What Not to Were Read online

  She was Kirby’s target?

  Her heart pounded in her chest, crashing against her ribs. Winnie’s magic was in a box and Kirby planned to steal her memory, too?

  Oh, these witches made werewolves seem like fuzzy kittens.

  Daphne bumped into her from behind. “Plan?”

  “Go back!” she hissed.

  “Um, yeah. No. Not going to happen. What’s going on?”

  “She has Winnie’s magic in a box. Can you put magic in a box?”

  Greta gripped her whistle. “Oh, hell. Seven damn hells. She has a box. How did she get her hands on an appropriation box?”

  Calla turned to look at them both. “This is bad, yes?”

  “The worst,” Gus said.

  “Because?”

  “Because if we don’t get that box back, Winnie’s magic is gone forever,” Clive whispered.

  “Note to self, read the witch’s guide on all things crazy. Are you kidding me?”

  “Not a joke,” Flora assured her.

  “I thought Winnie was super-duper powerful?”

  “Oh, she is, but magic can be stolen. And getting your hands on an appropriation box is huge,” Daphne said. “It’s like the Holy Grail of vessels to steal and contain magic.”

  “I thought bloody wands were the Holy Grail?”

  “Okay, so we have two Holy Grails. Do you want to dicker about numbers or do you want to make a plan here?” Greta asked.

  A plan. She’d never felt more inferior in her entire life. She was a mere werewolf, with nothing but brute strength on her side. How did you fight off crazypants with a good right hook?

  A good right hook.

  If she could knock that box out of Kirby’s hands and someone could grab Nash and Winnie, they might stand a chance.

  Turning to the group, she said. “Okay, here’s the plan…”

  * * * *

  “Kirby? Hey, honey. What are you doing?” Calla asked softly, strolling through the barn doors and across the floor littered with straw and dirt. She refused to even look at Nash, or she might break and take Kirby out before it was time. It was all about the timing.

  Kirby whirled around, the box firmly in her grasp. Her eyes were glazed and shiny, her skin damp with perspiration. “Calla!”

  Calla smiled, focusing on one thing, and one thing only. Getting that damn box. “Oh, Kirby,” she chided softly. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you just come to me and tell me how you felt?”

  Kirby’s mouth opened but no words came out.

  Calla clucked her tongue. “I’m so hurt.”

  Kirby faltered, her eyes darting around the room before she focused on Calla’s again. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I…I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you. I love you so much, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. He doesn’t love you. He forgot all about you!”

  Calla kept approaching, her feet shuffling in slow, forward steps. “He did, didn’t he? Kind of a jerk, right?”

  Her face went ugly then, distorted and so unlike the Kirby she thought she knew. “He’s no better than a trough of pig slop. All men are filthy creatures. All of them!”

  “So why all the fuss, Kirby? I’ll go with you, if you want.” She smiled then, tamping down the greasy slime of her disgust.

  Kirby’s face brightened in surprise and hope. “You…you will?”

  “Of course I will. All you had to do was ask. Now, give me your hand and let’s walk out of here before we find ourselves in a whole lot of trouble we don’t need. Okay?”

  Kirby’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying!”

  Calla continued to move toward her, her hand outstretched. “Why would I lie to you? You’re my friend, aren’t you? Friends don’t lie to each other.”

  But Kirby began to back away. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll disappear forever and take that stupid bitch’s magic with me! I hate her, too! All of her crappy stories about how awesome it is to be a good witch. I hate the timed showers and cooking meals for those idiots who are simpletons with brooms. I hate the smell of the seniors and their stupid dentures. The only thing I loved was you, Calla. You and the center. Because you loved the center.”

  “That’s true. I do love the center, Kirby. But I love you, too. So if that means leaving the center behind, we can start one somewhere else, right?”

  There was a long pause—long enough for Calla to see Kirby was trying to process her offer, wrap her twisted brain around the idea that she would go with her willingly.

  And that all changed in an instant. “You. Lie!” she roared, her face red, her eyes on fire.

