~

 

I might have been tempted to unleash a plague of frogs in Moira’s bedroom, but I didn’t. Between the shrieking and the wailing that would ensue, I didn’t need to single myself out for any more bad ideas from my family, and learning Gran’s madcap matchmaking skills was certainly a bad idea if ever I’d heard one.

Now, to be generous, my Gran had made a few good matches in her time, but lately, things didn’t seem to be going well. In fact, I heard tell that old Mrs. Doony had found herself with an unwanted stalker after a visit with Gran a few months ago.

It was of the four-legged variety, in fact, it was a sheep. We have a lot of those on Skye, and they’re of the ninja variety – that’s not exactly a breed mind you, it’s more on account of how they suddenly appear in the middle of the road when you’re driving, as if by magic, probably tossed out there by the mischievous Faeries, but that’s an entirely different tale to tell.

Anyway, poor Mrs. Doony still has her unwanted sheep problem to this day because she doesn’t want to incur Gran’s wrath by telling her that her spell didn’t work, and there’s no real proof that the sheep in question didn’t take a fancy to her of its own accord. Poor Mrs. Doony as her stalky sheep.

Still, I don’t blame her for not confronting my Gran because the woman can be very off when she chooses, and who wants to get in a witch’s bad books?

Now, because my sister Moira is a backstabbing witch, in more ways than one, not only will I have to spend extra time with the elder witch, but I’ll have to learn how to do the matchmaking spells.

Oh, goody. Well, I wasn’t going to suffer alone.

I sought Gran out in her little greenhouse that was attached to the side of the house. It had a door that opened from the inside corridor under the staircase, and where I’m sure she might have been cultivating more than flowers, herbs, and spices for her spells, but … shhh, don’t ask, don’t tell.

She noted my arrival as soon as my foot touched the threshold. She’s not entirely past it then, bless her.

“Negative energy outside, please. Only bring into Mother Nature’s haven what you wish the life is growing inside these walls to absorb.”

Gran reminded me of that every single time I have ever deemed to enter her lair.

I hesitated in my next step because I’d immediately thought about Moira and creating a giant carnivorous plant that could devour and absorb my backstabbing sister, and I didn’t think it was something that Gran would appreciate.

It seemed like an ideal solution to my problems.

I pushed that thought aside, and all the other bad thoughts that I’d been having about skinny Mary and her permanently loose knicker elastic problem, after seeing Jamie – the once love of my life – now … yuck!

“Moira,” I said, taking that first step inside when my negative aura was cleansed.

“Nice thought, but we don’t feed kin to the plants,” Gran said with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes and a knowing smile on her lips as she shot a look back over her shoulder at me.

Canny old Granny!

“Pity,” I offered back and heard her chuckle.

“You, my dear, we’re always before your time with your thinking.”

“How so?” I reached to touch the pretty petals of a plant and got a look of rebuke from my grandmother.

With a sigh, I withdrew my hand.

“Well, before Nemo, and his – all drains lead to the ocean tagline – your mother caught you trying to flush Moira’s head down the toilet.”

“I remember that.” I couldn’t help but grin. “She kept going on all day about how she wanted to visit the Loch, swim in the water, over and over, and so I thought I’d give her a hand.”

“That’s a story worth sticking too. It has just the right amount of deniability and innocence to be believable.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said with my best innocent tone and wide-eyed look.

“Brownie points for you.” Gran flashed me another smile. “So, Moira. I heard what happened over the dinner table when I left to take care of … business. I’m to have a chaperone…”

“Not a chaperone – exactly.”

“Hmm … What dastardly plot of revenge did you have in mind for your sister?”

“Revenge, Gran? Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t milk it. There are no more points on offer.”

“I thought – what with my business taking up a lot more time due to doing the books, ordering, getting in early for the deliver…”

“Sold, move on to the next phase of your plan.”

“That it might be a good idea if Moira and I both learned the matching spells…”

“Skills…”

“That too. And we did it – together.”

