MagicalMistakes (2 page)

Anger came to her rescue, banishing the painful hurt. How
dare he? He had no idea who he was messing with. Did he think she was some
weak-willed human to roll over and accept contempt she’d done nothing to
deserve? Not a chance. With single-minded determination she stepped away from
the bar and followed Ciar. He owed her an apology.

She tracked him through the crowd and watched as he slipped
out the side door. Hurrying to the exit, she pushed the door open a crack and
saw Ciar striding down the dark alley.

Mikayla watched him walk away without a care in the world
while she was battered and bruised. Her hands curled to fists at her side. Red
flashed across her vision as fury surged within her. She’d spent months being
nothing but kind to him and what was her reward? Mockery and contempt. Well, no
longer. She was done chasing after him in hopes of any scrap of affection. It
was time to show him exactly what kind of woman she was. Ciar had hurt her and
the bastard would pay. Without any thought, she opened her mouth and called up
her magic.

“Show him the meaning of love’s full range, cause his low
view of me to change,” she said. All the hairs on her arms stood on end as
magic rushed across her skin to coil in her hand. Heat expanded down her
fingers, making her palms itch. Calling her magic was like trying to hold on to
something that didn’t want to be held. She gritted her teeth and battled the
desire to release the spell. The longer she could contain the magic, the
stronger it would be. Focusing on Ciar, she poured more energy into her hand.
The magic twisted against her fingers almost like a physical presence.

Satisfied with the strength of her spell, she cast out her
hand and watched the flash of her power as it snaked toward the retreating
demon. The attack hit him square in the back.

A triumphant smile twisted her lips.
Let’s see how he
likes me now.
Would he race back to her, begging to be hers? A cold smile
curved her lips. She rather liked the idea of turning the tables and crushing
him instead.

For a moment everything froze. Nothing moved in the still
night. The rush of the traffic faded away to silence as she waited for her
spell to take effect. Mikayla hardly dared to breathe. Pins and needles pricked
at her palm in the aftermath of the magic gathered there but she gave the
sensation no notice. All she saw was Ciar.

And the black smoke curling at his ankles.

Ice flowed through her veins as the fumes surrounded the
startled man. Her heartbeat kicked up another notch but this time, not from
triumph. The spell she’d cast shouldn’t be reacting in such a physical way.
Ciar was supposed to look at her with adoration, not be swallowed by inky dark
fumes.

“Oh crap,” she whispered as she watched the cloud swallow
him.

Bursting from the doorway, Mikayla raced for the swirling
mass of black smoke, trying to think of a rhyme to break the spell. Whatever
had a hold of him, it wasn’t the magic she’d called.

Or thought she’d called.

Words and incantations swirled in her brain as she tried to
act, but panic made it impossible to string the correct order of the spell
together. There must be a way to stop it. Something to undo her foolish
mistake.

But before any words could leave her lips, the smoke parted
and rolled away.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, stumbling to a halt. “I am so
dead.”

“Mikayla?” Wyn’s voice called out from behind her. Mikayla
turned to see her sister poke her head through the side door before turning to
call back inside, “Tamsyn, she headed this way.” Wyn stepped out into the
alley. “What are you doing out here, little sis?”

“We were looking for you,” Tamsyn added as she left the bar.

Together they strode to Mikayla’s frozen side.

“What the hell is that?” Wyn asked when she stopped beside
her sister.

“That,” Mikayla croaked, pointing toward the ground, “is
Ciar.”

The three sisters looked down in horror at the creature
sitting by their feet.

“Ciar?” Tamsyn whispered.

“I tried a spell and…”

“That’s the demon who strikes terror into the hearts of his
enemies?” Wyn demanded.

“I don’t think terror is an emotion he’ll be invoking
anytime soon,” Mikayla replied. “At least not until we reverse this and he
destroys me.”

At their feet, a small bundle of white fluff yelped in
annoyance.

“Is it what I think it is?” Wyn asked.

