Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series

by Livia J. Washburn

  I hadn’t noticed that my stammer was gone. The only explanation was that the enormous power of the talisman had driven out the last vestiges of the spell placed on me by the witches’ council all those years ago. I knew the spell to keep me from singing had weakened over the years and finally disappeared. That theory made as much sense as anything, so I was willing to accept it unless and until I found out anything different.

  “That bird has amazing power. Will you help us, Mr. Flynn?” I asked.

  He frowned. “You won’t try to steal the falcon?”

  “I give you my word,” I promised him.

  “Same here,” Donovan added.

  Foster looked down at Cearul with an expression of great fondness. “I always knew there was somethin’ special about this critter,” he said. “I can’t figure out why it never acted like it is now when I touched it before. Maybe it had to sorta be, I dunno, woke up good before it really worked, and me and my friends done that when we got together at the Hocus Pocus.”

  Again, that explanation made sense, so I was willing to accept it. All I really cared about right now was Foster’s answer, and we were still waiting for it.

  He looked up again and said, “All right, I’ll do it. You can use the talisman. But I want the whole story. How do we go about it?”

  “We can explain all that on the way back to Las Vegas,” Donovan said. “That’s where the book is with the spell we need to use.”

  Foster looked a little doubtful. “That’s mighty big magic to be doin’ right there in the middle of town,” he said. “It’s liable to draw a lot of attention.”

  “How about the penthouse garden?” Malcolm suggested.

  Donovan said, “There are a lot of taller buildings around there. People could still see.”

  Malcolm shrugged. “And they would probably just think it was a light show or something like that. Remember…this is Vegas you’re talking about. The only things people really notice are the ones that aren’t big and splashy and gaudy.”

  He had a point there, I thought.

  “Let’s do it,” I said. “Let’s go back to Vegas.”

  Chapter 23

  Foster’s old station wagon was parked inside one of the storage sheds, just like Malcolm had speculated. Malcolm drove the Jeep while Donovan and I crowded into the station wagon’s front seat with Foster. He still didn’t want to let go of the falcon, so Donovan drove. I used the time to fill Foster in on most of the details of what had happened over the past few weeks.

  As Malcolm had said, it was a weird story. While I was telling it, it almost seemed like it had happened to somebody else, not to me.

  When I was finished, Foster said, “Sounds like you been mighty busy lately, Miss McAllister. If things ever get back to normal for you, you’re likely to be bored.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think I’d mind being bored for a little while.” I glanced over at Donovan and added, “I don’t think things will ever go back to being like they were before, though.”

  He smiled without taking his eyes off the Jeep as he followed it. I think he knew what I was talking about. I hoped he did, anyway.

  Once again the drive got to me. I felt myself getting sleepy and tried to fight it, but I dozed off. When I woke up, I was a lot more comfortable than I had been the last time, and after a second I realized that was because I was leaning against Donovan’s shoulder. I stayed where I was for a few minutes, just to enjoy the feeling.

  Finally, though, I sat up and yawned. Donovan said, “You ought to be catching up on your sleep by now.”

  “Yes, but you haven’t. You’ve been awake for more than twenty-four hours.”

  “I’ll be all right for a while yet,” he said. “Foster’s conked out, too.”

  I looked over at him and saw that Donovan was right. Foster was sound asleep, snoring softly as his head lay back against the station wagon’s bench seat. He still had hold of the talisman, but it rested loosely in his hands as they lay in his lap. I could have taken it away from him then if I’d wanted to.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Donovan said. “The same thought crossed my mind when I realized he was sound asleep. But somehow I can’t bring myself to double-cross the old guy.”

  “Neither can I,” I said. “And I’m glad you feel the same way.”

  “I’m glad we seem to feel the same way about a lot of things now,” he said quietly.

  I linked my arm with his and leaned against him again. There had been some dramatic moments along the way, but no real instant of revelation, no epiphany when I realized that I loved Donovan Cole after all, no matter what had happened in the past. My true feelings had been there all along, I thought. I just needed to open my eyes and see them for what they really were.

  It was afternoon before we reached Las Vegas. Donovan and I were anxious to carry out the ritual that we hoped would restore our loved ones to us, but we were also filthy and starving. As we got out of the vehicles, Malcolm suggested, “Let’s all go up to the penthouse. I’ll have some food sent up, and we can clean up while we’re waiting for it.”

  “I have to get the book,” Donovan said.

  “Your ancestor’s book,” I told Malcolm.

  He asked, “How do you know we’re descended from this old wizard?”

  “He wasn’t a wizard. He was a warlock. You know there’s a difference. And I know Eamon was your ancestor because…well, you look just like him.”

  That was one thing I hadn’t told Malcolm so far. He frowned in surprise and said, “I do?”

  “Well…pretty much. He had a beard and he was dressed completely different, of course. And he had a sword instead of a, what is it, a Colt .45 automatic. But other than that…”

  “How about that,” he said with a grin. “I didn’t get the magic, but I got the looks.”

  He was handsome, all right. And I was sure by now that he was a good man, too, no matter what sort of shady reputation he had. The attraction I had felt toward him had been real, and if things had been different there was no telling what might have happened between us.

