From Rags to Witches

by Michelle Rowen

  I had been coming to terms that we were suddenly in Paris.

  But I had no idea I’d just entered Heaven itself.

  Alicia watched my reaction as my gaze swept across the most beautiful store I’d ever step foot inside.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is,” I said honestly. “It really is.”

  She led me toward the rack of shoes, running her hand over a line of gorgeous mules that rivaled any designer brand I’ve ever seen in person. “Every girl’s dream.”

  “I’m not quite the shopaholic that I used to be,” I admitted. “But I do still enjoy a nice shoe.”

  “I want you to pick out your favorite pair,” Alicia said. “It’s my gift to you for sharing this momentous day with me.”

  I knew I had to keep my eyes on the prize. I wasn’t here to shop. I was here to get to the bottom of Alicia Bates and her new boyfriend and help Thierry crack this case in record time.

  But I couldn’t turn down the offer of a free pair of shoes.

  My gaze moved over each of the beauties until I landed on the perfect pair. Staggeringly high, shockingly pink, and with a few sparkling crystals on the toe. Which sounded tacky as hell but somehow looked as elegant as a little black dress.

  “Those are the winners?” she asked, smiling.

  “They might not have them in my size.”

  “Check to see,” she suggested.

  I lifted them off the rack and glanced at the size, surprised that they were exactly my size. I glanced at Alicia. “Is that magic or coincidence?”

  She smiled knowingly. “What do you think?”

  That was a very good question.

  I slipped off my sneakers and slid my feet into my new best friends, feeling like Cinderella and her glass slippers.

  “How are these so comfortable?” I asked with amazement as I paced back and forth in a short line. My feet felt like they were nestled in cool, fluffy pillows. I could literally run a marathon in these beauties. “It must be magic.”

  Alicia shrugged. “Damon’s secret.”

  Yes, that was exactly what I wanted to know: Damon’s secret.

  “Do you love them?” she asked.

  “Almost as much as I love Thierry,” I replied with a grin. “Almost.”

  She laughed. “They’re yours.”

  I shook my head. I’d caught a glimpse of the price tag when looking for the size. “You don’t have to. They’re so expensive.”

  “I want to. Please let me buy these shoes for you, Sarah.”

  “Thank you, that’s so generous of you,” I said, my gratitude genuine. It wasn’t every day a practical stranger wanted to buy me an incredible gift like this.

  But I wasn’t that naïve. I wondered what she might want in return.

  Still, I was totally taking the shoes. In fact, since they were so ridiculously comfortable, I might never take them off.

  True to her word, Alicia flagged down a salesperson and gave them her credit card. I tucked my scuffed sneakers into my handbag for safekeeping.

  I gazed down at my sparkling pink beauties, which looked just a little out of place beneath the hem of my jeans, but not enough to take them off. Possibly, ever.

  “They look beautiful on you,” a deep voice that held a light French accent said. “Not everyone can pull off such a bold look.”

  I glanced up to see that a man had approached, his hand pressed to Alicia’s back. He was tall, handsome, and well-dressed in a tailored black suit, white shirt, and gray tie. A black eye patch matched the color of his hair, which was long and tied at the nape of his neck. At first glance, he looked like a wealthy pirate. I half-expected to see a diamond-studded parrot nearby.

  “Thank you,” I said, knowing without a doubt that this was the mysterious cobbler in question.

  “Is this a friend of yours?” he asked Alicia.

  “Yes.” She was beaming, her eyes as bright as her smile. “This is Sarah. Sarah, this is Damon.”

  “A pleasure,” said Damon.

  “Ditto,” I agreed. “Your store is amazing. I’ve been in a lot of stores in my life, but this one blows them all away.”

  “That is very kind of you to say. I must say, I’m surprised you brought a friend with you today, Alicia.”

  “I had hoped you wouldn’t mind,” Alicia replied. “Sarah is Thierry de Bennicoeur’s wife.”

