Nice Witches Don't Swear Read online

  I wiggled my nose. Nothing. The sheets stayed every bit as rumpled. The quilts still clumped at the foot of the bed.

  Thinking about Baba Yaga’s work, I tried tugging on my earlobe. No luck. I waggled my fingers in the air, trying to improvise the sensation of a spell.

  I was beginning to feel a little ridiculous. Not to mention, I could have made the bed by hand three times over, in all the time I was taking to apply a magical solution.

  In for a penny, though, in for a pound. I decided to try a Spell à la Zelda, composing on the fly. Maybe Hecate was an equal opportunity goddess, after all.

  “Goddess hear me,

  Make my bed.

  Use your magic,

  Like Zelda said.”

  The tangle of sheets didn’t budge a millimeter.

  The only thing left to try was swearing like a truck driver. Or a sailor. Or Zelda herself. I could still remember the energy that had coursed through me when I tackled spell-making without any inhibitions about my language. Now, though, in the full light of day, without invading marsupials and monotremes, I felt a little ridiculous. I just didn’t feel comfortable talking to Hecate that way.

  Sighing, I pulled the sheets up to the top of the bed. I straightened the quilt. I fluffed up the pillows, taking time to hide them behind their matching shams. And then I collected On the Nature of Witches and headed down to the kitchen, hoping I’d never have to admit my failure to anyone.

  “I wondered how long you were going to keep trying,” Neko said, looking up from a stoneware mug that seemed to hold pure cream.

  David gestured with the coffee pot, half way to topping off his own mug. I nodded. I needed caffeine, if I was going to make any sense of the strange magic world around us.

  “Thanks,” I said, putting the book on the kitchen table as he passed me the java. I preferred tea, but any port in a caffeine-derived storm.

  I couldn’t meet David’s eyes as I took the cup. Not without knowing if he’d been the one to take off my clothes the night before. Avoiding that conversation, though, I responded to Neko’s comment: “I couldn’t even make a pillowcase move. Not a fraction of an inch.”

  “Much less the extra quilt Neko said he put over you.” David’s words were casual, but his message was loud. Neko had undressed me. Neko had put me to bed, not David.

  I didn’t waste time trying to figure out if my relief was tinged with disappointment. Instead, I nodded toward the door to the dining room. “I don’t suppose there’s a breakfast buffet laid out in there?”

  Neko shook his head mournfully. “Not a bite.”

  But David raised his chin, looking down the hall to the front of the house. An instant later, a sharp triple knock sounded on the door.

  I looked around, wondering if Zelda was in any shape to play hostess. “Everyone else is still asleep,” Neko said, stretching lazily. That left me to greet the Avon lady, or whoever else was calling.

  “Melissa!” I said, astonished to find my best friend standing on the porch.

  Of course it was Melissa. David must have sensed the presence of my best friend. If anyone else had stood there—any possible threat to my safety—my warder would have followed me out of the kitchen, with Neko in tow.

  The cold morning air had turned her nose bright red. Her eyes watered, and her hair was pulled back in an impromptu ponytail. Flour dusted the front of her shirt. A streak of something—cinnamon?—highlighted her cheekbone. But she was beaming with pride as she displayed a covered cake stand. “I did it!” she proclaimed.

  “Did what?” I asked, stepping aside to usher her into the warm house.

  She hurried back to the kitchen as if she’d lived in Zelda’s house her entire life. “A West Virginia stack pie!” she exclaimed, balancing the cake stand with care.

  The aroma of the masterpiece hit me as I followed her down the hall. I could make out cinnamon and apples and the rich scent of toasted nuts.

  Before I could say anything, though, Melissa stepped into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” she asked, so surprised that she almost dropped her handiwork.

  David rescued the cake stand before our breakfast was truly in danger. “Let’s just say, Jane convinced Neko and me that we needed a field trip from DC.”

