This Strange Witchery

by Michele Hauf

  With that, the cicada took to flight, a slow journey that wobbled her over the salt circle and higher into the air until Tor could no longer see her wings glint with moonlight.

  “That was freakin’ cool.”

  He turned to the smiling witch beside him. “You’re alive?”

  “Of course I’m alive. What? Did you think I was dead?”

  “Yes. The heart. When Charlotte squeezed it...”

  “It felt like my heart was being squeezed. It’s possible every witch in the world felt it. But if I’m alive, that means we’re all alive.” He set the heart on her lap and it began to glow. “You did it, Tor. You saved the world.”

  “I didn’t save anything. You’re the witch with the amazing dark magic. You gave your sister peace.”

  “And you gave Charlotte peace with the sacrifice of your need to be safe from ghosts. We both did all right.”

  “That we did.” He kissed her, then stretched onto his back to lie beside her.

  She tilted her head onto his shoulder, one hand gently clasped about the pulsing heart. “I love you. Is that weird to say? We’ve known each other just a few days, but it feels...real.”

  “It is real. As real as the cicada that landed on your chest and made me understand that my mom is always watching over me. I love you, too, Mel.”

  They clasped hands and looked up at the star-speckled sky. It was difficult to see stars when in Paris. One had to travel out to the country, away from the city lights. And tonight dazzled with a thick constellation of starlight, with the moon as the spotlight.

  Mel turned and looked at the side of his face while he stared up at the stars. “You know something? I don’t feel all that dark right now. I actually feel pretty good that I was able to help my mom and sister. But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “And I couldn’t have given Charlotte her freedom without your support. And this.” He waggled the quartz talisman above them. “It cleansed her of the evil that had been inside her since before her death. Amazing.”

  “You do know that a talisman is just an object. It’s the belief of the owner that provides the real magic.”

  “I did not know that.”

  “You did it all by yourself, Tor. With or without a chunk of crystal. It was all you.”

  It was an interesting concept, and it would take him a while to accept it. Tor hooked the crystal at his belt loop, then took Mel’s hand again. “We should date,” he said. “We’re kind of perfect for one another. You balance out my extreme side.”

  “You tolerate my goofy side.”

  “You make amazing smoothie bowls.”

  “You are a fashion rock star. I’ve never been so attracted to a man in a tweed vest in my life.”

  “You have weird pets.”

  “You have OCD.”

  “You like to talk to flowers and sing to the sky.”

  “You have a talent you don’t recognize.”

  “I recognize it. I’m just...” He sighed. Though the vial tucked in his pocket was virtually weightless, he felt it heavily upon his heart now. “There is that goal of mine.”

  “I know. We both know. And we’re ready for it. Like it or not, it’s how the universe wants us to be. We should get on the road. It’s late. Or rather, early.”

  Tor checked his watch. “Really? 4:00 a.m.?”

  He had four hours before his interview.

  As the two stood and turned to the van, Tor picked up the abandoned crystal tiara and put it on Mel’s head. “Wear this. Always. Sparkles and unicorns. It’s you.” He kissed her. “I’m not tired. I think I’ll head home for a quick shower and straight on to the interview.”

  “Sounds like a plan. But we have one problem to take care of before we go anywhere.”

  “What’s that?”

  She pointed toward the van, where a werewolf crouched on the top and growled at them.

  Chapter 26

  Mel had just enough energy to summon a repulsion spell, and combined with the infusion of dark magic she’d worked, she had never felt more powerful. However, when she thrust out her hand toward the werewolf standing on top of the van and opened her mouth to recite the spell—Tor grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him, effectively obliterating any magical energies that may have zapped the predator.

  “Holster it, Mel. I know that wolf.”

  “You do?” She squinted at the beast now crouched and peering at them with big gold eyes. How could a person determine one werewolf from another? They were all hairy and ugly, and their heads were wolflike while their bodies were sort of still human, except übermuscly and—so much hair!

