Coven Codex_From the Federal Witch Series

by Taki Drake

  “Of course, Detective. However, I would warn you that some of the items within the packs may be warded. Two of them belong to my traveling companions, who are mercenaries. I would never dare to sort through their packs, although you are welcome to do so at your own risk.”

  As soon as Zhanna had said the word “mercenary,” the big man had paled to a deathly white where he stood between the two policemen. At the same time, the blond woman had taken a step backward and frozen in place, her head darting from side to side as if looking for a way to escape.

  The police detective showed his surprise with the widening of his eyes and a momentary freeze to his mobile face. Recovering quickly, he commented, “Perhaps you would be so kind as to open the top flap of each of them so I might see what is on the surface. From what I heard, Anna here is claiming that you just stuffed her purse inside. If I can note that there is no such purse directly inside the flap, I believe the matter will be closed.”

  Zhanna gave a gurgle of laughter which brought a fleeting smile to the serious detective’s face. Reaching over, the young Witch began to unlace the top flap of the pack next to her as she said, “I would hope that would be safe. But I will happily open them and show you that we have nothing of this woman’s in there.”

  A predatory look of anticipation grew on Anna’s face as Zhanna flipped open the first pack. It was almost ludicrous at the speed that the blond woman’s face froze into a mask of surprise when the flap was pulled back, and nothing that appeared to be a woman’s purse was in there. In fact, the top part of the pack was covered with a smooth surface, a folded rain poncho that was a standard part of any mercenary’s equipment.

  Allowing the detective to satisfy himself that there was nothing of interest there, Zhanna quickly closed the top of that pack and went onto the next one. Once again, she repeated the ritual of opening the bag and allowing the detective to satisfy himself that there was nothing in the pack that could be Anna’s.

  As the third bag was opened, Zhanna could see the woman had begun to sidle away from the clump of policeman and Zhanna. As the detective straightened up, he noted, “This last pack doesn’t look like the other two.”

  “That is because it is mine, Igor Kirov of the police department. And I am not a mercenary.”

  Just then there was a loud, shrill cry of terror and the hiss of an enraged feline. Spinning around, the entire group was amazed to see the blond woman, Annie, lying on the ground with an enraged black Familiar sitting on her chest with claws extended only millimeters from her eyes. One of the policemen that were holding the woman’s accomplice was so startled that he forgot himself and reached for his gun. A sharply-worded order from the detective stopped his arm in mid-motion.

  Turning to Zhanna, the man with the intelligent eyes looked at her carefully and then glanced back at the black cat. Something seemed to click in his expression and his smile broadened. Raising his voice to be heard clearly, he said, “Stuart and Anna, of all the people you had to pick to scam you were unlucky enough, or stupid enough, to pick a Witch and her familiar.”

  There was a dull thud as the big man fainted flat on the ground and the onlookers could hear Anna start to cry.

  Chapter 7 – Curious Events

  The detective was curious about Zhanna, that much was obvious. Every time she turned around or looked up she would find his eyes on her. There was no emotion showing on his face, merely an open information-gathering expression. As the patrolman took the two scam artists out of the area, Zhanna settled down to finish her tea. A slightly nervous waitress came over and provided her with a fresh pot of hot water and new tea leaves.

  The young Witch had thought that the restaurant would empty out from the discomfort of the police activity, but she was wrong. Instead, it was as if the other patrons were glued in their seats. Apparently, there were not a lot of exciting things going on in this town at the moment. Zhanna had become the entertainment, something that would bring the café business for quite a while.

  This was not hard to figure out because the manager of the café came over to introduce himself and to inquire as to whether Zhanna needed anything. She thanked him with a pleasant smile and told him that she was fine, although waiting for the rest of her party.

  Both the Witch and her Familiar were conscious of the increased observation and scrutiny of the rest of the diners. Zhanna felt as if there was a target painted between her shoulder blades and the back of her neck itched. There were so many side conversations and discussions going on around her that the young woman was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

  <> grumbled Dascha.

  << You have to admit that we are not what any of them were expecting. I am also confident that none of them expected the drama that we put on for their entertainment this morning. >>

  The conversation probably would’ve gotten more speculative, but at that point, Zhanna saw that Stefan was approaching the café with a stranger in tow. The young Witch could see Mikhail also approaching with a friend, although a considerable distance further away than the older mercenary.

  Stefan and the stranger reached Zhanna first. She could tell that something was making Stefan uneasy, although she could not put an exact name on the expression or characteristic that told her this. Dascha also had the same impression, saying, << Careful! Stefan is unhappy about something and its associated with the stranger. >> After a moment, the Familiar continued, << I don’t much care for him either! Not sure why, but he’s making the hair on my spine stand up. >>

  The young Witch was having the same visceral reaction to the stranger. There was nothing in his overall appearance that should have caused this reaction. The man was of middle height, a couple inches shorter than Stefan. He had an average-looking face, neither fat nor thin, sandy coloring and a pleasant expression. It was only standing so close to him that Zhanna could see the cold calculation in his eyes.

