Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series Page 2

  I didn’t know about Ronnie, but I believed it.

  Ronnie backed up to the door and held it open for me. I kept an eye on him as I moved past him, but he didn’t try anything. Sheila came up close to the door and stood on the other side of it after it closed. She watched Ronnie like a hawk.

  “All right,” I said to him as we stood on the sidewalk. I wished I was wearing something besides the skimpy witch costume. I would have felt more confident talking to him. “What do you w-want?”

  “What did you do to it?” he asked, and all the desperation in the world seemed to be packed into that simple question.

  “What did I do with what?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.

  He looked around like he was afraid something terrible was going to jump out of the shadows at him and said, “You know.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t.”

  “You’ve got to know. You…you put that curse on me.”

  “Wait a minute. It wasn’t a real c-curse. It was just a singing telegram. I tried to explain that to you – ”

  “No!” For a second I thought he was going to fly off the handle again, but then he controlled himself. “It was real. It…it did something to me.”

  “What? What did it do?” I glanced at Sherry and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring nod, a sign that I had this under control. Which I didn’t. At all.

  “It took away…it made me lose my…it’s gone…well, not completely gone, but…” He held up a trembling hand with his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “It’s only like this long now!”

  The words of the telegram came back to me. I had thought they were a little odd at the time. All the others had been generic Happy Halloween greetings, some that Sherry probably had written or bought from somebody who specialized in such things. The song I had sung to Ronnie Holt was different.

  And the line that stuck out in my mind was “Shorn of that which you love most…”

  I felt a warm flush of embarrassment creeping over my face. I lowered my voice and asked, “Are you t-talking about your…about your p-p-p – ”

  “What else would I be talking about?” he practically wailed in dismay. “Please, you’ve gotta tell me what you did to it! You’ve gotta put it back like it was!”

  My face was downright hot now. I said, “I d-didn’t do anything to it! I would n-never – ”

  His hands shot out and gripped my shoulders. “You’ve got to help me!”

  The office door flew open, almost hitting us, and Sherry was on the sidewalk in a flash, sticking a gun in Ronnie’s face. “What’d I tell you?” she yelled. “What’d I tell you? Back off!”

  “Whoa!” he shouted as he let go of me and stumbled backward. “Don’t shoot!”

  “S-Sherry, wait!” I cried. An absolutely unexpected possibility had just exploded in my brain with such force that the whole world seemed to spin crazily around me for a second. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t…

  But I had an idea what might have happened.

  “No jury would convict me if I spread your brains all over this sidewalk, mister,” Sherry ranted as she continued to back Ronnie away. “This Glock’ll do it, too!”

  They were in front of the dental clinic next to Sherry’s office, which was already closed for the night. I danced up skittishly alongside Sherry and said, “Please p-put the gun down. It’s all right. He wasn’t g-going to hurt me.”

  “Darn right he’s not gonna hurt you,” she said. “I’ll drop him if he tries.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ronnie said. “I’m just so upset.” Tears started to run down his cheeks. “I’ve lost my best friend.”

  Now, that was getting a little ridiculous, even for a man, I thought. But it fit with what little I knew about him, which was mainly that Angela Vandermeer had been hurt enough to send him that singing telegram.

  “Sherry, just put the gun away and go back inside,” I urged. “I think I can f-fix this.”

  “No, I’m calling the cops. This guy attacked you – ”

  “Like he said, he’s just upset. Let me talk to him again.”

  Sherry frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m c-certain. It’ll only take a couple of minutes to put things right.”

  Actually, I didn’t know that at all. I was just hoping. But if what I suspected was true…well, maybe it was possible. There was only one way to find out.

  “All right,” Sherry said reluctantly. “Two minutes. And then if this guy is still here bothering you, I’m shooting him.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  “Wait a minute,” Ronnie began.

  “Shut up,” I told him. That tells you right there how upset I was by all of this, because I never talk to people like that.

  Still glaring, Sherry lowered the gun and went back inside the office. She watched us through the glass door and held up the Glock to remind Ronnie of the threat hanging over his head.

  I looked at him intently and said, “Listen to me. That happened to your…your th-thing right after I sang?”

  “I don’t know exactly when it happened. I felt a little weird, and then I went to the bathroom, and it…it was gone.”

  “This couldn’t have happened some other time?”

  “It was there earlier in the day. Trust me, I know.”

  I wasn’t just about to ask him for any more details than that. I said, “All right, I’m going to try to f-fix it.”

  “Whatever you have to do. Anything. Just put it back like it was.”

  I thought furiously, casting my mind back to all the things I had learned when I was younger. The words came back to me, especially when I thought about singing them, like the lyrics of a song you might not think of for years, but then you hear it again and you can still sing along with it. I had never heard these particular words sung before, so I’d have to make up a tune as I went along.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Let what was done be now undone

  “By the light of the autumn moon

  “Let my hurtful spell reverse

  “And let it be gone soon

  “Cleanse this one of any curse

  “And any fearsome pain

  “Restore to them what they have lost

  “And never trouble them again

  “Hear this plea from this humble one

  “This spirit all too new

  “Lift the spell that I have placed

  “And make it now be true!”