  “Thierry de Bennicoeur,” Damon repeated, and I’d only heard Thierry’s name pronounced so perfectly when Thierry said it himself. “That is a name I haven’t heard for a very long time.”

  “He’s working with the Ring again,” she told him. “As a consultant.”

  “Yes, I’d heard that through the grapevine.” Damon nodded. “It’s a fitting role for him. I remember Thierry being very much the problem solver.”

  Slight plot twist, front and center. “You know Thierry?” I asked, stating what clearly was the obvious.

  “I did. A long time ago.”

  “You were friends?”

  “I…wouldn’t say that.” Damon smiled. “Come, Sarah, let me give you the tour of the inner workings of my little shop.”

  I held onto my smile, but my gut instinct was telling me to walk right out of Rags to Riches right now in my shiny new shoes and find the nearest payphone so I could call Thierry.

  But tucking tail and scramming didn’t exactly solve any cases, did they? And the more cases I helped solve, the sooner the Ring might willingly loosen their ties on my husband.

  It was a theory.

  “Sounds great,” I agreed as coolly as I could.

  The wealthy pirate and Miss Moulin Rouge led me off the main floor of the populated shop, through an ornate glass door, to the workshop. Which actually matched the image in my mind more than I’d expected. There were a dozen workstations with staff busily sewing and hammering and stitching up patterns, making shoes and bags and accessories to replenish the stock out front.

  It smelled like leather and wood, but luckily not so much of sweat and cheap champagne. Damon acted like a perfect tour guide, explaining how the shop had been around for nearly a century when he’d opened it up with a partner, who’d died thirty years ago.

  So pirate-boy was more than a hundred years old but looked thirty. Add in the magic, and it seemed to me that there was no doubt that this was a warlock I was dealing with. One who made shoes touched with a trace of magic.

  Which explained why it felt like I was currently walking on clouds. Happy, fluffy, massage clouds.

  So far, I think I liked this kind of magic—apart from the jarring and unexpected trip here, of course. It was much better than being cursed, that was for sure.

  The tour ended, and nothing strange had happened. I’d really expected something strange to happen. But maybe I was just paranoid. Maybe this was just an affair—an unhappily married vampire and a magic-shoe-making warlock. A tale as old as time. Practically a Disney movie, really.

  We returned to the main store, and I couldn’t help feeling on edge. I guess you could say I was waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sarah.” Damon nodded. “Please, give my regards to Thierry.”

  “Sure thing,” I managed.

  “And now you…” Damon turned to Alicia. “May we have a private moment before you return to America?”

  “I’d like that,” she said enthusiastically. “Sarah, I’ll be back soon. Well, maybe not too soon.”

  I didn’t need a translator. They were going to be making a French Connection, and I had to linger around here until they were done.

  “Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll just be…browsing. And trying not to max out my credit card.”

  “I’m sure Thierry can afford whatever you like,” Damon said.

  “I’m sure he can,” I replied. “But I don’t expect him to. I have my own money.”

  “How…progressive.” He flicked his gaze over me, head to foot, and for the first time, I swear I saw someth
ing less than cordial there. “You are different from what I’d expect from Thierry.”

  “Well, you know what they say about expectations,” I replied.

  “What is that?”

  “They always lead to disappointment.”

  Damon’s lips thinned as he coolly studied me for another moment before he and Alicia disappeared through the glass door.

  I yanked my phone from my bag again, staring with annoyance at the dead screen. The magical interference better not mean I needed a new phone. These things weren’t cheap, and I hadn’t bought the extended coverage.

  “Well, girls, it seems we have a few minutes to kill.” I glanced down at my new shoes, “Let’s get some info on Mr. Rags to Riches, shall we?”

  My plan was this: I’d talk to some of the salespeople, all calm and nonchalant, and I’d ask them about their boss, feeling around for whether they realized they were working for an immortal warlock. Having worked retail in my early twenties, I knew there had to be someone here, a disgruntled employee who wanted to dish about their creepy-but-hot boss.

