All the Pretty Witches

by Lauren Quick

  “Right now, kitten. Meet us in the Owl Bar in ten minutes and let the fur fly.”

  8

  The sky had darkened quickly. A tumble of purple storm clouds had rolled in and blotted out the blue sky. Spring was a temperamental season, as Honora well knew. Rain fell in fat heavy drops, the downpour gaining momentum, tapping relentlessly on the roof above her head, and pouring from the sky in a torrent. Thunder boomed, rattling her bones. It was the worst flying weather possible, but she had no choice. She adjusted her goggles and dove head first into the sheets of rain, flying onward.

  Raindrops ran down the length of her jacket as she touched down and quickly pushed open the door to her favorite bar. A chill cascaded over her body. She hated that they had to do this here, but the Owl Bar was a popular institution filled with old-school witches who loved to gossip. Where else would word get out quicker? The sound of ruffling feathers and squawks competed with the lively crowd. Dozens of carved wooden perches were positioned around the room supporting an array of feathered familiars.

  The bar had multiple staircases leading to the second and third floors, which were all visible due to the grand atrium that exposed a huge barrel-vaulted ceiling. Nooks, cubbies, and wooden shelves filled the place. The bar was crowded, just as she’d hoped it would be. Honora glanced around, searching for any sign of her friends as she took a seat at the huge oak bar.

  Tommy, the bartender, nodded to her. “What can I get you?”

  “How about some new friends?” She arched her brow and twisted her lips into an angry pout.

  He poured her a shot of whiskey; she downed it in one gulp and wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

  “That’s easier said than done. I’m afraid to ask what happened. You guys always seemed like such a tight group.” Tommy was dressed in his trademark all black and his muscular biceps strained against a tight T-shirt. His head was shaved bald, setting off his brilliant blue eyes, which were currently filled with concern.

  “It’s complicated and it’s not pretty,” Honora said, purposefully being as vague as possible. The best way to keep a story straight was to keep it simple.

  Thunder rumbled, shaking the rafters. A lightning strike flashed from outside the windows. The door to the bar banged open, bringing with it a gust of wind and rain. Tommy stopped what he was doing, drawing Honora’s attention to the door where Slader, Jonas, and Harper stood. Honora’s stomach lurched. Harper’s pretty eyes were narrowed, her forehead creased in anger. Her hands were planted on her hips. She stood next to Jonas whose face was stern. His hard gaze ripped right through Honora. He totally avoided eye contact.

  The worse had to be Slader whose face was still as stone. A statuesque witch clung to his arm. Her long brown hair cascaded over her broad shoulders, accentuating a wasp-thin waist. She wore a big toothy grin that was getting under Honora’s skin. Who was this new witch? As the group approached, the occupied bar stools around her cleared. She wasn’t the only one sensing the hostile energy radiating off them.

  Slader stepped forward, unhooking his arm from the witch. “I hear you’ve been looking for a new club.”

  Honora spun her bar stool around so that she was fully facing them. Her legs and arms were crossed. “Maybe I have. What’s it to you?”

  He snorted. “Technically you’re still in a flying club. Don’t you think it would have been polite of you to break up with your first club before you went fishing for a new one?” He leaned toward her, his breath hot on her face.

  “No one has ever accused me of being polite.” She examined her fingernails. “What can I say? I was bored with you three and your lack of imagination. I decided I needed to trade up and start mingling with a higher class.” The words were acid on her tongue. She swallowed and tried to keep her expression hard.

  “You were nothing when we met you,” Harper snapped. “Stargazer City was swallowing you up and we helped you. We supported you when you had no one and this is how you repay us.”

  Honora shifted. “Nothing personal, sweetie. I’ve outgrown you.”

