by J. S. Malcom
It’s not the first time I've considered therapy. For my insecurities, if nothing else. Then there’s my ongoing issue with commitment. Just ask my recent lovers Phoenix and Esras about that aspect of my personality.
“You still there?” Autumn says.
I remember that I’m still on the phone. Damn, I need coffee. “Yeah, sorry,” I say. “Don’t worry, I'm fine. But I have to admit that deal freaked me out a little.”
I leave out my other concern, which is that obviously I didn't get paid. Partly, because that's not the priority at the moment, and partly because Autumn has mixed feelings about my new business. I knew she would, which is why I waited to tell her. Besides, I wasn’t sure if it would even become a regular thing.
“Okay, let's go over it again,” Autumn says. “You decided the ghost had to go, right?”
“Definitely.”
“No mixed feelings there? Because that can affect things. Like if—”
“No mixed feelings,” I say. “Dorothy was a total douche.”
“Okay, because you said she was a servant in her last life. Sometimes sympathy can—”
I cut Autumn off again. “Seriously, any sympathy I felt didn't last long. Besides, she was drinking herself to death, which isn't easy to do when you’re dead.”
“You said something distracted you. What was that about?”
Right, I did mention that part, although now I wonder if that whole thing was just my imagination. “It was just a shadow. I thought it moved.”
“What made the shadow?”
“I don't know. Light, I guess?”
“Ha ha. Good to know you have a handle on physics. What made it move?”
I get up and fill my mug with water at the sink. I could use magic for that, but time spent in Faerie has left me a little more judicious about when to use magic. Besides, that’s just lazy. “Well, obviously, if I don't know what made the shadow, then I can't say what made it move. It was probably a tree branch or something.”
“She had trees in her living room?”
Now I know Autumn is just messing with me. “Outside, I mean. It was windy yesterday.”
But didn't I only see that shadow in the mirror? It seems like I should have noticed it moving across the wall.
“Well, maybe it was just the distraction that messed you up,” Autumn says. “I wouldn't worry about it.”
Autumn means well, but I've used magic in many situations, with all kinds of distractions. Body snatchers, vampires and demons, to name a few. Why would a shadow trip me up? Not once but twice?
“Listen, I should probably get going,” Autumn says. “I told Mom we’d go shopping. Don’t forget we have that brunch thing this weekend.”
Right, we’re supposed to meet Mom’s new boyfriend. Big Jim, as Autumn and I have started calling him, mostly to drive our mother crazy. I’m just not sure how to feel about that relationship, but I don’t want to be selfish. She has a right to a life. Maybe one of these days I'll find a way to have one of my own. In the meantime, I guess I'll just keep chasing ghosts around. Although, right now, that doesn't seem to be working out either.
~~~
An hour later, I’m finally dressed and ready to head out. Given last night’s failure, and my dwindling amount of cash, I really can’t justify a trip to Starbucks. On the other hand, the alternative is hiking to the store and back again before brewing a cup at home. Screw that. I’ll just skip lunch.
I walk out my door, start heading downstairs, and nearly bump into a guy carrying two large cardboard boxes. He’s wearing a long wool coat and has a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “Didn’t see you there.”
He regards me with piercing blue eyes. He says nothing.
With his lean body, wavy dark hair and those blue eyes, he kind of looks like Grayson. A younger version of him anyway. Weird. I wait for him to introduce himself and probably explain that he’s moving in. I mean, he must be, right? Why else would he be hauling stuff into the building?
The guy starts climbing the stairs again, leaning to one side, presumably to keep the duffle bag strap from slipping off his shoulder. Okay, friendly.
Still, I can’t help but notice that he seems to be struggling. “Um, do you need any help?”
He stops without turning around. The boxes float up into the air and hang suspended while he adjusts the strap of his bag. The boxes float back down into his arms again. “I’m fine, thank you,” he says, and he keeps climbing.
