Rogue Assassin

by Adam Johnson

  Erin listened as I poured out this story. Then she stood up to leave. I stood up too and stepped closer, close enough I could smell her breath, scented with coffee and maple syrup. I had to look up to meet her eyes and once again I had a flash of her pushing me down on her bed. This time I imagined her hands were bloody and left their prints on my naked skin. The thought made me hard. She studied me for a long moment, almost as if she was reading my mind.

  “I don’t much trust men,” she said.

  “You can trust me,” I said.

  “I’ve had lovers betray me before,” she said.

  Lover? She saw my surprise, put her right hand on my chest, just above my heart. I could feel my pulse speed up, knew she felt it too. She smiled. “You will serve me well, Jay,” she said, and it sounded like a command.

  “Yes, my goddess,” I replied, not caring how silly the words might sound if someone overheard them.

  “Come then,” she said. “We have work to do.”

  My job was to lure him out and Erin took care of the rest. Nick Lucas died screaming and I relished the sound. Afterwards, I buried what was left of him in a plot of waste ground not far from where Chester’s body had been left. And after that, Erin rewarded me by taking me to bed, fulfilling all my fantasies and a few of her own.

  Justice…it’s an aphrodisiac.

  ***

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  Read more by Kat Parrish:

  Secret Hexe: Romanov Witches #1

  The Summer Garden

  /gates Between

  Vaikus

  Midnight’s Daughter

  The Howl

  The Howl 2

  The Shadow Palace Trilogy:

  Bride of the Midnight King

  Daughter of the Midnight King

  The Midnight Queen

  The Ostrander Witches:

  Deus Ex Magical

  Magically Delicious

  L.A. Nocturne:

  Tales of the Misbegotten: An L.A. Nocturne Collection

  Misbegotten: L.A. Nocturne #1

  Rezso: L.A. Nocturne #2

  Witch War: L.A. Nocturne #3

  About the author

  Parrish is an international and Amazon bestselling author. She is a former reporter who prefers making things up. Born into a military family, she has lived in seven states and two European countries and dreams of visiting every continent one day. She lives in the Pacific Northwest near a haunted cemetery and several waterfalls.

  *****

  GLASS AND SASS

  An Amethyst’s Wand Shop Mysteries Prequel

  Laura Greenwood & Arizona Tape

  Blurb

  Amethyst likes to do things her own way, even when that means being suspended by the Centre for Wand Control when she uses a material she shouldn't when making wands, ending up with her Grammie's wand making license being suspended.

  But Amy is determined to put it right, even if she has to go toe to toe with the CWC and prove that sea glass isn't an unstable component of wands.

  Can she get the suspension lifted?

  -

  Glass and Sass is prequel to the Amethyst's Wand Shop Mysteries series. The series is urban fantasy mystery with an underlying slow burn romance, the prequel focuses on Amy's first clash with the Centre for Wand Control.

  Chapter 1

  I sip my tea as I make my way down the street. People haven’t started emerging from their homes yet and if I had my way, I wouldn’t have either. I’d be wrapped up in my blankets and dozing away still. But Grammie says there’s no rest when it comes to wand making. Too little time, too many wands. And who was I to dispute that?

  “No rest for the witches,” I mutter to myself. I laugh softly, wishing someone could’ve heard my excellent joke. Then again, maybe not. People aren’t exactly friendly this early. Or ever, really. Especially not to those of us who work in retail. The little bell above the door tinkles happily as I step into the family Wand Shop.

  “Morning.” From behind the counter, Grammie shoots me one of her signature warm smiles. “Morning, Amy. You’re bright and early. Except you don’t look too bright and…” She checks her watch. “You’re not early either.”

  “It’s before nine,” I mutter under my breath, not intending for her to actually hear me.

  The look on Grammie’s face says it all.

  Oops. My bad.

  “It’s just as well you’re here,” she muses. “We have a full client list today. Including the Harringtons and their delightful daughter.”

  I groan. “Please tell me you’re joking?” Cecilia used to be in my class at school, and she wasn’t someone I was eager to spend any more time with than necessary. That girl is a witch with a capital b.

  “They’re good customers of ours.”

  “You only say that because they pay well,” I point out. Grammie chuckles. “When this shop is yours, you’ll learn that is exactly what it takes for a client to be a good one.”

  “When this shop is mine, blablabla,” I mock. “I told you, Topaz is your girl.”

  “No offence to your sister, but she’ll run this Wand Shop when hell freezes over.”

  I know how attached she is to the shop and while I enjoy wand making, it isn’t my passion like hers.

  Carefully, I approach the counter and shoot Grammie an appeasing smile.

  “Grammie… I know you love the shop, but it’s just not my dream. I want to join the Paranormal Police Department and you know my application is pending.”

  “About that…” She sighs as she pulls the latex gloves off with a snap. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  “My letter came, didn’t it?” I ask. Trying to temper my excitement over my dreams coming true, I take another sip of my tea.