I held onto my evil grin and held my breath as the wheels took time to turn in Gran’s mind, and she settled on an answer.

“No funny stuff?” She shot me a warning glare.

“The pleasure of her company, hour after hour, would be…”

“A punishment for us both.” Gran offered me those perfectly arched eyebrows, and of course, she was right, but it wasn’t the point.

“I like to cut my nose off to spite my face.”

“And win.” Gran got me where others didn’t. “Fine.” Yes! Victory. “But if there is any funny business…”

“There won’t be…”

“But … if there is, then I will put a match on the both of you,” she warned and gave me a hard stare.

“Like set us on fire, that’s a little harsh even by your standards?”

“No!”

“Then that would be incest and…”

“Out!” She pointed one bony finger at the door, and I raced for the exit, but I felt the sharp sting to my tail anyway. “Go savor your victory and tell your sister about your evil scheme.”

I heard the laughter in her voice and felt – elated. Payback was a witch, and so was I.

 

~

 

“I’m sensing a kind of tension in the air.” Ross was back for his morning brew, and while munching on cookies, the crumbs going everywhere, he was grinning from ear to ear as he watched my sister and I giving each other our customary death glares. “The kind you could cut with a knife. Unlike these cookies…”

“What?” I demanded as I eyed the bit of cookie that he’d discarded on the plate.

Nobody, least of all Ross Mac-Nibbles, discarded my cookies.

“Did someone get the recipe for their famous cookies wrong this morning?” Moira’s teasing, but gleeful, tone rang a few bells in my mind.

The … witch!

“What did you do?” I demanded.

You could mess with me in a lot of ways, but you didn’t mess with my cookie recipe.

“Me?” Moira tried to look innocent, but that look didn’t work for her, not when her eyes were flashing victory signs.

I stomped over to Ross’s table and snatched up the cookie as I offered my sister the full spectrum of my wrath via my eyes. I took a bite.

“Help yourself,” Ross said with a small, annoying chuckle, and I tasted the magic on my tongue.

“Did you make it too heavy?”

Moira’s lips stretched up at the corners, and so help me, if Ross and the two tourists hadn’t of been sitting in my shop; I would have put her head first in a bucket of flour and zapped her backside with my magic until the sheep left the Isle over the bridge.

“Seems a little heavy.” I tipped my chin down and gave her my best glare. “A bit like your childbearing hips.”

Ross spat a mouthful of coffee out all over the table as he choked on laughter. Moira’s eyes snapped wide in surprise and disbelief, and the tourists got up and headed for the door.

Perhaps they scented the blood in the air that my darling sister hadn’t shed … yet.

“I think you should take that back,” Moira hissed like she had a serpent sitting in the back of her throat.

How fitting that would have been because I was sure as a child that when nobody was looking she actually sprouted snakes for hair.

“I think you should know your place,” I offered, as I dropped my hand to my side, out of Ross’ sight, and snapped my fingers while putting just a teeny tiny bit of magic behind it.

I heard the step below her feet scrap over the floorboards, saw her eyes widen in surprise, about a second before I whipped it out from under her and she shrieked as she vanished behind the counter.

They say that pride comes before the fall, well, her pride was busy hitting the floor.

Ross pushed up to his feet and rushed over to the counter. I had only seconds to unleash my wrath, but … another shriek as I flicked my wrist told me I’d done it.

Ross pulled up short and stared, somewhat open-mouthed at my sister. Then he tossed his head back on his neck and roared with laughter at her misfortune.

“Ross MacNabbie, you get out of here and get to work this instant,” Moira screeched out as she dragged her flour-covered body upright and offered him the evil eye.

“I’m going…” he chuckled at her misfortune on his way to the door.

“You!” Moira hissed at me the moment that the door was slammed shut behind him.

“Perhaps we should get you a bigger step.” I offered Moira a sweet smile. “It appears you’re a little too heavy for that one.”