Wytchcraft
Shauna Granger
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author.
Published by Shauna Granger
Copyright © 2014 by Shauna Granger
Cover art by Shauna Granger
For my mom, Cheryl,
who gave me my first Urban Fantasy novel.
Table of Contents
Title
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
The cupboards were practically bare. My stores were dangerously low and I was completely out of the vervain I was searching for. I’d have to go visit Ronnie soon, but my tab was getting a little out of hand, and I didn’t like the idea of adding to it. Closing the cupboard, I decided against starting the potion. If I didn’t do it right, it would blow up in my face. Literally. And I just waxed my eyebrows.
“Gonna have to find work soon, Artie.” I reached to scratch my black, smush-faced cat behind the ears as he purred on the kitchen table. “We’ll both be eating canned tuna if I’m not careful.” Artemis rolled on his back, four black paws stretching in opposite directions before he became boneless.
Reaching for the fridge door, I bent over to poke through leftover take-out containers. Just as I grabbed a cold eggroll, someone banged on my front door. A glance at the clock told me it was well after midnight. It wasn’t odd for someone to come by at that time of night, but I wasn’t expecting anyone. Biting off a hunk of eggroll, I nudged the fridge closed with my hip, grabbing my baseball bat on my way to the door. Sure, I could hex whoever it was or use my knockout powder, but if it was a friend, they wouldn’t thank me for it in the morning. At least the bat was threatening enough to give someone pause and me a second to react.
I blew my bangs out of my eyes and rose up on my toes to check the peephole just as my impatient caller banged again. Why did they have to put peepholes so high? Five foot three wasn’t that short, but trying to look out my front door made me feel like a child. I couldn’t see his face, but I saw the curly tuft of light red hair. I drew in a deep breath and caught a whiff of alcohol and sour garbage. Through the door, I heard the distinct sound of a nose being blown. I prayed he had a handkerchief, but I doubted it.
“What do you want, troll?” I demanded through the closed door. Hefting my bat in one hand, I munched the last bite of eggroll.
“Whot? Through the door now?” he whined.
“Why should I let you in?” I asked around the mouthful.
“I’ll pay!”
“For what?” I opened the door as far as the security chain would allow.
“For work,” he pressed. I did not like working for trolls, even half trolls. Artemis mrrowed loudly, reminding me of the thought of sharing food with him. Sighing, I pressed my forehead to the doorframe, feeling my resolve to shut the door in his face slipping away. After all, I had known Jimmy for a few years. Every once in a while, he got a get-rich-quick-scheme into his head and came looking for a spell or a charm to help him. Unsurprisingly, his plans usually backfired, but work was so slow lately, I didn’t really have the luxury of turning down his money.
“For the love of frogs,” I cursed. “Fine!” I slammed the door to release the chain but kept the bat in hand and stormed back into my living room, not waiting to see if he’d follow.
“Thanks, Mattie,” he breathed, shutting the door behind him.
“Matilda,” I corrected, “only my friends call me Mattie.” Sitting on the couch, I tucked my feet under me, leaving him the uncomfortable, straight-backed chair. “What do you want?”
“I need to catch a fairy,” he said. He sat on the edge of the chair, knee bouncing, and clutched a worn, porkpie hat in his knobby fingers. The tuft of hair on top of his head didn’t hide his batwing-like ears. He might’ve passed for any other fae – maybe even human – if it weren’t for those ears.
“You’re serious?” I blinked at him.
“Yeah, whot of it?”
“Well, it’s dangerous for one thing. And I do mean fatal.” I paused to lick oil from my fingers, watching his reaction. He seemed excited at my warning, maybe because I hadn’t dismissed him. “And it’s expensive.”
“I have money,” he rushed, jamming a hand in his pocket, pulling out a pouch. He pulled the thing open and spilled a small mound of jewels on my coffee table. They gleamed ruby red, emerald green, and sapphire blue.
“That’s a start,” I said, keeping my face schooled, picking at the chipped blue polish on my nails.
“Fine!” He threw a wad of human currency on the table. I didn’t want to need his money, but rent was up last week, and I didn’t have enough in my bank account to cover the check.
“What are you gonna do with the fairy once you’ve got it?”
“Never you mind!” he growled, finding some confidence.
“Well if that’s how you want it, then no,” I said firmly, waving at the door.
“Whot?” His jaw dropped.
“Look, I don’t aid and abet criminals. If I don’t know what you’re going to do with it, I won’t help you.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.
“Money,” he said.
“What?”
“I want money!”
“You have money!” I waved at the pile on my table.
“Phsst,” he shook his head, “that’s nothing compared to whot a fairy can give me.” He was practically drooling. He was an idiot if he thought he could get a fortune out of a fairy, but if that’s all he wanted, then I could at least sleep at night. I’d never understood the obsession trolls had with money. Ever since they lost their dominion over the bridges of the world, their greed had grown exponentially.