  Ouch. Why is it so hot? The little warning they put on the label should be bigger.

  “It did,” Grammie says.

  “And?”

  “You should sit down, Amy,” she repeats.

  “Okay…” I move deeper into the shop, making sure to pat the stone cat on the head as I pass. It’s unforgivable to ignore Herbert.

  I scrape the chair back, wincing at the screech. I could lift it, but I'm too committed to the movement.

  Grammie winces but doesn’t say anything.

  “All right, lay it on me,” I say.

  “A letter came…”

  My heart pounds in my chest. A letter is a good thing, right? Or maybe not. Getting one could mean acceptance into magic schools, but it could also mean being summoned to the gyno. The latter definitely doesn’t count in the fun column of anyone sane.

  “What does it say?” I ask when she doesn’t continue. That isn’t a good sign. Or is it?

  “Just remember, I’m here for whatever you need,” Grammie assures me.

  “Are you just saying that so I remember to visit you from the PPD Academy?” I ask.

  Grammie’s solemn face crushes the glimmer of hope and I frown.

  “Is it not from the PPD?” That's the only reason I can think of for the way she's acting. She knows how crushed I'll be if they don't take me.

  “It is, but…” She pulls a letter from one of the many drawers and holds it out to me.

  “It’s not good news, Amy.”

  I accept the crumpled piece of paper and scan it quickly, desperate to know what it's all about. “They rejected my application? What? Why!”

  “It doesn’t say.”

  “I. But… I don’t understand…” I flip the letter, hoping for an explanation on the backside, but there isn't one. Just an
elegant signature signing off and wishing me well in my future endeavours. Assholes.

  Grammie places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, dear.”

  “Fuck them.”

  “Language.”

  “Curse them.”

  “Much better.” With a saddened smile, she reaches back into the drawer.

  “There’s something else…”

  “It can't get much worse,” I mutter, my mouth ashen.

  “Well… That wasn’t the only letter that arrived this morning.”

  While Grammie had sounded deflated when she handed me my PPD letter, she sounds downright devastated now.

  That isn't good news.

  I swallow a lump away. “What is it? Is it Mum? Dad? Topaz?”

  “No, it’s the shop.” She hands me the second letter. “The Centre of Wand Control has temporarily suspended my license.”

  “What?!”

  I bounce up from the chair, my sadness erased by the bubbling anger. Nobody messes with my Grammie’s shop, not even the CWC. My eyes tear through the letter, scanning the passages in the hope that their message would change. Why are they suspending our shop’s license?

  “Unauthorised wand making on the premises?” I read out loud. “Are they serious?”

  “The CWC is always serious,” Grammie replies. “They’re launching an investigation and in the meantime, we’re reduced to repairs and maintenance.”

  “I don’t understand. How can they think that you’re doing something wrong? You? You’re always teaching me the rules, blabbering on and on about what is and isn’t allowed. You probably know the rulebook better than whoever wrote it!”

  “I do not blabber, Amethyst.”

  Oh no. That tone of voice is never a good one. I know I'm in trouble when Grammie uses it.

  “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” I correct myself instantly. “I know what you’re telling me is important.”

  She sighs. “But you don’t want to be a wandmaker.”

  “I…” There are no words to describe the complexity of how I feel about our profession. It isn’t that I didn’t like making wands. Far from it. I love the feel of wood beneath my hands, and the way different things can make it more powerful. But it’s not my primary calling. Wand making is a family business, and I don’t want to simply disappear into the long line of makers without being myself first.

  Hence the PPD. It would be awesome to spend time solving crimes and keeping the paranormal community safe. The sting is made worse by the fact they keep advertising that they wanted witches and mages to sign up because of our unique skill sets.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to let myself shout out about the unfairness of it all.

  “I’m sorry, Amy,” Grammie says. “You can try again next year?” she suggests softly. I shake my head, choosing to ignore the single tear rolling down my cheek. “It’s not that,” I counter. “I know I can try again with the PPD. I’m more worried about the CWC and why they think this is acceptable. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I promise.”

  She smiles at me dotingly. She probably doesn’t think I have a chance at doing that. The CWC is secretive at the best of times. I don’t want to think about how they are at the worst of times and this surely is the worst of times.

  With a sigh, I rise from the chair and tighten my jacket. “I’ll let you deal with the Harringtons. I’m going to have a talk with the CWC.”

  “Be careful, Amy.” Grammie moves to make eye contact with Herbert. “Make sure she’s safe, will you?”

  “I’ll be safe,” I tell both Grammie and the stone cat. “Don’t worry about me, Herb.” The stone cat vibes reassuringly and I take that as encouragement. With a nod, I leave the wand shop, ready to launch my own investigation and make the CWC regret ever messing with my family.

  Luckily, I know just where to start.

  Chapter 2

  I drop my empty takeaway cup into a bin as I approach the corner of the street that has the unfortunate job of housing the local Centre for Wand Control office. It's far from the biggest in the country, but it's likely to be the one that's investigating us.

