Witch out of Luck

by Elle Adams

  “There’s no need,” she said mildly. “Most will leap on anything I tell them. It’s better to have an imperfect glimpse than nothing, in their eyes. Few seers have enough of the gift to be able to make an honest living out of it. I knew one who lived in the normal world, and the only thing se was able to see was if the bus was going to be late. Every time he looked into a crystal ball, that's all he saw. Often after he’d already missed the bus.”

  “Yeah, that’s not much help,” I said. “Do seers ever see useful visions?”

  “That would depend on your definition of ‘useful’.”

  Thought so. Perhaps Madame Grey had good reason to think of seeing as a wishy-washy form of magic with little practical use.

  “In the normal world, fortune-tellers tend to make predictions like ‘you'll meet a handsome stranger in a week’ or ‘you're going to get a job promotion soon’,” I said. “It’s generally pretty vague. Is magical fortune-telling more specific?”

  “Sometimes it is,” she said. “Sometimes not.”

  “How often?”

  “How long is a broomstick?”

  That’s no answer. “Isn’t broomstick length supposed to be standardised? I mean, that’s what I heard.” Specifically, from Helen, when we’d been de-jinxing the brooms by the lake. She’d given me a full lecture on the subject.

  She laughed. “There’s always a cynic.”

  I wouldn’t say I was that cynical. I just found it hard to believe anyone could have predicted the wild ride my life had taken over the last few months.

  “Is it possible to teach someone to see who doesn't have the gift?” I asked.

  “Seeing is known for skipping generations,” said Violet. “It's rare even in seer families.”

  “Have you met any others?” I asked. “Here, in Fairy Falls?”

  “Here? No. I was under the impression there weren’t any.”

  True. So she hadn’t met Annabel, after all. “You moved here recently. Did you see Madame Grey?”

  “I did,” she confirmed. “Madame Grey gave me permission to set up shop here. I’m still unpacking the furniture.”

  That’d explain why the crystal ball was the only item on display in the room. I glanced at its glassy surface again, seeing nothing but greyish fog. “If someone without the gift looks into a crystal ball, can they develop the ability to see?”

  “Think you might have a trace of the seer gift, love?”

  “I don't think so.” I had enough weird powers without adding being able to see the future on top of it.

  “Your powers aren't that far removed from seeing and its related talents,” she mused. “Want to give it a go? This is all free of charge. You interest me, and that’s worth any payment, Blair Wilkes.”

  True. She'd told the truth with every word so far and hadn’t tried to deceive me. Though someone who told fortunes for a living was probably careful what they said most of the time.

  I turned back to the crystal ball. Its surface had gone murky, smoke swirling below the surface. I crouched to get a better view. It was like looking at clouds in the sky—easy to imagine seeing shapes there, more difficult to know if I was just imagining them. A prickle ran between my shoulder blades.

  “See anything?” she asked.

  “No, but I feel… odd.” My head swam, and the murky smoke didn’t help. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the smoke dulled my senses in a way I couldn’t explain.

  My throat went tight, and I jerked my head back. “What was that?”

  “That,” she said, “was the price of seeing. No other magic works when it comes into contact with a crystal ball. Yes, not even your truth-sensing power.”

  It never felt like that before. I’d had my power briefly blocked, but never for a long time, and I’d never felt the sensation of it actively being shut off. Shivers ran down my arms. “I didn’t see anything in there,” I said. “Unless it means there’s going to be a storm, which there probably is.”

  She gave a laugh. “Well, if you didn’t see anything in there, it doesn’t look like your talents tend towards seeing. Pity. I would have liked to witness a new seer develop their skills. New seers find their skills are in high demand. You could rake in a fortune.”

  No thanks. Being a fairy witch already brought me more than enough unwanted attention.

  “What about prophetic dreams?” I asked. “Or dreams about the past? I didn't remember any of my life before I was adopted until I moved here. Now I'm having weird dreams about it.” I hadn’t had one for a while, but I did wonder.