“Looks like a toy poodle,” Tamsyn replied.

A grin split Wyn’s face. “I have to say, for such a big guy
he makes a rather adorable dog.”

“So, so dead,” Mikayla muttered to herself.

Tamsyn crouched down to get a better view of the dog before
them. “Well, not necessarily. Do you think he understands what’s happening?”

“Ciar?” Wyn called out. “If you can understand us bark. Or
better yet, shake a paw. Who’s a good puppy?”

Mikayla whacked her irreverent sister over the head. “Lay
off.”

The poodle stared up at them with the same unchanging,
adorable expression.

“Come on, Ciar. Give us a woof or something,” Tamsyn
encouraged.

The dog wagged its little tail.

“Ciar may have made an intelligent man, but in dog form I
think he’s riding the short bus,” Wyn said.

“She probably transfigured him into a real poodle.
Hopefully, Ciar’s consciousness is firmly on hold for the time being.”

“Is that possible?” Mikayla asked.

“You’re the one who cast the spell. What did you say?”
Tamsyn demanded.

“Nothing about him turning into a dog.”

Rising, Wyn faced her sister. Her smile slipped from her
lips as her eyes grew serious. “What exactly were your words?”

“Uh…” Mikayla hesitated. “It was only a little rhyme. It
just popped into my head but I think there was something about changing his
view of me…”

“You cast a spell without testing it first? Or remembering
the incantation?” The horror in Tamsyn’s expression was hard to face.

“Mikayla,” Wyn said, looking a bit green herself. “You know
there’s a reason witches never cast spells on Halloween. The air is already
heavy with magic tonight. Anything we do is amplified a hundredfold. Even the
simplest incantation can go wrong on a night like this. I might be the queen of
mistakes, but this one really takes the cake.”

“I know, I know. I just…” Mikayla sighed. “I wanted him to
really see me. Just once. I thought maybe tonight was my chance. The
incantation sort of…slipped out.”

“Apparently,” Tamsyn replied, glancing down at the poodle.
She dragged a hand through her hair. “Okay, let’s just get him home and reverse
this.”

“All I wanted was to get a drink to celebrate Halloween.”
Wyn sighed. “Now we have to figure out how to avoid bloody demon vengeance.
Thanks, little sis.”

Mikayla ignored her, crouching down beside the dog.

“Ciar?” she whispered, both hoping and fearing he’d respond.
But the dog did nothing to acknowledge he understood her. Instead he planted
himself on the ground and looked up at her, his tiny pink tongue lolling from
his mouth.

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. What a mess she’d
made. Turning her crush into a dog. And not just any dog, no, she had to change
him into a tiny, adorable fluff ball. There was no way he’d ever forgive her
for this.

The dog trotted to her side, sniffing her hand. Opening her
eyes, she watched the animal try to gain her attention.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him, her voice breaking.

Tamsyn and Wyn stopped their arguing, looking down at her.

“Honey,” Tamsyn said, kneeling by her side. “We’ll fix it.”

“I should have never resorted to magic,” Mikayla replied.
“This is not the witch I want to be.”

“Everyone goes a little mad when they care about someone,”
Wyn told her, shrugging. “Remember when Tam wrote that dreadful poetry for her
crush in twelfth grade?”

Tamsyn hissed at her younger sister.

“That didn’t hurt anyone,” Mikayla replied. “This crosses
every line.”

By her side, the dog poked her hand with his small wet nose.
Mikayla stroked his head, scratching behind his ear when he wiggled closer.

“Come on,” Tamsyn encouraged. “Let’s get him home before
anyone notices he’s gone. We can fix this.”

Wyn reached out to scoop up the dog but Mikayla brushed her
hand away.

“Please don’t bite me,” she said to the dog. “Even if I
deserve it.”

Carefully she picked him up, cuddling Ciar in her arms. The
poodle yipped at her before he settled into a more comfortable position.

“Come on, Mikayla. Let’s go home,” Wyn said.

