Realms of Spells and Vampires: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 5

by J. S. Malcom

  The guy wanders off, finds the endcap display, and wanders back again, book in hand.

  “This it?” I nod and he adds, “Seriously, twenty dollars?”

  Poor Phyllis.

  “Yes, but it comes with free sage,” I say, holding up a packet of the stuff. This isn't true normally, but I'm trying to move things along. My ploy seems to work, since the guy digs out his wallet. I ring him up and he finally leaves.

  Now, back to my project, although I have to admit that the interruption was educational. Hell Sky? The thing has a name now?

  I flip open the transference magic book again and set my Faerie stone back out on the counter. An hour passes, and then another as I keep trying the spells. Then, finally, I remember something that might be interfering. In fact, when it finally dawns on me, it seems obvious. If I'm hiding part of myself, how can I transfer part of myself to the talisman. As weird as that seems, that's what I'm doing, right?

  Okay, it's time to lower the glamour, which I probably shouldn't do right now. Then again, I already had my customer for the day. I let my ears out and try the spell again. This time, my blue Faerie stone starts to tremble. Then it starts to glow, becoming enveloped in golden light, as tiny arcs of electricity shoot from my fingertips.

  My head snaps up as three women walk past the front window, probably heading to one of the nearby boutiques. Not that there's necessarily a typical Grimoire customer, but they look a little too well packaged. It turns out I'm wrong, since a moment later three affluent looking suburban mom types walk in as I scramble to glamour my elf ears.

  “Seriously, you've never been in here?” one of them says. “This place is a riot.”

  She's thin, tall and blonde alongside her two brunette friends.

  “Oh, wow, check this out,” a brunette says. She stands, hands on hips as she scans the signs marking the sections. “Angels and spirit guides, tarot and oracle, astrology, divination and numerology. You weren’t kidding!”

  “I know, it’s nuts,” the other brunette says. “Can you imagine the people who actually shop here? What a bunch of gullible dipshits.”

  The blonde snorts out a laugh. “Come here and check out these fliers. They're just ridiculous.”

  They cluster at the bulletin board and start tittering. So far, my presence hasn't been acknowledged, so I guess they just don't care if I hear things like, “What the hell is a psychic fair? Do you get to, like, ride a psychic?” or “Crystal and vibrational healing. I know which one I'm going for,” but then they cross the line.

  “Hey, check this one out. Some fool is advertising a supernatural cleaning service. Let me guess, she uses magic to lift stains from your carpet.” This comes from the blonde, obviously the ringleader. A brunette chimes in next. “Wait, maybe she shampoos your ghosts.” Apparently they find that hilarious, since it elicits another round of tittering, followed by Brunette Number Two saying, “God, too funny. What a load of crap.”

  Okay, that's it. I have things to do and these three must be late for their manicure. I clear my throat loud enough that they finally look my way. All three of them gasp and go wide-eyed. And, no, I'm not worried about them telling anyone later about what they saw. Who's going to believe some story about a pointy-eared girl shooting electricity from her fingertips toward a glowing blue stone? Especially one who, as she continues to stare back, levitates into the air. As they scramble out the door, I’m pretty sure they’ll soon know what it’s like to be called a gullible dipshit.

