by J. S. Malcom
I shake my head, confused. “What’s that about?”
Nora shrugs. “Right, that one’s a little obscure. You don’t hear it much anymore, but it was once believed that if you scattered seeds we’d have to stop and count them. I guess people back then thought we were all OCD or something.”
“Safe to assume you guys can’t change into bats?”
Nora laughs. “Right, that one too. Besides, who’d want to turn into a bat? Have you ever seen a bat’s face?”
Again, I find myself laughing. Not exactly what I expected from hanging out with a vampire. Not that I ever expected to find myself hanging out with a vampire. The thing is, I can’t help but like Nora. At the same time, I keep experiencing a mild buzzing feeling. I’ve managed to suppress it all night, but it’s there all the same, a faint agitation reminding me that we’re supposed to be enemies. Like a little voice saying, Don’t forget to kill her.
I try not to think about it, but I’ve taken out more than a few vampires in the past. Which has always been pretty grim, considering they don’t just get shoved through the veil. Vampire magic may not originate here, but those who’ve been turned did. So, striking them with veil witch magic separates the natural from the supernatural. The result being instant decomposition to either dust or a pile of bones, depending on when the vampire was turned. I suppose if you caught one soon enough you’d end up with a rotting corpse. Thankfully, I haven’t had that experience.
I remind myself that those other vampire encounters were different, each time involving truly nasty characters. It had been a matter of survival. Maybe I’m just rationalizing, but I also felt sure that those I’d faced off against were killers. I’d just felt it.
Nora snaps me out. “What’s up? You sort of checked out there for a minute.”
I can’t quite bring myself to tell her. Instead, I keep it to, “It’s strange, the two of us sitting here like this. Me being a veil witch and all.”
Nora thinks about that for a moment, like she almost forgot. “Oh, right. Pretty much your primary objective is to remove vermin like me.”
I wasn’t going to quite phrase it that way, but still. “Something like that.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that can wait. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.” Nora stretches and yawns. I can’t help but notice that, even if they’re retracted, she still has noticeably pointy canines. She looks around and says, “I don’t imagine you have any rooms without windows.”
My eyes flick back and forth, and then I shake my head. “Nothing like that.”
Nora looks disappointed. “Not even the bathroom?”
“Sorry.” I’m not really sorry, since I can’t imagine going an entire day without using my bathroom.
Nora nods, as if resigned to her fate. “I guess it will have to be the closet. I hate closets. They smell funny and there’s always spiders.”
“I guess we could vacuum it,” I say.
“That’d be great. And maybe a blanket and pillow too? I mean, if it’s not a problem.”
She yawns again and gets up from the sofa. I guess what goes for humans, goes for humans and vampires too, since her yawn makes me yawn. Then I get up off the loveseat. It’s time to get the vampire ready for bed.
CHAPTER 9
I don't think I've ever showed up for work at Grimoire on time. Technically, my shift starts at ten (yes, I know, such a rigorous schedule), but last night left me beat. By the time I get my act together and stride through the door, it’s pushing eleven. Hoping Maggie’s not too mad, I say, “Good morning, Mags. Sorry I'm late.”
I always say that, so it’s not like I expect that alone to trigger a reaction. If anything, Maggie would probably notice if I didn’t apologize when I showed up.
As usual, she’s reading a book. And, as usual, she barely looks up. “No worries, sweetie. I made coffee cake if you’re interested. Tea’s out back too. Hope you’re okay with Earl Grey. I ran out of English Breakfast.”
Seriously, coffee cake? Damn, I can’t remember the last time I had coffee cake. I try to keep from licking my lips as I think about sweet buttery cinnamon and brown sugar crumble. I guess I’ll just have to deal with the inconvenience of washing it down with Earl Grey.
I snag a slice of coffee cake, fill a mug of tea, and pop back out front. I settle onto one of barstools we keep behind the counter. And there we are, two witches managing the register in an empty magical bookstore.
