Fur Magic Boxed Set: Talisman, Sage, Fawn, Lola: Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by Colleen Charles

  My mind ran through the facts. I glanced back at the door.

  Talisman, there’s a witch on the loose out here. Sage’s thought was urgent.

  Follow her! I’ll be out in a second. I turned back to my gorgeous woman and met her bewildered gaze. Lola, I need you to get help for Penelope. Run to Dr. Collier. Get him or anyone else. Can you manage that?

  You got it, Talisman. I won’t let you down this time.

  That’s my girl. I’ve got a witch to hunt. Excuse the pun. I gave Lola a lick on the nose, then sprinted past Penelope, who now had another helper. Amelia sat on the floor with Penelope’s head in her lap, checking her pulse and swallowing reflexively.

  “Hang on, Penelope, I’m right here. Oh no, oh no,” she said, repeating it under her breath, as she swayed even as I sprinted past and made for the door.

  She was obviously in a quandary. She could hardly go ahead and call the police. How would she explain the slab, the magical implements, the massive book of spells? Penelope would be outed once and for all.

  No, there was only one man to turn to and he was about to get the shock of his life.

  Are you coming?

  Keep your feathers on. Of course, I’m coming.

  So is Christmas. Bianca’s getting away. Sage’s thought was distant. He was further away, which meant he’d followed my instructions and was tailing her.

  I scampered down the stairs and straight out the back door. Gravel and dirt spat up in my wake, clouds of dust rising beneath the fury pads of my paws. I wasn’t about to let this murdering witch get away with… well, murder.

  I sprinted for the woods, slipping through a massive hole in the fence and dodging thorny bushes and hopping over low-lying rocks. My keen eyes picked out the obstacles and my nose rose to the scent.

  Sage swooped down from above and hooted overhead. About time!

  Lola was down for the count, thanks to your favorite sociopath. She’s up now and headed to fetch Dr. Luke.

  You really think that’s the best idea?

  It’s that or the cops, feather duster. Which would you prefer? An owner with an alarmed potential lover, or one who’s hunted because she’s the world’s answer to Sabrina?

  I quickened my pace, sniffing out Bianca’s horrid perfume.

  She probably wore Gloria Vanderbilt perfume. Yack. I had a sensitive nose for perfumes. Fashion and clothes I didn’t get, but smells? Oh yeah, smells were important. Nothing better than the smell of cream and kibble. Or coffee grounds. Or Lola’s oh so pert…

  Keep it PG 13, please. Nobody likes to hear about eau de cat.

  As opposed to your bird seed odor?

  Focus, Talisman.

  He was right on that account. Bianca was close. I could just make out the crash of feet on leaves, the curses as she bumped into trees and branches. Served her right.

  We swept into the darkened woods, gaining our advantage.

  What’s the plan? Bianca might not be able to understand our verbal communication, but she’d still hear it coming. Sage hadn’t witnessed the almost murder scene so he still had his wits about him. He could come up with a strategy.

  Isn’t it obvious? We peck and scratch her into submission. Anything to delay her. Then we’ve got to detain one of the other witches. The same treatment we gave Stout. It was enough to get him to turn tail and run.

  Yeah, but Stout’s a dipshit lawyer. He doesn’t have any otherworldly powers. Like the witchy witcherton we’re following.

  I’m not saying it’s a flawless plan. Sage thought, haughtily. But I’m open to suggestions, Mr. Wise Cat.

  I didn’t have any suggestions, so I kept my doubts to myself. We ran, driven by anger at what Bianca had tried to do to Penelope. Our Penelope, who cared for us, fed us and loved us, even when some of us happened to cough up fur balls on her favorite pair of shoes.

  Sage split from me and took to the canopy.

  I hopped between trees, sniffing out the witch.

  There. She’s down here, Sage.

  On it.

  I rounded a tree and stared at Bianca. She was limping now, probably banged her knee against something in the dark, and she had her palm flat against her chest. Whatever spell Penelope had cast, it was probably the only bad one she’d ever known. No one up until now had ever been brave enough to get into it with the Chokecherrys.

