Witchful Thinking.

by H. P. Mallory.

Acknowledgments.

Excerpt from The Witch is Back.

aSo, no more ghostly encounters?a Christa, my best friend and only employee, asked while leaning against the desk in our front office. She was referring to the fact that the previous evening Iad seen my first ghost.

I shook my head and pooled into a chair by the door. aMaybe if you hadnat left early to go on your date, I wouldnat have had a visit at all.a aWell, one of us needs to be dating,a she said, knowing full well I hadnat had any dates for the past six months.

aLetas not get into this again aa aJolie, you need to get out. Youare almost thirty aa aTwo years from it, thank you very much.a aWhatever a youare going to end up old and alone. Youare way too pretty, and you have such a great personality, you canat end up like that. Donat let one bad date ruin it.a Her voice reached a crescendo. Christa has a tendency toward the dramatic.

aIave had a string of bad dates, Chris.a I didnat know what else to saya"I was terminally single. It came down to the fact that Iad rather spend time with my cat or Christa than face another stream of losers.

As for being attractive, Christa insisted I was pretty, but I wasnat convinced. Itas one thing when your best friend says youare pretty; itas entirely different when a man does.

And I couldnat remember the last time a man had said it.

I caught my reflection in the gla.s.s of the desk and studied myself while Christa rambled on about all the reasons I should be dating. I supposed my face was pleasant enougha"a pert nose, cornflower-blue eyes, and plump lips. A spattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose interrupts an otherwise pale landscape of skin, and my shoulder-length blond hair always finds itself drawn into a ponytail.

Head-turning doubtful, girl-next-door probable.

As for Christa, she doesnat look like me at all. For one thing, sheas leggy and talla"about five-eight, which is four inches taller than I am. She has dark hair the color of mahogany, green eyes, and rosy cheeks. Sheas cla.s.sically prettya"like cameo pretty. Sheas rail skinny and has no b.o.o.bs. I have a tendency to gain weight if I eat too much, I have a definite b.u.t.t, and the twins are pretty ample as well. Maybe that made me sound like Iam fata"Iam not, but I could stand to lose five pounds.

aAre you even listening to me?a Christa asked.

Shaking my head, I entered the reading room, thinking Iad left my gla.s.ses there.

I heard the door open.

aWell, h.e.l.lo to you,a Christa said in a high-pitched, sickening-sweet, and non-Christa voice.

aAfternoon.a The deep timbre of his voice echoed through the room, my ears mistaking his baritone for music.

aIam here for a reading, but I donat have an appointmenta"a aOh, thatas cool,a Christa interrupted, and from the saccharine tone of her voice, it was pretty apparent this guy had to be eye candy.

Giving up on finding my reading gla.s.ses, I headed out in order to introduce myself to our stranger. Upon seeing him, I couldnat contain the gasp that escaped my throat. It wasnat his Greek-G.o.d, Sean-Connery-would-be-envious good looks that grabbed me first, or his considerable height.

It was his aura.

Iave been able to see auras since before I can remember, but Iad never seen anything like his. It radiated from him as if it had a life of its owna"and the color! Usually auras are pinkish or violet in healthy people, yellowish or orange in those unhealthy. His was the most vibrant blue Iave ever seena"the color of the sky after a storm when the sunas rays bask everything in glory.

It emanated from him like electricity.

aHi, Iam Jolie,a I said, remembering myself.

aHow do you do?a And to make me drool even more than I already was, he had an accent, a British one. Ergh.

I glanced at Christa as I invited him into the reading room. Her mouth had dropped open like a fishas.

My sentiments exactly.

His navy-blue sweater stretched to its capacity while attempting to span a pair of broad shoulders and a wide chest. The broad shoulders and s.p.a.cious chest in question tapered to a trim waist and finished in a finale of long legs. The white shirt peeking from underneath his sweater contrasted with his tanned complexion and made me consider my own fair skin with dismay.

The stillness of the room did nothing to allay my nerves. I took a seat, shuffled the tarot cards, and handed him the deck. aPlease choose five cards and lay them faceup on the table.a He took a seat across from me, stretching his legs and resting his hands on his thighs. I chanced a look at him and took in his chocolate hair and caramel eyes. His face was angular, and his Roman nose lent him a certain Paul-Newman-esque quality. The beginnings of shadow did nothing to hide the definite cleft in his strong chin.

He didnat take the cards. Instead he just smiled, revealing pearly whites and a set of grade A dimples.

aYou did come for a reading?a I asked.

