CHAPTER FIVE
The moon had risen. During the day, the sun bathed the grounds in a magical golden glow, but at night, the moon would cast an incandescent and beautiful haze over our property. Most of the time, it felt ethereal and romantic. Tonight, with everything going on, the haze was eerie, almost foreboding. Gideon didn’t speak as he stared down the troll-looking monstrosity. He didn’t have to. His ebony black wings were expanded, his eyes were blood red and his entire body glowed with a promise of pain and agony. Shitty Ritchie gulped repeatedly and loudly. I didn’t feel sorry for him. As far as I was concerned, he was a huge liability.
Gideon had handed Alana Catherine off to Charlie. I quickly reinforced the ward around my daughter. Charlie one-upped me and doubled its strength. That was more than fine with me. If I lost an arm or a leg in the next few minutes, I could deal with it. It would grow back—bizarre but true. I wouldn’t be thrilled, but if my baby suffered even a scratch from Shitty Ritchie, he was going down. Violently and permanently .
The Grim Reaper slashed his hand through the air. Shitty Ritchie was now residing in a square glass box—ten inches by ten inches. He had room to stand up and sit down, but it was kind of tight for walking around. The enchanted glass shimmered and jiggled as if it were alive. I was tempted to reach out and touch it, though I didn’t dare. I didn’t want to accidentally break Gideon’s magical prison.
“It will hold the bastard,” Gideon ground out, eyeing his work. “Magic is impossible from within.”
“I don’t like this,” Shitty Ritchie screeched, banging on the undulating walls.
“Dude. Cake hole, shut it,” I snapped. “It’s for our safety as well as yours.”
He sat down on his tiny bottom and pouted like the deadly baby that he was. However, the little nard bared his teeth at me in fury. I was tempted to do one of two things—zap him or flip him off. The zap could ricochet and backfire. If magic couldn’t get out of the box, it stood to reason that it couldn’t get in either. Electrocuting myself by accident would suck. Flipping him off could get me set on fire by Candy Vargo. I’d already seen her do it to herself twice. I liked my middle finger with feeling in it, so I wasn’t going to risk it.
“Nifty,” Candy said, examining the see-through prison. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that before.”
Gideon glanced over at her. “That’s because it will only work on something small. The larger the box, the weaker it is.”
“So interesting!” Tim said, clapping his hands. He adored new discoveries. “Shall we retire? It’s getting quite late and dark.”
It took all I had not to scream. My best bet was a sarcastic laugh. I let it rip. “Well…” I said, staring daggers at Shitty Ri tchie. “I’d say that everyone could stay at the house, but Gideon and I don’t seem to have a house at the moment.”
Shitty Ritchie stared at his feet. His little shoulders were slumped, and it appeared that the waterworks and snot were about to start again. The imbecile was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide—violent one minute and nice-ish…ish the next.
“Do you wish for me to fix it?” he questioned, sounding sheepish.
I rolled my eyes. Like I was going to let him use any kind of magic after what I’d already witnessed. He’d already proven to be a nightmare.
“No,” I said flatly. “I don’t wish for you to have anything to do with my house—or lack thereof.”
“What do you wish for?” he asked, giving me the side eye.
The little dude was wacked, but his stress on the word wish was odd. Did he fancy himself a genie? I was shocked that he still had a crappy ‘tude going on considering he was in a see-through prison. “What do you wish for?” I shot back, playing the game. There wasn’t much he could do. If Gideon had said the box would keep the shart stain from using magic, then that was correct.
“I wish that toes had eyes so I wouldn’t keep stubbing mine all the time,” he answered, pointing at his bare feet.
His answer left me speechless. It also made me want to laugh. Little guy had some game. However, he was batshit nuts.
“I hate to be Captain Obvious, but that’s not how anatomy works,” I told him.
Shitty Ritchie giggled.
I was appalled that I found the sound cute.
“I’m not an idiot,” he insisted.
“Could have fooled me,” I replied, rubbing my temples and wondering what to do about sleeping arrangements.
He pressed his face against the glass. It was not a good look. “I know that I am not an idiot, therefore, I do not have to prove to you that I’m not an idiot… because I’m not… an idiot.”
