it comes to species.
I picked up the phone in my kitchen and hit number two on the speed dial. The phone rang twice before she picked up.
“Hello, dear.”
I love caller ID. Actually, we witches have had it forever. We refer to it as intuition or magic. But caller ID saves an extra spell. Aunt Tabs claims it’s lazy, although she didn’t complain overly much when I had it installed on her phone a few weeks ago.
“Hi, Aunt Tabs.”
I realize Tabitha sounds like the stereotypical witch name. My mother’s name was Samantha. Again a little too witchy. However, if mom hadn’t been dating a certain TV producer during the sixties who happened to need a real live witch for his TV show - under budget didn’t begin to describe it - then the names wouldn’t have become as popular as they have today.
Mom was a great witch. Not so great at remembering things. She could not remember the names they originally planned to use, so they went with her real name and my Aunt’s name for the daughter.
DO NOT get me started on the Elizabeth Montgomery why’s and reason’s for.
“What’s wrong?” Witchy intuition, I’m telling you. Better than an X-ray any day.
“I need your help with a healing spell.” More than likely several healing spells.
“Don’t you have your Spell Book?” Aunt Tabs might be my aunt, but ever since my mother had died she’d taken her role as care-taker VERY SERIOUSLY. My pulse pitter-pattered at the mere thought of losing that book. My aunt is a single witch and she’d held down two jobs before I quit school.
“Yep. Have it right here.” I tried to inject my smile through the phone. “I’m having a little trouble with the exact species part.”
I counted to four before Aunt Tabs asked, “You don’t know the species?” It simply sounded odd no matter who said it.
“Not really. No. I ran over Bigfoot on the way to Sandra and Spike’s party.” Actually it was more of a case of accordian-ing into Bigfoot, but the specific details wouldn’t improve my story.
“Bigfoot? I thought he was a myth.”
I was so ruining everyone’s faith in that legend tonight.
“Nope. Turns out it’s not. Big, hairy, smelly and not dent proof.”
“I’m on my way over.”
I sort of figured that would be the case. It’s not often one runs across a truly mythological creature. Which meant I had about fifteen minutes to encourage Ash to leave.
Less if she came by broom.
I’m not ashamed of Ash or our relationship. But the whole Cursed In Love thing hanging over our coven can be a real downer. I’d been doing a successful duck and dodge with Ash and Aunt Tabs so far. I wasn’t up for the big meet tonight.
Plus, Ash is a Demon Lord. Aunt Tabs hasn’t had too many fond thoughts of Demon Lords since one had kidnapped her last century.
I sort of thought it was romantic myself.
“Is she comin’ over?” Al asked.
Aunt Tabs watched Al while I was at work. They have a tight relationship. She also makes him homemade manicotti.
“Yeah. She’s on her way.” I caught his quick grin before he turned and trotted, practically skipping, down the hall.
I hit the living room at a fast pace. I’d have been running if my apartment was bigger. I entered in time to hear Al. “Yer outta here, Ass.”
“You know, my boots are bigger than you are, furball.” Ash stood up straight, looming over Big Al.
I snatched Al up. “I’ll be right back.” Al opened his little mouth and I squeezed. You’d think my boyfriend and my Chihuahua would be on their best behavior after the night I’d had.
I opened the door to my bedroom and set him down on my bed. “Not another word.” He headed over and planted his tiny butt on my pillow.
From the look in his bulging eyes I knew he figured he’d won that round. He was the one in my bed after all.
I shut the door. Crazy Chihuahua.
I turned around. Ash stood at the end of the hall, next to the front door. His amber eyes stroked up and down my body in a swift caress.
“You’re kicking me out?”
“My aunt is on her way over.”
“Time for me to leave then.”
I’m not the only one who prefers to keep our relationship just between us.
A little vise squeezed my heart. Not fair, I know. I was the one asking him to leave. And yet . . . I wanted him to demand to be in my life. All aspects of it. I wanted him to tell me about the shadows that lurked in his eyes. I wanted . . . A lot of things.
Sadly, we don’t always get what we want.
I plastered a smile on my face as I walked toward him. “We certainly don’t want you to be here when Aunt Tabs arrives.” Great, now I was using the royal we. And there was a distinct bite to my words.
I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal of the doorknob. Strong, determined fingers closed over mine. He squeezed gently. Then the warmth of his chest pressed against my back, pushed me forward until I couldn’t move any farther. Caught between the smooth, cool wood of the door and the muscled heat of Ash.
His head dropped forward over mine. His words rumbling down at me. “I don’t want to leave, Kate.” His hips pressed into my back, the firm ridge of his erection adding physical proof to his words. “I want you.”
Spirits help me, I wanted him too. And it flat out terrified me. He already had most of my heart. If I gave him my body as well, what would I have of me? When the curse took effect, how would I survive it?
“Ash.” His name caught in my throat. His chin rubbed slowly back and forth over my hair. My eyes closed and the scents and textures of him surrounded me. I inhaled the earthy, slightly smoky scent that made up Ash.
I turned my head, rubbed my cheek over the soft leather of his vest. He drew his arms in, enclosing me in the tight cage of his embrace, his possession.
“Tomorrow night. I want to see you.”
His chest vibrated against my back as he spoke. Something dark and faintly dangerous edged his voice. Reminded me he held secrets I was not aware of. And that he did not want to share with me.
My chest tightened, suffocated in a panicked moment of his possession and my emotions. Our relationship. The curse. His secrecy.
I’ve never allowed myself to dream. I’ve always been aware of my history and my flaws. They’ve been shoved into my face enough times to be impossible to ignore.
