An Elemental Witch

by R D Martin

  The troll’s whimper drew her back to her surroundings. Its angry glare was replaced with one of such abject terror Bella thought the troll would have clawed its way straight through the tile if it could. Guilt cut through her anger like a knife, and the bright blue arcs faded from existence as she released her hold on the magic.

  Turning off the water, she did her best to soothe the troll. Lowering herself to the floor, she beckoned the creature over, trying once again to show she didn’t mean any harm. Unlike when it had hesitated before, this time it was fearful. She was patient, though, partly out of understanding, but more because she wanted it gone.

  Exiting the bathroom a few minutes later, she held the troll wrapped in a towel and pressed as firm to her chest as a newborn babe. Setting it on the small kitchen table, she turned to take her ire out on her familiar, but paused at the troll’s piteous mewing.

  “All right, little guy. I guess it is time to go.” Walking across the room, she unlocked and lifted the kitchen window. Bits of old paint flecked off as it slid up in unused tracks, giving access to the fire escape outside. Stepping back, she waved her hand between the window and the troll, hoping it would get the message. As slow witted as the creature was, even it recognized the escape offered.

  With a hoot of excitement, the troll jumped from the table, the blue towel billowing behind it. Scrabbling across the floor, it made one more leap and cleared the windowsill, landing on the rusted fire escape beyond with a muted thud. Giving her one last glance, it swung itself over the railing and disappeared into the night.

  Finally rid of it, Bella slid the window closed and turned her attention to the other two occupants of her apartment. Cat, sitting on the living room couch, regaled Samantha with daring tales of his exploits and adventures while the young girl stared up at the feline from her seat on the floor…

  Sighing, Bella dropped into a nearby chair. Waves of exhaustion washed over her and she allowed Cat’s sing-song voice to lull her into a quiet stupor. As the drowsiness took over, she thought there would be time enough tomorrow to tell off her familiar. It had been, she admitted, an adventurous night. She needed to remind Samantha not to tell anyone about it, but that too could wait. With a yawn Bella leaned down over the table and, resting her head on her arms, stared at the girl and cat. As though sensing her gaze, the animal turned its head and stared right back, not even pausing in its story.

  Yes, she thought, she’d have to do something about him, but in the morning. The last things she heard as she drifted to sleep were Samantha’s laughter and Cat telling her what it felt like to jump on the back of a dragon. A dragon, she thought. As if.

  Chapter 2

  Standing in line, explaining her order to the barista for the third time, Bella couldn’t help feeling a sense of frustration. Not toward the counter girl, though. It was obvious the young brunette had an intelligence level equal to a jar of mayonnaise. No, her frustration wasn’t with the barista, it was with her boss.

  Working for the Milo Insurance Agency, or at least a local branch of the international firm, was supposed to be part of a fulfilling career path, one encouraging her to help people in need. After graduating from college, something she was one of the first people in her family to do, she had accepted a position with the company. In her imagination, she’d seen herself arriving at the steps of a burned-out house, the family covered in soot from the fire, parents despondent and clutching children tight to their chests. As she approached, she imagined seeing the spark of hope in their eyes, once beaten down and all but extinguished, light up again. She would experience the joy of telling them they would have their home rebuilt and everything they owned replaced. That was the dream.

  Instead, she got coffee.

  Not that she couldn’t do the job. Graduating with honors with a keen grasp of numbers, she’d excelled in math and science, much to the pleasure of her teachers. On any particular day she arrived early, one of the first people in the building, in fact, and started waking the office up. She turned on copy machines and sorted after-hour faxes by department. In the break room, she made coffee and cleaned out the fridge. Time permitting, it wasn’t uncommon to bring in pastries, cookies, or other snacks, just to make the day a little better. Having done all that, she got down to actual work.

  To call what she did exciting would be an overstatement of such magnitude as to imply anthills were just small mountains. It took a special mind to work in insurance, unless the individual worked in sales. Insurance salesmen were a strange group best left alone. Given the chance, they would try to sell ice to Eskimos and sand to desert nomads. Not because they were a mean or spiteful bunch, but because they enjoyed the excitement. She much preferred working behind the scenes with unchanging numbers and a most definite lack of excitement.

  There were times, though, if she were honest with herself, some excitement would be nice. Sitting in a cubicle with gray walls, splitting her attention between rows of numbers on spreadsheets and a computer so old it surprised her it worked, she sometimes wondered how dreams of helping people had led to this. If she squinted while tilting her head, she could almost see she was helping someone somewhere, but mostly it seemed the only thing she helped was the company. She’d brought this to her supervisor’s attention during a staff meeting.

  Had Bella been a more pessimistic person, she would have thought the hell of her workday was retaliation for speaking up. Her supervisor was Jonathan Browser. A fat, balding man who tried to distract from the lack of hair on his head using a bad combover and growing a beard so scraggly birds wouldn’t use it to build their nests. Worse, someone brought in the cinnamon rolls she’d left in the break room and he was eating his way through the entire tray.

  After a coworker finished his presentation detailing the ratio of claims accepted to claims rejected, Browser’s face split into a wide grin, sprinkling crumbs into his beard and onto his shirt.