Maggie looks up from her reading. “Just so you know, I added new wards both inside and outside.”
I look at her, my cheeks bulging with coffee cake. Like everything Maggie bakes, it’s incredibly good. I nod, making the connection. Of course she means the speculomancy thing. That couldn’t possibly have been a coincidence.
“Good idea,” I say. In truth, I suspect our rogue veil witch has moved on from that magical method. It’s just too imprecise to be anything more than some sort of weird calling card.
Maggie takes a sip of her tea, looking me up and down. “Isn’t it a little cold for shorts?”
I swallow another bite of coffee cake. “I was thinking about going for a run.”
Maggie’s brow furrows. “When did you start running?”
A fair question, given that I’ve never mentioned running before. Because I’ve never been running before. Not if I wasn’t being chased. I’m wearing shorts because a vampire is sleeping in my closet. I found them in my lowest bathroom drawer. How they got there, I have no idea. Thankfully, I left a semi-clean sweatshirt on my couch, where I also slept, since sleeping in the bedroom just seemed weird
“As it turns out, I didn't,” I say. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Maggie chuckles. “Don't I know it. I joined a gym three years ago and I've probably been three times.” She sighs and adds, “I really should cancel that membership.”
For the life of me, I can't imagine Maggie hitting the gym. Besides, given the number of men in her life, I just figured she was on the frequent sex fitness plan.
For a few moments, we sit in silence while Maggie sips her tea and I scarf down my coffee cake. When I look at Maggie again, I see that her expression has shifted to one of concern.
She speaks softly. “How's your sister doing?”
Of course she knows about what happened. Word of someone having their powers bound must travel like wildfire. Losing her magic is every witch's greatest fear. “She's okay,” I say. “Autumn is strong. She'll get through this. We'll get through this.”
Maggie touches the back of my hand. “I feel just terrible about it. I'm so sorry.”
For a moment, I think she means it in a general sense, but then I look into her eyes again. “What? No! Maggie, it's not your fault!”
She frowns. “Well, it is partly, isn't it? I should have kept my mouth shut at that stupid coven meeting. But no. I fell right into it, didn’t I? Sarah Wellingsford asked me what I thought and I had to just go and say that speculomancy was associated with veil witches. I should have just lied. Besides, who knows, really? No one uses that kind of magic anymore. Why would they?”
Exactly, why would they? To let you know you’re being watched. To throw you off your game. To rattle you, to scare you, to let you know you aren’t unique in your powers anymore. To name a few reasons, but which one is it? And for what purpose in the long run? What game are we playing and just how many players are there?
But none of that matters now, as Maggie’s face turns red with emotion and her eyes glisten with regret, her words reminding me again that I have some very good friends in the witch community.
“Sarah Wellingsford set you up,” I say. “She used you.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. Not yet, but I’m working on it.” I bring my eyes to hers again. “What do you know about her?”
Maggie thinks for a moment as she sips her tea. “Well, she has a long history as a powerful witch. She’s very much part of the community but, at the same time, tends to keep her distance. I gues
s she’s private, overall. That’s not unusual in and of itself.”
Something in Maggie’s tone makes me perch forward. “But?”
“Well, my understanding is that there was a time when she remained less reclusive. Before her husband died, but that was a long time ago.”
“How long?”
Maggie glances at the ceiling. “Thirty years, give or take? They say his death hit her hard, that she grieved for a long time. It was nearly a decade before she surfaced.”
A decade? Sure, loss is a bitch, but humans move on a different timeline. Even for a witch, a decade seems long. The back of my neck tingles and there’s no way I’m ignoring it.
“What do you know about her husband?”
“Not very much. Only that he was also reputed to be a powerful witch. Like Sarah, from a pure blood family. And of course that his death was mysterious.”
Well, look at that. My neck tingling just increased a little more. “Mysterious how?”
“Well, violent, for one thing. They found him in the woods a few miles from the Wellingsford’s estate. They say he was nearly torn apart.”
