A Tale of 3 Witches Read online

  A Tale of 3 Witches

  Christiana Miller & Barbra Annino

  HekaRose Publishing electronic publication date: December 2011

  Electronic Edition

  Copyright © 2011 Christiana Miller & Barbra Annino

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  A Tale of 3 Witches

  Copyright © 2011 Christiana Miller & Barbra Annino

  www.christianamiller.com

  www.barbraannino.com

  Edited by: Tana Panagopoulos

  HekaRose Publishing

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission,

  except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Electronic Edition License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then you should return to site of purchase and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  DEDICATION

  This story is dedicated to the witch in every woman. And to all our readers who've asked for more!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mara bent to pick up the morning paper and was almost run over by two Dobermans, chasing full tilt after a toad. Technically, the ghost of a toad. The late, great Lord Grundleshanks the Poisonous Toad, to be exact.

  "Bad dogs!" Mara yelled.

  Grundleshanks hopped through the open front door and up onto the back of an armchair. Mara picked up the paper she had dropped, grabbed the morning mail, and went into the cottage just in time to see Aramis and Apollo skid into the chair and end up in a pile.

  "He's not alive, you goofballs. You won't be able to catch him. You'll just kill me in the process."

  The Dobes glanced from her to the toad and back again, eyebrows twitching, as if they were anxiously weighing their odds.

  Just then, the telephone rang. Mara picked it up. It was Paul. He had the baby, which she knew always made him nervous. Mara tucked the phone onto her shoulder as she sorted through the mail, pulling out bills that she needed to pay.

  "No, Paul. She can't levitate things. She's just a baby." Mara listened. "No, she's not going to telepathically turn off anyone's machine and kill off all the old people. Geez. She's not a monster, Paul. She's a baby. If you can't deal with her, bring her back."

  "She's staring at me." He said, his voice low and rumbly, as if he was worried about the baby overhearing him.

  "That's what babies do. They can't talk much, so they stare."

  "I don't think she's supposed to be able to stare yet."

  Mara sighed, exasperated. "Are you staring back at her? Or are you giving her something else to focus on?"

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know. A toy. Tickle her. She loves to laugh. She's a normal baby."

  "You say that now," Paul grunted. "But just wait until she reanimates the dead. Then we'll see how normal she is."

  He hung up and Mara shook her head. While she had wanted her daughter to spend more time with her dad, this was starting to feel like a bad idea.

  * * *

  Just then, there was a thud at the door. Followed by a muffled, "Let me in, bitch!"

  Mara dropped the mail and the paper on the coffee table and hurried to open the door.

  Gus, her best friend and cottage mate, stood outside, shivering in the cool fall air, balancing a bag of donuts, a tray of coffee, and a large box. "Took you long enough. My cojones shrivel up any more, I'll be a castrato."

  Mara rolled her eyes. He was such a diva. "I told you to wear a jacket."

  Gus handed her the coffee and donuts, and took a firmer hold on the box.

  "Oooh, what's in the box?" she asked. "It's too early for Christmas, and too late for my birthday."

  "Not everything is about you, Miss Thing. Where's my little girl?"

  "Paul took her to visit Daniel at the assisted living facility. At least, that's the plan. We'll see if they actually make it there."

  "Daddy and grandpa bonding time. How sweet." Gus grunted and set the box on the couch. "Does that mean Paul's over the fear that she'll blink and turn him into a flying squirrel?"

  "Not really. He's kinda torn between her being his daughter and the possibility that she may be the antichrist. But he's trying."

  "He'd better get over it. I don't want him making her think she's evil. If he doesn't shape up, I'll turn into the antichrist and stick his head on a pike." Gus growled. "No one screws with my little princess's self-esteem and lives."

  "They'll be fine." Mara said. "Is there a high chair in that box?"

  "Yes. And how do you know?"

  "There's a picture of a high chair on the side of--"

  "--I'm not talking about the box. I'm talking about psycho-daddy."

  "Oh. I asked the cards. They said there would be strife between them, but it would all end up well."

  Gus gave her his rendition of the hairy eyeball.

  "Gus, we've got to give him a chance. After all, he is her father."

  "That's debatable," he snorted.

  As far as they could figure out, Paul was technically the little girl's father – technically. But since he had been possessed at the time, Mara wasn't sure she could really hold him accountable for the pregnancy. And Paul wasn't at all sure how much of the little girl's DNA was actually human, regardless of what Mara said. Gus, on the other hand, would happily dump Paul's body in a stream and take over father duty, if Paul so much as looked at the baby cross-eyed. So they all co-existed in a tense balancing act.

  * * *

  Apollo and Aramis, ever on the lookout for treats, trotted over when Mara opened the donut box. She gave them each a piece of glazed donut and sat down on the couch, sipping her coffee, while Gus finished sorting through the mail Mara had brought in.

  He handed an envelope to Mara. "Here's one from the dead letter department."

  It was addressed to Tillie MacDougal.

  "Aunt Tillie! You've got mail!" Mara called.

