A Witch In Time: Magic and Mayhem Book Three (3 page)

“I was thinking you could watch me meditate for an hour,” I explained, getting into a yoga position and winking at him.

“Zelda.” His forehead furrowed and his nose twitched.

Damn, he looked like a rabbit even in his human form.

“Roger,” I shot back imitating his stern tone.

“Fine.” He gave up and shrugged. “Why don’t we just chat about things that won’t help you grow as a person or get over your fear of abandonment or make you realize you’re a lovable person?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said wanting to throw one of his big head-shrinker books at his face.

We sat in silence for a few minutes while I watched Roger rack his brain for a subject that would keep him safe from my itchy magical fingers.

“I have to say, I’m very excited that you’ve agreed to star in the show.”

He chose the wrong topic of conversation.

“Um… Dude—may I call you Dude?” I snapped sarcastically, not waiting for a reply. “I have agreed to nothing. Nothing. I want no part of a theatrical production where innocent by-standers bleed profusely.”

“I see,” Roger stated and jotted a few notes on a pad.

“What did you just write?” I demanded as I tried to peek at his notebook.

Roger eyed me for a long moment and I squirmed a bit in my seat.

“Fear of success,” he said sadly. “Fear of mass adulation. Fear of love.”

“Did you drink before our session?” I asked as my eyes grew large and the need to smack his head off his shoulders consumed me.

“It’s only two o’clock.” Roger checked his watch and nodded with satisfaction. “I never drink before four.”

“Good to know.” I made a silent promise to myself to check the session times of my future appointments with the good doctor. “I’m not doing the show. I told Fabio I would think about it. And the
only
reason I’m considering it is because Fabio wants to fit into Assjacket and it might help curb his gambling hobby.”

“I thought you were calling him Dad now,” Roger noted with surprise.

“I am,” I hissed. “I just wanted to be sure you knew who I was talking about.”

“Right.” His brows rose as he scribbled some more crap on his pad.

“Fine,” I shouted as Roger jumped in terror and his pad flew over his head. “You win. I’ll talk about all the painful and embarrassing stuff you want me to puke up. You happy now?”

“Only if you are,” Roger stated calmly as he hopped off his chair and placed a bucket at my feet.

I stared at it for a moment and then laughed. “That was a metaphor. I’m not going to really hurl.”

“My bad,” Roger apologized as he quickly retrieved the pail and sat back down.

Again we sat in silence staring at each other.

“Why don’t we pretend this is our first session and you get me up to speed on the last few months,” he suggested.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to pretend in here,” I said, trying to figure out how to get out of what I’d just committed myself to.

“It’s a game,” he replied evenly. “Just go with it.”

“Whatever.” I uncrossed my legs and grabbed a pillow from the couch. I squeezed it tight to my chest and took a deep breath. I knew I needed to try here. Roger might be a perv, but everyone I trusted in town swore he was a great therapist.

“My name is Zelda and um… I’m a witch with a few minor-ish problems. I really don’t want to be here, but since I have outstanding blackmail information on you, I feel fairly confident that what’s said in the office, stays in the office.”

He nodded and smiled. It was a real smile and I felt a tiny bit bad for giving him so much shit, but this was difficult for me. However, I wasn’t a weenie or a quitter. I was a semi-out-of-control witch with issues who needed to deal with said issues. I could do this. Maybe.

“Soooooo, Roger, the last year has been a doozy. I spent nine months in the stanky magic pokey for killing my cat who miraculously rose from the dead and turned out to be my dad. Interesting coincidence. To be fair to me, it was a total accident,” I said as my eyes narrowed at Roger while I waited for his reaction.

“Accident, you say?” he questioned with a partially raised left brow.

“I know it looks bad since I didn’t like the mangy little son of a bitch, but I’m a healer not a killer,” I insisted. “When I heard the first crunch I'd freaked out so much that I hit reverse and drive simultaneously a few times before I got out of my car and screamed bloody murder. So as you can see it
was
an accident. However, to make things right, I buried Fabio in a new Prada shoebox and left the super soft shoe bags inside as a blanket and a pillow. After Naked Dude's—or Dad as I now call him—resurrection, he complimented me on his cozy coffin.”

“That was a lovely touch,” Roger agreed making me like him a little more.

“Thank you, I thought so.”

“Welcome,” he replied warmly. “Let’s continue.”

I ran my hands through my wild red hair and groaned. This was ridiculous and I was losing it, but I wasn’t a quitter—twenty-two minutes to go.

“Of course, it didn't matter to Baba Yaga, the most powerful and horrendously dressed witch in existence, that it had been an accident or that my cat
slash
dad had actually lived. I had to serve time in the pokey with a heinous cellmate, Sassy the Violent Witch from Hell who now, much to my horror, is my neighbor in Assjacket. And on top of
that
shit show, Baba Yonutbag is apparently dating my dad,” I told my head shrinker.

“Do you have a problem with your dad dating?” he queried, supplying the normal therapist response to a child mentioning a parent was seeing someone.

“Nope. He’s a big boy and can make his own mistakes.”

The rabbit said nothing—just smiled and made some more notes.

I groaned and wondered if there was a straight jacket somewhere in the office that I could put on. Nope, no straight jacket… I let several minutes tick by feigning deep thought. When it reached really awkward silence I started talking again.

“After my release, I found out about Aunt Hildy who left me her house—a dead aunt I never knew. My task ended up being avenging her, taking over her job as the Shifter Whisper and maintaining the magical balance in Assjacket, West Virginia—far easier said than done. You idiots are violent.”

Roger bobbed his head politely in agreement.

