Big Beautiful Witches: I Married A Warlock (8 page)

Manfred, the tuxedoed butler who’d worked for her family for ages and who never cracked a smile, ushered her in.

As she headed to the dining room, she could hear her sister’s voice raised in protest. “I can’t eat another bite, mother. I really can’t.”

Her mother was urging Delphine to eat? That couldn’t be right.  

She walked into the dining room. Her father sat at the end of the massive dining table, in his usual pose; reading a newspaper, sipping his brandy, and completely ignoring his family.

A white embroidered table runner ran down the center of the mahogany table, which was set with plates of porcelain hand painted in gold.

Delphine sat miserably stirring a bowl of stew.   She did indeed look poorly; her normally rosy complexion was pale and sallow, she had circles under her eyes and Fiona thought it appeared as if she’d lost considerable weight; her clothes were draping loosely on her.

“One more bite,” her mother urged.

“Mother. Delphine. How are you?”

Her mother started when Fiona walked in; Delphine managed a tired smile. “You came, Fiona! Thank you! I feel awful.”

Desdemona’s gaze swiveled between the two of them, and Fiona’s hackles rose instinctively. Her mother was up to something.

Her father glanced up at her. “Fiona. Hello,” he said absentmindedly, and went back to his reading.

“Fiona, whatever are you doing here? You can’t simply drop by unannounced.” Her mother’s tone was querulous.

“Since when?” Fiona raised an eyebrow.

“Since…since you moved out and refuse to consider any decent marriage proposals, that’s when.” Desdemona pushed back her chair and stood up.

“I haven’t received any decent marriage proposals.” Fiona folded her arms and fixed her mother with a steady glare. Her mother never tried to chase her off; quite the opposite, she was famous for following Fiona around, haranguing her continually about all of her poor lifestyle choices, until Fiona fled, and she didn’t stop haranguing until long after Fiona was gone.

“Well, that’s simply not true, but you’ll need to run along. Your sister isn’t well.”

“Delphine asked me to come.”

“It’s not a good time.”

“Because you’re so busy eating lunch?” Fiona quirked an eyebrow skeptically. Her mother was definitely up to something.

“By the way, I heard from Maegera’s mother,” Desdemona scowled, changing the subject.   “She said that you’ve been making a fool of yourself pursuing Erik Bloodstone, and you really need to stay away from him before you become an utter laughingstock. She said Erik’s been complaining that you make him quite uncomfortable.”

Fiona gasped,  and her mouth opened and shut several times before she could formulate words.  This was why she never came to visit;  her mother’s verbal jabs were like physical blows.

Could Erik have really complained about her?  Was that possible? It couldn’t be.   Ever since he’d shown up, he’d been all over her. It made no sense that he’d say that she was chasing after him, making him uncomfortable.

The only thing Fiona knew for sure was that Maegera’s mother seemed to be very eager to keep her and Erik apart.

“I am absolutely not chasing after him,” she said, her voice shaking with anger.  “Erik is the one who’s been looking for me – which you know, because he said that he came by here and you told him you had no idea where I was. Which was a lie, of course. And Erik has hired me to be a consultant on a case.”

 “Ridiculous,” Desdemona snapped. “If he did that at all, it was out of pity.”

Fiona felt the familiar tightening in her throat.   Her mother’s arguments made no sense but they always circled back to one central theme: Fiona was an embarrassment to the Rosewood name.

“Anyway,  I’ll have Manfred show you the door. Do call in advance next time before you come; it’s what people with manners do.”

Fiona gritted her teeth and bit back a sharp retort.  Queasiness swelled up inside her and she clenched her fists.  She’d feel ill for hours after she left today.

“Wait,” Delphine protested.  “I want to see if she can help with these headaches I’ve been having.”

“Nonsense! She can’t help you. She’s not a doctor.”

“You said you didn’t want me to go to the doctor!  But my head is killing me. And I’ve been throwing up so much my stomach hurts.”

“Mother!” Fiona gasped. “What have you done?”

“Fiona, you will leave at once.” Desdomona’s voice rose even higher.

Fiona turned to the soup that Delphine was rejecting, pointed her wand at it, and concentrated. Within seconds, the little bits of leaves floating on the top had grown into a large curling vine with big glossy leaves.

“Purgeweed!” Fiona yelled, furious. “That’s why you came to my store the other day! That’s why you were rummaging around in the bins! You stole purgeweed, and gave it to Delphine without her knowledge or consent!”