  And it's the only one within easy walking distance of our shop.

  The building looms above me, grey and uninviting. Why do they have to have such a boring looking building? It’s like they don’t want visitors. I know that if I ask I'll get the standard response that they're trying to put humans off going inside, but that's ridiculous and like they haven't heard of a little thing called spell casting. A little bit of that and any potential human problems go away.

  Oh well. It won't matter how boring the outside is when I have to go in. I hope they at least have comfortable seats in the waiting room.

  I stride forward, projecting as much confidence as I can. Perhaps they will simply tell me what I need to know, and I won’t have to do too much work to uncover it. A small part of me would be disappointed in the lack of challenge. All right. A large part of me.

  The automatic doors part the moment I stand in front of them. Perhaps we should put something similar into the shop? No, that’s not a good idea. Herbert would probably take it upon himself to open them and set off the bell every time my back was turned just to drive me crazy. To be honest, I’m surprised he doesn’t do something similar to that already. He's a very mischievous sort of gargoyle. Most of them are far more serious than he is. Not that I'm complaining. Life would be dull without Herb.

  The witch behind the front desk looks up from examining her bright red nails. I don’t understand how she could work with wands with such long fake nails, they strike me as incredibly impractical.

  Despite that, I find myself a little self-conscious about my own neatly trimmed short nails and have to resist the urge to hide them behind my back.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asks flatly, barely giving me a second glance.

  I roll my eyes. So much for British hospitality. Hasn't she heard of customer service?

  “I was looking to speak to Mr Richards,” I say, assuming the man who signed the letter about the investigation is the person I need to talk to. I'm well aware that it's probably a premade letter with the signature just copied in, but even if someone else put his name on it, he should be willing to back it up.

  If not, then I'll make it so he does.

  “He only takes appointments," she responds in a bored tone.

  “Then I’d like to make an appointment with him,” I say through gritted teeth. It's so typical. The CWC always wants other people to do things on their terms, but they aren't interested in working around other people's. I have a few choice words for upper management about that.

  If I ever get in front of them.

  She turns away from me and types something into her computer. “When did you have in mind?”

  “I’m free now." I leave off the obviously even though I want to say it.

  “The earliest slot available is in three weeks,” the secretary chimes lifelessly.

  “Three weeks?” The investigation is next weekend, three weeks isn't going to cut it. “But I need to see him now.”

  “Unfortunately, he only takes appointments. Mr Richards is a very busy man.” I try to stop myself from rolling my eyes. This woman is just doing her job and it isn’t fair of me to take my frustration on Mr Richards out on her when all she's doing is repeating the line he probably tells her to say to every unhappy wandmaker who ends up through the CWC's door.

  Which is probably a lot. They're known for being rather heavy-handed when they want to be. Frustrated, I draw in a clenched breath. “It’s really urgent and it won’t take long. Is there no way to get in earlier?”

  She shoots me an apologetic smile, the first hint that she's not happy with having to deny me as much as she is. “I’m sorry, he only—”

  “Takes appointments,” I finish her sentence for her. “It’s fine, I’ll find another way.” With the disapp
ointment coursing through me, I turn away from the front desk. Clearly, the customer isn’t king here.

  Maybe I can’t get an appointment, but Mr Richards has to come and go and, lucky for me, there's a nice lounge right near the entrance of the building. It seems like the drab and boringness is exclusive to the outside of the building. The red cushions looked a little uncomfortable, but there’s a vending machine with cold drinks and snacks. Enough to keep me going while I camp out and wait for him to come down.

  I smile at the receptionist, but she's already turned back to her nails. Instead of engaging with her again, I make my way over to the machines, and grab myself a can of lemonade and a chocolate bar. It's the kind of breakfast Grammie would take one look at and tut. She'd never say anything other than that, but her expression alone would be enough to have me reaching for a healthier option.

  It's a good job she isn't here right now.

  Besides, if I'm going to have to take on the bureaucracy of the CWC, then I'm going to do it with tasty snacks. That's why I always keep some in my bag. I sit back down, ignoring the pointed looks from the woman behind the desk who seems to have noticed that I haven't disappeared. It’s safe to say she doesn’t like me. Probably because I want her to do her job. Some people are funny like that.

  My mind begins to wander. Is Grammie doing okay back at the shop? Have the Harringtons arrived already? I hope she isn’t too stressed without me there. Then again, with the ban on making wands, she doesn’t really need me. Especially as she's been running the shop on her own for a long time until she started training me to take over at fifteen. I've never asked her why Mum or one of my Aunts didn't take over.

  I reach to my waist to touch my wand to make sure it's still there. I do that every so often when I’m in public to make sure no one has taken it. Wand theft is more common than witches like to admit and comes with more paperwork than I care to fill out at this time in the morning. Despite each wand being the perfect match for its owner, they'll still work for any witch. Unlike mage staffs that'll only work for the mage who crafted it. I envy them that. I hate it when people ask to borrow my wand and wish I could say no.