Mathilda, SuperWitch (42 page)

Aidan’s narrowed eyes narrowed more as they roamed my face. “Are you drunk?”

“Kinda, but Josie was driving.”

That was a lie. I was dead sober. And Josie’s driving was scary, as in scary-slow and granny-like.

“Have you lost your mind? You made your Spellbound your designated driver?” Aidan again demanded to know in a voice that was, again, low.

“Er…” was my answer.

“Why didn’t you tell Wilding or me you were out for the night?” he clipped.

“I did,” I lied.

“You didn’t,” Aidan countered.

Mm.

He was right.

I shrugged then stated, “I’m dead on my feet, Aidan, you wanna let go and give me the third degree in the morning?”

He let me go but he did it less in a way that he was doing as I wished and more in a way that if he didn’t, he might shake me.

Ash watched me over Aidan’s shoulder. He was being annoyed broody (rather than just unhappy broody or broody broody or thoughtful broody, I’d begun to be able to categorize his broodiness) but he didn’t say a word.

I looked from one to the other, waved lamely, said, “‘Night,” and then hightailed it out of there.

See?

Real smooth.

Ack.

They totally knew something was up.

Lying is not for me.

The only way I could figure to get around it was to avoid them.

Until I worked out how
really
to avoid them.

Because I didn’t think I could go through with my part of the plan.

That is, pretend I was still in love with them.

Though I
was
still in love with them but now I was in love with them
and
my heart was breaking.

That was the problem.

It was all too complicated.

So I worked all the time and when I wasn’t working I was creating and researching in my Tower Room, pottering in the greenhouse, trying new recipes in the kitchen, at lessons with one of the coven, sunbathing if there was even the slightest hint of rays to be caught or meditating at my tree.

In the meantime, Su was putting her network of friends to work.

Thank goddess for a quasi-criminal sister.

9 September

Today I was summoned to Mavis’s Magic Room.

“What’s going on?” she asked even before I could grab a custard cream and sit down.

I tried innocence.

“What?”

She didn’t say a word.

“What?” I repeated.

She studied me.

“What?!” This time it was louder.

“You need a vacation. I’ll send you and Ash –”

“No!”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh, well that’s a surprise… you and Aidan then –”

“
No, no, no… I don’t need a vacation.” I had to think fast. “I need a mini-break.” Oo, that’s a good idea. “I need a manicure. A facial. A massage. I need a sauna, a Jacuzzi, at least a swimming pool. I need a Johnny Depp marathon starting with
Edward Scissorhands
and ending with
Pirates of the Caribbean
. That’s the closest I want to come to testosterone for days.”

I’d hit on something believable.

Mavis nodded.

“I see,” she said.

“I want time without magic,” I was on a roll, “without incense up my nose and the War of the Supernatural World breathing down my neck. I want to feel safe without someone watching me every second of the day. Can you do that?”

“I think something can be arranged.”

“Good.”

“Do you want Josie and Rory with you?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see to it,” she decreed.

I’d bought some time.

Shoo.

But now what do I do?

13 September

Am in a lovely spa on the banks of Loch Lomand outside Glasgow (which happens to be birthplace of delicious Gerard Butler (Glasgow that is, not Loch Lomand) so already happy place as any birthplace of hot guy had happy aura attached as everyone knew but hot guy as hot as Gerard Butler meant aura stretched to Loch Lomand and therefore I was rethinking theme of movie marathon I intended to have).

Am also trying to find something for an eight year old boy to do and trying to convince myself that not everyone around me was a secret agent here to watch me and report back or worse, kill me and drag my lifeless body into the lake.

Yes, paranoia had set in. If Aidan and Ash could (potentially) betray me then anyone could be an enemy.

Mavis agreed that I should “spirit away” and not tell Ash or Aidan where I’d gone or they’d want to follow me so she made this so.

Upon turning on my mobile after arriving at the spa, this is what I got:

First ring (Aidan): “What are you playing at?” (This was said somewhat tersely therefore very, very pissed-offedly.)

Second ring (Ash): “Where the hell are you?” Pause while he read my mind. “I’ll be there in two hours.”

Ack!

Obviously location popped into my head and communicated itself via mind-meld.

Mavis must have worked her mojo because they both stayed away (so far, now over the two hour mark and no sign and I was hoping Gerard Butler Happy Aura would keep me safe rather than communicate exact position to his hot guy brethren.)

* * * * *

Now over three hour mark.

Mavis mojo worked.

Whew.

* * * * *

Later:

Had aromatherapy facial all lavenders and bergamots.

Then had this bizarre and wonderful treatment where they put hot stones down my spine.

Then they took away stones and wrapped me like a mummy in lovely smelling stuff.

Then they rubbed down my body with gigantic loofahs and lubed me up with creamy body moisturizer.

Then they sent me back to my room in a terrycloth robe with a towel wrapped around my head, shuffling on my fluffy white slippers like a zombie.

Found bed, fell face first on it and used magic to record this miraculous instant of pure peace and tranquility in my Book of Shadows.

