Witch in Progress

by Elle Adams

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Lizzie, while Bethan glared daggers at her. I dropped my gaze and spotted the rolled-up newspaper on the desk.

  The photo on the cover was of the man who’d appeared in my head for a brief instant when I’d looked at the file in the desk drawer. Mr Bayer. The murder victim… and previous client.

  The reason Bethan hadn’t wanted me to look at the file was because the last client who’d spoken to my predecessor was dead. Murdered, actually. Two days before I got the call inviting me here.

  3

  Weirdly, it was murder that was the final straw. Not the werewolves or wands or witchery, or even the fact that everyone here seemed to think they knew who I was. I stared at the paper in horror. “Someone died here.”

  Bethan leaned over to me. “I’m sorry. It’s unfortunate timing. Here, serious crimes are extremely rare.”

  I swallowed and looked closer at the rolled-up paper. It said the master spell-maker had been poisoned in his own place of employment.

  “Your predecessor left because she was disturbed by the timing, but she was in no danger,” added Bethan. “Nor are you. I promise.”

  “Told you she couldn’t handle it,” said Blythe.

  I backed towards the door. Whatever Blythe’s problem was with me, I didn’t know or care. Maybe they were a murderous cult, maybe they were barking mad… maybe they meant every word, magic was real, and my Hogwarts letter had been returned for a refund. But one thing was absolutely clear—this place was dangerous. Sentient office printers weren’t even the half of it.

  I fled the office into the reception area. Callie wasn’t there this time. I was penniless and more or less stranded, most of my possessions were with my questionable new flatmate, and despite being stark raving bonkers, these people seemed to know me. Who the hell wouldn’t want some answers at this point?

  I sank to the floor, my hands over my face. Whether this place was truly dangerous or not, I hadn’t thought so when I’d walked past the pretty houses and the lake which didn’t exist on any map. Fairy Falls. Maybe I’d been under a spell since the moment I’d entered the village.

  The door opened and Security McHottie walked in, because the universe had decided not to give me a break. I should also probably get his real name from someone at some point.

  He looked at me. “What are you doing down there? Are you okay?”

  “Sure, why not add murder to the list.”

  “List?” he echoed.

  “Monster hunters, werewolves, witches, sentient printers and flying papers. And the name. Fairy Falls. This is… a circus.”

  “You found out about the murder?” He grimaced. “Sorry. It was last week, so the town’s still a little on edge.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not even that. I’m… normal. I was raised normal. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.”

  His brows shot up. “Wait. You’re a normal? You? Is that why…”

  “Why I’m not supposed to be here, and why this is all like some weird acid trip? Yep.”

  “Oh no.” He looked accusingly past the reception desk at a door near the back. “She didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have interrogated you if I’d known you were a normal.”

  “Honestly, where I came from, I was considered eccentric.” And why couldn’t I shut my stupid mouth? It wasn’t like me to spill my feelings in an ugly mess in front of an attractive stranger. Okay, except when wine was involved. “And now everyone is participating in a shared delusion to make me completely lose my mind. Too bad. I figured out your game first.”

  His brow furrowed. “Do you think I’d waste my time hoaxing a stranger? It’s forbidden, for a start. Don’t mess with the normals. But I don’t think you are one. This is all empty space as far as the humans are concerned. They walk right past us.”

  “Witches,” I said. “Witches, werewolves… vampires? Zombies?”

  “All the above, and more. Sorry for assuming you were in the know. That can’t have helped.”

  I rested my head on my knees. “Please tell me I’m dreaming.”

  “You’re not dreaming. Do you normally dream about magic?” He sounded genuinely curious.

  “Usually I dream about missing the bus or showing up at work in my underwear.”

  Well done, Blair. He already thought me a fool. I couldn’t sink any lower in his estimation.

  “I suspect that’s because your powers were suppressed, living amongst normals. This town is a magical hot spot.”

  “You’re all completely mad.” I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “I’m sorry. You’re nice and everything, but you’re all…”

  “Magical? It’s real. I should tell the boss you didn’t know. I’m surprised. She’s usually efficient at checking her potential candidates’ details before calling.”

  “Apparently I have an identical twin.”

  “I’m fairly sure there’s only one Blair.” He chuckled a little. “I never did introduce myself properly, did I? I’m Nathan.”

  “You’re a witch as well? No, you said you… hunt monsters. Do I fall into that category?”

  “No. Hunters deal with paranormal rogues. Fairies hiding amongst humans, werewolves without a clan, that type of thing. But I don’t do that anymore.”

  “Paranormal rogues.” I snort-laughed, attractively. “Sure. Why not.”

  “Why not indeed? Have you ever had reason to suspect you’re more than human?”

  “More than human?” I spoke to my knees. “Nope. I like Harry Potter books as much as the next person, but I’m pretty sure the owl carrying my Hogwarts letter flew into a lamp post en route.”

  He laughed. Did he find me amusing? Hot guys didn’t laugh at my terrible jokes. They also didn’t listen while I spilled my sob story all over the floor and then sat in a puddle of my own failures.