  Melissa looked from my warder to me. Then she narrowed her eyes and accused my familiar, “You were working magic!”

  “Technically,” Neko corrected, “Jane’s the one who works magic. I’m just along for the ride.”

  My best friend whirled on me. “What happened to Girl’s Night Out?”

  “Things got a little complicated.”

  “Complicated?” Melissa sounded indignant. But I distracted her by saying, “It looks like you lost track of time, too.” I nodded toward the cake stand.

  She looked a little confused. I wondered just what sort of magical wards Zelda had set around Assjacket. Even now, I could remember the way the town had shed attention, like a raincoat beading up with drops of water. There’d been a reason we’d nearly passed by the diner without going in—no matter how badly we’d needed a bathroom.

  “Yeah,” Melissa said. Any of her lingering frustration, though, was overshadowed by her pride as she looked at the cake stand. “I guess I did. My first attempt didn’t turn out that well. My second one, either. But DeeDee insisted third time was the charm, and she was right!”

  Melissa removed the cover from her dessert, twisting a perfect flourish with her wrist. “Voila!” she said.

  A West Virginia stack pie was exactly what it sounded like. Three perfect pies were centered on the platter, stacked precisely on top of one another. Each had its own crust—golden graham cracker crumbs for the bottom one, a single pastry for the middle one, and an intricate lattice over the last one. Melissa pointed to each concoction and proudly announced, “Cinnamon custard on the bottom. Then pecan. And apple cranberry on top!”

  My stomach clenched with hunger. Neko’s eyes gleamed as he ransacked a cabinet for three plates and a bowl. “What?” he asked as I eyed the bowl. “I’m going to pour cream over mine.”

  Melissa must still be enchanted by her accomplishment, because she didn’t flinch at his proclamation. Instead, she took the knife Neko proffered and served up neat slices of the stack pie.

  “Mmmm,” I mumbled, as the perfect combination of carbs hit my bloodstream. “This is amazing!”

  Melissa grinned. “I think I’ll put it into regular rotation at Cake Walk. DeeDee said I can come back any time. Maybe learn about some of the other desserts she’s got at the diner. I couldn’t believe how fast the night went while we were working together!”

  I bet she couldn’t. In fact, I was pretty sure there’d been some magic involved to keep her far from the platypuses and wombat. Zelda’s fingerprints were all over that. Or the Baba Yaga’s.

  Melissa had been ensorcelled, in the most enjoyable way possible for her. While I’d been fighting giant Australian wildlife, she’d been safe and secure in a kitchen, whipping up dream desserts. Or breakfast, as the case might be.

  It turned out that protecting Assjacket from animal invaders stoked a pretty healthy appetite. All of us accepted seconds, and even then I barely managed to keep from licking my plate clean.

  Only as we teetered on the edge of a sugar coma did Melissa finally look around the kitchen. “What is this place?”

  “It belongs to a local witch,” I said, figuring the fewer details the better. “How did you know how to find us?”

  “DeeDee said you’d be here. She was the one who said you’d be hungry.”

  I bet she did. The deer shifter must have sensed our astral battle.

  There was certainly more to Assjacket than met the eye. But a quick glance at David convinced me this wasn’t the time to delve into the arcane history of our curious little West Virginia town. “Thanks for breakfast,” he said to Melissa warmly. “But isn’t there some Shakespeare quote about resuming a journey interrupted?”

  “Shakespeare?” I as
ked, staring at him in astonishment. “Don’t you think we should wait for—”

  “The Shenandoah Shakespeare Festival waits for no woman. If you leave now you can still make the first matinée.”

  I couldn’t believe he sounded so…normal. I said, “I think I should probably—”

  “Everything’s under control here,” he said, easily cutting me off. His head barely inclined toward Melissa, but I realized he was telling me not to share any more of our crazy exploits.

  Still, I had to say, “Zelda—”

  “Had a late night last night.”

  “Mac was—”

  “Under the weather.”

