Witch's Guide to a Magical Life Read online

  “Caring? Concerned? Willing to sacrifice themselves and their magic to save your witch protectress ass?” Elenora suggested.

  “Actually, I was going to say they were lame,” Carol admitted, biting her lip again. “And those clothes… those ugly brown and gray robes… I couldn’t look at them every day. I just couldn’t.”

  “Carol, you need to be reasonable about the warlocks. Their offer of magical protection should exclude them from having to appeal to your fashion sense. And Hildy’s right, you know. The 80s are long gone.”

  Carol grunted in rebellion as she frowned. “Now you’re just being mean. Okay. Fine. I’ll hire a new warlock posse. That can’t be the reason Ahmed didn’t tell me his good news. What are you two keeping from me?”

  Sighing a little doggy sigh, Ahmed rose to all fours then changed into himself—half man and half ethereal smoke—before letting the rest of his human form finally materialize. “It is true what the Jezibaba told you. I said nothing because I don’t want to leave you.”

  Carol giggled at the sexy declaration. Her yipping dog familiar had a very sexy man voice when human. Her assessing gaze raked the sleek man candy standing in all his shirtless glory right in her very own living room. Ahmed, in his human form, was a lean and buff male with taut muscles, smooth tanned skin, and chocolate eyes. He contrasted nicely with the blonde-haired fitness guru look she currently favored. His djinn power twinkled like stars in his gaze as he stared back at her. She felt the butterflies in her stomach start to flutter their wings.

  “What are you wearing?” Carol asked, pointing to his clothes.

  Ahmed wore some male version of harem pants, which was a little off-putting, but Carol had no problem at all imagining him in tight jeans and a white t-shirt.

  And that sexy voice of his? It was to die for. Her instincts had been spot on about how incredible her familiar was going to be in human form.

  “It is traditional djinn dress. I hope it pleases you.”

  Carol barely stifled a soft sigh of pleasure as Ahmed walked a bit closer to her. Her head spun with lusty possibilities that she probably shouldn’t be thinking in front of a woman who was practically her mother.

  “Elenora is regrettably right, Carol. I’m ashamed that my courage chose to fail me in this matter. I had forgotten you were to be my last assignment. I had forgotten our time together would one day end. These last few years have flown by without my notice.”

  Carol used a hand and pushed on one his firm shoulders. “Dude—why are you talking like you’re gone already? Nobody’s running you off, especially not me.” She waved a hand up and down him. “You look even better in person than that one time I saw you in the djinn mist.”

  Ahmed smiled weakly at the memory and bowed his head. “Thank you for your kind words. Your admiration of my human form means the world to me. It’s also part of my dilemma.”

  Carol closed the distance between them and looked up at him when Ahmed raised his gaze to hers again. Her djinn familiar was a lot taller in human form than she’d imagined he’d be. As a female, she wasn’t Elenora tall, but she wasn’t as short as Hildy either. Having to tilt her head so far back to look up at a male was a somewhat unusual occurrence for her.

  “Seriously, Ahmed. You can stay as long as you want, even if you’re not my familiar.”

  “No, Carol. Ahmed can’t stay. His reprieve is over. He needs to return home.”

  Carol turned to look at Elenora and found her mentor with a pained expression on her face. When Elenora shook her head, Carol swallowed past a lump in her throat. It had been quite a while since anything had rendered her speechless.

  She turned back to her equally pained-looking familiar. “Why can’t you stay with me?”

  Ahmed lifted both shoulders. “Because I am betrothed. Ibarra has been waiting patiently for me to finish my service to you. I admit I am duty bound to keep my father’s promise to her father. We are to join our djinn houses. This is my destiny.”

  Carol’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Wait… so… you’re engaged to be married to a woman you’re not in love with?”

  “It is not a matter of love. My nuptials were arranged when I was born. When I came of age to take a wife, I rebelled against the arrangement. I am fond of Ibarra, but I barely know her. I was consumed by panic at the thought of tying myself to someone for eternity.”

  Ahmed swept into his usual dog form and then back to his human form in a blink.

