Borage

by Gill McKnight

  “Of all the insufferable, useless—” She let it ride. She was a temp and he would never, ever be her permanent problem. That was the cross for some other sucker to bear. Critter or not, his tweedy, old-world charm had plummeted so low, she could wipe her feet on it. She grabbed for the heap of folders, determined to have one last read-through before she entered the bear pit.

  And wait, but this was a perfect opportunity for her peace offering. She took the bag of bread out of her drawer and looped it around her arm. A few minutes later, she hesitated outside Ms Black’s office in a faceoff with the large, extremely solid mahogany door, which remained closed. Visitors had to knock hard, then square their shoulders before breaching her sanctuary.

  Or they could just barge in by mistake as she had the day before. She cringed inwardly at the memory.

  She reshuffled her armful of folders to free a hand. A paper clip fell off one of the more sizeable folders and disappeared down the front of her blouse. With an exasperated tut, she fished down the front of her bra with her free hand, the bread bag bumping against her hip. A quick rummage, and she located the lost clip and pushed it back into place on the folder. Then she rearranged her blouse and its contents back into some sort of order before she rapped smartly on the door.

  “Come.” The command rang out from within, and she reached for the handle when an uneasy sensation scraped along the nape of her neck, telling her two things. One, she was not alone, and two, something was very wrong. The curl by her left ear began to corkscrew, indicating the direction of the threat. She looked down the corridor and saw Iraldine several feet away glaring at her with scalding fury. Astral watched with growing alarm as Iraldine stormed along the corridor towards her like a flaming Valkyrie. What the…! Simple girl. I am but a—Hecate’s bells! Iraldine looked like she was about to murder her.

  “Come.” Ms Black barked again, her voice laced with slight impatience. Astral barely registered it, because almost all her attention was on Iraldine’s electric blue eyes, bright with anger and directed solely at her. What had she done to merit this acid bath glare?

  The answer dawned on her with a sickening stomach lurch. Iraldine had seen her fussing over her cleavage and assumed she was titillating herself before entering Ms Black’s office. Her face burned. For Hecate’s sake, the last thing she wanted to do was titillate Abby Black.

  Right?

  Iraldine was crazy and this was all a stupid misunderstanding.

  “There was a paperclip,” she sputtered in alarm. “In my bra.” I am but a simple girl. I am but—

  The door swung open and Ms Black towered over her, brows knit. With one sweep, her dark gaze took in the hostile standoff, and her eyes narrowed to slits. Iraldine turned on her heel and stalked off in the opposite direction, back rigid, anger fizzing off her in all directions, leaving them both staring after her. Ms Black’s face was an inscrutable mask while Astral fretted at making such a potent enemy over nothing at all.

  “Um. We have a meeting,” Astral murmured, conscious of her bright red face and frizzed-up hair.

  Abby Black stood back and wordlessly let her enter. She indicated they sit at a small round table rather than her desk, and got straight down to business, thankfully. Wordlessly, she skimmed over the first contract Astral handed over, her face tight with concentration. The bag with the bread leaned against her foot and she decided this was not quite the right time to bring it up.

  “Mr Rimes has nullified his contract?” Ms Black broke the silence, demanding clarification.

  “Apparently so,” Astral said. “Seems he’s left the country. Fergal looked it over with me and he said we had fulfilled all of Mr Rimes’ requirements and he could not retract at this stage. Though—” She fussed through the papers. “Though, to be honest, I can’t find any record of the services we actually provided for Mr Rimes.”

  Ms Black shrugged, unconcerned. “Where is Fergal?” she asked. “He should be here to talk me through these, not you.”

  “Ah, well,” Astral said, awkwardly, “something else came up and—”

  “He’s drunk, isn’t he?”

  “I have no idea,” she said, flustered. Did she look like a breathalyser? “I mean—”

  “It’s all right. I know Fergal of old.” Ms Black tossed the contract back on Astral’s pile. “Write to Mr Rimes and tell him this issue is not open to his own interpretation. Black and Blacker work to principles, not presumptions, and there will be no retraction of his obligation towards this company, no matter where in the world he lives.”

