The Rise of the Dark Lord Read online

  I sighed and told him exactly what evening it out would entail.

  Gut wound or no, when I was done talking, without hesitation, his mouth came down on mine, certain body parts started quivering immediately (yes, he’s that good of a kisser) and he started evening things out.

  The next morning when I woke up, Ash was gone.

  How he left the bed without me knowing, don’t ask me, but he did. He could do things like that. He had abilities, they weren’t magical, but they were impressive.

  He’d divested me of my pajama bottoms (though left my panties intact, he’d just worked around them in very inventive and satisfying ways). I pulled my bottoms on and ran to the Turret Room.

  Aidan was lying, hands crossed behind his head, on my bed.

  Crap!

  First, I didn’t like gorgeous men to see me first thing in the morning unless I’d woken up beside them (then it was all snuggly fun). Didn’t like it that I was rushing from one man’s bed only to run into another one (okay, so, this was the first time that had happened, but considering the state of affairs, saw bad things for my future and didn’t have to be clairvoyant (which I was) to see them). Definitely didn’t like to run into gorgeous men before I could get my hair in order and wash the sleep out of my eyes.

  If I had my druthers, would run into Aidan after three cups of coffee, a shower and I’d given my face, body and hair the works.

  Second, was not taking it as a good sign Aidan was in my bedroom first thing in the morning.

  “Mornin’,” I said, counting on the fact that Aidan was normally quite understanding and sensitive.

  He rose, stood by the bed and leveled his eyes on me.

  One look at him told me I’d made a wee mistake.

  “Where were you all night?” His voice was arctic.

  Oops.

  “Um…”

  (Are you catching my drift about how confusing this could be?)

  “I thought your coming into my room last night was your way of telling me, since Wilding was here, that you’d be sleeping alone.”

  Er, maybe he didn’t know what I was telling him without actually telling him last night.

  “Are you telling me you slept in his bed when I was down the hall?”

  I wasn’t telling him that, he was figuring it out for himself.

  “Um…” I muttered again, mainly to fill the silence.

  In two strides, he was right in front of me.

  Took a step back, hit the door, and he closed in.

  Maybe, should mention at this point that Aidan was usually very charming.

  He was mellow, thought I was cute and funny, he was sweet and, as I said, understanding and sensitive.

  Every once in a while, mainly when he got angry, or when he thought (or knew) Ash was making a move, Aidan would change.

  He’d be a lot less charming and a lot more aggressive.

  Unfortunately, because I was a perverted freak, I liked Aidan a lot more (since I liked him a whole lot normally, this was off-the-charts “a lot more”) when he got aggressive and macho.

  Which meant, at that point, he was turning me on.

  “Matty, we need to get something straight.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  He moved closer.

  “Let’s try. Shall we, darling?”

  He was being sarcastic. He was being sarcastic with a posh English accent while calling me “darling.”

  That was new and it was also turning me on.

  Great.

  “I know you’re in a tough spot, I want to be sympathetic, but you have to return the favor,” Aidan said.

  “I thought I was by trying to even things out.”

  “Let Wilding worry about evening things out.”

  “He’s recovering from a gunshot wound!”

  “Don’t underestimate him.”

  I didn’t underestimate him. He might have lost a truckload of blood and still had stitches in his belly, but his mouth, tongue and fingers worked just fine.

  Hmm.

  “All right. I’m sorry. I told him last night there needed to be ground rules.”

  “Excellent idea. He and I’ll go over the ground rules and let you know.”

  Er, wha’?

  “I was thinking I should be in on the discussion.”

  Aidan smiled.

  “Why don’t you worry about other things?”

  “Like what?”

  “How about what your next move is?”

  “I don’t want to think about that. That freaks me out.”

  “I’m not sure you have much of a choice, Matty.”

  “Althea died. Ash got shot. The Underworld opened…”

  (Sorry, hadn’t yet mentioned that last part, that’s another long story.)