  “Describe them.”

  “Usually I'm flying,” I said. “Over the countryside. I thought I might be remembering being here before I was sent into the normal world.”

  “That doesn’t sound like seeing.” She sounded disappointed. “Seeing involves clarity. It doesn't mean you're clear about the meaning, but there is never any doubt about what the person is seeing.”

  “That's not really clear, is it?” I had the inkling that arguing with a seer about clarity was a recipe for disaster. “Have you ever mentored anyone?”

  “Mentor? Me? This is not an art that can be taught, Blair.”

  “But you just said you wanted to mentor me if I had the skill,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, I meant I’d give you a few tips. Seeing can only be learned from seeing, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t think I do.” It still sounded pretty wishy-washy to me. But if she hadn't mentored Annabel, who had? “Where would I go if I wanted to purchase a crystal ball?”

  “Next door, of course,” she said. “Crystal balls are made from enchanted glass and require a wizard or witch with immense skill to create. The process takes a long time. Rare, tricky magic. Expensive, too. But I have to say, that’s not my area of expertise. I look into the glass. I don’t create it. That’s the enchanter’s job.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

  She leaned back in her seat. “Oh, feel free to drop by any time. You might not have the skill yourself, but I’ve no doubt you’ll show up in the glass again soon. Any time you want a reading, I’ll give you a discount.”

  “Thanks,” I said, though I didn’t need a crystal ball to predict another storm of bad luck coming my way. Maybe the clouds indicated what was coming the day of my broomstick exam—which I was still woefully unprepared for.

  Violet Layne had never met Annabel, which meant that flier must have been delivered to every address on that street and wasn’t directed at her. One theory down.

  I left the seer’s shop, turned right, and halted in front of the Enchantment Emporium. It stayed open later than the other shops on this street, and its owner was an enchanter—a wizard with unique skills in enchanting objects. Since Gus was the best enchanter in Fairy Falls, maybe he knew who’d created the crystal ball Annabel had inherited from her grandmother.

  The Enchantment Emporium was the brightest shop I’d seen in the whole town. The shelves sparkled with permanent lights like Christmas decorations, while the rail-thin owner dressed in a cape made entirely out of small, glittering mirrors. At least my glitter-shedding fairy form wouldn’t be out of place in this particular shop.

  On cue, Gus appeared in a puff of smoke like a stage magician. I managed not to jump this time. “Hey, Gus. Sorry I’m in here so late…”

  “Blair Wilkes,” he said, an accusing note to his voice. “What do you mean by not telling me you were a fairy? How dare you.”

  I blinked. “I didn’t know you wanted me to tell you.”

  We'd only met once before, and it was before my fairy side had been exposed for the world to see. I'd figured most people in town had heard about it by this point unless they were asleep in a coffin.

  “Your magic.” He waved a hand and a spark appeared, reflected in the mirrors on his coat. “I can do fancy tricks like this, but your magic is a whole different world, Blair. I must see a demonstration.”

  “Uh, why?�
�� I asked. “Just an academic interest?”

  “Of course.” He moved behind the desk, the mirrors catching the lights and dazzling my eyes. “Fairy magic and witch magic are different spheres. It's a shame those pesky regulations imposed on your witch training will keep you from learning enchantments for a while.”

  “Enchantments are advanced magic, right?” I asked, in an attempt to steer the topic back on track.

  “Very advanced. It requires inventiveness as well as skill, and fairies possess a huge amount of both.”

  “And elves?” I asked, thinking of the magic lightning.

  “Absolutely,” Gus said. “It's a pity they rarely partner with witches or wizards. They'll work with humans, but they think our magic is incompatible.”

  If he didn't know any elves, there was a chance he didn't know if an elf’s magical lightning could knock the protective spells off a broomstick. But now the subject had come up… “Do you enchant broomsticks, too?”

