A Witch's Work Is Never Done

by Kate Moseman

  There was no going back. By her will alone, she would build a new life out of the shrieking chaos.

  She drew upon the waterfall of power, drawing it through and away from Lizzy, holding it above them all.

  His hands extended, Nathan split the burgeoning energy into four strands, directing one to each of the three witches and one into the distance.

  The magic cascaded into her wand. She feared it would catch fire in her hair but didn’t dare move. She used her enhanced power to push back on the wild magic like twisting a cap on a bubbling bottle of soda.

  Raya withdrew her hand from Lizzy.

  Lizzy clenched her hands into fists.

  The witches gasped as one.

  It was over.

  Raya collapsed next to Lizzy, their exerted breathing ringing loudly in the stone room.

  Nathan slid down the wall into an exhausted crouch, resting his head on his knees.

  Raya tilted her head toward Nathan. “You could have told me this place was a powder keg.”

  He looked up. “Would it have stopped you?”

  She knew the answer, and he did too.

  Lizzy hauled herself up from the floor and stretched. “I could use a long nap and a steak. Maybe two steaks!” She reached her hand down to help Raya up.

  Raya took it and swayed unsteadily to her feet.

  Lizzy threw her arms around Raya. “We did it!”

  Raya didn’t have the energy to escape, so she stood there and let Lizzy squeeze her until the air in her lungs felt scarce.

  Lizzy let go and gave Raya a teasing push. “And who was that handsome fellow?”

  Nathan stood up. “I didn’t see anyone handsome.”

  Lizzy giggled. “Quiet, you. Come on, Raya—dish!”

  “Who?” Raya turned away and rummaged in her pack to stall for time.

  “If you were thinking about him during all that, he must be pretty special.” Her musical voice echoed in the night.

  The last thing Raya needed was to reveal her demon acquaintance. “Just someone I met at the convention.” Raya shrugged her pack onto her back, hoping Lizzy would let the subject go.

  No chance.

  “Good-looking witch in a black leather jacket? You better lock him down, girl.”

  Raya winced at the irony of Lizzy’s assumption that Phoenix was a witch. “Well—”

  “Oh! I know! You should bring him to the party at the end of the convention.” Lizzy bounced up and down.

  Raya felt the color drain from her face and thanked the universe it was still dark. “I don’t think—”

  “On the last night of the convention! Of course you should. Even Nathan is going.” She pranced over to Nathan and mussed his hair.

  “Not willingly.” He allowed Lizzy’s touch without showing any sign of noticing it.

  Raya’s gaze traveled between the two witches. What a weird dynamic they had. Her life would never be that complicated.

  Not if she had anything to say about it.

  The witches trooped down the stairs and into the woods. Disorientation, exertion, and lack of sleep took its toll—the dark forest emanated an unreal quality, made worse by the latent power leaking from their wands and spiraling away into the canopy.

  A nap and two steaks sounded like a solid plan.

  When they finally reached the edge of the forest, the witches faced each other.

  Nathan, solemn as ever, said nothing. The streetlights lining the edge of the forest cast a yellow glare across his glasses.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” said Raya. It felt formal but appropriate, and she was too tired to come up with anything better.

  “Where are you staying?” asked Lizzy.

  “In Paris?”

  “No, silly. Here.”

  “Oh.” Raya hesitated. “I’m not. I took the train from Paris this morning.”

  “But it’s the middle of the night! No trains are running now.”

  Raya opened her mouth to suggest she would find a McDonald’s, or the French equivalent, that was open 24 hours, to wait for the trains to start running. She didn’t get a single word out.

  Lizzy threw her arms in the air. “Sleepover!”

  “That’s not necessary, really—”

  Lizzy didn’t let her finish. She hooked her arm through Raya’s and skipped down the sidewalk.

  Raya nearly fell over from the sudden movement. To regain her balance, she had to start skipping, too. The absurdity of the situation hit her full force. A laugh bubbled out, which set Lizzy off—and they both doubled over, laughing like madwomen.

  Nathan observed them impassively. “Are you two finished?”

  Raya wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

  Lizzy caught Raya’s gaze and winked. “Come on, Nathan, you know you want to.”

  They rushed him as one, seizing his arms and very nearly dragging him until he gave up the fight and lifted his feet in a reluctant skipping motion.

  Raya settled into an upholstered chair in Lizzy’s room, too tired to stand and too adrenalized to lie down.

  Lizzy, who had disappeared into the bathroom, poked her head around the corner. “Are you going to sleep?”

  “I don’t think I can. I feel like I drank a pot of coffee.”

  “Good!” Lizzy bustled over, her hands full of something that clinked together as she carried them. She deposited two handfuls of nail polish bottles onto the table next to Raya.

  “Don’t you want to sleep?”

  Lizzy fluttered her hands. “Can’t. Whenever I handle that much power, I’m wired for hours. Might as well make the most of it. Which color do you like?”

  “Me? I’m not much of a paint-your-nails person.”

  Lizzy continued to stare at her with hope in her eyes.

  “But I guess I could go with this one.” Raya picked up a red bottle.