  Ronnie stared at me as the notes of my voice trailed away. A long moment of tense silence passed, and then he said, “That’s it? You just sing another little song and – ”

  He broke off, his eyes widening in surprise. His hands dropped to his crotch and started pawing at the front of his trousers. He let out a joyful whoop.

  “You did it!” he shouted as he continued groping himself. “You did it! It’s back!”

  Sherry burst out the door again, brandishing the gun. “I warned you, you perverted son of a – ”

  I got between her and Ronnie in a hurry, throwing my arms out to shield him.

  “It’s all right,” I yelled. “Take it easy, Sherry, it’s all right!” Over my shoulder, I added, “Get out of here, Mr. Holt! Now!”

  He was babbling, “Thank you, thank you,” but even in his gratitude at having his most prized possession restored to him, he must have realized how close he was to getting shot. He took off at a run across the parking lot, piled into a car, and a moment later screeched away.

  “You should’ve let me shoot that degenerate,” Sherry said.

  “Just put the gun away before somebody sees you w-waving it around and calls the police,” I begged her. I didn’t want to have to answer a lot of questions, especially right now. I had too much going on in my mind already.

  “All right,” she said. She stuck the Glock somewhere under the jacket she was wearing. “I hope you don’t think the job is always like this. We hardly ever have to deal with perverts. You’re not gonna let t
his keep you from coming back tomorrow, are you?”

  “I…I don’t know. Do you need me to come back?”

  “Probably. Hey, after all this, I feel like I owe you. I can always use another good singer. And if you change your mind about the strip-o-grams – ”

  “I won’t.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t write off this job, Aren. It’s a lot of fun, and it might turn into something permanent.”

  “We’ll see,” I said. “I can’t promise anything just yet. I have some f-family matters to deal with.”

  “Just give me a call in the morning, okay? You’ve got the number.”

  “All right,” I promised. “I’ll call.”

  I hoped I would be able to keep that promise, I thought as I went to my car, but I didn’t know. I really did have a family problem I had to take care of.

  I had to go see my parents and ask them why I was able to cast a spell today when I never had been before.

  Because, you see, I really am a witch, and I come from a whole family of witches.

  Although none of them I knew would ever be caught dead wearing a sleazy costume like the one I had on now.

  Chapter Three

  The whole incident had upset both Sherry and me so much that we had forgotten I was still wearing the sexy witch outfit. At least she hadn’t said anything about it, and I didn’t even think about it until I was driving away. That meant my regular clothes were still back at her office.

  Well, that would be an excuse to go back in the morning, I told myself. If I had the chance.

  I drove back to my apartment, hoping that when I got there no one I knew would see me as I was walking in. Unfortunately, by now the trick-or-treaters were out, so the sidewalks around the complex were full of kids and parents, some of whom were acquainted with me. I didn’t have any close friends there except my roommates Taylor and Beth, but I knew a lot of the residents to say hello to.

  They would just think I was on my way to or from a Halloween party, I told myself. It might surprise them to see me wearing something so revealing, but nobody would think much about it. Taylor and Beth actually were going to a Halloween party tonight and probably had left already.

  I parked and headed for the nearest outside stairwell. My apartment was on the second level of the complex. Several people called out to me and waved. I smiled and returned the waves. I even heard one old-fashioned wolf whistle but couldn’t tell where it came from. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  As soon as I let myself into the apartment I heard my roommates talking and realized they hadn’t left for the party yet after all. Taylor came out of her bedroom into the living room and stopped short at the sight of me.

  “Well, this is a new look for you, Aren,” she said after a second. “I must say, it looks good on you.”

  “Aren’s back?” Beth asked she emerged from her room. She stopped short. “Whoa.”

  That was what Ronnie Holt had said earlier, only Sherry had been waving a gun in his face at the time.

  Taylor said, “I take it you decided to take us up on the invitation and come to the costume party after all.”

  “I don’t know if I want her to go anymore,” Beth said. “With her looking like that, who’s going to be looking at us?”

  They had invited me to go with them to the party tonight, which was being given by one of the partners at the law firm where Taylor worked. He wouldn’t mind, she’d said. He had told her to bring along as many extra guests as she wanted, as long as they were female and hot. Beth fit that description, as did Taylor herself, of course. I had declined, knowing that I would be uncomfortable there in a house full of strangers, and also, I hadn’t been sure when today’s job would be over.

  “I’m not going to the party,” I told them now. “This c-costume is from where I was working today.”

  “Strip club?” Taylor asked. “I didn’t know they hired temps.”

  “Singing telegrams,” I said.

  “Ah,” Beth said. “That makes more sense.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You two are g-going as each other? Uptight lawyer and slutty n-nurse?”

  Taylor gave her blond mane a toss and put her hands in the pockets of the low-cut scrubs, which made more cleavage stand out. “I am not a slutty nurse,” she declared. “I’m a slutty intern. There’s a big difference.”