  I stared at my warder. After the horrors we’d fought in the bedroom upstairs the night before, I needed to make sure that everyone else was all right. I wanted to understand more about how Zelda worked her spells, how the rules that controlled her magic were so very different from my own.

  “Fabio,” I said, using a little of the rebellious vehemence that had propelled my final profane spell. “Carol. Sassy.” I wasn’t going to let my warder railroad over every name, even if Melissa was looking at me like I was nuts.

  “It sounds like you’re practicing for roll call at the pokey.”

  I whirled around to face Zelda. Her long red hair was tangled. She wore a fabulous black negligee, barely covered by a satin robe. Her eyes gleamed when she saw the remains of the stack pie on the counter. “Is that for me?” she asked Melissa. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I didn’t—” Melissa said, but now it was my turn to cut someone off.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Zelda. “I mean, after last night… After the platypuses… And the wombats…”

  “Jane,” David murmured.

  “And that healing,” I said, as if I were possessed. “How did you do that healing? I didn’t think Mac had a chance!”

  “Jane,” David repeated, more forcefully this time, and this time he wasn’t subtle about the glance he shot toward Melissa.

  She wasn’t supposed to know. My mundane best friend wasn’t supposed to know that Assjacket, West Virginia was poised on the edge of some astral hellhole, where bloodthirsty creatures could pour out of nowhere and attack perfectly unsuspecting citizens.

  Maybe it was the sugar from all those pies. Maybe my sleep hadn’t been as restorative as I’d thought when I first awakened upstairs. Maybe my mind was still jangled from the tremendous outpouring of magic I’d channeled the night before. But I couldn’t shut my mouth. I couldn’t pretend that Assjacket was exactly like Washington DC, that the world around us was quiet and sane and normal.

  “I saw those creatures!” I shouted. “I worked that spell!”

  “Thank you,” Zelda said, in the same tone she might have used if I’d offered her a mani-pedi at the closest spa, with a massage and a Brazilian wax tossed in for free.

  “I did everything right!” I spluttered. “I offered up my thoughts, and my voice, and my heart. I relied on spells in the Osgood Collection, on magic that I’ve memorized! But nothing worked! Not until… Not until I stopped all that. Not until I— I—”

  I heard the panic rising in my voice. I didn’t care about the swearing. That was nothing, just a way of getting to the end-point without unnecessary delay.

  But I was terrified at the thought of being a witch in a world without rules. I couldn’t be responsible for magic without the safety of books, the security of traditional spells, without the comfort and organization of ritualized workings.

  My heart pounded in my ears. I couldn’t force myself to draw a full breath. The roof of my mouth was tingling.

  “Easy,” David murmured, coming up behind me.

  “Jane—” Melissa said, her voice now reflecting my panic.

  “Help me out here, Neko,” David said, and I felt my familiar press against my side.

  I thrashed and pulled away. I didn’t want his comfort. I didn’t want the easy strength he loaned me. Not now. Not when I knew witches could throw their magic around without familiars, without warders. I needed to understand everything that had happened. I had to know what else Zelda could do, whether there were any limits on her powers.

  “No!” I shouted as Neko took my wrist.

  “Jane!” Melissa said again.

  “What the hell—” That was Mac, roaring as he tumbled down the stairs, taking the steps four at a time. His chest was bare as he burst into the kitchen, and his eyes flashed with fury. “Can’t a man get a decent night’s sleep after—” He stumbled to a stop, gaping at Melissa. “Who’s she?” he asked Zelda.

  “Someone who was just leaving,” the witch said. And at the same time, she raised her right hand above her head, pointing straight at the ceiling.

  My gaze followed her fingers automatically. My eyes moved, but nothing else in my body. I couldn’t turn my head. I couldn’t raise my arms or shuffle my feet. I couldn’t do anything but send a strangled thought to David and Neko, silently, mind to mind: “Help me!”