  “How can that ratio be so low?” she’d asked. “Isn’t our job to help people? If we’re denying all those claims, how can we?”

  Innocent as the question may have been, it still spread a blanket of silence around the room. Looking at her colleagues, she missed the shift in her supervisor’s face. The happy piggy look disappeared, replaced by a cold and calculating one.

  “Ms. Flores.” His voice was low and harsh from too many years of unhealthy habits. “Our job here is not to pay out hard-earned money to every Joe and Sally with a sob story. Our job is to ensure the company stays solvent, so in the unfortunate event a policy holder has a valid claim, we have the money to pay them.”

  “I understand, sir,” she said, sinking back in her chair under his harsh gaze. “But there must be a higher percent of valid claims, shouldn’t there? I mean, I know some claims will be frivolous, but according to these numbers”—she waved her hand at the PowerPoint presentation—“we’re only paying out one of every twelve claims.” Looking at her colleagues, hoping to gain support for her position, she saw nothing but dead eyes.

  “Ms. Flores, I understand you’re young and inexperienced in the nuances of the real world. However, your naivety doesn’t have a place in this business. We have a duty. A duty to the company, a duty to policy holders and a duty to society, ensuring money only goes where it’s supposed to. Your job is to review each claim on its merits and ensure it conforms to the policy. Any deviation, regardless of how small, should constitute an immediate denial. If the policy holder disagrees with our decision, a process is in place for them to appeal.” Ending his lecture, Browser sat back, taking deep breaths and wiping sweat beading on his forehead.

  From that moment on she was a pariah in her office, beginning with a mountain of unfinished cases reassigned to her. As the pile of red folders overtook the space on her desk, she tried to put a stop to it, but her complaints fell on deaf ears. Some of her coworkers shrugged before returning to their own work. Others just ignored her.

  As if tackling the growing mountain of work wasn’t enough, Browser soon began
asking her to complete different tasks not strictly business related but that were, as he put it, “good for company morale.” The thing digging into Bella the most was none of it was far enough out of line to report to Human Resources. Nor could she go over Browser’s head to his manager. The only options left open were to quit, something she’d never do, or to struggle on, hoping to see the abuse end someday.

  To be fair, working at the company had one very handsome perk, though calling him a perk was a massive understatement. The perk’s name was William. Often referred to as The New Guy, sometimes referred to as The Cute One, and the subject of more than one woman’s romantic fantasy, he was, in her opinion, what every man should be but so often failed at. Tall, broad shouldered with a smile made to break hearts, he had an easygoing manner that was almost infectious. When she ran into him in the break room, an accident she’d planned more than once, the encounter always left her feeling as though the sun shone a little brighter and everything wrong with the world was just a little less so. Unfortunately, he seemed to have that effect with every woman in the office. Even the older ladies acted like giggling schoolgirls with him around. Dealing with that kind of drama was not a great way to get out from under Browser’s thumb. He was a definite look-but-don’t-touch kind of guy. Not that she hadn’t tried, however, but every time she did, something seemed to go wrong. It was almost as if the universe was against them getting together.

  Bella grimaced a few of the worst memories. She’d made extra lunch one time, hoping to convince him to share. Instead, she’d managed to spill the entire thing on him. Another time, she’d belched after drinking a soda too fast. It was embarrassing enough when she thought she was alone, but when she turned around, he was staring wide eyed at her as though she’d grown another head. Her latest run-in with him had been exactly that. After pouring herself a hot cup of coffee, she’d turned around and nearly doused him with it. At this point, she was surprised he didn’t leave the room the moment she walked in.

  “Miss? Your order.” The barista’s high-pitched voice cut through Bella’s thoughts like glass. “Eight double talls, three black extra sweet, four light and sweet and one black.”

  Bella sighed. Sometimes it just wasn’t worth the effort.

  “No. Again, it’s three light and sweet and four black extra…” Bella paused. Fighting a barista with more career growth potential than she had right now just wasn’t worth it. “You know what, never mind.” Picking up the trays of coffee she turned and, ignoring the glares of other customers, made toward the exit. Sliding between other patrons in the small shop, she barely heard the barista call her a witch.

  If you only knew. Pushing open the front door, she stepped into the howling wind and let it slam the glass door behind her.

  Chapter 3

  Without question, Monday through Friday was a form of torture that ought to be outlawed. The only thing making the week bearable was her volunteer work at Karina’s soup kitchen.

  Since moving to the city almost two years ago, it had become habit to explore the world around her apartment, looking for those little hole-in-the-wall places she’d always heard of. The type of places known by locals and never shown by online searches. So far, she’d found a bakery making gigantic cookies and a sushi restaurant. She tried to stay away from the bakery, though she was drawn back time and again by the sweet smells drifting from its ovens. As for the sushi restaurant, she could only eat there so many times a month, much to Cat’s annoyance.

  It was during her hunt for new and interesting places that she heard of the Red Door Diner. The diner specialized in country cooking and, once she’d been in the city for nearly half a year, she’d decided it was time to try something to remind her of home. It didn’t take her long to find the diner. However, standing in front of the faded red door, she paused. Though she’d considered herself a city girl by then, the smells wafting through cracks in the door made her homesick even as they caused her mouth to water. As she reached out to push the door open, a hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back.

