SonofaWitch! Read online

  “Scarlet, Bob.” I put my best happy face on. “I’m so glad you could come on such short notice.”

  They both took a seat at the counter, but Scarlet’s hand rested on Bob’s shoulder, like she was holding him back.

  “Why did you call Scarlet? What do you want?” he growled.

  “I think we got off to a bad start today, Bob. I just wanted to invite you and Scarlet here to clear the air and get to know each other better.”

  “What do I need to know?” he demanded, his hairy knuckles turning white as he gripped my counter.

  “Bob,” Scarlet implored, her face looked tired and drawn. “Be nice.”

  He crossed his arms over his massive chest and I plunged forward, “I know that it must be hard for you to be in a relationship with someone like Scarlet. Guys always trying to snake you. I just want you to know, even though Scarlet is a stone-cold fox—” She was actually more like a warm, plucked chicken. “—I respect you and would never move in on your lady.”

  He seemed to consider this for a second, glanced at Scarlet who gave him an encouraging smile then said, “I appreciate that. You don’t know how hard I work keeping her safe.”

  “Let’s drink to that,” I turned back to my coffee station. “How do you take your java?”

  Moving the roses into position, I was ready to work some dark, witch magic.

  “Double cream, double sugar,” he replied. “She’ll have the same.”

  I plunked the roses into the bottom of my over-sized coffee mugs and poured the hot liquid over them. They dissolved immediately but I had to block them for a second when I poured the cream in because a puff of red smoke rose from each cup. I poured my own coffee into a regular sized mug so I wouldn’t drink one of theirs by mistake.

  “Here we go. On the house.” Setting the coffee down in front of them, I saw Bob give Scarlet such a devoted look, I kind of felt bad. I had to remind myself that he didn’t actually love her, he was cursed, and no matter what, that was wrong. I reached over, grabbed mine, and held it up. “A toast. To new friendships.”

  “To new everything,” Scarlet declared and sipped her drink.

  Bob wasn’t exactly genteel, slurping his coffee down in big sloppy gulps. His hands were so huge my over-sized mug looked like a kid’s tea party cup in his grip.

  I wondered how long it would take for the spell to take effect.

  Not long. Bob fell off his chair and hit my floor like a sack of bricks.

  “Bob?” I called over the counter as he writhed on the floor. Scarlet didn’t look so hot herself, swaying and holding onto her seat to keep her balance.

  “What’s going on?” she cried.

  Bob started to bay and howl as he convulsed. Shemp, Larry, and Curly came running out of the kitchen at the sound of the commotion, armed with a spatula, wooden spoon, and rolling pin.

  “Canidra, James?” Larry asked, brandishing his wooden spoon like it was a baseball bat.

  “Everything is fine guys. Go back in the kitchen. Just a little spell reversal.”

  “No ut fromda, James,” Curly scolded me, ready to do some damage with the rolling pin.

  Bob howled from the floor. I had to confess. “Ok, everything is not fine.”

  “No suddua, James.” Shemp sounded pissed.

  “I know I shouldn’t get involved. But I’m always involved,” I replied. Scarlet fell on the floor next to Bob with a heavy thunk.

  “Guys? What’s happening to them?” I ran around the counter, kneeling next to the twitching, moaning couple. Bob let out a yelp of pain. When I tried to move Scarlet’s head away from Bob’s, he snapped his teeth at me and I jerked back, falling on my butt.

  “De whinda?” Shemp and the boys came around the counter and stood next to me, peering down.

  “Crystal. I mean Isolde. She did this. I needed her to remove a curse on them.” Scarlet moaned and twisted next to Bob, who was foaming at the mouth.

  The trio let out a deep, collective, “Ooooooooo.”

  Curly shook his knobby finger in my face, “Na Wenda Isolde, James!”

  Shemp poked Bob with his spatula. Bob responded with garbled growl.

  “I know. I know I shouldn’t mess with witches. But right now, I need your help. I’ve got to get these two over to Tristan and Isolde’s building ASAP. Help me get them into the van.”

