“Let’s begin the spirit-raising spell.” Godiva removed the band from her hair, letting the long pale strands cascade down her back. She breathed deeply of the night air. “We need to be naked for this one, so no part of our magic is trapped in the clothing fibers.”
“Oh, great,” was Glory’s reply. She remained still,
“Yes. Now hurry and take off your clothes. I need to get home and feed Romeo.” Romeo, the perfect name for her injured wolf. He’d charmed her with only a look.
Already Godiva missed him. He’d become her constant companion, a comfort in these last dark days. She wished there were something she could do for Genevieve, anything to remove the haunted glaze from her sister’s eyes.
Remaining silent, Genevieve removed her clothing. Godiva unbuttoned her dress and shimmied it down her voluptuous hips. The buttercup yellow material pooled at her feet. A chill night breeze wisped around them, and with a sigh, Glory, too, stripped.
“There,” she said. “Now we can begin. Form a circle and clasp hands.”
The tortured howl of a wolf cut through the darkness. Godiva stilled. Had Romeo somehow gotten out of the house and now stalked the woods, searching for her? Another howl erupted through the night.
“Oh, Goddess.” Losing all trace of color, Glory shoved her hair out of her face. “The wolves are out. Maybe we should go home.”
“We’ll be fine,” Godiva said, though she was worried. For a different reason. She didn’t fear the wolves; she feared for Romeo. What if he got in another fight and was injured again? He might not survive this time. Her need to hurry increased.
She was just about to grab her sisters’ hands when, a few feet away, her gaze snagged a silver phone and a masculine arm. Her mouth fell open. A cold sweat broke over her skin. “Girls,” she whispered frantically. “Someone is taking pictures of us.”
“Did you say someone is taking pictures of us?” Glory’s silver eyes narrowed. “Nobody takes secret pictures of me unless I’ve had time to diet.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.” Cold and emotionless, Genevieve raised her hands into the air, a dark spell slipping easily from her lips.
A startled scream echoed through the night.
“What did you do?” Glory bent down and swiped up her broom.
“See for yourself.”
The girls closed ranks on the tombstone, circling the intruder and blocking him from escape. They found the flip phone hovering in the air in front of a trembling, horrified man, the phone clamping and snapping its way down his body. Only after it had bitten his favorite appendage (twice) and he screamed like a little girl (twice) did it fall to the ground.
“John Foster,” Glory gasped. “You big pervert. Does Hilde know you’re out here? And staring at our breasts, no less?”
“Please don’t tell her—your breasts are so big.” Eyes widening, he said, “I mean, I don’t want her to know—I want to touch your breasts.” He shook his head, but his gaze remained glued on Glory’s chest. He licked his lips. “What I mean to say is—double-D fun bags are my favorite.”
Glory smacked him over the head with her broom. “Letch!”
“Bastard!” Godiva grabbed her own broom and popped him dead center in the face.
“This was the wrong day to piss me off, John.” Genevieve didn’t have her broom in hand, so she raised her arms high in the air and uttered another incantation. “You like breasts so much, you can have a pair of your own.”
His shirt ripped down the middle as a huge pair of breasts grew on his chest. He stared down at them, his mouth gaping open. “What the hell! Get them off, get them—hey, these are nice.” Closing his eyes, he reached up and kneaded his new breasts, a rapturous smile spreading across his face. “Mmm,” he muttered.
“Undo the spell!” Glory scowled. “Undo the spell right now. We’ll punish him another way.”
“No, this is punishment,” he cried, covering the man-boobs protectively. “I swear. Don’t take them away. I’ve got to learn my lesson.”
Genevieve did as Glory suggested, and John’s chest shrunk back to its normal size. He bawled like a baby the entire time. He even tried to dart out of their circle, but Godiva locked his feet in place with a wave of her hand.
“Not so fast,” she said.
His eyes widened with horror. “What are you going to do to me? I didn’t mean any harm. I only wanted a peek at your boobies.”
Without saying a word, the three sisters tugged at the rest of his clothing, peeling it from his middle-aged body until he wore nothing but a few teardrops. Since he’d gotten a look at their goods, it was only fair they got a look at his.
“Ew, gross,” Glory said. “Maybe we should dress him again. I’m throwing up in my mouth.”
“That will just waste more time,” Godiva replied. “We’re going to cast our spells around you.”
Glory’s gaze darted between his legs. “Yes,
That dried his tears. “You mean you’re not going to hurt me, and I get to watch you dance? Naked?” He tried real hard not to grin. “Thank you, Great Goddess. Have mercy. Oh, have mercy. Lots and lots of mercy and breasts and mercy. Amen.”
“I swear,” Genevieve said, “you’re the scum of the earth.”
“Ignore him,” Godiva said after another wolf howl echoed through the night. “We need to get to work.”
“Fine.”
“Yes. Let’s hurry.” Genevieve found her broom half buried in a mound of dirt, snatched it up, and rejoined the circle.
The three sisters closed their eyes, blocking out John’s image and his voice, and in perfect sync began their protection spells. Round and round they danced, their hips undulating, their hair swaying, their brooms raised high in the air. Each one chanted under her breath.
While she danced, Godiva stumbled over the spell’s words, unable to push Romeo from her mind. That last howl had sounded pained. Was he hurt again? Should she go looking for him? He was one of the biggest, strongest, fiercest wolves she’d ever seen, but he possessed a gentle and loving nature and other beasts of the forest might trample him.
Suddenly Glory stopped, her breasts jiggling with the abrupt halt.
“What are you doing? Keep moving,” John whined. “I’m still praying.”
She frowned. “Does it feel like the ground is shaking?”
Godiva stilled, followed quickly by Genevieve. In the next instant and seemingly without provocation, Glory stumbled backward and landed on her butt.
“What’s going on?” Godiva gasped as dirt began cracking at her feet. Grass began splitting. Flowers tumbled off of tombstones . . . and then the tombstones themselves tumbled to the ground. “What’s going on?” she asked again, her tone more frenzied.
Glory popped to her feet, and Genevieve paled. “I think—ohmygoddess—I think the bodies are rising!”
“That can’t be.” Glory sucked in a breath, whirling around to scan the surrounding area. “We only called forth their spirits.”
“Well, the dirty bastards didn’t listen!”
“I don’t understand. Did we say the wrong words?” Godiva asked.
A bony hand shot through the cracked dirt and latched onto John’s ankle. Startled, he screamed and would have dropped into a fetal ball and sucked his thumb if his feet hadn’t been frozen in place. All over the cemetery, bodies rose. Most were completely decayed, but all still wore their worm-eaten burial clothes. As they emerged, they limped, lumbered, and trudged toward the sisters. Deadly moans echoed across the distance.
“What should we do?” Glory gasped out, holding out her broom like a sword. “What the hell should we do?”