  Whirling about, digging in her coat pocket, she fumbled for the small orange tube kept tucked in there for emergencies. Her assailant, a woman with bright pink hair and enough freckles on her face to play connect-the-dots, leaped back, probably assuming she was reaching for Pepper Spray. What she gripped in her pocket was far less dangerous than mace. It was a stored spell created to freeze everyone in the area for a short time, giving her a chance to escape.

  “Whoa there,” said the pink-haired woman, holding up her hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just thought I should warn you.” Seeing Bella’s confused look, the woman continued. “The guy running that joint, Arnie, he’s a real scumbag. The food used to be good, but he just fired his best cook. Eat there now and you’re gonna get messed up something awful. Just thought you should know.”

  The woman spun on her heel and walked away without another word. As it turned out, Bella should have listened to the warning. Not only was the food bad, but the few bites she’d choked down before leaving had her hugging the toilet as she threw up everything she’d ever eaten.

  A week later Bella ran into the pink-haired woman while grocery shopping, though this time her locks were styled with streaks of electric blue. Walking up to her, Bella introduced herself, and after exchanging names, she relayed her dining experience.

  “Not surprised,” Karina said while sniffing a bright red tomato. Placing it back on the pile, she picked up one a little less ripe. “Arnie is a shit cook but thinks he knows everything. He fired Em because she couldn’t move as fast as she used to. What do you expect of an eighty-year-old woman? With her gone, the food went downhill fast. I tried, best as I could anyway, but the recipes were all Em’s. When I told him off for firing her, he didn’t take it so well and fired me too. I was just pickin’ up my last check when I ran into you.”

  The easy going and friendly nature of the woman drew her in, and before the two knew it, they’d been talking for more than an hour. Realizing the time, they exchanged numbers and parted with an invitation from Karina to visit her new kitchen.

  Arriving at the address the next day, she was surprised to find a soup kitchen with a line of homeless stretching out the door and around the corner. Rows of long tables set up in the center of a very large room were filled with people shoveling down their food as though afraid someone would take it. People laughed and shouted, enjoying what might have been their first meal in days.

  “Hey, girl. Over here.”

  Bella turned her attention to the front of the line where Karina stood ladling food from a heating tray.

  “Grab an apron, will ya? We need some help putting the food out.” She nodded toward the wall on her right where kitchen items, including a number of aprons, hung. Shuffling over and grabbing one, Bella joined her friend on the line.

  “Take this,” Karina said, handing her a pair of tongs. “One piece of chicken per plate. Put the bread on top. I gotta get back in the kitchen.” Turning, the woman walked through a set of double doors, disappearing from view.

  Bella’s head swam. She’d come for a meal and to hang out with a new friend, not to volunteer in a soup kitchen. Though the way she was roped into this could hardly be called volunteering. Her thoughts on the subject were interrupted by the grunt of a dirty, bedraggled woman holding an empty plate in front of her. One piece of chicken, put the roll on top, repeat.

  It didn’t take Bella long to get into a groove and time flew by, only interrupted by short intervals when empty food trays were replaced by full ones. Over time, the line of homeless dwindled from a flood to a trickle and the last of the chicken disappeared. Exhausted from standing on her feet the entire time, she slouched in a chair, trying to decide how she felt about this adventure. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the plate of food slid in front of her until Karina asked if she planned to eat.

  “Wonderful, isn’t it? I mean being here, not the food. I know that’s good. I made it,” Karina sai
d, tearing into her own plate.

  “I… I’ve… Is it always like this?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. Sometimes worse, sometimes better. There’s a lot of folks who ain’t got nothing.”

  “I didn’t know there were so many homeless around here.”

  “Oh, hon. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Folks coming here are the locals. There are maybe a dozen places like this in the city and some of them serve two or three times what we do. We’re pretty lucky. We’re able to feed almost everyone who comes here. Some places can’t.”

  She had a hard time imagining the number of people Karina described. Bella had seen her share of homeless in her six months living here but never imagined the problem to be so large.

  “How’s the food?”

  “Huh? Sorry, what?”

  “The food? How is it? I invited you to come for some of my cooking, didn’t I?”

  “Oh, yeah. The food’s great.” And it was.

  “You’re mad, right? Mad you got roped into helping?”

  Bella made some noises to deny it, but if she was being honest with herself, she was a little upset.

  “I’m sorry,” Karina continued, waving away her denials. “And I don’t blame you either. For being mad, that is. We usually have more volunteers here. Housewives with nothing better to do. Church folk. That sort. It’s just things seem to go wrong so often around here, a good number of them just stopped coming. I honestly didn’t try to trick you into working, though I’m glad you did.”

  After a while, the good food and conversation sank in and she found herself glad she’d come too. When Bella returned the next week, surprising Karina, she’d experienced the same euphoria all over again. In the blink of an eye a year and a half had passed, and every weekend found her at the front of the soup line, Karina managing the kitchen, and a line of people stretching out the door and around the corner.