Witchmas

I Smell Trouble

Her name was Gloria.

"Hi, I'm Gloria."

She shook hands with a firm grip and eye contact. Four pumps up and down, full of confidence and elegance.

I almost didn't let go of her long fingers.

"Gloria," I said and she shivered.

I swear I didn't use magic on her.

It's just names have power, and sometimes when a magic user is feeling something, they accidentally use emphasis on the name, which releases a tingle of power.

Ever felt a ghost cross your grave? Or goosebumps when someone whispers in your ear?

That's magic folks.

Sometimes it's even accidental.

She smiled on purpose.

"I like the way you say my name."

She winked.

I took a sip of my craft beer, afraid I might say more.

She ordered a martini. Dirty.

My gut was a tumble of emotions, because of a few reasons. She was gorgeous, we had a chemical connection, one of those odd things you run across every so often where you meet a stranger and instantly they like you, and you like them and there's a hint of disrobing at some point involved.

Plus it had been awhile for me.

A long while.

Nervous, remember?

"I'm a little nervous," she confided.

"You're not the only one."

"Why?" she asked. "It's not like I don't talk to strangers every day. If I met you in line at the grocery store, we could talk about nothing for a while."

"It's the title."

"Date?"

"Too many connotations. Annotations."

She sipped her martini and watched me over the edge of the glass. Her eyes sparkled.

"Maybe you're right," she said. "There is power in words."

A little tickle crisscrossed the hairs on the back of my neck.

The door opened and three beautiful women stepped through.

"A lot more power than you think," I said to Gloria.

The newcomers had a bad case of bed head. All three of them. The lecherous part of me wondered if they caused it to each other. The more reasonable side of me felt the vibrations from across the room.

They used magic, strong wizards by the vibes they were shooting and they were pissed.

I thought about Tyrone and the grimoire stashed in his pouch.

"Am I not distracting enough?" Gloria teased.

I glanced up to see her watching me watch the wizards across the room. The wizards lined up to form three points of a triangle, the tallest one in front.

Scratch wizards then, witches.

I eased up to the edge of the barstool, planted one foot on the ground.

Witches normally needed time to construct a spell. Their magic was ritualized and needed focus.

Very powerful witches could skip a ritual with certain spells.

Certain destructive spells.

A powerful witch backed by two of her coven could do some real damage.

The lead witch glared toward the back of the room where Tyrone ducked behind a table.

Her fingers started weaving a tiny spell, something that looked pinpoint and precise.

Probably aimed at Tyrone.

Probably designed to kill him.

I slid off the stool and stood.

"Will you pardon me a moment," I said out of the corner of my mouth to Gloria.

I didn't wait for her answer.