Mathilda, SuperWitch (38 page)

She was crystal gazing when I walked in.

“We’ve got an unwelcome houseguest,” I told her.

“Don’t let your emotion override your intuition, diddums,” she warned.

Diddums.

Mavis.

Yeesh.

Even with the warning, she got up and we went together to find Althea who was reclining on the couch in the Plush Parlor watching
50 First Dates
.

“That Adam Sandler,” she said when we walked in, “he’s a charmer.”

Oh for goddess’s sakes.

Obviously she hadn’t seen
The Longest Yard
.

“Althea, you have a choice,” I launched right in, “either Ash can escort you back to your cottage today or you can sober up and start to work for your keep in The Dozen.”

She stared at me, her eyes narrowed.

“Your choice,” I said.

Mavis stood next to me, her arms crossed on her ample bosoms.

“I didn’t ask to come here,” Althea pointed out.

“No, you didn’t. My bad. I’m sorry. Now you can go home.”

I left, went to the door of The Dungeons and pounded.

Althea joined me in the hall, Mavis trailing her.

“Girl, you’re a nutter, you know that?” Althea said to me.

I banged on the doors louder.

“Ash!” I shouted.

“Don’t!” Althea stopped me. “Okay, I’ll work for my keep.”

That surprised me.

“But, you have to get some of my things, clothes, shoes… I’m tired of this borrowed stuff.” She pointed to Octavia’s castoff sundress that she was wearing, which was, quite rightly, not very attractive.

“You make a list, we’ll send someone to get it,” I told her. “False alarm!” I shouted at The Dungeon door.

“Why don’t you want to go back, Althea?” Mavis asked softly.

See? Good cop, bad cop.

Or in this case, good witch, bad witch.

I put my hands on my hips and waited.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Althea replied, resignation in her voice. “That one may be a nutter,” she jerked a thumb at me (nice), “but Agatha Darling is far loonier.”

“And, how exactly is Agatha loonier?” Mavis asked.

The door to The Dungeon opened; Ash came out and stood behind me.

Close behind me.

Althea blanched.

I can’t imagine why. I looked at him over my shoulder and he looked better than ever in a white t-shirt and faded jeans.

And he smelled
divine
.

“Girl, you are the most boy-crazy female I’ve ever met,” Althea announced and turned to Ash. “You should bed her so she’ll quit running around like a –”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Ash warned in a chilly voice.

Althea snapped her mouth shut.

“How is Agatha loonier?” Mavis persevered.

Althea looked at Mavis then she looked at me then at Ash.

Then she sighed.

The she spoke. “That witch chose the wrong path years ago. I tried to warn her but she wouldn’t listen.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, muttering almost as if to herself. “I can’t abide a dark witch.”

“And the rest of the coven?” Mavis prodded.

“Some chose her path; some didn’t but were afraid to go against the High Priestess of a coven as fierce as Edwards. Her power is fearful, even when she isn’t using manmade implements. And her wrath is worse.”

“And you? What did you chose?” I asked.

Althea shook her head, clearly struggling with something.

And then, right in front of our eyes, she deflated.

All of her irritating bravado, gone in an instant.

It was a dreadful thing to witness.

“I tried to warn her. She wouldn’t listen,” Althea admitted softly and leaned against the wall. “And she didn’t like it, what I had to say. We rowed, often. I tried to take over the coven. It didn’t work. They held the ceremony. I was too old, too weak, too sick. I couldn’t fight them.”

“What ceremony?” I asked.

Mavis put her hand on Althea’s arm.

“They’ve stripped you of your magic, haven’t they?” Mavis whispered.

To my disbelief, tears came to Althea’s eyes and she nodded.

What?

Oh Great Goddess.

Stripped of magic, I’ve never heard of such a thing!

How cruel!

How scary!

How just plain, old mean!

“I thought as much,” Mavis muttered.

“And the sight. They took that too,” Althea went on.

Holy crap.

“But, the other day, you spoke in my head… you –” I started.

“That wasn’t magic, Mathilda. That was mind games. Anyone can do that with enough practice and I have over a hundred and fifty years of it,” Althea answered.

I looked at Ash who looked at me. He raised his brow.

I reckoned I shouldn’t believe her but I did.

And I felt sorry for her.

“We’ll keep you safe, dear. Don’t you worry,” Mavis promised and led the old witch away while Ash and I watched.

“Do you believe her?” I asked Ash.

“Yes,” he replied, took one last look at the pair of witches as they disappeared and then he went back to The Dungeons.

I headed to my Tower Room. I needed to research this ceremony business.

I also needed to find out if there was a way to get her power back.

I figured we were going to need it.

* * * * *

The Gathering:

Unfortunately, I had to fly to The Gathering. It was tradition and not negotiable (and I’d already bucked tradition in so many other ways that I felt I should pick my battles).

The few broomstick lessons I’d had up to that point had not gone so well. But, I must say that Gran was a somewhat impatient teacher.

Viv took over after Gran and she wasn’t much better.

It wasn’t until lessons with Su that I really caught on.

But I was still a little unsteady doing sidesaddle (would prefer to go with a straddle but that wasn’t an option, especially when going to a Gathering).

We flew, all of us, with Althea on the back of Viv’s broom, to the standing stones at Avebury.

All the tourists went to Stonehenge.