  As his gaze rested on her, Zhanna had a mental picture of how a bug must feel just before a scientist skewered them with a pin. Shaking herself slightly to dispel the mental image, Zhanna reacted politely as Stefan introduce them to each other.

  “Maxim, I would like you to meet Zhanna Artourivna, the head of our group. Zhanna, this is an old acquaintance, a well-known buyer of oddities here in Brasilov, Maxim Trobich.”

  The merchant responded gallantly, saying in a smooth voice followed by half bow, “Stefan did not mention how beautiful you were. I am pleased to meet the make the acquaintance of such a charming young lady.”

  Fighting against an unexpected surge of nausea, the young Witch answered, “Thank you. I appreciate that you’ve taken the time to come and speak with me.”

  “It is no problem. Stefan thought perhaps that we might do business. I understand you might have some oddities that you wish to dispose of and I’m always ready to help out one of our valiant mercenaries in need.”

  << I suppose it would be terribly inappropriate if I hacked up a hairball on his shoes at this point. >>

  << Dascha! Stop that! I’m trying to be calm here and choking on my own laughter is not going to help anything. >>

  The Familiar’s mental voice was suddenly somber, << There something dangerous here, Zhanna. I can see a purple-gray thread coming out from him, and it’s wrapped around Stefan’s wrist. There’s another one that’s inching its way toward you. I don’t want it to touch you. I don’t know why but you need to stay away from it. >>

  Zhanna forced a smile onto her face as she looked over at Maxim. With a slightly vacant look on her face, she said in a light tone, “That would be wonderful. As soon as we finished what we are doing here, Stefan can bring me around, and we can look at the items that I have for sale.”

  The merchant looked slightly disconcerted, apparently expecting a different response. He took a step closer to Zhanna but was abruptl
y brought to a halt by the presence of an irritated black cat. Hissing like a teakettle come to a boil, Dascha had her fur fluffed out and her tail held rigidly up. Her displeasure was evidenced by her flattened ears and exposed fangs. The combination of black coat, glowing eyes, and flashing white teeth turned the small cat into a fearsome force, one capable of making even a dominating bully back up.

  Zhanna had a flash of altered vision for a split second. It showed what looked like a snake of mixed purple and gray bands that had been sliding toward her. Dascha had pounced on them and was holding the writhing threads against the ground. The tendrils acted alive, but Dascha was holding them without apparent injury and without significant effort.

  Finally, the merchant found his voice, “That animal is vicious! I don’t understand why they allowed it in the restaurant.”

  “Obviously, my cat is normally well behaved, or they wouldn’t have allowed her here. However, she doesn’t like it when strange people approach me aggressively.”

  Another voice intruded into the conversation. It cut through the background noise with precise skill, clearly understood by everyone around. “Good afternoon, Master Merchant Trobich. This is far off your normal haunts. Is there some particular problem, sir?”

  It was Detective Kirov, standing to the left of the irritated merchant and looking at the tableau with a quirked eyebrow and canted head. Both Zhanna and the merchant were startled, not having heard the policeman approach. The merchant was the first to scramble into speech, saying, “No, no problem. I was just arranging to meet my old friend Stefan and his party later. However, the obviously aggressive cat startled me. Don’t the police deal with dangerous animals in this town?”

  The detective looked at the flushed merchant for a moment before deliberately kneeling on the ground and reaching a hand out to Dascha. “I assume that you’re talking about this lovely lady. I haven’t found her to be aggressive and she certainly doesn’t fly off the handle. She hasn’t chased any of the birds that flew through the outside café, and she has kept out from underneath everybody’s feet. Why on earth would you worry about such a well-behaved animal?”

  Zhanna was stunned when Dascha decided to add to the drama by moving over to the detective and rubbing her head against his hand. Winding her body around him, everyone within the area could hear the welcoming purr that rattled her little frame.

  Open-mouthed in astonishment, Zhanna saw the first flash of uncontrolled emotion from the detective as it flitted over the man’s face. It was pleasure, plain and simple. Momentarily forgetting everyone and everything else around him, the normally-controlled man crooned to the black cat, “Such a lovely lady deserves to be adored. A beautiful, smart girl and so wise. Keep your mistress safe.”

  Before anyone could say or do anything else, the police detective sprang to his feet and quickly dusted off his clothing. Turning once more to the merchant, the younger man asked, “Do you require an escort, sir?”

  Listening intently and observing with all the senses at her disposal, the young Witch noticed a flicker of that strange purple-gray tendril attempting to touch the police detective. Where it had wrapped around the wrist of Stefan without apparent resistance, when the tendril tried to touch Igor there was a spark of semi-visible fire and the tendril withered.

  “No, no. I require no escort. Thank you for the offer.”

  Turning to Stefan, Maxim started to say something but was interrupted by Zhanna. “Stefan, I think we need to go over the strategic plans that we were discussing as soon as we get the rest of the group together. Since you know where Master Merchant Trobich has his shop, we can join him later.”

  The young woman continued, addressing the remainder of her comments to the merchant, “Thank you for taking the time to introduce yourself. As I said, once we’ve identified exactly what we will sell, we will certainly contact you at the appropriate time.”

