Magic and Mayhem: Sh*t My Shifter Says (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Witches Gone Wild Book 2) Read online

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  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Robyn Peterman. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Magic and Mayhem remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Robyn Peterman, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Sh*t My Shifter Says

  A Magic & Mayhem Novella

  Book Two in the Witches Gone Wild Series

  By Michele Bardsley

  Dedication

  To you, dear reader, for everything

  Chapter One

  “Where does a bear shit in the woods?” The craggy voice belonged the old man sitting in Immie and Tabor Cotton’s living room. He was nearly seven feet tall and 400 pounds, and went by the name of Theobold. His gray hair fell like a silver waterfall down his back and he was dressed like the 1960s and the 1970s had gotten drunk and slept together.

  “Grandpa, we have an actual working bathroom,” said Tabor. He sent Immie an apologetic look.

  “Nature, man. Na-ture. I’m a bear. I like to poop in the forest and then wipe my butt with leaves. Like the Goddess intended.”

  This guy’s a hoot. But he has the fashion sense of a goat.

  Tabor, Immie’s bear Shifter husband and one of the few people who could see Dorcas Hoar—ghost friend and former pain-in-the-ass curse, bit back a grin. Dorcas had made it her mission to make Tabor laugh at inappropriate moments—such as this one. The spirit of the Puritan woman had haunted Immie for the last five decades. The curse that had bound the two together was gone, but Dorcas had opted to hang around. She’d behaved better in the last few months than she had in all of her previous centuries.

  The bear rubbed his massive tummy. “Seriously. Where do I go?”

  “Go out the back door and into the Piney Woods,” directed Tabor. “Do your business far, far, far away. The twins will be home from school soon.”

  And we don’t want the sight of your hairy ass to mentally scar them.

  Tabor snorted then coughed. Immie saw him swallow in an attempt to dispel the laughter.

  Tell him to dip his butt in the water. That is na-ture’s bidet.

  This time it was Immie’s turn to choke down her giggles.

  It had been almost a year since Immie moved to Wild, mated with Tabor, adopted precocious twins, and transformed into the Great Ash, protector of the region’s magic. Her creator powers had exponentially expanded and she was still learning how to master the magic tied so closely to the earth. A couple of weeks ago, she’d accidentally created an oak tree in the bedroom, and it had shot through the ceiling. Thank the Goddess Tabor was so handy. He’d done a lot of work on their cabin since she’d gained her new abilities. And he’d been the one to build the girls’ bedroom onto the left side of the house. There was something super sexy about watching Tabor, shirtless, muscles straining, sweat glistening, that just made her day.

  And her night.

  She’d used her magic to furnish the girls’ room, making everything from wood she’d conjured from downed trees in the Ash Forest. The girls had powers of their own, way more than they should at their young age. They took over the decorating, and it changed all the time based on their whims. The twins would be six-years-old in a couple of weeks. Immie and Tabor were happily planning the birthday party.

  “Catch you on the flip side.” Theobold rose from the couch and threw up two fingers in a peace sign. He lumbered through the kitchen and out the back door.

  “I don’t know if I can take a week of that,” said Tabor, rubbing his face. “I can’t believe I forgot it was my turn to host him.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why he just doesn’t apologize to his girlfriend.”

  “Bear Shifters are notoriously stubborn. Or so I’ve heard.” She grinned at her mate and then patted Tabor’s knee. “It’s only seven days, right? We can handle that.”

  Earlier Tabor had explained to her that Theobold Rusch was one of the oldest shifters in North America. Despite his attachment to 1970s fashion, he was a respected elder in the bear Shifter community. Everyone called him grandpa. Apparently, his witch girlfriend had kicked him out of their abode, and for the last few months, Shifters throughout the United States hosted him for one week and then he moved on to the next location.

  “Do you know what happened between him and his girlfriend?” asked Immie.

  Tabor shook his head. “Theo’s not the confiding type. I do know he was head over paws for her.”