  I kept at Aidan.

  “And BecBec performed an Absolute Forbidden Spell and now she’s in Elf Gaol. I need time to recoup. Ash needs time to recover. We need to figure out where everyone stands, who’s with us, who’s against us. We need to get BecBec out of jail. And we need to find out where all the baddies are.”

  “Those sound like good places to start.”

  “Well, I can’t do that on my own! I need everyone to help. I need a clear head. I need to get good rest and you know I can’t sleep by myself. It’s scary up here all alone without Su and Viv. And what you’re saying is, I can’t sleep with Ash which means I can’t sleep with you.”

  More smiling. “I never said you couldn’t sleep with me.”

  Yeesh!

  “Go away, I need to have a breakdown.”

  His arm slid around my waist.

  “How far did he get last night, evening things out?”

  That was a leading question I wasn’t going to answer, so I didn’t.

  Instead, decided to be both manipulative and honest at the same time. That was, get his mind off his current topic but also express genuine gratitude.

  “I couldn’t have made it these last two weeks without you.”

  He got close again. “Yes, you could. I know this is difficult for you, darling, but for me to make things easier for you would open things up for Wilding. I was never prepared to do that but after we’ve had the last two weeks, I’m even less inclined to do it.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’m being honest.”

  So much for manipulating through genuine gratitude.

  “Countdown to nervous breakdown, ten, nine, eight…”

  He kissed me before I could quit counting. This wasn’t a hard and long kiss, it was short and sweet and, in its way, just as nice.

  Aidan left, I walked forward to my frilly, girlie bed and threw myself on it, face first.

  Decided the best thing to do was get organized.

  It had been two weeks since war began. It was acceptable to fall back and regroup but figured it was beginning to look like I didn’t know what I was doing (I didn’t but didn’t want anyone to know that).

  What does a girl do when she needs to get organized?

  She goes to Target, of course.

  Was standing in the stationery section having reverse culture shock.

  Americans had no idea how much choice they had as consumers.

  It wasn’t that shopping in England sucked.

  It was just that shopping in The States was so much better.

  I mean, purple Sharpie pens!

  How cool is that?

  Had chosen about seven hundred different colors, sizes and shapes of Post-it notes and just selected a rainbow package of Sharpies, all of these I placed in my cart, ready to organize the dickens out of this War of the Supernatural World business (after I’d assessed the hair accessories aisle, you never know where you’re going to find cute barrettes and bobby pins, you always have to be on the lookout) when a woman walked up to me.

  She was a normal woman, normal height, normal hair, normal clothes. She could stand, perhaps, to get a new bra ’cause the girls were hanging a bit low, but other than that�
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  “Are you Mathilda?’ she asked.

  Uh-oh.

  I didn’t get a chance to say a word before she whipped out a wand.

  A wand!

  Right in the middle of Target on Colorado Boulevard!

  And she tried to zap me.

  Egg yolk yellow and bile green pixie dust shot out of her wand…

  By the way, a witch’s magic reflects the witch.

  It’s almost like an aura, everyone’s is different.

  Most witches have two colors: Auntie Mavis, lilac and powder blue; Gran, scarlet and copper; Mom, butter yellow and gold; Viv, turquoise and sage green; Sue, grape and bronze.

  Since I’m The SuperWitch, my magic is stronger, more powerful and more complicated.

  Generally, it’s hot pink and shell pink, but depending on the spell, my mood and the power I need, more colors get added into the mix, including silver, fuchsia, purple and electric blue (the blue usually comes out if I’m pissed off).

  Anyhoo.

  And I waved my arm in front of me.

  A glittering array of shell pink and silver emanated from my arm, making a shield. The egg yolk and bile sparkles deflected off, snapped back and hit her in the forehead.

  She went back on a foot, and immediately, a massive case of acne broke out on her face.

  Gross!

  “You tried to hit me with an acne spell!” I yelled.

