Kinky Bones

by Al K. Line

  "Call Selma back in. Actually," I said, dread creeping up my spine at the thought, "tell them all to come in. I have a plan."

  "A cunning one?" asked Vicky with a grin.

  "You betcha. I'm The Hat, all my plans are cunning."

  Apart from the ones that go spectacularly wrong, of course.

  Deep Breath

  The women filed back into the kitchen. Or should I say, they babbled and argued and shoved as they all tried to get in first, seemingly so they could all stand around and try to vibe me and Vicky into doing what they wanted. It was unsettling. They had stares better than Vicky, and hers were Olympic standard.

  "Is he going to do it?"

  "What's he waiting for?"

  "Why is the tiny woman glaring at us like that? I don't like it."

  "Ooh, she's good. Is she a witch?"

  "Does he always look like that? Why is he so wrinkled? How old is he?"

  "Quiet!" Man, it was enough to make you do a runner. I would have too, if they weren't all blocking the way. "Look, can you all settle down? We've come to a decision, and we will help. If," I warned, "you agree to let me do this my way. No interfering." Even as I said it, I sighed inwardly, knowing there wasn't a hope in hell of these mad bints staying out of this. I could try, that's all I could do.

  They grumbled and muttered and I began to reconsider. Why didn't I just go tell Ivan and let him have at Mabel? He'd send his people and that would be that. Except it wouldn't. If he attacked first it would be an all-out war between the witches and the vampires. And then the wizards would get involved. However much they steered clear of the women who liked essential oils way too much, and were masters of the evil eye, for obvious reasons as nobody likes being glared at quite so intently, if the vampires began to attack whole sections of the magical community there was no way the wizards would just sit back and watch. They hated witches, but they hated vampires more. Mainly because nobody knew enough about them, and they'd returned to their secretive ways.

  "Is he all right?"

  "What's he doing?"

  "Does he need his tablets?"

  "Arthur, get on with it," said Vicky as she cast a worried glance at me and I came back to the present.

  "Sorry. Feeling tired. For some reason," I gave them a glare as it had become very one-sided, "I didn't get much sleep last night."

  "We said we were sorry," said Selma.

  "Yeah, whatever. We'll do it, but you have to stay out of this. Ivan will go mental on all of you if he thinks the Queen is up to anything, and I'm still tempted to just tell him. But we'll give this one shot, see if you all behave, and if you do then we'll try to keep the vampires out of this. Agreed?"

  "Agreed," they chorused, looking both relieved and apprehensive.

  "What I don't want, and this isn't up for debate, is any more of your stupid games. I don't know what's wrong with you all. Why didn't you just ask me rather than all this pretend hacking business and Selma impersonating everyone?"

  "We thought it was a good plan," muttered Huge Skirt.

  "It wasn't. Damn, I heard witches liked to complicate things, but this is nuts."

  "We needed a plan. We spent ages on it," said Selma.

  "Yeah, well it was crap. This why you wanted me involved, as you couldn't figure out how to get the cauldron without getting caught?"

  "Mabel will know straight away if we take it. She'll come and ask and you can't lie to her. Nobody can. She isn't a bad person, just fed up with us getting no respect. She wants Ivan gone and then we will get some attention."

  "You'd get that, with bells on. From every gangster in the country. From every vampire too. It would be a bloodbath." And it would. Even if they took down Ivan, his council would be all over the witches in a heartbeat. Witches may be adept, but vampires are vampires. They can sneak up on you, looking like the everyman, utterly normal, impossible to recall, entirely forgettable until it's too late and they're sucking the life force out of you, leaving you a husk.

  They didn't do it often, hardly ever took a life, but they were more than capable when provoked. I'd learned that much the hard way. Mabel was on very shaky ground. What the hell was wrong with her?

  "So, I need some information from you all before we proceed. I need details, and I need some time. How long do we have?"

  Before anyone could speak, I felt a familiar tingling just before the room lost its sense of permanence.

  I sighed. Here we go again.

