Mathilda, SuperWitch (12 page)

Read Mathilda, SuperWitch Online

Authors: Kristen Ashley

BOOK: Mathilda, SuperWitch
2.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Is there more?” he asked in response.

Interesting.

“Okay, then, if you’re a member of this place and you aren’t supposed to get involved then why did you get involved?”

He sat up, set down his coffee cup and massaged his temples for a bit.

When he was done, he dropped his (very nicely formed, very manly, not professorial at all, by the way) hands and he said, “There are several reasons, Matty.”

Then he stopped.

Men again! Why did they make you work so hard for everything?

“Well?” I pressed.

Nothing.

Dammit.

“What are they?”

He watched me again for a bit. This watching me gig was very strange and unsettling and I have to admit (only to my journal) it weirdly excited me (slightly).

Finally, he answered, “Okay, first, I got involved because I believe the real world and the magical world can live in harmony and The Institute is in the perfect position to facilitate that.”

Ha! He obviously hadn’t read
Why the Worlds Will Never Live Together in Harmony – A Cautionary Chronicle
by Ulysses Cavanaugh.

Aidan carried on, “Second, I’m not accustomed to inaction. Watching doesn’t suit my way of doing things, I’d rather be… doing things.”

“You shouldn’t have become a member if you didn’t agree with the way things were done,” I tutted.

He grinned.

Goddess save me from good-looking men who can pull off a grin.

“You sound like Jeremy,” he informed me.

“You mean Ichabod Crane?” I asked.

Uh-oh, forgot myself. Maybe they were friends and that was mean.

“That’s exactly who I mean,” Aidan said.

Oh, there you go. Don’t think Aidan likes Ichabod.

Anyway, I didn’t want to sound like Jeremy.

Ignoring all that, I went on, “What other reasons do you have?”

More watching.

Then, “Once I saw you I knew I’d have to get involved.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yes, Matty. I couldn’t exactly get you in my bed without meeting you.”

What!?

Ack!

Yay!

Oh no!

I had no idea what to think and then I didn’t have to think because an old dude walked into the room to announce breakfast was ready.

Mixed blessing.

After dropping the “get you in my bed” grenade, Aidan conveniently disappeared without a good-bye while I was whisked to a phone by one of the other members.

I called Ash on his mobile. This was the conversation:

“Hi Ash.” (Brightly to dissipate any bad mood.)

“Where are you?” (Tersely, clearly not in the mood to have bad mood dissipated.)

“The Royal Institute for Psychical Research.”

Silence.

Then, “I’ll be there in two hours.”

Hang up.

Uh-oh.

* * * * *

We had a full, traditional, English fry up in the Great Hall (yum-ah-licious! English breakfasts were
the bomb,
fried eggs, fried bread, toast with marmalade, awesome, meaty English bacon, sausages, baked beans, sautéed mushrooms, gut-busting but heaven-on-a-plate, even s, I feared for the cholesterol levels of my companions). Aidan was out amongst the brethren as was Jeremy and about twenty-five other Old and Young(ish) Dudes. (!)

Members were coming out of the woodwork to get a close up look at a real, live witch.

I sat at a head table next to Ambrose and another man introduced as Forrest Something-or-Other. I feared I’d never again meet a man by the name of John, Dave or Steve.

Everyone stared at me while they ate their bacon and fried bread.

Conversation was scarce.

And I mean scarce as in
non-existent.

I had a feeling Aidan was seriously in trouble.

Afterward Ambrose led me to another room with more ancient furniture. It was a bedroom and he advised me to rest as I waited for “Mr. Wilding”.

He meant Ash.

Everyone knew everything about me except, it would seem, me!

I looked out the window and saw what Aidan had been looking at earlier – dozens of cars in the courtyard. So he knew I was to be the curious creature at a breakfast of a score of geezers and he didn’t warn me.

Men!

Just before the big guy left I said, “Mr. Bennett?”

“That would be Dr. Bennett, Miss Honeycutt.”

Pompous old fart.

“Um… is Aidan in trouble?” I asked.

He studied me (lots and lots of studying around this place – too much, creepy – unless it was Aidan).

“Yes, Miss Honeycutt, Dr. Seymour is ‘in trouble’.”

Oo, Aidan’s a doctor!

* * * * *

I didn’t trust the bed so tried to sit on floor and meditate.

Couldn’t meditate after final Aidan announcement and upcoming reunion with my bodyguard so sent thought-waves to Ash repeating, “Don’t be mad at me… don’t be mad at me… don’t be mad at me.”

Felt Ash’s Jag hit the courtyard before I got up to go to the window and see it.

Had the feeling regardless of thought-vibes that he was mad at me anyway.

I ran downstairs and into the entry hall and noticed all the Members had a new curiosity – namely Mr. Wilding who was striding purposefully toward the door… and me.

Striding, I might add, with a look on his face that could only be described as thunderous.

Uh-oh.

And.

Mm.

“It would seem,” a voice came from my side, it was Dr. Bennett, “that you’re in trouble too.”

He appeared to be correct.

Ash was through the door and steps away from me when I threw all caution to the wind, turned to Dr. Bennett and said, “There’s a witch out there that’s protecting men who intend to harm me and perhaps my family and Spellbound.”