He nodded and covered my hand with his own. What felt like lightning ricocheted up my arm, and I swear my heart stopped for a second. The lone red bulb blinked a few times then continued to grow brighter until I thought it might explode. My gaze moved from his hand up his arm, and settled on his eyes. With the red light reflecting against him, he looked like the devil come to barter for my soul.

aI came for a reading, yes, but not with the cards. Iad like you to read a me.a His rumbling baritone was hypnotic, and I fought the need to pull my hand from his warm grip.

I set the stack of cards aside, focusing on him again. I was so nervous, I doubted any of my visions would come. They were about as reliable as the weather anchors you see on TV.

After several long uncomfortable moments, I gave up. aI canat read you, Iam sorry,a I said, my voice breaking. I shifted the eucalyptus-scented incense Iad lit to the farthest corner of the table and waved my hands in front of my face, dispersing the smoke that seemed intent on wafting directly into my eyes. It swirled and danced in the air, as if indifferent to the fact that I couldnat help this stranger.

He removed his hand but stayed seated. I thought head leave, but he made no motion to do anything of the sort.

aTake your time.a Take my time? I was a nervous wreck and had no visions whatsoever. I just wanted this handsome stranger to leave so my life could return to normal.

But it appeared that was not in the cards.

The silence pounded against the walls, echoing the pulse of blood in my veins. Still, my companion said nothing. Iad had enough. aI donat know what to tell you.a He smiled again. aWhat do you see when you look at me?a Adonis.

No, I couldnat say that. Maybe head like to hear about his aura? I didnat have any other cards up my sleeve a aI can see your aura,a I almost whispered, fearing his ridicule.

His brows drew together. aWhat does it look like?a aIt isnat like anyoneas Iave ever seen before. Itas bright blue, and it flares out of you a almost like electricity.a His smile disappeared, and he leaned forward. aCan you see everyoneas auras?a The incense dared to a.s.sault my eyes again, so I put it out and dumped it in the trash can.

aYes. Most people have much fainter glows to thema"more often than not in the pink or orange family. Iave never seen blue.a He chewed on that for a moment. aWhat do you suppose it is youare looking ata"someoneas soul?a I shook my head. aI donat know. I do know, though, that if someoneas ailing, I can see it. Their aura goes a bit yellow.a He nodded, and I added, aYouare healthy.a He laughed, and I felt silly for saying it. He stood up, his imposing height making me feel all of three inches tall. Not enjoying the feel of him staring down at me, I rose too and watched him pull out his wallet. I guess head heard enough and thought I was full of it. He set a hundred-dollar bill on the table in front of me. My hourly rate was fifty dollars, and wead been maybe twenty minutes.

aIad like to come see you for the next three Tuesdays at four p.m. Please donat schedule anyone after me. Iall compensate you for the entire afternoon.a I was shockeda"what in the world would he want to come back for?

aJolie, it was a pleasure meeting you, and I look forward to our next session.a He turned to walk out of the room when I remembered myself.

aWait, what name should I put in the appointment book?a He turned and faced me. aRand.a Then he walked out of the shop.

JOURNAL ENTRY.

Queen.

Iam not even really sure what to make of the word.

And the worst part is that itas not a detached, unfamiliar, or unthreatening word. Nope, Queen is an up-close-and-personal sort of thing, as in Iam going to be living and breathing it. Some would say being Queen is my destiny, I donat know about that but what I do know is that Queen is now my reality.

I am Queen of the Underworld.

Jolie Wilkins, Queen of vampires, werewolves, and other creatures you wouldnat want to invite to dinner.

Somehow the t.i.tle just doesnat fit me. Itas like trying to wear a pair of shoes that are way too big for my size eight feet. Iam not a Queen, I never wanted to be a Queen, and I definitely donat have the makings of a Queen. Iam just mea"a witch with some magical abilities, one of which is the power to reanimate the dead. But Queen? Not by a long shot.

One of the lessons I learned when I first became involved with the Underworld (less than two years ago) is that whatever the Underworld wants, it gets. Itas like the moba"once you get in, ainat no gettina out. And Iam ina"up to my neck.

So how did I become Queen? Was there a royal celebration? Were Prince William and Harry in attendance? Was Kate Middleton p.i.s.sed? No, no, and no. My entry into the royalty of the Underworld was more like trial by firea"Iad been in the middle of a war; Gwynn (the b.i.t.c.h) had just run me through with a blade in return for destroying her lover; Iad died and then Iad been on the receiving end of reanimation, myself.

The crowning glory of the whole battle came when Mercedes Berg, the supreme witch of all witches (also known as the prophetess), basically sh.e.l.l-shocked everyone with a magical burst of energy that lit up the entire sky. It was like G.o.das television had short-circuited. Everyone just stopped in their tracks, as if their brains had gone dormant. No one had been able to function. As if waving their white flags of surrender, everyone laid their weapons on the ground and just stared at one another dumbstruck. And that was the end of that.