  “And I’m not uptight,” Beth said. “I’m just dressed that way.”

  She had her blond hair pulled back in a severe, conservative style and wore a gray suit and glasses. Normally she wore contacts, but I knew those were her real glasses. She really was an intern, just like Taylor was really a lawyer. So in that respect they really were dressing like each other tonight.

  They were also my best friends and had been ever since we’d been suitemates in the same dorm at UT as freshmen. We had all been young and bright and full of ambition.

  But that was where the resemblance between them and me ended. They were both blondes, I had midnight-black hair…and they were both successful, while me, on the other hand…

  I was working for a temp agency and delivering singing telegrams in a witch outfit. I supposed it was better to be a sexy witch than an ugly, wart-on-the-nose witch, but in my case, not by much.

  “You’ve already got the outfit on, you should come with us,” Taylor insisted.

  “Yeah, I was just joking about how I didn’t want you to go,” Beth added. “It’ll be fun, all three of us.”

  “I really can’t,” I told them. “I’ve got to go out to my f-folks’ house.”

  “Oh? Nothing wrong, I hope,” Taylor said.

  “No, not really,” I lied. “Just some family stuff to discuss.”

  “Well, if there are any legal matters, you know who to come to.”

  “Of course.”

  They looked at each other, and Beth said, “You ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” They came over and hugged me, and Taylor added, “We’ll see you later.”

  I smiled and nodded pleasantly, like I always do. As much as they mean to me, I couldn’t wait for them to get out of here so I could change clothes and head for my parents’ place.

  I wanted to ask my mom and dad if they knew why the spell I’d sung to Ronnie Holt had worked when I was absolutely, positively the worst, most incompetent witch in the world.

  I remembered how deep the pain stabbed into me every time I saw the disappointment in their eyes whenever I tried a spell as a little girl. Obviously, they’d had high hopes for me. After all, they were both powerful, high-level witches, and my brother Mark had been casting minor spells before he even started to school, which led to the infamous Sandbox Incident at day-care. My parents hadn’t realized what he was capable of at such a young age, and after that he never went back to Tender Tykes. He could fly by the time he was ten and levitate objects when he was twelve. It was like early-onset puberty, only mystical.

  So when I learned to read when I was two years old, my mom and dad had high hopes for me, too, I suppose. But when I tried to recite a spell…

  Well, it’s hard to cast a spell when you can’t get the words out. And back then my stammer was so bad it might take me a minute just to say a couple of lines.

  “She can’t lock in the energy and keep it locked in for long enough,” my father told my mother once when they didn’t know I was listening. “It all dissipates between one line and the next. You know the energy has to be build with each line for the spell to be effective.”

  I still got a lump in my throat when I thought about how my mother had sobbed and said, “I know, dear, I know.” My father put his arms around her and patted her on the back to comfort her as I stole away without them knowing I’d been there to see their sorrow and disappointment.

  That was what I’d lived with all my life: a golden-boy brother and the knowledge that I’d let my parents down. It wasn’t my fault, I told myself. Whatever glitch in my brain caused the stammering, I’d been born with it, and although wi
th time and effort I’d gotten better at suppressing it, the flaw was still there and always would be. And despite all logic, I still blamed myself for it, too.

  As soon as Taylor and Beth were gone, I got out of the witch costume and into jeans and a sweatshirt. After being dressed as Hooker Witch most of the day, it felt good to be in regular clothes again. I was even starting to calm down a little after the shocking discovery that I could cast spells after all.

  Now I was just intensely curious about why and how it had happened. It was time for supper, but I was too excited to even think about being hungry. I left the apartment, clattered down the stairs, and headed for my car. Some trick-or-treaters were still going from apartment to apartment, but the crowd had thinned out. I hoped none of them would be too disappointed when they knocked on our door and nobody was there to give them candy.

  This time I couldn’t avoid the freeways. Not easily, anyway. My parents lived northwest of town in an exclusive neighborhood. You’d think a witch wouldn’t have to work to be rich – just cast a spell and have money rain down in your lap – but that’s not the way things are. There’s a balance to the cosmos. Use magic to benefit yourself directly too much, and magic takes something else away from you. Most of the time the trade-off is minor. Cast a spell to clean up the house because you don’t feel like it, and tomorrow you’ll step in a big squishy pile of dog poo, or something like that. Count on it. Sometimes when you’re really tired, the dog poo is worth it. But if you cast a spell to make yourself as rich as Bill Gates, there’s no telling what might happen to you in order to balance that out. Nobody wants to take the risk and find out.

  So my father had always worked, and what’s more, he liked it. He had started with one small radio station, before Mark and I were born, and now he owned a dozen stations across Central and South Texas, as well having stakes in several cable TV companies, internet service providers, cell phone networks, and things like that. He was well-to-do, and he’d earned it.

  My mom had been an elementary school teacher for much of that time, although she had retired a few years earlier. She never used her powers on her students, except every now and then to nudge one in the right direction. That was no more than non-mystical teachers did, she always said. She just accomplished it in a slightly different manner when the regular methods weren’t working.