  Slader pulled a glittering crystal ball from his pocket. Suspended inside of the resin were four bottle caps. Years ago, on the night they decided to form their club, they toasted with bottles of home-brewed beer that Slader had made and he’d kept the caps as a memento of the occasion, sealing them forever in the glass. He tossed the ball up and down in his hand. Honora watched it rise and fall. The sphere was special to them. It was a symbol of everything they meant to each other.

  “No!” Honora blurted, forgetting herself. Her heart ached in her chest like it was being squeezed in a vice. “Do you really want to take it this far? Once you break it, we can’t go back.” Her throat tightened. It’s not real, she reminded herself. It’s just for show.

  Jonas jerked his head toward her. “We can’t go back after what you’ve done. We can’t just forgive and forget.” He jammed his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumping. He was acting more hurt than angry and it was killing her.

  Slader tossed the ball higher and higher. “You only have yourself to blame. We should have known you’d be a disappointment. You’re nothing but trouble, Mayhem through and through.” He raised his voice. “We already have a perfect replacement for you. Meet Lexy. She’s an upgrade. Best flyer I’ve flown with in ages.” His smile was devious.

  Lexy cocked her hip. “They don’t need you anymore.”

  Honora gritted her teeth. She’d really wanted to meet Lexy, but not like this. Slader was playing hardball with her, making it look very real, too real, if you asked her.

  “I seriously doubt that,” Honora said.

  Harper put a hand on Lexy’s shoulder. “As I see it. Your new club can have you. Good riddance to you, Honora Mayhem.”

  Slader snatched the crystal ball out of the air, muttered a spell, and threw it on the floor of the bar where is shattered in an explosion of magical energy, sending sparks flying.

  Honora gasped. The bar went completely silent. All eyes were on Honora. Her heart had practically stopped beating in her chest. She felt her face flush, but she had to be strong. She had to play this out. A smile curled up on her face. She turned and tossed a piece of gold on the bar to pay for her drink, not looking at Tommy, not looking at anyone. She held her head high and strode right out of the bar not saying a word.

  Honora leaned against the building, emotions bubbling up inside her. It was all an act. It wasn’t real, but then why did she feel so terrible? Were they angry with her for taking the case? Had she gone too far and pushed them away? She breathed deeply, trying to let her emotions go. If this was what it took to track down a murderer, so be it. She lifted off the ground and flew back to her apartment. Her head pounded. She needed to rest and get her bearings. Tomorrow she was going to join a new club.

  The next morning, Honora padded around her apartment with a huge mug of coffee in her hand, nursing her heavy heart. After a good night’s sleep, she was seeing the job more clearly, for that was exactly what joining Witches of a Feather was—a job. She had to put what happened at the bar last night out of her head. It was all an act and everything would go back to normal once she helped nail whoever killed Constance Danbury, and investigating Witches of a Feather was the next step in that plan.

  Honora took a long shower, letting the hot water beat on her tense muscles, but the feather nagged at her. Detective Corder needed to know she was contacting the group because once she did, she couldn’t be seen anywhere near him. She considered what to do and where to go. She couldn’t go to the police station in case the group had eyes there, but she had to tell the detective what she was doing.

  After getting dressed and ready, she headed out and flew the back alleys and streets for a while until she was sure no one was following her. Was she being a little paranoid? No, she reasoned. She was being thorough. Her focus had sharpe
ned since getting the feather. She flew to an apartment building, which was actually a group of stately townhomes divided into separate units in a quiet part of the city. She quickly flew around back and peered into the bedroom on the top floor. No way was she going to risk using the front door and being seen. Casting out her senses, she detected no wards or security devices. He was confident, that was for sure. Honora waved her wand and muttered a spell and the window latch unhooked from the inside.

  A smile bloomed across her face.

  Breaking and entering was fun, especially when doing it to the house of her new boss. She flew in through the window and dropped silently to the floor. The bedroom was dark and a huge lump took up most of the bed. A soft snoring sound filled the room. She hated having to wake him. Honora lifted off the ground and flew above the bed, settling down nicely on her back on top of the covers next to the sleeping form of Detective Andreas Corder. She admired the soft gray and dark blue decor. The bed was not too hard and not too soft.