  But I was in love with Donovan and that wasn’t going to change. It was probably too soon to say that Malcolm and I would be friends – I had known him less than a day – but I felt like there was a good chance of that. I hoped it would work out that way.

  I went with Donovan to our room to get Eamon’s book. Now that we were so close to our goal, I didn’t want anything to happen to ruin it. As we let ourselves into the room, I worried that the book might be gone. I knew it wasn’t really a reasonable fear…but a lot of bad things had happened recently that weren’t all that reasonable.

  But everything was fine. The book was there in one of Donovan’s bags, undisturbed. Relieved, we took it upstairs to the penthouse, using a key Malcolm had given us to access that level. We brought along a change of clothes for each of us, as well.

  “I’ve ordered plenty of food,” Malcolm told us. “And the hot water is running in the tub in the master bath for you, Aren. Donovan, you’re welcome to use the shower in the other bathroom.”

  “I’m sure not all your guests get treated so well,” I said.

  “Not all of my guests are witches and warlocks.”

  He had a point there, I supposed. And the thought of sinking down in a nice deep tub full of hot water was very appealing just then.

  When I did just that a few minutes later, it felt even better than it sounded. The master bathroom was as luxurious as you’d expect, and the tub threatened to swallow me up. I just lay there for the longest time, letting the hot water soak the aches, pains, and tension out of me. My muscles were so limp I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to get out of there. I might have to just live the rest of my life in this tub, I thought.

  But eventually my responsibilities began to creep back into my brain. My father was lost because of me, and I was his only chance of getting back home safely. With that thought to goad me into moving, albeit somewhat reluctantly, I got out of the
tub, dried off, and got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. My sandals were a little worse for wear from running around in the mine, but they were what I had. You can’t bring a closet of shoes in a carry on bag. A quick brush through my hair and I felt like I was presentable.

  The others were already in the dining room, sitting around a table full of food. Foster had the talisman on the table beside him where he could get to it easily. I wasn’t sure if he would ever allow it to leave his side again.

  “Sit down,” Malcolm invited. “If you want anything else, let me know and I’ll have it sent up.”

  “This spread looks fine to me,” I said. It was a buffet that would have fed a dozen people, I thought, and there was everything from sushi to fried chicken.

  I took a little of everything until my plate was full. I eyed the desserts, sliced chocolate cake with a fudge icing and some kind of pie, thinking I’d need to stop before I was too full for a slice of one of those. I knew I was hungry, but I hadn’t realized I was ravenous until I sat down and started to eat.

  While we were passing around platters of food, I asked, “What do you think will happen to Arkady and his men when they find themselves back in Russia?”

  “Well, since he left there because there were too many people on that side of the world who wanted him dead, I don’t think he’ll be too happy about it,” Malcolm said.

  Foster said, “Whatever he gets, he had it comin’. Just when the good ol’ American mob wasn’t runnin’ everything in Vegas any more, those dang Russians come in and tried to take over. They’ve caused a lot of trouble the past few years.”

  “Won’t somebody just take Arkady’s place?” Donovan asked.

  “More than likely,” Malcolm said, “but it’ll take them a while to consolidate their power, and in the meantime maybe some of the bunch will kill each other off fighting over it. Anything that weakens the mob’s grip is good in the long run for the honest dealers in town.”

  The cake was as good as it looked. I’d just taken my last bite when Donovan brought out the book and showed it to Malcolm and Foster. “That’s it?” Malcolm said. “The book written by my ancestor?”

  “That’s it,” Donovan told him.

  “How did your mother get hold of it?”

  Donovan made a face and said, “Knowing my mother, probably by some underhanded means. I’m sure she heard rumors about it and decided that she wanted it, and when she wants something she tends to go after it, no matter what it takes.” He nodded toward the falcon, which was back in Foster’s hands. “She wanted to find that talisman, too, and if she ever had…”

  “Now hold on here,” Foster said with a frown. “If the lady’s got her heart set on gettin’ this bird, maybe it ain’t such a good idea to bring her back.”

  Donovan shook his head and said, “She won’t bother you. I’ll see to that. And there’s something else.” He held the book out to Malcolm. “By all rights, this belongs to you, too.”

  Malcolm didn’t take the book. “You need it to free those people who are trapped over there in that other realm.”

  “But when we’ve done that…it’s yours.”

  “Well…thank you.” Malcolm reached out and rested his hand on the book’s leather cover.

  I halfway expected a flash of light or some other mystical display. I thought maybe Eamon himself would reappear. Maybe he would come back and possess Malcolm.

  What happened was that Malcolm rubbed his fingertips over the leather and said, “Nice.”

  I looked outside and was surprised to see that the light was fading from the sky. Dusk was settling down over Las Vegas again. I said, “We should get started.”

  “You’re right,” Donovan said.

  Malcolm said, “Come on out to the garden.”