  Another lovelorn Shifter. Oh joy. Dorcas floated up to the ceiling, her expression contemplative. What’s on the agenda today? Let me guess. Smooching. Smooching. More smooching. And then building something. Or cooking something. Or watching something. She returned to stand in front of us. If I weren’t already dead, the boredom would kill me.

  “Wait for the girls to get home,” I said. “I’m sure they can make your afterlife more exciting.”

  They treat me like a dress-up doll. You know what they put on me yesterday? A duck costume. Followed by a rabbit costume. And if that wasn’t humiliating enough, they put me in a horse costume—but only the butt part.

  Immie and Tabor laughed. The children could see Dorcas and manipulate her energy. Oh, Dorcas grumbled and groused, yet she never missed their nightly ritual of tucking in the girls and reading bedtime stories. Truth be told, the old bitty adored the twins.

  “Take a vacation, Dorcas,” suggested Tabor. “You can go anywhere you want. Why not Europe?”

  Europe? Hah. You think England was a fun place? We left there because of all the assholes. Why would I want to go back?

  “That was centuries ago,” said Immie. “Europe has changed quite a bit.”

  Dorcas rolled her eyes. You’re not getting rid of me. Live with it.

  “It was worth a shot,” said Tabor, grinning.

  Dorcas flipped him the bird.

  They heard the rattle of the doorknob and then the girls, Eden and Erin, entered the house. They carefully closed the door behind them and put their backpacks down. Then they skipped to Immie and Tabor, going immediately for after-school hugs.

  After-school hugs turned into tickle fests and after a few minutes of non-stop laughter, the girls collapsed onto the couch between Immie and Tabor, grinning.

  Dorcas floated nearby, her usual scowl verging on an actual smile. Dorcas complained about the girls—the ghost complained about everything—but the truth was that she lo-oved the twins.

  “Can we keep them?” asked Eden.

  “Please?” added Erin.

  “Keep what?” Immie asked.

  “The bunnies.”

  “Crikey!” Immie’s lizard familiar, Liz, scurried into the living room and plopped her scaly ass onto Immie’s lap. “We’re under attack!”

  Chapter Two

  “There must be at least a thousand,” whispered Immie. She and Tabor stared out the window.

  “Where the hell did they come from?” Tabor asked. Immie was sure that Tabor’s horrified expression mirrored her own.

  The sea of white ratty-furred rabbits started at the front porch and continued into the tree line. These bunnies were not cute or fluffy or, you know, alive. Zombie rabbits had invaded their yard. Some hopped across the porch, twitching their noses, their eyes glowing red.

  Well, Great Ash-hole, go out there and deal with this
mess. Dorcas wiggled her fingers as though casting a spell. You’re the earth whisperer, right?

  “My magic doesn’t work on dead things,” said Immie. The vast sea of zombie bunnies was an endless landscape of horror. “How can there be so many of them?”

  Well, you see, the daddy bunny puts his penis into the mommy bunny, then they go at it like bunnies, and then the mommy gives birth to a million bunnies, and…hmm, I got nothing about why these are animated corpses.

  Immie cast the crone an irritated look. “Girls, take Auntie Dorcas into the bedroom.” She gave Dorcas an evil grin. “Play dress up with her.”

  No! Not that, protested Dorcas.

  The girls giggled and clapped their hands. “C’mon, Dorcas,” they said. “We made new outfits for you.”

  Dorcas cast Immie a dirty look before following the twins into their bedroom.

  “I’m going with them. Safer with the girls than dead rabbits. I think.” Liz offered a tiny salute and waddled after them.

  “How the hell do we get rid of this…this infestation?” asked Tabor.

  “Zombie bunnies are not in my wheelhouse, honey.” Far from it. Death magic was the antithesis of creator magic. In other words, this Zombunny Fest was way above her pay grade. “We need back-up.”

  Two seconds after Immie sent up the Bat Signal in the form of a strongly worded text and lots of pictures for clarification, Zelda, AKA the Shifter Wanker, the healer witch to end all healer witches poofed into their living room. She was a stylist’s wet dream—dressed, as always, in expensive couture, all the way down to the six-inch stilettos. Immie’s feet hurt looking at those very high heels.