“You are,” I said, wanting to yeet myself for falling into the trap more suited to elementary school kids, but it was impossible not to engage.
“Am not,” he shouted.
“Are.”
“NOT.”
“Umm… Daisy,” Gideon said, squinting at me with a slight wince.
“Right,” I said, quickly. Shitty Ritchie brought the fourth-grade boy mentality out in me. “Sorry.”
“Not to worry,” Candy Vargo said with a chuckle. “I’m just proud that you didn’t call him a motherfucker… cause I sure wanted to.” She blanched then electrocuted herself for the poop word.
I was pretty sure tonight couldn’t get any weirder.
But wait… things could always get weirder.
I searched my brain for solutions. I knew we could go back to my old farmhouse that I’d gifted to my Angel siblings, but that would be a tight squeeze. Splitting up was a bad plan. If the Higher Power decided to show Its bahookey, we needed protection around Alana Catherine. I wasn’t risking her life. Period.
“Over here,” Tim said, instructing the group with a wave about twenty feet from Shitty Ritchie.
We gathered in a circle and whispered.
“I say we shake the turd down then let the little tater tot twat fix the house,” Candy Vargo said.
“Twat is pushin’ it,” Gram warned her. “That ain’t no atomically correct term. ”
“Whoops,” Candy said, punching herself in the head. “My bad. How about Velveeta va-jay-jay?”
“Not much better,” Gram said, shaking her head. “But I’ll give it a pass, girlie.”
I was just happy Candy didn’t light herself on fire again. Our circle was tight, and I didn’t want to get burned. It was the little things I was grateful for right now. The big picture was a hot mess, so it was necessary for my sanity that I found small wins.
Charlie glanced back at the box holding Shitty Ritchie. “I think Candy Vargo has a point.”
“About fixing the house?” I asked. Surely, Charlie didn’t like that plan. I hated it.
“Absolutely not,” he assured me.
“Bout the twat?” Candy inquired.
She was roundly ignored by everyone.
Charlie closed his eyes for a moment. It was obvious that ignoring Candy’s butchering of the English language was taking a toll. “About shaking him down… for information.”
I kind of wanted to shake Charlie down for bringing the destructive Immortal to my home, but getting mad would get me nowhere. Charlie rarely did anything without reason.
Tim leaned forward. His pad was filled with notes on the rippling prison. “If, and I repeat if… Shitty Ritchie wants to stay here to avoid certain death, the chaos goblin must prove himself. I agree with Charlie that we question him. If he plays dirty, we shall move him to a remote island and put out the word of his location.”
Shitty Ritchie shrieked and threw an impressive tantrum. The tiny jerk practically twisted himself into a pretzel. The just regular Immortal clearly had outstanding aural talents. He didn’t like that plan. His piercing blue eyes were filled with panic. However, he was not in charge. He was a menace with a penchant for violence. That description could also apply to Candy Vargo, but she was one of the good guys.
Tim motioned us further away. I wasn’t sure that was going to keep Shitty Ritchie from hearing us, but complied. Tim scribbled furiously on his pad then held it out for us to read.
It said— we are captives of our own identities. Living in prisons of our own creation.
“Wait,” I said, shaking my head. “That sounds familiar. Who said it?”
Heather chuckled. “It’s from the TV show Prison Break .”
I groaned. We were now getting our inspiration from fictitious TV shows? Whatever. I’d learned quickly to go with the flow. Tim, like Charlie, was a reasonable and smart person. “How does this apply?”
“Whoever wants him dead has reasons,” Tim stated.
“I would guess that would be everyone who has ever met him,” I muttered.
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT. I’M FABULOUS,” Shitty Ritchie screamed.
I waved my hand and created a protection bubble around us. There was no way in hell to have any kind of productive conversation with Shitty Ritchie within hearing distance. We now had privacy.
Tim gave me a smile. “Thank you, friend. But my point is that the little Immortal is clearly trapped by who he is. I believe that’s why he is being hunted.
I screwed up my face. “Umm… he’s a dick. That could be why he’s being hunted. That is, if he’s even telling the truth.”
“That nard is tellin’ the truth,” Candy Vargo said. “I can smell me a liar any time.”