  “I don’t belong here,” I told him. “Plainly, someone hired the wrong person. Maybe someone who has the same name as me. It’s plausible.”

  Less plausible was the fact that every single detail on the profile the boss had found matched mine exactly, unless someone had uploaded my details to a paranormal recruitment site as a prank. But that seemed fairly pointless if they knew I wasn’t magical.

  He shook his head. “No, it was definitely you she meant to hire.”

  “How’d they find me?”

  “You’ll have to ask your boss that. I don’t know. But it’s rare that one of us grows up entirely unaware of this world.”

  “I’m an orphan,” I said, my voice brittle. “I was raised in foster care, and I wouldn’t know if my family was magical because they’ve never got in touch with me.”

  He took a step towards me as though uncertain whether to comfort me or not. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but you’re amongst equals now. You wouldn’t have known what you are if nobody told you. As I said—there are rules affecting how much normals are allowed to know about us.”

  “You all sound so logical.” I climbed to my feet. “Why does it make so much sense?”

  In the fantasy books I read, ‘you’re a wizard’ came with a big fanfare and huge revelation. It didn’t strike me as the type of thing you blundered into by accident.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “The boss will talk you through everything, if you decide to stay. There won’t be any more unwelcome surprises.”

  “I think I’ve used up my lifetime quota of surprises,” I said. “So you work for her, too?”

  “I’m the town’s security. I work for whoever hires me. It’s rare that we get visitors at all, so they wanted someone to check on you. Speak of the devil…”

  Another door had opened, and a woman with long silver-white hair strode out. “Is the new girl here?”

  Nathan gave me a look clearly indicating that he wouldn’t stop me from leaving. But I dearly wanted to know who it was who’d found my details floating around in the void of graduate job application websites and somehow plucked out that I was… not-normal from that.
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  Okay. Let’s meet the boss. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation.

  The boss—Veronica—beckoned me into an office, pulling out a chair. A plush chair. Everything was plush, and fluffy, a total contrast with her sharp professional business suit. Smiling kittens looked down at me from the walls. I stared in disbelief. Fluffy kittens should not look so creepy.

  “Overkill?” she asked, then snapped her fingers. The walls emptied themselves of fluffy kittens and turned to beige instead, while the chair became oak wood. Now it looked more like a headteacher’s office. An improvement, though not much.

  “I have to apologise,” she said. “It’s no way to start a new job.”

  I sunk in my seat. “I think you have the wrong person.”

  “No, we have the right person. It was presumptuous of me to assume that you’d be fully aware of your magical status despite having spent most of your life in an entirely normal environment. You must have a lot of questions.”

  “How did you find me?” I asked. “I know—my details showed up online. I don’t remember uploading a profile on that site, though.”

  “We scan the normal sites, too,” she said. “I have a gift for picking out the best candidates. Bethan gets it from me—my daughter,” she added in explanation. “I hired her for her skills, though, not because we’re related.”

  Uh-huh. Some things apparently didn’t change whether you were a normal or not.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “since we already have the local covens represented, I decided to reach out to you. We specialise in dealing with paranormal clients who often have trouble tracking down potential employees. Because all magical towns are hidden as well as this one, and the normals’ world blocks all magic from view. I assume you’ve never experienced anything weird before.”

  I nearly laughed. “Aside from coming here? No.”

  But that wasn’t true. What Bethan had said rang too many familiar notes. I’d never felt like I fit into the everyday world, and was perpetually one step behind everyone else. I moved between jobs, between houses, like I was following an itch I couldn’t scratch. I assumed it was down to being the only one of my friends who hadn’t settled down, but now I had to wonder if there was more to it than that.

  “If you’re new to magic, you’ll need a tutor,” said Veronica. “Madame Grey will sort you out. She leads the Meadowsweet Coven… she owns the whole town, technically. But you won’t need to use those skills for this job. Your profile said you’ve worked in recruitment before.”

  “I have. But I was under the impression I’d be sending emails and making phone calls. I thought technology didn’t work around magic.”

  “Normal technology doesn’t,” she said. “Ours is special. Lizzie’s coven specialises in magical technology. We live in the modern world, don’t we? Most of us didn’t grow up totally isolated.”

  Point taken. “And the man who died?”

  “I’m sure they’ll catch the killer in no time. It’s unfortunate that you had to move here so soon after. But it’ll be solved. Put it out of mind, if you can. I think you’ve had enough information to absorb.”

  No kidding. “Wait—what about my family? I’m adopted. There are no records. At least, I’ve never been able to find them. So were they witches, too?”

  “You can ask Madame Grey,” she said. “She knows all the covens, local or not.”

  Might my family still be alive? Stop there—that was too far. I needed to get my thoughts under control before I ran screaming from a situation that was frankly more fascinating than anything I’d ever encountered in my life.

  “We can help you learn everything you need to, and you already have accommodation sorted,” said Veronica. “So… want to give it a go?”

  My mouth hung open. I should say no. But I’d been offered a lifeline, and aside from Blythe, the others seemed genuinely fun to work with. It wasn’t like I was inexperienced in this particular job field. I just needed to stick the word ‘paranormal’ in front of everything and try not to make too many Hogwarts references.