  Zelda put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. “Well? Why in the hell are you sending me pictures of rotting hares? And let me just say, the one with his eyeball hanging out and missing part of his jaw, so his tiny black tongue hung around his neck like a tie was just…ewwww!” She grimaced. “Nice zoom though. What kind of camera do you have on that phone?”

  “I didn’t have far to zoom. Not when the subjects are in my front yard,” said Immie, her voice rising with her blood pressure.

  Zelda marched to the window, pulled back the curtain, took one look, and screamed. “What. The. Fuck!” She whirled around and stabbed Immie with a glare. “I thought you were shitting me? Yanking my chain. But, unholy Peter Cottontail, it’s The Walking Dead: Rabbit Edition out there.” Zelda waved her hands around. “I can’t heal a jillion dead bunnies. We need back-up.”

  Within seconds of Zelda contacting the Baba Yaga, the boss witch appeared in the living room. She wore tight jeans and a black T-shirt proclaiming her Witch in Charge. The T-shirt had been knotted in the front. Her red hair was bound into a one-sided ponytail and she sported a neon pink and green twister bead necklace. She also wore a pair of a wedge cork heels. Baba Yaga was in love with the 1980s, Madonna-style.

  “Well?” demanded Baba Yaga. “Where’s the great emergency?”

  “Take a look,” said Zelda, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder.

  Baba Yaga strolled to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked. “Holy crap. It’s Dawn of the Dead Rabbits out there.” She turned to Immie and Tabor. “How did you manage to summon a zombie bunny army?”

  “We didn’t,” said Immie. “They just showed up.”

  Baba Yaga tapped her chin. “I’ve dealt with the occasional zombie, but in all my centuries I’ve never seen a jillion hopping dead hares. We need back-up.” The witch poofed out of the room and seconds later she reappeared with a pale blonde woman wearing a Kiss the Vampire apron over a blue T-shirt and jeans. She was barefoot, holding barbecue tongs, and scowling at everyone.

  “What the fuck is going on?” she demanded. “I just put on the burgers, and I hate well done.”

  “Good to see you, too,” said Baba Yaga. “Everyone this is Patsy. Patsy, this is everyone.”

  Patsy pointed the tongs at the head witch and clicked them together. “Maybe give the vampire queen more warning next time.”

  Baba Yaga appeared totally unrepentant. “Everyone knows you’re the zombie whisperer. So make with the whispering.”

  Patsy rolled her eyes. “None of these people are dead. Well, except for her.” She waved the tongs toward the twins’ bedroom. Dorcas’ head poked out from the wall. The minute the vampire made her, the Puritan spirit disappeared.

  “You can see Dorcas?” asked Immie.

  “Dorcas? Wow. Her mama didn’t like her too much.” Patsy turned her gaze on Immie. “I can see the dead. And most of them are annoying. Okay. Where are the zombies?”

  Everyone pointed at the window. Patsy strolled across the room, moved back the curtain, and stilled.

  “Rabbits? Huh. You don’t see that every day.” She tilted her head. “Why are they carting away a bear?”

  Immie, Tabor, Liz, Zelda, and Baba Yaga stampeded to the window and jostled Patsy aside. Immie watched as a huge black bear with gray streaks in its fur rode a wave of rabbits on his back like a singer doing a stage dive. He noticed his audience and grinned, throwing up two fingers in a peace sign.

  “Shit,” said Tabor. “They’re kidnapping Grandpa.”

  Chapter Three

  Grandpa got kidnapped by zombie rabbits, sang Dorcas, coming home to our house to poop and pee. You may say there’s no such thing as zombie bunnies, but as for me, Grandpa, and the witches we beliiiiiiiieve.

  Dorcas insisted on bopping around above the zombunny horde, singing annoying songs as almost everyone else tried to catch one of the little white nightmares.

  Immie glared at Dorcas. “Do you mind?” She slapped a box down over her dead prey and peeked under the edge to confirm the capture. Total fail.

