by Adam Johnson
With nothing else to do, I pull out my phone to play a game. The screen flashes with colour and with deft fingers, I match tiles and symbols. If I were in the mood to lie to myself, I’d say this was my way of keeping my mind sharp. In reality, it’s a way to stop me getting so bored that I do something stupid. It has happened before. More than once. And it almost never ends well.
Chapter 3
It isn’t until I’ve waited for about fifteen minutes that I realise I don’t know what Mr Richards looks like. I just saw the name on the CWC letter we received. It's a bit of a hiccup in my plan to accost him. This is why people think things through before doing them. I need to learn to do that.
I scrunch the wrapper of my chocolate bar into a ball and aim for the bin.
Score!
A small victory, but one I'm going to take at this point.
The ding of an elevator calls my attention away from my sporting proficiency. Someone is coming. Hopefully Mr Richards, I forgot to charge my phone last night so can't play games for too long.
A short man in a suit strides across the entrance hall. I have no idea if he's the man I'm looking for, but he's the right gender, which is a start.
I jump to my feet, only wondering if I have chocolate stains on my shirt when I'm already halfway across the room. Oh well, too late now.
"Hi," I chirp, popping up in front of him so he has no chance but to engage and can't just walk away.
He gives me a startled look from over his thin glasses. “Yes?”
“Are you Mr Richards?” I ask.
“No, sorry.” He pushes past me. As he walks away, I address another man who seems to have appeared. It must be break time, because there are now several people coming from the elevators.
“Hi. Are you Mr Richards?”
The slender man shakes his head as he walks past me.
Damn it.
I don’t know how many people I question before the receptionist waves me to her desk. Finally.
“Hello,” I grin. “Can I see Mr Richards now?”She sighs dramatically.
“I told you, he’s only available for appointments.”
“Then why did you call me?”
“To ask you to leave. You’re bothering people.
“I’m not bothering anyone,” I deny. “It’s not forbidden to talk to people, is it?”
The secretary glares at me as she taps her long nails on her desk. “No, it’s not. But—”
“Sorry, got to go. Saw someone that might be Mr Richards,” I interrupt, rushing away to the latest man that arrived. It’s unlikely that he’s going to be who I’m looking for, but if I don’t ask, it’ll definitely be him.
Before I can talk to the other man, the secretary calls me back yet again.
“Wait!” She sighs dramatically and shakes her head like I’m giving her the worst headache. Maybe I have. It wouldn’t be the first time either.
I pause. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll give Mr Richards a call to see if he might have five minutes, but if he’s not available, will you please go away and make an appointment in a few weeks?” she asks.
“Deal.” Who says you can't annoy the big companies into doing what you want them to? It's not my preferred method of getting things done, but it isn't my fault they've made their staff hard to make appointments with. She picks up her old-fashioned phone and punches in a couple of numbers. She shoots me an exhausted smile as she waits and bobs her head up and down.
“Ah, Richard. I have a young lady here that’s desperate for a moment of your time… No, she’s not scheduled in, she just showed up. Yes, I told her you only take appointments… I don’t know what she wants.” She muffles the speaker part of her phone and glares at me. “What do you want?”
I hold out the letter that arrived at the shop earlier today. “Suspended license.”
The woman groans. “Suspended license. I know… Thank you.” She clicks the phone down and sighs. “You’re in luck, Mr Richards has agreed to see you. Fifth floor, turn to the right and the second office on the left.”
“Great! Thank you.” I shoot her a dazzling smile. “Oh, and the candy bars in your vending machine are delightful.” She shakes her head but seems glad to be rid of me. I don't blame her. If anyone has any complaints about the ways I've accosted them, it's probably her who will have to deal with them.
I try to ignore the kernel of guilt growing within me. I don't want to make anyone's job harder, even if that's what the CWC is doing to Grammie and I can't ignore that, especially when they haven't given an adequate reason for why they're doing this to her.
I make my way over to the elevator, touching my wand to make sure it hasn't disappeared since I last checked on it. Unsurprisingly, it's still there and still safe. One of these days I'll start trusting it isn't going to run off.
A small snort escapes me.
The day I stop checking on my wand is the day it does go missing. And I'm not going to let that happen. I'd be lost without it. Not because I can't do things without magic, I have plenty of experience on that front. But because magic and my wand are such important parts of me. I can't imagine not having that connection to who I am any more.
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought.
"Pull yourself together, Amy," I mutter as I step into the elevator, drawing a funny look from the woman already inside.
I ignore her. It's better that way. The elevator brings me to the fifth floor and I skip through the boring grey halls. Most of the offices have some kind of thin window next to the door and I can’t help sneak a peek inside. Round tables with people in suits, projectors and whiteboards with boring charts, and all kinds of paperwork. I’ve never seen anything so boring in my life.
Glad I don’t spend my time behind a desk, I turn towards the left and search for the right office. Luckily there are gold signs on the doors.
There.
Richard Richards.
Oh, poor man. No wonder he’s so cranky. I would be if my name was Amethyst Amethysts. Not that witches really have surnames. Normally we just use our coven name if we need one. Though it seems this witch has gone in a bit of a different direction. I bet he’s regretting it now.
