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Authors: Kristen Ashley

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BOOK: Mathilda, SuperWitch
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Oh, darling, not because they think you are
The
Mathilda but just that you are
A
Mathilda and therefore, well, I think they believe it’s better safe than sorry.”

Great.

“How do you know it’s me?”

Mavis threw her head back and laughed.

The she stated, “You, my girl, are unmistakably
The
Mathilda.”

I didn’t know what this meant but decided to pursue it later.

“But these people who are after Rory,” I said. “They mentioned The Mathilda Register in front of Josephine.”

Mavis looked at Sebastian who in turn looked at me and said, “That isn’t good news.”

You’re telling me.

 

18 January

Update

(Cannot face another marathon writing session.)

Rory:

Is okay.

Living with us, going to school, watches his Mom constantly thinking she’s going to off herself. Josie (my nickname for Josephine) wants us to let him think that rather than worrying about bad guys trying to off
him!

He makes me sad so I’m stuffing his face. Mavis says to back off as he will weigh three hundred pounds and be bullied if I don’t. (What does Mavis know? The boy needs love and nothing says love like an enormous sugar cookie with lashings of powdered-sugar icing. Especially when he gets to help me make them.)

Cosmo:

Has become potty-trained after massive effort by Mavis, Lucinda, Josephine, Rory and Myself (and Ash singlehandedly taught the dog how to sit by saying, sharply in his deep voice, “Sit!” and the dog sat but then so did everyone else in the room).

Josephine:

Just finished the notice she gave on the jobs and is working with us in the café (must admit this is very helpful, as, unlike many of the coven members, she can bake).

Also living with us – Mavis handled her landlord who is a “friend”.

Josie, without having to worry constantly about the untimely death of herself and/or her son, has gotten the color in her cheeks, lost the bags under her eyes, put on a pound or two and got the shine back in her hair.

In other words, the bitch is a looker.

Ash says good morning to her every time she comes into the kitchen in the morning wearing a little nightie and short robe.

He never says good morning to me, just reads his paper, or, if I’m lucky, looks at me warily like I might mistakenly blow up the kitchen or something.

BecBec:

Is on my shit list (has been since taking me to see Rory and Josephine for what seemed to be no apparent reason other than to upset me).

Keeps zooming around and keeping me awake at night and babbling at me.

I tried to start faerie-speak lessons by walking over to a table and pointing at it and saying, “Table. Table.
Table.
” But when I motioned it was BecBec’s turn, she said (in high-pitched squeal), “Eek-eeeeek-eek-eek.” I don’t think they call a table that but what do I know?

Lucy:

Likes Josephine, dotes on Rory, doesn’t have much time for Cosmo. “Bloody dog… why didn’t he get a cat?”

Made this fabulous red cake with this luscious, whippy, creamy frosting that may be my new most favorite cake in the whole, wide world.

Mavis:

In hog heaven.

Café seems to be going well, her regulars came back and we have a few new regulars (Mavis: “Thank the goddess, The Gables, darling, is hell to heat.”)

She’s pleased with my progress in The Craft.

She gets a real kick out of Rory and gets to mother Josie, who needs her soft touch. Josie may be getting color into her cheeks but she’s still pretty jumpy and fragile.

I tried and failed to get more info out of Mavis about Dad, Granddad, Le Société, Mathilda’s Register, being one hundred and eleven etcetera but she said we’ll have another session later and, “There is only so much a girl can take.”

She’s telling me?

Aidan:

I called him, no answer.

I stopped by the Plumber Shop (or whatever it’s called) and even though his truck was out front, they said he wasn’t there. (Summoned a new SuperWitch power and sniffed them… unpleasant… sweating, most likely lying… bastards.)

Josie says she hasn’t heard from him in awhile. She used to clean the Plumber Shop at night (Plumber Shops are cleaned?) and ran into him a couple of times. She knows nothing else about him except, “He seems nice and he’s
really
cute. He looks like that Sawyer guy on
Lost
except, obviously, cleaner seeing as Sawyer didn’t have a shower most the time because he was a castaway or he was fighting bad guys or running through the jungle or getting shot or tortured or falling out of helicopters and such.”

No duh.

(Seems Josie watched
Lost
and took mental notes… hmm.)

I have tried to see him via a variety of sources, my (yay!) new crystal ball being one of them but failed.

Am weirded out that I may have kissed an actual baddie (rather than just an in-my-neurotic-head-baddie) in way of Glenn Close in the
Jagged Edge
(though without the vomiting and hopefully Aidan is not vicious slashing killer but just charming witch hunter (what am I saying?)).

The Mathilda Books:

Eleanora Hobbs-Wilding did a number on the books. Her spell means the bad guys read one thing, the good guys read another thing, but when Mathilda Guinevere Honeycutt opens one of them, they say:

Mathilda, it wouldn’t be good if you knew your future. Tell Mavis we say hello.

Fucking Eleanora.

Sebastian:

Does not like nickname.

Ignores me if I use it or gives me dirty look.

I use it a lot.

A lot, a lot.

Got Rory using it. (Hee hee.)

Have not had another incident a la making out, etcetera. This is good as Sebastian is a bad, bad man.

He is bad because I started to have many a fantasy after incident in library but after one particularly, er,
satisfying
evening… came down to breakfast next morning to the surprise of Ash looking at me like a cat who got his cream.