  Not Again

  Sasha appeared in the middle of the room between us and the witches. She looked divine as always, and faery dust drifted down to the tiles languidly as she tucked a perfect golden lock behind her entirely lickable ear.

  I sighed, but accepted it, as what else could I do?

  Sasha beamed at me and Vicky then turned her head a fraction and squinted ever so slightly at the witches. It was still a beautiful expression, and brief, but it conveyed so much that the women gasped. Partly in awe at seeing a faery such as Sasha, partly out of bone-trembling fear. For Sasha was not to be messed with, and I guess everyone in the magical community had heard at least a little of what had gone down previously about a certain insane woman, her son, and the Hangman.

  People talked, and you couldn't stop them, so the rumors had spread and although nobody knew the whole story they were more than happy to make up the parts they were clueless about. It all added to the legend of The Hat, Vicky too, and Sasha had been spoken of in hushed voices, her exploits exaggerated as everyone loved to gossip about the faery that deemed humans worthy of attention.

  Me, I was just annoyed and trying not to show it.

  Sasha wore a green dress so tight it was like a second skin. It clung to curves so perfect it made your eyes bleed, and several witches did actually have to wipe away the blood, others tears of joy and fear. It shed faery dust that sparkled and danced around her feet, her high heels making her calf muscles taut and as perfect as the rest of her legs, the dress so short most of her thighs were in evidence. I had to look away, as daydreams of those thighs wrapped around my back as I... You get the picture.

  "It's you again. Hi, Sasha."

  "Hello, Arthur," Sasha said with a beautiful smile then an extra glare at the witches. "I'm here to protect you. Are these women giving you any trouble? Should I send them to a terrible place within the Nolands to spend an eternity in the presence of one of the terrible beasts that reside there?"

  "Um, no, it's okay. I'm good."

  "Are you sure, my sweet?" Sasha raised an eyebrow and my blood pressure shot through the roof. Goddamn, but she got lovelier by the day. I shook away the mesmerizing effects of her trans-dimensional beauty and focused.

  "You don't need to be here, honestly."

  "Hello, Sasha," said Vicky, practically fawning.

  "How are you, dear Vicky?"

  "Great. We're just dealing with these ladies."

  "Yes, I can see. I don't like the look of them." Sasha turned, whirling fast, faery dust flinging away from her. The witches gasped, awed and terrified in equal measure.

  "It's fine." I tried to remain calm, to not be cross, but it was getting difficult. "Sasha, I'm fine, Vicky's fine, everyone's fine. You don't need to keep doing this."

  "Doing what?"

  I kept my voice low and moved closer, Vicky tagging along like we were about to share secrets. "You don't need to keep popping up to check on me. I told you already, I can handle myself."

  "But you've needed my assistance in the past, and without the lives I bestowed on you you would be dead many times over."

  I glanced up only to see a room full of women craning their necks forward to catch our conversation. They stepped back and suddenly their fingernails become inordinately interesting.

  "I know that," I whispered. "But this is getting out of control. Please stop turning up all the time. I'm a big boy."

  "But it's my job to protect you. I have been remiss in the past, but no longer. I'm here for you, Arthur, my sweet, and I always will
be. We made a promise to each other, and I intend to keep it."

  I groaned inwardly, not showing her my annoyance, but this had to stop. Ever since I'd helped save her from a woman intent on her destruction, Sasha had been turning up on an increasingly regular basis. She'd pop up, bash some heads, or not, as sometimes she said she couldn't interfere, other times she'd be right at it, but most of the time she either came too early or too late.

  She was becoming a liability, and no way could I tell her that. It was enough having Vicky to deal with; last thing I needed was an over zealous faery godmother thinking she owed me and doing her utmost to protect me. She'd get me killed with all her sudden appearances. It was off-putting.

  "I have this handled. We have this handled," I corrected as Vicky jabbed me in the ribs and glared. Damn, way too much glaring for one morning.

  "If you're sure?" Sasha eyed the women again just for good measure.

  "I'm sure. I do appreciate it though, you looking out for me."