I knock thrice and wait politely to be called in. Contrary to what Grammie says and the secretary probably thinks, I do have manners.
“Come in!” a low voice calls.
Ah, good. He's not going to pretend he isn't expecting me. Things are definitely picking up for Team Amy.
Chapter 4
A man with long grey hair and stern glasses glares at me from behind his massive desk. He folds his hands and sighs. “So what I can do for you, Miss…”
“Amethyst of the Gemstone Coven,” I answer, hoping he isn't going to use my coven name to refer to me the entire time. It's annoying and doesn't feel like me. "You suspended the license for my Grammie’s shop and I want to know why.” He looks a little taken aback. Maybe he isn't used to people wanting to know why the CWC makes some of its decisions. “Pardon?”
“You suspended our license but it doesn’t say why. Doesn’t matter, it’s bullshit anyway. Grammie would never do anything wrong. Never. She’s the most honest, hard-working witch there is. Our wands are up to standard and freaking awesome.” I cross my arms and give him a look that dares him to contradict what I'm saying.
“Miss Gemstone, if you don’t agree with the suspension, you can lodge a request for a revision.”
Ugh. Bureaucracy. What's the point of it when it all takes so long?
“So if I do that, does that mean we can keep operating in the meantime?” I ask.
“No, until we’ve reviewed the case again, I’m afraid the suspension remains.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “And how long will that take?”
Mr Richard glances at his watch. “Two to six weeks. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an appointment in—“
“I do mind. Can you at least tell me why ou
r license was suspended?”
“Miss Gemstone, I don’t personally work the cases. I’m the head of the department.”
I show him the letter. “This is your signature, isn’t it?”
“I… It is.”
“You signed off on the suspension, so you must know why.”
An awkward silence hangs in the office as he casts his eyes down. “It’s pre-printed.”
“Pre-printed?” I scoff even though I already suspected as much. “That’s even worse. So you pre-signed off on something and you don’t even know what?”
“Listen, Miss Gemstone, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I really have to—”
“No! I want to know why we got suspended and how we can fix it.” Maybe it’s stupid to barge in uninvited or to shout at this important man from the CWC, maybe I’m making things worse, but I can’t just sit and do nothing. This is my Grammie’s life's work. If she can’t make wands… I don’t know what she’d do. She isn't the type to go sit on some beach and sip mai-tais. Her face is under the term workaholic in the dictionary.
Mr Richards hesitates for a couple of seconds before he groans. “If I check your file, will you get out of my office?”
I beam. “Yes.” That's all I wanted in the first place. Though maybe it isn't a good thing if I end up learning that if I keep pushing people, I'll get what I want.
“Great.” He pushes his glasses further up his nose and hovers his fingers over his keyboard. Click, click, click, letter per letter. He types painstakingly slowly. I hope he isn't doing it on purpose. Though if he isn't, I have to wonder how this man is the head of the department?
After what feels like an eternity, he nods. “Ah, here. Gemstone Coven. Amethyst’s Wand Shop.”
“That's the one.”
“Suspended for… usage of an unlicensed magnifier," he says, looking away from the screen and back to me.
“What!?” I lunge forward to look at his computer, but he shields his screen and glares at me.
Right, privacy. And boundaries. I need to remember to respect them.
He waits for me to sit down before he resumes talking. “A report was filed about a wand with unlicensed material registered from your shop. We assessed the remnant traces of the magic and verified the foreign nature of the magnifier.”
“Who filed the report?” I ball my hands into fists. “It better not be the snooty Harringtons. They lied about the wand we made for their daughter and called it defective just to get a free upgrade and that’s not the first time they’ve pulled that stunt. I swear, if it’s them, I will knock them off their brooms the next time—“
“The report came from the PPD,” he cuts me off, his tone revealing that he's more than a little fed up with me right now.
Shit.
I reach down to touch my leg where my wand is tucked away in the custom sleeve. I completely forgot they tested it when I applied to the police force. They must have detected the unregistered sea glass that forgot I put it in.
Fuck.
Grammie’s shop is in the weeds and it’s… my fault? I did this…?
I pull my wand out and stare at it, trying to make sense of everything but not managing to fully process it.
“Listen, I can explain,” I insist, trying not to let panic take over. I place my wand on the desk. “My Grammie has been teaching me how to make wands and I’ve been experimenting with the craft, but it’s not my dream. You see, I applied to the PPD and used this wand which happens to have a little bit of sea glass in it. Now before you say it, yes, I know sea glass is technically an unregistered magnifier but I used it as a sentimental component. That’s allowed, right?”
Mr Richards’ expression remains unchanged. “Miss Gemstone, I’m sorry to say but there’s really nothing I can do for you. You should file for a reassessment or wait for the inspection to clear things up.”
“But—”
“In fact, I’m obligated to write up your confession and add it to your file.”
My heart sinks. “What? What confession?”
“That you’re indeed using unregistered materials.”