  “When I sought a reprieve, Mother Gaia answered my request by making me a witch’s familiar. She gave me one century and assigned my care to the witch protectress. The Jezibaba’s reputation was unquestionable. My father accepted her alleged sentencing of me as something that had to be honored. I have been having a reprieve.”

  “Wow. And you couldn’t tell me any of this before now because you couldn’t speak,” Carol said, guessing the rest.

  “No. I could not tell you. And there was Iren. Later there were others—many others—who held your interest for a time. Yet no male lasted with you, which made me consider whether I could postpone my destiny a bit longer. I could tell you were searching for a mate who would understand and support you.”

  “I guess it was something like that,” Carol admitted. She’d actually been looking for a male to make her forget how wonderful Iren had been to her. So far, no male had accepted her like her first love had. She ran a trembling hand through her messy hair. “Wow… so you’re engaged. Wow. That’s really unexpected.”

  They’d both been sort of waiting for him to be able to change to human. Carol was guilty of having a few fantasies. Obviously, Ahmed could never be the one male who’d always be there for her. His betrothal was her situation with Iren happening all over again.

  Losing Iren had been awful, but she well-understood obligation and duty. Because of that, she’d worked on accepting that she and Iren weren’t meant to last as a couple. Maybe she’d made it look like he’d been quickly forgotten by her, but he hadn’t been. Her saving grace in letting go was that Carol could tell Iren’s fairy princess had adored him even more than she had.

  Why was it that all the best males were committed to other women? Was anyone ever going to be committed to her that way? Feeling sorry for herself and fighting not to show such weakness, she looked over at Elenora. “Why didn’t you tell me before today? You could have warned me about Ahmed’s personal situation.”

  “I could have, but it wasn’t my story to tell. It was his, and I assumed he would share it since you’re so close,” Elenora said, pointing to Ahmed before looking back at Carol. “And I did warn you not to get attached to any male. Ahmed was included in that warning.”

  Since she couldn’t argue with that logic, Carol nodded before sighing in resignation.

  The Jezibaba had warned both her and Hildy not to get attached to any male until they were sure of their own power and purpose. The first love and lust a woman felt for a new lover could be used to manipulate the role of witch protectress. Many had tried to do so in Elenora’s long service.

  Hildy became immune to other males once Chuck had wedged himself firmly into her life. Unfortunately, no one had ever explained to Carol how to give up a male she loved without getting her heart broken. She and Hildy had both concluded that avoiding romantic pain simply wasn’t possible for any female.

  “I’m genuinely sorry things have worked out this way, Carol. I knew you had a lot going on, so I thought it best to deliver the news myself in case Ahmed lost his nerve,” Elenora said softly. “Morgana will no doubt be by for a visit soon as well. She’s arranging for a new familiar for you.”

  Lifting one shoulder in a shrug instead of raising her middle finger like she wanted to do, Carol forced a small smile to her mouth. “I guess I should say thanks for the reality check. I’m sure I’ll be fine eventually. At the moment, I need a shower and a decent meal to feel normal again.”

  Elenora nodded. “Do I have your word about putting together your warlock posse?”
/>   Accepting there was no way out of it this time, Carol nodded to that as well. “I’ll start interviewing warlocks tomorrow.”

  “Witch’s honor?” Elenora asked.

  Carol’s mouth twisted. The witch who’d trained her was no dummy. “Witch’s honor.”

  “Good,” Elenora said in relief as she smiled. “Let me know if you need my help. I did pretty well, picking mine.”

  “I will definitely call if I have questions,” Carol promised, watching as her second mother, mentor, and now mental torturer magically poofed away.

  She turned and looked once more at the gorgeous man standing in her living room. He’d been there all along, and she’d had no idea what was in front of her. Now she did know, and it wasn’t fair. But then most of life wasn’t fair.

  “I’m going to take a shower and then we’re going to have dinner and talk,” Carol said stiffly.

  Ahmed nodded. “As you wish. You can send your helpers away now. I’ll finish their cleanup.”