  Astral scratched out her instructions in her notebook, Ms Black barely giving her time to do so before she intoned, “Next.”

  This contract was another “no U-turns” process. And the next. And the next. Astral relaxed into her role, though she still was unsure what conditions the clients were trying to worm out of, and what services had been supplied in the first place. Ms Black worked at a furious pace. Her ideas and directions became an onslaught of information Astral rushed to take in, but she enjoyed applying herself, because a little reasonable pressure only added to the contentment of a good day’s work. This was more like her usual nine-to-five and she far preferred it to looking over her shoulder for a critter. In an odd way, this was the best part of her week so far, probably because it was the most normal.

  “Last one.” Astral handed the remaining folder over with a release of inner tension. She felt her shoulders drop an inch. Their fingers brushed, and she held her breath at the unexpected tingle the touch delivered, creating a new type of tension. Palpitations ran rampant in her chest and a burst of gooseflesh shot along her arm from where they had touched to the nape of her neck. Her hair pulled at her scalp, but in a good way. Abby Black must just be pure static electricity.

  “This is an interesting one,” Ms Black said. “I’d like your opinion.” She offered the contract to Astral. “Miss Shine is a single mother who is finishing college.”

  “What’s she studying?” Astral asked a little distractedly, taking her time to peruse the paper until the tingles had passed. She recalled the file from yesterday. It stood out because the contents were incredibly dense and very meticulous. Fergal had been reluctant to add it to Ms Black’s pile, and Astral suspected he wanted to cut Miss Shine some slack. Astral had also liked what she read, and on some intuitive level found herself rooting for the young woman. She sounded like an underdog in the dog pound of life, and Astral knew how that felt, so like Fergal, she kind of wanted Miss Shine to succeed.

  “She’s studying dental hygiene,” Ms Black answered, surprise in her eyes at Astral’s question. “She is in her final year, so it’s time for her to settle up.”

  “I remember this contract because the conditions were very exact.” Astral skimmed the pages, nodding to herself as the details fell into place.

  “Purposive interpretation. Miss Shine is nobody’s fool.” Ms Black gave grudging praise and nodded along in agreement.

  “She has two young children she is raising alone,” Astral pointed out, with a nod of empathy.

  “Yes, she has.” Ms Black was frowning. “I suppose we should consider that.” She nodded, too.

  Astral pointed to a particular section. “Here. Section 13.1.1a mentions accrued interest.”

  “There is accrued interest, yes.”

  Astral nodded, and found Ms Black was staring at her very intently. In fact, she was barely blinking, her stare was so focussed.

  “So…so, as she is in arrears, why can’t the interest levied be waivered against her underpayments?” She tried to redirect the intensity of Ms Black’s gaze to the particular clause. She nodded to encourage an answer and break the strange stare they’d both become locked into.

  “She’s beginning to fall badly behind,” Ms Black said. “I suppose we could cut her a little slack, maybe.” She nodded in synchronisation with Astral. “I like the idea of offsetting accrued interest against deficit, at least in this example, but not for everybody.”

 
Astral’s eyes widened. Abby Black had listened to her idea and liked it. This was a strange turn of events.

  Ms Black’s eyes widened as well, and her irises expanded into great pools of nothingness that Astral teetered on the edge of, her balance all cock-a-hoop, in danger of falling head-first into the enigmatic stare. Then her mind snapped her back in the nick of time. What was going on here? She blinked. Ms Black blinked.

  What on earth— Oh, crap. She had deflected Damián’s stupid mirror charm onto Ms Black. She was mirroring everything Astral did, or worse still, thought. All the stupid nodding back and forth should have given her a clue. The powder residue must have passed when their fingers touched. Clearly, she hadn’t gotten it all off in the washroom.

  How could this happen? Damián wasn’t even a qualified witch and his spells were junk. Had the footloose Projector magic given it some extra oomph? She tried desperately to notice any magical signature but nothing caught her attention.

  “So, do we call in the default or hold back the compound interest?” Ms Black asked, seemingly a little distracted. “What is your opinion?”

