Chapter 2
Being the town witch probably wasn’t my smartest move. I’m in too deep now to turn back. For the past five years, I’ve played the part, read the cards, and pretended to spell people. When I moved into my sister’s house four months ago, I figured it wasn’t time to reinvent myself.
None of it is real, though. I thought it’d be easy to fool people since I’m an actual witch. Turns out, it’s a lot harder than I imagined. Doing witchy things while not accidentally doing something actually witchy hurts my soul in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
It’s times like these I wish I could curse humans.
The man in front of me gives me the ick.
I’m pretty sure he deserves boils or bedbugs.
Something to put him in his place. I plaster on a fake smile, reminding myself I don’t know this guy from the man in the moon.
He could be fine and is just having some bad luck.
I wave my hand around, my large sleeves billowing around me. “You’d like to summon the spirits? For what purpose, my child?”
“I need to convince my girlfriend to take me back. I’ve tried everything else, but she’s not caving. Figured this might work.”
“I’ll need more information…in order to summon the right spirits. Why did she break up with you?” Because I know she broke up with him. It takes everything in me not to show my emotions and keep the ethereal voice I adopt for these interactions.
He winces, then covers it with a smirk. He hems and haws, finally settling on the ridiculous excuse of lying to her.
Which is code for he cheated. Definitely an asshole.
Even if I desperately needed the money, I wouldn’t help him.
My morals won’t let me. Now to find a way to get out of this without jeopardizing my reputation.
I may not need his money, but I still need to pay my bills.
Especially if I have to take time off soon.
“You should know, this isn’t guaranteed. Also, there are risks…for you,” I murmur.
“What kind of risks?” His voice wavers, and I sweep around him to put the round table in the middle of my front room between us.
“Oh, the usual. Boils, hauntings, unwanted attachments. Some demons like to meddle as well. Oh, and there’s a small chance your balls will shrivel up like grapes withering on the vine,” I say wistfully as I stroke the fake crystal ball. “So, shall we begin?”
I almost burst out laughing at the absolute horror blossoming across his face.
He clearly didn’t think about the consequences.
If I were to turn my witchy powers on him, I doubt I’d be able to do even half of what I said.
I’ve never even met a demon. I’m pretty sure they exist, but they don’t just pop over for tea.
“Fuck that.” He makes a break for the door, tripping over the threshold, then down the porch steps.
“Oh no. Come back,” I call softly as I pad across the floor to shut the door behind him. I flick the lock just for good measure. “Douche canoe.”
I peek out the front window, trying not to move the curtains.
The last thing I need is them gossiping more about me.
Except I’m pretty sure no one talks about when they make appointments.
I’m kind of their last resort when shit goes sideways in their life.
Thankfully, my client, if I can even call him that, is hurrying away.
He trips over the crack in my front walk, and I stifle a cackle.
He's an asshole of the highest sort. He said his name was Jeremiah, but I think that was an alias. Most people use one even if I know who they are. Living in a small town, it isn’t hard to know everyone.
Even me, who didn’t move here until recently, recognizes most of the residents.
I doubt I’ll be seeing Jeremiah around as much. Good riddance.
I collapse onto my couch and rest my head back.
There are a million things I need to do today, but I’m exhausted.
Between running this sham of a business and searching for the book, I don’t have any energy left.
I’ve spent too many months trying to track down the damn thing while keeping my powers under lock and key.
Now, I don’t think I have a choice. I’m going to have to start using some of the magic flowing through my veins to find it.
“You just had to make this hard, didn’t you?” I grumble as I push to my feet. “Never could make my life easier.”
I stomp from the living room, eyeing the closet door as I pass. There’s no use putting off going in there. I chucked most of the odds and ends of being a witch in there as soon as I got here. It was too much of a temptation to use the spells or the candles or the potions.
I could have made things easier on the townsfolk, but then they’d know I was actually a witch.
They’d blow my cover, and eventually there’d be stakes and burning, and I’m just too tired to deal with all that.
Besides, I didn’t want to use anything to find the book other than the brain rattling around in my head since the circle my sister left behind was a bust.
Should I be looking for an ancient text said to be forged within the deepest pits of Hell?
Probably not. Am I going to stop searching?
Nope. It’s the only lead I have to find my sister.
Most people, witch or human, would understand.
Then again, most of them would have good intentions when it comes to a sibling.
When I find mine, though, we’re going to have words. Very short, angry words.
I finish in the bathroom and walk by the closet again on my way to the kitchen.
I swear there’s been knocking on the other side late at night.
One time I could have sworn I heard someone cursing from inside.
I wasn’t about to check. Whatever happens in there isn’t my business.
Though, I suppose it’s about to become mine soon.
As I pop a mug of cold coffee I brewed hours ago into the microwave, there’s a knock on my front door.
My shoulders slump, and I shuffle my way around the small dining table to peer out the window overlooking my yard.
I wait, knowing my deflection spell will guide them back enough for me to see them.
When no one appears, I narrow my eyes. If the spell ran out of juice, I’m going to be pissed.
I was told it would take years of full moons before it would wear off.
There’s another thud, but I can’t figure out where it comes from.
The microwave beeps behind me, and I shake my head.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was having auditory hallucinations.
My aunt always said it ran in the family, not that I saw any evidence of it.