Well, for them. For me it was just the beginning.

After Mercedes put the kibosh on our little war (a war for independence against the tyranny of the witch Bella, who wanted to be Queen), she informed me that I was now the Queen of the Underworld. And it wasnat like I ever submitted my rsum for the position. It had come completely out of left field, and the c.r.a.ptastic part of the whole situation was that I couldnat say no. Mob, remember?

So now Iam Queen and I want nothing to do with the position.

About now, Diary, I imagine your head is spinning. c.r.a.p, my head is spinning and Iam the one who lived through all of it. In a fit of desperation, I decided to write it all downa"to doc.u.ment how absurd my life has become in an effort to make sense of it all.

Actually, this is my first journal entry. I never really got into diaries because my life didnat warrant recording. It was a quiet, mundane existence fixed in routine, but I liked it well enough. I had a best friend, Christa, who never ceased to amuse me with her frivolous talk about s.e.x, s.e.x, and more s.e.x. I had my cat named Plum and I owned my own businessa"a tarot-card-reading shop. My skills, though limited, included reading peopleas fortunes through cards as well as detecting auras to determine if someone was sick or healthy by glancing at the colors reverberating off them.

The day Rand Balfour walked into my life, he changed it forever. Rand is a warlock and the first to inform me of my witchiness. He taught me pretty much everything I know a not to mention, Iam also head over heels in love with him. But more about Rand later.

At this point the important things to know are: First, the Underworld is polarized in a battle of good (Randas side, which includes me, a handful of witches, a few hundred vampires and werewolves, and the entire legion of fairies) versus bad (the evil witch Bella and her minions, including an equal number of vampires and werewolves, none of the fairies, but all of the demons).

They say religion is at the core of most wars. Well, that wasnat the case with this one. This war began over mea"and Iam not saying that to sound vain or to make you think I have an inflated sense of self-importance. Trust me, Iam really not that great. But once word spread throughout the Underworld that I could reanimate the dead, all the creatures went into a tizzy because no one before me had ever been able to do that. Bella, in true Bella form, wanted me on her side because like most villains, Bella sought powera"power over all the Underworld species. I guess I was a sharp arrow to have in her quiver.

As with any other war, what happened was heart wrenchinga"vamp fighting vamp and witch fighting witch. Of course, I didnat get to observe too mucha"just as I was impaled by Gwynnas blade, I was whisked back in time to Alnwick, England, in the year 1878. There I met the prophetess, Mercedes Berg. Well, as it turned out, shead been the party responsible for sending me back to 1878 in order to save me as well as herself. To put it bluntly, Mercedes needed a ride back to the future to avoid her own untimely death, and I played the part of bus.

As I mentioned earlier, Mercedes ended the war by raising her hands and causing that big ola magical burst, looking like a conductor leading the orchestra of the skies. After Gwynn stabbed me, Mercedes brought me back to life and I learned that she was the only other person besides me who could reanimate the dead.

And now? Itas only been about two hours since Mercedes stopped the battle. Now I find myself sitting in a cottage, alone, in a fairy village in the middle of the Cairngorms Forest in Scotland, waiting for I donat know what. After the war ended, we took care of the injured and the dead, while also taking Bellaas remaining forces captive. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention our victorya"Mercedes was on our side a thank G.o.d.

So here I am, camped out in this room, with not a whole lot to occupy myself, just waiting for word on what our next course of action will be.

PRESENT DAY.

FAE VILLAGE, CAIRNGORMS FOREST, SCOTLAND.

At the sound of a knock on the wooden door, I lifted my gaze from the parchment in front of me where Iad scribbled my journal entry. I laid my pen on the oak desktop and stood up, catching a glance at my outfit as I did so, and I had to laugh.

One fact about the fae and fae communities in general was that magic ruled. When you were in a fae village, and if you happened to be female, fae magic dictated you be dressed in what looked like Renaissance garb. My dress had an empire waist and was so long that it skimmed the ground. The material was light and gauzy, off-white, and bedecked with pink ribbon piping around the waist, the bust, and the wrist-length sleeves. I didnat even have to look at my hair to know it was three times its usual length, now grazing my b.u.t.t in a ma.s.s of golden sausage curls, kissed by pink cherry blossoms.

Iad gone into battle dressed in stretch pants and come out of it looking like Rapunzel.

I pulled open the door and found Rand standing before me. His chest was bare, revealing ripples of sinuous muscle. Randas physique is nothing short of awe inspiring, but his muscles arenat the type youad find in the gym. Heas not into lifting five hundred pounds and grunting as loud as he can to make sure everyone knows heas lifting five hundred pounds. No, Randas physique was sculpted from hard work and training with werewolves, master vampires, and fae kings.

