by Kezzy Sparks
His strange, quiet behavior worked me the wrong way.
I tiptoed toward him. “Can I talk with you outside for a sec.”
“What do you want from me, hey?” he said, but in an easy playful tone, even though his words were quite assertive.
“I need to see you. Outside, please.” I held his gaze.
“Sounds great, actually.” He rose, and we padded out.
My heart beat hard because a difficult thing was coming. One of the hardest aspects of our job as hunters is to get a suspect to agree to a check. You can’t just force it, because witch hunting technically is also a crime in itself. Only the utmost tact must be used. My approach, therefore, when in public is to use secret sniffing. Magical signatures are always detectable, and it’s only after I sense something that I go on to the second stage, which is to search, seize, and arrest.
Since we were at a light hearted party, my aim with Kay was to just politely ask him to leave if I found something bad on him. I wouldn’t go as far as arresting him.
We stood some yards from the door. The air was getting chilly because like every Halloween it was the last day of October.
To avoid alerting him too soon, I needed to use my sniffer first, but without bringing it out. Any other way would be like a direct witch hunt and I didn’t want that. The sniffer wand, though, is a cool tool, I tell you. It can still get the job done without being brought out of the pocket, provided I get close enough to a suspect. I moved closer to him, to the point of real discomfort.
“You look lost inside, and you’re so quiet.” I found a way to begin.
“That’s because you didn’t want to talk to me,” he answered. “You expect me to talk alone?”
“Not so, look, there is so many other people...”
“You don’t seem to be taking part yourself either,” he said. “You’re just watching.”
“No, I have my drink.” I raised my warm glass. “Look, how I sip.”
“And I’m doing the same.” He raised his.
I edged even closer to him. Now this was a genuine violation of his personal space. “So, are you now glad I’m talking to you?”
“I’d be gladder if you introduced yourself.”
A careful, very secret scan revealed nothing malicious on him. My suspicions had therefore been without justification. I now had to find a way out. “I think the fresh air has done us some good. It was stifling in there,” I said.
“We came for the party, didn't we?” he smiled. “So we gotta like it like that.”
“I know, I know.”
It then felt so awkward. I realized why I had singled him out. I was attracted to him. His bewitching smile blew me away.
“Why don’t we hang out here for longer then, if you like it that way,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Melanie,” I answered. “Yours?”
“Kay,” he said. “Kaylo Lightyear.”
“Cool, man, so what do you do?”
“I study, and you?”
“I prowl.” I giggled.
Kay grinned. “Prowl! Now that’s so great. What do you prowl for?”
“Ghosts on Halloween night. And witches, too.”
Kay glared at me, disbelief lighting the gray in his eyes. “I didn’t think you drank that much. What have you been taking?”
“What, you think I’m drunk?” I snapped, though jokingly.
“And you think I’m too quiet?”
“I didn’t even drink much. This is my first glass.”
He eyed me; happily, I think. “Why don’t we go prowling together then? I have never seen a ghost.”
“Give me your number, and I’ll take you out…”
Even up till now, Kay believes I was the first to hit on him, but the heavens know how inaccurate that is.
Anyway, he’s now in his pad, and I must drive back home to see Sara.
Eleven
It’s been a day spent doing varied stuff, and I can say it’s progressing well. Now I am heading back onto Delaware on my way home. The engine is murmuring and the Vic’s tires grip the pavement.
As I settle on the bigger road, my phone rings. Isn’t it great that I have a hands-free system, so I can answer? It’s Zed.
“I’m on the road. You are going to cause a collision,” I curse, but playfully.
“What collision, pal, don’t lie.” Zed gets it.
“Of cars, buddy. I am on a dark curve with all sorts of tricky...”
We carry on the banter for a little while, and then Zed signals for seriousness. “Can we meet soon. I need updates,” he says.
“Not until I have passed through home,” I reply. “I have to see Sara.”
“Good, so what’s the latest?”
“I drove to the guild bank, no leads.”
“Too bad.”
“Elder Sweeney says he'll check some more, though.” I remember the old man with his trembling fingers.
“I see, let’s hope something turns up.”
“Nice. So what are you doing?” I ask.
“Not a lot, but you just reminded me to say it. I’ll get to the Crooked and look at the crime scene. Late at night is best.”
“I’ll come join you,” I say. “After I’m done at home.”
“Fine, drive safe.”
Zed makes a great coordinator of magic crime investigations, and was once a good hunter himself. If the Crooked is getting infiltrated by bad witches and warlocks, it needs to be looked at before another disaster strikes, and he can do that. He has confronted and warned a lot of baddies before they even performed their nefarious acts. No one, though, can be arrested and tried before committing an actual magic crime.
Truly he is a guy with some very different approaches, but I never mind it when I report to him. I will certainly go to see him after I am done with my sister.
Sara and I live in a rented home. My income isn’t much, and it’s a bit of an expensive way to go, but we are more comfortable that way. Six months ago, I lived alone in a studio like Kay, but when Sara ran away from Natalia, I had to get a bigger space. I had been in Orchard Park, but once we decide to move, we were lucky to get a nice double story in West Seneca.
