kate storm 04 - witches dont back down (2 page)

"I need to unlock my inner beast."

And I needed to have a conversation with my secretary. She had been reading a self-help book the other day. Clearly, she'd overshared with my Chihuahua.

Désirée Norma-Sue, my redneck secretary, had recently escaped being kidnapped by her stalker ex-boyfriend. She'd beat the stuffing out of him and I thought that had resolved any issues she might have had.

A couple weeks ago, she'd started reading self-help books. And I'd had to revise my opinion. But just a little. Anyone, in my view, who reads "How To Defend Yourself Against ANY Attack in Ten Days" does not have major issues.

Especially since the subtitle mentioned something about permanent maiming and how to avoid lawsuits.

I sighed.

I wasn't sure what kind of inner beast Al had. He was such a loving Chihuahua. I also wasn't sure I was up to appropriately dealing with this right now.

It was four AM after all.

My brain kept coming up with images of a really tiny wolf's head emerging from Al's chest like in the movie "Alien" and then an image of Sigourney Weaver dressed in a tank and panties would appear and all I could really think was
Damn, she looked good
.

It circled around and around in my head. Especially the image of Sigourney Weaver. Height and a great body. I tried to superimpose my face on the image, but then the tiny wolf's head would pop out of Al's chest and . . . Like I said, it all simply circled.

And I couldn't use a spell on Al. That would be black magic.

I'm a good witch.

"Al, I . . ." What I had was nothing. Zip. Nada. Squat.

And Sigourney in a tank and panties. My brain was sort of stuck on that image now.

"It's all right, Doll." Al licked my lips and jumped down onto the couch. I fluffed the blanket around him. "Ya need your sleep. You've got two new clients tomorrow."

I kissed his furry little head and turned the TV on to the History channel. They were having a Weapons Throughout History marathon.

Al grunted and snuggled in.

I sighed and went back down the hall to my bedroom. I felt terrible. And I couldn't get the image of Sigourney Weaver's body out of my mind.

Ash was still awake.

"He okay?" Ash lifted the edge of the sheet for me to crawl back in.

"Maybe. I don't know." I dropped my robe and more or less dove into bed.

I burrowed into his big body. Ash wrapped his arms around me.

The warmth of his touch settled me.

I'd figure out a way to help Al. We'd all figure it out. Al, Ash and I. We had to because I couldn't live without either one of them.

2. Love, Haters and Karaoke

I dreamt about Sigourney Weaver. And tiny wolf heads.

But mostly about Sigourney Weaver.

I tried to suck my stomach in after I woke up, but it didn't seem to help. Plus I had to pee. After I took care of my bladder, I was in desperate need of coffee and then Ash walked into the kitchen and that took care of both my visions of Ms. Weaver and my thoughts about getting a girdle.

He slid his arms around me, cupped my ass with both hands and lifted me up into his body. "Good morning," he murmured right before he kissed the hell out of me.

Actually, since he’s the King of Demons, I must have kissed the hell out of him.

After several minutes, he set me back down and poured himself a cup of coffee.

I mostly swayed in place and decided there was no possible way a Demon King could get rid of all the hell in him.

More's the pity. Ash is tied to his sin. Lust. Which is tied to hell. Which means at some point, probably fairly soon, he will have to go back to hell. His sin will force him back.

I've been trying to come up with a solution to that problem, but so far I haven't had any luck.

Turns out demons keep really crappy records about their history. Then again they all live in hell. If I lived there, I doubt I'd have anything memorable to write down either.

Pages and pages of "It was super hot today." would seem rather repetitive after a while.

Of course Ash could always make good on his deal with my Aunt Morgause and then he'd be free of hell. But then I would be dead so that didn't work either.

It's recently come to my attention that I have the worst relative in the entire world and all the realms. Three times over. Bar none.

You may recall a little story about King Arthur and Guinevere. And those of you with a fondness for tragic tales might even have read about Mordred, the little shit who betrayed Arthur, stole his crown, and married Guinevere. Those are my relatives. Talk about a few skeletons in the broom closet.

