Water Witch

by R. J. Blain

  “I see them.”

  Dean tapped a button on the phone. “See the matching number on the buttons?”

  “I do.”

  “Tap them in the same order as they’re shown here.”

  I obeyed, taking care to make sure I hit them in the same order. When I pressed the last one, Dean held the phone to his ear. Within two minutes, he placed an order for three large pizzas, two bottles of soda, more chicken wings than I could count on two hands, and bread sticks.

  “Thirty-six. Explain this number, please.”

  “Ten three times plus six is thirty-six. Three sets of ten is thirty. There are six wings more than thirty, which becomes thirty-six.”

  “That seems like such a random number. Why did you order that number of chicken wings?”

  “I wasn’t sure how many to get, they come in batches of twelve, so I decided I would order one for each of us.”

  Xena sighed. “I’m going to get fat, and this will be all your fault, Dean. When I get fat eating all this food, I will come for you.”

  “Will you, though? I’m sure you’ll try, but once you’re pleasantly plump, will you be able to catch me?”

  With an infuriated shriek, Xena chased after her brother, and I amused myself watching the pair run around the hotel room.

  Chapter Six

  Somehow, I avoided sharing a bed with anyone, although I questioned how I’d gotten onto the floor. I expected the soft bed had something to do with my situation. The prison beds—or cots, depending on how well I’d behaved—tended to be rock hard. The hotel mattress liked trying to eat unsuspecting people. Maybe it hadn’t liked how I’d tasted and spit me out.

  Great. One night with the unicorns had driven me crazy. Maybe crazier.

  Oh, well.

  The unicorns had fed me pizza, and upon discovering how much I’d liked chicken wings, Dean had given me his share, elevating him to the best unicorn on Earth.

  “Finally awake?” Xena bounced off the bed and sat on the floor beside me. “You ate two whole pizzas, every single chicken wing to enter the room, and drank half a bottle of soda. I’m pretty sure you’ve never had much sugar before last night, because I’ve never seen a human bounce that much in my entire life. It was like watching a drunk, except you were hyper rather than drunk.”

  I struggled to remember last night, which had gone by in a food-filled blur. “Did that really happen?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Where’s Dean?”

  “Yelling at a judge, I expect. He’s really good at yelling. He left an hour ago and told me to let you sleep as long as you needed. You slept right through him falling out of bed onto your little nest down there.”

  “I was wondering why I’m on the floor,” I admitted.

  “At around three in the morning, you went to the bathroom, and when you were finished, you staggered back in here, got somewhat confused, grabbed the nearest blanket, and curled up on the floor with it. You took Dean’s blanket, by the way. Startled him awake, and then he added to your nest since he had no idea why you’d targeted his blanket, but he’s an idiot stallion, so he wasn’t going to take his blanket back. Really, he’s just an idiot stallion. Don’t mind him.”

  “I do have a bad habit of stealing things.”

  “Well, my brother has already come up with various solutions to your blanket thievery. He is convinced if he purchases enough blankets, you will save him one. I believe he’s already strategizing his blanket acquisitions. I’m concerned he’s going to try to lure you to his bed through the use of soft blankets. Honestly, I won’t blame you if you fall for that. Soft blankets are sinful, and if you have to accept a stallion to get a blanket, you could be worse off.”

  “I could be?”

  “Sure. You wouldn’t have the warm, soft blanket, but stallions are warm. I’m debating if I want to hunt a stallion or convert a human. Either way, I will win. My father, my brothers, and my sister’s stallions are all heat generators. It’s a selling point on why I should put up with a stallion.”

  “Let me guess. You want to steal your stallion because stealing is half the fun.”

  “That did not take you long to figure out at all. I’m so proud of you.”

  “I’m pretty sure the prison guards would call you a bad influence, Xena.”

  “Yes. I’m sure they would. And they would be correct. I do mean to take over the world. I don’t mean to repopulate it with others of my kind, though. I’ll leave that to my brothers, my parents, and my sisters. They all, for some damned reason, seem pretty keen on the idea.”

  “I would prefer to remain out of prison, so leave me out of any thefts for now.”

  “I appreciate you’re considering participation in thefts later.”

  “It would have to be a really good theft.”

  “How about we steal one of your paintings?”

  “What?”

  “Well, someone had you painting really nice paintings, right? Probably counterfeits, from the sounds of it. Those paintings have to be somewhere. Let’s go find out where one of them is and steal it.”

  “Why would we steal that? I can just paint a new one.”

  “You can do that. Actually, that’s a really good idea. Let’s go get you painting supplies while my brother is busy yelling at a judge. Dean’ll feel better once he’s done his duties as an overprotective stallion.”

  I doubted I would ever understand Xena, what went on in her head, or what drove her to want to take over the world when I thought she already had a good deal. Her brother obviously cared for her, she had a family who loved her enough to set limits, and she seemed happy. I wondered what life would’ve been like if I’d had a family who’d cared for me enough to stick around.

  “Stealing one of your paintings would be a great entry into world domination. And I’d be able to see one of your paintings. You said you only did duplicates?”

