Mathilda, SuperWitch (14 page)

“Matty, I don’t think you understand. Probation means –”

I hung up. I thought that was a good way to go.

Probation, shmobation.

Where did Mavis get that file?

And how was my luck bad enough that I’d get an evil nemesis with the name of Darling?

15 March

Lucy got me again. She took the battleground out of the sweet into the semi-savory and made some kind of brie, almond, cranberry-in-a-puff-pastry thingie with homemade crackers! It even had some braided, egg brushed decoration!

The customers are flipping out for it.

She’s not fighting fair.

* * * * *

(Later – at The Gables)

Aidan is downstairs in the sitting room waiting for me to get ready for our date.

Date!

Ha!

With Aidan!

Ack!

The professor!

Mm.

Yay!

Ash is in The Dungeon, fuming.

Ha ha!

Or at least I picture him fuming.

Fuming as he runs on his treadmill to work out his frustration.

Shirtless and sweating profusely.

Mm. Mm.

Ack!

Holy Boy Crazy Bitch, Batman!

Gran, Mom, Su and Viv are “entertaining” Aidan.

Ha ha ha!

(Poor Aidan)

* * * * *

This is what happened:

Was finishing my shift and leaving the shop with Beatrice, Rhiannon and Pandora as the afternoon crew.

I’d never left the shop without Lucy, Mavis or myself in charge and I was nervous. Beatrice could hold her own but Rhiannon would have half the village stoned on some kind of herbal concoction and I think Pandora is genuinely trying to blow up Big Red.

I was fretting and Ash was on some marathon mobile phone conversation, sitting by the fireplace at the café, nursing an espresso while I sucked the last dregs out of my almond mocha latte, obsessively crossing and uncrossing my legs and trying not to jump up and stop Pandora from banging a wooden spoon on Big Red (that spoon came from Williams Sonoma and I had to sign away my first born to acquire Big Red… was she nuts?).

By the way, Ash had, all of a sudden, decided that he wanted to escort me everywhere. Mavis, Mom and Gran were adamant I let him so I had to wait for him to take me home. Ack!

Then, with no warning, Aidan walked in.

“We have to talk,” he announced upon arrival at me.

Yay! Aidan!

I wanted to jump up and do a little happy dance but had to remain cool as he didn’t even bother to say hello or give me a kiss on the cheek or anything.

So just said, “Hey,” and shot Sebastian a look mouthing, “I’ll just be over there,” pointing to a booth.

“Let’s grab a booth,” I suggested to Aidan.

Aidan took one look at Sebastian, who was still sitting by the fireplace with his legs stretched in front of him, his now empty espresso cup beside him, his mobile at his ear and a carefully blank expression on his face while he watched us.

“No, let’s go somewhere private,” Aidan said.

(Kinda ballsy, that.)

I leaned toward him and whispered, “He isn’t going to shoot you.”

Aidan didn’t look like he believed me (and I wasn’t sure I believed me either).

I put on my supercool, asymmetrical cardie, gestured out the door and mouthed, “I’ll be at the museum for just a mo’,” to Ash and walked out the door with Aidan.

We walked across the street, up the seafront, into the Victorian pier museum and up the windy stone staircase at the back to the art gallery on the second floor.

As usual, it was deserted.

As safe a place as any.

I looked out the slit window at The Witches Dozen.

Mom had put some lush and plentiful planters out front bursting with flowers and the dudes had delivered our new New Orleans-at-Disneyland, frenchie, curly, black, wrought iron patio furniture a few days ago.

It looked fab.

“Matty?”

“My shop is cool, isn’t it?”

He got up next to me and looked out the window then looked at me, his face real close and his blue eyes had this melty warm look in them.

“Yes, Matty, very ‘cool’,” he said in a low, gentle, deep, awesome voice.

Ahem.

Steady, girl.

“So how’s this going to go down if Dr. Bennett, Jeremy and The Institute find out you’re here?” I asked.

“I’m not worried,” Aidan answered without pulling away.

“Why?”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms on his chest.

I didn’t realize I’d put myself in a corner with Aidan fencing me in.

Hmm.

I wasn’t worried either. I was something else all together.

“For one, my great grandfather was a Director. They tend to be more lenient with members who are grandfathered.”

Ah.

He went on, “Then, of course, Trevor Whitaker died. That made me the only Mathilda Scholar at the Institute.”

But of course!

Aidan is a Mathilda Scholar.

Makes sense.

And I’m Mathilda.

Hmm.

He kept going. “And there’s the fact that I have a 157 IQ.”

Ack!

What the…!?

Holy Genius, Batman!

Then he finished, “I may be placed on probation but they won’t lose me. Not until they train a new Mathilda Scholar.”

Whoa.

Back up.

157 IQ?

Damn!

I didn’t know how to process that.

I mean, what did that make him? Was he like Matt Damon in
Good Will Hunting
or Sir Charles Litton in
The Pink Panther
or Dr. No in
Dr. No
?

Or all three?

He was watching me so I filled the silence.

Be cool… be cool.

“What’s up? You got the goods on Darling?”

That’s cool.