  She didn’t answer, she lifted up her wand, but before she could zap me again, I reached out and yanked it out of her hand.

  “Hey, give my wand back!” she shouted.

  “No! That’s not nice. I’m shopping and you just walk right up—”

  “Give me my wand.” She kept at it.

  “No!” I kept at it too.

  “You’re screwing everything up!” she yelled at me. “We have it sweet. No one knows we witches exist, except in books and movies and on that TV show with Alyssa Milano and the new takeoff one without Alyssa Milano.”

  There was a takeoff series of Charmed?

  “We can do whatever we want,” she finished.

  “And what do you want to do that people shouldn’t know about?”

  That stumped her (ha!) so she went back to her earlier topic. “Give back my wand.”

  “No.”

  “I said, give back my wand!”

  “And I said, no!”

  She grabbed my hair and yanked.

  “Ow!” I shouted then grabbed her hair and yanked.

  This escalated.

  In the end, we were kicked out by the security guards.

  On the sidewalk outside, I poked my tongue out at her and kept her wand.

  She told me to do something to myself that was anatomically impossible.

  Walked to my car (well, Mom’s car, an old, faded yellow VW Bug, I know, not original, and it kinda sucked it didn’t have heat, but it was really cute) and realized I hadn’t bought any of my Organize a War materials.

  Motored to the Target on Alameda.

  It was way out of my way but nothing but Target would do.

  Debated about sharing my Close Encounter with the Acne Kind with my family and the two men in my life.

  Luckily, didn’t have to come clean right away because Ash and Aidan were behind closed doors in the living room for what Viv called a “sit down” when I arrived home. Likely laying ground rules. This, I did not want to disturb. However, Mom, Viv and Su were eavesdropping.

  Left them to it and went to the Mother-in-Law Cottage at the back of the house (big living room with double doors opening on a small but sweet and sunny kitchen, one tiny bedroom, one tiny bathroom, all painted white with splashes of dusky colors—pink, blue, green, lavender—it was fab-you-las).

  Got out all my stuff and started to get organized.

  Okay, the war.

  See, for forever witches have been in the closet, hiding our powers. We have all these rules for engagement as in, you can’t do magic just to anyone, they have to ask, or you can do it to protect your Spellbound.

  I couldn’t just walk down the street and zap somebody a nicer outfit (even if they really, really needed one).

  But, if that person walked up to me and said, “Rescue me from this fashion disaster.” There you go, I can help.

  Pretty much everything you’ve heard of, from witches, vampires and elves/faeries (which I’ve mentioned) to werewolves, magi, wizards, sorcerers, sorceresses, goblins, trolls, etcetera are real.

  Very real.

  They’re just underground.

  Every once in a while, someone would see a supernatural being or experience magic, but if they ever shared this info, people just thought they were nuts. So, in the end, many people who did see magical beings or experienced magic just kept it to themselves.

  During my training last year, I got upset because I wanted to help someone and couldn’t because they hadn’t asked. That sucked. So, I decided, to hell with tradition, why were we hiding? We were good people, we did good things, we had nothing to hide.

  Time to come out, live amongst the normal humans in peace and harmony.

  Thought everyone would embrace this as obviously it’s a good idea.

  But everyone didn’t embrace it. There are people who like to be in the closet, they think it gives them the upper hand. All hidden powers and intrigue and the like.

  Totally stupid.

  Tried to live life my way, I wasn’t hurting anyone.

  The de facto Leader of the Traditionalists, Agatha Darling, tried to force me back in the closet (by kidnapping Rory and then, when I went to rescue him, electrocuting me à la Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon without the water or the Asian dude with the padded tongs, Agatha just had a manmade wand that shoots out lightning).

  Anyhoo.

  Did not take to kidnapping Rory (who I adore) and being electrocuted (that fucking hurt) so things got more and more out of control.

  Until Agatha kidnapped me, tried to slice away my power in an icky, Witching Hour (midnight, Hallowe’en) ceremony and then war broke out when my posse foiled her plans.

