Witch In Charge - Celia Kyle Page 0,30

a flash, exactly what Kelly had asked for was made manifest.

There, frozen on the cushions, was exactly the same little gargoyle, but the rock he’d been carved from was replaced with soft, pink flesh—all the way down to a dangly set of miniature privates.

“I hope he’s packing more than that,” Tiffany whispered to Ryan.

“No joke,” he smirked. “Otherwise all this is going to leave her reeeeaaally disappointed.”

This time Aurora shushed them in the way only an investigator at Othercross Judiciary could, then fixed them with a killer stare.

“Am I going to have to separate you two?”

Undaunted, Kelly scrunched up her face and focused even harder than before. Wiping the spell away again, she was determined to give this one all she had. She was going to break this curse if it was the last thing she ever did. Searching through her brain, it was as though the words bubbled up from a well deep inside her.

By all the stars that reign around the moon, I break the magic that has kept you bound. From this time forth, your spirit shall dance in freedom.

She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and let 'er rip.

“Per omnes stellae circa ipsum regnum, luna, et conteram in magica, qui privavit te fructu tenetur. Amodo, spiritu libertatis saltabunt!”

A splintering sound shook the walls on every side. A new kind of power surged through her veins, and a thunderbolt rang out in the room. In the following silence, there was a collective gasp behind her and Kelly was sure she’d been successful. But when she opened her eyes, she was unprepared for what sat before her.

The gargoyle sat on the couch, still made entirely of stone. From its upper lip hung a very distinguished, very large handlebar mustache, exactly the type a six-year-old might wear on Halloween. That was set off by a fetching pink tutu around his waist. Kelly stood in shocked silence, but everyone else practically fell out of their chairs, racking their lungs with laughter.

Even Nathan joined in, almost spitting out his beer in the process. They may have been having a great time, but Kelly was crushed. Clearly, she didn’t have the powers she thought she did.

Just then, a flash of red light shot through the lair, a sign the last leg of the sun had disappeared below the horizon. For all her effort, she hadn’t broken the spell, and Ronun was about to come to himself again. With a rumbling shudder, he did.

Blinking, stunned at the group of astonished faces in the dank cave surrounding him, he looked completely cornered. His lip twitched, then his fingers flew to his mouth to inspect the distinguished, old-timey mustache.

“What the…?”

As much as Kelly would have loved to stop him, the horse had already left the stable. Ronun looked down and caught sight of the dainty tutu circling his waist. He flew to his feet, quaking with rage, and Kelly could smell every bit of the shit she had just stepped in. For all her good intentions, this whole party had been a disaster.

Ronun glared at Kelly as her friends melted into laughter again. If the situation could have gotten any worse, that was the thing to do it.

“What the fuck?!”

Twelve

Everything up to that point had been merriment, but Ronun’s fury stopped the room cold. There was a moment of suspension, as everyone calculated their best next move. Even in human form, an angry gargoyle was something to be reckoned with, and none of them wanted to be on hand to bear his wrath.

In a flash, they all scrambled over each other, diving for any exit they could find. Hollow House helped them by melting the creepy lair back into its normal self. Kelly alone remained, prepared to bear the weight of whatever might come. Really, nothing he could do or say would make her feel much worse. She’d tried to free him and failed.

As she stood, her eyes fixed on the swelling figure in his tutu, she braced herself. Then, all at once, it was like all the air went out of him. Ronun slumped down onto the sofa and put his head in his hands.

“Dammit,” he whispered to himself. “Just…dammit.”

Kelly inched closer, a nervous little prickle in the base of her stomach. He wasn’t angry. Well, he probably was, but more than anything else, he looked defeated. As if he were completely humiliated and exhausted by the sheer might of it.

The queasy feeling in her gut settled into guilt. All her efforts had