A Witch's Magic

by N. E. Conneely

  “I hope it’s still here.” Rodriguez sighed. “Maybe their chemical storage room is shielded?”

  “Worth a try.” I really wanted the source to be on sight, not something that could travel from rescue to rescue. One day of wrangling magical cats and dogs was enough.

  Inside was both less and more disturbing now that we had removed the animals. Scorch marks on the walls, rusted metal doors, and muddy paw prints on the ceiling were more reminiscent of a horror film than an animal rescue. On the more positive side, the rabbit was the only casualty. The building damage was repairable.

  We rounded a corner in the dog kennel. Instead of a storage closet, I spotted a crack running up the wall. Fixable, but expensive. Hopefully, their insurance included a magical damage rider.

  “You’d think the supply room would be easier to find,” Rodriguez grumbled as we stared into the last kennel in the building.

  “We could try the feed room again. Maybe we missed a door or cabinet.” I was clutching at straws. A few months ago, I’d have figured out a crafty spell to find the cleaning supplies, but even with all the work I’d put into regaining my powers, I wasn’t what I’d been. And power sucking spells, no matter how crafty and useful, would leave me drained for the day. I was no use to anyone that way.

  I hadn’t always relied so heavily on powerhouse spells. Back when I’d first started Oaks Consulting, brains, not magical brawn, had been my style. Retro was in vogue these days, so it was time to return to my roots and embrace what had built my business—and my power—to begin with.

  Too bad I was all out of bright ideas.

  The door to the feed room hung unevenly, the hinges having taken the brunt of the damage this morning. Though the rest of the room hadn’t escape unscathed. I could picture what it had looked like most days, with tidily labeled barrels of food, stacks of bowls, and a grid on the wall showing what each dog got morning and night. A set of cubbies above a table made it easy to organize medication. Or it had, before the dogs had opened the door, raided the food, chewed through the bottles of a few tasty medications, and had too much fun. The feathers were a nice touch, but exactly what they’d come from was beyond me. Given the lack of blood, my guess was a pillow.

  The coating of magic hadn’t changed from what was in the rest of the building, but this was the last place the cleaning supplies could be in this kennel. But where? Other than a floor to ceiling poster about workplace policies and procedures and the mess left by dogs, there wasn’t much to look at.

  “Maybe they store everything in the office.”

  A metallic glint caught my eyes. There, blending in with the border of the poster, was a doorknob. “Or they’re too clever for their own good.”

  As soon as my fingers touched the metal, a buzz of magic flared against my skin. With the residue in the room, I hadn’t been able to separate the spell from everything else. Now that I was touching it, I could feel the pattern and flow of the spell. It had two parts, one that only allowed authorized people into the room, which would keep out most humans, elves, and fey, but not a witch with any skills. With hardly a moment’s thought, I twisted the edge of the spell to recognize Rodriguez and myself.

  The second spell, though, had been cast to ensure what was in the room stayed in the room. Either by design or accident, the spell didn’t differentiate between the magical and physical. It would work equally hard to keep a bucket from rolling out the door as it would to contain any magic within.

  If the cleaning supplies were anywhere, this was it. I twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

  Bright undulating magic flooded my vision. I threw an arm up as I frantically damped my sensitivity to magic, but that didn’t stop the spots in my eyes.

  “Michelle?”

  Lowering my arm, I looked at Rodriguez around the spots that were fading from my vision. “Other than being careless, I’m fine. I didn’t think it would be so bright.” Now that I could see the magic without going blind, I had quite a few thoughts.

  “I don’t perceive magic as well as you, and I can tell this isn’t normal cleaning magic.”

  That was true. For one, it was far too active, as if the spells hadn’t been finished, so they kept changing, trying to close the magic into a single spell.

  Once I could see past the mass of energy, it didn’t get better. One shelf, separated from the rest by mops and brooms with a red-lettered sign reading Magically Enhanced Cleaners, held four oversized buckets of cleaning solution. One had a pump arching out of it, with a single drop of glittery purple solution clinging to the nozzle.