I cock an eyebrow at that one. “Werewolves?”
Maggie shrugs. “It was never determined. Some said werewolves, others vampires. And there were those who thought it might be the work of demons, carried out at Sarah’s command. That possibly she’d been dabbling in dark magic. I was young at the time, but my mother said that was just gossip. Apparently, there’d been talk of some strain in the Wellingsford’s marriage. Which, of course, led to tongues wagging. That sort of thing is always going to happen when there’s a violent, unsolved death.”
“So, they never found out,” I say.
Maggie sips her tea. “They never did.”
Sounds about right, for some reason. From what I’ve seen of Sarah, I bet she did it with her bare hands. The guy probably left the seat up or something. My blood starts to boil as Sarah Wellingsford’s face looms inside my mind. I take a deep silent breath, willing myself to calm down. It’s not going to do me or Maggie any good if I get myself worked up. For all I know, I might inadvertently summon my magic and blow a hole in the side of Maggie’s bookstore.
At least burrowing into Sarah Wellingsford’s shady past has one good effect. It appears that Maggie has, at least for the moment, stopped blaming herself. Before she shifts back into that mode, I decide to go in a different direction.
“Before I forget, do we have anything out back about creating a battery?”
Maggie knows what I mean, of course. It takes her less than three seconds. “Five books, I believe. Oh, wait. Make that four. I have two copies of P.J. Duckworth’s ‘Complete Guide to Transference for Beginners.’ Have you read that yet?”
Um, no. But I’ve been meaning to get to it? I just shake my head.
“That’s probably a great place to start. What were you planning to use as your talisman?”
I reach into my pocket and withdraw a smooth blue oblong stone. I hold it out in my palm for Maggie to see.
“Isn’t that lovely,” she says. “I’m sure it will hold magic nicely. It has an almost unearthly luster, doesn’t it? Wherever did you get it?”
“I found it in the forest.”
Not an outright lie, but Maggie guessed right about the unearthly luster. I picked up the stone one morning while out walking with Esras. This was after the fall of the Seelie regime, when there had finally been time for leisurely strolls. Before that, we would have been running or hiding.
I start to get off my stool but Maggie stops me. “I know exactly where they are,” she says. “You just stay right there and enjoy your breakfast.”
I should argue with that, but Maggie really will find the books more quickly. The indexing system at Grimoire is fairly insane, with books being arranged according to magical association. So, books about abjuration magic are grouped with those about thaumaturgy, since the magical principles regarding protection and healing hold much in common. Same goes for blood magic and elemental magic, despite one often being associated with dark arts and the other carrying almost entirely positive connotations. The connection there being that both involve harnessing natural energy sources. I’ve worked at Grimoire for two months and I’m still getting it down.
I’m just about done with my coffee cake when Maggie returns with the books. “These should do the trick,” she says. Have you ever attempted transference before?”
“Is it difficult?” To judge by Maggie’s expression, I get the feeling it might be.
She shrugs. “Like any spell, it can involve a bit of learning. In some ways, it’s similar to creating charms or wards, since both involve imbuing an object with magic. But that’s not quite the same as getting an object to store magic. Come to think of it, I’ve never tried. I’ll be interested to see how it goes.”
Maggie’s eyes meet mine, and I can tell she knows what I’m up to. Trying to give Autumn access to some of my magic. I have no idea if it can work against a binding, but I figure it’s worth a try.
Maggie checks her phone to read a text. Since I’m here, she must have a date. That’s the way it usually goes. Still, she says, “Would you like me to make more tea? It’s such a chilly day.”
I hold up my mostly still full mug. “Nope. I’m good. I can always make more.”
Maggie gestures to the books. “Do you need any help with those? They can make for some pretty dense reading, especially with—”
“Maggie, go,” I say. “Tom’s probably waiting for you.” I’m just taking a stab at it, since last time she was having lunch with Tom. Honestly, I think having lunch is just a euphemism for getting in a workout. There’s no way Maggie is hungry after chowing down with me every morning. At least not for food.