  I give a friendly wave as they dart past the window, and then lower myself back onto my stool. Thanks, Regina, for the inspiration. I can now say I’ve successfully flown. Well, okay, hovered, but it’s a start.

  ~~~

  Once I get my concentration back into gear, it takes almost a full hour of zapping away at my Faerie stone before it stops becoming wrapped in golden light. After that, my fingers start to burn. I double-check the magic book and, sure enough, that means you’ve created your talisman. Also, according to the book, you’ve most likely stored a significant magical boost, but it might not last long. An hour, tops, depending on how much you use. To transfer more, you need to repeat the procedure on a daily basis for at least a week. Damn, I guess I should have read through the chapter first. Still, an hour is better than nothing.

  I heave out a sigh and get to my feet, slipping the stone back into my pocket. I go to the window and stare out at the street. The sidewalks are empty and the sky clouding over like it might rain. When before I felt cozy and comforted, I begin to feel edgy. Out there another day is passing, which means we’re another day closer to Autumn’s trial. We’re down to four days, and am I any closer to having answers? Maybe a little, but not nearly enough. Tears suddenly prick at my eyes, a feeling of helplessness welling within me.

  And then there’s Bethany, isn’t there? The coven meeting was now two nights ago, which means she’s been gone… what? A week? More? How long until her image fades from that mirror? My feeling of helplessness continues to build, and with it my anger. Magic rises within me, bubbling its way to the surface. All I want to do is lash out. I want to blow apart bookshelves and smash out windows. I want to kill and destroy, when I can’t even find my enemy.

  I spin away from the window so no one can see me. I pull my hair back and yell, “Shit!” Then I start to pace back and forth across the floor. I could swear I actually hear the seconds ticking past, as together they build to swallow time.

  Four days… four days… four days…

  ~~~

  By the time Maggie returns, I’ve managed to compose myself again. The last thing she needs is me adding to her guilt by flipping out in front of her. She bustles in, her cheeks red from the cold. She peels off her jacket, as always offering a smile.

  “I hope I wasn’t too long,” she says.

  The fact is, she’s back sooner than normal. Usually, she comes back closer to closing time.

  “No worries,” I say. “Everything’s fine. And, hey, we made a sale.”

  Maggie hangs her coat on her hook. “Let me guess, Karmic Contract.”

  I have to laugh. “Bingo. How’d you guess?”

  “Well, it’s not hurting anyone,” Maggie says. “And there’s truth in there too. We really do have to balance the scales eventually.”

  I get up off my stool, gathering up the magic books I used earlier. I look at Maggie and raise an eyebrow. “Let me guess… Alchemy?”

  Maggie chuckles. “A good guess, and a logical one.”

  “But… no,” I say.

  “I’m afraid not, dear. Alchemy is transforming objects. Transference magic is—”

  “Weaponry magic?”

  “No.”

  “Earth magic?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Projection magic.”

  Maggie shrugs. “Close…”

  “Absorption magic?”

  Maggie reaches for the book. “It’s fine, dear. Why don’t I just—”

  “Chi magic!”

  Maggie raises her eyebrows. “Very good,” she says. “That’s it, precisely, because in order to shift your power to another vessel, you first have to reach into your core. See, you’re getting it!”

  Right, give me another ten years and I should be fine. All the same, as I take the books out back to the Special Collections room, I feel a little proud of myself. Maybe I shouldn’t—it took me like ten tries—but I felt pretty sure about that chi magic thing when I finally got there. I find that section and slide the books back into their places.

  I’m about to leave the room when my eyes drift to the shelf I’ve gone to most often lately. It’s almost involuntary now, checking that spot where Lauren Flannery’s Book of Shadows sits alongside the others. Part of me has kept meaning to take it home, while another part of me has remained hesitant. I guess because the connection was just too unnerving.

  I suddenly realize it’s gone. I do a double-take, and then walk closer just to be sure. I stare at the gaping spot where now one book l
eans to rest against another. I try telling myself I should feel relieved. That I should take it to mean that Lauren’s book—with its heartbreaking account of betrayal—no longer has a place in my life. Instead, an icy chill travels through me. Along with it comes a sense of foreboding.

  I go back out front, feeling numb and trying not to show my shock. Maybe it’s a mistake. Someone probably just looked through the book and failed to put it back again.

  “Everything okay?” Maggie says. “You look a little… ruffled.”

  I try to smile. “Sure, I’m fine. It’s just… Do you remember that Book of Shadows? The one that seemed like it reached out to me?”

  Maggie knows that part, since we talked about how it just somehow appeared on the counter one morning, as if waiting for me. I just didn’t burden her with the rest. “Yes, of course,” she says. “Lauren Flannery’s book.”