  I cast my thoughts back to the Book of Shadows and wracked my brain for an answer. The only negative spell in that book, the only negative spell any DeLacroix had ever owned, was defensive.

  A stunning spell! Sage, she should be slower than usual because of Penelope’s casting of the stunning spell. I’m surprised she hasn’t stiffened like a discount store mannequin.

  Granted, Penelope’s spells hadn’t exactly worked out of late, but that was probably why Bianca hadn’t fainted.

  Chokecherry gripped a nearby tree, digging her fingers into the bark.

  The world was colored grey at night for me, I could pick out everything in stark detail. Including the hulking figure in the cloak, creeping toward Bianca from behind.

  Who the hell is that? Sage asked, alarmed.

  No idea. But the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Right?

  Fine. But Elias Stout is an exception.

  He’s the exception to every rule, that one. I crept forward, keeping myself low, so the new guy wouldn’t notice me.

  Except the new guy wasn’t fooled. The shrouded figure turned its head and glanced at me. The circle of the hood revealed a face.

  Dagda Cerridwyn.

  It’s okay, it’s Dagda. I sent to Sage, immediately.

  What, the old crone?

  Probably best to avoid name calling, even in our thoughts. I think Dagda’s about to save our butts, and Penelope’s too.

  Indeed, Dagda crept up on Bianca. She laid a hand on the evil witch’s shoulder and dug her fingers in.

  Attack! Sage called.

  We converged on Bianca Chokecherry with everything we had. Claws extended, talons out. Dagda Cerridwyn knocked her on the head with a broomstick. A mini-broomstick, what a cliché.

  Bianca yelped and gripped the top of her head, trying to shield herself from our attacks.

  I clawed her knee and she went down, grabbing it.

  “What the hell?”

  “Stop,” Dagda said, to Sage and me. We followed her orders.

  “Who the hell are you?” Bianca squeaked, quaking in the aftermath of our attack. Damn straight. She’d better quake. An eight on the Richter scale.

  Dagda took her hood off and revealed her wrinkled skin and that wart on her nose. I turned away. The woman could have been a case on the E! Network’s Botched.

  Bianca’s expression contorted from fear to sick fascination.

  “I am Dagda Cerridwyn.”

  Bianca was a silent for a while. Finally, she opened her mouth and said, “Who?”

  Chapter 14

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dagda croaked. “I came all the way out here for this?” She brought the end of the broomstick down on top of Bianca’s head. A resounding crack followed and Dagda cursed under her breath. She’d managed to break the end of her broomstick in two.

  That’s going to leave a mark. I couldn’t help the mirth which twisted inside me. I was worried about Penelope, worried sick actually, but Dagda was a force to be reckoned with. An amusing force. A butt ugly force. But a savior nonetheless.

  We could create a theoretical equation. The strength of a broomstick is equal to and no greater than the force applied added to the density of the top of Bianca’s cranium.

  That might be the best joke you’ve ever told me. I licked my lips and stifled a chuckle.

  Bianca gripped her head between her palms and groaned. “Okay, lady, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.” Her warning was delivered in a low whine of pain.

  “No, sweet cheeks, you’ve got no idea. That’s what’s so shocking. What do they teach young witches nowadays? Does history mean nothing? Defer to you
r elders whippersnapper!” Dagda waggled the broken end of the broomstick, then tossed it aside. It clattered against the trunk of a tree and fell to the ground.

  “You’re a witch,” Bianca hissed, sitting a little straighter. “Perhaps you can help me. I’m running from an evil witch named Penelope DeLacroix. I just managed to escape by the skin of my teeth. She’s back there in my mansion. Surely, you can cast a spell on her and stop her before she gets away with her wicked mission?”

  “Your mansion?” Dagda asked, folding her arms and tapping her foot. She obviously had hip problems, because the tap was more of a patter.

  “Yes, it’s right up the hill.” Bianca pointed, without the foggiest idea that she’d just dug her already deep grave, ten feet deeper.

  “I think you mean Arwen Silverchime’s mansion,” Dagda replied, coolly.

  Bianca’s eyes widened in the dark and she let go of her head. “All right, who are you? How do you know Arwen Silverchime?”

