Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(45)

And, if they don’t miss, they hit him where it just glances off. It hurts, of course, and he utters something like, “Yeesh…” and then he’s off again, shooting the bad guys like ducks in a barrel.

* * * * *

In real life, I’m sad to say, it doesn’t work that way.

* * * * *

I also find it somewhat distressing to report that Agatha Darling has two wands. And what comes out of Agatha Darling’s second wand is not charming, sweet-colored pixie dust. Nor is it not-so-charming acid and forest green swirls of magic.

Oh no.

With her second wand pointed straight at my chest, she blasted me with lightning.

Pure, scorching, white-bright lightning.

And it hurt like hell.

* * * * *

I didn’t say “Yeesh…” I exclaimed, “Arrrrgh, holy shit, f**k!”

I was Mel Gibson getting tortured by the little Asian dude in Lethal Weapon, except without the water.

And that was when I could talk at all.

* * * * *

She didn’t need to hold me paralyzed after the lightning died. I fell to my hands and knees, gagging and trying my damnedest not to spew my sun-dried-tomato-laden lunch on the ground.

Her power, from holding me to blasting me, was awesome.

Awesome.

I’d never seen anything of the like, not from Mavis or Gran or all of us put together.

I was in Trouble, with a capital T.

Shit and damn it all to hell.

“Now, Mathilda, we have to talk,” she said, her voice posh to the nth degree.

I feared r’s rolling.

I feared ee-ahs included in such words as “here”.

I feared that f**kity, f**k, f**king lightning.

I struggled to get up. I didn’t go for the wand tucked in my waistband because I couldn’t. I barely had the strength to pull myself up to rest on my knees. I was panting, my eyes were unfocused and the pain in my chest was excruciating.

I took the deepest breath I could once I got myself upright and asked, “About what?”

I looked at Rory who looked worse than before, probably not an easy thing to watch, someone getting struck by lightning.

He looked utterly terrified.

Darling continued, “I wanted a chance to explain to you about tradition. About the right way to do things and the wrong way to do things.”

Uh, what?

As in, excuse me?

She’d lost me.

I couldn’t help myself anymore, I looked away from her to Rory and asked, “You okay?”

Blast!

Again, she hit me with the lightning.

Up in the air and back I went, slamming against the sliding doors, the bolt holding me suspended up there for what seemed like forever.

I heard Aidan on the other side, banging, shouting my name, the doors rattling but they didn’t move.

I slithered down when she was done, on all fours again, gagging and this time I was crying and slobbering too. It hurt like hell, the pain was so intense, I thought my arms that were holding me up were going to give way, I was trembling so badly.

“Do not interrupt when I’m speaking,” she warned.

I whimpered with pain, too lost in it to be humiliated by the fact that I hadn’t even raised a wand to her. I wished with everything I had that Aidan both could and couldn’t get those doors open. I needed help, oh goddess, I needed help. But she might be able to make mincemeat of him just as she was making mincemeat of me.

With effort, I pulled up my head and looked to see she was studying me with what seemed like little interest, as little as she showed me in the Swank Italian Place. As if this was some kind of unwelcome duty she had to perform, like the dishes.

This bitch was ice cold.

How on earth could she be a witch?

“I don’t think you understand,” she went on. “I don’t think you appreciate the history of witches, my dear.”

I heard a noise and looked over at Rory. He was crying like me, gagging against his guard’s arm which had tightened against his throat.

“Do let up, Robert, we don’t need the boy anymore,” Agatha said to her lackey.

The man let Rory go and he dropped to his knees too, his eyes wild.

“But!” Darling snapped, both wands swishing through the air like whips as she turned her attention to Rory. “I don’t want to hear a thing from you.”

Rory went totally still, staring at her in petrified silence as she turned again to me.

I hated her.

Goddess, I hated her like I’ve never hated anyone.

In fact, I’m not sure I’d ever felt the emotion before because it was nothing like I was feeling then.

“This ‘Witches Dozen’ business. It won’t do,” she informed me. “The Prophesies said you’d be… well, obviously… ” She gestured with her wand taking in all that was me. “And they weren’t wrong. But I never thought… never dreamed that Mavis would allow it. That you would herald the beginning of the end of Our World.”

She was quiet and I was up again, on my knees, staring at her. It took everything I could to get in that position and I was scared out of my wits but when she didn’t continue, I ventured a question.

“Your World?”

“Not my World, dear, Our World. The World of Witches. You are familiar with it, are you not?”