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Authors: Kimberly Frost
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lie and cursed by the toast,” Incendio replied.
A gust of wind shook leaves down on us as I glared at Jordan and Incendio. “Leave me alone!” I said, shoving my way between them as I passed. I moved down the path to the alley.
Cursed for lying even if I’d done it on accident? Not fair! Was it any wonder that I wanted to stay out of their crooked magical association?
I didn’t think I’d cast a spell on the tree, but I’m not known for sensing magic, so maybe Jordan and Incendio had felt some that I couldn’t. And thinking about it now, there had been a couple incidents over the past week when I might have done magic without using an incantation or mixing herbs. Once had been while we were under attack by werewolves at a witch’s meeting, and Bryn claimed I’d sent his power back into him. But I just figured it went back where it was supposed to go without any help from me. The other time, I’d wished hiccups on Jenna Reitgarten, and she’d gotten them. Of course, that might have been a coincidence, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
I stood by my car, feeling pretty . . . good. Maybe there was hope for me learning to use my magic after all. Plus the tequila had hit me. My lips tingled, and my head buzzed. I glanced at my car and knew I couldn’t drive. It’s only a little Ford Focus, but it gets me around. I wasn’t fixing to crash it to bits.
Who should I call to drive me home? I sure wasn’t asking those rats, Jordan and Incendio. I could call Bryn, but then they might catch him giving me a ride and overreact by killing him.
I couldn’t really walk home though. It was way too far. I could hitch, but, from the looks of Earl, the Duvall crime wave wasn’t over. “What’s it gonna be, Tammy Jo?” I whispered to myself.
As I tried to decide, I heard a cracking sound so loud it threatened to pop my eardrums and then a big crash and shattering glass. I ran around the corner and stopped, staring at the tree whose branch had knocked Earl on the head.
The tree had split down the middle, falling over and ripping up its roots. It had crashed through the roof of the Whiskey Barrel, smashing the street-side windows. The earth around the tree was blackened. The dirt that had been so soft under my feet was brownish black, too.
While I stood on the deserted street, something bit my ankle.
“Ouch.” I slapped at my leg, stumbling onto the walkway for a better look at the tree. I heard a shriek and then was bitten again. I smacked my leg, making contact with something fuzzy.
I screamed and rushed toward a streetlight, my eyes darting over my shoulder, looking for a rabid squirrel or crazed chipmunk. And then I saw him. He wore a fuzzy animal skin, but unless they’d started carrying weapons, he was no squirrel.
My blood dripped from his spear. He was about two inches tall and poised to throw the spear at me like you’d throw a javelin. Well, like you’d throw a javelin if you were from the time of my spellbook, back when jousting was invented. I stared at his gnarled figure, and his dark eyes stared back at me from his scrunched face.
“What are you?” I asked.
It took me a moment to understand his high-pitched squeak of a voice. “Foul witch usurper! You have destroyed our home. Prepare to die!”
“What in the name of all that’s Hershey?” I mumbled.
Then I heard a chorus of shrieks and the rest of his tiny tribe swarmed over the path. They shook their daggers and spears and bared their pointy teeth as they raced toward me.
“Stop!” I yelled, but they didn’t. I guess I could have tried to defend myself, but I couldn’t imagine fighting back against toy-sized creatures, even if they were smudged with dirt and crazed with bloodlust. So I did the only thing that I could think of. I ran.
For having such short legs, they were surprisingly quick. A couple scrambled up trees and leapt from them to land on my shoulders. I managed to bat one off before he stabbed me in the neck, but his
A gust of wind shook leaves down on us as I glared at Jordan and Incendio. “Leave me alone!” I said, shoving my way between them as I passed. I moved down the path to the alley.
Cursed for lying even if I’d done it on accident? Not fair! Was it any wonder that I wanted to stay out of their crooked magical association?
I didn’t think I’d cast a spell on the tree, but I’m not known for sensing magic, so maybe Jordan and Incendio had felt some that I couldn’t. And thinking about it now, there had been a couple incidents over the past week when I might have done magic without using an incantation or mixing herbs. Once had been while we were under attack by werewolves at a witch’s meeting, and Bryn claimed I’d sent his power back into him. But I just figured it went back where it was supposed to go without any help from me. The other time, I’d wished hiccups on Jenna Reitgarten, and she’d gotten them. Of course, that might have been a coincidence, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
I stood by my car, feeling pretty . . . good. Maybe there was hope for me learning to use my magic after all. Plus the tequila had hit me. My lips tingled, and my head buzzed. I glanced at my car and knew I couldn’t drive. It’s only a little Ford Focus, but it gets me around. I wasn’t fixing to crash it to bits.
Who should I call to drive me home? I sure wasn’t asking those rats, Jordan and Incendio. I could call Bryn, but then they might catch him giving me a ride and overreact by killing him.
I couldn’t really walk home though. It was way too far. I could hitch, but, from the looks of Earl, the Duvall crime wave wasn’t over. “What’s it gonna be, Tammy Jo?” I whispered to myself.
As I tried to decide, I heard a cracking sound so loud it threatened to pop my eardrums and then a big crash and shattering glass. I ran around the corner and stopped, staring at the tree whose branch had knocked Earl on the head.
The tree had split down the middle, falling over and ripping up its roots. It had crashed through the roof of the Whiskey Barrel, smashing the street-side windows. The earth around the tree was blackened. The dirt that had been so soft under my feet was brownish black, too.
While I stood on the deserted street, something bit my ankle.
“Ouch.” I slapped at my leg, stumbling onto the walkway for a better look at the tree. I heard a shriek and then was bitten again. I smacked my leg, making contact with something fuzzy.
I screamed and rushed toward a streetlight, my eyes darting over my shoulder, looking for a rabid squirrel or crazed chipmunk. And then I saw him. He wore a fuzzy animal skin, but unless they’d started carrying weapons, he was no squirrel.
My blood dripped from his spear. He was about two inches tall and poised to throw the spear at me like you’d throw a javelin. Well, like you’d throw a javelin if you were from the time of my spellbook, back when jousting was invented. I stared at his gnarled figure, and his dark eyes stared back at me from his scrunched face.
“What are you?” I asked.
It took me a moment to understand his high-pitched squeak of a voice. “Foul witch usurper! You have destroyed our home. Prepare to die!”
“What in the name of all that’s Hershey?” I mumbled.
Then I heard a chorus of shrieks and the rest of his tiny tribe swarmed over the path. They shook their daggers and spears and bared their pointy teeth as they raced toward me.
“Stop!” I yelled, but they didn’t. I guess I could have tried to defend myself, but I couldn’t imagine fighting back against toy-sized creatures, even if they were smudged with dirt and crazed with bloodlust. So I did the only thing that I could think of. I ran.
For having such short legs, they were surprisingly quick. A couple scrambled up trees and leapt from them to land on my shoulders. I managed to bat one off before he stabbed me in the neck, but his
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