“Hold up! No, I said I used a little bit of sea glass in my personal wand. Personal. It has nothing to do with the shop or Grammie. Besides, it’s a sentimental component. I found this piece of glass on the beach when I was young. The core magnifier of my wand is an amethyst gem,” I protest. How is this happening?
The man across me adjusts his glasses. “Unregistered magnifiers are dangerous and unpredictable. That’s why they’re unlicensed.”
I know he's just quoting the rules, and that they're there for a reason, but it's still frustrating. I take a deep breath, trying not to let my emotions take over. “Okay, fine. I made a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t have tuned my wand, but it has never misbehaved. At least punish me, not my Grammie. She didn’t do anything wrong. Just suspend my wandmaker license, not the shop’s.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t lift the suspension until an inspection has been carried out. And after your confession, I’m afraid I’ll have to write you up as well. I apologise, but here at the CWC, we do it by the book, Miss Gemstone.”
“What?” Somehow, I've managed to make things worse and not better. At the very least there might be a chance that my confession will help Grammie, but that doesn't solve my current problem. Before he can explain, the door behind me opens and two buff men in suits step in. They're everything I expect burly security guards to be, so much so that they're bordering on a cliché. I have to wonder why a government body that deals with wand licenses needs guards like that.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming.” Mr Richards rises from behind his desk. “Please confiscate Miss Gemstone's tuned wand.”
“What!?” I rise to my feet, horror written all over my face.
He can’t be serious. They can’t do this to me. Taking a witch's wand is like taking their finger. Or something else that's vitally important. It's part of me, I can't just be without it.
I snatch my wand from his desk and the whole room tenses. The two men whip out their own wands and point them at me.
“Drop your wand and put your hands on your head where we can see them, Miss Gemstone,” the tallest of the security guards commands. “Slowly.”
“Slowly!” the other shouts.
Talk about an overreaction, I haven't even done anything to warrant the response.
“No need to treat me like a criminal,” I scoff. I briefly contemplate resisting, but that’s not going to do Grammie or the shop any good. I have to think about that rather than whether or not I get to leave the room with my wand.
My hands shake as I hold it out to the men.
"Be careful with it," I say needlessly.
"We know what we're doing when it comes to handling wands, Miss Gemstone," Mr Richards says.
I glare at him. Somehow, I doubt he cares about any wand other than his own. Both of his wands.
Damn, I'm too stressed to even laugh at my own wands jokes now. Reassured I’m no longer a threat, Mr Richards sits back behind his desk. "You'll be hearing from us soon, Miss Gemstone. Don't leave the area."
I scowl. I'm not a criminal. I shouldn't be treated like one. Instead of pointing that out, I nod. There's nothing I can do right here. It's clear that Mr Richards is no friend of mine. So instead of trying to get him to change my mind, I'm going to be a good little witch and file all of the paperwork I'm supposed to.
No matter what happens, I will get my wand back, and I will get the suspension lifted on Grammie's shop.
Chapter 5
A witch without a wand is nothing. There’s nothing worse than doing dishes by hand. I don't mind doing certain tasks by hand, but the dishes aren't part of that list.
Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I'm feeling a little lost without my wand. It's like my phone to me. I wouldn't want to be without that either.
“Ugh.” I dunk my fingers into the scalding hot tea and manage t
o grab the corner of the teabag. I fling the plump wet bag into the trash and shiver. Gross. I can’t wait until my suspension is lifted.
At least the first part of the workshop to sort that out is today. If I ace it, the suspension won’t just be lifted, I’ll get a sea glass license too. If I fail… I don’t even want to think about the consequences for me and the shop. Grammie could lose everything and my punishment would be harsh. When I’m in prison, I’ll have different things to worry about than taking out tea bags with my bare hands.
“You brought this upon yourself,” Grammie notes as she elegantly removes her tea bag with a flick of her wand. I don't know why she couldn't have done that for mine too. Probably because she's trying to teach me a lesson about going and seeing important people and accidentally revealing my rule-breaking to them. I have to hand it to her, I don't think she's wrong in encouraging me not to do that.
“I was just trying to fix things," I mutter, trying to ignore the guilt. It's not too bad when it's just me who has to suffer, but Grammie is another matter. No one messes with my Grammie while I'm around. Though maybe in the future I should let her deal with her own problems instead of making them worse.
“And I appreciate the effort, but the CWC isn’t to be messed with. The restrictions and rules are there for a reason.” She looks at me from over her mug. “Sea glass, Amy? Really? I taught you better than that.”
I cast my eyes down. “I’m sorry, Grammie. I didn’t see the harm in making slight modifications. The sea glass really complimented my gemstone and it is stable, no matter what they say.”
A smug smile stretches over her face revealing how she really feels about my addition of a second magnifier.
“Of course, you didn’t. You’re too clever for your own good. And too reckless. You got that from me. But there’s a time and a place.” The doorbell chimes and Grammie smiles. “On the dot, as expected from the CWC.” With dread weighing down my heart, I follow her from the kitchen down into the shop. Dust is already gathering everywhere and we haven’t even suspended for a week. Metaphorical dust, anyway. Grammie would never let the shop get actually dusty.