“What?” I asked, surprised. “You can literally smell a lie? ”
“You bet your Little Debbie vagina I can. That tiny bunghole is on the run. He ain’t lyin’.” she informed me. “Lies smell like flambéed ass cooked with chocolate chips and sauerkraut.”
I didn’t know what the hell to say to that. Neither did anyone else.
“And more to your point, ain’t nobody in our world ever been offed for bein’ a dick,” she said. “Heck and testicles, I’d be dead a million times over if that was the case.”
“Amen to that,” Gabe said with a grin.
“Zip it, Angel,” Candy Vargo shot back with a chuckle. “Ate ya once, I can do it again.”
All four of my Angel siblings—Gabe, Abby, Rafe and Prue—paled considerably. The rest of us were running a very close second.
“Oh my freaking god,” I said with a gag. First, flambéed ass, chocolate chips and sauerkraut, and now, cannibalism.
Gram was about done. “Candy Vargo, I’m fixin’ to tear you a new rump that you ain’t gonna be able to sit on for a decade. Ain’t nobody gonna be eatin’ nobody. You hear me, girlie?”
“I’m jokin’,” Candy Vargo announced, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Can’t a gal make a joke?”
“The answer to that… is hell to the no,” Heather said right after expelling a huge breath. “Not unless you live in Idaho where it’s illegal.”
Candy nodded. “I see what you mean. My bad.”
“Moving on,” I said quickly. It was getting late. We had a whole lot of people and no place to sleep. Plus, if Candy Vargo kept talking, I’d puke.
Tim took over. “Shitty Ritchie is very obviously in trouble. The only leverage we might have is to offer help in return for help. I say we bargain.”
“We don’t even know what we want from him. I don’t want him near my child. He’s untrustworthy and violent,” I said, feeling a little hysterical. “What the heck are we bargaining for?”
“Don’t matter,” Candy Vargo said. “We start somewhere, meander for a while and then we get there. Happens all the corn nuttin’ time.”
Everyone nodded… except for me.
I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “Is everyone crazy here?” I hissed. “I suppose that might be a rhetorical question, but letting Crappy Pappy lead the way seems like a recipe for a bigger disaster than we’re already in.”
Tim smiled and patted my back. “Ahh, yes, friend. But… we haven’t put the rules in place yet. All good plans of mice and men often go awry… unless there are consequences and parameters. We’ll keep that in mind. As we proceed, we shall discover the process that will work with the least amount of property damage.” Tim looked at the pile of rubble that used to be my house. “I do so wish Shitty Ritchie hadn’t blown up the house. So unnecessary.”
A thought hit me like a brick thrown at close range. “Wishes.”
“What?” Gideon asked.
“Wishes” I repeated, feeling the calmest I’d felt in a while. “We’ll trade wishes. Shitty Ritchie already mentioned wishes twice.”
“Threeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Jimmy George Carrots insisted.
I tilted my head in confusion. What did he know that I didn’t. “Three wishes?”
“Noooooooooah,” he said, sounding a little frantic. “Twoooooooah. Nuuummmbeeeeer twoooooooah.”
I glanced around the circle of my nearest and dearest. No one had any clue that the ghost was trying to tell us. I was tempted to hug him and do a mind dive so we could truly communicate, but I was pressed for time at the moment. Because I was a good southern gal, I nodded at Jimmy George Carrots and smiled.
He seemed satisfied.
Charlie scratched his head. “I think wishes are an excellent way to go at this.” His gaze landed on Candy. “Can you repair the house enough so we have shelter to sleep?”
“Can do,” she replied with a thumbs up. “I will say that crazy titty nard really did a number on it. But I got me some ideas how to improve it!”
That made me gulp. Candy Vargo’s sense of aesthetics was kind of lacking.
“HEY,” Shitty Ritchie whined from right outside the protection ward I’d dropped.
Everyone jumped. Candy Vargo actually screamed.
“Oh my god,” I shouted as my heart raced like a jackhammer in my chest. “How did he get out?”
Gideon growled and immediately stepped in front of Charlie, who still held Alana Catherine. Clapping my hands, I dissolved the ward around us. If Shitty Ritchie was about to go tornado on us again, we needed to get the hell out of here.
“Run!” Heather commanded.