  Without another word, the merchant turned on his heel and stormed off. A pall of dark fog remained behind him, redolent of frustration, anger, and thwarted ambition. Stefan’s expression was a combination of disorientation and relief as he stared after the departing man.

  << Zhanna, there’s still a piece of that Magic wrapped around Stefan. We need to get it off of him because it looks like it’s doing something terrible. It is either sinking into to his skin or eating energy! >>

  Chapter 8 – Complications

  Zhanna’s throat constricted and her heart felt like it skipped a beat. Stefan was one of her oldest friends and someone whose welfare and their relationship was more important to her then she cared to admit. Concern for his wellbeing chased all other thoughts from her mind as she turned urgently to him and asked, “Stefan! Are you all right?”

  When the normally-composed mercenary responded to her, he sounded unlike his usual self. His words were slower than usual, and he seemed to be fighting something as he spoke. “I don’t feel very well. I’m not sure why but I feel drained and exhausted.”

  A hand reached over Zhanna’s shoulder, startling her once more. She had been so deep in concentration that she had lost her situational awareness. That could be fatal, even if it didn’t appear to have been dangerous this time. I need to stop doing that, it’s going to get me killed one of these days! she thought to herself.

  It was the police detective’s hand, and he was holding a large salt shaker. Glancing from his burden up along his arm into his face, Zhanna was startled once again to find that the man was quite close to her. Usually, she was immediately alerted when people came too close to her. For some reason, this man who she had met only a short time ago did not trip her defenses.

  Looking into his face, the young Witch did not see any of the expressions that she expected. Rather than leering or trying to bully her, his face held a look of concern.

  Igor said, “Salt is a handy thing when you’re trying to determine if someone has been beguiled. Or so I’m told.”

  Wordlessly, Zhanna nodded her head in thanks and took the salt shaker carefully, avoiding touching the man’s fingers with hers. A flashed smile on his face told her that he was not blind to what she had done, but the smile was amused rather than mocking. Flushing slightly, the young Witch ordered Stefan to extend his arm over the table and proceeded to liberally douse his arm with salt. She could feel the eyes of the patrons in the restaurant, watching her as she carefully applied the salt to all sides of Stefan’s wrist.

  Three times she sprinkled salt around the entire circumference of his wrist, following the remembered path of the gray and purple tendril. The third time that she repeated the application, there was another semi-visible flash of sullen light, and Stefan took a relieved, deep breath.

  “Beguiled. I didn’t realize what was going on. I am sorry, Zhanna. I’m supposed to be the experienced one, and I was taken in by a spell.”

  “Are you okay now, Stefan? I’m not exactly sure how to tell if it’s all gone.”

  << Hello? Who was the one who saw the spell to start with? Familiar here, remember? >>

  Zhanna blushed hotly, turning a vivid, deep red. Stroking Dascha once an apology, the chastened Witch asked, << So sorry, Dascha. Is the spell gone? I can’t see it anymore. >>

  << Every time you salted around Stefan’s wrist, the tendril got thinner and more anemic-looking. The third time it seemed to break up. >>

  << Thank goodness! I’m going to have to get better at these protection spells. I felt so helpless there. >>

  << No one can be good at everything, my Witch. That’s why you work as a team. Just don’t forget that others besides you have abilities and contributions to make. >>

  Acknowledging the reprimand, Zhanna reassured herself that Stefan was feeling better, ordering another pot of tea for him and suggesting that he sit down and relax. It was a measure of how badly affected the older mercenary had been by the Magical attack that he did not argue or resist her suggestion. Watching her team member closely, the young Witch only half-heard her Familiar murmuring, << I wonder how tha
t policeman knew what to do? >>

  It was not much longer before Mikhail and his friend approached the table where Zhanna and Stefan sat. Mikhail was just a full of energy as he had been when he left, burbling, “Hi, Zhanna! Stefan, you don’t look so good! What happened?”

  Without allowing any time to answer the questions or respond to the greeting, the younger mercenary rolled straight into his introductions.

  “Zhanna, this is my friend Dov Klimek. Dov, this is the Witch I was telling you about, Zhanna. Dov knows the merchants in the area and thinks he knows the best person for us to approach to sell the items that we want to get discard. I told him he had to come to meet you. If you decide that you want him to represent us, then we can go ahead. Otherwise, you didn’t have to use his services. He said that was okay and if you decide that you’re interested in doing something we can go visit his merchant friend.”

  Laughing, the strange man gave the mercenary’s shoulder a gentle shove, saying, “Stop already! You’re going to make her think that I’m as bubbleheaded as you are. Stop talking for a few minutes and let us say hello to each other.”

  The friendly admonishment brought a smile to Zhanna’s face and pulled an approving purr from Dascha. The Witch chimed in, saying, “Yes, Mikhail, by all means, please stop talking for long enough that we can respond.”

  Mikhail raised his hand in surrender and closed his mouth.

  Dov offered Zhanna a half-bow, remarking as he did so, “I am very pleased to meet you! As my chattering friend here said, I thought it would be easiest to meet initially in some neutral place so that you can decide if you wanted to do business with me. If you do, then we can finish up our business back at my other friend’s store.”