Spinal Tap even wrote a song about Stonehenge.

But Avebury was much better.

Much bigger.

And far more magical.

And you could walk amongst the stones, touch them and they just hummed with history and power.

I loved Avebury.

Anyhoo.

Some bright spark had built a village smack in the middle of the stone circle centuries ago so The Gatherings had to move out of the circles and down to the end of the Avenue.

By the time we’d landed, everyone was there forming an occult circle and watching us approach.

I must say I was surprised at how unsurprising everyone looked. It was all very…
Hollywood
.

On my first look at the troll and goblin, I had to wonder if Peter Jackson was magical, they were very
Lord of the Rings
(except the troll was shorter and less stupid-looking and the orc-y goblin had little flightless wings).

There was one goatee’ed magus, floating about three feet from the ground on a magic carpet.

The banshee had radiant white hair and lots of it with robes so close to the same color you didn’t know where the hair stopped and the robes started. The robes and hair flowed so much, even standing still, there had to be magical, invisible fans blowing at her. She also had bright blue eyes just like the freaky school kids in Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” video.

There was a vampire, slightly older than the dude at The Hobgoblin but no less pale and lanky. He leaned against a standing stone, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, watching us (me?) from under his brows. Regardless of his paleness and thinness, he was sexy as hell.

The wizard had dark gray-brown robes and a pointy hat that had flopped over to the side.

The werewolf man had stretch marks and a visible bad attitude.

There were two faerie elves weaving around and leaving lemon and peach contrails.

And the sorcerer’s soft, lavender robes shone with sparkly quarter moons and stars.

The sorceress, now she was something. Supermodel gorgeous with long, straighter-than-straight white-blonde hair and pale blue robes with the sparkly moons and stars. She was wearing this kickass jeweled, large-weave skull cap that had this lush, aquamarine teardrop hanging down the center of her forehead.

Fab.

Dr. Bennett was there and he gave me a little nod, and if I saw correctly, a wink.

There was another man who was older and very handsome and he stared at me and only me in a broody way that seemed very familiar. He had to be the Elder from Le Société de Mathilde.

Once Althea and the Honeycutts joined The Gathering, Prunella, the Hag, began the proceedings by stepping to the center of our little circle and lifting her wand.

Out of nowhere, a gleaming white unicorn materialized, all beam-me-up Scotty sparkles and My Favorite Pony glitter – immediately touching the point of his horn to Prunella’s wand as the two fairies buzzed in like the Red Arrows doing a double flyby and then – blam!

The firework exploded, going wide and high and the pixie dust fell in a perfect circle around us. The ground started rumbling and then huge, buried stones rose up, breaking through the turf, grass and dirt flying everywhere and forming a mini-circular amphitheater.

Great Mother Earth, wind and fire, it was cool.

The Hag, the Unicorn and a see-through man in an old-fashioned suit who was surrounded by a weird mist walked into the center of the amphitheater.

The Gathering had begun.

And that was as exciting as it got.

I kid you not.

You know how they show those photos of people at the UN or in Congress having a snooze? Head resting on their hand, elbow resting on the table, mouth open, eyes closed?

Do you want to know why?

Because government is boring.

Boring.

Boring.

Ho-fucking-hum.

Blah, blah and more blah.

Everyone talking a lot.

And no one saying a damn thing.

There I was, past midnight, at the end of a magical avenue of standing stones, sitting in a long-undiscovered, enchanted amphitheater surrounded by supernatural beings and I fell asleep.

“Mathilda Guinevere Honeycutt!”

My name rang in my ears.

Oops.

Viv, who was sitting beside me, nudged me.

I opened my eyes.

Everyone was staring at me.

“Are you very tired, Mistress Honeycutt?” Endora, the Lady, asked.

“Er…” I answered.

Yikes, shades of yesteryear and chemistry class.

“Is there something else you’d rather be doing, Mistress Honeycutt?” The Lady went on, kinda snottily.

“Um…” I answered.

“Come forward.” That was Prunella, the Hag, still standing in the middle with the Unicorn and the ghost of the Headless Horseman. The banshee must have had the floor because she was also in the middle but at my approach, she floated to the side and sat down (or more like, hovered over a stone seat while her hair and robes blew in non-existent wind).

The Lady was standing on the lowest stone of the circle of seats, staring daggers at me.

I decided that I didn’t like Endora Eccles much. She was kind of a bitch.

I walked into the middle.

“Today’s proceedings are very important, Mistress Honeycutt,” Prunella told me when I arrived. “We haven’t had a Gathering –”

“I know,” I interrupted, “since the Vampyre Mutiny of 1962.”

Prunella pursed her lips.

“
Can I ask,” Endora called from her place at the side, “what Mistress Honeycutt
is wearing?
”

I’d expected this. I was supposed to be wearing the witch’s uniform, all pointy hats, ripped skirts and red and white striped tights, etcetera.

Not… gonna… happen.

I’d rather be dead and it took a lot for me to say that in my current life circumstances.

I’d ditched the striped tights and replaced them with fishnets. I cut off the ragged edges of the skirt and the bells of the sleeves and hemmed them. I pulled out the laces of the bodice and added some strategic double-sided tape in the cleavage area. And the piece de resistance was a pair of black, patent-leather Manolo Blahnik mary janes.