by Jamie Davis
“Winnie, dear, it’s so good to see you. I’m glad that you’re coming in, even if you can’t sell a thing. Shows you’re standing up to the Resolution. I still can’t believe that it passed.”
“Neither can I, Mrs. Paulson. I did find a way to keep Charmed in business, though, without violating the new rules. I can repair magically enhanced items. According to the law, it isn’t the same as creating new ones, or casting directed spells myself. I’m here this morning to notify my first new customer that her item has been repaired.”
“Oh, well that’s very nice.” Mrs. Paulson leaned in and whispered, “I need a specific charm, and wondered if you could come in and … you know?”
Winnie was shocked. This was an upstanding member of the Chamber of Commerce, asking her to break the law.
Winnie glanced nervously around, then fixed her eyes on Mrs. Paulson. “Be careful. Someone could be watching.”
“Don’t worry, dear. Everyone on this street knows you, and what a nice girl you are. They would never turn you in. Just the other day I was talking to Robert Jenkins, said he’d pay just about anything to get a ledger for next year like the one he’s using now. The man has no idea how he’ll balance the books without it. I don’t know what those idiots in the Assembly were thinking, passing this stupid law.”
Winnie was silent, glancing around again at the few people passing on the street. No one seemed to be paying any attention, but Red Leg informants were never far.
“Don’t give any mind to what others are doing, Winnie. Come inside, let me tell you what I need.”
Mrs. Paulson led Winnie inside the flower shop, then into her rear office.
“Winnie, dear, I think one of my employees is stealing from me. I’m missing an average of more than a hundred dollars a day from what I expect to be making each week. I don’t know who’s taking it. Everyone on staff has worked here for years. I need a way to identify the person taking my money.”
“Mrs. Paulson, I don’t know what you want me to do,” Winnie said, frustrated.
The woman was asking for much more than a harmless charm. Technically, any magic that directly affected a person was considered part of the Sable trade, and thus forbidden. When magic interacted directly with a middling, it always left a residual effect. Over time, that cumulative effect could cause lasting harm. That was why menders — chanters who healed magical injuries — were needed. Mrs. Paulson didn’t deserve to have her livelihood pilfered, but Winnie wasn’t sure it was worth causing an employee’s future harm, even a dishonest one.
“Just think about it. You’re great at what you do. It’s all your mother ever wants to talk about. She says you’re leaps and bounds better at casting spells and charms than she’s ever been, even in her prime. Go on, open your shop. But I’d be willing to share a month’s potential losses if you can help me stop the thief.”
“I’ll think about it, Mrs. Paulson, but I can’t promise anything.”
Winnie smiled, then turned to leave. Mrs. Paulson followed her to the front door.
“A lot of us shop owners in the Chamber of Commerce aren’t happy with Resolution 84. We’re used to having easy access to magic solutions. The right person with the right connections could go far if they’re willing to help where needed. You should really keep that in mind.”
Winnie nodded, left the flower shop, and headed next door to Charmed. Her thoughts were everywhere. What her neighbor proposed was illegal, immoral, and a possible answer to her prayers. The repair shop plan was good, but it would take time to build that new business and generate the sales needed to cover overhead, let alone her mother’s expenses.
Winnie unlocked the shop and turned the sign in the door from Closed to Open out of habit. She looked around at the empty store, and the lone repair item sitting naked on the shelf. It wasn’t even a paying job. Mrs. Adams had paid for her repair with a slip of paper.
She took out her phone, looked at the repair ticket for Mrs. Adam’s clock, tapped in the digits, and waited through the rings.
On the third ring, a female voice answered. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Adams?”
“Yes.”
“This is Winnie from Charmed. Your clock is finished. You can come pick it up anytime tomorrow.”
“Excellent. Were you able to keep the original functionality? Does it work as before?”
“Good as new. I’ll show you the adjustments I made when you pick it up.”
“I can’t wait. I’m used to knowing my husband’s comings and goings. It’d been difficult since the clock stopped working. I’ll come by in the afternoon after lunchtime.”
“I’ll be here. See you then.”
Winnie disconnected the call then collapsed in her desk chair, considering her possible options and any potential plans she could put in place.
Mrs. Adams was a part of those plans. Her recommendation and word of mouth would be important to getting the shop quickly building a name among her society friends. Coupled with Merrilyn’s connections, Winnie could ensure regular customer traffic.
But that wouldn’t be enough.
Yes, steady customer flow was necessary, but even a busy repair business couldn’t compare to the potential income from work like what Mrs. Paulson was proposing.
Was there something Winnie could do to help her neighbor? She’d never tried that kind of magic before, but it couldn’t be any harder than creating some of the more complex charms on utensils and tools that she’d cast in the past. Heck, the clock had required a charm that bordered the Sable trade. It worked by tracking Mr. Adams’s whereabouts.
Maybe there was a way to adapt that existing charm to Mrs. Paulson’s needs.
Fixing the clock reminded Winnie that she still needed to contact Artos. He was interested in her methods of masking magical charms. If she could sell him her technique, then she might be able to pay for Mom’s medications. She hoped Artos accepted that payment for his help saving her store — best to repay him quickly and get it over with.
Her mind was still pondering the problem of dealing with Artos Merrilyn when her phone chirped. She looked at the screen. It was Tris. She tapped to answer her friend’s call.
“Hi Tris, what’s up?”
“I just needed to talk to someone before I explode here at work and lose my job. My boss is a complete jerk and fired another chanter maid because she couldn’t fix the building’s central vacuum system for him.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Oh, there’s a problem with the vortex charm that creates the suction on each floor. The building cleaning staff is supposed to maintain it, but most of them are middlings and don’t have the ability to keep it working properly when it starts to malfunction.”