  Even without probing the drop, I could feel and see the spells. It was the same magic that coated the kennel, only a hundred times more concentrated and twisting as it tried to find the missing part of its spell.

  “Well, this is new and horrifying.” I explained what I’d found to Rodriguez. “I can look at it more closely if you want, but this stuff is trouble in a bottle.”

  “I don’t want it at the office. Once I document it, you can take it and dispose of it.” Rodriguez took a slim camera out of his pocket and started taking pictures.

  The magic twisted around the bottles of cleaner, reaching toward Rodriguez and myself. While I was usually more than happy to disenchant things, this wasn’t worth the risk. “A local place, Regional Disposal Experts, accepts magical waste now. I’ll take these there.”

  “Can they handle this?”

  “I think so. They have a crusher and a setup for controlled burns. That should do.”

  “Great.” Rodriguez put the camera back in his pocket. “Help me get these to the car.”

  I set shields around the buckets before we touched them. What this mess would do if it interacted with my magic was a nightmare I didn’t want to consider.

  Half an hour later, we’d documented the cleaning solutions from both sets of kennels, and Rodriguez had the samples he needed. Now the buckets of nasty were in my trunk, carefully strapped into place. Short of a car accident, they weren’t going anywhere.

  Rodriguez shut the trunk of his car and dusted off his hands. “I’m glad you were here. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

  “This sure made my first day back an exciting one.” I kept my voice light, not wanting to get lost in memories that were still too fresh.

  “I do what I can.” He hesitated. “I, uh, better get back to the office. This report will take hours.”

  The tightness in my gut eased. “Same, but I’ll take these to the Regional Disposal first.”

  Rodriguez nodded awkwardly and headed to his car.

  I settled in the driver’s seat and took a deep breath before cranking the engine. He hadn’t mentioned the past, the day I’d risked my power and life, and lost both in their own way. Thanks to a crazy old witch and her curse, I had found a way back to my powers. But back didn’t mean the same.

  Following Rodriguez onto the road, I flipped on the radio and toggled the presets until a new song with a nice upbeat rhythm filled the car.

  All the demons were dead. I had a nice job with the police, and no one wanted to kill me. My powers were still growing. One day, I might be as powerful as I’d been before. Until then, I had enough magic to do my job, and that would have to be enough.

  Chapter Two

  Regional Disposal Experts, for all that their name made them sound local, hadn’t been around very long. The chain-link fence around the property still had the shine, and the grass hadn’t fully grown in on the sides of their entry. The facility itself wasn’t much to look at, with blocky containers and structures intended for a purpose that had nothing to do with artistry. As tidy as it was, the smell that lingered around every disposal site didn’t encourage lingering.

  None of that stopped the short man in coveralls and a baseball cap at the gate from smiling at me. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “Magical goods disposal. I have four containers of a magical cleaning solution for the incinerator.” That was one fire I di
dn’t want to see. Sure, the flames would eat through the magic, but until the energy ran out, it could be exciting.

  He pointed at a cinder block building with an overhang. “I’ll meet you over then and take care of it.”

  By the time he walked over, I had the car parked under the awning and the buckets of poorly magicked chemicals on the scale. A credit card swipe later, and the mess was no longer my responsibility. “You’ll want to be careful with those.”

  He picked up two of the buckets. “They’ll go in the burn room now.”

  “Great. Have a good day.” I shoved my wallet in my purse.

  Two buckets collided with a thud and sloshed. He muttered a curse.

  My eyes went to the scale, but it was too late. While trying to pick up all four buckets, he had pinched the pump, sending a stream of magical cleaning solution onto my pants.

  “Son of a—” In his haste to correct the problem, his fingers slipped off the handle.

  Oh, no. I wasn’t dealing this mess again today. “Nazid.”

