by Megan Derr
"Yeah?" Lee said, his heart beating faster.
"Yeah," Jayden confirmed, letting go of the sheets. "What do you think?"
"I'd try it, but only because it's you," Lee said, echoing what Jayden had said. "But I'll have you know, this means you'll have to meet my mom at some point, and she's the one who told me I should stay away from hedge witches."
"We can put that off," Jayden said cheerfully. "Maybe a few years."
"Well, that would work better if I didn't live at home," Lee said, grinning. "But I'm sure we can work something out. You've got enchanting spells, right?"
"No, but Jordan's got a friend of a friend who he gets those from. I could probably find one," Jayden said. "We can see if it'll work, first. I mean, it might fall apart in a week or two, or you might meet someone who's tastier than I am…"
"I don't know, you're pretty tasty," Lee said, shuffling forward to kiss Jayden. "Thank you for feeding me, by the way."
"You should feed me now. You owe me pizza," Jayden said, but he pulled Lee down to the bed instead of letting him get up to call the delivery place. Lee didn't point it out. Kissing Jayden was a much higher priority than pizza, even if he got to keep Jayden.
Herbal Remedy
Jordan is used to being the butt of every hedge witch joke, painfully aware he's a checklist of clichés, and long resigned to never being as successful as the more favored elemental witches. Then a prestigious magic firm puts out a call for hedge witches, and the chance to prove himself and become more than a joke is impossible to resist—even if he has to put aside all those things he loves for a little while. It's only temporary, the money is great, and it will all be worth it in the end.
Jordan opened the front door, annoyed that Jayden had clearly forgotten or lost his key again—and promptly wanted to slam it shut at the look on his brother's face. "Just say it."
"What in the hell happened to your hair?"
Unable to stomach repeating the story, feeling stupid and ugly, Jordan stomped off back to the kitchen, running a hand over the soft fuzz that was all that remained of his hair. He still kind of wanted to cry, which was stupid because it was just hair, but whatever, he did. In the kitchen he picked up the cigarette he'd just been about to light when he heard the knocking. Lighting it, he let the scent and flavor of fairy grass and mint soothe him. Screw coffee, fairy grass all the way.
He heaved a sigh when Jayden slipped into the kitchen. "Seriously, what happened to your hair?"
"What happened to your brain? How did you forget your keys again?"
"Stop avoiding the question."
Jordan took a pull on his cigarette, breathed the smoke in deep, closing his eyes and enjoying the way it warmed his blood and opened up his magic, dulled the sharp edges of his bad mood. Finally dragging his eyes open, he said, "It was Ms. Harley. I was over there renewing her bug wards and picking up some fresh coriander and stuff. She wanted me to look at this nasty smelling concoction she had bubbling in a cauldron—an honest to goddess cauldron!—only instead of holding the pitcher out for me to smell it, she tripped or something and I wound up wearing it. Healing potion she called it. Does my hair look healed to you?"
"Shh," Jayden said, grasping him firmly by the biceps. "That woman is crazy. Someone needs to take her 'book of spells' away from her and burn it."
"It was gross," Jordan said with a sniff. "Almost too hot, and it smelled like rotted herbs and meat. It was thick and oily and sticky and I tried to get it out, but I finally—" he gulped and shoved Jayden away so he could take another drag.
Jayden scowled. "Want me to set her on fire? I don't need magic for that, just gasoline and matches."
Jordan managed a laugh. "It's not nice to set people on fire, especially not old ladies who don't really mean any harm. It's just hair; it'll grow back." He ran his fingers over the stupid fuzz, startled and confused and miserable at the way there was nothing there. It was always a surprise, even though he'd done it a hundred times since getting it cut the evening before. He somehow kept expecting his dreads to return, to feel the weight of them, wrap his fingers around them when he was twitchy.
He grunted when Jayden gave him a hug and shoved him away. "Go away, you smell like boyfriend."
Jayden smirked. "You—"
"If you finish that sentence, I will end your life."
"Yeah, yeah," Jayden said. "What are you doing up? If you were replenishing stock you must have been up until like, six this morning preparing and storing it all."