  Aunt Tillie shimmered and appeared in the armchair. Gundleshanks hopped down to sit on her shoulder.

  "Well, don't keep me in suspense, child. What does it say?"

  Mara opened the envelope and an invitation slid out, along with a handwritten note.

  "This looks like fun." Mara said, reading the invitation out loud. "Spend a haunted weekend at The Geraghty Girls Guest House. Tour the most haunted spots in Amethyst and end the weekend with a Halloween festival and parade."

  "Sounds like a job offer, Tillie," Gus said, through a mouthful of donut. He looked over Mara's shoulder. "Is it from undead_monster.com?"

  Mara laughed. "Now that would be funny. Jobs in the afterlife. Wouldn't that make it hell?"

  "Maybe that's where Tillie is. In hell, holding down a job as your spectral nanny."

  Tillie sniffed. "It's not a job, it's a calling."

  "Your occasionally homicidal spectral nanny."

  Mara rolled her eyes. "I don't think so, Gus. And she'd never hurt the baby."

  "I wasn't talking about the baby. I was talking about you."

  "I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, young man." Tillie snapped. "Don't let me
get started on what you've done--"

  "--Would you both hush up and let me read this note?" Mara said, unfolding the note.

  Surprisingly, they both quieted down.

  Mara squinted at the name, not sure if she was reading it right. "It's from someone named... it looks like Birdie. Is it Birdie or Bridie?"

  "It's Birdie. How lovely. I haven't seen Birdie in ages," Tillie said, settling back down. "A personal invitation. Of course, we'll go. I can't wait to see what she's up to."

  "Too bad you're dead," Mara said.

  "But you're not." Tillie said, pointedly. "And you could use a vacation. You said yourself, this trip sounded like fun."

  Mara looked up from the note. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Vacations are for single people with no responsibilities. I'm not going to go dragging a baby to a haunted holiday."

  "Pish tosh," Tillie snorted.

  "I'm with you, Til. How can anyone pass up a Halloween vacation?" Gus said. "Hey, look at that. Me and Tillie agreeing. Is it getting chilly in hell, Til?"

  "You'd better mind your manners, young man." Tillie snapped.

  Mara ignored both of them and read the note.

  Gus looked over her shoulder and gave a low whistle. "Wow. And I thought I was the Queen of Melodrama.

  "Well? What does it say? Don't keep an old ghost in suspense."

  "Dear Tillie," Mara read. "This is crucial, I'm afraid. There's a great trine aligning in the stars and the portents are centering on Amethyst. My granddaughter continues to fight against her destiny. We must have a gathering of elders to meet the challenge ahead. We need you, desperately. I've set aside a room for you at the B&B. Please, hurry."

  "Well, that settles it," Tillie said, standing. "Pack your bags."

  "Tillie! I don't even know what half of the words in that note mean. I'm not going to drop everything to go on some cryptic journey."

  "It means she needs your help. You'll have to leave the baby here."

  "I can't do that. And what about the dogs?" Mara protested.

  "Figure it out. The clock is ticking."

  "This invitation was for you. Not me. I'll just call her and tell her--"

  "You are not going to call Birdie and break the news of my demise over the phone. You will do it in person, like a responsible adult. More to the point, she needs you. Consider it an emergency."

  Mara looked around, anxious. "But..."

  "Isn't that what dads are for? Paul can stay here and watch the baby and the dogs." Gus chimed in. "You wanted them to have bonding time."

  "And I'll pop in and out and make sure he takes good care of her." Tillie added.

  "But, it's just so... sudden."

  "That's how emergencies are." Gus said, grinning at Mara. His eyes were twinkling at the prospect of a witchy crisis looming. "Duty calls. Have magical powers, will travel. Witches to the rescue. Hip, hip, hooray. Let's get a move on." He said, practically pushing her towards the stairs so she could pack.

  "No more buts. Get that suitor of yours over here and make it happen," Tillie snapped.

  Mara groaned. Last time Paul stayed over at the cottage, a malevolent spirit had possessed him. She wasn't at all sure he'd be up for staying there again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  To say the dream was unusual would be putting it mildly. There was a toad hopping all around a pumpkin patch and the thing had such expression in his eyes, Stacy Justice could swear he was Lord Byron reincarnated.

  Her Great Dane, Thor, was galloping after the toad, his huge jowls flopping in the fall breeze, until he came across an old woman with a temperament so ornery, it fired off her in tiny purple sparks. Stopped the dog right in his tracks. Thor rolled over on his back and whinnied, kicking his legs in the air. The toad shrugged, climbed on top of Thor's belly and blinked at the woman.

  She gave a reluctant smile to the toad, but to Stacy, she said, "You kids think you know everything. Think your brains are better, just because they're younger. You better wise up, toots. I don't have as much patience as your grandmother. Just ask Mara."

  Then she was gone.

  Stacy bolted upright in bed, jostling Thor, who was snoring next to her, his giant tail thumping happily.

  Was she talking to me? And who on Earth was Mara? Stacy thought.

