Witch Risen: A Paranormal Adventure (Bad Tom Series Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Jill Nojack
had far too much influence over me, constraining me with her courtesy and civility and niceness. This girl will stay beat down where she belongs. All those years I trained her to subjugate her own will to mine appears to have worked out just fine.
I think I'll take my new body out for a walk. With the old one's creaky knees, it's been years since I could appreciate a chill night under the moon. It was late April when my spirit was gathered to my Ab Khr to wait for Cassie to release me. I could ring time and weather and find the date easily, but I can also tell from the sky.
The streetlights obscure a full view of the stars, but what I see tells me I haven't waited in that attic long. It's summer. And the cafe still has its "New Menu" sign out with the same year listed as when I left. I haven't been gone long at all.
I enjoy the breeze on my newly smooth skin. It's good to be alive in a new world ripe for the taking. Or at least the same old world with a brand new me.
Tom won't have gone far. He never does. As I walk past the silent shops in downtown Giles, I hear rustling in the alleys from time to time and wait for him to emerge from the shadows repentant. He doesn't. But he will.
It must have been a surprise for him, expecting boring Cassie and encountering me instead. I enjoyed his look of shock and recognition.
He wasn't a cat when I returned, so Cassie must have discovered the magic words. I have to assume they had some fun after she freed him. It's his nature, my tomcat Tom. I did, after all, find myself dressed in one of the girl's nightgowns when I surfaced, with Tom in only pajama bottoms where he stood on the stairs. I would have loved to have seen the look on her insipid face when Tom first came bursting out of my kitten. It had to have been quite something.
Oh well, it's so limiting when you're dead. You miss things. And Tom will come back to me in no time. He leaves, but he always returns. In the end, he misses me.
I look forward to the improved fun factor with my new, young, juicy body. It's already humming with anticipation.
Oh my, the things we'll do.
***
My morning stretch is luxurious and completely unaccompanied by a crick in the neck, sciatica, and that grabbing feeling in my bowel. I adore this body I've stolen. I run my hands over its smooth, firm hips and abdomen. Yes, very nice. And that tingle…
Wait, that's the tingle of Cat's spell, the thread that tells me Tom is near. I certainly hope he's come home.
I slip on a nightie and focus on the direction of the magic spark. To the front of the house I go, but Tom isn't in the upstairs parlor in his basket. I realize the tingle is coming from outside. I look out to see if I can locate him, and there in the alley across the street, Cat lies curled up in the shadows, sleeping.
I'll wake him up soon enough. Maybe he'd enjoy a visit from that pigeon he's obsessed with. I look down. Yes, there it is, sitting on the bench where it spends the day waiting for the crumbs people drop after visiting the bakery.
Pigeons have such tiny brains. So easy to control, even from this distance. And with the sharp eyes I have now, I'll be able to see the entire thing in detail. How lovely. Cat really should have come home sooner. If he had, I wouldn't be forced to take drastic measures to get his attention.
I send silvery strands of magic toward the strutting bird with my wishes embedded in them. They slip under its feathers and do their work.
The pigeon flies true and drops to the ground next to Cat without waking him. Then it reaches out and gets its beak into the papery thin flesh of kitten-Tom's ear. These eyes are so good I swear I can even see a bright bead of blood left in the nick when the pigeon pulls away. It flies back to the bench with a fuzzy triangle of skin still held in its beak before it gobbles it down upon alighting.
Cat startled awake when it happened, watched the pigeon's flight, then turned and ran out the back of the alley—the wrong
I think I'll take my new body out for a walk. With the old one's creaky knees, it's been years since I could appreciate a chill night under the moon. It was late April when my spirit was gathered to my Ab Khr to wait for Cassie to release me. I could ring time and weather and find the date easily, but I can also tell from the sky.
The streetlights obscure a full view of the stars, but what I see tells me I haven't waited in that attic long. It's summer. And the cafe still has its "New Menu" sign out with the same year listed as when I left. I haven't been gone long at all.
I enjoy the breeze on my newly smooth skin. It's good to be alive in a new world ripe for the taking. Or at least the same old world with a brand new me.
Tom won't have gone far. He never does. As I walk past the silent shops in downtown Giles, I hear rustling in the alleys from time to time and wait for him to emerge from the shadows repentant. He doesn't. But he will.
It must have been a surprise for him, expecting boring Cassie and encountering me instead. I enjoyed his look of shock and recognition.
He wasn't a cat when I returned, so Cassie must have discovered the magic words. I have to assume they had some fun after she freed him. It's his nature, my tomcat Tom. I did, after all, find myself dressed in one of the girl's nightgowns when I surfaced, with Tom in only pajama bottoms where he stood on the stairs. I would have loved to have seen the look on her insipid face when Tom first came bursting out of my kitten. It had to have been quite something.
Oh well, it's so limiting when you're dead. You miss things. And Tom will come back to me in no time. He leaves, but he always returns. In the end, he misses me.
I look forward to the improved fun factor with my new, young, juicy body. It's already humming with anticipation.
Oh my, the things we'll do.
***
My morning stretch is luxurious and completely unaccompanied by a crick in the neck, sciatica, and that grabbing feeling in my bowel. I adore this body I've stolen. I run my hands over its smooth, firm hips and abdomen. Yes, very nice. And that tingle…
Wait, that's the tingle of Cat's spell, the thread that tells me Tom is near. I certainly hope he's come home.
I slip on a nightie and focus on the direction of the magic spark. To the front of the house I go, but Tom isn't in the upstairs parlor in his basket. I realize the tingle is coming from outside. I look out to see if I can locate him, and there in the alley across the street, Cat lies curled up in the shadows, sleeping.
I'll wake him up soon enough. Maybe he'd enjoy a visit from that pigeon he's obsessed with. I look down. Yes, there it is, sitting on the bench where it spends the day waiting for the crumbs people drop after visiting the bakery.
Pigeons have such tiny brains. So easy to control, even from this distance. And with the sharp eyes I have now, I'll be able to see the entire thing in detail. How lovely. Cat really should have come home sooner. If he had, I wouldn't be forced to take drastic measures to get his attention.
I send silvery strands of magic toward the strutting bird with my wishes embedded in them. They slip under its feathers and do their work.
The pigeon flies true and drops to the ground next to Cat without waking him. Then it reaches out and gets its beak into the papery thin flesh of kitten-Tom's ear. These eyes are so good I swear I can even see a bright bead of blood left in the nick when the pigeon pulls away. It flies back to the bench with a fuzzy triangle of skin still held in its beak before it gobbles it down upon alighting.
Cat startled awake when it happened, watched the pigeon's flight, then turned and ran out the back of the alley—the wrong
Readers choose
Bruce Hale
Elizabeth Hayley
R. W. Peake
Jacqueline Wilson
Lee Evans
Don DeLillo
Debra Webb
Andrew Vachss
Lois Greiman