Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(47)

Yee ha!

I saw Ash hesitate while lifting a squirming bad guy to take in what I’d just done before he sent the baddie smashing through the (wired glass!) window.

Aidan was slamming his fist into another guy’s nose.

Rory was crawling across the floor to the doors.

Thankfully, the kids in the other room were long gone.

Duck, roll, (whimper a little at the searing pain in chest) and then land a ball of magic, hitting Rory in the back, it exploded and rained hot and shell pink pixie dust with silver sparks up and over him.

I allowed myself a short sigh of relief. That last sphere was protection for Rory. (I hoped.)

The woman with the great boots appeared in the doorway. She took one look at the scene and without a word, grabbed Rory and disappeared.

Darling didn’t look bored anymore, she actually stood.

“My, my, Mavis has been busy –”

I didn’t let her finish, I didn’t give a flying f**k what she had to say.

I lifted my arm and, Spidey-style, flicked her with some of my brightly hued sparks.

She waved it away like I had with my forcefield and then we were off, me ducking and rolling and throwing orbs of magic while she slapped back with lightning.

Then, with a loud crack, what was left of the doors went flying off their hinges. Viv and Su came charging in, great waves of Viv’s glittery turquoise sparkles met with Su’s lustrous, grape-colored dust as I sent another sphere of neon across the room.

* * * * *

And that’s it.

Darling was driven back by Viv, Su and I, disappearing in a sparkling array that camouflaged her for long enough for her to get away.

The men were left as they were, battered and unconscious.

As we all stumbled out (well, it was only me stumbling, everyone else was walking with both Aidan and Ash helping me), the local woman stood with Rory at the front door to the Centre. She was smoking a fag and looking like nothing surprised her.

Rory ran and threw himself at me. I winced and whimpered and put my arms around my boy as I caught the woman’s eye.

“Al’right?” she asked.

I answered the only way I knew how.

“All right.”

Then I passed out.

* * * * *

Drained, messy with snot, tears and slobber, mortified (not only at the ass-kicking I was given but at the snot, tears and slobber that both Ash and Aidan were seeing), magicked out through body conjuring rather than using my wand and burned to shit by lightning (actual blistered, ugly burns and bruises), I was out like a light.

And you know the rest. I woke up in Ash’s arms.

So, like I said.

It has begun.

20 April

Middle of the night, my eyes opened.

I felt them coming before I could see them.

Oh well.

Here we go.

I rolled out of bed, thought “black dragon” and grabbed my wand.

I looked at the clock: two a.m.

Couldn’t they come at a decent hour, for goddess’s sake?

* * * * *

My chest was better. Not great: blisters going away, bruising turning that ugly green with hints of yellow. I won’t be wearing cle**age anytime soon, but not so painful as before.

Anyhoo.

* * * * *

I looked out the window and there they were, silhouetted against the almost-full moon – three of them, pointy hats, ragged skirts, broomsticks and all.

The Witches Council: the hag, the lady and the maiden.

I tucked my wand in the back waistband of my new pajama bottoms (post-duel-with-baddie-get-well-soon gift from Mom with pink and chocolate paisley swirls – lush).

I started down the back stairway only to hear someone coming up. I saw the glint of a flashlight but couldn’t see who held it.

I was nowhere near recovered – magic-wise. The last time I checked, I’d drained the source dry during the duel (yesterday, I was trying to conjure a hot fudge sundae once I’d gotten out all the ingredients and was too tired to finish the job manually but I just managed to explode the cocoa box and get chocolate dust everywhere).

Nevertheless, I shot a warning pulse of shell pink and silver pixie dust (don’t know when my magic became all vivid but I dig it).

It illuminated Ash.

“Don’t waste it,” he ordered.

He’s so damn bossy.

Aside: not feeling the Ash Love right now – in any way – which could be why I’m not feeling the Ash Love.

I came abreast of him and he shone his flashlight on my bare feet.

“Where are your slippers?” he asked.

“Er,” I answered

The flashlight travelled up my paisley pajamas and pink camisole. “And your dressing gown?”

“Um.”

“Wait here.”

And he was off.

And, of course, I waited.

* * * * *

By the way, I think you get that the Big O has not been repeated. Ash has been persona-non-seena for two days, doing his Mysterious Ash Activities and leaving me wondering how we’ll manage to someday get married and have children (unless done in some other dimension where we actually spend time together, go on date, hold hands, talk about politics, argue about who’s going to take out the trash and have real, full-blown sex).

* * * * *

He came back with my slippers and robe. I should have felt thankful at his gallantry but instead I felt pouty and who wouldn’t? No girl should experience a close encounter of the future-husband kind and then be left to heal from lightning bolt wounds alone.