Didn’t spend much time around anyone other than her and my sister, though, so I suppose anything’s possible.
Our other aunt disappeared long before our parents died. Maybe the rumor started with her.
I grab my coffee, wincing at the burn the cup leaves on my fingertips, then make my way to the living room.
I struggle to haul the chair in front of the closet while holding my mug.
A heavy sigh leaves me as I plop down and stare at the door.
My nails clink against the porcelain as I contemplate how to open it.
Just turning the knob would do the trick, except I’d have to deal with the magical fallout.
I really don’t want to get knocked on my ass or spend the next seven to ten business days wallowing in bed while my magic goes haywire.
“If only I would have thought this through beforehand,” I mutter.
Except I wasn’t thinking. I was pissed and overwhelmed and beating myself up for shit out of my control.
I spent too long trying to recreate Lark’s summoning circle and figure out where she went.
By the time I gave up, I was so drained I threw everything in the closet and magicked it closed.
At that point, I thought I’d never open it again.
If I want to do it the right way, I’ll have to wait for new candles to be delivered.
Unless I want to call Jeremiah back here.
I could use some of his blood. Little problematic, I suppose.
“Welp, no time like the present.”
I push to my feet and set my mug on a side table. Cracking my knuckles, I bounce on the balls of my feet as I try to psych myself up. I have no idea what’ll happen. I can’t put it off, though. With the sun setting, I need to do this soon.
Instead, I bail, rushing from the room. For some reason, my feet carry me to the office.
At least I think it was supposed to be an office.
My sister turned it into something else completely.
I left the space as Lark did, with the half-burned candles lining the windows and the summoning circle on the floor.
I stare at the white chalk, careful not to smudge it any more than it already is. I don’t know if this is a summoning circle, which is why I need the book. It’s the only spell I know for sure is in that cursed object. I’m sure there are all other sorts of nefarious spells and potions in it.
I can’t even imagine what else Lark might have dabbled in.
She always gravitated toward subjects we weren’t supposed to.
She’d scribbled down spells late at night underneath her blankets, a flame flickering from her fingertips.
It wasn’t until I caught her sneaking a dark arts book of spells into the house that I started to get worried.
I warned her she’d go too far one day. She’d stir up shit we weren’t allowed to stir up.
And now I’m afraid she’s done exactly that. I can’t be sure, though. The only way I’ll get answers is if I can get the book, fix the circle, and follow her to wherever she went.
Finding anything else in this room isn’t possible.
I dig my nails into my palms and pull in a calming breath.
It takes me a minute to gather a bowl and one of the black candles.
I should use some oil as well, but I’m pretty sure I stuffed that in the closet.
This’ll have to do. Setting all this up might not do a damn thing.
I flip off the circle before I flounce out of the room and back to the closet.
Once I set everything up, it takes me a full minute of snapping my fingers for a soft flicker of flame to ignite the wick.
I let out a heavy sigh and roll my shoulders to ease some of the tension.
I’ve never spent so long without using my magic.
I was afraid I lost the ability. I don’t know if that’s a thing, but if could happen, it would happen to me.
“Come on,” I mutter at the fire, then remember I’m supposed to be gathering good vibes or whatever.
“Be nice and don’t knock me on my ass. I’d also prefer to keep all my hair.
Fuck me, I really should have done more research before I sealed this bitch.
Um, deliver something good. A breakthrough perhaps.
Yeah, that’d be great. I’d rather not gallivant all over by myself searching for this. ”
I swallow hard, then wrap my cold hand around the knob.
Heat sears through my palm and I attempt to yank it away.
A tendril of purple shadows winds its way around my wrist and snakes up my arm.
Despite it not hurting, my chest still tightens.
The spell I used must have strengthened over time. It’s the only explanation.
Something pounds on the wood from inside and the door violently rattles.
I grip the knob tighter and squeeze my eyes shut.
It’ll be over soon. It has to be or my magic will eat me from the inside out.
Already it’s bubbling in my veins as the tendrils wrap around my throat.
Just because they’re not strangling me yet, doesn’t mean they won’t.
My lip quivers and I grit my teeth, determined not to cry.
Time warps and nausea crawls its way up my throat.
Then the world shuts off. At least, that’s what it feels like.
Silence permeates the space, and a shiver rolls down my back.
The flame wicks out, plunging me in darkness.
After a momentary panic, my vision clears and moonlight filters through the window.
I twist the knob and the door bursts open.
I fly back as the smell of sulfur mixed with something sweet swirls around me.
My back hits the chair and the whole thing tips over, taking me with it.
A purple haze fills the air, hissing like a smoke grenade.
When I try to get up, something hard crashes into me, and I let out a terrified scream.
Frantically, I shove at the heavy thing crushing my body. I thrash around, though it doesn’t do anything. Whatever magical bullshit grew in the closet shouldn’t be attacking me, yet here we are. I won’t go down without a fight. At the very least, I’m going to go out screaming my bloody head off.
I hit something soft, and the thing above me grunts. I freeze, my palm pressed against something warm…something that feels like skin. The smoke clears enough for me to see the outline of a man—creature—being. One with small horns poking from black hair and dark grey skin.
He grins, revealing a row of sharp white teeth. “Whoops.”