  The three elves tucked their kitchen weapons under their arms and lifted Scarlet up like a sack of feathers. I ran outside and got the van ready, moving the baking racks and leaving the back doors open. Watching for any accidental witnesses, I held the kitchen door and they carried her into the back of the van.

  Bob was another matter.

  In the time it took to get Scarlet outside, Bob had morphed into a wolf-like hybrid, growling and thrashing in his unconscious state. Although the stooges only stood about three feet high, the trio were incredibly strong. Shemp took Bob’s shoulders, Curly his middle, and Larry brought up the rear, holding his legs.

  “Jabba?” Shemp asked, checking if they were ready, then counted down, “Mumba, duba, thrat!” Hefting him up on their shoulders, the stooges marched him out, singing what sounded like a military cadence under their breaths.

  Larry lost his grip two thirds of the way to the van and Bob hit the ground with a painful sounding thud!

  “Careful, guys,” I admonished as they bent over him, talking amongst themselves.

  Nodding in unison at their new plan, the three got behind Bob and proceeded to roll him over the gravel driveway. I winced as I saw him being turned like a hot dog on a metal roller in a gas station, a piece of gravel stuck to his right cheek. With every flip, Bob let out a snarly “oomph.”

  They got him to the open doors and unceremoniously tossed him onto the back floor of the van next to Scarlet. After wiping their hands on their aprons, they high-fived each other.

  “Seeba, James!” The three called dismissively as they walked past me, apparently done with my nonsense, wanting to get back to their baking.

  “Seeba, guys. Thank you.”

  They slammed the back door to the kitchen behind them for good measure.

  Shaking my head, I jumped into the back of the van, took both Scarlet and Bob’s pulses. I had no idea where to dump a Fair Folk’s body if they died. They left that part out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

  Satisfied they were alive, I closed the doors and got in the driver seat. I cringed at the thought that I was starting the van again. Using it three times in one day was downright repugnant to me, but I had to get them to Isolde, carbon footprint be damned.

  Bob let out a piercing howl. I glanced back to see he was more wolf now than man. His fangs were glistening with drool as his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth while he panted.

  I hit the gas pedal hard.

  I think I made it back to Isolde’s building in record time. I had told Siri to call Crystal Smith’s office for me as I tried to stay under the speed limit. She answered on the first ring. When I pulled up at the curb, Isolde/Crystal and her husband were standing there, waiting for me. She was still wearing the brown shapeless dress and high heels. Still looking like I should never have gone to see her in the first place. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach.

  “I knew it wouldn’t take long,” she said and held out her hand to me as I got out of my van. “It never does.”

  “What’s happening to them?” I asked.

  “Give me your keys,” she said, like I hadn’t even spoken.

  “Why?”

  She cocked an eyebrow, “You have two non-humans in the back of your van shedding curses they’ve carried for hundreds of years. It’s not an easy thing to do. They need special attention. I’ll get your vehicle back to you when we’re done here.”

  “What are you going to do to them?” I asked.

  “Exactly what I promised.” Her palm was out, held flat, waiting for me to give up my keys. There was a momentary stand-off, until Bob let out another ear-splitting howl. I looked back thr
ough the window. Scarlet was white as a sheet and shaking. Reluctantly, I handed them over.

  She seemed amused at my hesitance. “You can go now, James. There’s nothing left for you to do.”

  “Do you want our driver to take you back to South Buffalo?” Tristan asked me.

  I waved him off. “I can walk.” Shoving my hands in my pockets I backed away, still hearing weird sounds coming from inside my van. “Are you sure they’ll both be okay?”

  Isolde’s eyes twinkled like hard, cold diamonds. “That’s not what you asked for. You asked for their love curse to be broken. Go back to your coffee shop. My men will bring your vehicle to your café tonight and leave it. I’ve got to finish what you started.”

  That statement certainly didn’t make me feel any better. I walked all the way back home feeling sick to my stomach. I kept telling myself that this was what Scarlet wanted, to be free of Bob and for Bob to be free of her. Also for Bob not to eat her would-be boyfriends. That wasn’t so much to ask, was it?

