The Final Catch: Book 2: See Jane Hex (The Tarot Sorceress Series) (6 page)

I used my freed toes to try and loosen the other ankle tie, but that didn’t seem to be working. If only I hadn’t trimmed my toes nails, a long one might have set me free.  I tried aligning things, once again, but I couldn’t get that gut feel.  I tried the spell anyway but it didn’t work. While I struggled I heard the knob on the door being tested. Devon had locked the room before he left, but it sounded to me as if someone used a key.

“Uuufferrrhhellmmme.
Who’s
there? Help. Help me. Devon’s got me tied up in here
!” But all that muffled yelling was useless because I still had the sock in my mouth. Then the door opened and I didn’t know who the hell the guy was standing there. It was too dark to see.

“Uhhhmmmbbffffmmm.
Uh, I’m busy at the moment. Come back later
,” I tried to say, thinking this was one of Devon’s street friends looking for a place to crash.

“Deliciously delighted to find you still tied to the bed,” said the mysterious man.

“UUooaaallphrg.
Who the hell are you
?” I asked, as politely as I could, knowing he didn’t understand a word. He stepped out of the shadows and came towards me.

It took a minute to recognize this dude. Malcolm Price the magician! The man my disembodied mind had observed changing the quarterly earnings at the bank.

“Fffrghabblrgh.
If you’re here to rescue me, let’s get on with it
.” He didn’t say anything but stood there like a vampire in his business suit. Then he sat down of the edge of the bed, and I lifted my free leg to kick him away, but he caught it like a short stop on a pop fly. Then he lovingly stroked my leg and worked his soft magician hands up my inner thigh. I pulled my leg away and stomped my heel a few times into the bed. That only stirred up a huge cloud of dust.

“Aaaghafaa –“

He ran his hand up my hip and stopped at my belly to make small circles around my belly button. He lifted my top and kissed my belly piercing. This guy was a lot smoother than Devon. Really, at another and place and time this might have been fun. Malcolm wiggled his fingers, showed me the back of his hand and voila, he turned his palm to me to see that he had my panties balled up  there in the palm of his hand. He was having some fun with me. I’ve never dated a magician. It might be interesting. Then he leaned down close to my sock stuffed mouth and spoke.

“What's that? How did I know you were here? Devon, of course. We made a deal and you're part of it.”

              Devon! I knew this was no rescue party.

Then it was Malcolm’s turn to recognize me. 

“Oh, you're her, from the curio shop, the woman who set me free from the deck, my emancipator. It's not right to--play with you, I think.”

I agreed whole heartedly and nodded profusely to let him know, and of course I tried to speak.

“Argghaph –“ 

“I should free you, as you did me. Then we'll be even. No debts between us.”

Once again, I nodded profusely, but Malcolm wasn’t done.

“I have a confession to make,” he said. I rolled my eyes to try to let him know I wasn’t too interested, but he continued, even under protest.

Arnofonoph --

“I sold my soul to Devon. Now I've got seller's remorse.”

He looked genuinely despondent, but I didn’t trust him. This was another trick. He pulled the sock from my mouth and tucked it up his sleeve like a hankie from a magic trick.

With drool running down my chin, I came out spitting!

“You idiot! Maisie owns your soul. You can't sell it to that bigger idiot.”

              Malcolm looked genuinely relieved.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. Now untie me.” I nodded hard to try and emphasize the fact that he didn’t have anything to worry about from Devon, at least not in the soul department. Then Malcolm looked like he was not so sure that what I told him was the case.

“Untie you?” he asked.

“Yes! Untie me.”

“Make me a better offer.”

“Then what?” I practically yelled.

“Then Devon.”

I had no idea what these two had cooked up. Now I had to make a better offer then Devon’s!

“Ohmygod. Look, I'll date you for awhile. We can get to know each other, you know, like a real couple. That’s my offer.”

