placed his foot on a dishtowel on her lime velvet couch. She ignored his complaints as she poked around the hole oozing blood, which she collected into a porcelain cup. “For later,” she advised Alastair, who nodded sagely. “Nothing like fresh blood.”
“Fresh blood. Alastair, get me out of here!” Wes wailed.
Luna pounced on his chest, walking down to his abused foot to look at the wound. She meowed loudly.
Junie looked up, her bulbous eyes grossly enlarged by the thick glasses she wore.
“I know. It does look Italian,” she commented back.
“Italian, you say?” Alastair bent over to observe.
“Mmm, see the teeth marks? These particular panthers come from the hills over Catanzaro.”
“Catanzaro…I thought they only bred cougars,” Alastair commented.
“Only the old ladies hunting young men in the bars.” Junie laughed. “No, no, this is definitely a panther bite. There’s a coven that roams the area. Nasty women, famous for their hot tempers.”
Wes drifted, despite the conversation. Junie patted his rear, advising him that this was going to sting a bit.
Hot needles stung his foot from toe to ankle as a boiling towel was placed on his abused limb. Wes reared off the couch, only to have strong hands hold him back. A rainbow of colors danced before his closed eyes before they rolled back in his head.
“He’s out,” Alastair told Junie.
“I can tell from his aura,” she replied as she cleaned his wounds. “Better this way.”
“He didn’t want to come. I told him some faradiddle about panther hormones.” Alastair held up a lamp for her to see better.
“Good. It’s more believable than the truth.” Junie sliced open his foot, squeezing out the poison. “A few more hours, and he’d be dead meat.” She stood back, cracking her back, satisfied with her handiwork. Together they removed his shirt, then Junie dabbed the scratches on his shoulders. “Hmmm…nasty piece of work here.” She threw a fuzzy knitted blanket over him.
“How long till he wakes?”
Junie walked back into her tiny kitchen to return holding a lacy curtain of caul fat from a midsize animal. It was draped over her hands and smelled like rotten meat. “Hold his foot elevated.”
“Sheep?” Alastair asked.
“Goat.” Junie shrugged. “I read his leaves, and I got goats.”
“Who’d have thunk it?” Alastair laughed.
Baby Fat wrapped his foot with the thoughtful competency of a practiced nurse. “Don’t laugh. I don’t make these things up, I only treat.” She grabbed her willow branch from a side table and, bowing her head, hummed loudly. Alastair hastily moved to the other side of the room.
“I don’t want it touching me,” he told her.
“This ain’t my first rodeo.” She cleared her throat loudly. “Maaaaake him beeeetter, maaake it heeeeeal.” She sounded like a billy goat, and Alastair bit back a smile.
“Meeeelt the faaaaat, into his heeeel. Faaaaaster, faaaaaaster and on this note, maaaaake the paaaanther lose to a gooooat.”
An eerie blue light surrounded Wes. The animal fat sizzled on his foot. The room smelled like a Sunday barbecue. It turned liquid as it dissolved into his skin.
“Well,” Baby Fat said as she put down her wand. “That should do it. Coffee?”
“I need to see if anything made the news.”
Baby Fat nodded, indicating Alastair should follow her. “I’ve got a small TV in the kitchen.”
“So, how long will he sleep?”
“Half hour, maybe an hour, and he’ll be kicking his heels in no time.”
Both Alastair’s and Junie’s chuckles floated through the apartment to merge with Wes’s disturbing dreams. He roused from the noise, then let himself be sucked into the strange, mountainous world he had entered. He was high on a hill, the wind blowing harshly, stinging his eyes. He climbed higher, and higher, but he couldn’t figure out why.
Junie pointed the remote, and the television lit up with the evening news. Alastair’s face turned grim when
“Fresh blood. Alastair, get me out of here!” Wes wailed.
Luna pounced on his chest, walking down to his abused foot to look at the wound. She meowed loudly.
Junie looked up, her bulbous eyes grossly enlarged by the thick glasses she wore.
“I know. It does look Italian,” she commented back.
“Italian, you say?” Alastair bent over to observe.
“Mmm, see the teeth marks? These particular panthers come from the hills over Catanzaro.”
“Catanzaro…I thought they only bred cougars,” Alastair commented.
“Only the old ladies hunting young men in the bars.” Junie laughed. “No, no, this is definitely a panther bite. There’s a coven that roams the area. Nasty women, famous for their hot tempers.”
Wes drifted, despite the conversation. Junie patted his rear, advising him that this was going to sting a bit.
Hot needles stung his foot from toe to ankle as a boiling towel was placed on his abused limb. Wes reared off the couch, only to have strong hands hold him back. A rainbow of colors danced before his closed eyes before they rolled back in his head.
“He’s out,” Alastair told Junie.
“I can tell from his aura,” she replied as she cleaned his wounds. “Better this way.”
“He didn’t want to come. I told him some faradiddle about panther hormones.” Alastair held up a lamp for her to see better.
“Good. It’s more believable than the truth.” Junie sliced open his foot, squeezing out the poison. “A few more hours, and he’d be dead meat.” She stood back, cracking her back, satisfied with her handiwork. Together they removed his shirt, then Junie dabbed the scratches on his shoulders. “Hmmm…nasty piece of work here.” She threw a fuzzy knitted blanket over him.
“How long till he wakes?”
Junie walked back into her tiny kitchen to return holding a lacy curtain of caul fat from a midsize animal. It was draped over her hands and smelled like rotten meat. “Hold his foot elevated.”
“Sheep?” Alastair asked.
“Goat.” Junie shrugged. “I read his leaves, and I got goats.”
“Who’d have thunk it?” Alastair laughed.
Baby Fat wrapped his foot with the thoughtful competency of a practiced nurse. “Don’t laugh. I don’t make these things up, I only treat.” She grabbed her willow branch from a side table and, bowing her head, hummed loudly. Alastair hastily moved to the other side of the room.
“I don’t want it touching me,” he told her.
“This ain’t my first rodeo.” She cleared her throat loudly. “Maaaaake him beeeetter, maaake it heeeeeal.” She sounded like a billy goat, and Alastair bit back a smile.
“Meeeelt the faaaaat, into his heeeel. Faaaaaster, faaaaaaster and on this note, maaaaake the paaaanther lose to a gooooat.”
An eerie blue light surrounded Wes. The animal fat sizzled on his foot. The room smelled like a Sunday barbecue. It turned liquid as it dissolved into his skin.
“Well,” Baby Fat said as she put down her wand. “That should do it. Coffee?”
“I need to see if anything made the news.”
Baby Fat nodded, indicating Alastair should follow her. “I’ve got a small TV in the kitchen.”
“So, how long will he sleep?”
“Half hour, maybe an hour, and he’ll be kicking his heels in no time.”
Both Alastair’s and Junie’s chuckles floated through the apartment to merge with Wes’s disturbing dreams. He roused from the noise, then let himself be sucked into the strange, mountainous world he had entered. He was high on a hill, the wind blowing harshly, stinging his eyes. He climbed higher, and higher, but he couldn’t figure out why.
Junie pointed the remote, and the television lit up with the evening news. Alastair’s face turned grim when
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