Fur Magic Boxed Set: Talisman, Sage, Fawn, Lola: Paranormal Romantic Comedy (25 page)

Chapter 12

I bit into the bindings, weird twine ropes, and chewed, fighting the urge to vomit everywhere. These ropes tasted like feet. Had to be made of hemp or something equally witch related. Apparently, the Chokecherry witches were obsessed with the new age goodies and fads.

It was a weird thought to accompany the impending doom of my mistress and everything I held dear.

Amelia struggled. “Come on, Tali, you’ve got this.” She tugged at the ropes again and again.

Bianca’s muttering grew louder, and a wind rose in the room, plucking at my fur like some human had stroked it in the wrong direction. I carried on chewing, even though my insides wanted to squirm right out of my body.

Sage, are you there? Is everything clear?

I fought the bindings, tearing at them, and chipped a tooth. Boy, Penelope had better thank me for this later. Losing a life was one thing, but chipped teeth? How very Jim Carrey in Dumb & Dumber. Maybe I’d change my name to Lloyd. If I lived.

Sage! Senile much?

No reply. That made my guts frolic even worse. Where the hell was that nosy old owl? He’d better be all right. I couldn’t deal with more complications. Already, three of my friends were in danger. One of them, the love of my nine lives. Okay, I admit it.
All
of my lives.

Bianca’s mutters intensified again. My fur was in a constant state of Mexican Wave and Amelia’s eyes about popped out of their orbits. 

“Penelope!” She yelled, and thrashed around. The rope I worked on creaked and tore, trailing fibers wet with my spit. Take that weird dope rope. Hopefully, this shit didn’t make me high as a giraffe’s ass. I needed my wits about me.

Amelia wrenched her arm free, and I took the moment to peer around the slab and check that the Chokecherry bitch hadn’t downed my mistress for good.

But no, Bianca was still there, rocking back and forth now with her eyes rolled back in her head. Wind whipped around her, chasing up papers which had been scattered on a desk in the corner.

A book lay open there, no doubt her Book of Shadows, and the thick pages flicked back and forth, almost as if a ghost hovered above it, perusing to its heart’s content.

Penelope was on her knees in the center of the room, gripping her stomach with her slender hand and staring up at Bianca, in a daze. Too bad she didn’t cast up her accounts all over Bianca’s red rat’s nest.

We’d thought Lucinda was behind this, but where was she? No sign of the mistress of darkness who’d started it all.

I returned to the bindings, hacked at the taste, then chomped on the next one. Amelia had freed her one hand and helped me, ripping at it in order to help. She searched for a knot, found one and began untying it.

“I’ve got this, Talisman. You look after Pen.” Amelia was pale and she had a nasty looking scratch along one cheek, but she seemed strong. An inner fire which had led her to the whole investigative reporter thing.

I bounded to Lola on the slab, but she was out like a light.

Lola! Can you hear me?

No answer there either, but she was alive. Breathing and physically uninjured, at least externally. What had the witch done to her? Put her in a kitty coma? There was no time to waste. I had to interrupt Bianca’s spell before it killed my mistress and my favorite lady friend.

I hopped off the stone, careful not to bump Lola, and hurried around the corner of the slab. I tried to wish myself into man form. Nope, nothin’ doing. The human body wouldn’t come on and the amulet felt like a lodestone. It dragged me toward the fall.

Each swirl of magic and wind from Chokecherry pressed me closer to the floor.

I pressed my belly flat on the boards and crept toward the evil witch, dragging my precious black fur over it.

Bianca reeled and shook her hands in the air, summoning the devil only knew what. No, seriously, only the devil could know. She was
that
evil.

Penelope’s voice joined the chorus of chanting and wailing from Bianca.

I froze and whipped my head around to look at my mistress. She couldn’t be for real. A spell?

No!

If Penelope did a spell, her magic would be siphoned from her and delivered directly to Lucinda or Bianca or whoever had control of the curse. She was risking her life for Amelia, and she didn’t even know it.

Penelope’s gaze hardened. She gripped her stomach and chanted her magic, looking from Bianca and to Amelia, determination etched into the lines of her face.

Or maybe she did know that it might mean her end.

“No, Penelope, don’t do it,” Amelia yelled, ripping her arms out of the bindings. She sat up and loosened the ties around her legs.

I dragged myself away from Bianca and toward Penelope. I had to stop her from going through with this. I had to!

Penelope raised one hand and pointed at Bianca.

All her remaining energy poured from her hand and struck the bad witch squarely in the chest. Bianca gasped and placed her palm to breast. She stumbled back and the winds dropped immediately.