Right, he’s a witch or he wouldn’t be here. Why he’s carrying the boxes at all, I’m not sure. Especially since, a moment later, I press myself to the wall as a sofa floats past, followed by a kitchen table, a desk, a bookshelf and an aquarium. The aquarium is full. Fishes gape out at me as they pass by, their mouths silently opening and closing.
Okay, point taken. He definitely doesn’t need my help.
I head downstairs, and I’m almost out the front door when something thumps against the wall. If I’m not mistaken, the sound came from inside Anna’s and Lissette’s apartment. I wait for a moment, then open the front door. Something thumps against the wall again. I let the front door fall closed. I’m never going to get that cup of coffee.
I take several steps back until I’m in front of their apartment door. Normally, I wouldn’t be worried, but the back of my neck just started tingling. I feel a little edgy too. It’s mild, but I just can’t ignore it.
I knock and Lissette answers, looking gorgeous as always. With her beautiful dark skin, large eyes and sensuous lips, she doesn’t even have to try. Today, her hair falls around her face in a cascade of bright blue braids. Even wearing a pair of faded jeans and a simple white top, she looks better than most people do on their wedding day. She’s just naturally stunning.
“Hey, Cass! Come on in, girl.” Lissette swings the door open and gestures with a rolled up magazine.
“Everything okay?”
“Not too bad,” she says. “How’s things with you?”
She doesn’t explain the rolled up magazine, but I assume she must have been swatting something. Probably a wasp. A little unusual in winter, but Richmond weather swings all over the place. We never seem to reach the point of being bug-free.
“Pretty good,” I say. “I was just heading out to Starbucks. Need anything?” I don’t mention listening outside their apartment, so they don’t think I’m nosy. Besides, the edgy feeling has faded, so maybe that was just my magic misfiring again. Great.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lissette says. “We just made coffee.”
Anna looks up from where she sits with her laptop. “Seriously, there’s a whole pot. Save your money.”
With her kinky red hair, pale complexion and thick glasses, Anna is the stylistic polar opposite of her roommate. In other words, we inhabit the same end of the glamor spectrum.
Am I above mooching a cup of coffee off of Anna and Lissette yet again? Not at all, although I make a mental note to return the favor sometime soon. It was only a few weeks ago that I managed to score free donuts.
“Are you sure?” I say.
“Help yourself,” Anna says. “The price is giving me a refill while you’re at it.” She waggles her index finger toward her mug on the coffee table.
Fair enough. I retrieve her mug and head toward the kitchen.
Behind me, I hear Anna say, “I think this might be it. Come here and have a look.”
She’s talking to Lissette, obviously, so I go into the kitchen where the heavenly smell of coffee rises to my nose. I fill Anna’s mug and then one for myself. I add milk and sugar, and I’m about to take a sip when the tingling starts again. I tell myself that no supernatural threats could possibly be present. What the hell is going on with me?
I turn around, mugs in hand, and I go for that sip again when something whizzes past my face. I jump back, splashing hot coffee onto the floor, not to mention the back of my hand. Ow, shit.
I turn around to see what it was, and for a moment thin
k I have to be hallucinating. A tiny creature hovers in the air. It’s maybe four inches across, and looks like a chubby little frog crossed with a dragonfly. It’s pale blue with a fleshy pink comb on top of its head that reminds me of a rooster. It has big round eyes and four gossamer wings fluttering so fast they’re mostly blurred. I’m startled, to say the least. I’m even more startled when it opens its mouth and a long tongue jets out to explode the sugar bowl. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone again. As is the sugar, apparently, leaving just a spray of granules along with ceramic shards and a teaspoon rattling across the counter.
Okay. So, that just happened.
I head back out into the living room, pass off Anna’s mug and finally take a sip of coffee. Much better.
“So, there’s something in your kitchen,” I say.
Anna and Lissette, now both perched next to each other on the sofa, keep staring at the computer. They both nod, neither looking up at me.
“We think it’s a snorfler,” Anna says.
“Snorfler,” I say. Of course it’s a snorfler. Silly me. What else could it possibly be?
“Come here and have a look,” Lissette says.