  “Where did it go?”

  “Well, that was the strangest thing,” Maggie says. “I meant to tell you. A young witch came in and bought it.”

  I feel like I’m looking at Maggie through a tunnel, the world closing in around me. “A young witch. Who was it?”

  Maggie shakes her head. “I’d never seen him before, but he seemed nice.”

  “Him, you said.”

  “Yes, him. Rather an interesting looking young man, with hair that was almost white. He had the most striking blue eyes. You’ll never guess what he said.”

  That chill keeps spreading within me. “What’s that?”

  “He said he’d been traveling, and that’s where he heard about our store. Turns out he met someone we both know.”

  I overcome my numbness long enough to utter one word. “Grayson.”

  “Yes, Grayson! So, I guess that solves that mystery of where Grayson disappeared to. He must have gone traveling again.”

  CHAPTER 11

  With nightfall still a few hours off, I assume that Nora is still snoozing away in my closet. Come to think of it, I really don't know much about how vampires sleep either, except what I've seen in movies. In those, the vampire basically turns into a statue—pale, stiff and laying on its back. But what's the reality? Do some curl up and sleep on their side? Do they snore? Fart? Probably not, right? Vampires would have been hunted down and wiped out long ago if you could hear them snoring and farting.

  And what about that other part? Nora said her lover, Claire, was killed by hunters. How does that work? For me, snuffing out vampires is a snap. I just light up an orb, send it flying and then, poof, dust and bones. But what about my non-magical counterparts? Is it true that they resort to hammers and wooden stakes? I guess I should ask Nora. Would that be insensitive? I guess maybe a little.

  These are my thoughts as I stroll the sidewalk on Franklin Street heading toward the VCU campus. I'm not sure what my odds are, but I know Autumn has a class ending at five. Some sort of workshop in the Fine Arts Building. She's mentioned it a few times, since that class is one of her favorites, except apparently that building is always cold. If nothing else, I'm a good listener.

  I arrive just as people start to spill out. These are older, grad school types, so it looks like I timed things right. A moment later, Autumn comes down the steps. She walks by without seeing me, but it’s not like I told her I was coming. I follow after her just as a breeze blows back her hair. Oh, no. Does she know her ears are showing?

  I trot up beside her and tap her on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy. How's it going?”

  Autumn breaks her stride, her face lighting up in a smile. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just sort of in the neighborhood,” I say.

  Understandably, Autumn looks confused.

  “Well, I sort of took a bus and then I was in the neighborhood. Um, by the way…” I gesture toward the side of her head.

  “Oh, shit!” Autumn jams her hand into her bag. She takes out a wool knit cap and tugs it on over her head. “I keep forgetting,” she says. “No magic, no glamour. At first I wondered if my ears might just go back to normal. But, nope.”

  “Weird,” I say.

  “Thanks.”

  I can’t help laughing. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know I like elf ears.”

  Autumn tugs at the cap again, looking around. “Did anybody see?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s not like there’s a law against having pointy ears.”

  Autumn starts walking again, and I fall in beside her. “True,” she says. “But I didn’t have pointy ears before, so that might seem a little strange.”

  I shrug. “Whatever. They’ll get over it.”

  “Easy for you to say. You still have a glamour.”

  Which reminds me why I came stalking in the first place. We come to an intersection and I grab hold of Autumn’s sleeve. I pull her around the corner.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Right, a little explanation might be nice. I’m acting like I’m trying to mug her. “Just hang on,” I say. “I’ve got something for you.”

  Autumn lets me keep tugging on her until we step into an alley behind a restaurant. It smells like a grease trap back there, but at least no one is around. I pull the stone from my pocket. “Here. Maybe this will do the trick. Or at least a trick. I’m not sure.”

  Autumn stares at the Faerie stone, which glows blue in the palm of my hand. “What the heck is that?”

  “A talisman,” I say.

  “Well, yeah, I can see that. Where did it come from?”