He smiled.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

“You’re very cute when you’re trying to be The Chosen One.”

Humph.

Then, in our little huddle by the window, Aidan cut me a break on the banter and told me he didn’t give up Darling’s file to Mavis. He also told me as far as The Institute was concerned, that file had never left Darling’s “watcher” (very Giles in
Buffy
, in a non-participatory way of course).

Aidan wanted to see the file.

Hmm.

Why not?

I pulled out my mobile with the new ultra-awesome hot pink cover that had retro shapes and the words “glamour girl” (the new nickname I gave myself the minute I saw the cover) written on it and dialed Mavis.

Of course, in the stone pier museum, I had no coverage. So, had to lean a little bit into the slit window and tilt half of myself and twist the other half somewhat awkwardly to get reception.

When Mavis answered, I said, “Auntie Mavis, I’m with Aidan, do we still have the Darling file?”

“Oh no, my dear, that’s been replaced, of course. Safe and sound. Tell that young strapping lad I said hello. Toodle-loo,” and she disconnected.

I had to let out a little giggle, I mean, “toodle-loo”?

I extricated myself from the window. “Um, I think there was some magic involved with us having that file.”

Instead of looking annoyed, Aidan looked impressed.

Then he stated, “I came to see you because I thought the file was a fake and you’d been fed just enough information to get you in trouble.”

He obviously didn’t know Mavis’s watcher very well if he thought that.

Although the “trouble” part seemed to fit me pretty well.

“Why did you think the file was a fake?” I asked.

“Bennett has put down an edict, no more contact with witches.”

Considering the edict was put down and he was, like, an inch away from me and I wasn’t only a witch, I was
the
witch, I smiled at him and he smiled back.

Aidan continued, “He also warned us to be on the lookout for any witch antics.”

“Witch antics?” I put my hand to my throat and fluttered my eyes. “Well, I never,” I flirted.

And flirted well, considering how Aidan’s voice dropped a bit lower making it pretty damn sexy.

“So Mavis must have got in under watcher radar, which is pretty good. Especially Darling’s watcher, who is one of our best.”

How weird.

I wanted to ask best at what?

Watching?

I cleared my throat and straightened. As much as I was enjoying this, I
had
promised Ash.

Before I could say anything though…

“You and I have unfinished business… ” Aidan started, still talking sexy-low.

Uh-oh.

“Aidan, I want to know more about Darling… and to talk… but before that I need –” I needed to let Ash know I was all right.

(Must admit, torn between two-non (not yet?) lovers but not feeling like a fool just feeling… weird.)

“You don’t need me for Darling.” He was leaning closer, smelling better, raising heart rates faster.

“Aidan,” I said.

Black dragon,
I thought.

I know, you may think I’m crazy but would you want to be in trouble with Sebastian Wilding?

No?

Me neither.

“Darling has a shadow protecting her,” I informed Aidan. “It’s a good one.”

Black dragon.

“We can’t break it,” I went on.

Black dragon
.

“Anything you have for us would be helpful,” I requested.

Black dragon.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner.” Aidan was clearly having a different conversation than the one I was having.

“When?” I liked his conversation better.

“Tonight.” Wow. “Without the Black Dragon tagging along.”

Ack!

Oh my.

He knows
everything
.

Of course, with a 157 IQ he probably just soaks up information willy-nilly.

“I can’t.” (I could.)

“You can.” (He was right.)

“What do you have against him?” (I meant Ash.)

“I can’t tell you.” (He knew what I meant.)

Hunh?

“Really? Why?” I asked.

“Because it’s a Prophesy, you, me, him… we’re destined for –”

“Excuse me.”

Oh shit.

It was Ash. He was with us in the pier gallery.

“You know The Prophesies?” I asked Aidan, ignoring Ash.

He sure does take his time, that Ash. Then comes at the wrong moment.

“Mathilda.” That was Ash again.

“Sebastian,” I retorted, skewering him with a glance and mimicking his tone because I’d regressed to an eight year old. “Done with your phone call?” I asked, snottily then I turned to Aidan. “Yes, I’ll go out to dinner with you.”

A moment of complete silence.

Aidan grinned.

Ash did not.

I finally realized what all those supermodels are constantly moaning about. There may be a lot of interest but it certainly takes a heck of a lot of time and effort to get anyone worked up!

I wanted to know how Aidan knew The Prophesies. He wasn’t magical.

And I wanted to know The Prophesies, full stop.

Well, maybe not all of them, but some.

And especially the one that involved me and two superhunks (yes, I said “superhunks” but when there is a lack of vocabulary to describe the deliciousness of said superhunks, one must make do, so superhunks it is.)

So here I am, freaking out with hair half straightened and outfit half chosen, writing in my journal instead of getting ready and I’m about to go on a date with a doctor.

Yay!

And yet, slightly worried I’m having my first date in England with the wrong guy.

Superhunk or no.

16 March

My life is too… freaking… crazy.

I mean, get this:

I was in my bedroom totally freaking out because I was about to go on my first date in months with a genius professor from Cambridge University who happened to watch witches in his spare time.