  "It's my pleasure. We made a deal, the contract."

  "Yeah, you're a real friend. And I... Hang on, you've never mentioned a contract before. Death said something about that, when he tried to pretend I'd had a heart attack but just wanted company."

  "You've met Death?" asked a witch.

  I turned and scowled. "Stop listening to a private conversation."

  "Be gone," said Sasha as she waved a hand at the awestruck witches. They shrieked as they were shunted backwards out of the room and the door slammed shut behind them. "Ah, that's better." Sasha turned back to me with a sweet smile. Who could stay angry with such a divine creature?

  Sasha was definitely losing the plot. Her attempts to make up for her absence before the events of the summer had got out of hand and now she was interfering with my business.

  "You have to stop this," I said gently.

  "Stop what?"

  "Turning up so often. I was talking to them. They're a bit batty, did some stupid stuff, but I handled it. If you were going to show up then it would have been better if you did it last night when Vicky was a wolf and I was tied to a chair in the attic."

  "Oh, no. I've failed you again. I'm such a bad faery godmother."

  Ugh. Not this. Faery tears are the worst, make you feel so sad and miserable you want to rip your ears off and stuff them up your nose. Don't ask me why, it's just the effect they have.

  "No, no, you're doing great," I said hurriedly. "It's just that I don't want you to keep going to all this trouble. And look, what's this about a contract? I never saw a contract."

  "Nothing to worry about, just standard procedure. I have to go. And sorry." With that, Sasha was gone.

  "She's up to something," I told Vicky.

  "She's a faery. It's Sasha," said Vicky, like that was meant to allay my fears.

  "Exactly. And fae are always up to something. Can you have a word with her? Tell her to stop appearing all the time. It's gonna get us into trouble."

  "No chance. She's Sasha, you don't tell her what to do."

  "Fair enough. It was worth a shot."

  There was a knock at the kitchen door. "Can we come in now?" asked Selma.

  "Yeah, come in," I grumbled. Guess it was time to get this over with.

  Give Me Strength

  "Was that really a faery?" came a voice.

  "Of course it was. Didn't you see the faery dust?"

  "She was so lovely."

  "I can't believe she pushed us out of our own kitchen!"

  "Where does she buy her clothes?"

  "Was that Sasha?"

  "Is that the woman who destroyed the Hangman?" That smarted. Seemed she was getting the credit.

  "Is she the one that Arthur saved from the Hangman?" That was more like it.

  "No, he saved her from her evil twin."

  "No, that's not right. It was her sister."

  "I heard it was another faery that didn't like her being a faery godmother."

  "Well I heard Arthur saved her from her sister because she killed her son."

  "Will you lot shut up! Don't you ever stop talking?"

  This was doing my head in. We had to get out of here, and fast.

  The room was silent, all eyes on The Hat.

  "Thank you. Now, is there anything I need to know?"

  Of all the dumb questions I have ever asked, and I once asked an elf if he thought it was a good idea to have short hair because it made his ears look big and that did not go down well, this was undoubtedly the most idiotic by a huge margin.

  Three hours later, with my stomach swishing with coffee, my head all mushy from being talked to by a coven of excited witches, plus Vicky who kept butting in to ask for clarification and seemed to enjoy the company of these mad women, I said goodbye once more to the women standing at the threshold then sighed as the door closed and we walked down a short front garden onto a quiet suburban street close to the city center.

  "That was the worst morning of my entire life."

  "Even worse than the time you fell over in the mud as I shifted back. Do you remember? You got your nose stuck right up my—"

  "Yeah, I remember. And this was worse. Just."

  "I thought they were nice."

  "What are you so bloody chirpy about? You forgot what they did to us? How stressed out you were? That they just held us captive and now we've somehow agreed to help them even after what they did? They've got one over on us." I felt well and truly played. I wasn't sure how they'd done it, or even exactly when, but I got the feeling this was all an elaborate set-up they'd planned in minute detail right from the get-go.