  “That’s Christian Hart. You met him earlier.”

  “Oh.” She put down her casting hand. “You sure?”

  “Hart!” Tor waved to the beast.

  The werewolf jumped from the van, landed in a crouch, then stood. As he strode toward them, he shifted in a matter of seconds. His head grew smaller and human shaped, and arms and legs conformed to the normal human length. Hair disappeared from his body to reveal pale skin and...no clothes.

  “Whoa!” Tor put a hand before Mel’s eyes, but she tugged it away. Because that was a sight. “Bloke, would you mind the lady?”

  “Sorry.” The wolf, now completely in human form, covered his erect penis with both hands. “That happens when I come back to were shape. Clothing never shifts with us. It’s just the way things work.”

  Tor slid off his vest and handed it over to the man. Hart took it. It would not wrap completely about his waist, but he was able to hold it before him and clasp it at his hips.

  “What are you doing out here?” Tor asked. “Hunting grounds?”

  “You know it. If I’d known you were headed this way, I might have gone the opposite direction. What’s going on here?”

  “You didn’t see the zombies?” Mel asked. The moonlight had a certain way of highlighting the man’s incredible muscles, and she pulled in a sigh at the flex of his biceps. Did they glisten? Ahem. “They almost killed Tor.”

  Tor cleared his throat. “I had things under control.”

  “I thought you were going to stop the dead things from wandering about?” Hart asked.

  “We did!” Mel hugged Tor with glee. “It’s all over now. Hecate’s heart has served its purpose.”

  “Yes, but we still have to secure that thing under lock and chain,” Tor said, then asked the werewolf, “Did you ever track down the vampire from the yard?”

  “Crying over a box of watermelon. Ha! That was a sight. He’s been dealt with. But...I can still feel it.” Hart pointed to the heart Mel hugged to her chest. “And other things do, too.” He looked over a shoulder, scanning the darkness. “You two should probably get the hell out of here while the getting is good. Might be more zombies...” The werewolf sniffed the air. “That is the rankest scent. Maybe just one though.”

  “Then you can handle that. You’ve experience.” Tor clasped Mel’s hand. “Let’s give CJ a call and tell him we’re on our way with the heart.”

  “He won’t appreciate being woken up so early.”

  “It’s either that or the zombie apocalypse.”

  “A phone call it is!” Mel started toward the van, yet managed a look back at the werewolf. Yep. Nice ass. “We’ll have to meet when there aren’t zombies or revenants, Hart!” she called as she crossed in front of the van to the passenger side.

  “I agree! Good luck to the both of you. Uh, Tor, you want your vest back?”

  “Nope. You keep it.”

  “Doesn’t fit.” The wolf rubbed it back and forth across his groin.

  “Really not interested in wearing it again,” Tor said. With a wave, he sent off the werewolf, who dropped the vest and, as he ran toward the darkness, shifted to a four-legged wolf.

  Tor slid inside and start
ed up the van.

  “I could wash the vest for you,” Mel offered.

  “I have others. And did I notice you were drooling over a certain wolf?”

  “Well, come on. He was naked!”

  Tor chuckled. “The guy does have some muscle on him.” He wrinkled a brow as he thought about that statement. “So! On to the Archives. You call your uncle. And I’ll prepare to face the dark witch’s wrath yet again. Good times tonight. Good times.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Certainly Jones met them at the Council headquarters, which housed the Archives down a long, narrow alleyway that no one would ever suspect led to anything so fantastical as an organization that collected magical objects and was dedicated to policing paranormals of all breeds and species. And that was exactly the way they preferred it.

  CJ strode down the alleyway, stopping Tor and Mel before they got close to the entrance. Mel figured her uncle wasn’t about to let her get inside the building again. Fair enough.

  She handed over the plastic container, and CJ whistled as he shook his head. “I can’t believe you slipped this out without me noticing.”

  “Yes, well, I do have my talents.”

  “Thievery?”