I stared at Jimmy. We were the same age and grew up not too far apart from each other, but we’d taken decidedly different paths. My parents had died when I was sixteen, leaving me on my own with very little money, forcing me to figure out how to survive. Luckily, Ronnie’s parents took me in until I was on my feet. I was out of their house by eighteen, starting my own business of spells and charms for hire. My mother was an accomplished witch, and luckily, she’d spent the majority of my life in the kitchen, teaching me how to spell and cast until I could brew anything in my sleep. Money wasn’t always flush, but I managed. Jimmy didn’t really manage.
Jimmy was crafty enough, sneaky enough, and even smart enough if he tried, but he was an outcast who had to fend for himself, and he didn’t do it well. His father was a troll, and they weren’t known for their parenting awards. His mother was a human who was more than a little embarrassed of her lifetime reminder of a summer fling she’d had with a creepy bridge-dweller. So the huma
ns didn’t want him, and the trolls wouldn’t even acknowledge him. Damn, I actually felt bad for the kid.
“All right, fine,” I sighed, climbing to my feet, leaving my bat on the floor. “But you don’t catch a fairy, you know.”
“How’s that?”
“You steal their token.” I walked into the kitchen and pulled out a wooden disk, some oil, and herbs. I was careful to make sure he couldn’t see what I added to my grandmother’s mortar. I ground the mixture with the warm pestle and applied it to the wooden disk. The grain stained a darker color. I whispered a spell over the talisman so he couldn’t catch the words. It was all done in less than five minutes. I stared down at the disk, feeling a little anticlimactic.
“That’s it?” he asked skeptically, taking the talisman. I saw him glance at the pile of jewels and cash on the table. Magic wasn’t all sparks and bangs and smoke; sometimes it was just quiet power that people other than witches didn’t understand.
“You still have to find the field where their token is. This will lead you to it – the token, not the field. Once you have it, it has to answer your call and grant you one wish,” I said as I moved over to the table, sweeping the jewels toward me and gathering up the paper bills before he could snatch any of it back. It wasn’t my fault he’d offered it all before he knew how quick the charm would be.
“Whot’s the token?”
“A four-leaf clover.”
“Whot’s so hard about finding that?” he asked, making me laugh as I crammed the bills into the back pocket of my jeans.
“They’ll have hidden it in a field of clover.” I walked back into the kitchen, the jewels balanced precariously in my cupped hands. Dumping them on the counter, I opened a drawer and fished out a black pouch from the stash I kept for charms for my customers.
“So?” Jimmy pressed, having followed me into the kitchen.
“For every ten thousand three-leaf clovers, there’s one four-leaf clover.” I dropped the jewels into the pouch, pulling the drawstrings closed.
“You’re joking!” His mouth hung open showing me his yellowing teeth. I crinkled my nose, pulling my eyes away.
“That’ll find it.” I nodded at the disk in his hand. “Once you get your wish, you have to give the token back though. Otherwise, you risk the wrath of the Sidhe.” I saw the flicker of fear cross his face before he clutched the disk to his chest, turned, and was out the door with a slam.
I shook my head as I pulled the money that would see me through the next couple of months out of my pocket.
“Careful what you wish for, troll,” I sang. I thumbed through the wad of cash, straightening out the bills until they were all going the same direction. Once I counted out how much was there, I blinked in surprise. Looking up at the waiting yellow eyes of my cat, I said, “Wow, Artie, it looks like we have enough to pay rent, buy groceries, pay off my tab with Ronnie, and might have a nickel or two left over.”
“Mrrrow,” Artemis replied as he meandered out of the kitchen and into the living room.
“Yes, and some fresh cream,” I said, scratching him under the chin when he jumped up onto the table. He batted at a ruby I missed. I snatched it away before he could knock it off the table and lose it forever under the couch. Artemis waved a paw at me, trying to get his gem back, as I picked up the pouch with the others. I shoved the wad of cash into my purse on my way into the bedroom to hide the precious stones. I kept one dark emerald out for Ronnie. She’d been letting me drag out my tab for over two months; it would be a nice little thank you.
I grabbed my coat and scarf, shrugging them on before grabbing my purse and smiling at the folded bills tucked inside. I dropped Ronnie’s emerald into the hidden zipper pocket so I wouldn’t lose it and left. I threw the usual locks on the door before setting a freezing charm on the keyhole. It was the middle of the night, and most of the human population was fast asleep, but the supernaturals were all wide-eyed and bushytailed, and the metal locks wouldn’t do anything to deter most of them and the iron lock was a hasp you could only lock and unlock from the inside. At least my freezing spell would slow them enough that they just might pass my door and move on to easier prey.
I hit the dimly lit lobby after a short and shaky elevator ride. The entire place smelled like powdery perfume, and my nose twitched, threatening a sneeze, as I walked over to the front counter. The werewolf landlady was thumbing through her copy of Vollmond Magazine.