The pages of the book stopped turning.

I could walk again. I could run!

I launched myself off the boards and ran for Penelope.

But it was already too late. My beloved mistress keeled sideways and hit the floor, eyes shut.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

I galloped to her and stopped in front of her face. I licked her nose and pawed her cheek gently. Nothing. She was out like a light.

“Ha! I still beat you, stupid bitch,” Bianca said, and wheezed a laugh. “I’ve been waiting for you to get your comeuppance for years and now it’s finally happened. Good riddance to bad garbage.”

I turned and placed myself between Penelope and Bianca, my hair standing on end. I hissed and spit. If Chokecherry came near my mistress, I’d go furry balls to the walls. Scratch her to ribbons and use her leftovers for a chew toy.

Talisman, where the hell are you?

Sage?

I’m above the roof. Someone’s coming. I can’t see who it is.

I didn’t reply, but it was good to hear his thoughts and know he still lived, unaffected by the necromantic magic swirling in this hell hole.

Bianca stumbled toward Pen and me, and I prepared for the ultimate battle. The one that no one ever walks away from. I spat again, pressing my ears flat against my skull and hissing for all I was worth.

“You don’t scare me enchanted feline –”

Amelia lurched off the stone slab with a terrific battle cry, the kind that shook the rafters and invoked real terror in anyone who heard it. Bianca wasn’t immune to that effect. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open and she let out a terrific squeal of fright. When she’d tried to kill Pen just moments ago, she’d drained her body of its energetic reserves. She had nothing left to cast another spell to stop Ami.

Amelia careened into her and drove her to the ground, slapping and clawing for all she was worth. A bitch fight worthy of the Real Housewives of New Jersey.

But Bianca’s initial fear dissipated relatively quickly. Amelia was weak too from whatever Bianca had done to her to get her onto that slab.

The witch fought her off easily.

I sprinted to catch her before she could get away.

Bianca Chokecherry kicked Amelia out of the way and sprinted out the door.

Chapter 13

I stood over Penelope, staring after Bianca Chokecherry. My mistress was in grave danger, unless that fake Ginger was caught and brought before a council of witches, Dagda Cerridwyn included, and punished for her dastardly deeds. 

The Chokecherry witches and their coven, would never stop attacking the DeLacroix family. Not as long as they had evil breath in their vacuous soul-devoid bodies.

Tali?

I spun, shocked to the core.
Lola! You’re all right.
I streaked toward her, relief flooding every cell in my body.

She jumped off the concrete slab and hurried toward me, her fur sticking up at odd angles.
Tali, I’m sorry, I tried to do as you said, but they found me in the hallway.

I know it’s okay, wait… they?

Yes, Bianca Chokecherry and the other guy. The horrible one who hates animals. He knocked me out. I thought for sure they were going to do something… unnatural to me, but he must’ve left. Did he leave? He scares me so much, Tali!

My mind ran through the facts. I glanced back at the door.

Talisman, there’s a witch on the loose out here.
Sage’s thought was urgent.

Follow her! I’ll be out in a second. I turned back to my gorgeous woman and met her bewildered gaze. Lola, I need you to get help for Penelope. Run to Dr. Collier. Get him or anyone else. Can you manage that?

You got it, Talisman. I won’t let you down this time.

That’s my girl. I’ve got a witch to hunt. Excuse the pun.
I gave Lola a lick on the nose, then sprinted past Penelope, who now had another helper. Amelia sat on the floor with Penelope’s head in her lap, checking her pulse and swallowing reflexively.

“Hang on, Penelope, I’m right here. Oh no, oh no,” she said, repeating it under her breath, as she swayed even as I sprinted past and made for the door.

She was obviously in a quandary. She could hardly go ahead and call the police. How would she explain the slab, the magical implements, the massive book of spells? Penelope would be outed once and for all.

No, there was only one man to turn to and he was about to get the shock of his life.

Are you coming?

Keep your feathers on. Of course, I’m coming.

So is Christmas. Bianca’s getting away.
Sage’s thought was distant. He was further away, which meant he’d followed my instructions and was tailing her.

I scampered down the stairs and straight out the back door. Gravel and dirt spat up in my wake, clouds of dust rising beneath the fury pads of my paws. I wasn’t about to let this murdering witch get away with… well, murder.

I sprinted for the woods, slipping through a massive hole in the fence and dodging thorny bushes and hopping over low-lying rocks. My keen eyes picked out the obstacles and my nose rose to the scent.