  That’s, essentially, the gist.

  So now, had to figure out what supernatural beings were with me (the vampires were, they’d already sworn allegiance, and both Le Société and The Institute were on my side, seeing as one of each of their brethren was going to get in my pants and create three babies). And which ones were against me (the trolls, goblins and werewolves didn’t see themselves walking amongst humans, so they were firm Traditionalists, that I knew).

  So far, the magi and wizards didn’t much care either way (they kind of kept to themselves anyway). The sorcerers, sorceresses and banshees wanted more diplomatic relations.

  The witches were split right down the middle.

  So, clearly, had a lot of organizing to do.

  The door to the Mother-in-Law Cottage opened and I turned to see Viv, Su, Josie and Windspear Jones walking in.

  Hadn’t yet mentioned Windspear Jones.

  He’s a friend of Su’s.

  Native American, totally great bone structure and lush always-tan skin. He teaches at the Denver Art Institute and he stepped up when we needed someone to be Josie’s fake fiancé so we could get her a fiancée visa. She’s English and we needed her to be able to live and work in America.

  He’s a pretty cool guy, quiet but nice to have around because he’s a) quiet (as I said) and b) easy on the eyes (in a big way).

  FYI: Windspear likes to be called “Mack.”

  Don’t ask me why, but if my name was Windspear (regardless how Native American kickass it was, it was a mouthful), I’d want to be called Mack too.

  “What the hell?” (Su, looking around the Cottage, mouth open)

  “I’m organizing the war.” (Me)

  “What are all these Post-it notes?” (Josie, wandering around and looking at the hundreds of Post-it notes I had up on the walls.)

  “Battle plans.” (Me)

  “This has my name on it.” (Viv, pointing at a set of
blue Post-its shaped as those little bubbles they put around cartoon character’s words which I’d written on in green sharpie.)

  “I know, those are your assignments. I’ve decided you’re one of my generals.” (Me)

  “Do I have Post-its?” (Su)

  “Yours are over there. The ones shaped like lips with purple writing.” (Me)

  “Do I?” (Josie)

  “Yeah, you’re next to Ash. His are the hot pink hearts with red writing. You’re the orange flower-shaped Post-its with teal writing.” (Me)

  “Where’s Aidan?” (Viv)

  “He’s the light pink hearts with navy writing.” (Me)

  “There’s, like, a million Post-its on the walls in here.” (Su)

  “There’s, like, a million things to do.” (Me)

  “This one says, ‘Get donuts.’” (Viv)

  “That’s one of your jobs, to make sure we always have donuts.” (Me)

  Viv’s cheeks started getting pink.

  “I’m not sure I want to be one of your generals if I have to get donuts.” (Viv)

  “You have to be one of my generals. You’re my sister and I’m the Chosen One.” (Me) “Anyway, donuts are important. The troops need sustenance.”

  Before Viv could blow, which I could see she was going to do, the door opened.

  Mom, Dad, Gabe, Ash, Aidan and Marcus walked in.

  Knew something was wrong because Mom looked serious, Dad and Gabe were smiling like something was hilarious, Marcus looked like he didn’t know if he wanted to smile or frown and Ash and Aidan looked pissed off.

  (I hadn’t gotten a lock on Marcus, by the way. I didn’t know him very well and I’d never been good with any of my boyfriends’ parents. Considering his son’s two possible futures, particularly the icky, heart-breaking one, I was giving Marcus a wide berth.)

  Coming up the rear was some woman I’d never seen, a no-nonsense, short haircut, no makeup, denim shirt over a white T-shirt, chinos and hiking boots.

  Holy Lesbionic Witch, Batman!

  “Hi,” I said to Lesbionic Witch.

  She gave me a top-to-to once-over.

  Then she said, “So, you’re Mathilda.”

  I looked around at everyone then to her. “Yeah.”