Taking another long drag, nervous all over again, Jordan admitted, "Job interview."
"What? Mr. I like to work in the sketchy shed in the backyard is getting a job? Where?"
Jordan went over to the table and picked up the packet of papers lying there, some of which he'd gathered while others had been sent to him when he'd first put in an application. "Nowhere you'd care about. It's called Cumberly & Pass …"
He trailed off as Jayden took the packet and immediately laughed. "Are you going to be a lawyer or something?"
Snatching it back, Jordan held the papers close and said, "It's not a law firm! Cumberly & Pass is one of the best magic firms in the state—on the east coast, in fact—and they never have public job listings! More important, they're explicitly hiring for hedge witches, which they've never done. It's a one in a million shot. Do you know what this could do for my magic, for my reputation? It—" He stopped when he saw the look on Jayden's face that said he was happy for Jordan and trying hard to appreciate the details, but Jayden had never been big on magic, was happy just messing with token spells and charms for his own use, occasionally helping when Jordan got overwhelmed. "Anyway, it's cool."
"I'm sure. I'm just still boggling over you giving up your hermit ways—"
"I'm not a hermit! Just because I don't socialize myself to death like you—" He broke off when Jayden grinned. "Go away before I go see if there's some leftover healing potion to dump on your head."
Jayden laughed, sneaked in close to give him a quick hug, then darted away out of their faded, cluttered kitchen and down the creaky hallway into his bedroom.
Sighing, Jordan finished his cigarette and threw the stub in the ashtray by the trashcan. He headed down the hallway to his own room, directly across from Jayden's, and stripped off his clothes as he headed into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up, staring in the mirror mournfully at his shaved head, running fingers over his tattoos and nipple rings.
When the water was as warm as it was going to get, he climbed in and started cleaning up, using his favorite mint and cilantro soap. It made him feel a little better, to the point he was almost smiling when he climbed out and toweled off.
Jordan dropped the towel in his hamper as he returned to the bedroom, tugging on boxers and socks before he wandered over to the bed where he'd laid out a suit. His favorite, in fact: old-school looking and made of worn-soft dark maroon wool. Three piece, the vest threaded with gold flowers, and a tie that matched perfectly. Jayden teased him relentlessly for 'shopping in the 1920s', nevermind the suit was only loosely inspired—but explaining that only got him more heckling.
He pulled the suit on, fussing with the gold rose-shaped cufflinks for a minute. After conquering those, he got his pocket watch attached then tucked away his wallet and cigarette case. He settled his gold-rimmed, spectacle-style glasses into place and wandered over to his dresser, opening his jewelry case and considering his options. Finally he picked out gold hoops and his lucky ring: a gold band wrapped with silver vines and tiny, emerald-chip leaves. Most of his jewelry had come from his mother, inherited when their parents had died. He could still remember the last time she'd worn the ring, going to dinner the day before they'd left on that last, horrible hiking trip.
Last he dabbed on a bit of cologne—mint and rosemary and gnome dust—and finally declared himself ready. He stepped out into the hall and knocked on Jayden's door. When no answer came, he slowly opened the door and peeked inside, snorting
softly when he saw Jayden had fallen asleep and was currently drooling all over his magazine.
He jotted a quick note for Jayden and affixed it to the fridge with a pineapple magnet, then shoved his papers, résumé, business cards, and a few examples of his work into his leather satchel. Ready as he was ever going to be, he headed down the street to catch the bus into the city.
Forty minutes later, he stood on the street and read through his carefully written instructions again, then walked two blocks east and two blocks south to the aptly named Sterling Building. It was all glass and shiny metal and nothing at all like Jordan's old, creaky house and dusty workroom and the backyard they were always forgetting to cut. He couldn't picture anyone who worked in such a building relaxing mostly-naked on the beach, smoking mint and faerie grass, downing fruity drinks that were mostly rum or tequila, and watching Jayden fail miserably at volleyball. Which, he knew logically a lot of them were relaxed and chill—it didn't feel like it right then.