Mordred's aunts caught wind of his evil scheme and they cast a spell to make him mortal so Arthur could kill him in battle and take his revenge.

Mordred had been a little shit all his life. No one was overly upset about this plan. Except his mother. My many times removed aunt Morgause.

She took exception and then went about cursing everyone involved–and each subsequent family member–to become mortal and to Fail in Love. I guess that wasn't bad enough, because she also started using black magic to kill off the entire coven as well. She was extremely efficient. There are only three members of our once powerful coven left. And I'd say that's mostly due to pure luck.

I don't count Morgause as a member of our coven. She's an evil bitch and she haunts my nightmares.

Before Ash and I fell in love, he made a deal with Morgause. He'd find me and, in return, she would release his tie to hell. Ash wants more out of life than hellfire and brimstone.

I inadvertently screwed up Ash's plan when he fell in love with me. I'm in love with him, too, so it all works. Aside from my curse, his sin, and my scary aunt with a murderous plan.

Like I said. I'm working on it.

"Mornin', Doll." Al wandered into the kitchen, yawning. "Ash."

"You ready to head outside for a bit?" Ash asked.

This was something I hadn't quite figured out either. After Ash moved in, he had taken over the task of letting Al out to do his business. I think it was another aspect of their male bonding.

I also think Ash was peeing on my lawn upon occasion as well.

I would take him to task over it, but I was fairly certain Phil and Drake, my secretary and my best bud's boyfriends, were also peeing outside when they were with Al.

I'm a girl so I don't get the appeal of peeing on a tree. I don't have the inclination or the equipment.

I have been trying to view it as a healthy bonding experience they are all going to get over
very soon
.

And I've made a point to cast concealing spells every morning and every night.

I turned on the small television in my kitchen to the morning news. "I'll have your coffee ready when you come back." I told Al as he and Ash headed down the stairs to the front door.

I only gave him a small amount in the morning. Like I said, he's a very small Chihuahua.

Al didn't appear upset or overly tired this morning. I took that as a positive sign. But he hadn't appeared upset before I found him watching graphic wolf shows either. Maybe we needed to have another talk?

"And in other news, Charles Clayton, best-selling author of
The Defense
self-help series will be touring southeastern Idaho as part of his National book tour."

I glared at the television. Or maybe I just needed to have a chat with my secretary.

****

Al and I got to work before Désirée Norma-Sue, my redneck fairy secretary. She's not a great believer in arriving on time. At all.

I'm not a great believer in asking someone to change. We all are who we are. And fairies have never been known for their timeliness.

I think it's the sparkles. And glitter.

Fairies make their own, of course, but have you noticed how prevalent glitter and sparkly things are in today's society? It's on everything. Balls. Cards. Clothing. Cupcakes.

It's everywhere. And fairies can't resist it.

They have to explore and check it out.

It takes them twice as long to get anywhere.

I don't have a problem with it. Like I said, I don't believe in asking someone to change. Besides I love sparkles and glitter.

I dispersed my protection spell and unlocked the front door to Love Required
,
my matchmaking business.

I service both the human and the HC community.

I'm a total romantic and I believe strongly in the power of love despite being cursed to Fail in Love myself.

Ironic, huh?

It used to make me want to cackle. My way of saying, “I spit in the face of thee to the curse.”

Mwah, mwah, mwah.

Now it just makes me spitting mad.

I'm a cursed to Fail in Love witch in love with the King of Demons who is tied to hell by his sin and will eventually have to leave me and break my heart into a million, gazillion pieces.

Next time you think you have it bad, just think of me. You'll feel better.

In the past, at this point, I'd usually think
how much worse can it get?

But I've learned a few things: 1) My trials have made me stronger. I've got some backbone to me now. 2) I've found solutions to some very serious problems lately which means hope is not lost. Hiding perhaps, but not entirely lost. 3) Anytime you ask a question like that, it's a given you are not going to like the answer. So just don't ask.