  But Isolde was a witch. And witches can’t be trusted. Ever. Except in desperate moments. Like Scarlet’s. And then came paying the price.

  The price.

  I hunched my shoulders as I walked and kept checking the step counter app on my phone to keep my mind off what was happening in that downtown high rise. This is why I should not get involved in Fairy Tale Folk stuff. I should make coffee and play video games and swipe right on Tinder. Like a normal guy my age. I kicked a stone with my thrift store Doc Martens boot.

  Stupid fairy tale curses.

  Two days later, I was back in the coffee shop, wiping up a chai latte someone had spilled, when Scarlet set off the strand of bells that hailed the entrance of each new customer. I was ecstatic to see her, after leaving her with Isolde like I did, alive and kicking. I laid awake all night that first evening, wondering if she and Bob were okay. When she didn’t come in the next day I debated going to see Isolde, but I chickened out. I told myself that morning if I didn’t have any word by the end of the day I’d go back to the high rise. Now there she was, walking into my shop, with all her limbs and healthy.

  But there was something different about her. Her hair was pinned up, showing off a long, slender neck. Her white dress clung to her curves in all the right places. She looked less bird-like and more swan-like. A few of my male customers were regarding her with admiration from their seats around the shop. A wood goblin missed his mug entirely as he stared and poured a pile of sugar onto one of my tables near the back.

  There was no sign of Bob.

  “So? Did it work?” I threw my rag into the bucket I kept in the corner as she sidled up to the counter. Her transformation was really startling. She had gone from someone I would’ve called homely to stunning. It was all her same features, but somehow, better.

  “It did.” She looked forlorn.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “The price,” she snapped. “That’s the problem.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I put my hand up. “You wanted to be free of Bob, correct?”

  She nodded. “I just didn’t realize Bob was so ready to be free of me. He’s already dating some woman from Crystal’s agency. Apparently, he’s a millionaire. I had no idea Bob was playing the stock market outside my apartment door while I slept.” She stuck her lower lip out in a sexy pout. “I guess the new girl doesn’t mind he sleeps on the floor and chases the mailman.”

  “But that’s good, right? He’s happy. Now you can be with your new friend.”

  She gestured to her well put together body. “Look at me. I woke up beautiful. I met Douglas in person for the first time yesterday. Now he’s just as devoted to me as Bob was. He’s waiting for me in the car.” A tall, willowy Sprite walked by, giving her the side eye as he made his way to the restroom. She shuddered. “I can’t go to the market, the gas station, or the pet store without a man asking me out.”

  It dawned on me what Isolde did. She swapped the curse between them. And got a big commission from whoever the lady millionaire looking for love was.

  Never trust a witch.

  “What now?” I asked. “Try to reverse the curse again?”

  She picked at a napkin someone had left on the counter. A big ring of brown tea stained the center. She tore at the edge, leaving a little pile of white paper flakes for me to clean up. “No. I’m done with witches and curses. I’ll just have to learn to live like this. And try to remember Douglas liked me before Crystal got involved.”

  “He did. There was no magic involved in that,” I pointed out.

  “I’ll always wonder, you know? If it’s me or part of the reverse curse.” She threw a wad of bills down on the counter.

  “What’s this?” I asked, picking up the roll of hundreds.

  “For your time. Goodbye, James Jonah Fitzgerald. I should never have come here.” She got up, pushed past some incoming customers, and disappeared out the door.

  It was Hans and Greta.

  “Was that Red?” Hans asked, sliding into his usual spot.

  “She got a makeover?” Greta grabbed an apple strudel off the display and bit into it, dropping crumbs onto the torn-up napkin. “I almost didn’t recognize her. Give me a house dark roast, please. And three of those muffins.”

  “Yep.” I started brushing the mess off into my hand. “That was her.”

  “So that was how Isolde removed the curse? By making her stunning?” Greta didn’t even try to disguise the bitterness in her voice.

  Sometimes it surprised me that with all their gifts—magic, long lives, mystical adventures—how human my Fair Folk customers really were. And how dense.