  Without my wand, it took an extra shove of magic, but the spell caught the bucket and held it aloft until he could get a better grip on the handle.

  “Thank you, Ma’am.” He had the good sense, if rather belated in its arrival, to settle for picking up just two of the buckets at one time. “I best get these to the burn room.” He turned and pushed through a door labeled Employees Only. If he’d noticed the splash of solution on my leg, he hadn’t mentioned it.

  While I didn’t see any of the cleaning fluid on the floor, there was an easy way to check. I switched my vision, opened my eyes to a wash of magic covering everything. The floor doubled and then tripled. Snapping my eyes closed, I turned my attention inward.

  The strange magic in the cleaning solution had already attacked the shields that separated my magic from the rest of the world. It had gone through, in part by adjusting itself to match my shields and it part by eating through my shields. That probably had something to do with the enhanced cleaning spell on them.

  I had to get home before I became as problematic as those poor cats and dogs.

  After two tries, I blocked off the magical portion of my vision, and the world returned to normal. Well, except for the magic clawing through my shields. On my way to the car, I added two different shields between the core of my power and the twisted mess of spells attacking me. Those would have to hold.

  My hand shook as I slid the key into the ignition. If I couldn’t drive home safely, I’d have to call Rodriguez. The last thing I needed on my first day back at work was to be carted into a decontamination room. Besides, my parents were at the lodge. They could help.

  The twenty minutes it took to drive home stretched out endlessly. Every red light lasted for hours. Every speed limit was too fast and too slow all at the same time. When I finally turned the car onto a gravel road with a freshly painted wood sign for Landa’s Lodge, I let out a shaky breath. Almost there.

  My vision doubled for a moment, and I swore.

  The gravel road curved around a towering oak. The driveway spilled me into a parking lot in front of a log home that defied the word cabin. Along with apartments for permanent residents like myself, the lodge operated as a bed and breakfast, and lunch and dinner. Perfect for the cooking challenged like me.

  I let the car coast into the last spot on this side of the lot. With the car safely parked, there was only one more hurdle: navigating the sprawling building with my vision playing tricks on me. Abandoning my purse, I focused on the ground. First out of the car, then one step.

  Narzel, the trickster of legend, had a good laugh at my pitiful navigation of the stairs. Later, when swearing didn’t take so much effort, I’d think of an appropriate term for my frustration.

  The hallways blended together, but somehow I found my door. The nob turned under my hand, and if I’d been thinking better, I would’ve wondered why. But the magic had gotten through the barriers, and all I knew was safety lay behind that door.

  I stumbled through.

  “Michelle, you’re early.” The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  Were there six heads or nine? Blinking did nothing to sort out the confusion. Maybe twelve? But why would twelve people be in my apartment?

  “Are you okay?”

  No.

  “Michelle?”

  I hadn’t said that out loud? Odd. I’d meant to.

  “Get Dr. Stiles.”

  The heads pitched sideways as if they were standing on a wall. What a pickle. Closing my eyes dealt with that terrifying image nicely. I could almost hear Narzel laughing.

  My head throbbed, and the light filtering through my eyelids seemed rather brighter than usual. Neither of which were good signs, considering my last coherent memory was of my normal vision doubling as I parked at the lodge.

  Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened my eyes. In a rather pleasant turn of events, I was looking at my bedroom ceiling. Which explained why I was comfortable, other than the dwarves hosting a lively dance in my head. As an added bonus, it was a singular ceiling above me.

  Which left one question. Who’d helped me? Because getting into bed hadn’t been in my skill set last I remembered.

  “How’s the head?” A light but purposeful voice came from my left.

  Moving was a risk, but I wanted to know who was in the room. Luckily, the dwarven party didn’t notice the motion. Unfortunately, they continued their dancing.

  The tidy woman with deep creases bracketing her mouth and eyes that seemed to see through my skin sat primly in a chair next to the bed. “I’m sure it hurts.”