  Carol shrugged and pulled the wand out of its holster again. She shot a stream of yellow magic toward her kitchen and recanted the spell. Moments later her house filled with the braying of three confused donkeys and the croaking of some hopping mad toads.

  “You can go now. Thank you for coming,” Carol yelled toward the creatures in her kitchen.

  Then she turned on her heels and stomped away to her bedroom with Ahmed making his pained face again.

  Her head was pounding. Her stomach was in knots. And once again her world was turning upside down without warning. Like this job wasn’t already hard enough?

  Soon she’d have to deal with Ahmed leaving. Who was going to share her love of 80s fashion and music? Who was going to watch the Flashdance movie with her? Listen to disco music with her?

  Thinking of Hildy’s favorite outfit when they were in high school, Carol decided she needed some Cindy Lauper pink netting—stat.

  And maybe some Bee Gees music to mend her broken heart.

  3

  Carol had barely finished her shower before she was summoned to the jail. Getting to eat wasn’t happening. The helpline tugged on her energy too much to do anything but obey it.

  She crossed her arms and leaned against a desk to have something to do while she made herself listen. The keeper of the magical pokey was a shriveled warlock of undetermined age and origin. Sir Grumpus, as he liked to be addressed, had served the Jezibaba’s predecessor and been appointed to his post so long ago that no one remembered when he’d started doing it.

  All Carol knew for certain was that the ancient warlock had served during all the years of the Jezibaba’s tenure as witch protectress and now she was stuck with him as well. Maybe he’d outlast her. Who knew?

  Carol wasn’t sure she trusted Sir Grumpus completely, but the man did keep the place going without her constant intervention. Well, most of the time. “If I don’t get food soon, things are not going to go well for the people around me. Do you understand me, Sir Grumpus?”

  “What I understand from your tapping foot and crossed arms is that you’re being impatient. Do you understand me, Baba Yaga? Someone came here and cast a sleeping spell that took down all the guards of this place and me. I have a charm against sleep spells and nearly every other spell. Plus, there are layers and layers of wards to prevent evil magicals from getting inside here. I don’t know how the fire-breather managed to perform a spell so complex not to mention powerful.”

  “Fire-breather? Are you sure he was a dragon? Did you see him flying in dragon form with your own eyes or did you use second sight?”

  “I know a dragon when I encounter one, Baba Yaga—human form or as their beast. The dragon could have let everyone incarcerated go if he’d been inclined to do so. How much trouble do you think an empty jail would have caused you? I’m sure it would have been more than one dinner’s worth.”

  Carol barely managed not to roll her eyes even though the man did have a point. “And you say the dragon only freed the council members from prison? No one else?”

  When the ancient warlock nodded, Carol frowned harder. Her stomach rumbled, making hunger noises.

  Sir Grumpus drew in a shocked breath. “Listen… the beast is returning. Do you hear him roaring in the distance?”

  When the old geezer rushed to the window and checked the sky, Carol smirked and rubbed her loudly talking tummy.

  Before she’d left her house, her personal djinn had gone to Italy to bring her back a pizza. She was so looking forward to all those tomatoes and fresh mozzarella. She was so not looking forward to losing Ahmed, who had gotten very good at knowing how to take care of her.

  Angry at life, she glared at the shriveled warlock. “That was my stomach growling. I warned you I was hungry.”

  Sir Grumpus lifted an eyebrow. “The Jezibaba never had a problem being hungry.”

  Carol hung her head and sighed. Sir Grumpus seemed to delight in making her feel both inept and a lesser witch protectress. His attitude would have bothered her if the Jezibaba hadn’t warned her that the old fart had done the same to her.

  “The Jezibaba is now Elenora the Dragoness which is just one of the many reasons that I can’t go accusing dragonkind just because you think you saw one here. Dragons, for the most part, are not magical creatures. There aren’t that many of them who are trained in the magical arts.”

  Sir Grumpus crossed his arms. “The one you tossed to the demons was a magically trained dragon. And wasn’t he trained by the Jezibaba’s dragon mate who’s also trained? That’s two full dragons trained in magic. Is that enough to disprove your argument? How many more do I need to name? I didn’t bother listing the Jezibaba herself because the dragons now claim her as one of their own.”