  “Not really. Sometimes I painted what I was told, sometimes they told me to paint something similar but not the same. It varied. I’d work on a lot of paintings at one time, too. The paint had to dry. They had an entire room set aside for paintings. I spent most of my time there.”

  “The room was probably dismantled the instant the judge ordered the prison to be investigated. An undiscovered painting by a famous painter would be worth a fortune on the market, and if your art was close enough to pass, someone could age the paint and canvas—assuming they used the same types of canvas and methods they used in the era the originals were painted. It’s lucrative.”

  “How lucrative?”

  “One painting could pay your rent and cost of living for the rest of your life.”

  I was grateful she hadn’t put a number to that. “So, one of those is worth a lot, then.”

  “Yes, it’s worth a lot. And if you’re good enough to create art that could pass as an undiscovered piece, then it’s worth the risk keeping someone like you in the system. One of those paintings, if successfully sold, could keep numerous accomplices happy. How many paintings have you finished? Wait. That was a bad question. Can you tell me how long it would take for you to finish a painting?”

  “I’d finish six or seven paintings every few weeks, I suppose. The time between hearings.”

  “And you’ve been painting all of your life.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What awful people. I hope my brother stabs them, cooks them, and eats them.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “Deserved, though.”

  “Would Dean actually eat them?”

  “No. He prefers his meat incapable of speaking to him.”

  That worried me. “And you?”

  “I’ll try just about everything once.”

  “I will shank you with your own horn if you try to stab, cook, or eat me.”

  “You’re very fond of shanking people.”

  Was I? I thought about that, and after consideration, I nodded. “It’s effective at stopping people from doing things I don’t want do
ne to me. It is an efficient deterrent.”

  “I also like how you’re somewhat uneducated, but you speak like you’ve been to school. Where did you learn phrases like efficient deterrent?”

  “The prison guards, as they were constantly testing new deterrents to keep us in line. I didn’t create many problems. I guess I was easily deterred.”

  “Unless someone got in your face, at which point, you would shank them.”

  “Exactly. I only shank someone when provoked. If they leave me alone, I will leave them alone.”

  “You’re a walking deterrent.”

  “Am I?”

  “Well, if I’d been there and seen you shank a bunch of people for bothering you, I wouldn’t bother you. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. If you’re the kind to wade in and shank people causing other people problems, I wouldn’t bother anyone where you might catch me.”

  “I did do that sometimes.”

  “I know. We saw your file. Dean is quite the conspirator when he wants to be, and our species gives him a certain amount of leeway, especially when he expresses interest in someone of the other gender. Really, he was just bored and figured a woman from prison would be interesting. I’m still not sure how he convinced someone in the system he wanted some prison chick, though.”

  “I know some good psychologists in the prison system. Dean might benefit from them.” I couldn’t resent Dean for assuming someone involved with the prison system would be interesting. I certainly made court sessions interesting. “Why did he really decide to involve himself in my affairs?”

  “He saw your picture and decided you were hot, you had to be interesting, and you’d keep him on his toes. It was lust at first sight, although that’s not much considering we’re talking about a stallion here. Lusty is their default.”

  “Is it?”

  “Sadly, yes. But in good news, he finds you very attractive. Honestly, you seem rather plain to me, but I’m not the one who has to live with you. Well, mostly. Ugh. I don’t want to think about my brother being lusty, but that’s what I’ve been dealing with for weeks. Damn it. Let’s go buy whatever it is you need to make paintings happen. Go take a bath and try not to drown yourself.”

  “You’re going to have to explain that.” After an entire evening of confessing my ignorance, it’d gotten easier to accept I knew jack shit about life outside of a small cell, no matter what the other inmates had discussed.

  None of it had made a whole lot of sense to me, and I’d never trusted anyone enough to ask for explanations.

  I’d gotten too much pity as it was when people learned I’d been a resident of the slammer for my entire life.

  “Right. They have showers in prison, and you probably don’t remember baths from before you were incarcerated. That’s on me. Sorry. Let me introduce you to the wonderful world of bath pampering. You’ll enjoy it. Just don’t drown. I wouldn’t want to explain to my brother how you drowned.”

  “A prisoner drowned once; a pipe had burst in a basement area, and nobody had bothered checking why the building’s water was dribbling. Turns out it flooded that room, and he’d drowned before anyone figured it out.”

  “That sounds horrific.”

  “He was pretty horrific. Maximum security, in for life for some pretty brutal murders. He killed a couple of kids. The guards couldn’t let him mingle with anyone because everybody wanted a round with him. I’d already figured out what my contribution would be.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but I’m going to anyway. What would you have done?”

  “I would’ve shanked him with a painting.”

  “I don’t think you can shank anyone with a painting, Layla.”

  I snorted. “If you hit someone hard enough, anything can become a shank. The canvas frame could break if I failed to use enough blunt force to drive the entire thing into his person. Then I’d use my new shiv to carve a few lessons into him.”