I couldnat help but stare as my eyes trailed his beautiful upper body and rested on his blue-and-green-tartan kilt. While fae magic bedecked women in gowns, the same magic endowed men with kilts. It was like living in the book covers of every Highlander romance in existence.

Rand still wore the filth and misery of the wara"blood and dirt staining a face that surpa.s.sed all others in its beauty. Well, maybe the master vampire Sinjin Sinclair (who just happened to be Randas detested allya"long story) could compete with Randas good looks, but at the moment I wasnat thinking about vampires. No, instead, I was getting drunk on the beauty of a warlock.

Rand is tall enough, maybe six-two or six-three, but he appears even taller by the proud way that he carries himself. He has chocolate-brown hair, cropped short. If you took that same chocolate, melted it, and added just a touch of cream, youad have the color of his eyes. His complexion is what could only be called sun-kissed, without interruption by freckle or mole. And his face is pretty angulara"a strong jaw, cleft chin, and high, sharp cheekbones. The beauty of his lipsa"full and plump under his strong nosea"is on par with his gorgeous eyes. When he smiles, his dimples light up his entire face until you would swear you were beholding someone heaven-sent.

Neither of us said anything for a second or two. We just stood there, staring at each other as if we were from different planets and unable to communicate. And it made sense because, although we definitely loved each other, the best way to describe our relationship was as an emotional roller coaster. As such, I still didnat know where we stooda"whether we were together as in boyfrienda"girlfriend or a not.

Jolie.

It was Randas voice in my heada"complete with his thick English accenta"a form of communication he and I have shared ever since we first met at my shop in Los Angeles two years ago.

aRand.a I said his name out loud and suddenly his arms were around me, holding me tightly. I felt the heat of his skin against my cheek as he pulled me close. He smelled like spice and sweat, the scent of masculinity, the embodiment of Rand. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, wanting nothing more than to fill myself with his very essence.

aI lost you,a he whispered with a strained voice. He was referring to my death, when Gwynnas blade had pierced my stomach. He pulled away from me, and his eyes were gla.s.sy. aI will never forget the pain of watching you die. It will stay with me forever.a I didnat want to think about pain. Iad known my fair share but I also couldnat deny him the ache in his eyes. I wanted nothing more than to soothe him, to promise we would never be apart again. aMercedes brought me back,a I began. Iad only really been dead for a second or two, so did it really even count?

He crushed me against him, almost as if he was trying to remind himself I was truly flesh and blood, and not some figment of his imagination. He held me incredibly tightly, as if he could erase the past twenty-four hours by smothering me.

aI donat know whether to be indebted to Mercedes or furious with her,a he said. I wasnat sure where my feelings leaned on the subject either. I had a d.a.m.n good hunch that Mercedes knew beforehand that I was going to diea"there didnat seem to be much of anything she didnat know. But at the same time, she was the one who brought me back to life, so how mad could I be?

aLetas put it behind us now,a I whispered.

aYou said Mercedes was the prophetess,a Rand continued. aAre you sure?a I nodded. If I was sure of anything, it was that Mercedes was the prophetessa"the fabled and legendary witch to end all witches. The prophetess was rumored to be able to change history, something Mercedes had artfully demonstrated by pulling me back to 1878. Her magic was so potent, it was scary.

aYes, Iam positive.a The image of her manipulating the sky came to mind. aDidnat you see how she ended the battle?a I mean, h.e.l.lo, if that wasnat proof I didnat know what was.

He nodded but didnat say anything else, just continued to hold me, stroking my head like I was a child. Finally he spoke, and his voice was soft.

aAnd what is this about you being Queen?a That was a tough subject, and I could read lots more into Randas question than the mere fact that he asked it. Rand wasnat crazy about any form of monarchy, no offense to the Queen Mum. Head rebelled against Bellaas plans to become Queen of the Underworld, and even though he and I were allies and I was as different from Bella as day is from night, I couldnat imagine head be any more eager to see me ascend to the throne. No, Rand believed in the ideals of democracy and justice. Even though he was as English as tea and crumpets, he could easily have been an American revolutionary from the eighteenth century based on his feelings about equality, liberty, and freedom. And he did make a mean apple pie.

aI donat know,a I answered, which was sort of the truth. I mean, I didnat know what Mercedes had in mind for me, and although Rand had been there to witness everything she had to say about me becoming Queen, there hadnat been much. In fact, as I recall, she said Iad become Queen and it was my destiny to unite the creatures of the Underworld, and that had been that.

aMercedes made it sound like prophecy,a Rand continued, eyeing me as if he thought I knew more than I was letting on.