Malcolm actually thought about this for a moment and even more surprising --

“Sounds good,” he said.  He’d accepted my offer.

“The ropes, please.”

“That your best offer?” he countered.

I held back my exploding annoyance and frustration with the situation and said, “That's it. All I got at the moment.”

Malcolm paused and stared hungrily at my crotch.

“Alright,” I said, “I've got a few kinky things back at my place, too. We can play with those.”

That seemed to do the trick. Malcolm gave me a sly grin. He untied the ropes at my wrists and ankles carefully lining up the small bits of rope on the bed. He ran the loosened ties through his hands and between his fingers, and I felt my old shuttering surge building inside me. I wanted to desperately to chew my lip, but I knew if I did that I be releasing some kind of power for which I had no idea of the consequences, yet Malcolm’s need to organize and tidy that twine made my energy rise. Suddenly, the four pieces became one long strand in his hand. He folded the rope neatly and put it in his briefcase.

I felt my need to sneeze ease up. But my need to pee did not.

I pretended not to notice what Malcolm was doing and rubbed my wrists. They really needed some healing because that twine had rubbed them raw. Malcolm opened his brief case to get a business card with his number. I saw his magician’s cape all crammed inside. “Here's my card.” I took his offered card. I half expected it to disappear before I got my hands on it. Then I remembered Devon’s backpack with my purse inside of it and the fact that I really had to pee.

“Do you see my purse?” I asked. He looked around the room and this distracted him long enough for me to get to the backpack and dig out my bag.

Inside I found one of my little cans of magic hairspray. “Here’s my card,” I said. When he turned around to me, I gave him a little zap of the hairspray. I meant to douse his hair; instead I accidentally sprayed him in the eyes!

He was too tall!

Boy, did he scream! And he couldn’t open his eyes.  I actually felt kinda sorry for the guy, but hey, this was the man who, only moments ago, was going to take advantage of me and only let me go because I’d promised him he could take advantage of me later. 

I had to do some duck and cover because Malcolm was going berserk. He was trying to grab me but couldn’t tell where I was. I saw him listening carefully to hear where I might be, but then his eyes would sting and he’d yell and hit something.

“You stupid effing bitch. I'm gonna kill you.”

“I'm sorry, sorry. I wanted to fix your hair. You look beautiful. Look in a mirror and see what a dude you are.” I should have kept my mouth shut.  I was hoping the spell in the spray still worked even though I’d accidentally shot him in the eyes.

It didn’t.

Malcolm felt around for his briefcase and found it. He flipped it open and pulled out the crumpled up cape. It was huge, like the sheet for a king size bed, even bigger. He snapped it open and spun it around expertly, like a toreador's cape.

The spinning, snapping cape made a wonderful sound, like the vibrating wings of a dragonfly dive bombing my ear. It also had its own light show, as if Malcolm was shaking out hundreds of lightning bugs that were trapped in its folds. The cape was mesmerizing as tried to trap me within it. I think he wanted to toss it over me.

All his whirling and swirling with the cape did something to the room because I began to feel ill. I doubled over in agony. I wanted to vomit, but I hadn’t eaten a thing in ages, and all I managed to make was a dry gack in the back of my throat.

The heaves took over.

“What've you done?” But he never answered my question. I felt hot and sweat beaded on my forehead. I hated the way I felt. I doubled over until my nose practically touched the ground. My knees gave out and I collapsed to the floor. My fingers and toes balled up and I knew I was in trouble.

Malcolm had done something nasty to me.

It took awhile to figure out what exactly he’d done, but I knew I was changing, transformed into something hideous. When I realized that I was becoming one of the things I most hated, it was too late for me to scream.

Malcolm had changed me into a spider, but not any spider, a big one, a tarantula and I thought he intended for me to be his pet.

Wrong again.

He made me big to make it easier for him to find me. Malcolm stomped the floor viciously.

“I'm gonna kick your guts out, you crazy witch.”