  “Andreas,” she whispered. He stirred and she tried again. “Detective. Time to wake up, Detective.”

  He rolled over and his arm flopped around her. She froze. “Detective,” she said a little firmer. “It’s me, Honora. We need to talk.”

  One of his eyes opened and they stared at each other. Suddenly the detective jerked up in bed and pulled the covers to hide his bare chest. “Illuma!” he yelled and the bedside lamps lit up. “What the Hazel are you doing in my house? And in my bed? How did you get in here?”

  Honora leaned up and sat cross-legged on the bed. “I came in through the window. I used a lock-picking spell I know. It really wasn’t hard to break in here. You might want to set up some security wards. You are a cop.” She probably should feel guilty for invading his space, but she was doing him a major favor going undercover, so they were totally even.

  “I never needed any wards until now.” He jumped out of bed and grabbed a shirt.

  “Sorry. It’s just I had to talk to you and I didn’t know how else to contact you. I can’t go traipsing into the police department if I’m going undercover. So I came here. I made sure no one saw me.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “No. It’s my fault I should have set up protocols at the beginning of all of this, but it’s happening so fast. How are things going? I’m guessing you came here for a good reason.”

  “We broke up. My flying club and I had it out in a very public display. If Witches of a Feather had any question as to where my loyalties are, they will soon find out that my relationship with my old club is dead.”

  “That must have been hard. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  “I’m not. I’m more committed now than ever.” Honora told Corder about her encounter with the wizard who gave her the mysterious feather. “I intend to activate it today. I’m ready for whatever test they throw at me.”

  “You can’t tell anyone else about what you’re doing and don’t go near your friends again if you can help it.”

  “I’m still going to live my life. I have to keep up pretenses of a normal job and family life, right?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.

  “Right, you just shouldn’t tell them about the new club, not yet. Let’s see how things go today. If we get lucky and you get in and get us some information we can use to help find out who killed Constance, this whole thing can be wrapped up quickly. No one needs to know a thing.” His eyes were beginning to brighten.

  “How am I to contact you?”

  “There’s a shop where we can exchange messages. I’ll give you all the details. In fact, I think you know it. It’s called Curious Magic, Rare Artifacts.”

  Honora smiled and a sense of relief and nostalgia filled her. Curious Magic, Rare Artifacts belonged to an old friend of hers, January Carter. She knew the shop and its owner very well. She hadn’t been there in a long time, too long, and was glad she’d have a chance to return and catch up.

  9

  Honora flew to the roof of her apartment, the feather tucked inside of her jacket. She squinted, the sun’s rays blinding her. The rain had cleared out. She sat on the edge of the roof, letting her legs dangle over the side, and pulled the feather from her pocket. At first glance it looked like an ordinary feather, but on closer inspection Honora noticed the edge was fringed with gold. Interesting and rather pretty. She rubbed the silky feather against her palm. There was only one way to find out more about Witches of a Feather. Excitement with a pinch of fear flared in her chest. She placed the tip of her finger against the sharp quill and pressed hard until it drew blood.

  She winced as a drop of blood raced up the quill. The feather jerked from her hand, alive with magical energy, and turned from jet black to golden metal. It spun upward into the air in a whirling circle, shooting off gold sparks of light in a growing flurry of momentum. The metal feather multiplied in an explosion of feathers, blooming outward into the shape of a huge bird. Then claws and wiry feet appeared at the base of the feathers and suddenly a head formed with beady glowing red eyes and a sharp beak.

  Within seconds, Honora was staring at a golden metal hawk. Miraculously or magically, the golden bird was alive, hovering in the air in front of her. It snapped its metal beak at her. The bird was a magical marvel. There was a small white card clutched in one of its claws. She gingerly took the card and read the inscription.