  No bunny loves me, said Dorcas, cackling. At least the Puritan witch was having a good time. Another glare from Immie forced Dorcas away. The ghost floated off to annoy Baba Yaga, who held a magicked net and a disconcerted expression. She attempted to scoop up a rabbit, but it hopped out of the way and took off. “Damn it!”

  “These little fuckers are fast,” complained Zelda. “Don’t they know they’re dead? Where’s all the shambling, and the shuffling, and falling off of rotted parts to slow them down?” She held an oversized ladle and tried a soup maneuver to capture a bunny near the stairs. It growled at her, flashing fangs. She hissed and raised a stiletto heel to jab at its tiny dead heart.

  “I can’t believe they’re magic repellent. I mean, seriously?” She stomped down and her heel hit dirt. “This is bullshit.”

  Rabbit shit, Dorcas corrected. Or what the more sophisticated circles call dingle berries. I wonder…does pellet poo come out of leather?

  Zelda examined her shoes and let out a scream. “My Louboutins have been desecrated!”

  “Got one!” yelled a triumphant Patsy. She held up her barbecue tongs and revealed a wiggly, fur-challenged, pissed-off zombie rabbit.

  “Oh, thank the goddess,” said Zelda. She stepped onto the porch and waved at her feet. The soiled heels disappeared and a new pair of stilettos voila-ed in their place. “Prada saves the day again.” She held up the ladle and it vanished. “Well, I’ve had enough fun.”

  “Don’t you dare poof,” demanded Baba Yaga. “You’re a healer. We might need you once we find the poo bear.”

  Dorcas laughed and went in for a high-five. To Immie’s shock, Baba Yaga completed the gesture. Wow.

  “All right. Let’s go interrogate Dead Bunny Hopping,” said Patsy. She turned toward the house.

  Tabor peeked out the front door. “Not in here,” he said. “I don’t want that thing around the girls.”

  “Or you,” teased Immie.

  “I’m not afraid of rabbits, dead or otherwise,” he rumbled. “I’m protecting the home front.”

  “From bunnies,” said Zelda. Her eyebrow arched. “Aren’t you a cutie wutie big, ol’ bear? Yes, you are.” She made smoochy-woochy noises.

  “Shut up.” Tabor closed the door.

  “Let’s go interrogate it
at my house,” said Patsy. “I have a paranormal prison, a mad scientist, and my own zombies there.”

  “Where’s your house?” asked Immie.

  “In Oklahoma. I live in a paranormal community. No one will think twice about me walking down the street with a zombie bunny.”

  “Look, I have my own paranormal community of needy critters to deal with,” said Zelda. “Call me if you need the Shifter Wanker.” She disappeared before anyone could protest.

  “Well, that leaves us, gang.” Baba Yaga waved her hand and in the blink of an eye, Immie found herself, the Head Witch, and Patsy in a room that could only belong to a mad scientist. Bubbling tubes, whirring machines, and monitors displaying charts and codes and whatnot crowded most of the surfaces.

  A short, bald man in a lab coat strode into the chaos, looking at a chart in his hands.

  “Stan!”

  He stopped abruptly and looked up, fangs flashing. As soon as he saw Patsy, he replaced startled vampire with happy dude. “Hi there.” His gaze arrowed toward the wiggling dead bunny between the barbecue tongs. “Is that a zombie rabbit?”

  “Yes. Where do I put this thing?”

  Stan scurried into another part of the large room and returned with a silver cage. Immie immediately sensed its strong magic. He lifted the lid, and Patsy plopped the bunny inside. Stan quickly locked the cage.

  He leaned down and peered inside. “What do you want me to do with it?”

  “Can you make it stop drooling?” asked Patsy. “I’ve got dead hare spit on my chef’s apron.”

  “OxyClean will get that out,” advised Immie. Everyone looked at her. “What? I’ve learned a lot about cleaning stains since adopting the twins.”

  “I have four young kids,” said Patsy. “And I just burn their clothes at the end of the day. It’s easier.”

  “Queen Patsy? The rabbit?” Stan blinked at them.

  “Well, it and about a million other undead furballs kidnapped a bear shifter. So I guess I need to ask it who zombified a bunch of rabbits.”