  “It did serve a purpose. Mom is now safe. Our family can finally begin to mend.”

  CJ glanced to Tor, who was looking the worse for wear. Blood was caked on his brow. A slash in his trousers revealed thigh, and his frayed shirt would have to be trashed, but he was smiling. Mel squeezed his hand.

  “What repercussions should we expect?” CJ asked as he tucked the container under an arm. “Where did you perform the spell? What, exactly, was the result?”

  Tor reeled off the latitude and longitude of the crossroads. “Just east of Versailles.”

  CJ nodded. “Our family land.”

  “I was able to talk to Amaranthe and get her to forgive Mom,” Mel provided. “Then I gave her peace. And then Tor saved the heart from getting crushed by his dead girlfriend.”

  “Friend, not girlfriend.”

  “Crushed?” CJ rubbed his throat. “That explains a lot. A few hours ago, I thought I was suffocating. Was trying to figure who was working a spell on me. I warded myself quickly, but it lingered.”

  “That was the heart. It was almost destroyed. But it’s all good now.” Mel rapped the plastic box with her knuckles. “Put this in a steel box and throw away the key.”

  “Your visiting privileges have been revoked,” CJ admonished.

  “Oh, come on! I love researching spells in the stacks. That’s how I learn. I promise I won’t ever steal from you again.”

  CJ’s look did not indicate trust. “I will consider it. But at the very least, you’ll be grounded from the Archives for a good six months.”

  Mel pouted. “Fair enough.”

  “You call your dad?” CJ asked.

  “Texted him. Didn’t want to wake him. I would have texted you, but Hecate’s heart really does need to be put away. Now.”

  Tor glanced behind them down the alleyway. “Yes, now.”

  “Got it.” CJ shook a finger at Mel. “I don’t approve of your methods, Lissa, but I am glad you got the job done. Your poor mom and dad needed this. You stepped up. You’ve done the family proud.”

  “Thank you. But I, uh...”

  CJ tucked the plastic container under an arm and gave her his full attention.

  “I’m not so sure I’m cut out to be a dark witch,” Mel offered. “It’s not me. At all. But Dad would be so disappointed—”

  “No, he won’t.” Her uncle clapped a hand onto her shoulder and bent to meet her gaze. “TJ loves you, Lissa. No matter what kind of magic you practice. And hell, maybe the family needs a light witch to balance out the dark, eh? Vika once practiced only light. I say you should honor the witch you are and don’t try to be something you are not. You want me to talk to your dad about it?”

  “Thanks, CJ.” She hugged him, then tapped the container. “We should leave you to tuck that away. I’ve seen more than enough zombies in the past few days for a lifetime, thank you very much.”

  CJ extended a hand to Tor, who shook it. “Thank you. You’ve kept my niece alive. The Joneses owe you for that.”

  “You’ll get my bill,” Tor said.

  CJ disappeared into the building, and the twosome strolled toward the van, hand in hand. Tor checked his watch. “Ah, hell.”

  “What?”

  “It’s already seven thirty?”

  “Your interview is at eight.”

  “I don’t have time to run home and change.” They stopped at the van, and he opened the door for Mel and helped her up inside.

  “Does that mean you’re going to skip it?” she asked.

  “I would never miss an appointment.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders dropped. She wasn’t going to mention the memory potion. She’d seen him tuck the vial back in his shirt pocket. She’d lost him after all.

  Her heart fell in her chest. But she lifted her head and did her best to keep back the tears.

  “Besides...” Tor reached up to adjust the tiara on her head. “I know exactly how this is going down, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  But she wouldn’t mind missing it. Mel nodded and forced a smile. “Onward?”

  “Buckle up. We have to make the city limits through the crazy morning rush-hour traffic.”

  * * *

  The office building was situated in the center of La Défense district, nestled amidst the tallest structures in Paris. It gave off the closest atmosphere to New York, Tor had once decided of the busy metropolitan area.