  “I can,” he said. “It's not the most challenging spell. Health and safety guidelines prevent me from doing anything too adventurous. The High Fliers sometimes put in requests for other upgrades, but the council usually shoots them down.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “So it’s not possible to knock someone off a broomstick with a spell?”

  “Anything is possible, Blair Wilkes,” he said. “But my broomsticks are jinx-proof. All of them.”

  That suggested Laurie hadn’t been knocked off at all, but who knew how elf magic worked? Let’s face it, the only way to get to the truth was to find a way to sneak around the gargoyles and get that potion to Bracken.

  “What about crystal balls?” I asked. “How do you enchant the glass to make it show the future?”

  “Have you got a week to listen to the details?” He leaned on the desk, mirrors twinkling. “Enchanted glass is one of the trickiest, most rewarding types of enchantment I can do. I can do basic illusions, that type of thing, but to make a piece of glass reflect the future… it takes a great deal of time.”

  “Uh, has anyone ordered a crystal ball recently? Or asked about them?”

  “Ordered? No. If you mean the Seer next door, she brought her own from outside the town. You spoke to her, right? Did she read your fortune?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “Never mind. Thanks for talking to me.”

  Gus was younger than Ava, which meant it was unlikely that he’d been the one to sell her the crystal ball that she’d given to Annabel. She’d said it’d been in her family for generations, besides.

  “Your fairy magic?” He looked at me expectantly. “You promised a demonstration.”

  “Oh, all right.” I snapped the fingers of my right hand, turned into fairy mode, then turned human again. The mirrors on his coat reflected my transformation back at me.

  Gus applauded. “Masterful work. A glamour… better than one of my illusions, I think. You could do so much with that power.”

  “I’m not allowed to use my fairy powers in my witch exams.” Which was part of the problem. I’d feel more confident on a broomstick if I had wings, but that would defeat the purpose.

  “Really? That’s a shame.” He tilted his head. “You’d fit in here if you’re ever looking for something a little different.”

  “Thanks, but uh, I like working at Dritch & Co.”

  What was it with people offering me jobs due to my novelty status? Someone else needed to pull a ridiculous public stunt, or else people would start showing up at Dritch & Co wanting to hire me.

  My phone started to ring as I left the Enchantment Emporium behind. I expected Alissa but instead found Madame Grey on the other end of the line.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, surprised. “Is something wrong?”

  “Blair,” she said. “I have very good news. I managed to get a slot for you to take your Grade Three exams next week before classes start again.”

  “Did you say… excuse me, did you say next week?”

  “Yes, I did. Rita said you already covered all the theory work.”

  “Uh, yeah, but… but does that include the broomstick exam?”

  “You selected that as your extra qualification, didn’t you? I have you scheduled for this Saturday.”

  Five days from now. My stomach lurched. “Oh. I’m not…”

  “It’ll have to be before winter comes,” she said. “This is the best season to fly. Unlike the High Fliers—not to speak ill of the dead—we put safety first.”

  My throat went dry. I needed much more time, but she had a point about the scheduling.

  “Is that the only date?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid it is, Blair.”

  Maybe the tight deadline would cause my broom-flying instincts to kick in. Hey, I could dream. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  12

  Focus, Blair.

  I stood on the grassy hill in front of the lake beside the broomstick I’d borrowed from the store cupboard, fighting an inexplicable wave of nervousness. This was ridiculous. I'd failed at using a wand at first, too. This would be no different. Besides, what kind of witch couldn’t fly a broomstick?

  Helen was busy teaching a class at the academy, which left me with no choice but to practise alone. Picking a spot close to the lake felt like tempting fate, but there were few open spaces within the town’s boundaries and even fewer where there'd be no witnesses. The High Fliers weren’t practising today, so I'd at least have a clear path to fly without crashing into anyone or knocking them out with my broomstick. No gargoyles had shown up either, giving me no excuses not to do my best.

  The pressure was on. If I wanted to pass my exam, I needed to get the hang of flight.

  “Go time, Blair,” I muttered. “You, Mr Broomstick, are going to behave.”