Together, three witches and a poodle, strode from the
deserted alley.

* * * * *

Ciar stared up at the unfamiliar kitchen. Everything was
alarmingly large, not to mention walking on four feet instead of two had proved
more difficult than anticipated. Twice he’d stumbled into one of the various
spell books the sisters had tossed on the table.

Taking a careful step forward, he edged to the side of the
table and looked down. Though he was relatively sure he could make the leap, the
distance to the floor seemed like a bigger risk than was warranted. Besides, he
needed these cursed women to fix him.

A growl built in his throat but he fought the desire to
release it. He couldn’t do anything to alert the trio that he knew precisely what
was going on. The only advantage he had in this horrific situation was the fact
they spoke freely before him, thinking him none the wiser. Ciar could easily
imagine what would happen if they knew he was on to them. They’d stuff him in a
cage and wash his memories away. Damned witches. It was why he avoided their
kind. They were never to be trusted. He let his eyes stray back to the one who
had caused all the trouble. Mikayla sat at the table, head in her hands. He
tried not to feel sorry for the woman who had bespelled him. Even enraged as he
was, he couldn’t ignore the silent pain rolling off her in waves.

“Should we buy him kibble or something?” Wyn asked.

Ciar bared his teeth at the thought.

“Surely we can undo this before it gets to that point,” Tamsyn
replied. “I don’t particularly enjoy the thought of house training a demon
poodle.”

“He’s going to rip me to shreds,” Mikayla groaned, banging
her head against the wooden table.

Ciar eyed the guilt-stricken woman. If he had the little
magic worker at his mercy he could think of far more pleasurable ways of
exacting his vengeance.

“Why is nothing working?” Tamsyn mused, flipping through a
book.

Mikayla banged her head against the table again.

“Stop that,” Wyn said, swatting her. “We need your brain in
working order. Tell us exactly what spell you used.”

“It was simple,” she groaned. “A sentence or two at the
most. I was angry at the way he’d treated me and I just…snapped.”

“Wait, what?” Wyn demanded. “What did he do to you?”

Ciar padded around the table, walking off his agitation. He
knew he’d hurt her. She’d stood in his arms, looking up at him with guileless
eyes that begged him to do all the wicked things he craved. Instead of taking
her up on her offer, he’d walked away. Perhaps the first noble act of his life.
He’d put her safety above his lusts and where had it gotten him?

Cursed.

Last time he ever tried to do a good deed.

“Nothing deserving of a fate like this,” Mikayla replied.
“He simply made it clear I will never be a woman he wants.”

If only
, Ciar thought with a mental snort. Mikayla
could tempt a saint. Something he most assuredly was not. But he knew better
than to yield to the lure she offered. Last time he had cared for a woman he’d
ended up exiled and alone in the mortal world. No way was he risking such
affection again.

“The man has no taste,” Wyn sniffed.

Mikayla rolled her eyes.

“Focus,” Tamsyn said, striding over to the table. “Mikayla,
you said something about him changing his view of you in your spell, right?”

“Right.”

“I bet that’s where the transfiguration came in,” Wyn cut
in, frowning. “I mean, physically, his view has definitely changed. You’ve got
to be a freakish giant to him now.”

“Thanks, Wyn. So helpful,” Mikayla retorted.

“And it would explain why the anti-transfiguration spell was
a bust,” Tamsyn said. “Technically, you didn’t cast a purely transfiguration
spell. There must have been another part to it. A condition on Ciar regaining
his true form.”

“That I can’t remember.”

“I’ve got to hand it to you, sis, this is a spectacular mess,”
Wyn said with a sigh. “I’d be proud if I wasn’t so worried.”

Though Ciar might personally agree, he still fought the urge
to bite Wyn. Couldn’t she see her sister was already berating herself as much
as was humanly possible? They didn’t need to lay the guilt on any thicker.

“Enough, Wyn,” Tamsyn said, speaking the words Ciar
couldn’t. “Focus on the matter at hand.”

