Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(64)

I turned back to the mad scientist. “You should be proud.”

His eyes got bigger.

“I was thinking the other day, I mean, you don’t mind suggestions do you?” I asked and didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway,” I said, gesturing madly. “Next you should invent one that squirts acid. I think that would be an excellent idea.”

His face started to get red.

“Or, wait! How about fire? No, no… bolts of electricity are better than fire, more dramatic. You were smart to go with that. Don’t you think?” I asked, turning to the arms dealer.

He spluttered.

“What am I saying? Of course you do.”

I then leaned forward to the scientist and drunkenly stage-whispered, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” (Hardly, since I’d just told everyone.) Then I gave him a big wink and pretended to zip and lock my lips and throw away the key, nearly hitting the dealer with my hand.

I turned to Addison. “Until, that is, the strand of what’s left of his hair that I got from his jacket gets into my caldron.”

Then I threw back my head and laughed as insanely as I could muster.

Which was pretty insanely, thank you very much.

Everyone was staring at me.

I didn’t care. Mainly because how dirty politicians, flesh peddlers and icky skanks felt about me wasn’t high on my priority list.

Then I asked a passing server, “Would it be possible if I could I have another martini?”

* * * * *

“Nicely done.”

I was alone, having my after-dinner coffee in the back courtyard and wondering if it would act as a magical elixir that would stop me from vomiting when Douglas Addison joined me.

“Mm. Senator Addison,” slightly slurring, “as a voting American citizen, may I just say that I’m alarmed at the company you keep.”

“Mathilda, my sweet girl, keep your friends close, and your enemies –”

“Closer. I know but those folks are just, well mostly… um…” At a loss for words I simply said, “Blech.”

“Indeed,” he agreed on a twitch of his lips.

“What’s your association with Agatha Darling?”

Might as well ask.

And anyway, I was shitfaced.

“She’s a friend,” he answered.

Right.

“Do you know your friend kidnapped a young boy who is very close to me and when I found them, she electrocuted me?”

Okay, I know I was being blunt but why not? There may be a time to be diplomatic but alone, in a garden, after eating an elegant dinner with some of the dregs of society all wearing designer gear, in other words, proving the world was unfair, and getting blotto was not that time.

And anyway, I’d pulled out The Chanel.

For this.

What a disappointment.

I was surprised to see he looked genuinely appalled and maybe a little… could it be… angry?

“No, Mathilda, I didn’t know that.”

And you know what? I didn’t know whether or not to believe him.

* * * * *

Aidan took me home shortly after.

I fell asleep in the car.

Or, perhaps, passed out.

Toe-may-toes, toe-mah-toes.

I awoke just before we arrived and he walked me to the door of The Gables.

“I know I should probably apologize for making a spectacle of myself in front of your friends but I’ve got to tell you, your friends leave a lot to be desired.”

Maybe I was a tad bit upset because I hadn’t particularly enjoyed my second date with a doctor-slash-supernatural watcher-slash-possible future husband and father of my children and I was definitely still drunk.

I paused but before he could say anything I continued, “And, if you’re trying to woo me, it’s not a good idea to try doing it while flirting with a yucky, obvious, fake-tanned skank.”

Aidan laughed.

He laughed!

Bastard.

I sure can pick ‘em.

“They aren’t my friends and you’re jealous,” Aidan replied.

“If they aren’t your friends then why did you take me there?” I asked then added, “And I’m not jealous.”

“I took you there because, as The Chosen One, you’ll be moving in those circles and you were definitely jealous.”

“I will never move in those circles and I… was… not… jealous. Not of that…” I curled a lip, “thing. A C-Lister whose next big career move is to be on Celebrity Big Brother.”

He smiled. “You shouldn’t be jealous. Amongst all the people there, you were far and away the most interesting. I think Doug felt the same way.”

Mm.

“I don’t care what Doug thinks. Doug is a scary guy.”

Aidan smiled. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Right.

* * * * *

By the way, Aidan left after he gave me a kiss on the cheek.

A kiss on the cheek!

Um.

Whatever!

18 June

I was walking up Poet’s Walk after a morning shift at The Dozen. I’d passed the turn off to St. Andrew’s Church and the creepy-yet-cool-slash-older-than-time graveyard that surrounded it.

I ignored the dog walkers in their wellies who looked with horror at my high-heeled, cherry-colored go-aheads that click, clacked on the pavement as I walked by.