Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(98)

We were standing by the counter displaying jars of Goober peanut butter and jelly stripes (just behind the £30 boxes of Fortnum and Mason champagne truffles) and catching our breath when Viv turned to Gabriel and said…

“You’re hired.”

24 September

Listen to this.

Upon arrival at The Dozen this morning, Nerissa charged up to me and shouted, “She was here, yesterday, Girlie Spice!”

Eh?

“What?” (Me)

“Girlie Spice the one with the nose and the history with Robbie Williams.” (Nerissa)

I gave up and looked at Lucy.

“Geri Halliwell. Rissa reckons she stopped by yesterday for one of your new cinnamon rolls.”

“Really?” (Me)

(Was currently winning the War of the Wooden Spoons with the introduction of my Cinnabon-esque (little smaller, different frosting with a hint of cream cheese) cinnamon rolls – a whole new concept to English folk and they took to it like ducks to water.)

“Yes, I swear, it was her… Girlie Spice.” (Nerissa)

“That’s Baby Spice.” (Lucy)

“Er, I think she’s called Cutie Spice.” (This nugget of wisdom from Pandora)

Oh for goddess’s sake.

How soon they forget.

“She’s Ginger Spice.” (Me) “Was she really here?”

“Yes, yes, I swear it was her.” (Nerissa)

Lucy shrugged.

Yeah, I could trust that… Nerissa was an expert. I mean, Girlie Spice?

Still, could be first celebrity client.

Yay!

Who was next? Jennifer Saunders? Someone told me she lived in Somerset.

Or.

Ohmygoddess.

Madonna?

It could happen.

Yay!

Boo!

I was leaving the country.

I was going to be holed up in a safe house in Baker in about a month’s time when the protection spells had reached their full potency.

I would miss Madonna.

My war with Lucy would be lost because I wouldn’t be here to fight it.

I wasn’t going to get my own TV show!

The Dozens would go back to being another “caff” serving all-day “full English breakfasts” and smelling of grease and bacon with baskets full of pre-wrapped flapjacks and “American” brownies that tasted like cardboard.

Ack!

All I’d worked for… gone.

Damn Agatha, Endora, the Traditionalists and the rest.

They were gonna pay.

Chapter Twelve

The Month of October

5 October

Scary, sad and miserable run-in with potential-father-of-children/life sacrifice/shifty, boy-I-can-pick-‘em, “Boyfriend” Number One:

* * * * *

I was up in my Tower Room.

Over the months I had made it my Magic Room.

I replaced the old, battered, wooden cupboards, cabinets and work benches.

Delia’s husband (one of the few of our coven whose husband was not in Le Société but was a furniture craftsman) made me a huge circular, marbled mosaic table for the center of the room (with lovely, curlicued, wrought iron legs).

(Well, he didn’t make them for me, he made them for some rich woman who said she didn’t like the marble and he needed to unload them at a cut-rate price that still curled my toes but they were so very gorgeous I couldn’t resist.)

There were matching sets of baker’s shelves and some dark-wooded, distressed chests displaying my jars, bottles, bowls, scales, pouches of runes, boxes of tarot, mortars, pestles, knives, pentacles, cauldrons, incense and essence burners, chalices, amulets, crystals, feathers, mirrors and oils.

(Okay, I’d been busy. I shop. I finally found the life-skill that makes my hobby a necessity.)

There were candles, candles and more candles in various colors and assorted (mostly black, iron, curlicued) holders scattered around the room and fixed to the stone walls.

There were huge bunches of herbs and dried flowers hanging from iron racks suspended from the ceiling and even more on hooks drilled into the walls.

There was a small, round table draped with a sheer, soft pink alter cloth with silver moons and blue and purple stars embroidered in it with my crystal ball sitting on a hot pink, velvet cushion on top with two comfy, upholstered, high-backed chairs around it.

I made a deal with the John Lewis salesmen on the floor model, discontinued chaise lounge and a sleek-lined, armless chair and foot stool which was surprisingly comfortable even though it looked kickass.

My Magic Room… I loved it and I was going to miss it.

I was in a bit of a panic because I had yet to find the origins, thus be able to prepare a counter-ceremony, of magic-stripping magic.

I felt I had to do that before I left the country. Somehow, I owed it to Althea and the protection spell in Denver was maturing rapidly and the minute it matured, we were gone.

Su had arranged an escort from DIA (Denver International Airport) that included witches, a couple local vampires and a sorceress with whom Su was friendly.

We’d researched the school in which to enroll Rory and had a work visa in process through a fake engagement of Josie to a multi-media artist and teacher at the Denver Art Institute who had volunteered to be Josie’s fake fiancé.

(Where Su finds these folks, I don’t know but we were major indebted to this guy who was named, get this: Windspear, I kid you not, Windspear Jones. Un-f*cking-believable).