The reason Sara left her mother is that she is a free-spirited teenager who doesn’t like too many rules, and her mother is rather too strict and religious. I don’t blame my sister much, anyway, because I had my own problems with her mother, but that’s a long story.
My last stretch of the drive from Tonawanda is Union Road, and that takes me back to the Southgate Plaza, which was where I bought this nice blouse and teal skirt. Emerald Drive is one of the little streets behind the mall.
I park in my driveway. Sara is in the middle of some homework. I must disturb her because we need to deal with her problem, and then I will go out again.
“Sara, I have some things I would like to discuss with you,” I say after we have greeted and hugged one another. “You haven't been yourself lately at school.”
“Who said?” Sara casts me an uneasy smile.
“Listen, sweetie, if there’s anything troubling you, you should say it. That’s why I am here.”
She tightens her face.
“Yes, hun, what is it?”
“I’ve been seeing things, Mel.”
My heart jumps as I recall those breached wards. “Things like what?”
“Crazy things, shadows.”
“Shadows…” I say. “Shadows that do what? Do they threaten you?”
“One does,” she says. “I fear I might have to quit.”
I know those things she speaks of because I haven’t reached this position without some encounters of my own. Trust me, it’s not the greatest road to travel.
“Don’t worry.” I feign calmness. “I will take care of the shadows.”
“Will you, Mel? Please do.”
“Yes, I will, and you certainly won’t quit.”
I sure can do something, but unfortunately for me, the ghosts aren’t the only problem
. There is also the big one of letting Natalia know there is something to be concerned about, and I must be careful how I handle that. My stepmother can certainly jump on it. She hasn't totally given up custody and will restart her battles, her beef being that I put ideas into Sara's head with my—supposedly—witching ways.
It’s going to be an uphill battle, but for now, I will try to forget it. “Let me help you with the math,” I say to Sara.
Twelve
Back on Elmwood, Client E sits in her studio, revising and refining her schemes. Plush in her lap is a pink case made of that very fine, glass-like plastic called polycarbonate. Inside the exquisite translucent thing is a green velvet lining, so soft and cuddly only the most delicate thing could be laid on it and stowed.
“I insist on bringing Casey’s set home,” she says. “I’m the rightful owner.”
Indeed she is, and that expensive receptacle she bought just this afternoon is going to become the dick and balls’ permanent home. The pink is lush, and the green sexy. Those colors are special to her, and all her friends know any cherished gift meant for her must be wrapped in them.
She considers everything. That the mighty witch has refused to part with the heist is a bit of a bummer, but no real impediment. It’s something the client can overcome. And, pursuant to that, she has already decided on a course of action: she will raid The Mage! It’s the way to go.
Before rushing, though, it would be wise to weigh things a bit more carefully. The idea is risky, and one fact stands clear: alone, she could never do it. The Mage is far too big an adversary. Those innocuous jack-o-lanterns that guard her porch are actually a big sign. No simple minnow could ever force her way into the abode of someone who has the power to lift a cock off a living man and say, “I have come to raid…” That would be suicide. She therefore must get assistance.
Immediately she starts a search for the names and faces of those who could help, but unfortunately nothing comes up quick. The brain racking goes on for almost an hour, and she starts to lose hope, but then suddenly a face surfaces in her mind. It’s of someone with great potential, one she has known for a while. “Yes, I will talk to him.” She smiles at the realization. “The Boss.”
And now that she has decided on him, she wonders why she didn’t think about him sooner. He is a great man, a warlock powerful enough to rival The Mage.
Working fast, she picks up the phone and dials him. “Hi, there, Boss.”
“Wow, E, is that you; how is the going?”
“Very well indeed, but man I need your help.” The pink case glints at her eye. Nothing would satisfy her more than enjoying Casey's dick whenever she wanted, wherever she wanted. And better yet, without anyone's consent.
“With what, dear E?” The Boss asks. “I have never known you to want for anything.”
“A small little pick.” She spreads her lips in a grin.
“Hearing you, nothing can be small, right?” The Boss almost chortles. It’s great that he is in such an infectious mood. And if she knows him well enough, he isn’t averse to jumping on adventures.
“A mini break-and-enter,” she says, “or home invasion, if you want me to say more.”
“A little burglary, oh Jove, someone is up to something. Which place then?” The Boss is not into euphemisms.
“Hold it, I will give you the name shortly—but let me just say your job will be to help me get in. What I take will be my business. Then you erase all evidence of our having been present.”
No kidding, this task is so delicate it can only be done when The Mage is away. Any approach while The Mage is home would be disastrous.
“Hey, tell me, where is this job?” The Boss’s enthusiasm is affecting.
The client angles her phone closer to her lips. “M. E’s.” Her voice barely registers. “Mage Extraordinaire.”
“Mage fucking Extraordinaire, did you say!” The Boss gasps like he has been stung by a wasp. “Are you crazy?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Goodness E, why try that? It’s perilous.”
