Page 43 of Hooked on a Witch
“Since that guy isn’t a certainty swear to me you’ll take me to your witch person when we get back to the other dimension.”
He blew out a long sigh before he nodded. He’d help her. It’d be the last thing he’d do in this world, but he’d figure out her mess.
She motioned for him to follow her as she walked through the house, turning off lights and then out the front door. “How’d you end up as both the son of Poseidon and a hunter of those who use magic to kill people?”
God, she was full of questions. He didn’t answer.
“Why can’t the son of a god do whatever he wants? Why be forced into a dangerous job?”
“Seems not to be the case. Maybe it was a coincidence.”
“A coincidence? When gods are involved?” Skepticism dripped from her words.
“Probably not. I don’t know why I’m the son of Poseidon. I subjected myself to an eternity soul-binding ritual in the Dark Ages in exchange for help from a warlock to save my family who’d been captured by a coven of evil witches.”
“You remember back that far?”
“Yeah.” His family had died despite his vow.
“Can’t you undo your soul-binding ritual? It’s been hundreds of years. They’ve got to understand you’re ready to pass the duty on to someone else.”
He shook his head. “I’ve consulted with everyone—magical experts, occult specialists, religious gurus, and even a few lower level gods.”
“How do you know who’s good or bad and who needs hunting?”
“I get visions. Intuition, I guess you could call it, on what’s going on.”
“You weren’t sure about me. Did you have some sort of vision?”
“No. But you met a black magic relic dealer to buy a dangerous piece.”
“True. Thanks for putting up with my questions. This is all a bit overwhelming.” She scanned the horizon over the ocean. “Sure is beautiful here. Even so, we should go back.”
“Is the return as nauseating as the journey here?”
“Yes.” She took his hand in hers.
“That sucks.” He took a deep breath and readied himself for the painful squeezing.
***
The world narrowed and compressed until there was no room for breathing, movement or thought. Seconds later it ended.
She squeezed Merck’s forearm, not to reassure him, but to confirm to herself he’d traveled too. One of his arms wrapped her waist and gently squeezed.
“Can’t see,” he muttered.
“Me either.” Hot, muggy air caught in Shannon’s nostrils. Humidity was good, but it didn’t mean this was South Carolina. A rainforest in South America would be humid. So would Jamaica.
Her ears strained to catch a familiar birds call, but all she heard was leaves rustling and crickets. They might be cicadas or frogs and not crickets.
Finally, her eyes agreed to work again. She recognized the massive oaks framing the gravel driveway in South Carolina. Merck’s SUV sat a few hundred yards away.
Thank, God.Perhaps she was getting better at the movement between dimensions.
Oh, no. Her stomach plummeted. Her father and six tough-guy druids, including Eli, marched up the driveway toward them. For a few moments she was reduced to a teenager about to get yelled at for making out with the tennis team captain in the driveway.
“Ah, a welcome home party. Fun, fun,” Merck murmured. No fear came from him. Considering the magical weirdoes he must encounter on a day-to-day basis, a couple of druids with miscellaneous skills probably didn’t register on his scale of scary. Even so…
