Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel

by Shauna Granger

  “We’re not tourists,” I said, holding my ground. “We just need help.”

  “I suggest you look elsewhere. Now go.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger over my shoulder.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I said quickly, “but two men’s lives are at stake, and I’m desperate. I’m running out of time and I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Before the Wave, many psychics had shops where they read palms and cards for humans because few enough people believed in them that they could manage the number of customers they received. But once we were all out of the closet, humans realized that psychics were just as real as the rest of us, and suddenly their quaint little shops were overrun with humans looking for winning lottery numbers, begging to speak to their passed loved ones, and any other life-altering request you could think of. Within ten years of the Wave, most shops had been shut down. Now it was very difficult to find a shop with a legitimate psychic running it and not some human, witch, or warlock pretending to be a psychic to scam innocent customers out of their hard-earned money.

  Now psychics were just trying to assimilate into society as best they could. Many of them worked from home. Hell, most telemarketers that call and interrupt your dinner are psychics, just trying to earn a living while staying away from the populace. They were often erratic and difficult to talk to, so I mostly stayed away from them and just depended on my own castings for answers to questions I had.

  “Please,” I said again, reaching out a hand to touch the woman, but before my fingers touched her, she roared, her face contorting from the porcelain perfection to a lined and aged face. Her mouth split open into a gaping maw full of needlelike teeth, and she lunged at us.

  “Get out,” she snarled, her back hunching over and her manicured nails turning into stained claws as she tried to swipe at us. I fell back into Ronnie, stumbling over the step and nearly sending us to the floor.

  “Onibaba,” Ronnie hissed, scrambling back and pulling me with her. I could feel the edge of the curtain separating the bar and the den.

  “Wait,” a lazy voice called out, catching all of our attention. I watched as the woman’s face melted back into the perfect mask of beauty before she turned to face the man who spoke.

  He was lounging on the floor, a pipe held in one hand. His head was dropped back so that he was staring at the ceiling as he expelled a stream of white smoke. Ronnie pushed me forward to help me back to my feet and off of her. I straightened my jacket, tucking my hair behind my ears before taking a step forward. The Onibaba hissed at me as I walked by, but I kept my shoulders straight and refused to look at her.

  “Excuse me?” I said when I stood close enough to the man that he could hear me whisper.

  “Sit,” he said, waving a hand at the cushions scattered around him. There were two other people with him, a man and a woman. The woman’s head was resting on his thigh, and he dropped his empty hand to toy with her curly brown hair. The second man was lying on the floor, not touching anyone or anything, not even using a pillow to cushion his head. His eyes were wide and glazed over, a strange smile tugging at his lips, making his cheek twitch.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Ronnie. She was staring at the man on the floor, watching his cheek jump. I wondered how much opium he’d had already – too much, by the looks of it. I took a breath and crossed my ankles before lowering myself to sit on the floor. I had to reach up and tug on Ronnie’s hand to get her to sit next to me, finally blinking and tearing her eyes away from the man.

  “You’re looking for help,” the man said, not making it a question, but if he’d heard me pleading with the demon, then it wasn’t that impressive.

  “Yes,” I said as I reached into my pocket to dig out Roane’s ring.

  “There is a man missing,” he said. Wrapping his lips around the pipe, he took three quick puffs, holding the vapors in for a moment before passing the pipe to the woman on his thigh. “His life is in danger,” he went on, expelling the smoke.

  “Look, guy,” I said, cutting him off as my temper started to rise. “You heard me say all that right over there.” I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder. “You’re not fooling me, all right? I’m not some two bit human fresh off the bus. If you’re just gonna waste my fucking time, we’ll be on our way.” I tapped Ronnie on the knee and started to get to my feet. The couple snickered, making me pause to glare at them. I shook my head and stood.

  “Wait, wait,” he said, pushing up on his elbows to look up at me. “I’m sorry. Please, sit.”