  “I love it! This is going to be so fun.” She plopped into the other chair and reached across the table for Raya’s hand. “So tell me all about your guy.”

  “He’s not actually my guy.” Raya’s nerves fired up as she wondered what Lizzy could sense about her just by holding onto her hand. Then she got even more nervous when she thought about Lizzy sensing her nervousness.

  She willed herself to calm down. It was only a manicure.

  Lizzy shook the bottle and removed the cap. “I sense you have some strong feelings about him.”

  Damn it.

  Raya laughed it off. “Strong feelings like annoyance, maybe.”

  Lizzy stroked a smooth coat onto one nail. “Really?”

  Sweat broke out on Raya’s forehead. Could you block another witch’s perception? She had no idea. She’d never worked with witches before and she didn’t dare try a spell now.

  Nine nails to go.

  “Because it doesn’t feel like annoyance to me.” Lizzy dipped the brush into the bottle and brushed the lacquer onto another nail.

  Raya swallowed. “No?”

  Lizzy blithely stroked a coat of polish onto the next nail. “It feels like fear.”

  Raya almost tore her hand out of Lizzy’s gentle grasp.

  Lizzy painted the ring and pinkie finger nails with two quick swipes. “That’s one hand done.”

  Raya did not want to put her other hand in Lizzy’s.

  She had to put her other hand in Lizzy’s.

  Lizzy took it and applied polish slowly and carefully to the first nail. “Not that you’re afraid of him, but that you’re afraid of what he is to you.”

  It took every ounce of Raya’s restraint not to snatch back her hand and run out the door.

  Lizzy didn’t look up as she painted the next nail. “Am I wrong?”

  Could she lie? How could she lie when she didn’t even know the answer to the question? “I don�
��t know.”

  Four nails to go.

  Now Lizzy looked up, her eyebrows lifted. “You don’t know?”

  “I guess I never thought about it.”

  Which was true.

  Lizzy dipped the brush and painted the next nail. “This color looks good on you.”

  Raya looked at the red shade on seven of her nails. It certainly made an excellent symbol of the panic blaring in her brain. “Maybe I should get a red dress for the party.” Maybe, if she mentioned dresses, Lizzy would stop going on about hidden feelings.

  “I see you wearing black.” Lizzy painted another nail. “And”—here she paused to reload the polish on the brush—“I see him wearing black, too.”

  Raya twitched as Lizzy painted the last two nails.

  Lizzy tilted her head and smiled as she released Raya’s hand. “See? I told you this would be fun.”

  12

  Raya scooped up a large bouquet of roses from the florist’s stand and buried her face in the red petals. They matched her nails. If Lizzy hadn’t fallen asleep, she probably would have attempted to paint Raya’s toes, too, just to have an excuse to get more details about Raya’s mystery man—who wasn’t a man at all—and, for that matter, wasn’t Raya’s, either.

  She’d barely managed to slip away to catch the first train of the morning back to Paris while Lizzy slept.

  A few café au laits would remedy the effects of a sleepless night, for now.

  Belatedly, she remembered that touching an item signaled intent to purchase. Her gaze traveled up from the red roses to the shopkeeper, who fixed her with a pointed look.

  She owed herself a treat after such a long night, didn’t she?

  Raya dug in her pockets for enough money to purchase the bouquet.

  The shopkeeper’s expression became much sunnier as he wrapped her purchase in paper, tied it with a bow, and handed it back to her.

  Raya hugged the bouquet and continued down the sidewalk. At her hotel, she greeted Ahmed, the hotel clerk, with a cheery wave of the roses, and continued upstairs to stash them in her room.

  Only when she reached her room did she realize she had no vase. She briefly considered filling the small trash can with water, then settled on stoppering the bathroom sink and propping the cut ends of the flowers in the water.

  She had almost left the bathroom when a thought struck her. Why not use the minor summoning she’d learned at the convention to contact Phoenix? Whereas a major summoning was like lassoing someone against their will, a minor summoning was no more intrusive than calling someone on the phone.

  Surely he wouldn’t mind.

  She turned back to the sink and tore all the petals from one rose.

  Where to cast the spell? She didn’t dare ruin the carpet, so the hotel room floor was out of the question. Raya evaluated the amount of space around the sink and decided it would suffice. She retrieved her spellcasting supplies, consecrated the tiny area with her wand, then built the altar according to the requirements of a minor summoning, arranging the rose petals around it.

  She carefully lit the candles and took a cleansing breath. The extra power vibrating through her set her head spinning. She steadied herself against the sink and concentrated. “Phoenix,” she whispered, attempting to harness the power without allowing it to blast through her uncontrolled.

  Unlike the first time they’d met, when her summons had dragged him unwillingly away from some sort of debauched party, this time he would come—or not—as he chose.

  Nothing.

  She breathed the fragrance of the rose petals and tried again. “Phoenix.”

  Still nothing.

  Fickle demon. Leave it to Phoenix to refuse to answer the metaphorical phone. It would have been easier to simply cast the major summoning and call him up whether he wanted to show or not. “Third time’s the charm,” Raya muttered. “Phoenix!”

