Page 10 of Warlocks Don't Win
There was only one bed.
I stood there staring at it for a long time while my heart pounded in my throat.
Winston cleared his, standing right behind me. “We aren’t sleeping here.”
“No? But it’ll take at least the night to clear out the scent from the truck. I left my destenchers at the shop for Parody to use. I didn’t think the skunk would climb in my truck, and that I wouldn’t notice. Why didn’t I notice?” I sounded lost and forlorn.
He sighed heavily. “I could call for a driver. A helicopter. A?—”
I whirled around and put a hand over his face. My stinky hand over his stinky face. “No way are you attracting any more attention. We’re just lucky no one recognized you through the stench. And me. We want to go quietly, in, out, no one the wiser. I am not linking my name to Winston the Warlock.”
He frowned beneath my hand, but didn’t say anything until I lowered my hand and wiped it on my filthy, stinky lemon pants.
“Then I’ll go get your luggage. Do you have anything large enough for me to wear?”
I stared at him. Did I? I had an enormous pink cartoon character t-shirt that would probably fit over his shoulders. And a pair of black and white striped pants that were enormous and incredibly cozy with a drawstring waist. But those were my comfort clothes. I didn’t want Winston the Wicked to wear my comfort clothes.
“Or I could just lounge around in a towel,” he said with a flicker of a smile.
“The black suitcase. The one with the silver stripe on the side. And here’s the tomato juice,” I said, smiling at the girl who came towards us with a wince, holding the bag of jars out as far away from herself as possible. She pinched her nose, dropped the bag and ran, leaving me alone with Winston.
“Was it something I said?” he deadpanned.
I elbowed him and went to retrieve the cans. “You get my bag while I bathe. Then you can bathe while I dress. Good plan. Okay.” I took those cans into the tiny bathroom and filled up the tiny tub.
It had been a long day. Between skunks, murderers, and warlocks, I hadn’t had a moment to breathe.
I sat in the tub filled with tomato juice, sinking deeper and deeper until only my nose was sticking out. What a miserable day. I didn’t want or need a familiar, but I had one wandering around somewhere. The second I’d opened my door in the motel parking lot, she’d been out like a shot, disappearing into the shadows with one wave of her jaunty tail.
“Tolliver is not a girl name,” I said out loud. I talked to myself from time to time, which was fine because I was alone. It was fine. I’d be alone again soon, and then I could figure out how to unbind the creature without killing it. Witches did replace familiars, using their death to fuel the binding to the nextcreature. I wasn’t killing Tolly. Tolly…Ver…Vervain. She’d have a nice surname since she was already Tolliver the Terrible.
I soaked in tomato juice until I was pruny, dunked my head and felt like I was in one of my mother’s creepy seances. Did blood smell better or worse than skunk spray? Either way, not great, and adding the scent of tomatoes wasn’t helpful.
I finally finished soaking and got out, covered in tomato juice. Winston would have to soak in the tub before I drained it and could take a real shower. I wrapped myself in a towel and left the room, stopping abruptly when I saw Winston standing there, being patient while he waited for me to come out, wearing a towel and covered in tomato juice.
“Um, I left the juice in the tub,” I said lamely, gripping the top of my towel with stained fingers and feeling very naked and vulnerable, particularly with him looking at me like that.
He nodded, eyes on the ends of my dripping hair. “Yellow, pink, and red. It’s a look.”
Oh. That’s what he was thinking, not that I looked so naked beneath my towel. I scrunched up my nose, and turned sideways, pointing at the bathroom. “Your bath awaits.”
He gave me the slightest smile before he went past me and closed the door. I was covered in tomato juice, but that didn’t stop me from flinging myself over the bed while my heart raced stupidly in my stupid chest. And he was probably going to come out of there in a towel, and I’d have to have clothes for him to wear, or he’d have to wait for me to scramble around in my towel to get something out for him while he watched, judging my hair. We used to mock people together, those pretentious try-hards who were so desperate for attention.
I rolled off the bed and went through the suitcase, pulling out the pink shirt and striped pants. He’d look as tacky as me. We’d match. Like a real couple of pretentious posers.
I held still for a moment. In the front hall of the haunted mansion hung our engagement portrait. We’d looked like a real couple, perfectly matching, because I used to care about that sort of thing, and he’d been the perfect foil to my purple dress, his tie a subtle paisley with bits of violet, not much, just enough to hint at the color of his magic. Purple was my favorite color, even if my magic naturally manifested as green.
I pulled out clothes for me. I’d take them into the shower with me when he came out. That was a good plan. And then…
I glanced out the window at the dark sky. I was exhausted. It was all Tolly’s fault, because binding to a familiar was big magic that made everyone weak until the binding stabilized. I’d be sleeping on the floor, but that would be better than crashing the truck.
Where was Tolly? In the woods behind the motel, probably.
Dinnercame in my head, along with an image of some kind of desicated carcass. I held onto that image and analyzed it. A mammal, the curve of the jaw and those teeth, a predator. A fox or a coyote. Maybe I should collect the bones and work out a… No. I didn’t need fresh bones to do spells with. That was for curses, not curse breaking. What did I know about breaking curses? Practically nothing, but there were books that specialized in breaking curses in the old library.
I pulled out my black sweats and a set of purple and green striped underwear, along with a pair of very large men’s boxers I used as night shorts. I’d burn them after Winston wore them. Of course I would. They were old and ragged, anyway. And now I wanted to burn them before Winston saw them, but he was there, wearing a towel around his slim hips, showcasing a breathtaking swathe of perfect tan skin. Muscles, but on his skin, he wore a plethora of mage marks. He’d been working on his magic hard over the last fifteen years. And his muscles, too.He was everything a warlock should be, tough, strong, powerful, and… Was that a sage plant tattooed over his heart?
I pointed at it. “What’s that? Doesn’t match the rest of your power marks.”