Of course she knows the plan is double, if not triple, risky. “Yes, I know, Boss, but we do it.”
“Listen E; I don’t think you comprehend. Do you know The Mage?”
“Yes, I do, and she has something of mine that I must get.” It’s wise to put things plainly. That’s how you get deals signed.
“Well then, if you insist.” The Boss sighs. “But the consequences will be yours.”
“Yes, I know that. Please just name your price.”
There it is; she has The Boss on her side. She hasn't known him for too long, but her guesses about him were entirely correct. He is a fucking big risk taker.
“I will need quite some time to prepare, and then I will come.” He signs off.
“Never mind, take as much time as you need.”
How great, and what a surprise. The client was thinking The Boss might need a couple of days to spy The Mage’s place, but now it seems he will come tonight, and they can go.
It's all fine. The job will be done.
She raises the pink case and kisses it. Here, a sweet baby comes…
***
They met three years ago in a club. The client was one of the hottest strippers at the time, and being one, she always met tons of nice guys each night she worked. The main job was to strip and do lap dances for them—of course, for the usual gratuities—but truth be told, some days she gave more favors for fatter tips.
Most guys were only so-so and forgettable, but a few were great and generous, and she remembered them. Hands down though, none ever caught her attention like Casey did. There just was something about him that made him so desirable. And he was sweet and charming, even if on the first night he may have been a little too drunk.
That day was a Saturday, the client would always recall. The club was packed. Trips were being made to the VIP rooms, and tips were flowing. Against the rules, girls stalked the darkened parking lots and provided more services.
“When you done, girl?” Casey said in between gulps of his Blue Moon when they were in that private room. His eyes were bleary, but a certain spark illuminated his face.
“What the fuck, are you trying to pick me up, boy?” She'd chirped seductively.
“How ’bout finishin’ at the Crooked. Cab is on me.” He smiled.
“Goodness gracious, you know I have a shift.”
“You could say you don’t feel great anymore and need a break.”
“And give up the tips? Don’t you know I got bills to pay, mister?”
Casey’s eyes went wide with mischief. “I hear you,” he said. “But while talking of tips, how about a single giant one from me? Isn’t that better than small little several?”
“Boy, do you ever give up?”
“Come on, talk to your bosses.”
It had been a first. She knew the risks and had never made herself available for late-night dates with strangers. However, she thought to make an exception for this sweet handsome guy. She did like he said, pretending she was unwell to the madam boss.
Like at all other joints in town, cabs were always close by at the club. Casey hired one and they rode to the Crooked Uncle, far in Cheektowaga. She, then, had no idea his ambitions included her ending up in his bed, although had she read the signals well, she might have. She wasn't too drunk like him, but she agreed to everything. He was thrilling when wasted, what more when he sobered up.
Perhaps as ought to have been predictable, they afterward became boyfriend and girlfriend—and were to remain like that for at least one and a half years. Occasionally she’d cheat on him, but that was only for the first twelve months. In the last six, she could swear she never did. She’d matured and looked forward to being the happy stay-at-home wife, but suddenly Casey hit her with this nuke.
It wasn't working for him anymore; he was done, and she could go fuck…
Well, the truth was he had met this new bitch. Megan.
For a time, Client E did
n't know what to do. She suffered alone in pain, and it almost drove her to insanity, but nothing ever changed. Eventually things became so unbearable, she was left with no option but to consider turning to witchcraft. The knack for that sometimes beautiful and sometimes ugly practice had always been in her, but with the heartbreak, it finally found an outlet.
She joined the Scarlet Coven and was soon initiated. All with the sole aim of harming Megan.
Up till now, however, she still was low in the ranks and could not perform a single act of magical revenge, so she had to turn to The Mage for help. She heard about her from a fellow inductee—a guy named Will—to whom she poured her cheated heart out.
“I hear she’s incredible and willing to help,” said Will. “She can really knock a guy out.”
“Really, can she do that?” she asked.
“Yes, yes.”
Approaching The Mage was still the hard part. How do you recruit a senior whom you aren’t too used to? The client finally managed to coral the popular Mage at a coven revelry a couple months ago.
“Mage, I’m so heartbroken,” she began.
“’Cause of what, my dear?”
“There’s this guy,” she said unsurely. “I’m wondering if you’d be willing to do something to him?”
The Mage wickedly twitched an eyelid. “I only do formal consultations in charming places,” she said. “Book me a hotel room, and we will talk.”
She got her a suite in a brand-name four-star hotel right downtown. Then for herself she took a cheaper room at a lower level. They talked over drinks, in a darkened corner of the hotel’s lobby-level barroom.
“What’s his name?” The Mage gazed soothingly.
“Casey,” she answered. “Casey McLong.”
“Nice name,” remarked The Mage.
“But no nice guy,” said E.
The witch fetched a mirror from her handbag and peered into it. “What would you want done?”
“Anything to revenge my pain,” E answered. “It’s actually the slut he fell for who hurt me more.”
“I see,” said The Mage, gazing again into her glass. “How about we make it hard for them to fuck one another?”