Sighing, Ciar lay down on the table and waited for the brush
of their magic.
Here’s hoping one of the damned incantations works.

* * * * *

“No more rhymes. I can’t take it,” Wyn groaned, sprawling
across her chair. “I’ve never respected Dr. Seuss more.”

“Who accidentally transfigured the kettle into a flowerpot?
Because I’d love a cup of tea,” Tamsyn replied.

“It was one stupid impulsive moment of weakness,” Mikayla
muttered. “And now the man of my dreams has the IQ of a dishrag and fits in my
purse.”

The dog lifted his head and looked at her questioningly.
Mikayla reached out to stroke his fur. Over the course of the night it had
become a familiar gesture.

“Look, there’s nothing more we can try tonight. Halloween is
still interfering with our magic. We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” Tamsyn decided.

“What do we do with him?” Wyn asked, pointing toward Ciar.
“Puppy pound?”

“I’ll take him,” Mikayla cut in. “I mean, the least I can do
is make him comfortable.”

“Not quite how you pictured your first night with demon boy,
eh?” Wyn asked, wiggling her eyebrows. Tamsyn whacked her over the head as she
walked by.

“Come on, Ciar,” Mikayla said, holding out her hands to the
dog.

The poodle obediently trotted into her waiting arms and
buried his head against her breasts.

“See you guys in the morning,” Mikayla said as she walked
from the room.

She could barely keep her eyes open as she navigated the
stairs. Hours of trying to change Ciar back had sapped her of all her energy.
Not a single thing they’d tried had made the slightest bit of difference. She
had to remember the incantation. Without it, they didn’t have a hope.

Mikayla pushed into her room before kicking the door closed
behind her. She flicked the light switch with her elbow, then set Ciar down on
her bed.

“This is where you’ll sleep for the time being,” she told
him before striding into her connecting bathroom.

Mikayla grabbed her bowl full of cotton balls and dumped the
contents out. After rinsing the bowl, she filled it with water and set it on
the floor in the bedroom.

“If you get thirsty,” she called.

The dog hesitated at the edge of her bed, looking down at
the distance to the floor. After a few false starts, he finally flung his small
body from the mattress. His landing wasn’t exactly graceful but he quickly
found his feet and trotted to the water bowl. After a drink, he sauntered into
the bathroom and sat down to watch her.

Mikayla cast him a smile before turning back to the mirror.
She stared at her black-lined eyes and red lips. Normally she wasn’t much of a
makeup girl but tonight she’d made an effort. She’d wanted Ciar to see she was
more than her magic.
What a smashing success.

Mikayla cursed her reflection and reached for a washcloth.

Once she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, she strode
to her closet and pulled out her blue nightgown.

The poodle leapt onto the bed, watching her with definite
interest.

She touched the hem of her tank top, then glanced uneasily
back at Ciar.

“Are you sure there’s nobody home in that little doggy head
of yours?”

In response, he rolled onto his back, twisting his body as
if to make her laugh.

No way would Ciar ever act so silly, she thought, pulling
her shirt over her head.

The dog froze, his head tilted at an unnatural angle as he
watched her.

Frowning at the poodle, Mikayla turned her back to him as
she slipped the black lace bra down her arms. She tossed it into the laundry
hamper before undoing her jeans. As she stripped out of her clothes, she
couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. She knew it was only a dog on her bed,
not Ciar watching her with burning eyes. Still, knowing Ciar was with her, in
any form, was like stripping for a lover.

After kicking her jeans into the closet she reached quickly
for her nightgown. Despite the logic that told her she was as good as alone,
Mikayla couldn’t fight the urge to cover herself. The silk floated down her
body to her ankles, accentuating her slender form. Glancing down at the
scooping neckline and the tiny straps of the nightie, Mikayla acknowledged it’d
been a long time since she’d dressed for anyone other than herself. Once she
fixed Ciar, she was going to have to move on. She was finally getting the memo.
Nothing good came from wanting a demon.