The only thing to do was leap on to his pant leg and cling like crazy. It was the only safe place for me.  All eight of my eyes opened wide as I swung wildly around on the hem of his pants.

*

Much, much later, over coffee and chai tea Emilia told me that while I became a spider, she had her own predicament. According to her, Officer Day started to drive a handcuffed Emilia back to the police station. Emilia sat quietly in the back seat of the police car.

Well, almost quietly.

“Where we going?” she asked.

“To the station – “

“You like being a cop?”

At that precise moment Justine spotted Malcolm stumbling blindly outside of the house where Devon lived. I didn’t know it at the time but even while blinded by the hairspray, Malcolm had managed to find my Gucci and carry it out of the building; apparently he had the money filled purse hanging from his arm.  Why he clung to it, I’ll never know. Maybe he thought if I got away he’d find my I.D. and then me.

According to accounts, Justine hadn’t noticed Malcolm right away but when she did she took immediate action. “What the...?  Oh, he's gotta be drunk.”

Then, according to Emilia, who concurred with Justine’s assessment of the magician, Malcolm tried to make his way from the house to the curb where his car was parked. He staggered, fumbled, tripped and fell. Justine couldn’t wait to get him to walk a straight line. I didn’t notice Justine or her car, or even remembered that Emilia had been arrested and was nearby.

All through my spider body I felt the vibrations of Malcolm’s stumbles and then of Justine’s police car as she zipped over to us.  I heard the door open and I saw eight Justine’s, with game face on, step out of the car and race over to Malcolm for the arrest. I scurried around to the back of his pant leg where I wouldn’t be so obvious.

I didn’t know how Justine felt about large spiders.

“Hold it right there. You're under arrest.”  Her voice seemed really loud.  I didn’t know if it was my spider hearing or if Justine thought he might be deaf as well as drunk. Malcolm ignored the cop’s first warning and attempted to step around the rather tall and muscle packed officer. I’d seen Devon make the same avoidance mistake back at the Koldwell bank robbery, and I knew we were headed for a tumble.  I tried to find a safe spot. Malcolm had his car keys out, and they caught the sunlight and twinkled.

“Hey, lady, I'm blind. What? Is it against the law to feel my way around?”

“You're drunk.”

“That bitch sprayed me with pepper spray.”

“Sir, walk a straight line toward me. Follow the sound of my voice,” she yelled.

“Are you deaf?”

At that point even I heard the click of Justine’s magical handcuffs.  I didn’t know what those handcuffs were capable of, being magical and all, maybe they were only an endless supply for a cop whose life consisted of immobilizing folks, but I was sure glad at the moment that I wasn’t Malcolm.

“Hands behind your back. Give me your keys.”

Malcolm made an about face, and I wanted to shout to him that he was headed for disaster, but all I managed to make was a creepy twittering sound. 

Meanwhile, Malcolm tripped, lost his balance, pitched sideways over a low cement parking barrier and landed at Justine’s feet. My Gucci purse lay ahead of his bleeding head, as if it were an offering to the gods.

“I am not drunk! Malcolm yelled up, sounding desperate.

With one powerful restraining leap, Justine held him down and cuffed him.

She yanked him to his feet and I scuttled up his pant leg, trying to keep out of Justine’s line of sight.  She walked him over to her car, guiding his walk with her voice, opened the door, pushed his head down and shoved him into the back seat beside Emilia, who sat quietly with her hands cuffed behind her back.  It looked like Justine was single handedly going to round up all the majors before I even got started.  I scuttled up to Malcolm’s shoulder and was pleased to see that my purse still hung from his arm, but before I scuttled out of sight again, Emilia began to scream.

She went straight into panic mode and flailed around the tight space of the backseat then performed contortionist moves that allowed her to somehow bring her cuffed hands down under her legs to the forefront of her body. She grabbed at Malcolm’s jacket partially ripping the sleeve from the its join in an attempt to get rid of me.