Peter

My name is Peter Johnson, and I’ve been a prick.

Literally, a porcupine. Yeah, I know. Peter. Johnson. Prick. I get it. I’ve heard it all my life. But not actually sure what I’ve done to deserve this.

Okay, so maybe that was kind of, a little bit, mostly a lie.

Maybe that’s not true either, but I don’t think anything I’ve done has warranted being turned into a porcupine familiar or that Brooklyn accent. Not that I have a problem with Brooklyn, but I’m from a little place in the Midwest that’s not even a fart on the map. Nowhere near Brooklyn.

But back to what I’ve done.

I think I slept with a witch gone wicked, although I’m not sure which one. That might be part of the problem. I like witches a lot. I like the way they smell, the way they taste, the way they sound. I like how their brains work. How they laugh.

I especially like wicked witches. It’s why mortal men like crazy women. The sex is better.

It could’ve been Pandora Pugh, but when we’d agreed to stop seeing each other, she gave me a goodbye blowjob that I would swear to all the gods might’ve changed the Earth’s gravitational pull. She had ample opportunity and access to do so much worse to me than turn me into a little prick.

Or maybe Celine Moonbrow. That witch had a mean streak a mile wide and deeper than the Mariana Trench. I’d never want to be on the wrong side of that woman. But we’d agreed to see other people and it was Celine who broke up with me to see Lucian Battlethorn exclusively. And Celine, well… a prick wasn’t her style. She’d have turned me into a shit golem or something. Or maybe a frog.

I shuddered.

She’d turn me into a frog and throw me into the chimpanzee enclosure at a zoo. If I had nine lives, I’d never forget that video of the frog and the chimp. There were some places on the internet that warlocks and men weren’t meant to travel and that was one of them.

That left Carpathia Cromwell. While she was a witch in the truest sense, I still didn’t think that was something she’d do. She was more likely to use my balls as a punching bag and tell me she was pissed. After my balls were purple and blue and hanging from a chain on the rearview mirror of her enchanted Beamer.

Or curse a Fleshlight.

Borden Drach was still running from a horde of possessed butt plugs that wouldn’t stop until they’d all run to home base, so to speak. But he’d given her chlamydia. I’d never done any such thing.

In fact, I’ve been completely honest with all the witches I’ve dated or even just hooked up with. I’m good in bed, if I do say so myself. Better than most warlocks. We’re notoriously bad in bed, but not me. I listen to what witches want, and I have a particular gift for the erotic arts. I’ve got this killer spell where I can split my tongue…

Anyway, none of that matters if I can’t find out which witch cursed me and why she did it. Because whatever I did, fuck, I’m sorry. Heartily.

Mightily.

Forever.

Luckily, my witch, Millie Mandrake, got promoted. She’s an angel now instead of a witch, and she doesn’t need me. It’s because of her my curse was broken and I got to be me again. Because she loved me.

Even as a prick.

I’m thrilled she got her man. Demon. Whatever.

That kind of thing wasn’t in the cards for me. While I was a prick, I was dating the cutest little fairy named Prudence, but she only wanted me for my pricks. She had a thing for porcupines. Warlocks, not so much. Guess the glow was off the apple.

I’m not too heartbroken about it, I mean, she was beautiful, smart, funny, and the sex was amazing. But she wasn’t my forever. Fairies aren’t good at relationships.

Neither are warlocks, really. So it was nice while it lasted.

Still, I didn’t quite know where to start.

I guessed that while I didn’t think Pandora, Carpathia, or Celine would do something like this, I had to ask them.

Of course, it was possible that they’d all be so offended I’d even asked, that I’d be in for an even more horrible fate, but I couldn’t let that go unanswered.

First on the list? Pandora Pugh.

Thankfully, my magic had returned to full strength so I concentrated on her and suddenly found myself in a cabin of a cruise ship, and she was a little busy.

By a little busy, I mean a lot.

Luckily, she wasn’t the shy sort. She didn’t shriek, or even interrupt the man who was between her thighs.

“I’d say it’s nice to see you, but I’m a kind of in the middle of something,” Pandora said, after she’d waved her hands to cast a spell. The guy who was hard at work would have no idea I was there and wouldn’t hear any of our conversation.

Magic was pretty handy sometimes.

“Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s been a while. Must be urgent since you aren’t the type to materialize without calling first,” Pandora said.

It was a good thing I wasn’t a shy warlock, or I’d have been embarrassed to try having this conversation was she was… in flagrante.

“Yeah, I was a prick.” I shrugged.

“No, you weren’t. You were a nice warlock, maybe the nicest. Who said you were a prick? I’ll curse their face,” she grumbled.

I studied her. She didn’t seem like she was lying. “Ah, no. Not a prick, but a porcupine. Someone cursed me to be a familiar.”

“Well, that was just rude.” She shifted positions and used the guy’s ears like a steering wheel to move him where she wanted him. “You can’t have thought it was me?”

“Of course not, but I needed somewhere to start. I’m asking all my exes if I’ve done something so egregious, or if they have any idea who I pissed off.”

“Sugar, it definitely wasn’t me. But you come back and tell PanPan who did this, and I’ll fuck them up for you.”

“You’re a doll,” I said.

“Let’s…” she gasped. The guy going to lunch was finally having the right meal. “Get together soon.”

“Yes, let’s.” I nodded. “Enjoy your cruise.”

“I will, Peter. I will.”

Concentrating, I focused on Celine. I found her in a park, spread out on a lovely blue blanket reading a spell book. She was blowing bubbles out of nothing and flinging them toward the pond, where swans were catching them and tossing them back and forth with their beaks.

