Read Online A Tale of 3 Witches by Barbra Annino, Christiana Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbra Annino, Christiana Miller
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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
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
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