But dang it, this was his chance to stop being everyone's favorite hippie joke, to prove he was more than a struggling hedge witch with a shed full of herbs. Swallowing his nerves, he shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and strode into the building. He knew the floor, but double checked it on the directory anyway before riding the elevator up to the nineteenth floor and going to suite 1904: Cumberly & Pass Consulting.
He rang the buzzer and jumped when a nasally voice asked through a speaker, "Cumberly & Pass, how may I help you?"
"Y-yes, I have an interview?"
"Come on in." Jordan heard a muted click and tugged the door open. Inside, the office was all expensive brown leather, dark gold-brown furniture, green carpeting and walls, with dark green and gold trim. The name of the company was written in ornate script over the looming desk of the receptionist. The nasally voice proved to belong to a slender, imperious-looking young man who peered over the desk and seemed immediately to disapprove of Jordan. "I'll let Mr. Vine know his two o'clock has arrived, if you'll just take a seat."
"Thank you." Jordan shuffled over to the indicated row of uncomfortable looking seats and tried not to fidget. He could kill for a smoke, or just one of his lemon-balm and lavender candies, but the last thing he wanted to do was make them think he was every last cliché associated with hedge witches.
Even if he did happen to be every last cliché associated with hedge witches.
The minutes moved by like hours, and he was on the verge of retreating to the relative privacy and safety of a bathroom to gather his fraying nerves when a door behind the receptionist's desk opened and a stern looking man with silver-dusted gray hair and sharp blue eyes stepped out. His clothes were just as severe—steel gray shirt, black slacks and vest, black tie with gray stripes. There wasn't a single other color on him.
As he stepped around the desk and extended a hand, Jordan hastily scrambled to his feet and shook it. "Mr. Vine, an honor to meet you."
"Mister … Ackerman, correct?"
"Yes, sir," Jordan said.
Vine looked equal parts amused and relieved. "Well, you're certainly not what I'm used to seeing in hedge witches. That's a good start. Come this way. Hold my calls, Michael."
"Yes, Mr. Vine," Michael said, looking up briefly from his computer to nod.
Vine led Jordan into the back and down a dimly lit hall to a small conference room. Once inside, motioned Jordan to take a chair and asked, "Coffee? Water?"
"No, thank you, I'm fine," Jordan said, anxiety kicked all the way back up to maximum levels. What would Vine have said if Jordan had shown up with his dreads intact? And everything else he loved that made him the butt of so many jokes. It didn't matter. He could ace an interview, prove to be amazing at his job, and then they wouldn't care how he looked or what he liked.
He took the seat Vine indicated, setting his bag beside him, and folded his hands in his lap.
"Your résumé said that there's a long history of witchcraft in your family."
"Yes, sir," Jordan said. "Mostly on my father's side, but my mother had some hedge witches in her line. I was learning from my father since I was little, until my parents passed away."
Vine nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss. Why are you interested in working for Cumberly & Pass? What makes you think you'll fit into what we do here?"
Jordan drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, going over what he wanted to say to make certain the words came out right. "Cumberly & Pass is well-established in protective and healing magic, innovative and expansive … but elemental magic works on a grand scale. It's ideal in terms of warding a building or strengthening a large group of people. On a small scale, however, it falters. Elemental magic has always suffered in regards to small-scale spells. The same amount of energy must be expended as with a large spell, but most of it is wasted in grasping the small spell desired in the first place. Hedge magic is the exact opposite, specializing in helping the individual rather than the whole. Personal protections have always been a minor field, but it's one that is rapidly increasing in popularity right now. I can help Cumberly & Pass expand in that direction and at the same time learn much in turn to expand my own skill set."
Chuckling, Vine leaned back in his seat and idly tapped his pen against the papers in front of him. "Protections at the individual level are indeed more in demand than ever before. We have ways of working around the limitations you mentioned, but it's also true that hedge witches will always excel by way of natural tendency. What experience do you have with such protections?"