  Carol rolled her eyes as she paced around his dungeon of an office. She was so hungry she couldn’t think clearly. She had hangry emotions instead of calm ones bouncing around inside her. “I should have just killed the council members when I had the chance. Then we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

  “Agreed. They tried to kill you and the Jezibaba. Mere confinement was too good for them. They deserved to be tossed to the demons as well.”

  Carol snickered and did a double take. “Bloodthirsty much? I know why I think that way about them. Why do you?” She watched him straighten up to be as tall as he could. It was awful of her, but the lack of result made her laugh. The bloodthirsty man was bent with age. No amount of firm resolve was going to straighten him.

  “A world with no witch protectress would allow all magicals to use their magic any way they wanted. There are many who would pay any price to take your Baba Yaga power away. That’s why I chose to continue my service even when a witch of your young and foolish age was chosen to serve. You have much to learn, Baba Yaga. The consolation I cling to is that you’re not as reckless as your predecessor.”

  “Reckless? You thought the Jezibaba was reckless?” Carol repeated, feeling her mouth lift at each corner as she wondered what Elenora would have to say about his criticism of her.

  She studied Sir Grumpus as he solemnly nodded. Hildy would have been all up in the warlock’s shit for daring to say anything negative about the woman who’d mentored and protected them. Having done the job for a few years, Carol now knew precisely why Elenora was as tough as she was. Being reckless, daring, and fearing nothing was a freaking requirement for any witch protectress who wanted to continue living.

  Carol smirked as she glared at him. “Here’s what I know. One person’s recklessness is another’s bravery.”

  “Certainly, bravery has its place, but your predecessor led with her heart instead of her head. Anger often ruled her, and it got her into a lot of trouble. I can understand why the goddess chose the Jezibaba—no one was more clever or determined or persistent—but now she’s become a dragon. What in bloody hell is next? Does the former witch protectress aspire to become a goddess as well? Her arrogance seems to know no boundaries.”

  “Funny you say that because the g
oddess thing could actually happen one day. In case you haven’t heard the news, Elenora the Dragoness is part of the horde belonging to The One.” Carol laughed when Sir Grumpus rolled his eyes at her words. “How can you roll your eyes at the Father of All Dragons? He’s legendary.”

  “I do so the same way you roll your eyes at me. I may be old, girl, but I’m not stupid.”

  Carol coughed to stifle more laughter. He was sassy—she’d give him points for that. She was even starting to like the old fart but didn’t want him to know it yet. “I don’t think you’re in the least bit stupid, Sir Grumpus. I just don’t like most warlocks.”

  Sir Grumpus made a grunting noise as he glared. “No witch protectress ever has. Luckily for you, honorable warlocks would never allow your disdain of their service to affect their work. I’m sure the Baba Yaga’s warlocks are as dedicated and caring as the Jezibaba’s were.”

  “Uh…” Carol said, twisting her hair as she tried to formulate a real response.

  Sir Grumpus grinned at her, and his face wrinkled beyond what seemed humanly possible. The ancient warlock looked like a Shar-Pei version of the Grim Reaper. He was utterly hideous, and Carol found she couldn’t look away.

  “Everyone’s heard that you fired the Jezibaba’s warlocks, you know,” he told her. “You’re going to need a miracle to get volunteers now. Your chance to have the best of the best has passed.”

  Blowing out a breath, Carol contemplated the ceiling. “I realize now that I messed up letting the warlocks go. Shit happens.”

  “Yes, you did. However…” Sir Grumpus paused and bowed his head. When he raised it, the grin was even wider. “It was probably a good move on your part. I think you’re going to need warlocks with a more unique approach to magic than your predecessor.”

  Carol chuckled. Was he damning her or trying to tell her something? It was like he was speaking in old fart code or something. She wished Zenos was here. He spoke like that too sometimes.

  “I feel like you’re hinting at something. Since I’m a direct person, I’m going to order you just to spit out what you’re trying to say. I don’t have times for games.”