  “Sometimes, I think you’re utterly innocent, but then you inform me that you have considered shanking someone with a painting. Since that wasn’t bad enough, should the canvas frame break, you’d transform your shank into a shiv and use it to carve messages onto another human being. I can’t tell if you’re innocent or possibly the handmaiden of the devil. I’m pretty sure anything blunt doesn’t count as a shank, though. Aren’t shanks typically something sharp?”

  “In my world, as long as the job gets done, it’s a shank. That’s good enough for me. Do handmaidens of the devil get paid?”

  “I like how you view that as a job opportunity.”

  “It seems important. I need to get paid to buy things. Nobody said anything about how I’d work to make the money I need to pay for things. I’m clear now on how money works enough to understand I have to earn money to spend it.” All in all, I was proud of how quickly I’d grasped the concept once someone had explained it to me and taught me that the restaurant employees were paid to bring me food.

  I still wasn’t clear on how tips worked, but Dean had promised they’d be tipped well.

  Xena laughed. “I have no idea if the devil is hiring, I’m afraid. Anyway, when you aren’t contemplating how to murder someone with a blunt object, you seem pretty nice in general. If you need employment, I’m sure Dean would love to have you working for him. You’ll have to rein him in, though. He’ll pay you to be pretty for him. And as he’s a stallion, he’ll pay you to do nothing. You’d be bored out of your mind within a few hours. So, make sure if he’s going to pay you, he gives you meaningful work. Painting is meaningful, but he’d want you to paint things you like. He’d probably even start helping you sell your art if that’s what you like. But be careful of my brother; stallions are tricky.”

  If I ignored her brother, I bet I’d drive him insane. Driving the stallion insane would keep me amused, and I’d happily accept his money while doing it. “I can be a nice person and shank people who deserve it, right? That’s something I can do outside of prison, right?”

  “Self-defense is legal, but you’d definitely want to use an angel to verify you did it out of self-defense.”

  “Should I just ask for an angel every time I get on the wrong side of the law?”

  “While the court would not appreciate the bill for that, it’s not a bad idea. With your luck, it’s a really good idea, actually.”

  “Okay. Have I done anything yet that might land me back in prison?”

  “I like that you automatically assume you’re going to do something that will land you back into prison.”

  “Well, I’ve met myself. I always land back into prison.”

  “Only because you were being used for your artistic ability. That’s not your fault. But I suppose I do need to teach you how to stay out of prison. You aren’t the kind to be happy living in ignorance, are you?”

  “I’ve done that enough already. Can we start with the painting supplies?”

  “Miss painting already?”

  I shrugged. “I’m good at it.”

  “Right. Sure. Let’s go buy you some painting supplies. But first, I’ll show you the wonders of a nice bath. This one is a luxury bath, too. It has jets, and I don’t know a single woman who doesn’t like the jets. Dean called around until he found a hotel with a jet tub, as he thought you’d like to indulge. Of course, he didn’t really anticipate you having no idea what a bath is, but that’s all right. I didn’t anticipate that either. Things will be different now, that much I can promise.”

  “But will they be better?”

  “Yes. You’ll see. Just don’t ask Dean that question. He’ll twist himself into a pretzel trying to prove life is better with him around. And that life is better, period. Actually, ignore me. Ask Dean that question. You deserve a good stallion pampering you, and you’ve passed all of my tests.”

  “I have?”

  “Layla, you shared your first cupcake without anyone suggesting you should. You personify innocence right up until you tell me you want to shank somebody. Then you’re aware o
f the realities of the world without really understanding the world you live in. You could teach angels a thing or two about what it means to be pure in spirit. How they cultivated that in a prison, I don’t know, but I won’t see that ruined. And although my brother can be obnoxious, he will take care of you, assuming you let him. That will be an entirely different problem, but one he’ll be happy to have, so don’t you worry about that. For now, worry about enjoying your bath and think about what art supplies you need to paint what you like.”

  I could do that. I hoped.

  Years of dodging unwanted attention in prison gave me an edge in identifying creeps, but I hadn’t expected two white men in suits to make a run at me while I walked with Xena. To keep men’s filthy mitts off me, I’d learned to act before I thought, and I had jammed my knee in my first assailant’s groin before I registered they were targeting me in the first place.

  As a knee to the groin wouldn’t necessarily keep a man down, I grabbed the nearest object I might use as a weapon.

  I’d never tried to shank somebody with a purse before, but Xena’s had good heft, and I smacked it into the asshole’s head as hard as I could. It took five solid blows to knock him to the concrete.

  “Here. Use this.” Xena held out an empty plastic bottle.

  I ignored her, secured my grip on the straps of her purse, and debated how to beat the second man.

  He dove behind the wheel of a black car, and his groaning accomplice scrambled to catch up, crawling into the back. The vehicle took off with the back door still open. To my disappointment, the battered asshole somehow stayed inside rather than falling out and being tenderized on the asphalt.

  I gave Xena her purse back. “Thank you for loaning me that.”

  “You’re welcome. That was a very effective use of your knee. His friend grabbed his crotch in sympathy. And whimpered. I think you relocated his testicles into his skull with that hit. Was beating him with my purse necessary?”