  If I didn't know better, and honestly I didn't, I could swear that every single thing that had happened had been orchestrated. They knew what they were doing, all right. This was how they operated. They were masters of manipulation, and I was well and truly outclassed. That, or they were as daft as they seemed.

  "And you're only just realizing that?" asked Vicky, squinting up at me.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's obvious. They had it all planned. I bet those women you killed were ones they didn't trust so they used them as part of the plan. Bet they wanted them dead and so got them to kidnap us and then they could all be shocked and we'd feel bad and then they'd explain and act all daft and lost and we'd agree to help."

  "You think?" I scratched at my beard; I needed a shave and a big sleep in a deep hole.

  "You're pretty dumb for a wizard, aren't you?"

  "I think you're right. Ugh, where are we? I need to get home."

  "Home? But we have to go get the cauldron."

  "Vicky, my simple, size-challenged dimwit sidekick, there is much to do before we try to steal the prize possession of the most powerful witch in the whole country. We have to plan, we have to pack equipment, and we have to ready ourselves for what's to come."

  Vicky stood on tiptoe and stared hard into my eyes. "You just want to go home and sit on your arse, don't you?"

  "No, I want to lie down in a very dark room where there are no women. Unless said women are naked and have big boobs."

  "I told you, and we agreed, we aren't suited for each other. Sorry."

  "Not you, you muppet. And I said big boobs, not pancakes with tiny cherries on top."

  "Arthur, that is so mean. They aren't that small." Vicky grabbed a breast in each hand and squeezed.

  I gulped, despite myself. Ugh, I hated being a fickle man at times.

  "They aren't, are they? What's wrong with them?"

  "Nothing. They're ah, lovely. Perfect." They were too, even tasted nice.

  "You think so?" Vicky gave them an extra squeeze and then a wiggle from side to side for good measure. Memories of us naked and her bouncing around on top rushed to my mind. I coughed then said, "Let's go. And yes, they are truly lovely boobs."

  Vicky grinned and finally released what has been many a man's downfall. I glanced around, saw the curtains twitch at the witches' house, and sulked. They must think we're utterly mad.

 
I marched down the street with Vicky jogging to catch up. I needed to hang around with more men. How was I supposed to focus with images of bouncing boobies pushing away my sinister plotting?

  Some Down Time

  We returned to Vicky's home, an oasis of calm after the chaos of a witch-infested den. The girls were in school, Ivan and his aide were nowhere to be seen, a note on the kitchen counter stating he'd pick them up and bring them home unless he heard otherwise, so it was just me and Vicky.

  "Shower?" she asked.

  "Okay, but only because there will be soap," I agreed with a wink.

  "Not together, you muppet. I meant do you want one? I feel so gross."

  "Yeah, thanks."

  Vicky studied me with scary intensity, and she was on tip-toe so I knew it was serious. I felt like a butterfly pinned to a board, not that I let her know.

  "Would you?" she asked.

  "Would I what?"

  "You know, have a shower with me?" Vicky's cheeks blushed a little but she held my gaze and things got sweat-inducingly uncomfortable.

  "You remember what happened last time?"

  "I do. It was nice and all, but it felt wrong too."

  "Exactly."

  "But you didn't answer my question."

  I tried to think about it, but visions of Vicky clutching her chest in the street, not to mention memories of us naked in her bedroom, stopped much in the way of thought. I decided to be honest, and give a truthful insight into the pathetic mind of men.

  "Vicky, it could have been the worst sex in the world, which it certainly wasn't, but if you stripped naked right now and began er, doing anything at all, then I would agree to pretty much anything you wanted. If we were in the shower together, all soapy and naked, which we should be if we were in the shower, then I most certainly would not say no. But don't take it personally," I added. "If sex is offered, it's nigh on impossible to resist. It's hardwired. I could have the flu, I could be on death's door, I could be in the middle of an epic battle, hell, be having my leg amputated, but if a woman bounced her boobs or wobbled her bottom I'd go along with whatever she had in mind. It's the same for all men. It's why we're idiots sometimes, and why we're distracted most of the time."