La Bruja-ha

by Lady of Spain

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight

Chapter 1: The Gypsy Lady

It was sickening the way Leah hung all over Curro. Don't get me wrong, I really liked the guy, and he was her imprint, but jeez … I probably shouldn't feel that way tho', seein' as I was like a freakin' piece of Velcro on my main squeeze, Bella Swan. Which reminds me, I left her with Rachel at the house. They were immersed in plannin' the stupid decorations for the grad party. Yeah, believe it or not, La Push High School would actually be rid of us—at least, Paul, Quil, Embry and me.

Curro had picked us up, along with Leah to get him over to the gypsy lady that lived in the old house back aways from the street near Uncle Omni's ranch. Leah had forgotten where she lived, and Paul joined us just to get away from the girls discussin' and fussin' over what color balloons to buy, or how many sprinkles to put on the cupcakes. Seriously? Who cared?

Truth be told, I was ready to scream myself, so when Curro asked me to come with them, as a guide, I readily agreed with thankfulness in my heart. Paul jumped at the chance too. No surprise there.

When we drove up to the shack, Curro was gushin' with words of gratitude.

Nodding his curly, dark-haired head, Curro spoke in his broken English, "Gracias, mi amigo. I would never have found eso casa by myself, for reals. My beautiful Leah had no idea where to find it."

"No problem, but why are we here?"

"Mi compadre, Guilermo, he say una bruja live at this place."

What? "A Bruja?"

"Si, una bruja … how you say in English? Hmn … a witch."

Paul snorted. "Where's the gingerbread?"

"Que?"

Leah rolled her eyes. "Just ignore Paul. He always has something snarky to say. And to answer your question, Curro has an itchy rash that won't go away."

"Allergic to you, is he?" Paul teased.

I gave him the look, and said, "Can it, Paul. Let's go. Move it!"

I'd heard that the woman who occupied this house, was half Makah, and half gypsy, or Romanian, or whatever. She also had a reputation for potions and spells, not that I believed any of that ol' hocus pocus.

When we finally met the lady, I was surprised to see a pipe hangin' off her lower lip. Jeez, she sure looked the part.

Once inside, Curro explained the problem. The gypsy gave him a jar of somethin' or other, and we were ready to vamoose.

"Missy," the ol' woman whispered in a gravelly voice, "Wouldn't you like to know what your future holds? Only one dollar."

I guess Leah must've felt sorry for her, so she agreed. "Sure, sounds like fun."

The ol' woman spread out the Tarot cards over a small table in the cramped room. Leah sat down on a rickety chair and watched as the fortune teller turned them over one by one.

"Hmn … interesting. I've never seen the cards fall this way. I believe you have a long, long life ahead of you and your man. I see the two of you together forever it seems."

"What about children?"

"Ah yes, three of them. One girl, two boys." Leah grinned at that, even if it was a load of malarkey.

When she finished her predictions, she looked at Paul. "What of your future?"

"No thanks, Lady. I know my future, and it ain't that rosy."

Her attention then turned to me. "You?"

"Uh … no, we really need to get back home."

We were barely outta the door when Paul cracked, "What a buncha bull."

The gypsy stopped us, saying, "You don't believe?"

"Not on your life."

Trainin' her eyes on me, she narrowed them, and said, "You are a non-believer too?"

I shrugged. "Well, I guess you could say, I'm not actually the superstitious type." Imagine this coming outta the mouth of a freakin' shape-shifter.

"Oh, you will be."

"How's that?"

She took a puff from her pipe, and said, "I've just put a transference spell on you and your insolent buddy."

"Sure ya did," Paul quipped with a smirk.

"Do not underestimate the abilities of this old woman, young man."

"Phfft!" Paul scoffed.

"Hey, idiot, that's enough outta you," Leah chastised.

We climbed back into the car, Paul jabberin' away the whole time. "Did you hear that ol' crone? She's cast a spell on us … yeah, right."

I was gettin' a little irritated with the big loudmouth. "Thanks a lot, Paul. Now I'm cursed. Did you havta act like such a jerk?"

Leah broke in. "How's that any different today? He's always a jerk."

Keyin' the engine, Curro looked back over his shoulder at Paul, horrified by our talk. "Santa Maria … let us not speak such unpleasantness."

Leah patted his arm. "Okay, just for you, sweetheart."

"Damn, Curro, you've really tamed this shrew. My hat's off to ya. Must be that Latin lover mojo, eh?"

Curro's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Que es this mojo?"

"Don't worry about it, hon. Whatever it is, you've got it in spades."

"Que?"

I gave him a pat on the back. "That was a compliment, sen֮or."

"Ah, si. If you say so."

Bella was waitin' at the house when we arrived, and looked up from clearing all the plannin' stuff strewn over the kitchen table. "Where've you two been?"

Paul jumped right in, head first. "We went to visit an ol' gypsy woman. And get this … She's put a hex on us. Ha!"

"What?"

"You heard me."

She looked from Paul to me. "But why?"

Shrugging, I spouted, "We're unbelievers, so she wanted to prove to us that she's the real deal. Anyway, let's go. I'll take you home, Bells."

I was totally whupped, so I racked out and was out for the count in a matter of minutes.

When I woke up, I was reaaally disoriented. Where the hell was I? Wasn't this Paul's apartment? How did I get here?

Scratchin' my head, I walked into the bathroom to empty my tank. I passed by the mirror, and did a double take. There in living color was a reflection, and it was not mine. Lookin' thru my eyes, it was Paul's face starin' back at me. What the hell!

