A voice broke my reverie, deep and growly. “Watch where you’re going.”
“Piss off.” Spoken in an accented voice. A peek over the rail showed a fellow with long, braided locks, a battered hat, and a tailed coat sauntering off, leaving a big guy with a dark crown to resume leaning over the railing. A reminder of the other passengers on board.
As if sensing my stare, the fellow turned around and looked up at me. He started to smile. Not interested, I turned away and moved to the far side of the deck when I felt the tug.
Ping. A pluck that strummed a spot over my heart. I glanced at my chest. Nothing there, yet I could have sworn that something had poked me.
Magic. And it wanted me to go somewhere.
As if I’d obey. My lips pressed tight. Being contrary by nature, I moved in the opposite direction and claimed the lounge chair farthest from the others—not that many were out here yet.
I tucked into my book, sinking into the familiar relaxation of a favorite read while at sea. When things got too noisy, I changed locations and heard a familiar voice shout, “Jerk!”
I recognized that flowered muumuu. “Grandma, please don’t tell me you’re harassing this gentleman.”
Her lips pursed. “I am not harassing Shax,” she huffed. “Merely indicating that I’m unavailable for meals since we are traveling together.”
My brows arched as I punctured her lie. “Since when are you hooking up with me for food? You told me, and I repeat, ‘I love you Janey Waney, but you need to make some friends and loosen up. Because I will be, and I can’t have you cramping my style.’”
“That’s something a whore would say.” Grandma lifted her nose and sniffed.
I found her excuses intriguing. Just who was this fellow with his silvered, dark hair and square jaw? I eyed him and his short horns. “Your name…” I tapped my lip. “Sounds familiar.”
“Nope. Not one bit. Let’s go check out shuffle head.” Grandma grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away before the demon could reply.
As if I’d let the old witch off that easy. “He’s cute. You going to have dinner with him?”
“Most certainly not.”
The vehemence brought out the naughty in me. “Just going to skip right to the drinks and his bed. Efficient. I like it.”
Grandma began to choke hard enough that I worried for her health and pounded her on the back.
Once she’d recovered, she squeaked, “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
“Me either.” I wrinkled my nose. “There’s something in the air, I swear. It’s making me a little crazy.”
“You’ll be fine. Why not go find a drink. Get some food.”
“Nope. I’m not getting drunk. I’m going to hang out in the room. Catch up on some reading.”
“Great plan.” Grandma practically shoved me in her haste to get away. I might have been offended, except I preferred to avoid the craziness she was sure to embroil me in.
I never made it to my room, managing to find a quiet spot on a deck no one seemed to have discovered. I nestled into an abandoned pile of rope, feeling quite at home with the salty air filling my lungs. The story sucked me in, back to a time when swashbuckling was accepted, and the world was a more violent place.
The announcement that dinner with the captain would commence raised my head but only long enough to remind me to dig out a snack from my pocket. A protein bar that could have really used a drink to wash it down.
I finished my book as twilight turned to night. Following the spell I’d left on my room and avoiding the leering goblins who’d already gotten into the grog, I meant to ready myself for bed, but it wasn’t even nine. Early even by my standards.
The tug at my chest came again. Stronger this time.
What kind of magic was this? Exiting my room, I glanced up and down the hall. A pale-skinned couple dressed in sleek black evening wear went past me, apparently not affected by the summons.
Did the ship exude a compulsion keyed to certain guests? Only me?
The final thought brought a frown. I could only think of one spell that might be for me alone.
The one on my locket. The damned love curse.
“Oh, you sly old biddy.” I should have known Grandma had an ulterior motive in dragging me along on this trip. Exactly who had she given the locket to? Someone on board, obviously, making avoiding them nearly impossible unless I abandoned ship. I looked around for the nearest exit to jump ship, and then it hit me.
I was about to run like a coward. Me—a witch almost as powerful as Grandma—afraid of a stupid love spell. Unacceptable. I would confront this and handle it. Because I am witch. I am strong.
Shoulders pulled back and stiff, I marched, following the tug to a level booming with loud music. A cacophony of sound that involved drums, guitars, a piano, cymbals, and a group of singers.
It left me cold. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed music, and especially dancing—by the light of the moon—but the rhythm I preferred to follow had a primal beat. It was the song of the Earth and the moon, the sky and the stars. It didn’t have whining guitars or a screeching voice.
Still, if my locket were somewhere on that dance floor, then I’d have to go in. Because only once I got my hands on it could I stifle the spell.
Was a part of me worried that I’d succumb? A little. Grandma could cast some doozies. However, I’d inherited that strength. Not to mention, I had a stubborn streak. I wouldn’t allow magic to force me to love someone.
Determined, I shoved at the door to enter the ballroom, only it pushed me back, and I landed on my butt.
At the feet of a tall dude.
I looked up. Way up. Into golden eyes staring from a square face with a hint of stubble and long, wavy, dark hair. A good-looking guy built like a lumberjack from what I could see of his thick arms, tapered waist, and huge hands.
One of which extended with a gruff, “Fuck me. Sorry. Didn’t mean to knock you on your ass.”
Flushed cheeks, embarrassed bottom, and a tingle that found him all too attractive led to me wiggling my fingers. “Then why don’t you join me.” Only when he didn’t fall over on his rump, making us even, did I grumble, “Fucking shapeshifter.”
3
Oz: And along came a lion.
Staring down at the woman with her crown of tightly braided hair, I smirked. “Spells don’t work on me, witch.” A strange quirk of nature that their magic broke apart the moment it tried to touch a shapeshifter. At least, on this plane. I’d heard that in other versions of our world, the rules were different. Poor bastards.
The realization that she couldn’t spell me caused her scowl to deepen. A shame. She’d be cute if she tried smiling. The hair pulled back taut showed an interesting face with a pointed chin. Her eyes, a startling bright green, stared at me. I gazed right back. I was also the first to break away because, being a guy, I checked her out.
Upon first glance, I noticed that she wasn’t dressed like the other women on board. Mostly because she wore clothes. Her skirt hung down to her knees, her shirt, buttoned to the neck, was tucked in. The ensemble didn’t manage to completely hide the curves underneath, though. My smile widened in appreciation—