  “I’m good, thanks,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Here…” He dug into his pants pocket until he came out with a black leather wallet. “Go see my friend,” he said as he dug through the many creased business cards until he found the one he was looking for. He held the white card out to me.

  “Your friend, huh?” I asked, arching a brow at him. “Is he as helpful as you are?”

  “I said I was sorry,” he said, glaring at me. “Do you want the help or not?”

  “I do.”

  “Then go see my friend, tell him Micha sent you.” He held the card out for me, waving it in his impatience. I glanced at Ronnie again, but she just shrugged at me, leaving it up to me to decide. With a sigh, I reached out and took the card, my fingers grazing Micha’s as I did so.

  Micha’s eyes went wide and his body shook before his back arched. His fingers grasped at mine as the vision took him. My body went cold as I watched him convulse on the floor, and I had to wrench my hand free of his to stop it. Clutching my hand to my chest, I stepped back to place my body against Ronnie’s.

  The woman scrambled to Micha’s head, putting it in her lap and brushing her fingers over his sweaty forehead, making soft, soothing noises. She spared me an evil look, and I knew she wanted to hit me, throw me from this place to make up for what I’d just put her man through.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, shaking my head. I could still feel the shivers running over my body like millions of invisible ants racing over my skin.

  “Just go,” she hissed at me.

  “Be careful,” Micha rasped, stopping me a second time. I turned and looked at him. His eyes were open, but distant, like he was looking through me. “She is watching; she is waiting.” Then his eyes fell closed and he passed out in the girl’s lap, his body going limp.

  “C’mon,” Ronnie whispered, tugging on my arm, leading me out through the arch.

  I was more than a little tempted to stop at the bar for a stiff one to chase away the chill that had settled deep in my bones, holding on with claws, but I knew I didn’t have time for that right now. Ronnie and I hurried out of the bar, arm in arm as we went, dodging through gyrating bodies and swift waitresses. My head spun as we turned the many darkened corners to get to the front door. We burst through, the cold night air slamming into us, making us gasp as we sucked in the cleansing air.

  “Whoa there,” Bastian said, holding the door open for us as we caught our breath. “Matt, you okay?”

  “Fine,” I gasped, holding up a hand to wave his concern away. “Fine, thanks, B. See you around.” I pulled Ronnie along with me as I rushed back to my car at the end of the parking lot. Bastian blinked after us, but being half-troll, it was particularly hard to offend him just by being curt, which I was grateful for; one less person I had to worry about right then.

  We sat in the car for a few moments, the doors locked and the heat turned on high. My hands were shaking as I tried to grip the steering wheel. Ronnie was tugging at the ends of her hair, clenching and unclenching her fists to crush the curls. When my shoulders stopped shaking, I reached for the gearshift to put it in reverse, but Ronnie’s hand was on mine, stopping me.

  “What,” she said, blinking those big eyes at me as she tried to think of the question she wanted to ask. “What the hell happened in there?”

  “Which part? The demon threatening to rip our faces off to eat them, the drugged out psychic toying with us, or the vampire smorgasbord?” I as
ked, pulling my hand away from the gearshift.

  “No, the vision he had,” she said, making me cringe. I recovered quickly by looking out the windshield at the climbing ivy-covered wall we were parked in front of.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly.

  “Who is she?” Ronnie pressed. “Do you think he means Theo?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I said with a nod. “Who else could he mean?”

  “So what did he mean, ‘she is watching, she is waiting’? What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, could be anything,” I said, pressing my hands to my face and rubbing, pulling on my cheeks before letting my hands fall. “I don’t really have time to worry about that right now. Can we go?”

  “Sure, sure,” she said quickly.

  “Here,” I said, digging the crumped card out of my jacket pocket and tossing it to her. “Look up the address, will you? Tell me how to get there.”

  Ronnie pulled out her phone and looked up the address. On our way over, Ronnie messed with the vents, directing the hot air away from her now that she was warm enough, but I was still shaking; I wondered if I would ever be warm again. I turned the heat down but tightened my scarf at a red light. In less than ten minutes, we were pulling up to the curb in front of Amazing Abidan’s, the stencil on the windows claiming he was the world’s best tarot card reader and renowned medium.