  The moment Kirby snapped was the moment Calla lunged for her, pulling her arm back with the speed of light and landing a punch square in her jaw. The crack of her bones echoing in the barn.

  Chapter 12

  Kirby wobbled, the box teetering in her hand before it fell to the ground.

  “Dive!” Calla screamed at Greta, who charged in and lunged for the box.

  But Kirby was back on her feet faster than Calla would have ever given her credit for. She nailed Greta in the head with her foot, stomping the side of her skull and scrambling toward the box, now lying halfway across the floor.

  Calla made a run for it as Daphne waved her hand and shot upward, pulling an unconscious Winnie from the rafters and back to the ground.

  “Calla!” Nash bellowed. “Duck!”

  Just as her fingers almost had the box within their grasp, a loud crash quaked the floor, followed by the creak of wood.

  A piece of the barn wall came crashing down, narrowly missing her head as she rolled to the left, trying to relocate the box.

  A high-pitched yell pierced through the barn, with Gus kamikaze-ing right behind it. He leapt through the air and landed on Kirby’s back, wrapping his arm securely around her neck. “That’s for not letting me have Cheez-Its!”

  But he was no match for Kirby; she flung him off like a speck of dust before setting her sights on Daphne.

  Calla pushed herself upward, blocking out everything but getting to that box and Nash. It was almost at his feet. She crawled across the floor as the room began to collapse around them, dust choking her and filling her eyes with a haze of sheetrock.

  Clive made a run for Nash, zipping around behind him. “I got him, you get the box, Calla!”

  “No!” Nash roared. “Don’t touch the bonds, Clive! She has them rigged. If you release me, it’ll kill you! Get out—get out now. Go!” he ordered.

  Calla’s eyesight might be a hot mess, but her ears were pretty damn good. Hearing Nash panicked—solid, tough as nails Nash—left her panicked.

  Someone would end up dead if they tried to release his restraints?

  Oh God, this was the eye of madness, the center of a crazy storm. No way was she leaving here without every single person she loved. Nash included.

  “Clive!” she hollered. “Get out! Get everyone out!”

  But Clive wasn’t listening. “No man left behind!” he bellowed back, reaching for Nash again.

  But Nash scooted away from him. “The whole place is going to fall apart, Clive! Everything is rigged. Your magic isn’t strong enough to stop it. Take Calla and the others and get out!”

  And that was when Calla went a little crazypants herself. Sheer grit and determination made her push her way across the floor, ignoring the glass breaking all around her. Ignoring the sting of it digging into her flesh as she stayed low to the ground, slithering, reaching.

  She was so close—so damn close, the tips of her fingers actually grazed the box, but then she heard Flora scream, “Calla, on your left!”

  Her eyes caught the brief glimpse of Kirby just as she waved her hands and lifted Calla off her feet, hurling her into what was left of the barn door.

  She hit it with a thud, sliding down and landing in a pile of broken wood. But then Daphne was there, shooting a ball of fire directly at Kirby’s head, making her duck. “Inco
ming!”

  And that’s when opportunity presented itself. Calla lunged across the floor, skidding into the bale of hay Nash sat on, her hand firmly around the box.

  She pushed herself off the floor and rose just as Kirby came for her. “Flora! Go long!” she cried out before shooting the box though the air with everything she had in her. But Kirby steamrolled her, slamming her against the floor in a move a wrestler would be proud of.

  Dust flew up all around her as her vision became hazy and she fought unconsciousness. Kirby’s face swam in front of hers as she grabbed a handful of Calla’s shirt and screeched, “I loved you!” before slamming her head into the hard floor of the barn.

  The blow to her head left her dizzy, but not so dizzy she wasn’t able to rear upward, jutting her hips with as much force as she had left in her, knocking Kirby off her.

  Calla rolled away and drove her body upward and onto her feet, just in time to see Flora open the box over Winnie’s prone body and hear a scream of rage fly from Kirby’s mouth.

  Winnie popped up like she’d never been down and instantly snapped her fingers and then everything stopped.

