“Ciar?” Wyn called out. “If you can understand us bark. Or better yet, shake a paw. Who’s a good puppy?”
Mikayla whacked her irreverent sister over the head. “Lay off.”
The poodle stared up at them with the same unchanging, adorable expression.
“Come on, Ciar. Give us a woof or something,” Tamsyn encouraged.
The dog wagged its little tail.
“Ciar may have made an intelligent man, but in dog form I think he’s riding the short bus,” Wyn said.
“She probably transfigured him into a real poodle. Hopefully, Ciar’s consciousness is firmly on hold for the time being.”
“Is that possible?” Mikayla asked.
“You’re the one who cast the spell. What did you say?” Tamsyn demanded.
“Nothing about him turning into a dog.”
Rising, Wyn faced her sister. Her smile slipped from her lips as her eyes grew serious. “What exactly were your words?”
“Uh…” Mikayla hesitated. “It was only a little rhyme. It just popped into my head but I think there was something about changing his view of me…”
“You cast a spell without testing it first? Or remembering the incantation?” The horror in Tamsyn’s expression was hard to face.
“Mikayla,” Wyn said, looking a bit green herself. “You know there’s a reason witches never cast spells on Halloween. The air is already heavy with magic tonight. Anything we do is amplified a hundredfold. Even the simplest incantation can go wrong on a night like this. I might be the queen of mistakes, but this one really takes the cake.”
“I know, I know. I just…” Mikayla sighed. “I wanted him to really see me. Just once. I thought maybe tonight was my chance. The incantation sort of…slipped out.”
“Apparently,” Tamsyn replied, glancing down at the poodle. She dragged a hand through her hair. “Okay, let’s just get him home and reverse this.”
“All I wanted was to get a drink to celebrate Halloween.” Wyn sighed. “Now we have to figure out how to avoid bloody demon vengeance. Thanks, little sis.”
Mikayla ignored her, crouching down beside the dog.
“Ciar?” she whispered, both hoping and fearing he’d respond. But the dog did nothing to acknowledge he understood her. Instead he planted himself on the ground and looked up at her, his tiny pink tongue lolling from his mouth.
Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. What a mess she’d made. Turning her crush into a dog. And not just any dog, no, she had to change him into a tiny, adorable fluff ball. There was no way he’d ever forgive her for this.
The dog trotted to her side, sniffing her hand. Opening her eyes, she watched the animal try to gain her attention.
“I’m so sorry,” she told him, her voice breaking.
Tamsyn and Wyn stopped their arguing, looking down at her.
“Honey,” Tamsyn said, kneeling by her side. “We’ll fix it.”
“I should have never resorted to magic,” Mikayla replied. “This is not the witch I want to be.”
“Everyone goes a little mad when they care about someone,” Wyn told her, shrugging. “Remember when Tam wrote that dreadful poetry for her crush in twelfth grade?”
Tamsyn hissed at her younger sister.
“That didn’t hurt anyone,” Mikayla replied. “This crosses every line.”
By her side, the dog poked her hand with his small wet nose. Mikayla stroked his head, scratching behind his ear when he wiggled closer.
“Come on,” Tamsyn encouraged. “Let’s get him home before anyone notices he’s gone. We can fix this.”
Wyn reached out to scoop up the dog but Mikayla brushed her hand away.
“Please don’t bite me,” she said to the dog. “Even if I deserve it.”
Carefully she picked him up, cuddling Ciar in her arms. The poodle yipped at her before he settled into a more comfortable position.
“Come on, Mikayla. Let’s go home,” Wyn said.
Together, three witches and a poodle, strode from the deserted alley.
* * * * *
Ciar stared up at the unfamiliar kitchen. Everything was alarmingly large, not to mention walking on four feet instead of two had proved more difficult than anticipated. Twice he’d stumbled into one of the various spell books the sisters had tossed on the table.
Taking a careful step forward, he edged to the side of the table and looked down. Though he was relatively sure he could make the leap, the distance to the floor seemed like a bigger risk than was warranted. Besides, he needed these cursed women to fix him.
A growl built in his throat but he fought the desire to release it. He couldn’t do anything to alert the trio that he knew precisely what was going on. The only advantage he had in this horrific situation was the fact they spoke freely before him, thinking him none the wiser. Ciar could easily imagine what would happen if they knew he was on to them. They’d stuff him in a cage and wash his memories away. Damned witches. It was why he avoided their kind. They were never to be trusted. He let his eyes stray back to the one who had caused all the trouble. Mikayla sat at the table, head in her hands. He tried not to feel sorry for the woman who had bespelled him. Even enraged as he was, he couldn’t ignore the silent pain rolling off her in waves.