I join them on the sofa and, there on the laptop, I see an artist’s rendering of the very same creature that just startled the living crap out of me. Now that I see it frozen lifeless as a two-dimensional image—and not jetting past my head to pulverize a sugar bowl—the thing looks incredibly cute. It has four chubby little limbs I barely had time to notice before, with tiny little bud-like fingers and toes.
“Is that Facebook?” I say.
They’ve clicked to enlarge the image, blocking out the stuff behind it, but I see comments and likes. Along with a few hearts and a smattering of angry faces. Yeah, definitely Facebook.
Anna nods. “One of my witch groups. Invitation only, but let me know if you’re interested.”
Nice of her to offer, but I’m not sure I want to join any more Facebook witch groups. I have enough distractions in my life without phone notifications every three minutes. Oh look, a new ward! Oh look, I just tried this spell! Oh look, check out this potion! Kind of like Bobby and Jeremy delivered algorithmically.
I stick to the subject at hand. “What, exactly, is a snorfler?”
“Well, according to this,” Anna says, “snorflers are demons. At least, technically.”
Ah. That explains my hackles rising. While I’m not happy to hear that a snorfler is a demon, I’m at least relieved to know that my magic isn’t faltering.
“They sure are cute,” Lissette says.
“That thing just murdered your sugar bowl,” I say.
“Dammit. I got that from my grandmother,” Anna says.
“Are you sure it’s a demon?” Lissette says.
Anna shrugs and keeps looking at the screen. “According to this, yeah. Technically, anyway, but more like a low form of demon life. Basically, like that realm’s version of a frog, if that makes sense.”
In a strange way, it does. I’ve encountered a few demons now—imps, sabanoks, raveners, and others I couldn’t identify. Most of them have been pretty easy to deal with. So, I’m guessing those were lower demons too. My sister, on the other hand, dealt with a demon that was way more treacherous. She nearly got lured into a dream-world trap that the demon created for her, one from which she might never have escaped. Autumn never did battle with the thing directly. Instead, she defeated the witch working with that demon through dark magic. Had things gone the other way, that witch might have been successful in stealing Autumn’s powers. In other words, the word “demon” is used to describe a broad spectrum of lifeforms existing in some other place I’ve never been and hope never to go.
I look back and forth between Lissette and Anna. “Any thoughts on how it could have ended up in your apartment?”
“No idea,” Anna says. “But it has to go.”
“I tried calling Shakeesha,” Lissette says. “Have you seen her around lately?”
For a moment, I wonder if she's kidding. Does anyone ever see her around? Not as far as I can tell. While Shakeesha is fond of creating prank wards like the door troll, she definitely keeps to herself. I’ve met her only the one time, when I signed my lease. I haven’t seen her since.
“You kind of lost me,” I say. “What can Shakeesha do about it?”
Lissette shrugs. “Well, she is the building manager. She must have to do something about infestations.”
“I’m not sure one snorfler counts as an infestation,” Anna says. “Especially since it kind of comes and goes from, well, wherever demons come and go from.”
That remains largely a matter of speculation among witches. Of course, we’re aware of the religious lore, but witches don’t believe in Hell. At least, not as an actual place with a capital H. We believe hell is a state of being created by our thoughts and actions. A state of punishment, but self-inflicted.
Lissette gestures toward the snorfler image on the computer screen. “That thing can’t be a demon. It’s too cute.”
At that same moment, another thump comes from the kitchen, followed by the sound of breaking glass.
Anna sighs. “Cute or not, if our new roommate just broke my stemware I’m going to eviscerate it.”
It seems like an opening to offer my veil witch services. After all, ejecting supernatural intruders is my specialty. But how did it get here? Demons can’t physically manifest in our realm unless they’re invited by means of dark magic. Or, theoretically, by someone opening the veil. Then again, my veil witch magic glitched out twice last night. What that means, I have no idea, but for now I decide to let things ride just in case the snorfler is a relatively harmless clue of some sort. Sentimental ceramics and stemware notwithstanding.