My front door opened into a small reception area complete with a desk for whenever Désirée Norma-Sue showed up and two scarlet upholstered chairs.

Until Désirée arrived, and after-hours, I used my answering machine. It was an older model and somewhat large. Désirée had covered it in adhesive jewels shortly after I'd hired her. Now, when I wanted to listen to any messages, I hit the large, square pink rhinestone. The blue one deleted them.

I still wasn't sure what the green one did. Or the purple one. The jewels covered up all the instructions on my answering machine.

The red light was blinking, but I decided to ignore it for the moment. I'd arrived a little early. I'd been getting to work early for the past couple of weeks so I could do some research on Morgause and Ash's sin. I truly have been working on both of our issues. I just haven't had any luck. There is a ridiculous amount of information online. Sifting through it all takes time.

Two offices branched out from my reception area. One for the humans and one for the HC. They were both painted a lovely Cabernet and held a desk and two wing chairs.

In the human only office, I'd hung pictures of the human couples I'd matched.

On the walls in the HC office, I had black and white pictures of werewolves, gargoyles and gryphons taken by my aunt as well as my coven's symbol painted in a rich, shimmery gold. The symbol for our coven is the True Lover's knot. I know. I know. The total irony, right?

Mwah, mwah, mwah.

I cackle in the face of thee as well.

The wing chairs in both offices are upholstered in red silk, embellished with various black spell symbols for truth, love and money. The spells tend to work better on the humans, but I'll do whatever it takes to find the perfect match for someone. Regardless of their background. Or their sometimes less than flattering view of myself.

Those truth spells work
really
well.

Behind my desk in the HC office are two paintings of Greek and Norse mythology. Well, humans call it mythology. The HC call them history. And a couple of clients called two of the figures in the paintings Aunty and Uncle.

We walked into my HC office. Despite the overwhelming amount of snubs I receive from the HC, I still associate myself more with them.

I don't have any human friends, unless you count the owner of the Italian restaurant down the street. I have him on my speed dial.

But our relationship is mostly limited to to-go orders. And head rubs for Al. Come to think of it, the owner spends more of his time petting Al than talking to me when we pick up our dinners.

I did have a friend once who was human. Except he died and then turned into a zombie and then he really did die. And didn't come back.

So I guess you could say
all
of my friends belong to the HC community. All six of them.

I sat down behind my desk. It was my mother's. It's scarred and scratched and I love it. It's one of the few things I have of hers. My mom died seven years ago. They say time heals all wounds. I don't know who the hell "they" are, but I can tell you they got it wrong. I have a hole in my heart that just won't heal. It's jagged around the edges and empty inside. And whenever I think about my mom, it aches.

How emptiness can ache I don't know, but it does. The sweetest, loving-est, most painful ache you can ever imagine. It's a part of me now. It always will be.

"I'm going to check out the rest of the office," Al said as he headed out. He's a stickler for my safety. Recently Désirée Norma-Sue's psychotic ex-fiancé managed to break into my business despite both the industrial door locks and my protection spells.

He used black magic. I hate black magic. It's just plain bad. So I appreciated Al's thoroughness. And his strong sense of smell.

The phone rang.

"Hey, Chicky." It was Morgan. She's at the top of my six HC friends list.

She's my best friend. Dead, un-dead or otherwise.

She's my UDBF. Un-Dead Best Friend.

Morgan is a vampire. Technically she's my UDBFF, but Morgan is immortal and I'm mortal so to be truly technical we can't be BFFs.

Morgan is also Morgana Le Fay, previous witch and seductress of ancient lore, current vampire, amazing friend and also my aunt. She's my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great–Okay, let's just assume there were thirty plus or minus greats here–aunt. Morgan also informed me she'd kick my ass if I called her my great, great, great, great, great–you get the picture– aunt ever again.

I haven't. And frankly that had more to do with trying to say all those greats than Morgan's threat. She's my UDBF. She'd never kick my ass.