What A Witch Claims

Prologue

Assjacket, West Virginia

Ferdinand Bartholomew Fucking, known to all the locals as Fucking Ferdie, strolled down the main drag of Assjacket. His destination? The rabbit Shifter Roger's office for another session with Merlin's Foreskin, a relic that could reveal someone's future mate.

Since the arrival of the relic, formerly unmatched locals had found mates after a consultation or two. Ferdie had finally felt a glimmer of hope of finding someone with whom he could spend his life. But for the last fifty-nine visits to Roger's office, he'd struck out, just as he had for the previous four hundred years of searching the world for his other half. He'd begun to believe that he was doomed to be alone.

The whole process had gotten downright depressing.

He arrived at Roger's office and stopped. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and muttered, "One more time. Then no more. I'll collect cats and be the old cat troll who putters around in his gardens."

"Talking to yourself again, Ferdie?" Roger stood in the doorway, his nose twitching as rabbit noses often did. "Maybe I need to add you as a patient?"

Roger had two parts to his practice—one was for sexual therapy. Ferdie bristled. "I don't have sexual performance issues—"

Well, not that he knew of, or at least he hadn't had any problem the last time he'd had sex. That had been a hundred fifty years ago at a Summer Solstice party in the wilds of Scotland. He and the wolf Shifter he'd frolicked with had been inebriated on cask strength, 20-year-old Scotch. The highlands had echoed with the she-wolf's orgasmic howls.

"I'm here to consult Merlin's Foreskin, as you well know."

Roger waved him inside. "Since you know the drill, just go in and get comfortable. I'll bring in the relic."

Ferdie entered the room Roger had prepared for relic consultations. He made himself comfortable on the upholstered lounge.

"Here we go." Roger entered and placed the beautiful stone reliquary in which the relic was encased on the table next to where Ferdie lay. "I'll just leave you to commune. Please keep in mind, my friend, the relic responds to your magic and the depth of your need at the time you are seeking it."

"This is not my first go-round, ya know?" Thinking of how many times he'd gone home to his lonely house with high hopes only to be disappointed, Ferdie sighed. "Maybe my magic isn't strong enough to trigger the relic's magic. What do you think?"

"I think maybe you've been trying too hard."

Roger's eyes and voice held loads of sympathy. At least, it wasn't pity. He couldn't have handled that from his friend.

Patting Ferdie's shoulder, Roger said, "Relax. Take your time. Seek to use your mother's magic, not the more dominant troll magic inherited from your father."

Ferdie sat up, his eyes narrowed. "What do you know of my mother and her magic?" His mother's magic was creator magic. She'd been a river demi-goddess in the Celtic pantheon. She'd also been worshiped as a fertility goddess due to the spring floods enriching the soil and thus providing an abundance of crops. While Ferdie couldn't control bodies of water, he did have a more than healthy dose of creator earth magic.

"Confidential information," Roger replied. "And no one in Assjacket will learn of it from me. That is your secret to share. Knowing now what your mother was, I do believe that is the key you and I have been missing in these consultations. Let me know when you are finished, so I can lock the relic away." Roger dimmed the lights and shut the door quietly behind him.

Lying back down, Ferdie tapped into his mother's magic, then looked at the relic. It sparked inside its protective stone casing and cast a purple glow over the room.

Startled, he sat up. "Well, that's a first." He'd never seen the relic do anything before. This had to be a good sign.

He opened himself up even further to the gift of his mother's magic, one he normally used to grow things and when he created recipes and cooked.

The relic's glow grew stronger, and a sepulchral voice said, "Finally you got the idea. Now sleep. Dream."

A clap of what sounded like thunder echoed off the walls of the small room even as the relic's purple glow began to flash like lightning. As the preternatural storm increased in intensity and soundless winds buffeted his sturdy body, Ferdie worried that things were getting out of hand, he began to stand.

"Stay," the voice intoned. "Sleep. Dream." A strong gust shoved Ferdie onto his back and he sank into a deep, dark void. When he opened his eyes, the room was dim and the relic no longer sparked. He had the impression that time had passed, but he recalled nothing. Had he slept? He must have since he felt refreshed.

But he hadn't dreamed, or if he had, he sure as heck didn't recall anything.

A knock on the door sounded and then Roger entered. "Are you okay, Ferdie? I looked in on you a couple of times and you were sound asleep. I even checked to make sure you were still breathing. What happened? Did you dream anything?"

"No, and I feel gypped." For a moment, he'd hoped he'd dream of his mate. Someone to laugh and share his gardens and love of cooking with. Ferdie swung his legs to the side of the chaise. "The relic spoke to me, put on a noise and light show, and then nothing . I've been out for how long?"

"Three hours in all." Roger looked concerned. "How do you feel?"

Ferdie thought for a second. "Good. Actually, better than good. Even though I can't recall any dreams, it has to be a good sign that the relic sparked and talked to me, right? Could that be an indication that my luck has changed?"

"The relic sparked and spoke to you?" Roger's nose twitched and he hopped in place with what Ferdie interpreted as excitement.

"Yes. The room glowed with a purple light. The voice was deep and penetrating. I felt it in my bones." He looked at Roger. "Has it ever done anything like that before?"

"Once." Roger picked up the relic. "I had better lock this up. Are you feeling up to going to the diner as usual?"

"Yes." Ferdie followed Roger to the wall safe. "Well?"

Roger shut the door on the safe and made sure the handle locked. "Well, what?"

"Herne's hairy balls. Don't be dense, man." Ferdie gesticulated wildly. "When was the last time the relic lit up like a disco ball and talked to the user?"

"When Bran Maddocson asked about his mate," Roger said as he led the way to the office's front door.

Ferdie wrinkled his brow. "I thought it merely laughed at Bran."

"It did, and it flashed as it did for you." Roger locked the door. "Don't overthink this. We're still learning about the relic. Now, let's get to the diner before the evening's special is all gone. Jeeves is doing one of his chef du jour gigs and is trying out a new recipe he got off the Anonymous Chef's YouTube channel."

He began to follow on Roger's heels when a resonant laugh stopped him in his tracks. It had come from inside Roger's office. He walked back and looked in one of the windows. A purple glow emanated from the locked safe. He blinked and it was gone.

Ferdie couldn't help but think about what the relic's unusual activity might mean. After all, the relic had laughed at Bran, and Ferdie recalled all the crap with which the warlock had to deal before Bran and his mate Raisa had finally found happiness. He couldn't help but be anxious about what his experience with the relic might have in store for him and whether it would be good or bad.

"Hey, Ferdie," Roger called from two buildings farther up the street. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah." He hurried to catch up with his friend, the echo of the relic's laughter sounding in his head.