Page 38 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Midlife

Gnomes, Nests, and Golden Godfathers

Chapter Eight

Two delays and almost an entire day later, we were finally on terra firma. Oh, what a nightmare. Des had a meltdown on the plane after a grumpy old human kept kicking the back of his seat. Though I wanted to punish the cantankerous man with a spell of flatulence when he told me to ‘control my bratty kid,’ I didn’t want to have to smell his recirculating farts, so I did the next best thing. I whispered a curse for a painfully uncontrollable erection. The old dude couldn’t kick Des’s seat while he was stuck in the bathroom, occasionally returning with a sweat-drenched, crimson face and his jacket draped in front of his groin. The people sitting beside him asked to be reassigned to different seats rather than stare at his erect circus tent. When we finally landed and stood to disembark, he was still curled up in his seat, his face flushed while he avoided eye contact with everyone.

I grabbed our carry-ons, handing them to Des and Ethyl, and then I slipped my lipstick wand out of my purse, whispering a reversal spell. Had the old man suffered long enough? Probably not, but I wasn’t sure when I’d see him again, and I couldn’t leave him like that forever. He’d probably spend a small fortune on penile specialists and throw out all his little blue pills, so at least I’d saved someone the misfortune of having to sleep with him.

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a groan as his windsock deflated.

I leaned over the seat, shooting him a glare. “Never call my son a brat again.” Then I nodded toward his groin, flashing a knowing grin. “Or the next one won’t go down.”

The old guy’s eyes bulged as he turned ghostly white.

Ethyl let out a devious cackle while nudging me in the ribs. “Good one, Luci.”

Had I risked imprisonment and broken a few rules in the witchcraft guidebook? Yes. Was it worth it? Also, yes.

Witches weren’t allowed to curse humans out of spite, but in my defense, this curse had also stopped him from bullying a striga child. Besides, nobody would know but Ethyl and me.

Des absolutely hated the crowded lines, so Ethyl and I played distraction games to get his mind off the crush of humans. I felt as worn out as a rusty and dented cauldron by the time we got through customs. So preoccupied was I with Des that I hadn’t thought about our next move. There were many taxicab drivers vying for our attention, but one stood out among the crowd, an older witch with a hook nose and arms so hairy, I thought he must’ve been part troll. But he had a soft aura and a kind smile.

I flinched, my hand flying to my skull at the sudden onset of a migraine. Ugh, not now. Though I wasn’t surprised after the stress I’d endured these past few days paired with two nights of rough sleep.

“This way,” I said to Ethyl while tugging on Des’s hand, leading them toward the driver’s compact European car. I did my best to ignore the migraine that created a fog in my skull. I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it now, anyway. Perhaps it would go away after a bite to eat and a glass or two of wine, plus one very powerful headache spell.

The cab driver had mahogany eyes, but, thankfully, no trace of crimson. I thought there was a better way to check, but my brain was so fogged, I couldn’t remember. Despite what had happened to my parents, Colin had always said that demonswere so rare that we’d have better odds of being struck by lightning. I still refused to take chances, especially now that a succubus was after us.

The witch introduced himself as Antonio. He had a thick Italian accent, a full head of dark, hair peppered with gray, and a friendly and affectionate manner that immediately put me at ease. After Antonio put our suitcases in the trunk, Ethyl and Des squeezed into the back of his car with Puffy’s carry-on between them, and I sat up front.

Des tuned us out by putting on his headphones and focusing on his screen. I didn’t mind. He needed the decompression time after being around so many people. All things considered, he handled the flight pretty well.

Puffy’s large golden eyes practically glowed within the bag’s shadows. He squinted and let out a purr of satisfaction as Ethyl petted his head.

“Where to,signorina?” Antonio asked me.

Signorina? Young lady in Italian. I liked him already. I shot Ethyl a look.

“Someplace cheap where we can stay near the Divinus de Magicus,” she answered.

She was right to request cheap, for the plane tickets had cost more than I’d anticipated, and I was already almost out of Ric’s money. “Do you know any affordable hotels?” I asked Antonio.

“You mean hostels,” Ethyl corrected. “Hotels are too expensive, but there are a few hostels for single witches.”

“Yeah.” Antonio made a face while turning onto the road. “I know few, but they dumps.”

I cringed at that. “How dumpy?”

He shrugged while casually draping his hand over the wheel. “Usually infested with gnome-roaches and mosquito-sprites.”

Ethyl made a terrified squeak.

“Oh my.” I swallowed back my unease while doing mental calculations of my checking account and credit card balances along with my unpaid bills. “How much do I need to spend to stay in a nice hotel?”

“At least two hundred euros a night,” he said.

Ugh. I should’ve planned this trip better, but I hadn’t thought to call a travel agent while fleeing for our lives. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Tell you what, my wife and I have bed-and-breakfast,” Antonio said. “We had guests leave early.” He released the wheel, making a big show with his hands. “Big room with two beds. You welcome to sleep there.”

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