  “Dr. Stiles, it is good to see you.”

  She snorted. “You didn’t seem nearly so excited when confirming our appointment yesterday.”

  Having a doctor, even one I liked, examine me for what felt like the thousandth time since my injury hadn’t sounded fun. But yesterday, my magic hadn’t been contaminated with that cleaning goop and all of its problems. “The situation changed.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  If my head hadn’t hurt so badly, I would’ve rolled my eyes. “So, what’s the prognosis, doc?”

  Dr. Stiles leaned over and mercilessly shined a penlight in my eyes. “You’ll make it. Nancy and I decontaminated your magic, nasty bit of spellwork that, and put you to bed.”

  I groaned. Of course, Mom had been here. “Who else knows?”

  “Your dad, myself, and Susanna. I suppose since Susanna knows, Ethel does too.” She settled into her chair and smiled. “Ethel won’t be pleased that we had to drain most of your power to fix you, but you’ll be healthy enough for the convention.”

  “You did what? You know my magic hasn’t been regenerating like it used to. It’ll be days before I’m back to full strength. Ethel was clear—I have to be able to do magic at the convention.” Reaching for my magic had the dwarven dance team doubling their tempo, but I had to check. Sure enough, only a handful of magic remained.

  A cool finger rested against my temple. “While I’d wanted to leave the headache to remind you to be more careful, it hardly serves when you’re panicked over the convention.”

  The dwarves vanished, for which I’d have been more grateful if I didn’t have to explain to Ethel why I wasn’t at full power. “I didn’t do this to myself. A careless worker at Regional Disposal splashed me with a poorly spelled cleaning solution I was dropping off for disposal.”

  “That will teach me not to assume.” Dr. Stiles sighed. “This could be a good thing. You’ve had trouble with magic regeneration, and draining yourself was a treatment we talked about.”

  Of all the ways my magic wasn’t what it had been before, the slower magic regeneration was the most frustrating, and the one that had kept me from returning to work for so long. “But not right before the convention.”

  “It couldn’t be helped.” She leaned forward. “I had many conversations with Ethel while you were recovering. As premier, she needs you to be at your best.
As her heir, you need to be at your best. That said, she’s far from heartless, and she’s practical. The work you do with the police helps witches and will help you when you’re premier and dealing with the politics that come along with the position. Being short on power isn’t ideal, but you are a capable and well-liked witch.”

  “Well-liked might be going too far.” Not that everyone hated me, but witches could be an insular group, and my upbringing hadn’t been normal. After I had spent my childhood clanless, some witches didn’t approve of me. Being a member of both my mother’s clan, the Wapiti, and my father’s, the Docga, only made those set against me less happy. According to their rules, it was one clan or none. I’d never been good at living by outdated rules made by change-adversed witches stuck in days of yore.

  Basically, Ethel believed in me. Having spearheaded the spell that rid the world of demons, even when it had damaged my magical abilities nearly beyond repair, had only strengthened her belief. But the traditionalists didn’t like much about me, be it my age, personal history, or newly regained magical abilities. Even having made my mom be an interim premier to smooth the transition between Ethel and myself hadn’t won any points from that faction.

  After a quick knock, the door swung open. Susanna poked her head into the room, a phone in one hand. As usual, her silver hair was smoothed back into a perfect bun, and her suit was a soft blue, likely an attempt at harmonizing with the vivid shades Ethel loved to wear. “The premier would like an update.”

  I sighed. It didn’t do any good to remind myself that I’d signed up for this. Susanna had been hovering around for days and would continue to do so through the convention. I’d been informed Susanna knew my schedule and would ensure I made it to every event. Plus, she’d smooth over any problems. If I was lucky, I could manage three days without needing that service. Not that luck and I had ever been on the best of terms.

  “She can speak to the premier for a moment.” Dr. Stiles didn’t move from her chair.