  The real Abby Black would not hesitate to call in the loan based on the previous contracts they had gone through. But this was an Abby Black befuddled by a crappy charm passed on by secondhand sorcery. She was stunned that it had worked so well.

  “We need to serve her notice first anyway.” She automatically defended Miss Shine, calmly, even though on the inside, she was close to hysterical. She blinked, then reminded herself not to do that because blinking meant something.

  Sure enough, Ms Black blinked back at her.

  She nodded and caught herself. Stop nodding. Stop blinking. Stop everything. Don’t move.

  They sat in silence, still as statues, before Astral realized doing nothing was not going to help, either. Abby Black was mirroring her like a possessed puppet. How could she get out of this? Talk business. That’s what she was here for. She’d act normal and talk business and slide out of the door…please don’t let Ms Black follow.

  “Section 9.3.1a has a requirement for an arrears notice to be served thirty days in advance.” She pointed at the small print and nodded before she could stop herself. But it had become a compulsive tic now.

  Ms Black blinked, Ms Black nodded, and Ms Black stood. “Okay. She gets an arrears notice. We’ll give her more time.”

  Astral felt a surge of relief for Miss Shine. She let out a deep sigh. Even if she had inadvertently passed an innocuous persuasive charm, the outcome was something good. Ms Black had been encouraged to act out of the norm, in that she was trying to be even-handed. For all her blood-in-the-boardroom reputation, Abby Black, deep down, secretly wanted to give the single mother more time, and Astral was pleased she had inadvertently seen a kinder side to her glowering boss. It was hard to believe Damián’s charm actually worked. He was the one who should be doused in it.

  Which brought her to another problem. Projector magic was pinging off the walls in Black and Blacker and Astral couldn’t control it. Her mission was not panning out as expected and there needed to be another coven confab about it before the finance firm fell into disarray.

  Their meeting clearly over, Astral rose from her chair and began to pile her folders together. Ms Black came around the table and stood beside her. They were inches apart. Astral looked up, surprised at Ms Black’s proximity, and found herself gazing into irises so dark they seemed to trap light. She was so close she could practically count each thick, sooty eyelash—if she had a couple of years to spare. It might even be time well spent. No, it would definitely be time well spent.

  Unless…her bubble burst and her breath hitched. She’d been wrong. She’d been too lax, too careless. Ms Black was the critter after all and Damián’s stupid charm had alerted her to Astral’s true identity. Abby Black was about to suck out all her witching power. And she’d be so disappointed.

  Except Ms Black seemed a little thick-headed and confused. There was an instance of hesitation. The feeling of threat drained away as Astral’s concern grew. Was Ms Black going to faint? She swayed on her feet. This wasn’t devilish, crittery behaviour. Abby Black was tanglefoot on magic.

  Astral reached out to steady her, except Abby reached for her first. One hand clamped on Astral’s shoulder, the other cupped her chin with long cool fingers, and she pulled Astral closer and kissed her.

  And Hecate’s toes, Astral wanted her to.

  Despite her ice-block personality, Abby Black’s kiss was searing and Astral’s blood roared in her ears. Her hair permed. Her toes curled, scrunching inside her sensible work shoes until they pinched against leather. Her knees sagged, and every muscle took on the consistency of a ragdoll’s. Not that she cared. She was breathless and dizzy, in a world of intense sensual pleasure. None of the three kisses she’d experienced before had been like this. Tingles ran up and down her spine, across the backs of her legs, fluttering across her belly. Oh, my blazing cauldrons. It was a wonderful, magical, perfect kiss. So perfect that it couldn’t really be happening. This cannot be real. Her brain threw out its last coherent thought before it fell over, twitching.

  Abby leaned against her. The heat of her body burned. Astral stumbled backwards and whacked her hip against the table. The pile of folders slipped and scattered over their feet. Astral snapped out of the kiss. She broke away and stooped, fumbling for the folders, not daring to look up. What must Ms Black be thinking? Poor, bedazzled fool tricked into a kiss. Which meant she herself had wanted the kiss because they were both under a mirroring spell gone terribly wrong. Oh, Hecate. What mess was this?

