Character - Mordita

Voting from 10/21 through 10/28 on the You Gotta Read Covers blog. Bad Spelling's cover is #16. Please vote!

In Bad Spelling, Kat wants to leave Galdorheim Island to find her father's Siberian family. With no magic of her own, she needs help...lots of help. Yes, her best bud/bro Rune is always up for adventure, but she has to find a powerful witch to help her out.

She figures it can't hurt to ask Mordita. What's the worst that can happen? Well, maybe electrocution from a nasty door knocker or something crawling up her back.

Still, Kat is not deterred. She goes to the creepy, slimy, unlit shack where the Sorceress (the old lady prefers that over Witch) Mordita resides.

Mordita knows all about Kat's slight, ahem, magic deficit disorder (MDD) and is happy to pull a fast one on Thordis. The two don't get along much.

While Mordita has tons of magic, she prefers to maintain her old hag appearance just to keep the Galdorheim witches from stopping by to visit. Mordita is alone, and she likes to keep it that way. She's not quite alone if you want to count a fat orange tiger cat named Kudzu.

Mordita is a mystery. Why did she come to Galdorheim if she doesn't want to consort with the witches and warlocks? Maybe that mystery will be solved, but not in Bad Spelling. You'll have to wait for the second book in the series, Midnight Oil.


EXCERPT

Mordita leaned back from the scrying crystal with a groan. She had been hunched over it for hours, and her old joints and muscles were protesting. In all the time spent staring into the crystal, she caught only brief glimpses of Kat and Rune, but she’d seen enough to follow their progress.

“Time,” she said aloud.

The clock answered, “Five-fifteen p.m.”

Good. Thordis said she’d come to take up the watch at five-thirty. Mordita stretched once more to take the kinks out of her strained back. When scrying, she lost all awareness of her body and the world around her. She should have set a timer to take breaks and stretch.

The door said, “The Witch Thordis approaches.”

“Open.”

Thordis strode into the older witch’s front room, demanding in her usual bombastic style, “Well, what are they up to?”

“Good Even, Thordis. How nice of you to drop by.”

“Sorry, Mordita. Good Even to you, as well.”

Mordita nodded in the direction of the scrying crystal. “The trolls gave them quite a ride through the Mountain King’s caverns. They came out on the east side of the Urals.”
“Hmm. What are they doing?”

“A werewolf pack carried them by sled north toward a Sami village.” Mordita picked up her teacup and tasted. She made a face. “Cold.” She stuck her finger into the cup and stirred. Steam rose from the cup. “They ran into a small problem with some quickmud, but the werewolves pulled them out.” Mordita gestured to the scrying crystal. “Take a look for yourself.”

Thordis sat at the table and examined the crystal. “Hmm, nice. Hardly any flaws.” She settled in the chair, glancing at Mordita. “I’m going to concentrate on Katrina.” She stared into the crystal, and her eyes rolled up in their sockets until only the whites showed.

An hour later, Thordis looked away from the crystal, rubbed her eyes, and accepted the hot cup of tea Mordita offered.