  “Dagda Cerridwyn. For heaven’s sakes. I said that already. And I’m here to stop you, not help you, wretched Chokecherry. You’re coming with me.” Dagda reached down and grabbed Bianca by the elbow.

  She dragged Bianca to her feet and marched her forward a few steps. She was pretty strong for an old lady. I just stood back and admired the fireworks. Bianca’s eyes flashing daggers, her chest rising and falling with her angry breaths.

  I stepped out of the darkness and joined her. Sage landed beside me.

  Where are you going to take her? I had to ask Dagda the question and hoped she’d take pity on her unlikely sidekick and let me and Sage in on the gag.

  The ancient witch met my gaze. “Back to my place first. For cauldron and chill.”

  Bianca gasped.

  “I’m kidding, relax,” she said with a wrinkly smile. Who knew the old bat had a sarcastic sense of humor underneath the miles of gray skin. “You wicked witches never have a good sense of humor. I don’t know why I bother.” Dagda wiggled her by the arm and Bianca jerked around, still in her semi-dazed state. The spell and the broomstick bashing had served to turn her into a marionette without the strings.

  That’s a doll. Sage put in. Not unlike the white furry one whose butt you sniff.

  Huh?

  A marionette without strings.

  Seriously?

  Dagda turned back to me. “I’m taking her to the council. She must go before them and be tried for her crimes. Depending on their decision, she’ll be stripped of her magic or banished from Shadowcreek for good. Or both. I will testify. And so will you, feline.”

  She pointed a craggy finger at me.

  That’s the best news I’ve had in years.

  I sat down. Relief rushed through my chest. Now I could focus on Penelope’s health and safety. Hopefully, Lola had completed her task and Penelope was already okay.

  “Are you seriously talking to a cat, right now?” Bianca asked, shaking her head. “And thinking he’s going to answer you? You’re a psycho.”

  “Just you wait till I get my hands on that Grandmother of yours. Then we’ll see who’s a psycho,” Dagda replied. “Come on you, let’s go. You’ve got a trial to attend to. Prison orange will exactly match the shade of your Nice & Easy hairdo.”

  “I don’t think so.” Damien stepped from beneath the trees, tall, meaty, everything that would probably stop Dagda Cerridwyn.

  Dagda cackled.

  Was that confidence or arrogance?

  “And you think you can stop me, beef wagon?” Dagda asked.

  Beef wagon, that’s a good one. I call dibs on that, I sent to Sage. I frowned and glanced left. Sage was gone. You hear me, Sage?

  Uh, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now. His thoughts had that tinge of fear. Sage’s fear was special. It was iron strong and rough around the edges.

  I looked over at Damien and my insides went squiggly.

  Damien had his grimy hands around Sage’s body. He started to squeeze, his eyes resting on Dagda’s face. “You’re next.”

  “Let go of the majestic bird, you cretin. If you know what’s good for you. But then again, I’ve heard things. Things about the level of your intelligence. Low levels,” she taunted as she made a clucking noise with her tongue.

  Help him! I yelled at Dagda. Help Sage before Damien turns him into owl jelly.

  Thank you for that wonderful image, Talisman. I can always rely on you to make me feel better about my current situation.

  I’m coming, Sage!

  Maybe I could at least slow down the impending avian execution with a little bit of the Stout treatment.

  “Don’t bother,” Dagda said.

  I didn’t heed her advice this time. I scrambled across the forest floor and pounced. I dug my claws into Damien Chokecherry’s muscly forearm and dragged him down. He yelped and let go of Sage with one hand, but he didn’t release him fully.

  Peck him! Help a cat out here.

  Sage made his best attempt at attacking Damien’s flesh, but it was no use. The man was too strong, and Sage’s time had almost run out.

  It was an honor, Talisman. An honor.

  No!

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Dagda said, then sighed. “Enough with the dramatics. It’s like the circus, with smaller elephants.” She pointed her finger at Damien.

  He froze, wide-eyed, then took two steps back, gasping for air. He clawed at his throat and looked around.

  “What did you do?” Bianca yelled. “What did you do to my brother?”

