Free The Witch of Agnesi by Robert Spiller

woman winced before she nodded.
    While covering himself with one hand, Earth Father stooped and took Bonnie’s hand in his other. “Winston Bellows.”
    He blanched and pulled his hand away. “You’re bleeding.”
    Terrific. Winston, the bare-assed warlock, has a problem with blood.
    Bonnie bit her lip to keep from screaming. “I don’t want to be pushy, guys, but my hands are the least of my problems. Someone tried to kill me tonight.”
    Winston’s free hand went to where a suit-coat breast pocket would have been. He patted his chest looking for all the world like a man searching for a cell phone. “That’s dreadful.”
    Bonnie wasn’t sure if he meant her ordeal in the desert or his failure to find his phone. She opted for the former. “I, for one, could have gone a long time without the experience. You’re a lawyer, right?”
    “How did you know?” Winston asked.
    “Just a hunch.” She held an arm up to Rhiannon.
    “I think I can walk if you give me a hand.”
    Rhiannon considered the proffered arm. “I don’t think so.” She sat down in the sand then turned back to Winston.
    “Be a lamb and bring a phone. Tell everyone, espe-cially Ali, about our guest. Have her bring an ice pack.”
    Bonnie watched him tip-toe off, wondering what the qualifications were for becoming an Earth Father. She had a feeling he was probably an ace with cross-word puzzles, more than likely knew a lot about wine. “I really am sorry for disturbing . . . whatever it was that was going on here tonight.”
    Rhiannon shifted her naked derriere uncomfortably on the sand and leaned forward. Her face just inches from Bonnie’s, she stared first into one eye then the other. “Apology accepted. By the way, did you know one of your pupils is dilated?”
    Well, Marcie, you may be right about that concus-sion. “I took a fall and hit my head.” She turned her head and showed Rhiannon the blood.
    Earth Mother threw back her head and laughed. “Was this before or after someone tried to kill you?”
    I don’t need this shit from a pagan lunatic. “I tell you what. How about you let me use that phone, and I’ll get the hell out of here?”
    Rhiannon laid a henna-decorated hand on Bonnie’s knee. “It’s Beltane.”
    Bonnie squinted at the woman. “What?”
    “You asked what was going on here tonight. The witchy festival is called Beltane, the celebration of Spring’s fertility.”
    Bonnie wasn’t ready to let go of her anger. “I didn’t ask. I said I was sorry for disturbing your festival, that’s all. I don’t give a furry rat’s behind what you call it.”
    “You’re angry.”
    Bonnie tried to stand. Her ankle shrieked in protest. She gave up the effort, panting in frustration. “Damn right, I’m angry. I come to you for help, and you sit there in your tattooed birthday suit and laugh at me.”
    “I was sad because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”
    “Are you, by any chance, on drugs?”
    Rhiannon laughed again. “Thank you, Goddess. One lesson after another. No, Missus Pinkwater, I am not on drugs. Not since nineteen eighty-nine. And I wasn’t laughing at you.”
    Bonnie lost her grip on her indignation. It was just too damn difficult to be angry with someone who might be mentally unbalanced. “Then what?”
    Rhiannon removed the tiara from her hair and set it on the ground between them. “We had a break-in earlier this evening. My spirit wasn’t right for honoring the Goddess. To tell the truth, I was pissed off. We’ve also had a number of rednecks coming around to gawk at the witches. I guess I was feeling sorry for myself until you told me about your evening.”
    “So, it sucks so much being me that I made you feel better about being you?” Bonnie picked up the tiara and placed it on her own head. “Glad to be of service.”
    Rhiannon scooted forward. She eyed the tiara and straightened it with a nudge. “Not bad. I wish I had a mirror.”
    Bonnie looked up at a sound from beyond