  “No, Gretel. She just traded curses.”

  “A life of being beautiful is a curse?”

  I set a coaster down in front of her. Hans was looking over the drink special menu like he hadn’t read it a thousand times. He came in every single day.

  I looked around. At the front table, two Gnomes were trying to drink cream out of over-sized mugs. Their pointy hats kept tipping forward, into the cream, which then dripped off onto their faces. They licked it off with their green tongues, laughing hysterically every time it happened and did it again. I loved my coffee shop. So it hurt my hipster heart that Greta just didn’t get it.

  “A life of uncertainty is.”

  “That’s no happy ending.” Greta said as she picked up the house roast I had set before her and blew the steam across the top of the mug.

  I looked at the two of them sitting at my counter and gave them a half-hearted smile. “Well, guys, we don’t all get those, do we? Let’s make the best of what we got. What do you say we get a pizza after I get off work and binge watch some Netflix?”

  “Really?” Greta asked.

  “It’ll be fun. Come on.”

  “I’m in,” Hans said. “I really want to watch the last season of Downton Abby.”

  “I was thinking Breaking Bad. No worries. We’ll vote on that.” I turned to Greta. “What do you say?”

  A smile spread across her face. “I’m in.”

  Hans looked at her, then back at me and said, “Now that I think about it, I have to go to my Pilates class. I keep missing it and Ashley, the instructor, said I need to work on my abs.” He gave me a wink as he sipped his drink. It occurred to me Hans hadn’t seen his abs, well, ever.

  Gretel’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll still come. Can we get sausage and pineapples on the pizza?”

  I returned the sparkle. “Whatever you want.”

  They may be fairy tale misfits, but they’re my Fairy Tale misfits.

  Lissa Marie Redmond lives and writes in Buffalo with her husband and two daughters. Her “James the Hipster” stories have appeared in two previous World Weaver Press anthologies: Frozen Fairy Tales and He Sees You When He’s Creepin’: Tales of Krampus.

  The Perfect Mate Fiasco

  Frances Pauli

  Rowan inhaled from her center, pulled up a tingle of earthy energy, and opened her eyes. The candle fl
ame lighting her altar fluttered. The wine in her chalice glowed bloody red, and the Golden Retriever in her living room let loose a jolly round of barking that shifted her attention from the spell she needed to go perfectly, without distraction.

  “Quiet, beast!” Rowan rubbed her forehead, streaking rose oil too close to her eyes. She blinked but only managed to make her vision blur more. “Ugh.”

  The dog barked again, bounded against the makeshift barrier of chairs and framed posters she’d propped up to keep him out of the kitchen. His name was Rex, and he had rotten timing.

  “Down. Bad dog.” Rowan stood and blew out the candle. A sixty pound, bouncing retriever and open flames didn’t mix. “Do you need to go out?”

  The spell had to happen when the moon was full and the stars were right. She’d waited long enough, lived alone in a house with only a dog for company long enough. She’d gathered her pink candle, the ribbon, herbs, and the oils she needed. She’d spent two weeks agonizing over the list of traits she considered vital in a partner.

  Rowan was ready.

  “Come on. Into the backyard, mister. And make it quick.” She slid one of the chairs back and lifted the poster of Celtic knot-work to allow the dog passage. He bounded through before she’d finished, plowed into her legs, and sent her tilting into the doorframe to keep from falling. “Rex, no!”

  Instead of hustling to the back door, the yellow dog danced around the kitchen. His tail thudded against her counters, and his square head regarded the altar with a curious expression. Ears up, head tilted to the side, and big jaws dangerously close to her components.

  “Sit. No.” She dropped the poster and scrambled to get his nose out of her herbs. “Bad dog.”

  Rex bounced, spun, and knocked the candle onto the floor. He didn’t need to pee. Rowan should have known better. The beast had faked her out and now he wanted to help.

  “Come on, Rex. Go to bed.” She sighed. Twenty minutes to midnight and he should have been snoring away on his pillow by now. “Please?”