Realized belatedly have mind-meld with him (re: black dragon, etcetera, etcetera).

Fuckity, fuck, fuck.

Had terrible thought that he could see my fantasy!

Drank coffee, ate cranberry orange muffin and watched him surreptitiously.

When he got up to leave, he looked me in the eye
and grinned!

Sebastian… does… not… grin.

Bloody cheek.

He can read my mind!

Demanded that Mavis tell me about black dragon gig. She said Black Dragon was Ash’s call sign a la Val Kilmer as “Iceman” in
Top Gun
. I was to use black dragon as my way of telling him I’m in trouble and need him.

However…

Get this!

He is actually programmed into my mind so no matter what trouble I get into, say, even if I’m drugged and can’t think straight, he may have a way of finding me, helping me, etcetera, etcetera.

Do not like this.

At all.

Told Mavis I didn’t like it.

She shrugged.

“I could do something about it, I suppose,” she muttered, “since I put the spell on the two of you. But I don’t think it would be wise. You could talk to Sebastian about it and see what he says.”

Bloody right I would.

I asked where Ash lived and she hemmed and hawed and finally explained he was staying in The Dungeons.

(FYI: The Dungeons are not
real
dungeons, per se, but Su, Viv and I called them that when we visited. The Dungeons were the two bottom floors of The Gables which were built into the side of the cliff. It is kind of darker and scarier down there than anywhere else in The Gables. We avoided it as there were too many shadows which seemed to move when they weren’t supposed to and it freaked us out.)

Took windy, twisty route to studded, wooden door that leads into Dungeons and knocked (heard loud echoes on other side of door after knocking, creepy, I really hate The Dungeons).

When Ash arrived at door, he opened it (creakily) and leaned against the jamb with arms crossed on chest (his favorite position to look down his nose at people). Then he looked down his nose at me (could swear he had a little grin on his face).

“Don’t eavesdrop into my thoughts anymore. We’ll get you a beeper or something,” I said, figuring I might scare him into complying with my supreme bossiness and confident demeanor.

“No.”

Obviously, it didn’t work.

“Some things I think are private. Just meant for, er, me,” I told him.

This was embarrassing.


Mathilda,” he said, exuding restrained patience, “you think of me…
any
time you think of me… I’ll know. Whatever it is. That’s the way it goes, that’s how I protect you.”

“Well, stop it.”

“I can’t.”

“We’ll get Mavis to do something about it,” I suggested helpfully.


I don’t want Mavis to do anything about it,” he said and then grinned
again
. “I
like
your thoughts about me.”

Ack!

Sebastian is most provoking.

(How’s that for a thought?)

 

 

Chapter Four

The Month of February

 

2 February

Status quo.

Everyone is alive which I think is good.

Had first month anniversary of re-opening of café as The Witches Dozen. We gave Mavis heart palpitations as Lucy and I gave out mini-cookie and coupon for free coffee drink to everyone who came through the door.

Mavis said with some alarm, “They’ll come back expecting a free drink.”

To which Lucy replied, “They’ll come back.”

I think Mavis understands but still thinks we’re slightly crazy.

I one-upped Lucy’s Red Cake by unveiling an American Angel Food cake with my Mom’s famous whipped cream icing (more like whipped shortening and butter with shitloads of sugar in it but that’s a secret).

Although Angel Food cake is commonplace in The States, no one has heard of it here (had to get Viv to Fed Ex an Angel Food cake tin). I renamed it Hanna Belle Cake after my Mom – no one but tourists would know the difference.

Cake was a huge success and even more so since I announced it’s fat free (not, of course, if you eat the icing with it but I explained you could scrape it off (if you’re insane)).

Also important to note that Josie introduced me to Jigsaw and found Stila at Space NK and Jimmy Choo at Harvey Nicks in Cabot Circus. I’m surrounded by decent fashion (albeit not with good parking but such is life in England). Now can breathe easier about shopping situation (as in, don’t have to take the train to London every time I fancy a new sweater or need eye shadow).

YAYAY!

 

3 February

New development.

Was settling in to Movie Night with Lucy and Josie…

Aside: Made the mistake of saying, in all innocence, “I don’t get the whole
Taxi Driver,
Martin Scorsese thing. I mean, I prefer the works of Rob Reiner.” (Seriously, though, wouldn’t you rather watch
This Is Spinal Tap
and see Derek Smalls going on about visionaries than watch Joe Pesci’s Tommy DeVito screaming about being funny?) You would have thought I said, “I don’t get the whole fallen chocolate soufflé cake thing. I mean, I prefer boiled rice.” Jeez. Lucy demanded the next Movie Night be “Dinner with Martin Scorsese”. Ack!

Josie came in toting our Indian takeaway and still bitching about the garbage trucks doing collections during rush hour traffic. She’d been on about this all day, since taking Rory to school that morning (too cold for him to walk, not to mention our fear of bad guys hauling him away).

I told her to shut up and dish up the murug makhni when she pointed her finger at the TV in a rage.

There was Douglas Addison, prominent American neo-conservative senator for Colorado (in my opinion, the only thing the modifier “neo” was good at being attached to was Keanu Reeves) and some say, next American President. Apparently, he was coming to England for some reason (probably to spread the word of the Lord whilst signing lucrative arms contracts).

BOOK: Mathilda, SuperWitch
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