  Having easily passed by the snoozing security guard in the building lobby, he now strolled down an aisle between cubicles that led toward the conference room, where the receptionist had directed him and where the meeting was to take place. As he passed the desks, workers turned to stare, openmouthed, hands to chests. A few gasps were audible.

  When he neared the room, which was open, he straightened his tie and slid his hand down the length of it—which stopped midchest thanks to the zombie who had managed to slash a claw through the imported silk.

  Shit happened.

  “Monsieur Demengoet?” He entered the conference room and spied the bald man sitting at the end of a long table with a few file folders spread out before him. “Torsten Rindle. At your service.”

  Tor pulled out a chair. He set the machete he’d had tilted over a shoulder onto the glossy wood table, placed the gas mask he’d hooked at his belt next to it, then sat, put up his shoes on the table and offered a smile to the stunned interviewer.

  “Monsieur Rindle, what is this?”

  “Uh, the machete? It’s standard gear for beheading vampires and zombies. It’s sweet.” He patted the weapon, then glanced out the doorway. Down the hallway, a bunch of heads observed, like gophers popping up from their holes. “It’s a tool of my trade.”

  “This is highly uncalled-for. How did you get past security?”

  “I strolled in. Don’t worry. I’m not going to use it here. I just got off a job. As you can see. A bit untidy, but you know, that’s what the job requires. And I am a man who goes all-in, full-out, whenever he’s called to do the task. Would you like a list of my skills? Not only am I an expert with the blade, but my marksman skills are exemplary. I’m also keen on the chemical compositions required for proper crime-scene cleanup. I can twist any story to make your head spin. And...” He tugged a vial out from his shirt pocket and set it on the table before him. “I’m not afraid to use magic when necessary.”

  The man sputtered and slammed the file folder shut. “I don’t know what sort of charade you are trying, monsieur, but I have had enough. Vampires and werewolves? You are a lunatic!”

  “Far from it. I am a necessary asset to society. I make sure people like you don’t believe in all th
e bad things that could happen to them, especially the bad paranormal things. If I didn’t do my job? There would be chaos.”

  “Then why are you seeking a new job?”

  Tor leaned forward onto his elbows. “You know, I thought I needed a change. To walk away from that which I have embraced all my life. Call it a ghost story. A silly fear. And toss in a bit of love story, as well. But I’ve overcome that, thanks to a helpful, weird and breathtakingly gorgeous witch.”

  “A witch—”

  “She made me understand that I do what I do because I can, and because I enjoy it. Which I do. Can’t lie. Taking out a clutch of zombies is incredibly satisfying. You’ve never seen something until you’ve watched a dead thing dechunk.”

  “I am going to call security.”

  “No need.” Tor stood and propped the machete over his shoulder. “I just had to come here and put myself in this atmosphere. To know that it wasn’t right. And it’s not. I could never function enclosed in one of those confining beige cubicles. I need to remain freelance and ready for action.”

  He picked up the gas mask.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking. If this guy is so good with spin, how’s he going to spin an entire office building into believing he was never here? That he didn’t march in with a big-ass machete and make a spectacle of himself?”

  The interviewer merely huffed.

  Tor clasped the vial. “Sometimes a guy has to rely on witchcraft. Thanks for your time, Monsieur Demengeot. Just hope you never see me in the future. Because the only way that’ll happen is if the big bads have come for you. And if they do? I’ll know. Have a nice day.”

  With that, Tor pulled the gas mask over his head and face. Next, he flicked the cork out of the vial and then waved it around in the room. As he strolled back down the hallway, he waved the vial before and behind him. Everyone dodged this weird action. One man fainted.

  “Stay safe!” he called as he grabbed the door handle. Tossing the vial into the garbage can broke the thin glass. The spell would suffuse the room and overtake everyone in the vicinity with a memory relaxer that should erase what they believed to be paranormal. And since he was toeing the line of all things strange and paranormal, it should obliterate memory of his visit, as well. “Fight the good fight!”