“What?” Delphine leaped to her feet, staring at the soup in a mixture of horror and fury. “I thought I was dying! How could you?”

Fiona’s father set down his newspaper, looking alarmed.

“That is not just disgusting and appalling, it’s illegal!” Fiona was shouting at the top of her lungs.

“She’s under my legal control until she’s 21! I have two more years to make her into something that some half way decent wizard will condescend to marry!” Now Desdemona was shouting too.

Delphine burst into tears.

“Don’t try to quote law at me, mother! Especially not when it comes to herbs and their legal uses!  Those herbs are expressly illegal for consumption by anyone under the age of 21, and it is also a violation of law to give non-medicinal herbs to anyone, of any age, without their consent.”

“Desdemona, what were you thinking? That could cause a terrible scandal.” Their father threw down his newspaper and stood up. “What would the men at the club say if word of this got out?”

“That’s all that you care about?” Fiona swung towards him, eyes blazing with fury.  “Your wife is trying to poison your daughter, and your only concern is the scandal it might cause?”

“I hate both of you! I HATE you!” Delphine, an air elemental of no small power, sent the bowl of soup whirling across the room, spraying soup across the hand-flocked wallpaper and then crashed it into the wall, where it shattered to pieces. She leaped up and ran from the room, rushing from the house.

“Now see what you’ve done? She was finally starting to look halfway decent! By the Crystal Ball, she would have actually been attractive!” Desdemona’s voice quivered with self-righteous fury.

“I’m through with both of you,” Fiona said, in tones of ice, casting a look of contempt at her parents.  She walked outside; Delphine was already sitting in the passenger seat of her car, crying.

“I can’t believe she did that to me!” Delphine wailed, wiping at her nose with her sleeve. “Am I really that hideous?”

Fiona felt a red tide of fury swelling inside her.  She thought of the damage that her mother had done to her self-esteem from years and years of vicious insults and subtle jabs, and now that Fiona had escaped from her grasp, she was sinking her poisonous claws into Delphine. Well, not if Fiona could help it. 

“No, you’re not hideous; she’s just a crazy bitch who’s trying to make us feel responsible for her social failure. You know what? Nobody wants to be around her because she’s unbearable, but she blames us for the fact that she’s a social reject.  You’re beautiful.   Now we’ll go to my shop, I’ll get you some herbs for that headache, and you’ll feel well again in no time.”

“I’m never going home again. I hate them.”

“I’ll take you to Lillith’s house.  If she tries to make you come home, we can threaten to sic the law on her, with her illegal use of herbs. The threat of scandal might make her back off.”

Hands shaking, Fiona peeled away from the curb.

Chapter Eight

“Pour me another one.” Fiona slammed down her second tequila shot, leaning against the bar of the Three Broomsticks.

“You’re letting your mother drive you to drink.”

“No, I’d drink on my own. This just gives me added incentive.”

It was a typical crowd at the Three Broomsticks, a bar owned by three witches.   Humans, vampires, blood whores, elves, fairies, witches, warlocks, werewolves…all from the seedier side of life.   The lighting was dim, the air was smoky, the din was high. From time to time someone flew across the room, hitting a wall, or landing on a table. It was such a common occurrence at the Three Broomsticks that the customers barely glanced up from their drinks.

The room was a giant rectangle, with pool tables and dart boards towards the  back.  Fiona, Rosalind and Renoir were leaning on the bar. It was the night before the full moon, and Rosalind’s ears were pointy and tufted with hair, giving her an almost elfin look. She was drinking a beer and surveying the room for a potential partner to romp with during the full moon the next day.

“Maybe that one?” she wondered, pointing at a broad-backed werewolf standing with a group of friends.

“Rosalind, you haven’t even seen his face.” Warmth from the shot of tequila flowed through Fiona’s body.    She struggled to put the events of the day, and her disturbing reaction to Erik, from her mind, but the harder she tried not to think about him, the more firmly he was ensconced in her brain.

Rosalind looked puzzled. “His face? I won’t be having sex with his face.” The werewolf turned and she frowned. “Oh, never mind. Been there, done him. I want a new one.”

“See? That’s a good reason to look at their face.”

“Another one?” Peter, the bartender, asked her.

She sighed. “I’ll wait a few minutes. I’m just looking for a mild buzz, not a full on drunk.”

 “Suit yourself.”

