Page 68 of Hexed, Vexed, & Undersexed

“Keep it up, Princess. I'm about to bend you over my knee and spank your ass,” Bellamy growls.

I snort at the threat while my ovaries bend over, ready for it.

“Youkeep it up, and I'm going to witch slap you. And you better hope that the network isn't listening to this conversation.”

Bellamy arches a brow.

“We're not at the network anymore.

“Where are we?” I wonder.

“You're here to talk with me,” the old woman announces.

“And who are you?” I demand.

“I'm here to reunite my family through the two of you,” she says instead.

I wrinkle my nose.

“That sounds incestuous as fuck, lady,” I joke since Porters and Putnams are distantly related.

Bellamy claps a hand over my mouth.

“Ignore her, Mother Shipton, she's a product of inbreeding.”

“Did you just call me a moron?!” I accuse.

Bellamy shrugs a belligerent shoulder.

“If the broom fits. . .”

“It's going to fit up your ass,” I grumble under my breath.

“Children, please,” the crone says. “This is what I was talking about. It’s time to put aside your petty indifferences and embrace your true heritage.”

I blink.

Isn’t that what I had been trying to do?

“Not even close,” Mother Shipton disagrees—insidemy head.

“Ahhhh!” I yell in panic, making the wizened hag cackle.

“What is our true heritage?” Bellamy wonders.

“Come and see,” Mother Shipton beckons with a hand.

Hesitantly, I step forward and take it, as does Bellamy.

The foggy countryside fades away and is replaced with a scene that buckles my knees.

Armageddon.

“W-w-where are we?” I stutter, shocked at the utter destruction before me.

Everything is blackened, scorched by Goddess knows what. An eerie wind howls through the vacant openings of buildings where doors and windows have been blown out. It’s like something out of a movie—a fantasy film that you hope isn’t based in reality.

“This is Boston,” Mother Shipton answers.