  * * *

  Stacy's eyes were still heavy as she crawled out of bed. She cursed herself for not making coffee the night before. She would need a whole pot to kick off this weekend. Not only was it the busiest tourist weekend of the year, it was also jam-packed with family activities that she was bound to be dragged to, whether she wanted to go or not.

  Being raised by witches was bad enough. Being raised by a grandmother who was convinced that Stacy was not only a witch, but The Seeker of Justice (whatever that meant) was a bit harder to swallow.

  But then, when Samhain--the strongest Sabbat in the Pagan calendar year--rolled around, well, that was a front-row seat on the train to crazy town.

  Stacy slipped into a robe and padded into the kitchen. The dark roast coffee can was nearly empty so she made half a pot, licked the grounds off the spoon and grabbed the milk from the fridge.

  The carton was still in her hand as she turned around to see a face staring back at her. Stacy screamed, punctured the milk with her nails and fell backwards into the trashcan.

  "Hello, Anastasia. Do you have any idea what time it is?" It was Birdie, Stacy's grandmother and aforementioned witch. Birdie never called her granddaughter by her given name, which was simply Stacy. Everything had to be more dramatic, more pronounced, just – more with Birdie, who refused to answer to Grandma.

  "Dammit, Birdie! Why do you always sneak up on me like that!?" Stacy pulled herself up and went to the sink to wash the milk out of her eyeballs.

  "It's after nine o'clock. I cannot believe you slept the morning away when we have so much work to do."

  Stacy groaned. Her grandmother owned a bed and breakfast called the Geraghty Girls House, and the 'girls' the title referred to her were Stacy's great aunts, Birdie's sisters. Not one had seen the underside of seventy in some time.

  "Birdie, you know I worked at the Black Opal last night. Cinnamon was short-staffed." The Black Opal was Stacy's cousin's bar and last call wasn't until one a.m.

  Birdie raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, the morning light dancing off her copper waves. "A young person like you should have more stamina."

  An old lady like you should have more manners. At least, that was what Stacy wanted to say. But she settled for "Fine."

  Stacy flipped the off switch on the coffee pot. "Just let me get showered and dressed. How many guests do you have arriving?"

  "Two guests. Three rooms."

  "You're kidding." There were three guest rooms, but accommodations for seven people. Often people traveled in packs on this weekend.

  Birdie just stared at her.

  Stacy sighed. "I know, you never kid. Still, this weekend is usually booked solid."

  Something flickered across Birdie's face for an instant. Stacy couldn't identify it, but she didn't like it.

  "This weekend is special." Then Birdie turned and floated out the door.

  Yep. Stacy definitely did not like it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mara frowned at her tarot cards. They were arranged on the table, in two different streams, as if she were doing two separate readings.

  "Well, that's not helpful at all." Mara muttered. She reshuffled the cards and tried again, but got almost the same identical layout. "Damn it. Stupid cards."

  Mara had a love/hate affair going with her Thoth deck. It was an extremely loud deck, so it was easy to read, but it was sometimes too blunt. No cushioning messages or softening the blow to human emotions with that deck.

  She was about to try it a third time when she felt someone approaching the cottage. She closed her eyes and tried to read the vibes coming up the walkway. She recognized the bright orangey-red cheerfulness right away -- it was her baby girl. The large sable-colored energy with
her had to be Paul.

  By the time the doorbell rang, Mara was already opening the door.

  "Come here, baby. Come to mama." Mara held out her hands and the baby reached for her, laughing. Mara hugged her, kissing the soft skin of her forehead and cheeks. "Mama's missed you soooo much."

  Paul set the diaper bag down. He was still so dang sexy. He looked like the All-American boy next door, with a gym membership and a high IQ. Everything a girl could want, rolled up into one sexy package. If only he wasn't so weirded out about their past. Mara bit her lip, wondering how she was going to broach asking him about a longer-term father-daughter visit.

  "So, how'd it go? Did she zap any old people?"

  Paul sighed. "It was fine. Everyone survived. Daniel thinks I'm being an ass."

  "Well, you kinda are."

  The baby cried and the word "hungry" popped into Mara's head.

  "Hold her for a sec," she said to Paul as she handed him the baby. Then she went into the kitchen to warm up a bottle of breast milk. Thankfully, she had pumped enough to feed a small army of babies before her milk had dried up, and she had a freezer-full.

  When she returned, she gave Paul the bottle to feed to her and then watched as he burped her and cleaned her up. In spite of his worries, he was gentle with her. Why he continued to struggle against succumbing to her innate baby charm was beyond Mara.

  "You have a knack with babies. I think all you need is more time together."

  "Hah! Yeah, right. I don't know. I mean, I guess it would be nice. As long as she doesn't turn me into a toad. But what if she--"

  "What? What can she possibly do?"

  "I don't know. That's the point. I just don't know. She's not... normal. When she cries, it's like... pictures pop into my head of what she wants. That's not normal."

  "So she's a little extra-special. She gets that from me. But I promise you, she does not have the ability to zap you. I've been with her every day and she's never zapped anything. She didn't even zap a bee that was stinging her. And don't you think if she could have, she would have?"