“That one!” Rosalind’s face lit up. “I totally haven’t had sex with him.” She frowned, trying to remember. “I think I haven’t.  If I have, I can’t remember. That’s the same as not having had sex with him, right?” And she ambled through the crowd towards her intended conquest.

“It’s a wonder she can remember to walk and breathe at the same time.”  Maizie said, startling Fiona.

“Must you sneak up on me like that?” Fiona grumbled.

“I must. I need the practice. Stealth is important in my profession.”  A tall, muscular werewolf accompanied Maizie. Handsome in a loutish way, looked like his nose had been broken more than once. He was broad-shouldered and towered over Maizie and Fiona.

“This is Konrad.  He’s a member of the bodyguard guild. Good guy, very trustworthy, if you ever need any bodyguard work and I’m not available.”

“Trustworthy? You wound me, Maizie. That makes me sound…neutered.” He grinned, flashing big white canines that were elongated before the full moon. He looked as if he were ready to tear through a raw steak.

“Everyone knows you’re far from neutered,” Maizie said with a wink.

“As long as we’re clear. What can I get you ladies to drink?”

“Why, thank you, Konrad.  I’ll have a tequila shot.  Maizie, if I get really drunk and start acting like an idiot…”

“I promise to join in.  I’ll have a double tequila shot, thanks.”

As Konrad pushed his way down the bar to signal the bartender, Fiona leaned in. “Is that your latest conquest?”

Maizie fanned her eyelashes, looking innocent. “Who, me?”

“Have you moved on from the vampire? I was starting to worry about you.  Just don’t let Konrad bite you hard enough to break the skin; I don’t see you as looking good with pointy hairy ears.”

Maizie rolled her eyes. “Thanks, mom.”

Fiona had to admit to herself, she was surprised.  In the Maizie had always been a player, moving from one handsome young thing to the next, but she’d seemed to really be falling for her vampire employer.

Which, actually, would explain why she’d be likely to dump him and move on. Maizie feared vulnerability too much to let herself actually fall in love.

Konrad returned with their drinks, and Fiona slammed another tequila shot. “Here’s to never speaking to my mother again.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Maizie drained her shot and slammed it down on the bar. “Hit me, Peter!”  He refilled her drink.

Fiona stood up. She couldn’t tell if she felt shaky from the tequila or from the turmoil in her gut from her confrontation with her mother earlier that day.  “I’m going to use the ladies room.”

As she headed back there, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around.

It was Mitchell, one of a gang of human teenagers who were currently squatting in an abandoned warehouse near the river. They were runaways, castaways, society’s rejects. From time to time they stopped by Fiona’s shop to buy herbs to cure their late night excesses. The first time they’d come in, they’d tried to distract her so one of them could shoplift, but they’d swiftly found themselves dangling upside down from vines that snaked down from the ceiling; they’d always behaved perfectly after that.

Mitchell was normally pale and sickly looking, but tonight  he was downright ashen.   His eyes were bloodshot. He coughed frequently into a blood-spotted handkerchief, hands shaking.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he wheezed.

“Mitchell, what the hell? You look like a half-revived zombie.” Fiona was taken aback.

“Can I talk to you?”

“I’m going to regret this, but all right.   Let’s go.” She dragged him outside the bar so they could talk without shouting.   “What’s wrong with you?”

“We’re sick. We’re all sick. I think we did a bad batch of Blue Smoke a few days ago.”

“God damn it! You’ve got the lungbleed fungus.”

He coughed hard into his handkerchief, and then looked up at her fearfully.  “Is that bad? It sounds bad.”

“Is it bad to ingest a fungus that makes the veins in your lungs burst?  Yes, you idiot.  It’s fatal.” She waited while a look of shock washed over his face.

“Blue Smoke is often contaminated with lungbleed, which is a deadly fungus that grows on it.   This is yet another reason why you shouldn’t buy  drugs from scumbag back alley drug dealers, you moron.”

“Oh, my God,” Mitchell wailed.  “That bastard. He’s dead. He’s so dead.”

Fiona shrugged.  She didn’t have a problem with them killing off a drug dealer who sold tainted drugs to society’s castaways.  And she had to admit, she wouldn’t have wanted to be on the bad side of that particular gang of teenage criminals.  It wasn’t so much that they were powerful, but they could be  vicious when provoked, like cornered animals. And they were stealthy, and they knew the back streets in this neighborhood better than they knew the skin of their bodies. They could navigate blindfolded if need be through sewers, down alleys, and up fire escapes.