Almost Midnight (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3.5)(49)

Staring at her image, she recalled that in the past, the judges—nothing more than old-fashioned biddies—had made negative remarks about her hair and even docked her a few points. Miranda had thumbed her nose at their opinion and fuddy-duddy sense of style.

Now she dropped her chin to her chest in resignation. Her thumbing days were over.

At least for this competition. Because holy hell, she wanted to win. Had to win.

Their opinion could keep her from the thing she wanted more than anything. Paris with Perry. Paris with Perry, and Della and Kylie as her emotional backup.

Closing her eyes, she held out her pinky and whispered, “Hair, color of three, turn back to the color that is just boring ol’ me.”

Opening her eyes, breath held, praying she hadn’t screwed up, she found the streaks were gone. A good sign that maybe her other spells would be just as successful. But seeing herself without her trifecta of color for the first time in two years had her breath hitching in her throat.

A crazy sensation swept over her. Who was she? Without her trademark streaks of color, without Perry, she felt hollow, lacking a sense of self.

A sad thought hit. Was she the type of girl who solely defined herself by her hair color and a boyfriend? Was she that shallow?

Needing a confidence booster, she grabbed her phone off the table to call the person who always seemed to say the right thing. The man who called her angel and never led her to believe she’d let him down. Her daddy.

But right then, another bell rang, giving them a three-minute warning. The Wicca council, standing as judges, was not tolerant of tardiness. You’d either get docked points or thrown out of the competition altogether.

Reaching back into her purse, she pulled out her necklace—her Alchemy absinthe spoon pendant, a wearable token of her Wicca heritage. The triangle-shaped emerald-green Swarovski crystal hung right below her neck and matched her dress perfectly.

“You can do this,” she whispered to the stranger in the mirror and set her phone back down. “You want Perry back, right?”

When the young woman in the mirror didn’t answer right away, she wanted to scream. Now you start doubting?

Standing straight, she cleared her mind. She did want Perry back, didn’t she? The two-minute warning bell rang.

No time to self-analyze, she turned, opened her door, and stepped out. When her feet hit something warm, gooey, and disgusting, she glanced down.

“No!” She’d marched right into a big—seriously big—pile of horseshit.

Fresh manure covered her feet up to her ankles. Giggles exploded at the end of the hall.

Fury, building at the speed of light, had Miranda staring daggers at Tabitha and her sidekick, Sienna, another regular competitor.

Miranda held out her pinky, thinking pimples, thinking hooked noses, and boobs of a ninety-year-old woman—the kind of boobs old women could flash people with by pulling up their skirts. These two girls deserved floppy tits.

Then bam!

Right before she let the thought slip from her mind into her shoulder and travel down her arm to escape from her pinky, she remembered. Any spells placed on other contestants cost points.

Precious, precious points. Points Miranda couldn’t afford to lose.

She dropped her arm. With the stench billowing upward, she tried breathing through her mouth. Tabitha and Sienna continued to giggle. Oh, this was sooo funny.

Not!

Miranda squared her shoulders. “Why does the perfection of this spell of yours not surprise me?” She aimed her words at Tabitha, knowing it had been her idea. “Oh, wait, I know. Because you are so full of shit!” she seethed.

The one-minute bell rang. The two girls ran out to take their places.

Miranda had less than thirty seconds to make the circle on the stage. No time to conjure up a cleansing spell, she held her head high and walked out on the stage, pretending she wasn’t up to her ankles in horse crap.

Crazy idea?

Yes.

Stupid?

No.

Was she mortified?

Absolutely.

Yet logic trumped embarrassment. The judges docked points for tardiness; she’d never heard of them docking points for horse dung.

*

Soft music echoed from the loudspeaker as Miranda took her place. She stood ramrod straight. Murmurs of discontent echoed from all directions. The witches on both sides of her in the circle put hands over their noses. Tabitha, one person to her right, held a slight smile on her lips.

Oh, what Miranda wouldn’t give to turn and make huge dollops of horse manure rain down on her.

The twelve judges sitting at the end of the stage behind a long wooden table waved their hands in front of their faces. The front-row audience of the dome-shaped auditorium squished up their noses as if the stench was just now invading their air.

What a way to start a competition. Especially one she was damned determined to win.

“Ms. Kane?” one of the judges snapped after the one beside her pointed to Miranda’s shit-covered feet. The music came to an abrupt halt.

“Yes, ma’am?” Miranda answered, her voice magically projecting through the entire auditorium.

“Do you lack so much respect for this competition that you would walk on our stage … like that?”

“No disrespect intended,” Miranda answered, praying her voice didn’t crack. “I’m simply trying to honor your promptness rule. I wasn’t expecting to find … excrement waiting outside my dressing room door.”