  The candles extinguished themselves, plunging the room into darkness. Raya instantly felt a presence behind her.

  “Did you summon me into a bathroom, witch?”

  Raya hastily reached for the light switch. Light flooded the room, revealing Phoenix, who cocked a haughty eyebrow at Raya’s reflection in the mirror.

  “I’m sorry—did you have somewhere else in mind?”

  Phoenix’s mouth went slightly agape. “No—”

  “Then don’t criticize.” Raya slid past him and out of the bathroom.

  He followed, folding his dark red wings away. “You smell like a magic forest fire.” He wrinkled his nose and fanned the air. “What did you do out there? I could feel the blast all the way from here.”

  “I got more magic.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say about it?”

  “It is until I get something to eat. A steak, preferably. My treat.”

  “Your treat? Are you ill?”

  “No, I’m just hungry.”

  “Well, I don’t eat. So that’s not much of a treat.” Phoenix sat on the bed and crossed his arms.

  Raya took her jacket from the closet and put it on. “No? You drink, though. Like a fish, as I recall.”

  Phoenix sprang up. “Now you’re talking. How about a brasserie?”

  “I don’t need a bra, Phoenix. I need a steak.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Not a brassiere, you philistine. A brasserie: a restaurant that serves beer, bread, steak, and fries.”

  Raya laughed. “Oh! In that case, lead the way.”

  Mirrors covered nearly every wall of the neighborhood brasserie, making it almost impossible to judge the size of the restaurant at a glance. Brass fixtures, white tablecloths, and dark wood completed the old-school Parisian look.

  Raya slid into a seat on the leather banquette, while Phoenix took a chair across the table.

  The waiter delivered the printed menus and left them to examine the choices.

  Phoenix tossed his menu on the table.

  Raya peered at the French words. “Which one is a steak?”

  Phoenix smirked. “You’ll never guess.”

  She shook the menu as if airing a sheet. “Yes, I will. Let’s see—oh.” Her finger landed on the French word for steak.

  It was “steak.”

  He chortled as the realization hit her.

  Raya picked up her napkin and whipped him with it. “Very funny.”

  When the waiter returned, she ordered steak frites and a glass of champagne.

  Phoenix ordered only a bière.

  “Why don’t you order some food? I know you can eat.”

  “Eating is weird.” Phoenix waved his hand negligently. “And human.”

  “And drinking’s not?”

  “I choose to ignore the contradiction.”

  Raya snorted. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, cradling his face in his hands. “Tell me more about this so-called ‘denial’ of which you speak. Does it have anything to do with hanging out with a demon while also avoiding letting your witchy friends know about it?”

  The waiter delivered their drinks.

  Raya took a sip of champagne. “I’m not in denial.”

  “That is a classic example of denial.”

  “Shut up.”

  He took a drink of beer and smacked his lips. “You’re a great big ball of contradictions and denial.”

  “And what does that make you?”

  Phoenix shrugged. “You tell me, Witchiepoo.”

  Raya set her glass down with a thunk. “You’re just an immortal trust fund kid with the attention span of a squirrel.”

  “You wound me.” He pressed his hand where his heart would be, if he had one. “My attention span extends for minutes—nay, hours.” He cocked his head. “How long have I been putting up with you
, anyway?”

  “You’re the one who followed me to Paris.”

  “I? Followed you? I was visiting Paris before your umpteenth grandsire was born.”

  “And your latest trip just happened to coincide with mine?”

  Phoenix swallowed a gulp of beer. “I was bored.”

  Raya threw her hands up. “And there we have it. You were bored.”

  “What do you think it’s like, being an immortal supernatural being? I’ve seen it all. I’ve done it all. Now I just—wait.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know!” He caught her gaze across the table, his eyes troubled. “What would you do?”

  “Me? Travel, I guess.”

  “But what if you’ve already been everywhere?”

  “Study? Learn something?”

  “For what?”

  Raya shrugged. “Just for the joy of it, I guess?”

  “The ‘joy’ of it palls, I can tell you, after a few thousand years.”

  The waiter delivered Raya’s platter of food, piled high with steak and french fries and emanating a heavenly smell.

  “Mmm. Smell that.” Raya leaned over the plate and inhaled.

  Phoenix wrinkled his nose.

  Raya cut slices from the steak and examined the doneness. “Perfect.”

  “If you ask for ketchup, I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”

  “I already pretend I don’t know you. So we’ll be even.” She popped a slice of steak in her mouth, followed by a fry.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is, anyway.” He eyed the steak.

  She waggled a slice on a fork at him.

  He snatched it and bit into the steak like a reluctant child. Chewing thoughtfully, he handed her the empty fork. “Not bad.” Then he stole a fry.

  “I thought you didn’t eat.”

  “I don’t.” He stole another fry.

  “Are you saying that being a demon is boring, essentially, because you don’t die?”

  Phoenix finished the fry and swallowed. “Well, aren’t you an uplifting dinner companion?”

  She ignored the sarcasm. “I mean, I know I’m going to die someday. So I go to Paris, I eat steaks and drink champagne, and I become the best witch I can possibly be, because I have a timer hanging over my head.”