  Planks of wood peeling from the walls stopped midair. Particles of dust and paint hovered. No one moved except for Calla. She could still move.

  Pushing her hand through her hair, she watched Winnie float across the floor and land in front of her. “Honey? Are you okay?”

  Calla threw her arms around her friend’s neck and squeezed as hard as she could. “Oh, thank God! Thank God you’re okay.” She fought the press of tears as the fear dissipated and sweet relief replaced it.

  “Calla, I want you to listen to me carefully. Take everyone out of here and go back to the house. They’re all fine, and they’ll all know why I have to stay behind. I promise. But I need your help. Even as a witch, I’m only affective in one place at a time, and I need all my strength for these next moments in order to wipe the place clean of her evil magic and cleanse it.”

  Her eyes went wide. “But why aren’t you coming with us?” Not a chance in hell she was leaving her here alone with Kirby.

  Winnie’s eyes went sad, and filled with a regret Calla didn’t quite understand. “I also have to do something I don’t want to. But it’s for the good of everyone. Kirby is dangerous, not just to others but to herself. Far more dangerous than I think anyone anticipated. She has to be dealt with.”

  Suddenly, she understood very clearly. Yet there was a part of her, despite what Kirby had done, that hated this. “What will you do to her?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I can only tell you that she’ll be dealt with. Now go, please. Because this is harder than you can imagine, and I have to do it alone.”

  Calla licked her dry lips, wanting to ask again what would happen, but too afraid to hear the answer. Instead, she opted to trust Winnie. “Okay. But please be safe.”

  Winnie smiled, but her eyes were so full of sorrow. “I promise, this time I have a handle on things. Oh, and before you go, something to note. Nash’s love for you was stronger than Kirby’s spell—it’s why he called you Cupcake Lady. He was starting to remember. I hope you realize the magnitude of that. He fought off a spell he didn’t even know he was under because his love is so deep and real. You deserve that, Calla. Don’t ever forget it.”

  “Never,” she whispered. Calla hugged her once more, watching as she released Nash from his deadly restraints. Then, without pause, she began carrying everyone out like some batch of bizarre statues, keeping her eyes focused on the task and refusing to even take a glimpse at Kirby.

  She placed everyone gently on the ground outside the barn one by one. When she hauled Nash up, she planted a kiss on his forehead and held him tight.

  She didn’t look back. She didn’t question Winnie’s choice. Instead she sat down on the ground and waited for everyone to stir.

  Gus was the first, his whistle long and wheezing from his throat. “Ooo-weee, that was a helluva a fight! Let’s do field trips more often, kiddo.”

  Calla inspected his face, running her hands over the wrinkled surface. “You are a bad ass, sir. I’m very impressed with your chokehold. Oh, and thank you. I can’t say it enough,” she whispered, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

  Flora groaned, rolling to her side and reaching for the hand Gus offered her. She sat up with a moan, grass stuck to her hair.

  Calla plucked a piece of it from the side of her head. “I think the Dallas Cowboys are insane not to offer you a contract after that catch, Miss Flora.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “Bah! Who wants to be all sweaty and smelly when you can wear one of those cute cheerleader outfits?”

  Calla barked a laugh, rousing everyone else.

  Nash was immediately on his feet, his eyes scanning the area and landing on Calla. He didn’t say anything when he reached down for her and pulled her into his arms, hugging her hard.

  And then she cried, the tears falling from her eyes and soaking his dirty shirt.

  “Christ, Calla. You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered against the top of her head.

  “Ditto.”

  “Don’t ever, ever do something that crazy again. Got it?”

  “Deal, as long as you don’t ever, ever forget who I am again.”

  He chuckled, the vibration against her chest, warming her from the inside out. “Do I know you?”

  “Oh, that’s rich, pal,” Clive said, his shirt torn and his plaid shorts almost shredded. “You’re one funny guy. Maybe you should take it on the road?” He knelt down beside Greta, whose head was bleeding, and used the edge of his dirty shirt to wipe the droplets away.