"I'm cursed, I'm cursed," I screamed. Aaaaah—my voice belonged to Lahote too. Jeez, the ol' gypsy was the real deal after all.

This was freakin' insane. Hoooolleey …that meant Paul was … Nooooo!

% % % % %

Rubbin' the sleep from my eyes, I looked around. What? Man, I must've fallen asleep here. Repositioning myself in this midget-sized bed, I wondered how Jacob could stand lying in this postage stamp? Where was he anyway? On the couch?

Mmn, mmn, the aroma of bacon sizzling in the pan wafted my way. Good deal… I was hungry. Rachel wasn't the shiniest spoon in the kitchen, but she did okay in the breakfast department.

I walked into the room, and my Rachel had a smile for me. "Hey, little brother, dig in. It's all ready."

"What's with the little brother bit?"

Waving the tongs in the air, she said, "You are my little brother, silly. Now, sit down and eat."

"Is this some kind of joke?"

Rachel pointed her utensil at me, and blared, "Just sit your butt down, and stop acting so weird."

Acting?

I pulled up a chair, and plopped down on it. As I picked up my fork, I noticed that my hands looked different. There was a scar running along my right thumb. When the hell did that happen? Glancing down at my chest, I saw the shirt I was wearing. It was Jacob's cheesy rag that read: You can't spell awesome without me in it. Where were my clothes?

Looking up from my plate, I asked Rachel, "Hey, babydoll, what did you do with my clothes? Are they in the wash or something?"

Rachel frowned, getting up from the table. She placed one hand on my forehead. "You feeling all right?"

"Yeah, fine, why?"

"Then why are you calling me baby? My gosh, you sounded just like Paul."

"Huh? What is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means? I swear, you are not yourself this morning, Jake."

Jake? I stood up, toppling the chair over with a crash, in my hurry to get to a mirror. The reflection didn't lie. Sh**, sh**, sh**. Why that ol' dingbat! How could she do this to me?

I left what remained of my breakfast uneaten, and went out to Jacob's garage to drive his Rabbit to MY place. Damn, I was hoping the keys would be in the car. Fat chance … of course. Just my luck.

Back to the house I flew. "Chelle, where are the keys to the Rabbit?"

"How should I know? They're your keys," she yelled from the kitchen.

Muttering more obscenities, I rifled through the top drawer of Jacob's dresser, tossing clothes helter-skelter, then I heard Rachel call, "I found them. In the junk drawer, where you always throw them. What is wrong with you today?"

Good question, but only one right answer, dammit!

% % % % %

The thumpin' on the front door broke me outta my state of shock, and I ran to open it. There I was, standin' in the doorway, starin' back at me. It was freaky—and I mean freaky—lookin' at myself. I blinked and looked again. Jeez … the hair; couldn't he have at least combed it?

"Can you believe this?" he bellowed in my voice. This is just so wrong. I say we pay another visit to the ol' lady."

"Ditto."

I let Paul drive the Rabbit out to witchipoo's place. Shakin' my head, I groused, "I could just kill Curro for draggin' me to see that woman. What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Clutchin' the steerin' wheel in a steel-tight grip, he huffed, "Yeah, I hope to hell his rash gets waaaay worse."

The bruja, as Curro described her, opened the door to her house, and with a puff from her pipe, blew curls of grey smoke in our faces. "So … the boys come to visit the gypsy lady again, eh?"

"And you know why, ol' woman."

Removing the pipe stem from her mouth, she pointed it at Paul, and screeched, "That's Mrs. Rita to you, rudie!"

"Wait a damn minute, we—"

"I interrupted him by nudgin' his shoulder before he dug himself in any deeper, givin' him the shut-the-hell-up-look.

"What do you want from me?"

Paul remained bull-headed as ever. "Don't play innocent with us. You know what we want."

"But you are un-believers," she cackled.

Shovin' Paul aside, I said, "Not anymore, ma'am. We're sorry for that, but can you please reverse the spell?"

Her jaw tightened, and she hissed, "Not so fast, sonny. Come back in a week."

"A week? Now, look here, lady."

She calmly turned to me. "You should advise your rude friend here, to button his lip if he ever wants his body back. Unfortunately, the spell has cast its net over you as well."

"Paul, shut it please … for my sake, huh?"

"Like I said, come back in one week's time. My roof leaks, and I need it fixed."

I grabbed the back of Paul's shirt to prevent him from attacking her. "Whaaaat? You want us to re-shingle your roof?"

The gypsy blew another cloud of smoke in our direction, then smiled smugly. "You want the spell reversed; I want my roof repaired."

I yanked Paul back a few steps. "We'll be here."

"And bring a nail-gun. I'll have the rest of the supplies here for you. One more thing … if you tell anyone what has happened to you while under the spell, it will never be erased."

% % % % %

On the way back to Jacob's place, I was still bristling with anger. Who did that ol' broad think she was anyway, ordering us around like her personal valets?

That also meant that I had to act out the charade, and sleep in that pathetic excuse for a bed, for those long seven days. Damn, damn, damn! And what was I going to do about Chelle? Ah, my head. It was pounding like war drums.

% % % % %

As I pulled up to Paul's apartment, I had to admit, it was nice to sleep in a bed that actually fit my frame.

I drifted off, thinkin' about Bella, and suddenly alert, sat bolt upright. How was I even gonna speak to her in this freakin' body? Jeez, and what about my sister? Would she expect me to … kiss her? Or … no way could I ever think about how far she and Paul went, if ya get my drift. Knowing Paul, I'm sure there were no road blocks left on the highway of his love life. Worse yet, what about Bella and me, or Bella and Paul. Nooooo!