  “Guess this is the place,” Ronnie said, looking from the card to the run down little shop, sandwiched between an Italian deli and a liquor store. All three shops had bars on the windows and doors.

  “Yeah, seems classy,” I said, turning off the car.

  “Ready?”

  “You gotta stop asking me that,” I said and pushed open my door.

  Bells chimed at our entrance as I pushed the front door open. The inside was nearly as dark as the street outside, lit only by candles and one lonely wall sconce that was draped with a purple scarf. Incense was burning in two corners, filling the tiny room with curling smoke and an almost choking smell that made my eyes water. On the far wall (and I use the word “far” loosely since the entire room was smaller than my kitchen), there was a small altar set up to the goddess Ganesh, her dancing feet and swirling trunk lit by half a dozen tea lights.

  “Hello?” Ronnie called out, startling me after the dead quiet. “Sorry,” she whispered. Off to our left, we heard the shuffle of feet, and I realized there was a doorway draped with strands of black beads. One tan hand reached through to part the curtain before a man’s head popped out.

  “Good evening,” he said in a heavily accented voice that spoke of the spice trade and far away deserts. His head was wrapped in a turban and he wore slippers on his feet.

  “Hi,” I said, clearing my throat. “Um, Micha said to say he sent me?”

  “Ah, Micha,” he said with a nod, folding his hands behind his back to keep from touching us in the cramped space. “You’ve come to have your fortune read, yes? Follow me.” And before I could correct him, Abidan turned and headed back through the beaded curtain. We followed him, the beads falling around us, sounding like rain before they settled.

  “Actually, we’re not here for that,” I said as my eyes adjusted to the new surroundings. It was just as dimly lit in here, but I was pleased to see that it was at least twice as large as the last room and there was a large round table set in the middle. It was the kind of table that humans used to use when séances were in fashion. There were only three chairs set at the table, one by itself and two next to each other on the other side.

  Abidan took the lone chair and motioned with his hand to the other two for us to sit.

  “Tell me why you are here then,” Abidan said, folding his hands together in his lap as he reclined in the chair.

  “Shouldn’t you know that?” Ronnie asked, arcing one brow at him.

  “Ronnie,” I admonished, but surprisingly, Abidan only chuckled.

  “Touché,” Abidan said. “But that is not quite how these things work.”

  “Right, I’m sorry,” I said, kicking Ronnie in the shin under the table.

  “Gah!” Ronnie exclaimed, bending over to rub her leg before she punched me in the shoulder.

  “Knock it off!” I hissed at her through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry,” I said to Abidan. “I’m actually hoping you could help me locate someone. They’ve been kidnapped and held against their will.”

  “Seems like a job for the police,” Abidan said.

  “Yeah, well, the guy who is missing is a Fae prince, so…” my voice trailed off and I just shrugged.

  “Oh, yes, the Fae,” Abidan said with a nod. “They do not trust anyone, especially the police.”

  “Right.”

  “So they came to you for help?”

  “Sort of,” I said. When he tilted his head at me, I just dug into my pocket and fished out Roane’s ring. “Anyway, I have something of his; I thought maybe you could get something from it? Tell me where he is and if he’s still alive?” I felt a stitch form in my chest at the thought of finding out that Roane was in fact already dead, which of course would mean my death. I wondered if I could get out of the city before the Dunhallows caught on.

  “Certainly,” Abidan said, pulling me out of my thoughts of an escape plan. “Place the item on the table.” He indicated the table with a nod of his head, still not moving his hands. I glanced at Ronnie and held my breath as I rose out of my seat and reached out to place the ring in the middle of the table, as close as I could get to his side.