“Peter!” she cried, sitting up.

Images of that poor bastard frog immediately popped into my mind. No, no. I was safe. Celine wouldn’t do that to me.

Right?

Oh Gods, what…

She grabbed me for a fierce hug.

All the old feelings came back and I briefly considered how great it would be to push her down onto that blanket and—

“You are so bad, Peter Johnson. Don’t think I don’t know what’s happening in that brain of yours.”

I laughed. “Well, I won’t apologize because I’m not actually sorry.”

She slapped my arm. “Nor should you be, but Baby Battlethorn won’t like it one bit.”

“A baby?” Looking at her again, I realized she had that glow. New life beamed from all of her pores. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Lucian isn’t as pleased. He broke up with me. Via text. Fucking text.” Storm clouds began to gather, blackening the azure blue sky and blocking out the sun. “Oh, he’s so lucky he’s the father of this child and I want this baby to know him. Otherwise…” She let the threat hang in the air, just like the tension from the gathering storm.

“What a dick.”

“You know what? I should turn him into one. It’s what he thinks with. It’s how he acts. A giant, walking, talking dick.” She nodded. “I have a spell.”

“While we’re on the subject…” I ventured.

The clouds immediately dissipated and she laughed. “No, no. I heard what happened to you, Peter. A porcupine familiar? That was awful. But it wasn’t me. I thought we parted on great terms.”

“I did, too. I can’t figure out what I did and who I did it to that would warrant such a punishment.”

“I can’t either. Unless you knocked up some witch and then ran off with your secretary and broke up with her via text…”

I cringed. “That’s pretty awful. I’d never do that.”

“It is awful, isn’t it?” She cocked her head to the side. “You know, I could always turn him into a frog.”

Oh gods. Panic set in and there was nowhere to run.

“But I’d never do that to you. You’re not that kind of warlock. Oh, why did I ever break up with you?”

“Because you fell in love with Lucian,” I reminded her gently.

“Why was I ever that stupid?” she sighed.

I didn’t have an answer for her. I’d seen love make even the most jaded witches and warlocks do crazy things. Some of them worth it.

Most of them not.

“Enough about me. Since your curse has been broken, you’re obviously looking for some answers. Have you been to see Carpathia, yet?”

“No.”

“She’s been working on a book. A Wicked Witch’s Guide to Hex. She might have some better answers for you.”

“Thanks, Celine.” I kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Lucian.”

“Me too.” She sighed. “I guess I won’t turn him into a frog. But I want to. I really want to.” She looked back up at me. “I’m having a baby shower next week. You should come.”

“I’d love to. Send me an invitation.” I winked at her.

“You should be the stripper,” she offered.

“I don’t think baby showers are supposed to have strippers.”

“It’s my baby shower. I can do whatever I want. After all, I’m not getting the bachelorette party that I thought would happen before the wedding, that I also thought would happen before the baby.”

I could see her logic. “You’ve already seen what I have to offer, but hey, if you want me to jump out of a cake, I’m game.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed.

“Just show up and flirt with me so I can feel like a sexy witch instead of a blimp with feet.”

“Celine, you look amazing.”

“It’s a glamour.”

Suddenly, she was very pregnant. She looked like she was having twins.

“Are you sure there’s only one Battlethorn baby in there?”

“I know, right? Goddess!” she sighed.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Kind of you to say.”

“You know I don’t lie.”

She sighed. “You were just what I needed. I missed you, Peter.” She kissed my cheek. “But you better go and catch Carpathia before she leaves on an interdimensional vacation.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. She’s still at the same address, but she has a roommate. Beatrix Bloodworth. That witch is a klutz on wheels. Be careful.”

“See you next week,” I said, before focusing on Carpathia’s address.

When I got there, I realized things had already ended badly.

There was a smoking hole where the door used to be and there was a little blond witch standing there, dressed in all pink, the ends of her hair on fire.

“Um, you’re on fire,” I said.

“I know.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have that itching and burning sensation for a week.”

I eyed her. “You didn’t sleep with Borden Drach, did you?”

“Ugh. As if.” She pinched one of the ends of her curls and the fire fizzled out, only to reignite again. “See? No luck.”

“What happened to the door? Is Carpathia okay?”

“Carpathia is on an interdimensional cruise, the shit. She left me here to deal with this all alone.”

“What happened?”

“We were trying out a new hex for her book, and then this happened.” She pointed at her head. “And then that.” She pointed at the door. “I’m not sure what’s going to blow next.”

“Okay, why don’t you show me the hex. Maybe I can help.”

She eyed me. “First of all, who are you? Are you a fixer?”

“Not really, but I’m not without my talents. Peter Johnson.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “That can’t really be your name.”

“Not this again.” I rolled my eyes. “You think I haven’t heard that song and dance before?”

She bit her lip. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just so frustrated with this hex. Everything I do goes wrong. I told Carpathia that before we even started this. My fairy godmother was kind of a shit.” She huffed, and blew out the flames on her hair, but again, the effect lasted only moments before they were burning again.

“It’s kind of cool. I mean, at least you’re not bald.”

She grinned. “Oh, you’re right. It could be so much worse. I guess it does make me look like kind of a badass.”

“Totally.”

“Peter Johnson.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “You’re one of Carpathia’s ex-boyfriends, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” My stomach sank like a brick.

“Shit.”

“Shit? Why shit?”

“You’re going to be so pissed at me.”