  With Donovan carrying the book and Foster holding the talisman, we went out into the rooftop garden. The sky was beautiful, a rich blend of red and gold in the west fading to a deep blue in the east. The air was still hot, but an evening breeze had sprung up, bringing a hint of coolness with it. The three of us gathered in front of a bed of cactus roses. Donovan opened the book to the page where the spell had been lettered carefully by Eamon all those centuries ago.

  Malcolm’s cell phone rang.

  He muttered something about this not being a very good time, but he glanced at the display anyway and announced, “It’s the police. They’re probably looking for me because I didn’t come in today and give them a statement like I promised.” He waved a hand at us as he backed toward the door into the penthouse. “You three go ahead. I’ll be right back.”

  I didn’t like this. It seemed somehow as if Malcolm should be here when we cast the spell, even though he didn’t have any powers. We had already waited longer than I’d intended to, though, so I nodded to Donovan and Foster and said, “We should all touch the talisman.”

  I had gotten used to the low level hum of energy coming off the falcon, I suppose, because I could certainly hear and even feel the increase in it as Donovan and I reached out and rested our fingers against Cearul’s feathers. The green glow around the talisman began to brighten again.

  Donovan and I hadn’t really had a chance to study the spell after we’d translated it, but with our energies linked together and bolstered by Foster’s power as well, the words in the book were suddenly perfectly clear to me. I began to intone them, speaking in Middle Irish as if I had been born to the language. Donovan joined in just as fluently. Foster struggled a bit with some of the words because he wasn’t as familiar with them as we were, but he tried gamely.

  And it must have worked, because the wind began to swirl and blow harder, and the green light spread out until it covered nearly the entire garden and shadows gathered within it and began to spin and coalesce and…and…

  An opening started to form.

  Excitement made my voice rise when I saw it, but I forced myself to remain calm and continue chanting the words of the spell. That was a portal forming, I just knew it, an opening into the realm of the witches’ council through which my father and Sharon Cole and Angela Vandermeer could come back into their own world. A worry leaped into my mind. I had no idea how big that other realm was, and what if the portal formed at some place where the three people trapped there didn’t happen to be?

  But it wouldn’t happen that way, I told myself. The mystic energy driving this spell was all directed toward rescuing those castaways, so the portal couldn’t form anywhere else.

  I focused all my concentration on the opening as it became firmer and more distinct. My heart pounded harder and harder as I saw three vague figures through the green haze. They were coming closer, closer, and there was something familiar about them, especially one. I wanted to reach out to them, wanted to cry, “Dad!”, but I kept chanting, not wanting anything to disrupt the delicate balance we had struck that was opening the path between realms.

  One of the figures was limping. The largest of the three helped the smaller figure approach the portal. As they came closer, I made out their features and again my heart seemed ready to leap out of my chest. My father looked worn and haggard, but he was alive! He had hold of Sharon’s arm and was supporting her as she came toward the opening. Another figure that had to be Angela was behind them.

  The portal was more than six feet tall now and several feet wide, an oval shape plenty big enough to let them through. Gasping, Sharon stepped across from that realm to this one. I could tell Donovan wanted to reach out to her, but like me he remained where he was, devoting all his efforts to keeping the portal open. Even after all three of them were rescued, we needed to keep chanting in order to destroy as much of the barrier between the realms as we could. It wasn’t just a matter of saving my father and Sharon and Angela. The balance of the universe needed to be restored, and in order for that to happen, the realms couldn’t be cut off from each other. We had to reverse my original spell permanently and completely.

  My father was at the portal, but he stopped and turned back. I wanted to
scream No! He held out his hand to the third figure. He wanted to help Angela through before he came home himself. That didn’t surprise me, but I wished for once that he hadn’t been such a gentleman. I wanted my dad back, safe and sound.

  The third figure didn’t need any help. She lunged forward, past my father, and leaped through the portal. It was Angela, all right, but I saw now that she had changed even more than my dad and Sharon had. She had been beautiful once – maybe technically speaking she still was – but the light of utter madness burned in her eyes and transformed her into a merciless harpy. She sprang at me with her hands hooked into claws. Deadly fire shot from her fingertips.

  Donovan dropped the book, took his hand off the talisman, and leaped at Angela to intercept her. She backhanded him and sent him flying, but he crashed into me and knocked me off my feet, too. As we landed, I would have sworn I heard a gun roar.

  I must have, because Angela rocked back with blood flying from her left arm as a slug tore through it.

  At the same time, the portal began to shrink…with my father still on the other side of it. “Dad!” I cried. Another shot went off. I twisted my head around to see Malcolm wrestling with a man in the doorway to the penthouse. All I had to do was catch a glimpse of him to know that he was the same man who had tried to kill me those other times.

  Even though I wasn’t touching the talisman anymore, I could still feel the emerald energy surging through me. I remembered how my parents had told me about the day I accidentally tore a hole in the fabric of the universe. I had power, plenty of power of my own. And when Angela rolled over and started to get up despite her wound, I slammed her back to the rooftop with a motion of my hand and snarled, “Stay there.”

  Then I came up on my knees and reached for the portal, calling, “Dad!”

  He was fading from sight as the portal tried to close. But he was able to extend his hand through the opening, and my hand closed around it. I gritted my teeth and pulled, falling backward.