  If birds of a feather flock together, then where do birds go when they are lost? There you will find your next clue if you choose to play our little game.

  Witches of a Feather.

  Honora’s heart raced. It was a scavenger hunt for clues. She couldn’t help but smile. Now that was something she could handle. Maybe this club wasn’t so dark and scary after all. She didn’t hesitate, but jumped to her feet and lifted up into the air, pondering the clue as she considered her route. Where would a lost bird go? Was it a play on words? Because it suggested that the normal state of birds was to flock together, so if a bird was lost then perhaps something was wrong with it. Birds never got lost unless injured. There was a state-of-the-art bird sanctuary in Stargazer City’s Central Park. That was a great place to start. She knew exactly where to go.

  Honora dove into the flying lanes and flew quickly across town to the lush green park that was nestled between the glass and steel buildings. Grand old oaks lined the streets, complementing a few acres of budding gardens, flowering trees, and walking paths engulfed in leafy foliage. There was a small lake in the center of the park, which was dotted with picnic areas and stone benches. But it was the feature on the south side of the park that Honora was looking for—a huge domed birdcage lifting above the treetops.

  The bird sanctuary had been established hundreds of years ago when the city exploded with buildings and hovercrafts. Birds weren’t used to having to navigate all the traffic in the sky and were getting injured. Since then magical barriers had been installed to keep them from flying into traffic. Unfortunately, there weren’t many bird sanctuaries in Everland, so a few industrious and altruistic witches got together and formed the center to take care of injured and sick birds. They also specialized in treating the larger raptor birds like hawks, owls, and falcons.

  Honora had been to the Feathered Friends Bird Sanctuary numerous times over the years, mostly to support their cause after she’d found Barnaby on her ledge with a broken wing one winter and nursed him back to health. The witches at the sanctuary had given her valuable advice and vet care when she needed it most. She dropped down in front of the main gate. The sanctuary offered daily viewings and shows to educate the public and raise money to keep the place operational.

  Honora scanned the area, still a little suspicious about the game. The park was quiet that time of day so it wasn’t hard to spot the witch and wizard staring at her from a park bench. They were sharply dressed in sleek black flying suits and appeared extremely
fit, looking like they’d been chiseled from stone. They both had short black hair and possessed a striking family resemblance. They didn’t hide the fact they were watching her. She turned back to the sanctuary and located the ticket station.

  Honora showed her membership card she’d received for supporting the cause, which got her free admission, and headed inside the building. There were small central office spaces, classrooms, and a lecture hall in the main building, not including the veterinarian facilities and animal care center. She headed for the care center and approached one of the vets she recognized. The witch was short with equally short curly brown hair. She had a round face and cheeks and the quick keen movements of a chipmunk.

  “Hey, Peggy. How’ve you been? I was hoping to observe some of the birds in the raptor center. If you don’t mind,” Honora said. If the golden bird was there, she assumed it would be were they kept the large predator birds.

  “Sure. We don’t have an official tour until later this afternoon, but you’re free to walk around the cages and look. On the outside, of course.” Peggy smiled widely. “How’s Barnaby? You aren’t looking for another familiar, are you?” Her kind eyes suddenly went wide with worry.

  “He’s fine. Great even. I’m doing some research, keeping up to speed on bird health and habitat.” Honora walked toward the gate that accessed the huge domed cage.

  “Sounds interesting. Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “Me, too.”

  The dome was divided up into smaller caged sections. Honora walked from cage to cage, admiring the birds and watching as witches and wizards cared for and fed the animals. The cages were nested together. There was plenty of room for the birds with the soaring dome, but Honora couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic, trapped behind the metal bars. Her palms began to sweat. She lifted off the ground as high as she could to get a better view of the area. She heard a metallic warbling sound, drawing her attention upward. The golden bird was perched on a tall tree branch. It shifted on its metal claws that creaked and groaned. The head rotated all the way around on its mechanical body. She couldn’t decide if it was cool or creepy.