Sage swooped down from above and hooted overhead.
About time!

Lola was down for the count, thanks to your favorite sociopath. She’s up now and headed to fetch Dr. Luke.

You really think that’s the best idea?

It’s that or the cops, feather duster. Which would you prefer? An owner with an alarmed potential lover, or one who’s hunted because she’s the world’s answer to Sabrina?

I quickened my pace, sniffing out Bianca’s horrid perfume.

She probably wore Gloria Vanderbilt perfume. Yack. I had a sensitive nose for perfumes. Fashion and clothes I didn’t get, but smells? Oh yeah, smells were important. Nothing better than the smell of cream and kibble. Or coffee grounds. Or Lola’s oh so pert…

Keep it PG 13, please. Nobody likes to hear about eau de cat.

As opposed to your bird seed odor?

Focus, Talisman.

He was right on that account. Bianca was close. I could just make out the crash of feet on leaves, the curses as she bumped into trees and branches. Served her right.

We swept into the darkened woods, gaining our advantage.

What’s the plan?
Bianca might not be able to understand our verbal communication, but she’d still hear it coming. Sage hadn’t witnessed the almost murder scene so he still had his wits about him. He could come up with a strategy.

Isn’t it obvious? We peck and scratch her into submission. Anything to delay her. Then we’ve got to detain one of the other witches. The same treatment we gave Stout. It was enough to get him to turn tail and run.

Yeah, but Stout’s a dipshit lawyer. He doesn’t have any otherworldly powers. Like the witchy witcherton we’re following.

I’m not saying it’s a flawless plan. Sage thought, haughtily. But I’m open to suggestions, Mr. Wise Cat.

I didn’t have any suggestions, so I kept my doubts to myself. We ran, driven by anger at what Bianca had tried to do to Penelope. Our Penelope, who cared for us, fed us and loved us, even when some of us happened to cough up fur balls on her favorite pair of shoes.

Sage split from me and took to the canopy.

I hopped between trees, sniffing out the witch.

There. She’s down here, Sage.

On it.

I rounded a tree and stared at Bianca. She was limping now, probably banged her knee against something in the dark, and she had her palm flat against her chest. Whatever spell Penelope had cast, it was probably the only bad one she’d ever known. No one up until now had ever been brave enough to get into it with the Chokecherrys.

I cast my thoughts back to the Book of Shadows and wracked my brain for an answer. The only negative spell in that book, the only negative spell any DeLacroix had ever owned, was defensive.

A stunning spell! Sage, she should be slower than usual because of Penelope’s casting of the stunning spell. I’m surprised she hasn’t stiffened like a discount store mannequin.

Granted, Penelope’s spells hadn’t exactly worked out of late, but that was probably why Bianca hadn’t fainted.

Chokecherry gripped a nearby tree, digging her fingers into the bark.

The world was colored grey at night for me, I could pick out everything in stark detail. Including the hulking figure in the cloak, creeping toward Bianca from behind.

Who the hell is that?
Sage asked, alarmed.

No idea. But the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Right?

Fine. But Elias Stout is an exception.

He’s the exception to every rule, that one.
I crept forward, keeping myself low, so the new guy wouldn’t notice me.

Except the new guy wasn’t fooled. The shrouded figure turned its head and glanced at me. The circle of the hood revealed a face.

Dagda Cerridwyn.

It’s okay, it’s Dagda.
I sent to Sage, immediately.

What, the old crone?

Probably best to avoid name calling, even in our thoughts. I think Dagda’s about to save our butts, and Penelope’s too.

Indeed, Dagda crept up on Bianca. She laid a hand on the evil witch’s shoulder and dug her fingers in.

Attack!
Sage called.

We converged on Bianca Chokecherry with everything we had. Claws extended, talons out. Dagda Cerridwyn knocked her on the head with a broomstick. A mini-broomstick, what a cliché.

Bianca yelped and gripped the top of her head, trying to shield herself from our attacks.

I clawed her knee and she went down, grabbing it.

“What the hell?”

“Stop,” Dagda said, to Sage and me. We followed her orders.

“Who the hell are you?” Bianca squeaked, quaking in the aftermath of our attack. Damn straight. She’d better quake. An eight on the Richter scale.

Dagda took her hood off and revealed her wrinkled skin and that wart on her nose. I turned away. The woman could have been a case on the E! Network’s Botched.

Bianca’s expression contorted from fear to sick fascination.

“I am Dagda Cerridwyn.”

Bianca was a silent for a while. Finally, she opened her mouth and said, “Who?”