  When I was back in my seat, my hands in my lap, Abidan unfolded his hands and stood. He took a breath before he took the ring in hand. He was able to sit back down and place his other hand over the ring, holding it between his palms, before the visions took him. With such an amazing amount of control, I understood how he could still be running a shop without losing his mind.

  His eyelids fluttered as if in a dream, watching the scenes flicker by. His lips parted with a breath, and I found myself clutching the arms of my chair, digging my nails into the wood as we waited.

  Abidan’s head flew back as if smacked before his body bent forward over his knees. A small noise of pain escaped him before he could straighten up again. His head flew the opposite direction, and I saw a tiny trickle of red leak out of the corner of his mouth. Then his body arched against the back of the chair, his shoulders pressing into the wood until it creaked as he rode the seizure. Ronnie and I shared a terrified look but dared not speak while he was in the trance. He had to come out of it on his own and naturally.

  It felt like hours sitting there, watching Abidan take a beating I knew Roane had lived through. I just wanted to pry his hands open and take the ring back, break him out of that trance and apologize. Finally, Abidan opened his eyes. They were bright with power, the visions lighting his dark eyes until they were near golden and shining in the dark. With one trembling hand, he set the ring down on the table, very close to the edge and too far away from me to grab. I heard him breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth as he calmed himself, sitting back in his chair, holding onto the armrests much like Ronnie and me.

  “I can see why you want to find him,” Abidan finally said, breaking the silence like the popping of a soap bubble. “You need to find him soon.”

  “Why?” I asked, though it seemed obvious I wanted to find him sooner rather than later.

  “They are killing him,” he said, “slowly.”

  “Killing him? Why?” I inched forward in my chair, putting my hands on the edge of the table.

  “They are not intending to,” Abidan said, “but it is happening nonetheless. The prince is in a cage made of iron, and they are torturing him to use his powers.”

  “Oh,” the sound escaped from me in a sigh of air. An iron cage. Now that made sense, finally. Iron was the only metal that could harm fairies and the only type of metal that could keep them caged. Human police had spent a lot of tax payer money to fortify their jail cells with iron bars; not that they had an eas
y time of actually catching fairies, but they wanted to be prepared in case they did.

  “How is that killing him though?” Ronnie asked, but I had a pretty good idea.

  “It’s an actual cage, isn’t it? Not a cell, but a cage?” I asked, and Abidan nodded. “So he’s touching the iron constantly, isn’t he?” Again, Abidan nodded.

  “How are they torturing him?” Ronnie asked.

  “Cattle prods,” Abidan said in a voice hardly loud enough to be heard.

  “Dear gods,” Ronnie whispered behind a hand. That explained the seizure we watched Abidan live through.

  “Okay,” I said, shaking my head to clear it, “time to focus. Who has him?”

  “I do not know,” Abidan said sadly.

  “What? How can you not know?” I demanded.

  “They have kept him hooded; he has not seen their faces, not even once. When he is fed, they are hooded and his cage is draped in cloth,” Abidan explained and I found myself gripping the table hard enough to carve half-moons into the wood.

  “Did you see him get taken?”

  “I did.”

  “And what about then? Didn’t you see their faces then?”

  “I am afraid not. He was in an alley and they took him by surprise.”

  “A fairy? They took a fairy by surprise?” Ronnie asked. “Bullshit.” Abidan held up his hands and shrugged. It was what it was.

  “Fine,” I said, holding up a hand to stop the argument. “Did you get any details, anything we can use?”

  “They are human,” Abidan said, and if I hadn’t already tried to get a witch’s signature and failed, it would have surprised me, but not now.

  “And any idea, any at all, of where they are?”

  “I am afraid not. I am sorry,” Abidan said, and I believed him. This guy was the real deal; if he’d been a charlatan, he would’ve have made up any ridiculous story just to satisfy our curiosity and bilk us for as much money as possible.

  “I would think,” Abidan said, “if humans were clever enough to catch a fairy as difficult to catch as a royal, that they would be using his power to grant wishes, grand wishes. I do not think they would waste the prize they had with petty little treasures.”