  “All right,” I found myself saying. “I’ll give it a try.”

  4

  I gripped the phone as though if I held on tightly enough, it’d stop me from dissolving into another meltdown.

  Bethan’s presence at my side wasn’t helping matters. She was a human whirlwind perched on a rotating office chair. The sound of shuffling papers and tapping keys permeated the background as I struggled to get my head back into Office Phone Call Mode. At least all the noise convinced me I hadn’t imagined the situation. Let’s face it: nobody would get this many people involved in creating such a ridiculous setup to mess with me. And despite the pinch marks on my arms, I still hadn’t woken up yet. It was real. All of it.

  The sound of a dial tone continued. I was told to keep trying until I got hold of the potential candidate.

  “Hello?” I asked, as someone finally picked up. “Is this Mr Vaughn Llewellyn?”

  Grr.

  A wolf. The image was clear and insistent this time, infiltrating my mind and making me completely forget my line. Nope. I need to take in the whole witch thing before I can start having more wolf hallucinations.

  “Hello, this is… Dritch & Co recruitment agency. We’ve found your profile and we believe you’d be a prime candidate for our employee. We’d like to invite you to an interview.”

  The growling resolved into a human-sounding voice. “Who did you say you were?”

  “Eldritch & Co.”

  My brain heard his raspy voice and said werewolf. Nope. No wolves. Put the thought into a drawer and close it firmly.

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. Oh. He’d said something when I’d been lost in thoughts of wolves. “Can you say that again?”

  “I said, didn’t you call me about another job last week?” he growled.

  Wait. I looked down at the file with his name on it. I knew that name. I’d seen it recently… on the list of clients interviewed by Mr Bayer.

  This man was one of the potential employees for the last client. One of the people rejected for the job before the client’s untimely death.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, in his raspy voice.

  “Nope. It’s my first day here. The client would be interested in interviewing you if you’re available…” I rattled off the rest of my speech, my mind in freefall. I was pretty sure his file didn’t say he was a werewolf, but that was probably my brain’s attempt to cope with a rapidly unravelling situation. But he’d been for an interview at Mr Bayer’s place right before he’d died. And what about the other names on the call list?

  When the call finished, I skimmed through today’s list of candidates. Then I looked up, checked nobody was watching, and picked up the file for the previous employee. Werewolf dude wasn’t the only name that matched. Mr Bayer had interviewed the potential candidates the same day he’d been murdered.

  “You don’t have to look at that,” said Bethan, leaning across from her own desk.

  “I know, but—look at these names.” I held up the file. “The guy I just spoke to on the phone was interviewed by Mr Bayer the day he died.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I think I’d remember the name ‘Vaughn Llewellyn’. There are others here, too.” I put the file back down. “How’d he die, anyway? A werewolf bite?” Oops. I hadn’t meant to say the last part aloud.

  “No. He was poisoned, the report says. What do you mean, a werewolf bite?”

  “He was a werewolf, right? The guy I spoke to.” Stop talking.

  She took the file from me, momentarily pausing in her multitasking. “The file listed him as human. A wizard. How do you know he was a werewolf?”

  “I just… do.” Because apparently images of wolves were stalking me today. But if there was any place I could safely mention that without everyone thinking I’d lost my marbles, it was here. “When he spoke to me on the phone, I kept getting images of wolves. Might
that be a magic thing? It’s been happening since I came here. I… saw him, without actually seeing him. If that makes sense.”

  She frowned. “We can certainly look into his details, but he’s not listed as a werewolf. Then again, I don’t remember every client. Was he rejected for the position?”

  “Must have been, if he’s on my call list for today,” I said.

  Bethan glanced over at the papers on my desk. “This is our busiest season. I’m sorry for the mix-up. But if he is a werewolf, he’s required by law to disclose it on his application form. Paranormal authorities’ rules, not ours.”

  “And if he’s breaking one rule, he might have broken others.” Murder, though? Werewolf or not, Callie was one, too… stop that. I didn’t have any business making snap judgements on strangers based on weird thoughts that came into my head. What I needed was to do my job.

  “Is there a police office here?” I asked. “Do they have a copy of the same list?”

  “There’s small one. Few staff. Paranormals generally police our own. The werewolves certainly do. But… hmm. Maybe this is evidence, and I don’t think the police have it. We need the case cleared up as quickly as possible.”

  She was still looking at me like… well, like I’d told her she was a witch and everyone around me was either the same or some other type of paranormal creature. What I’d done couldn’t be that unusual, right? Not that I was exactly an expert on the subject.

  “I didn’t mean to imply I don’t believe you,” she added. “No… I need to check something first.”

  She opened the desk drawer. I stared into what appeared to be a massive vault crammed with enough papers and files to fill an entire house. A cage sat at the back, emitting squeaking noises, and… “Is that a bookshelf?”

  “Yep.” She pulled a stick of wood wrapped in a silver ribbon from amongst a container of other miscellaneous objects. A magic wand. I stared in fascination, then jumped as the office printer whirred to life when she pointed her wand at it. Then it spat a piece of paper at her, which she caught by her fingertips.