  “Not a step, you douchecanoes,” Zelda said. No one talked to David that way. But before he could react, Zelda backed up her command: “By the Goddess herself, don’t you move.”

  I should have been terrified. A witch held absolute control over me, over my warder, over my familiar. For that matter, Zelda was controlling an innocent mundane, a civilian, because Melissa was as rooted to her spot as the rest of us.

  But even as I fought to break free of Zelda’s bonds, I realized she wasn’t hurting me. She wasn’t invading my powers with her own. In fact, her powers were cushioned as they pressed against mine. She was holding herself back. Protecting me.

  And that’s when it all made sense.

  Zelda was a witch, just like I was. She was sworn to Hecate, bound to use her powers in service of the goddess. Sure, she took a different approach. Her language was a lot rougher than what I used. Her spells were a lot more haphazard. But I’d only succeeded in destroying the wombat when I gave myself over to Zelda’s free-wheeling methods, when I forgot about the time-stealing rituals I’d always followed.

  At our cores, she and I were the same. We both worked spells. We both thrived on the power and beauty and grace of the natural world around us. We were witches, plain and simple.

  Zelda lowered her hand, and her magical grip eased on me, at least the compulsion to stare at the ceiling. My neck relaxed, and I could watch her calmly.

  “You,” she said to Neko, snapping her fingers. My familiar took a step forward. “And you, too,” she said to David. “Jane is fine. She’s safe. And you douchenozzles are just confusing things.”

  She reached up and tugged on her earlobe, once. Hard. “Forget Assjacket,” she said. “Take that book and head back home.” She tugged again, and the Goldthwaite volume, my familiar, and my warder all blinked out of existence.

  “And you,” she said, turning toward Melissa. “You can keep your memory of cooking with DeeDee. You’ll still know how to make a stack pie, but you have to leave that one here.” Before Melissa could protest, Zelda wiggled her nose. “Back to your car now.”

  Melissa disappeared.

  “And that leaves you,” Zelda said, turning to face me.

  I wanted to protest. I wanted to fight. But even if I could move my fingers, even if I could make my throat vibrate over the spells I knew by heart, I knew Zelda’s wild magic would get things done before I could.

  Her fingers settled on her earlobe. She smiled at me. She shook her head a little, as if she were remembering everything we’d accomplished together. I closed my eyes, picturing a spell in the Compendium Magicarum, a protection to keep witches from prowling through one’s dreams. I flexed my fingers, ready to call upon Hecate. I prepared to offer up my thoughts, my voice, my heart.

  But before I could do anything, Zelda tugged her ear, and I knew nothing.

  * * *

  My fingers were cramped around the steering wheel. I leaned back in the seat, expecting my back to protest. I couldn’t believe Melissa and I had s
pent the entire night in the car, pulled over at the side of the road in God-knew-where, riding out the storm of the century.

  That was one advantage to Gran’s Lincoln, though. The seats were roomy enough that we could survive a full night’s sleep in its steely confines. We would never have banished the cricks in our necks if we’d camped out in a Prius.

  Melissa’s eyes fluttered open. “Where are we?”

  I glanced at the nearest building. The Assjacket Savings and Loan. “Um, Assjacket, I guess. West Virginia.”

  “That storm was something else,” Melissa said.

  I nodded as I peered at the run-down buildings around us. “That looks like a diner. Want some breakfast?”

  Melissa shrugged. “I’m not all that hungry.”

  I realized I wasn’t either. “Why don’t we hit the road, then? We should still be able to get to Granite Valley in time for Timon.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I turned the key and put the Lincoln into gear. “I’m so glad Gran isn’t with us,” I said to Melissa. “Can you imagine her spending the night on the side of the road?”

  My best friend grinned. “I can just hear her now, worrying about bogeymen and things that go bump in the night. Like anything could ever happen in a small town like this!”

  We laughed and headed out of Assjacket.

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