Maggie blushes a little. “Actually, today I’m meeting with Adam. He’s such a sweetie. Have you met him?”
“Um, maybe?” The fact is, it’s hard to keep track. Maggie must have some sort of magical pheromone for attracting men her age, as well as some quite a bit younger.
Maggie winks and laughs. “Oh, if you met Adam, you’d remember. Believe me.”
I have to laugh too, and I do believe her. Maggie may be pushing sixty, but she doesn’t mess around when it comes to men. Or maybe it’s just that she has a way of keeping them in really good shape.
“Don’t worry. I’ll hold down the fort,” I say. “Go on out there and show them what you’re made of.”
Maybe not the best choice of phrasing, since Maggie’s face turns red. But that doesn’t keep her from putting her coat on and bustling out the door. Maggie Greene: elemental witch, bibliophile, baker extraordinaire and sex goddess. I have no doubt that her Book of Shadows will make for truly educational reading for whoever is lucky enough to get her hands on it someday.
CHAPTER 10
With Maggie gone, I have hours to kill in a bookstore likely to remain empty for most of the day. Not that I’m complaining. A warm cozy spot to sip tea, munch on coffee cake (yes, I go for round two on that deal) and pore over books of magic seems like a little slice of heaven. Especially after last night’s slice of hell.
Just to be sure, I glance at the window before taking the blue Faerie stone back out of my pocket. Seeing that the coast is clear, I open one of the books Maggie brought to me. I’m about to go for it when the door opens. An old guy walks in talking on his phone. After meeting Grayson at Grimoire, magically cloaked to look like a nursing home resident, naturally my guard goes up.
“What the heck is a karmic contract?” the guys says into his phone. “Didn’t you already read that one?” A beat and then he sighs. “Oh, that was the one about soul connections. Not sure how I could mix those up. Okay, I’ll look.”
Yeah, definitely not a fae mage masked to look human. More like disgruntled husband sent shopping. I slip the stone back into my pocket and close the book. There’s no point anyway right now.
The old guy listens for a few more seconds. “Seriously? What do we need sage for?”
Another beat and then, “What the hell is a hell sky?”
I have to look up at that one.
“Is that what they’re calling it now? Okay, sure, I heard about the birds. What was it this time? Come on, Phyllis, you really have to stop paying attention to all of this non—”
Apparently, Phyllis isn’t having it since the guy falls silent as he listens. Only this time, I’m listening too while pulling the news up on my phone.
“What, trees this time? Wasn’t it trees the first time? Okay, so sue me. That was crops. Dead crops, dead birds, dead trees. Probably some sort of blight.”
Okay, there it is, I found it. It’s not on any of the big news carriers, but one of the local news websites reports that, last night, people observed the sky turning bright red. Apparently, come morning, all of the trees in that part of town were found twisted and blackened.
“What do you mean, a demon? Oh, come on!”
I keep scrolling and find a link to a related story. Neighbors report seeing unidentified creature. A chill ripples down my spine. Yep, that has to be it. I click on the link to read that, last night, there were several reports to the police department from people claiming to see some sort of creature running through the streets. Some reported seeing a man, while others described it as a large animal, possibly a bull. Apparently all claimed it had horns. Damn, sounds familiar.
I can't help but wonder if it might have been the same demon I faced off against. But how could people see it? I thought demons could only be seen by other supernatural creatures, and not many at that. Has something shifted with the veil, allowing through demons with more power to manifest in this realm physically? I just don’t know, but this isn't good.
I look up as the old guy approaches the counter.
“Do you have a book about something called a comic contract?”
Seriously, he forgot already? “Karmic Contracts,” I say. “It's over there in the Reincarnation section.” I only know this because it's one of the new ones that's been selling well. A bit of a rage in woo-woo circles.