“Speaking of roommates,” I say, “I ran into some guy upstairs. Were we expecting anyone to be moving in?”
Anna reaches for her coffee. “You must mean Alec Holsteiner. I heard he'd be showing up soon.”
Obviously, she knows him. Or knows of him. At the same time, I think I catch a hint of wariness in her tone.
“Know anything about him?” I say. “It seemed like he had some serious mojo going on.”
As in, a train of furniture just followed him up the stairs. Levitation is basic stuff, but that display was still impressive.
“Not much,” Anna says. “Apparently, he’s related to Sarah Wellingsford in some way. I’m not sure of the details.”
I take another sip of my coffee, wishing we had donuts. Damn, I’m getting hungry. Would it be rude to whip up a grilled cheese sandwich or something? Yeah, probably.
“Who’s Sarah Wellingsford?”
“Right, you never go to the coven meetings,” Anna says. “If you ever did, you’d know.”
There’s nothing in her tone suggesting she resents me for not going. Still, I can’t help but feel a little guilty. Especially since Autumn has mentioned the same thing a few times. Okay, so I’m a little bit socially phobic. Try living without a body for fifteen years and see how well-adjusted you are. Also, I’m not big on structure.
Anna appears to have gotten sucked into her Facebook group, so Lissette fills in the gaps. “Sarah Wellingsford is a tenth generation pure-blood elemental. She’s like eighty or something now, but she was a force to be reckoned with in her day. Rumor has it she could literally make trees tear their roots out of the ground and start walking. Lift her hands into the air and make hawks fly down and perch on her arms as weapons. Definitely not a witch to be messed with at the time. These days, she keeps to herself, although sometimes she hosts coven meetings at night. Maybe she sleeps all day. Who knows? I guess I would if I was that old.”
“Well, damn,” I say. Maybe I really should go to more coven meetings. “And this Alec dude is related to her?”
Lissette shrugs. “Somehow. He’s like her cousin’s daughter’s daughter’s kid twice-removed or something. Not that it really matters. But the thing is, Sarah’s magic seemed to have petered out with her. She n
ever had any kids and everyone thought it ran its course through their family’s bloodline.”
“I take it that’s not the case.”
“Apparently not,” Lissette says. “Magical genes can be slippery. Sometimes powers get passed along in a straight line, and other times they become recessive and pop up somewhere else later. Word is that Alec is the somewhere else, in this case. Anyway, he’s been studying in some snooty witch school in England for the last few years, but he decided to come back here. No one knows why. And now he’s moving onto the third floor.”
Once again, I can’t help but think of Grayson. Grayson wasn’t really Grayson, of course. He was Vintain. Still, he posed as a powerful mage. He also studied at some school abroad, although I never found out where, exactly. Probably just a coincidence, but still.
“Hey, check this out,” Anna says.
She turns the laptop our way to show us the screen. Lissette and I perch forward to see a photo of scorched earth—a black expanse of land with just a few gnarled forms suggesting there might have been crops or trees growing before the shot was taken. It’s hard to tell, but clearly nothing is growing now. The photo looks to have been taken at sunset, the sky glowing scarlet.
A chill runs down my spine as I remember that creepy dream I had, with its blood-red sky and those people being held prisoner. Great. I’d almost forgotten and now it’s knocking around in my head again. Still, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.
I make myself focus on the laptop screen. “What happened there?”
“That’s just it,” Anna says. “No one knows.”
Lissette leans in closer. “Are you still on the witch group page? You are, right?”
Anna nods while taking another sip of coffee. “A different post but, yeah. Apparently, we’re not the only ones having a weird experience. This shot was taken by a witch out in Amelia County. Phyllis Cooper. She owns a farm out there. She and her neighbors woke up to this the other night.”
“Wait, that looks like sunset,” I say.
Anna lowers her glasses and looks up at me. “Nope. According to Phyllis, she woke up when her windows lit up red, so she went outside to see what was going on. She said a shadow passed over her land. Just a few seconds, and then it was gone. After that, everything around her was dead.”