I felt Ash stop beside me rather than saw him do it.

Dr. Bennett’s face looked pained. “And how did you come by that information, Miss Honeycutt?”

I ignored his question. “It would help a lot if you could tell me the name of the witch who’s helping them.”

Dr. Bennett shook his head. “I’m sorry but –”

“He can’t, of course.” This was Ash and it was said in a really ugly tone.

I mean
really
ugly.

“Let’s go,” Ash ordered.

As Ash escorted me to the Lush Jag, I thanked my hosts on the trot and we were away.

We drove a bit and I counted the minutes in hopes of tempers (or, perhaps, one particular temper) cooling.

Then, “Ash –?”

“Not now, Mathilda.”

I shut up.

From his tone to the muscle twitching in his cheek, it seemed the smart thing to do.

 

12 February

Talked to Mavis about the possible bad witch.

She didn’t believe me until I told her Ambrose Bennett had (essentially) confirmed the information.

She’s really angry.

“We’ll just see about this,” she said and the way she said it scared the bejeezus out of me.

She took off and I haven’t seen her since.

* * * * *

15 February

Nothing.

Please note the date,
15 February
.

One-Five
February.

February as in second month of the New Year.

Day after Valentine’s Day.

And… nothing.

Okay, so Ash is mad at me and Aidan may be in the middle of Scary Manor House KP Duty but what would it hurt?

A card?

A single red rose?

A diamond bracelet?

One kissed me and liked my naughty nighttime fantasies; the other one said straight out he wanted me in his bed. I was thinking they were into me. And Valentine’s Day was Valentine’s Day, the only day of the year that pretty much demanded you make a gesture if you’re into someone.

And these guys own Jags and BMW Roadsters, for goddess’s sake!

Now wish I hadn’t made four batches of heart-shaped butter cookies. Granted, I didn’t exactly present them to their intended (though I saw Ash have one with my own two eyes and I sent the parcel to The Institute (found their address on their website!!) addressed to “The Members” but still, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out).

How often does a girl get two yummy men at once!? – both of whom clearly fancy her?

Unless you are Julia Roberts… it… just… does… not… happen.

In this dimension (and, I suspect, many others).

I’m putting away my rose quartz.

Fucking men.

On another note, Rory gave me the sweetest Valentine’s Card that he made himself (well, he had a little help from Nerissa but I loosely use the words “help” and “Nerissa” in the same sentence).

* * * * *

21 February

I’d had enough.

I mean, how mad at me could he be?

(Ash, that is.)

So I took off without him on what turned out to be a somewhat (!) dangerous assignation.

I made it.

I’m alive.

Breathing.

Baking.

Making kickass vanilla lattes.

Clattering around in my new, fab, fake crocodile stilettos.

Enough!

I went to the studded Dungeon door and banged on it as hard as I could.

Nothing.

With a mighty heave, I pushed it open and yelled down the steps (because, even though I’d had enough, I wasn’t gonna go down there – no way, no how).

“Ash! I want to talk to you!” I shouted.

Nothing.


Okay then…
Sebastian
, I want to talk to you,” I yelled, giving an inch.

Nothing.

I waited.

Then I shouted, “Have it your way!”

Then I humphed off to the library and took down
Mathilda’s Register
and slapped it on the desk.

“I’m fed up!” I told the book. “Eleanora, girl, you gotta give me something. Rory seems safe now but I got a renegade witch, a bunch of men immune to magic, a supernatural expert who can’t tell me what he knows and a bodyguard who’s pissed off at me. How am I to protect my Spellbound?”

Then I opened the book.

It said:

Mathilda, dear, what makes you think Rory is your Spellbound?

What?!
I thought.

“What?!” I said.

The letters wiped themselves out.

“Come on! I’m supposed to help someone who’s going to do great things in the future. Rory is bright, sweet, young –”

Eleanora interrupted me.

Yes he is, but, why wouldn’t
Josephine
be destined to do great things?

Holy Girl Power, Batman!

I wasn’t meant to protect Rory, I was meant to protect Josie.

Whoa.

Whole new spin.

“Thanks Elly, you’re the greatest,” I said to the book.

Don’t expect help in the future and don’t call me Elly.

Eleanora had an attitude.

But then who didn’t?

Yay!

Light dawns!

Speaking of attitude, as I closed the
Register
in strolled Ash.

Before I could say anything, he said, “Don’t ever do that again.”

I wasn’t stupid enough to ask what “that” meant.

Instead, I apologized, sincerely and sheepishly, going for cute and abashed.

It worked!

The apology threw him for a loop.

I’d hoped (in my deepest thoughts to myself and my journal) we’d kiss and make up but no luck.

He recovered quickly then said, “Mathilda, the Members of that Institute stood by throughout the Burning Times. They watched witches burn and drown and endure torture and they didn’t do anything about it. They watched a lot of innocents burn too and they knew it and they didn’t do anything about that either.”

Wow, that was a lot of words coming out of Ash all at once.

Other books

Tyrant by Valerio Massimo Manfredi
SWEET ANTICIPATION by Kathy Clark
Tangible (Dreamwalker) by Wallace, Jody
Satan's Pony by Robin Hathaway