“Heya, Frankie,” I said, plopping my purse on the counter that came up just past my chest.
“Mattie,” she said, her steely eyes never leaving the glossy pages. Her trendy, spikey hair was blue this week. I caught sight of my reflection in the glass display behind the counter and quickly smoothed out my own black hair, tucking the short ends behind my ears. I wasn’t as brave with my hair as Frankie, but I could see my purple highlights had washed out almost completely and were in desperate need of a touch up.
“You’re two days late on rent.” Frankie was a little curt, but having a Were family managing your apartment building was pretty nice. They were a built-in security system. Their thicker skin kept them immune from most magics, and their inhuman strength made them a formidable first line of defense against robbers. Hell, the human police had to come up with a whole new formula for their bullets since lead had no effect on them. However, lead did incapacitate the Fae, so the human police had to carry double now. As for witches? Our DNA was almost identical to humans, so anything fired out of the barrel of a gun would cut us down just as easily.
“Yeah,” I said, digging out the cash. “Sorry about that, but I got it covered now.”
“No checks.” She glanced sidelong at me, her pupils dilating, stealing the grey of her eyes. I swallowed, trying not to let my nerves show.
“Right,” I said, remembering what happened the last time my check bounced. I still needed to patch that hole in my kitchen wall. “I have cash.”
“Fifty dollar late fee.” Frankie was a woman of few words and finely manicured nails.
“Fifty! Are you serious?” I demanded, checking my voice a little late. Frankie closed her magazine, set it on the counter top, and turned her full attention to me. Not something I really wanted, to be honest with you. I suddenly felt two feet tall under the larger woman’s stare.
“Twenty five dollars each day it’s late,” she said slowly. “You’re two days late. Twenty five times two is what?”
“Fifty,” I said with a sigh, pulling out more cash and seeing my grocery list shrink in my mind as I handed over the money. Frankie took a moment to count it in front of me, being very deliberate as she laid out each bill, the tips of her nails clicking on the countertop. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket, not wanting her to see the chipping blue polish. She went so far as to pull out one of those highlighter pens the human bank tellers used to check for counterfeit bills.
My stomach knotted up. It hadn’t occurred to me that Jimmy might’ve pulled a fast one and passed me fake notes. She marked each bill with a quick tick, each one showing the same yellowish-brown color. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing until Frankie gathered them up and shoved them under her collar and into her cleavage.
“See ya, Mattie,” she said, effectively dismissing me. I blew out the breath I had been holding and made my way to the door that led to the stairwell to the street. Ronnie’s shop was the ground floor of our building, but you had to go out to the street in order to get to it.
It was cold and wet outside after the first rain of the season. I smelled the salt on the sidewalk as I turned toward Ronnie’s door. I saw her through the window. She was just pulling down the shade and closing up for the rest of the night but hadn’t locked the front door yet. Her tiny silver bells jingled merrily, announcing my arrival as the door fell closed behind me.
“Hey, Mattie,” Ronnie greeted me with a smile, climbing out of the window display. Ronnie and I were only a few months apart in age, having come up through school together, but she had the
ageless face of a child. I always wondered if she had a little pixie blood, but her long, curly, orange-red hair was too thick to ever belong to a pixie.
“Heya, Ron,” I said, returning her hug.
“I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted. I’m closing up early.” She started toward the back of the shop where the cash register was.
“No problem.” I followed her. Ronnie kept her shop well stocked with too many shelves that threatened to spill over if customers weren’t careful with their purses or elbows. “I really just wanted to settle up.”
“Oh?” Ronnie glanced at me over her shoulder, not in the least bit worried about walking into anything. I didn’t blame her skepticism. In the last couple of months, I’d only been making enough money to keep a roof over my head and enough food in my belly to keep from starving – and sometimes not even that much. If I hadn’t been her best friend, she wouldn’t have let me keep my tab open so long.
“Yes,” I said as we reached the counter. Once again I dug through my purse, pulling out money. Ronnie’s eyes went wide at the sight of the bills. I knew she didn’t actually believe I had enough to cover the whole tab.
“Where’d you get it?” she asked, taking the stack of bills. I smiled when she put it into the safe under the counter without counting it like Frankie had.
“Troll,” I said casually, digging into my purse for the emerald. Why is it, when you’re looking for something, every purse becomes bottomless?
“What’d you do? Rob him?” she asked, laughing lightly.
“No, no.” I felt the edge of the gem and closed my hand around it. “He wanted an expensive charm, and before I could give him a price, he started throwing money at me.”
“Stupid bridge dweller,” she said, shaking her head.
“He also gave me a handful of jewels, and I thought you might like this one.” I held up the rich green stone between my thumb and forefinger, enjoying Ronnie’s slaw-jawed reaction.
“Oh, no, Mattie, we’re square,” she said quickly, waving her hands at me.
Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel Page 1