  Honestly? I might have let it go at face value if he hadn’t given me that cold look of distaste. My being progressive enough to want to pay for my own purchases. Shocking, I know. And clearly, he didn’t like Thierry.

  Not that this was particularly a red flag. I’d met many people from Thierry’s extensive past, and it seemed to be more the norm than the exception that he’d collected more enemies than friends over the years.

  Not allowing myself to be distracted by the store full of incredible fashion and accessories, I scanned the sales staff, searching for someone who looked miserable and potentially chatty. Bonus points, of course, if they spoke perfect English.

  One face after another, and I saw nothing useful other than a bunch of people helping other customers.

  But then something caught my eye.

  A very short man with a thick beard and thick glasses was staring at me from across the store. Staring…and waving his arms.

  I turned and glanced behind me, but there was no one there.

  I faced him and put my hand on my chest. “Me?” I mouthed to him.

  He nodded and gestured toward me to follow him.

  All this was odd enough to start with. But one thing made it even odder.

  This strange bearded man wasn’t exactly solid. I could see right through him to the shoe rack behind him.

  He was a ghost. A ghost who seemed desperate to talk to me.

  5

  The ghost led me to a wooden door in the handbag section.

  “Listen, I—” I began.

  He pressed his finger to his lips. “Follow me.”

  And then he walked straight through the door.

  I stared at it for a moment, blinking a few times as I came to terms with this latest curveball. And then sighed. “Oh, why the hell not?”

  I tried the door to find that it was unlocked. The ghost waited for me on the other side, and I gave him a guarded look. “Who are you?” I asked tensely.

  “My name is Grimm.” He spread his hands. “Do you know how long it’s been since someone has been able to see me?”

  “No idea,” I replied tightly.

  “A damn long time!” he exclaimed, then cleared his throat. “Such a pleasure, young vampire.”

  “Uh, sure,” I said. “Great to meet you. Please call me Sarah.”

  Grimm nodded. “I knew the moment you entered the store that you had the sight, Sarah. There are so few who can see the spirit world.”

  “Lucky me.” I crossed my arms. “So, what do you want?”

  “The validation that I still exist on some level, for starters. So thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome. What else?”

  “Your help in vanquishing the evil that destroyed my life,” he said fiercely, his fists clenched at his sides. “The evil that still walks today and is currently having sex with his vampire lover only thirty feet from where we stand.”

  I grimaced at the mental image. “Wild guess, but you’re talking about Damon?”

  “Yes,” he said darkly. “I was his partner, and he used me for my gift of shoemaking to become renowned throughout Europe. When he’d gathered enough of my patterns that he could repeat indefinitely and stole my ability to infuse leather with magic to create the most comfortable and fashionable shoes in the entire world, he murdered me, leaving me to haunt the halls of this cursed building.”

  Oh, God. Not the C-word.

  “That sounds horrible.” I regarded him with shock. “You say you were his partner…are you a warlock too?”

  “No, I’m an elf,” Grimm said, raising his chin. “A proud cobbler elf, the last in my family line.”

  I blinked. To my knowledge, I’d never met an elf before. I seriously needed a paranormal checklist to keep track of these things.

  “What is Damon’s master plan?” I asked. “I promise I can help stop him if I know what we’re dealing with here.”

  “He’s dangerous,” Grimm told me…well, grimly. “And he’s desperate. He tried a spell a year ago to increase his power, but the spell went far beyond his magical limitations. It backfired and has caused him to be imprisoned in this very shop, unable to ever leave. Should he walk out the door, he would perish.”

  “Yikes.” I cringed. “That sounds like a hell of a spell.”

  “My spirit is tied to his continuing existence. As long as he lives, I will not be able to find peace.” Grimm nodded gravely, his face set with lines of determination. “You must murder him while he’s distracted by that vampire woman.”

  My eyes went wide. “Wait. I’m not murdering anybody.”

  “But he’s evil,” Grimm reasoned.