  “Everyone needs to take a Valium. I just knocked the air from his lungs and it isn’t permanent. Relax, it will go away in a second,” Dagda replied, then turned a heated gaze on Damien, “but only if he gets far enough away from the owl. I’m kind of becoming attached to that birdbrain.”

  Damien dropped Sage, who landed with a fa-lump on a pile of dirt and leaves. He thrashed around, getting his bearings.

  “What?” Bianca echoed.

  Damien simply pointed at his throat and choked.

  “That’s right,” Dagda said, and cackled again. “I didn’t put a spell on him. I put a protection spell on the bird. He comes near the owl and he won’t be able to breathe properly. He’ll get just enough oxygen to stay alive, but will constantly feel like he’s choking to death. It’s kind of like a restraining order. For douche bags.”

  How do you know about restraining orders? Aren’t you ancient? I asked, while hurrying over to check on Sage.

  “I might be old, but I manage to keep in touch with the laws of my country, thank you very much,” Dagda replied, waggling her magic finger at me in reprimand.

  The owl straightened and ruffled his feathers, then turned to Damien. I think I’m going to follow him around from now on.

  Damien had heard it all, at least the human spoken bits of it. He looked from Dagda to the Sage, and paled. Maybe he saw the wicked intent in the owl’s eyes.

  “And so, the hunter shall become the hunted,” Dagda said, with a grand sweeping gesture.

  Damien had had enough, he turned and trotted off into the woods.

  I batted Sage lightly on the wing. Go get ‘em tiger.

  You may call me, raptor.

  Like the dinosaur?

  No, like the bird of prey.

  And with that, Sage took off and flew after Damien, giving a joyous hoot of revenge.

  Chapter 15

  I bounded through the back door of the Chokecherry mansion and up the stairs. Whatever magic Bianca had implemented had faded slightly, but it was still there, and I got the feeling it would stay. Not because it was her magic, but because it belong to Lucinda.

  The woman had filled the mansion with hatred and that was the kind of negative cloak that stuck.

  I hurried down the hall and into the room at the end.

  Penelope was still there, lying on the floor, and Amelia sat with Pen’s head in her lap, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face.

  She looked up at me and gasped. Then the tension
released from her shoulders. “Oh, Talisman, it’s just you.” She trembled and clung to Penelope.

  Clearly, Amelia didn’t know what to do or where to get help. The lines around her wrists and arms spoke of being bound for more than just a couple hours. Bianca had probably tied her to the table the minute they’d gotten her back to the house.

  “I don’t know what to do, she’s not waking up.” Amelia rocked her back and forth, then tapped her on the face. “Penelope, wake up!”

  Penelope groaned and her eyelids flickered. “Who –?”

  “Penelope, it’s me, you’re safe.”

  Safe was a relative term, in this instance. But relief flooded me anyway. Penelope was alive. That stunning spell stunt she’d pulled hadn’t killed her.

  I padded over to her and gave her a lick on the nose, then paused.

  No, she wasn’t dead, but she was too weak to move. Penelope was on the precipice. Not really dead but not alive either. Darkness yawned before her and if she took one step too far, she’d fall over the edge and I’d never be able to reach her again.

  “Can you hear me?” Amelia asked, stroking the hair back from Pen’s forehead. “You were so brave, Pen, you –”

  “Penelope!” Dr. Luke burst into the room with Lola in tow.

  That’s my girl!

  He was already on the way here when I ran into him. I just herded him around the back. Lola thought. She hurried over to me and rubbed against my side, purring softly. I nuzzled her silky fur. Just touching her made me feel more centered than I had all day.

  Penelope was in danger of falling into the abyss and the only man who could stop it had just entered the room, lips pressed into a thin line when they should have been full and lush. Ripe for kissing. In order to get all of us the hell out of this sordid mess.

  Dr. Luke pulled up short and stared at Penelope on the floor. He went white as a sheet, then rushed over and dropped to his knees. He took Penelope from Amelia, and stared into her face.

  “What happened?” he asked, glancing at Amelia, and touching the backs of his fingers to Pen’s cheek.