  I could see Sky’s judgemental face in the corner of my eye as I scolded the broom. There was the slight possibility that I was cracking up, but if it took a stern talking-to to get my broomstick to behave, so be it. Standing in position, I tapped the broom’s end firmly. I didn't think it was my glamour that was the problem, but something else causing the broom to reject me. Aside from lack of confidence and being humiliated in front of small children, that is.

  The broom rose into the air, carrying me with it. Gripping the broomstick between my knees, I took flight, trying to pretend I was using my wings or boots instead. I hadn't worn my boots today, wondering if they might be part of the reason the broom didn't want me to stay airborne. My wings, I couldn't do anything about, but if I stayed in human mode, hopefully it wouldn't matter.

  I kept rising into the air, higher, higher. Hey, I was doing it!

  The broom dipped forwards. I grabbed the end, fighting for control. My hands grasped the end, and the broom rocked and steadied. Then it dropped again. If I let go and got my wings out, I’d fall off.

  “Stop it!” I yelled at the broomstick. “Stop doing that.”

  The broom tilted to the side, causing me to overbalance. I landed flat on my back on the grass. The broom drifted to land beside me.

  “Thanks,” I said to it. “What’s the issue?”

  Taking off wasn’t the problem. I just lost focus easily when I was in mid-air, which wasn’t surprising, given that my head was as clouded as that bloody crystal ball. Who even cared about broomsticks? Two people had died right nearby, and the elf was nowhere in sight. I’d walked here through the woods and peered down at the falls, but no elves had come out. The day was overcast, which explained why nobody else was around, but I’d heard whispers that the High Fliers had put their summer event on hold until they found out if Laurie had been murdered.

  I mounted the broom again. This time I lasted four seconds before it pitched forward, throwing me off the end. I sighed and snapped into fairy mode, getting back on the broomstick. This time was even worse. I was barely in the air when a wind current caught my wings from behind, sending me flying head over heels. I crash-landed on my back once again, my wings protesting at the impact.

  Wait.
I got to my feet, twitching my wings. The air current had hit me from behind. Were the wings somehow making it harder for me to stay on the broomstick? If the wind blew from behind and caught my wings, it was pretty much a given that the broom would tip forwards and throw me off. Maybe I needed to face the other way.

  I turned the broom around, wings still out, and mounted. Taking in a breath, I pulled the broom into position and tapped the end with my wand. The air current hit from the front this time, tugging on my wings and threatening to send me flying back off the broom and not forwards. I gripped harder, flying slightly to the left. If I flew at a slight angle, I could avoid the wind catching my wings and blowing me off course. I wasn’t sure the exam’s rules would allow lopsided flying, but now I knew what the problem was.

  The broom tipped. I fell off, landing on my back, and found myself looking up at my cat. Where had he come from?

  “Miaow.” Sky prodded me in the chest with a paw.

  “Sky?” I sat up, brushing grass off my back. “What are you doing here? You never come to the lake. Unless you’ve found another treasure map?”

  “Miaow.”

  I retrieved the broomstick where it’d fallen onto the grass. “I’m learning to ride a broom, but having wings makes balancing a bit tricky. Want to help me out?”

  I positioned the broom between my legs again. With a tap of my wand, I was in the air—and to my complete and utter astonishment, Sky jumped up, perching on the end. The broom dipped forwards and I cringed, but it didn’t overbalance this time.

  “Are you balancing the broomstick?”

  “Miaow.”

  How had Sky even known to come here? I pulled the broom up a little, expecting it to throw me off. Then I flew forwards. Each time the broom titled, Sky shifted his weight, pushing it back on course. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.

  I flew up, then down, aiming to land on the bank. I’d never had a successful landing before, but the broom halted when I steadied it, and I jumped off and landed on my feet.

  I punched the air in triumph. Sky remained sitting on the floating broomstick, looking as indifferent as ever. I grinned at him. “Come on, you know that was awesome.”