  “Fair enough. But, still, not murdering anyone. Cold-blooded murder isn’t really my style, contrary to a few false rumors there may still be about me.”

  Grimm cocked his head and stroked his beard. “They’re finished with their lovemaking.”

  I grimaced. “It’s kind of creepy that you can do that.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Come with me. It seems you must hear the truth for yourself, and perhaps you’ll change your mind. About the cold-blooded murder, that is.”

  “That’s very unlikely—”

  But Grimm had already started to walk away from me. Reluctantly now, I followed the ghost along a hallway until we stood just outside a slightly ajar door. I could hear Damon and Alicia speaking. I flattened myself against the wall and focused on their post-coital convo, which seemed to be about me.

  “You shouldn’t have brought her here,” Damon said curtly. “It’s too risky.”

  “Sarah is harmless. Compared to Thierry’s first wife, she’s a simple gazelle in a land of hungry lions.”

  I frowned at the imagery Miss Moulin Rouge presented. A gazelle, huh? Maybe a kickass gazelle with really cool shoes. But if she was saying I was a victim-in-waiting, then she was damn wrong.

  I moved a little closer so I could peer through the crack in the door, relieved that they were fully dressed. Damon drew the silver heart-locket from under Alicia’s blouse, holding it in the palm of his hand.

  “I am impressed that you passed my test,” he said. “The Baba Yaga’s contribution was, by far, the most powerful component of this particular piece of magic. Another powerful witch’s hair would have sufficed, but it’s quite incredible. It proves to me that you are worthy enough to help liberate me from this prison.”

  “And we’ll be together,” Alicia said eagerly. “In America.”

  “It is the land of the free, isn’t it? And free is what I want to be. Free from all the mistakes of the past, and ready to begin anew.”

  She nodded with enthusiasm. “Do you have the grimoire?”

  “I do,” he replied. “It cost me everything I have, including part of my soul, but it was worth it.”

  A grimoire. A witch’s spellbook.

  Damon pulled something from the pocket of his jacket. I expected to se
e a leatherbound book, but this wasn’t anything like that.

  Damon handed Alicia something that looked like a flash drive. She frowned at it. “So small,” she said.

  He nodded. “Yet so powerful. Now here is what I need you to do. Return to America with Thierry’s young wife. Continue to be friendly with her and, most importantly, with him. When he is in close proximity to you, insert this into a computer. The spell within the grimoire will be triggered instantly, giving me passage directly to you. I will take it from there.”

  Alicia took a deep breath and shakily let it out before she spoke again. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. We’re going to be together. Forever.” She touched his face. “I will mourn this body of yours, but I know it’s the only way.”

  “I forfeited this form when I got too greedy, when I reached too far into the darkness,” he said, shaking his head with annoyance. “There is a price to pay for magic. There always is. Thank you for finding me a powerful new identity. Even if he’s someone I utterly despise, Thierry is very strong and influential. And I know you’ll appreciate his body.”

  “Only knowing that you are the one residing within it,” Alicia said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss Damon’s lips.

  I think I’d stopped breathing about thirty seconds ago.

  To recap: the flash drive was a grimoire that held a powerful spell. That spell would yank Damon out of this shop where he’d been trapped for who-knew-how-long, but it would also destroy his current body. And then he was going to take over Thierry’s body, like slipping into a shiny, new pair of shoes that just so happened to be a powerful master vampire with direct ties with the Ring.

  I had a flashback to a time, only a couple months ago, when a ghost had stolen my husband’s body for a short but incredibly stressful time. I mean, Thierry had an amazing body, so I wasn’t overly surprised that everybody wanted it. But, still. This was ridiculous.

  I met Grimm’s gaze, and he nodded at me. Grimly.

  “See?” he said. “He’s evil.”

  Oh, I saw. And then I heard a squeaking sound, kind of like the hinges on an old door. And the next thing I felt was a hand grabbing my upper arm and pulling me inside the room.