Page 56 of The Witching Hours

“What do you think he…?” The Queen stopped when Nick began his one-sided conversation.

“There’s been a break in. Five intruders,” he said. He gave the address and his phone number even though the dispatcher surely had it. “Yes. My wife and I are home.”

Jack stepped forward and tried to grab the phone from Nick. Clearly, during their time in our world, the characters other than the queen had learned what phones do. That was when I learned that my husband is a hero of epic proportions. Few people would be foolish enough to engage in head-to-head battle with a supernatural, but Nick’s fight response was engaged, and he refused to give up the phone without a struggle. The two began wrestling for Nick’s phone. He was slammed into a wall when Jack insisted on having the phone for himself. Of all the things I’d seen from the Wonderland gang, this was the first time an encounter had turned violent. Possibly because I’d never attempted to resist them physically.

Nick held his own long enough to end up rolling around on the ground, trying to land punches on Jack. The call was accidentally ended in the scuffle, but not before the dispatcher heard evidence of the altercation and pinpointed our location. Probably.

Since I couldn’t know for certain, I decided to stop miMikeing the useless woman who stands in the corner screaming. I jumped out of bed, glad that I was in pajama pants and tank top, with every intention of getting Nick’s phone, but Ace stepped in and blocked my progress by turning his staff horizontally. I suppose I could’ve tried a limbo dance, but I was past twenty-five and sober.

Plan A being unsuccessful, I leapt for my own phone on the nightstand, but Ace anticipated my play and got there first. He was too big to be moved, and also had the supernatural thing going for him which meant it wasnota fair fight.

“NICK!” I shouted. I was about to tell him to give up, that police would come shortly, when there was a mighty pounding on our front door. If that had been uniformed assistance, I would’ve been impressed by the efficiency. It wasn’t the police, but we benefitted from the interruption regardless.

Everyone froze in place. The pounding continued, coupled with the faint noise of shouting.

The queen nodded and vanished. One by one the entourage did the same. Ace was the last to go. He gave me a look that said he’d sincerely wanted the queen to grant his request to separate me from my head and faded until he was no longer visible.

Nick was a little wild-eyed and the first sign of a bruise was beginning to form on his upper body where he’d crashed into the wall. As it turned out, that was a wall we shared with neighbors. The noise had both awakened and alarmed them.

“I’ll get that,” I said, probably too calmly for Nick’s taste.

I swung the door open. “Hi, guys,” I said to the couple who lived next door. “Sorry about the noise. Nick was goofing around, dancing to “Uptown Funk”. He tripped and fell into the wall we share with you. If it makes you feel better, he’s going to have a hell of a bruise.”

Internally I was smiling about the fact that my lying skills were slick as ever. I felt, more than saw, Nick come up behind me. I’d spoken loud enough for him to hear my explanation and have my back.

“Hey, Nick,” Roger said, looking at Nick’s shoulder. “Yeah. That does look like it hurts.” He glanced at Tim then said, “Well, if everything’s okay…”

“Thank you for checking on us,” I said. “We really are embarrassed to get you up in the middle of the night.” Come to think of it, I didn’t know what time it was.

I closed our front door and stepped to my right. I could see the kitchen clock from there. Eight minutes after midnight. That meant the characters had probably arrived right at twelve or close to it. How witchy of them.

Nick ducked his chin and spoke so quietly I had to lean in. “What. The. Fuck?”

After dragging in a ragged breath, I said, “There’s a story. Let me get some ice for that and start an espresso.”

When he didn’t object to either suggestion, I filled a muslin dish towel with crushed ice, put it inside a plastic bag and tied the ends tight around Nick’s shoulder so it would stay in place.

“Ow,” he said when I cinched the ends tight.

“Sorry. This will help.” I moved to the espresso machine. Espresso wasn’t my favorite, but Nick loved it and he certainly deserved a little fuss and comfort.

“Scotty. For fuck’s sake, what just happened?”

He’d taken to calling me Scotty right after we met. The fact that I liked it caught me by surprise. I’d always been averse to nicknames, but somehow the affection behind it sounded like an endearment and I loved that there was a name I was called by only him.

I pulled the lever, which started a few seconds of loud swishing.

“Just a sec,” I said. As the espresso finished, I pulled a Mike’s Cranberry Hard Lemonade out of the back of the refrigerator where I kept it for July 4th, New Year’s Eve, and telling my new husband about the supernatural terrorists who’d been my unwanted childhood companions. I popped the bottle cap and took a big swig, liking that I could feel the slight burn make its way down my esophagus.

I set Nick’s espresso in front of him. “Would you like some Tylenol?”

“No,” he said.

“Advil?”

“Sit.”

I sighed. I sat. I began. “It started when I was a child.”

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