She didn’t have to ask twice. We took off like bats out of hell.
“Where we goin’?” Candy Vargo yelled.
“As far as we can get from the freak,” Heather yelled back.
We didn’t get too far. Shitty Ritchie was running right alongside us.
“WAIT,” the miniature menace shrieked. “I will play nice.”
“Don’t believe him,” Gideon ground out as he scooped Alana Catherine out of Charlie’s hands while we were running at least sixty miles an hour. “Keep moving.”
“Nonononononono!” Alana Catherine babbled as she levitated out of Gideon’s arms. “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Gideon’s wings flapped as he darted into the night sky to grab her. The Grim Reaper was fast. Our daughter was faster.
My child waved her chubby little hands in a circular motion. Our forward trajectory was immediately halted. It was as if we’d hit a wall. Everyone went flying backwards. We landed in a heap on the ground with Alana Catherine floating in the air above us. Her giggle calmed my soul, but the fact that she was hanging by nothing in the air about twenty feet up, almost made me pass out.
“Itty Ritty stay!” she sang, doing flips.
Gram, Mr. Jackson and Jimmy George Carrots darted up to her and created a ghostly hand basket to catch her if she fell. I was sure that wasn’t going to work, but the thought was lovely. Charlie, Gabe, Rafe, Tory and Prue were the first to disentangle themselves from the pile. Gabe’s downy white wings exploded from his back, and he flew to his niece. Gideon was with him.
Alana Catherine again held out her chubby, little hands. “Itty Ritty stay,” she insisted.
I closed my eyes and a weak laugh escaped my lips. Her first word was dada, her second was mama, and her third was Shitty Ritchie.
“Who has their hand up my ass,” Candy Vargo yelled from underneath me in the pile.
“I think it’s my foot,” Tim grunted. “I apologize for where it may have landed. I shall endeavor to remove it posthaste.”
“CAN’T brEATHE,” Shitty Ritchie squeaked from the very bottom of the stockpile of Immortals .
“Everyone, up. Now,” I insisted. “Nard ass has fangs.”
I didn’t have to say another word. The pile dispersed so fast there was a sharp wind.
As soon as we were all on our feet, Alana Catherine floated down and settled herself in my arms. Gideon was next to me so fast I didn’t see him move.
I eyed Shitty Ritchie warily. He eyed me right back. “How did you get out of the box?”
“I have no idea,” he announced, brushing dirt and twigs off his sweatsuit.
“Leave this place,” I snapped. “I’m not playing your games.”
“Itty Ritty stay,” Alana Catherine insisted, pointing at him. “Stay.”
I inhaled deeply and blew it out loudly. I exchanged a cryptic look with Gideon. His eyes still shone blood red, but he was no longer glowing with rage. He gave me a curt nod. Following orders from a baby that could end in a literal shit storm was a first for me. My gut was clenched, and I was second-guessing my entire life. “You have one more chance,” I said to the tiny idiot flatly. “How did you get out of the box?”
Shitty Ritchie rolled his eyes at least twenty times in quick succession. It looked like the turd was having a seizure. However, his raised middle finger let me know he was fine.
“Nothing can hold me,” he finally replied as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet from rolling his eyes so many times.
I glanced around at my friends and family. No one said a word. They just stared at Shitty Ritchie in shock.
“Ground rules,” Tim reminded me.
I nodded. My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out of it. But what I really couldn’t believe was what my baby had just done. It was beyond insane. However, she wanted Itty Ritty to stay. I was choosing to believe her. Anything was possible… I just had to believe. Shitty Ritchie was here. Alana Catherine believed he was here for a reason. I freaking hoped I didn’t regret what I was about to say. “You can stay. We’ll protect you from whoever is hunting you in exchange for information. However, if you harm a single hair on anyone’s head or destroy any more property, all bets are off, and you’ll be on your own. Deal?”
Shitty Ritchie smiled. It was slightly terrifying, but it made my baby giggle. “Deal.”
Wishes. I’d stick to bargaining with wishes. Although, the old proverb came roaring to the forefront of my mind—if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. Point being that if wishes actually came true even the most destitute person would have all they desired. That wasn’t the way the world worked.
It was a risk, but at this point we had nothing… and everything to lose.