Erica was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, waiting for Amber. She’d been waiting for the last hour and she was getting worried. The hotel was actually closer to David’s house than it is to Matt’s, so by rights Amber should have arrived first, if only by a few minutes. That she didn’t was worrying, and as the minutes passed Erica got more and more worried. She couldn’t imagine what could possibly have gone wrong. The spell had worked perfectly. Unless, maybe they had gotten something wrong and Amber had been swapped with someone else maybe. But that couldn’t have happened. Something of the head, something of the bed, something of the sex, and something of the thread. There were at least 4 different personal items needed from each body for the transfer to happen. Hair from his comb, a piece from his pillow, pubic hairs pulled from a pair of recently worn boxers, and a small piece of those same boxers, all collected this afternoon. There was no way for the spell to go so wrong that Amber would have transferred anywhere but to Matt’s body, so of course the spell had worked perfectly. At least it appeared to have. Erica had just assumed the confused person in Amber’s body was Matt. Now she regretted not actually taking the time to confirm that it was. But it couldn’t have been anyone else, could it?
These thoughts tumbled over and over as she sat in the lobby, anxiously watching the door.
She’d dialed Matt’s cell phone several times, but each time it just rang until it went to voice mail. Of course that didn’t mean anything. Knowing Matt he had probably password protected the phone, which meant that Amber couldn’t answer without knowing the code. Too bad he didn’t have one of the latest biometric phone which would have read the fingerprint and let the phone be answered no matter who was in control of the body.
Finally she could take waiting no more. She would drive over to David’s and see if there were any clues to what was going on. Maybe Amber needed help or something.
After leaving word at the desk, just in case, she got behind the wheel of the beat up Chrysler Neon she drove (one of the first things she planned to replace, once she and Amber got their hands on Matt’s money) and began the task of coaxing the balky engine to start. One thing a witch couldn’t do was auto repairs. Their powers worked only on things that were organic in nature, living or once living things. Such was her haste that she didn’t wait until the engine had completely warmed up; instead she pulled the car out of the lot practically as soon as she got the door closed. Fortunately, the stuttering engine refused to stall, and by the time she had reached the freeway that was the quickest route to David’s house, the engine was running as smoothly as it ever did.
As soon as she hit the freeway traffic slowed to a crawl, adding to her frustration and anxiety. It was a full twenty minutes of idling along until the line of cars inched their way down the half mile or so to where she could see the police lights, and another twenty before she passed the overpass that blocked much of the accident scene from view. All the while she cursed whoever it was that designed freeways so that there was no way off them in these situations. Once you see there is a traffic jam it was too late and you were already stuck in it.
By the time she came abreast of the accident scene most of the wreckage had been cleared away. All that remained were a few fire trucks and a flat bed tow truck. One of the vehicles involved was just being loaded onto the truck as she passed. By chance she glanced at the wreck just in time to see the tarp covering it flap aside, exposing the license plate. It took a few seconds for her brain to process what she’d seen, and then she slammed on her brakes, earning the ire of the cars following her that had to do the same to avoid hitting her. Headless of the horns blaring around her she jumped out of the car and ran towards the wreck. Strong arms stopped her before she reached the scene; she struggled a bit, and then collapsed to her knees, sobbing, as the tow driver refastened the tarp, covering the vanity license plate from view. A plate that belonged to a car that she’d seen to many times parked in Amber’s driveway. A plate she knew by heart. Matt-Man. A plate that was on the car Amber would have been driving on her way to the hotel.
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