Mm.

Mm.

Must sleep.

14 September

Am free.

Have had nothing but fruits, vegetables, whole grains and lean proteins since arrival yesterday.

Did yoga early morning in large class of women who I hope did not notice Rory and his little friend making fun of us outside the arched windows that give a fabulous view of the lake.

(Rory’s made friends with some woman’s nine year old daughter who was also hanging about moping. Since then, they’ve been thick as thieves and causing mayhem wherever they go. Good times.)

Am healthy and happy and thinking I may give up caffeine and refined sugars for good as am sure I have found inner peace and enlightenment through clean and wholesome living.

* * * * *

Later:

Have had healthy lunch, a wee trek around the Loch and a two hour massage.

Afterwards, sat in sauna with other women and realized they are not all spies or informants, they are my friends and they love me.

Then sat in my room with Josie.

We drank little bottles of Moet et Chandon through straws and watched
Eastenders
together.

Jack Branning.

Mm.

* * * * *

Later:

Am alone in bed after having total Mother of All Breakdowns with Josie.

It was the Moet.

I told her everything about Aidan and Ash and the blood vow of secrecy (secrecy? ha!) and going to Denver.

I told her how I was in love with both men and about their competition and my two Big O’s and what Ash said about liking me.

I told her how I was rubbish at lying to them and how it was going to take weeks, maybe months for us to be able to arrange to get out of the country and into a safe place in Colorado and how I didn’t think I could make it.

Ack!

And I cried and cried (and snorted!) and cried and went through nearly half a box of Kleenex.

She just sat next to me and held my hand then when I kept crying she held me and when I’d settled down, she popped the top off another mini-bottle of Moet and put in a fresh straw and handed it to me.

She patted my arm and said, “Don’t worry, love, I trust you. We’ll get through this.”

That’s it.

Simple faith.

Then we snuggled into the couch and watched
A Nightmare on Elm Street
(Gerard Butler DVDs all checked out (humph) but Johnny Depp was no sloppy seconds, still, although I wanted a Johnny Depp-a-thon, that wasn’t exactly where I wanted to start).

Now almost asleep and feel better than I have in days.

Love Josie.

15 September

Had granola, blueberries and organic Greek yogurt for breakfast.

Had eyebrow, leg and bikini wax and brow and lash dye.

Had French pedicure and manicure with blood red varnish.

Had lunch of blanched asparagus and steamed salmon.

Had highlights retouched and splint ends trimmed.

Did pilates (not sure I get it, yoga much better).

Beginning to wish women around me were plotting and scheming.

Want big, oozing, yeasty cinnamon roll dripping with sugary buttery frosting.

Am bored out of my skull.

Am sick of steamed, blanched, salt-less, personality-less food.

Am not cavewoman or lost on deserted island.

Am missing my cauldron, my magical larder and constant threat of death or possible snogging by cute but treacherous boys.

Ack!

Am psychotic but want old life of danger and mayhem back.

16 September

Had mini-drama as Rory left newfound girlfriend who is off to the wilds of Orkney or somesuch.

Thank goddess (for Rory’s sake) for Facebook and Instant Messenger.

We are going home.

Finally.

19 September

Progress Report:

Cookbook lady has come back to Lucy and me and said not only does she want cookbook, she has been in talks with some British television channel and they may want cookery show called “War of the Wooden Spoons” filmed in Witches Dozen and beamed out to whole British populace with TV license.

Ack!

Me: the New Nigella.

(Or Jamie? Pucka!)

Ack!

Su’s coven has been hard at work.

They’ve found a safe house in Baker’s Historic District in Denver (Yay! Close to Mom’s house!) and started to put protection spells on it (love Baker! close proximity to Mayan Movie Theater – Yay! Independent and foreign films while in hiding. Also close to my old “local” The Hornet. Buffalo chicken salad with bleu cheese dressing. Woo hoo! Oo, how I missed the Mile Hi City!).

As they do not have the power of the Honeycutt Coven, this could take some time but at least they’ve started.

Viv has explained that magic is verboten on flights and in airports and has been for some time (disappointing but understandable).

So, we had a powwow and feel that we need some protection of the muscle-bound type and if she or he were a little magical, well, all the better.

Had to check with Elly and The Prophesies to make certain-sure there was not third A-named man who would vie for my affections, throwing me into confusion and self-hatred when I find he turns on me in bid to control own destiny.

Elly says only two boys so prophesied so not to worry, could find mercenary without concern of future heartbreak.

Ack!

But where to find mercenary?

Where else?

23 September

Met Viv in Paddington Station.

She was (allegedly) at meetings somewhere in London to plan a speaking tour of east England up through Yorkshire.

I was (allegedly) locked up in the Tower Room searching for the Magic-Stealing Spell so I could figure out how to reverse Althea’s condition.

Get this: Viv was wearing a pink, oxford-cloth, button-down shirt, sand-colored chinos, a pink, naval-style belt, pink (Coach, at least) loafers and a pink Alice band in her hair.