Pacing would help me blow through the rest of my recent history faster. Sitting was making me itchy or maybe it was that I was getting to the parts I didn’t like. Standing up and tossing the pillow on the couch, I jogged the perimeter of the room and refused to make eye contact with my porno-loving therapist.

“Anyhoo, my beautiful and very dead Aunt Hildy came back as a ghost and was instrumental in helping save the day. She’s gone now, as you know. I wanted her to stay with me,” I said quietly and slowed my pace. “She’s gone on to the Next Adventure with her mate, Chuck the bear Shifter, who died in the magical battle with the honey badgers.”

The battle that had been the fault of my mother…

My mother was one of the main reasons I needed therapy. Her lack of any maternal instinct and her attempts at killing me kind of screwed with my chi, not to mention my self-worth. It also made me wary of relationships and believing people loved me. Blahblahblah.

I liked to think of it as water under the bridge especially since I’d very recently turned my mother into a mortal. She was now incapable of hurting anyone ever again. Or so I’d thought… Therapy was a bitch and teaching me I hadn’t quite let go of the unwanted, unloved little girl I used to be—or still was.

“This sucks,” I muttered as I checked the clock on the wall. Shit, fifteen more minutes to go. I was a witch of my word so I resumed my pacing and dove back in.

“If this is too difficult we can talk about something else,” Roger offered kindly.

“I’m not a weenie.”

“Never said you were,” he replied, cowering a little.

“I can do this,” I said as I curbed my need for movement and sat back down on the couch. “You really should get a more attractive couch.”

“So noted,” he said with a chuckle.

“I can help you shop for that,” I volunteered in a pathetic attempt to steer the subject toward buying stuff—something I enjoyed greatly.

“I’d like that.”

Fourteen and a quarter minutes to go. He didn’t fall for the diversion tactic. Crap.

“Sooooo, my mission or parole requirement thanks to Baba Yodumbass was to become the new Shifter Whisperer—or Shifter Wanker as I prefer to go by. Coming from a rare line of healers, my job makes unfortunate sense. I've never stayed anywhere very long and have few friends to show for it. Sassy does
not
count. She’s insane and ruined my favorite jeans. Belonging somewhere is new to me and it makes me happy which is not good. So, I refuse to get used to it. I’m a survivor and have gone most of my life as a loner. Less messy that way.”

“Messy is what showers and therapy are for,” Roger volunteered quietly.

“That was kind of profound,” I said surprised.

“Yes, well, I did go to medical school.” His lips were pursed and his eyes twinkled.

“I should hope so,” I shot back with a laugh. “I kind of figured you might have done it on line in between watching your
shows
.”

“My shows also inform my profession,” Roger explained.

“You moonlight as a hooker?”

“Um… no. I’m also a sexual therapist,” he reminded me. “Which brings me to Mac and you.”

“Mac and I do just fine in the sack,” I told him, offended that he would think otherwise.

“I’m sure you do, but do you think it’s wise to let that be the lynch pin of your relationship?”

“Would you like me to lynch pin your head to your desk?” I inquired, willing myself not to zap his ass into tomorrow.

“No, that sounds rather unpleasant,” he stated weakly as he wrung his hands. “I was simply suggesting that because you’re each other’s mates, you spend some quality time truly getting to know each other without the physical getting in the way.”

“The physical is
not
in the way. And we’re not mates.”

Roger just stared at me. I liked it better when he said stupid stuff and I could jump down his bunny throat. This silence stuff was unnerving.

“Okay, then,” he said in a reasonable doctor tone. “How many relationships with men have you had where you could tell me details other than sexual?”

Shitballs. He had me there. I decided to answer him with his own freaky medicine. I stayed mute. Unfortunately, so did he.

After about a twelve-ish minute stare down, he’d clearly had enough. “Would you like to talk about your mother?” he proposed gamely.

“I’d
love
to, but it looks like our time is up for this enlightening and nauseating session.”

As I peeked at the clock, I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d tortured myself and Roger with my history for a full session. That was enough.

“I’ll see you next time,” Roger said with a smile and a nod.

“I’d say thank you but I’d be lying. I’m pretty sure you want me to be truthful in here,” I said knowing I was being rude, but unable to stop myself. Roger didn’t deserve my disrespect. He was truly trying to help. However, I needed to
accept
it and my attitude was a little sucky. Well, there was always next time…

“Zelda, it’s all going to be okay. I believe that and I wish you would too.”

I looked down at my hands and screwed my eyes shut so no tears fell. Roger was wrong. I wanted him to be right, but I’d learned a long time ago that good stuff was always temporary for me. I wanted to stay in Assjacket. For the first time in my life I felt part of something bigger than just myself. I knew I should cut my losses and run while they all still liked me. However, with a newly found father, a
boyfriend
—for lack of a better word, and a town full of Shifters I was getting far too attached to, it was hard to leave. So I was here, at least for the moment. I’d promised Mac eight more dates before I blew this joint and I was keeping my word. It would make it more painful to leave when the time came, but a promise was a promise.

“Um… Thank you,” I mumbled as I high tailed it to the door. “I’ll see you in two days.”

Bizarrely, I did feel a little better—more confused, but better.

Maybe the pervy rabbit was onto something.

CHAPTER 3

I left Roger’s office in a full out sprint and came to a dead halt when I spotted the gorgeous man leaning on his motorcycle across the street—the very same man who was convinced beyond a doubt that I belonged to him and visa-versa. He was the sexiest distraction I’d ever seen—six foot four, wavy chocolate brown hair, sapphire blue eyes and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of… not to mention a face that would make angels weep.