  Does Autumn sound pissed? I could swear she sounds a little pissed. “I made it,” I say. “Go on, give it a whirl.”

  Autumn shakes her head. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? It took me like four hours to make this thing. At least give it a try. Maybe you can use it to cast a glamour.”

  Autumn sighs, but doesn’t take the stone. “Look, that’s really nice of you, but it’s not worth the risk.”

  “What risk?”

  “Of having you wind up in the same boat as me,” Autumn says. “You don’t get it, do you? What do you think will happen if they find out you shared your magic with me?”

  She doesn’t have to explain who she means by “they.” Sarah Wellingsford and her masked henchmen, of course. “Screw them. What are they going to do about it?”

  Autumn looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe bind your powers and try to have you killed? All they need is an excuse.”

  “How do you know?”

  Autumn sighs again. “Technically, I don’t, but trust your gut. What do you think?”

  I do as I’ve been told and arrive at the answer quickly. She’s right. Sarah Wellingsford and her crowd would love nothing more than to take me out of the picture too. The only reason it hasn’t happened already is because I was at that coven meeting. I just happen to have an alibi, when they probably counted on the opposite.

  “I’m willing to take the risk,” I say.

  Autumn shakes her head. “Well, I’m not. I just couldn’t live with it. Besides, right now you need your magic, and by that I mean all of it.”

  Knowing Autumn, I’m sure she means I need my magic to look after myself. At the same time, she just hammered another point home. If something happens to me, then how am I going to save her? Not to mention Bethany and the others. In other words, if I compromise my magic, or if Wellingsford takes me out of the picture, we’re all screwed. No pressure or anything.

  Still, I try one more time. “Are you sure?”

  Autumn nods. “I’m sure.”

  I put the stone back into my pocket. “Then you should tell Ian. The two of you should just take off together. I’ll find you guys after I clean up this mess.”

  Autumn doesn’t even pretend to consider. “Not gonna happen. I’m not dragging him into this either. When it’s over, I’ll tell him. Okay?”

  When it’s over. By which she really means, If I’m still around. I fight back against tears yet again. This just isn’t the time, and Autumn ju
st doesn’t need it. If she can handle this so calmly, then I can too.

  I hesitate and then say, “Fair enough. You know he’s going to be pissed, right?”

  Autumn shrugs. “He’s used to me. How’d it go with the vampire?”

  “Nora?”

  It’s a stupid response. Who else could she mean?

  Autumn raises an eyebrow. “That’s her name?”

  “Right, Nora.”

  Autumn thinks about that for a moment. “Huh. I always expect them to have names like Jessica and Victoria. You know, sort of gothic and creepy. Although, I guess that doesn’t really make sense. Anyone can be turned into a vampire, I suppose.”

  Which I take to mean that soon there might be a vampire named Autumn.

  To take her mind off of it, I say, “She seems nice.”

  Autumn’s expression shifts to one of shock. “She’s nice?”

  “Well, she’s a vampire, but she didn’t try to kill me or anything.”

  I go on to tell Autumn about Nora, as well as a little about her history. I tell her about the other vampires I met, and what we’ve learned about Mason. For now, I leave out the dangers we encountered, promising myself that I really will tell her later. I know I told her I’d be transparent, but she just doesn’t need the stress. I finish by saying that we plan to keep looking tonight.

  Autumn glances at something behind me, then shifts her eyes back to mine. “Are you meeting her at that factory again?”

  I hesitate, but then just go with the truth. After all, Autumn once took home a wounded werewolf. “She’s at my place,” I say.

  Autumn’s brow furrows with confusion. “Hang on. There’s a vampire sleeping in your apartment?”

  I shrug. “She promised not to feed on anyone. I think she’ll keep her word.” I glance at the darkening sky and add, “Besides, she’s probably not up yet.”

  “Where did you put her?”

  “In my closet,” I say.

  Autumn’s expression shifts to one of amusement, and I get the feeling she’s trying not to say something.

  “What?” I say.