  Greta popped upward, her hand automatically going for her whistle before she ever touched the gash on the side of her head. “Okay, so just for future reference? Next time you forget your lady love—I’m out.”

  Daphne rose to her knees and held out her hand to Greta, who helped her up. “I’m gettin’ too damn old for that kind of abracadabra, people. Next time we group magic, let’s whip up something fun. Like fairies and unicorns, huh?”

  Everyone laughed as they began to make their way out of the field leading to the barn, Calla’s hand wrapped in Nash’s.

  She stopped dead, right in the middle of their trek back to Winnie’s. “Guys?”

  They turned as a group, all tired eyes and weary bodies pointing in her direction.

  “Did I say thank you? I don’t think I did. I’m not one of you, and I know that, but as you all know, my kind doesn’t consider me one of theirs either. Yet, they weren’t here tonight—right behind me, taking up for me as though I really belonged. So…” She faltered, her throat tight, but she gulped it back. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

  Daphne blew her a kiss and grinned. “Welcome to the coven. Wanna borrow my cauldron?”

  Everyone laughed, clapping each other on the back and setting their feet back in motion again, and as they plowed through the dark, Calla’s heart settled back in her chest, the easy beat of it peaceful.

  And she knew. She was exactly where she belonged. With the seniors at the center…with her grandfather…with her friends—and with Nash.

  Forever Cowboy Nash.

  “Hey, Calla?” Gus called over his shoulder.

  “Yes, Gus?”

  “Next time we do a daytime excursion, could we maybe just do the zoo?”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “You bet, buddy. Monkey’s for everyone.”

  Three months later

  Calla held up the ring so Daphne and Winnie could see it under the lights of the rec room. “Wow—how do you hold your hand up with that big ol’ thing on your finger? It’s a wonder you can even move it,” Daphne teased, giving her a hug. “So stinkin’ happy for you!”

  “Congratulations, Calla. No hard feelings, I hope?” Fate asked, his handsome face wreathed once again in a smile.

  “You mean because you spewed some cryptic life-or-death message about my ent
ire existance falling apart then passed out like a drunk after a fifth of whiskey? Never!” she joked with a grin.

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful tonight. I hope you and Nash have a long, healthy life together. And now, I’m going to take my wife for a spin around the dance floor.” He held out his arm to Daphne. “Beloved?”

  Daphne giggled and let Fate sweep her off to the middle of the rec room, where the seniors had set up a dance floor for her surprise engagement party, her long gold dress gracefully sweeping out as she moved her feet.

  “Where’s Marlboro Man?” Flora asked, her eyes twinkling, her smile bright.

  Calla smiled and squeezed Flora’s hand. “You look beautiful tonight, Miss Flora. I can’t believe you guys pulled this off without me finding out.”

  Clive stuck his head between them. “We’re like ninja party planners.”

  Flora wrinkled her nose. “There’s nothing like a little tapioca pudding to inspire some motivation round these golden-oldies parts. I promised Clive a week’s worth if he’d help me hang the lanterns.”

  The rec room looked incredible—they’d gone all out. White lantern lights hung from one end of the room to the other, an ice sculpture sat in the middle of a long buffet table full of food from everyone in town. Snowflakes glittered from all the windows and champagne flowed from a fountain in golden, bubbly waves.

  When she’d first arrived, totally believing they were meeting Ben and Winnie to go to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in Paris, she’d been flabbergasted.

  And Nash had been in the middle of it all, on bended knee, his hat in one hand and a small gold box in the other. When he’d rumbled the words, “Wanna make cupcakes with me forever, Cupcake Lady?” she’d burst into tears and could only manage a nod.

  He’d scooped her up to the sound of cheering, and laughter, and glasses clinking together, and had kissed her senseless.

  The last three months had been some of the best of her life, and every day they worked to move past what happened that night with Kirby. They’d discovered Kirby had stolen the appropriation box from one of the witches she’d done time with in prison and it was now safely in the hands of Baba Yaga.