These things I know. I’m familiar with. But to want something, to know I would have to fight for it and the very real possibility that I could easily lose that battle . . . That scared the wand right out of my hand.
The odds were already stacked against us.
My throat closed in. Pinpricks of fear tingled down my spine.
Ash slid his hand under my hair, his strong fingers closed over the nape of my neck, caressed the sensitive skin there.
“Kate?”
I’m many things. Half breed. Cursed. Witch. But a coward I’m not.
“Seven tomorrow night.”
On the other hand, I may just be a complete idiot.
5. Minor and Major Upheavals.
I watched the taillights of Ash’s truck disappear around the corner. My lips still tingled. Along with several other body parts. Damn, that demon knew how to kiss.
Licking my lips, I turned to head back up to my apartment. A flash of light caught my eye. Same apartment four doors down. I watched as the curtains shifted then went still.
Interesting. Looked like I was going to get a chance to brush up on my Witch Detective skills again.
Bright light cut through the dark to my other side. I turned to watch the headlights zoom down my street. As she slammed to a stop behind my yellow Mini, I could only be thankful she hadn’t come by broom.
1. She’d missed Ash by seconds and 2. The nosy new neighbor was a definite concern.
An umbrella emerged from the silver Prius, snapped open to display a lovely leopard print, and rose elegantly into the dismal evening as my aunt got out.
She tightened the belt on her grey metallic raincoat before closing the door. Aunt Tabs chose her car with as much care for the weather in Idaho as I did. Screw that.
She has front wheel drive too which makes driving a white knuckled adventure for about eight solid months out of the year. That plus a near constant stream of spells.
Amazingly, I fit in better in our small town than my aunt. My jeans and t-shirts are standard fare in this part of West. My thick biker’s boots are less common than the cowboy boots, hiking boots and running shoes, but no one bats their eyes too hard.
Aunt Tabs had on a pair of three inch leopard print heels peeking out from under skinny jeans. The jeans were slate grey with a silvery metallic thread which caused them to sparkle even in the dimness of the evening. A fuchsia purse was slung over her shoulder.
The skin along my neck tingled in alarm. “You should lock your car.”
Aunt Tabs paused on the sidewalk, frowned. Small towns have their goods and bads like everything else. One of the definite goods is the crime rate. Or lack there of.
I brushed some water out of my eyes and nodded, “you should lock your car.”
Something in my tone must have alerted her because she didn’t argue. Aunt Tabitha walked back around the front of her Prius, opened the door and pulled out her keys. She beeped the lock.
I did the same with my Mini.
The one thing about being a secret minority, you get used to keeping a low profile and trusting your instincts. Mine were suddenly screaming loud enough to be heard four counties over.
The tap tap of her heels rang out as we walked up the sidewalk. My boots more or less squelched in the rain.
Aunt Tabs shook out her umbrella in the entry. Despite the rain her silky blonde hair was smooth and perfectly in place. I wrung out my curls. Little drops of water sprinkled the floor next to my aunt. I squeezed a surprisingly steady stream near my own feet. Guess I’d been too distracted to notice the rain was more than a drizzle.
Before she could begin, I said, “I have a new neighbor a few doors down. He appears to be suspiciously nosy.”
“Shit.” Aunt Tabs rarely curses, then again she had also survived the Salem Witch Trials. Like I’ve said: some things stay with a witch. Persecution is a big one.
She pulled her wand out of her purse. “Do you need me to work a spell?” Aunt Tabs is generally a neutral witch. She has her own life and she likes it. However, she is also a very protective aunt. Another reason I have kept her and Ash from meeting. Given her history with Demon Lords, I don’t think she’d blink at turning him into a small frog. Complete with warts.
“No. I’m good.” I waved at her to put her wand away. “I think
I’m going to check him out first before I do anything like erase his memory.”
“Well, just be careful.”
“Always, Aunt Tabs.”
We headed up the stairs. I opened the door. Damp, chilly air rushed out. “Why are your windows open? It’s cold tonight.” She looked around eagerly. “Does Bigfoot like the cold? Are you sure it’s Bigfoot?”
Wow. She was as giddy as a witch at her first ceremony. I’d never seen her so excited. Guess a mythological creature will do that to anyone.
“Positive Aunt Tabs. It’s on my couch.” She trotted into the living room. I followed more slowly and with my hand already over my nose.
“Sweet Spirits. It IS Bigfoot.” Aunt Tabitha rushed over to the pull out. Just as quickly she backed up. “Ah.” She clamped her forearm over her face. “It . . .” She coughed.
“Really, really smells.” I stayed where I was. At the doorway to the living room. “What species do you think it is?” The sooner this thing was out of my apartment, the better I’d be able to breathe.
“Ah mmm naw shur.”
“You’re talking into your elbow, Aunt Tabs.” I pointed out. “I can’t understand you.”
She moved her arm just far enough away to say, “I’m not really certain.” She blinked hard. “The smell is so strong my eyes are watering.”
Didn’t I know it.
She pulled her wand out of her purse. Whispered a few words. Immediately the smell died down to a bare whiff of stench, like standing over a trash can to smell the rotten eggs instead of noticing the aroma the moment you opened the door.
What kind of witch was I? I could have looked up the spell for odor control. Drat my one track mind and my utter despair over possibly being a mythological annihilator.
We both heaved a sigh. I hurried over to the window and closed it, reconsidered and re-opened it a few inches. The rain wouldn’t be able to get in now and the breeze would allow the air to circulate enough to keep the remaining odor down to a bare minimum.
“Is someone out there with ya, Doll? Do ya need my help?”
Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1) Page 3