"I've been making them by myself since I was thirteen, including three bracelets that continue to work to this day," Jordan said, smiling faintly, unable not to feel proud about that no matter that the protections on them were simple enough wards for his neighbors, to protect them from bug bites while they worked in their garden. "I make charms and talismans for people in my neighborhood; I also sell generic and custom protections online. A few dozen I sell to tourist shops. The types of spells range, everything from mitigating the effects of the heat and guarding against bug bites, to more serious matters like vampires, werewolves, and such. I've had a lot of practice with traditional herbal magic—"
"Yes, I would expect a grounding in all the basics, but you sound as though you have better things to do with your time than play with herbal remedies," Vine cut in, his dismissive tone all too familiar.
The words hurt, but Jordan was used to it—and the hard truth was that if he ever wanted to succeed at magic and be taken seriously, no one wanted to hear about herbal remedies. Real witches did not rely upon such old-fashioned, time consuming methods. "Yes, sir."
"So where do you see yourself in five years?" Vine asked.
"Flourishing," Jordan replied. "I've always wanted to push my abilities harder, farther, but it's hard to do that restricted as I am. Cumberly & Pass will open up all new opportunities for me to make the most of my potential and even find new potential."
Vine nodded, looking pleased, and moved on to the next question. Jordan had spent hours reading over interview questions, writing out and memorizing answers, until he was sick unto death of the things. He was glad he had, though, because if he hadn't he would have been fumbling and tripping through every question. By the time the interrogation stopped, he was exhausted and badly in need of a smoke. "Well, Mr. Ackerman, it's been a pleasure. We'll call you next week to let you know what we decide."
"Thank you for your time," Jordan replied, shaking hands again.
He nodded to the imperious receptionist on his way out, and sighed once he was free of the intimidating office.
Back on the streets, he still fought an urge to light up, knowing it was paranoid thinking at its best to suspect there might be somebody watching to see if he did such a thing, but not caring. He was going to get the job, dang it, even if he had to be paranoid in the process. He'd become an accomplished, well-known witch, he'd give hedge witches a better name, and he'd be bringing in real money. He would be able to afford repairs on the house, expand his she
d, buy an awesome birthday present for Jayden … and maybe, just maybe, meet somebody special. A guy could hope.
It was going to be great.
*~*~*
He hated his job. He wanted to cry. Jordan stared at his tea through blurry eyes and couldn't tell if he was crying, or if he was just that tired. Pulling out a handkerchief, he wiped at his eyes until they finally behaved. He tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket and picked his notebook up. It was a sturdy, pretty thing, handmade from start to finish by a woman who lived in his neighborhood. He bought all his spell notebooks from her, traded for various teas, charms, and candies.
Sniffling, he turned to the page he needed then reached into the travel case he'd made a couple of months ago so he could continue to make stuff for the locals while he was on the road. He didn't want to let down the people who had always supported and relied on him just because he was a hundred miles away laying spells for spoiled brats in their private castles.
He measured out the hemp he would need, then the beads preset with protection spells. The particular necklace that evening was meant to ward against werewolves, for a friend who worked with unstable werewolves and wanted to lower chances of taking a bite if one of them got out of control. He used hollow silver beads stuffed with a specially prepared combination of ginger and wolf's bane.
If the staff in the diner where he was crashing to work thought him weird, they at least were willing to leave him in peace. Jordan bent over his work, turning yards of hemp into a beautiful necklace that smelled of wolf's bane, ginger, silver, and a touch of the bittersweet pixie heart potion in which he always soaked his hemp to give it additional strength and longevity. He didn't care what elementals said about herbs being old-fashioned and straight energy work being more efficient, traditional herbal work would always be his favorite.
He paused to flex his fingers to keep them from getting stiff and sore and only then noticed the fragrant scent of jasmine with a hint of musk. Looking up, he flushed to see how intently he was being watched by a man a couple of booths over. He was … the only word that came to mind was 'wow'. He looked like an old school professor who had stepped straight out of a book wearing a stylish tweed suit with a jasmine tie pin keeping his dark lavender tie in place. His hair was a tamed mop of strawberry blond curls, nicely framing a heavily freckled face and square-shaped, black-rimmed glasses.