  When Astral righted herself, panicking about what to do next, she found Ms Black sitting behind her desk hard at work, her face a polished mask of indifference. For her, nothing untoward had happened. There had been no kiss. The only business occurring here had been real business. The business of the day. The charm had fizzled out like a cheap firework. She should be pleased. Instead she was… well, she didn’t know how she felt, but she didn’t like the jumble of incoherent emotions.

  “Um, Ms Black,” she said, deciding to fall back on something she understood.

  Abby looked up, and something might have flickered in her gaze but Astral couldn’t be sure.

  “I told you yesterday that I enjoy baking, and you said that you have been known to indulge in a bit of bread now and again, so I brought you some.” She picked up the bag and removed the tightly wrapped loaf and set it on the table. “If you find it’s not to your liking, you can leave it in the kitchen for others to enjoy. I won’t take it personally. People have different tastes, after all.” And she had no idea how she was so brave about this and so able to sound so normal and conversational.

  She gathered up the folders, aware of the sudden cramp in her chest, and politely excused herself and left.

  Chapter 6

  Astral hurried back to her desk and avoided eye contact with everyone, still reeling from what had happened. A quick glance at the wall clock surprised her. How long had she been in Abby’s office? It was after four o’clock. The late hour suited her very well, because she wanted to get home as fast as possible.

  Fergal was nowhere to be seen, and the office had fallen into a quiet, late afternoon torpor. Astral pulled her phone out of her bag and called Dulcie.

  “Hi, Astral.” Her friend’s voice was as calm and reassuring as always.

  “Could Damián’s charm make someone kiss me?” she asked in a low voice, not that anyone was close enough to listen. “As in, confuse them enough to like me that way?”

  “What? Kiss you? What in Hecate is going on?”

  “Yes. Kiss me. Could the charm make someone do that?”

  “And who exactly have you been kissing?” There was an excited squeaking in the background Astral could only assume was Damián eavesdropping.

  “My boss,” Astral said, nearly breathless.

  “Your boss?” Dulcie’s tone hardened. “What did he do?”

  “She. My boss is
a she and—” There was a tremendous crash at the other end of the line, followed by a shriek from Damián.

  “Dulcie? Dulcie?” Astral’s voice rose in alarm. “What’s happening?”

  She imagined the shattering of the shop window. Something coming through it, like a tank or a petrol bomb, or maybe an invading zombie army. She listened as the phone was fumbled, dropped, possibly kicked, and then Dulcie’s distant but strident voice came through loud and clear. “For Hecate’s sake, Damián, stop squealing like a scalded newt and go get the broom.” Pause. “A woman?” she squawked into Astral’s ear, her voice loud and discordant.

  “You dropped it,” Damián bleated in the background. “You get the broom. I don’t want to miss a word.”

  “And you work here—at least for the next five minutes,” Dulcie snapped back. “Clean this mess up.”

  “Dulcie, what’s happening?” Astral asked.

  “I dropped a fifty-quid glass vase. Luckily, the hundred quid’s worth of Black Baccara roses weren’t in it.” She sounded rattled. “A woman?” she said again.

  “Yes. My boss. Abby Black is one of the Black and Blacker Blacks.”

  “I knew it,” Damián crowed in the background. “I totally knew it.” Astral could hear the scratch of glass against linoleum, which was probably Damián sweeping the mess up. “You owe me five quid, Dulcie Domum.”

  “Damned if I do. This is your stupid mirror charm sexually confusing everyone. Thank Hec you never loosed it in the shop, because we’d be all over the national news.”

  “Don’t pin this on me,” he replied. “Astral owns her own sexuality, which seems to be as confused as everything else around her.”

  “Tell him I’m turning him into a mucous membrane as soon as my wand grows back,” Astral said curtly.

  “What’s that?” Damián called out.

  “She’s offering you a lifetime promotion,” Dulcie told him. “And you missed a bit. I don’t want my customers stepping on glass.”