“Why did your boss fire the one person who might be able to repair it?”
“Because he a bigoted idiot, that’s why. He hates that he has to associate with chanters to keep the building running. I don’t suppose you could come by and take a look at it? I don’t have the time and I’m afraid he’ll take his frustration out on me next.”
“I suppose I could come by after I close up the shop. Will you still be there?”
“Sure. I’m not going anywhere. This HVAC air conditioning system is having serious issues. I’m going to be here all night at this rate.”
“Alright, look for me later on, say around seven?”
“That works. Stop off and pick up sandwiches for dinner. We can eat on my break and I’ll fill you in on what I think the problem is.”
Tris hung up the phone and Winnie thought about the trouble her friend was having. A lot of middlings looked down on chanters as cheats and thieves. She supposed it was jealousy.
Tris was good at what she did or her boss would have fired her long ago, but if he got angry enough he might forget that he needed her. Winnie was happy to do what she could to smooth over her friend’s problems and fix the vacuum system. She also wondered what that maid position paid. Maybe she could pick up some extra wor
k there.
She texted her mom that she would be home late that night and not to wait up, and then she set to finishing up the remaining work at the shop.
As she worked, she thought about her financial options. She needed to find more work and find it soon or her options were going to narrow down to the less desirable and less legal options open to her. It was like her future was filled with a choice between bigots and discrimination or a partnership with Artos and constant run-ins with the Red Legs.
Her mother’s needs overrode her pride.
Did they override her moral compass, too?
CHAPTER 11
Winnie took the bus downtown after closing shop then picked up dinner for her and Tris.
She walked to the building where her friend worked, entering through the revolving door out front and immediately turning toward the lobby stairwell. She left it two flights down and entered the boiler room. Exposed pipes and wiring yawned across the ceiling as Winnie wound her way through the noisy maze of machinery. She’d been here a few times before and thought she knew her way.
Winnie turned the corner and saw Tris seated at a workbench, leaning over a large box, hands buried to her elbows. She tapped the girl on her shoulder.
Tris jumped in her seat, cursing as she scraped her arm against the repair panel opening. “Damn, Winnie, why didn’t you text me you were here? You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry, Tris. I didn’t expect you to be so on edge. Look. I brought dinner.” Winnie held up the bag of sandwiches. “Stop working for a minute and eat something. Then you can show me what I’m supposed to fix.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry to get to work, Win. It’s a mess. The central vac system wasn’t designed properly from the beginning and it’s been patched so many times, the spells often counteract each other and it blows dirt out rather than picking it up.”
Winnie laughed. “Sounds like a disaster.”
“It’s not funny. That’s what got the last girl fired.”
“I guess you’re right.” Winnie paused, searching for her best next words. “About that last girl. Has Mr. Hodges filled the position?”
“You can’t be interested. It’s some magical repair work, but it’s mostly housekeeping and janitorial. You have the shop, don’t you?”
“I just found out that it won’t be enough to cover things. My mom’s meds just went up again. They’re going to cost me three times as much. I can afford this month’s dose, but I’m broke after that. I need a part-time job to cover the difference between what the shop makes and what I need to cover rent and meds.”
“I don’t know, Winnie. You don’t deal well with people like my boss. Hodges is a racist, misogynist asshole, and he’ll bait you just to fight. Trust me: you don’t want to work here.”
“You work here. You seem to do fine.”
“I hide from him most of the time. He also knows he needs me to keep things running. I’ve fixed just about everything here at least once; I’m the only one who knows how to keep the lights on. His tenants would never let him fire me. They get how valuable I am. That doesn’t keep him from giving me grief about what kind of chanter bitch I am, but whatever.”
“How do you put up with it?”
“You know me, Winnie. I’m good at keeping my head down and ignoring the crap. But you’re always looking for challenges and opportunities to prove your worth. You wouldn’t last a week.”
“Well, that’s all different now. If Mom gets much worse, she won’t be able to take care of herself at all. I’ll have to find her round-the-clock care or put her in a home. And both of those options are even more expensive than the meds. My only choice is to suck it up and deal.”
“Alright. I’ll tell him I found someone else to fill the job. It’s night work, so you should still be able to run the shop.”
“I have to. I need every penny. Thanks, Tris. I appreciate it.”
“It’s your life. Just don’t take it out on me when Hodges decides to unload on you and start an argument. If you get fired, he’ll come and blame me. Remember that.”
Winnie considered her prospects. If she could make enough at night, she could possibly cover the escalated cost of meds. Maybe.
She could tolerate a lot for her mom.
Because, of course, Winnie owed her everything.
———
“Durham! You slacker bitch, get over here.”
Winnie straightened from where she was clearing a clogged drain pipe one frustrated scoop at a time and turned around. She wanted to cry, exhausted after a week of working herself raw at the shop all day before coming to kill herself here for another eight hours.
“Yes, sir.” She peeled off the rubber gloves. Her dustbin and its filthy contents tumbled into the bag attached to her housekeeping cart. She looked up at the angry man standing in the bathroom doorway, short and squat, cigar stub clenched between his grimy, yellow teeth. “What did you need, Mr. Hodges?”
Spittle flew as he snarled back. “What I need is a world without chanter bitches like you screwing up my building all the time. Did you get upstairs to fix the central vac like I asked you to?”
“You told me to unclog this drain first.”
“Don’t tell me what I told you to do. You should have gotten this done an hour ago. The Barber firm upstairs needs their conference room cleaned. They have a big morning meeting and Mr. Barber wants everything in order before he goes. A man in his position shouldn’t have to worry.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.” Winnie throttled the urge to unleash her tongue, averting her eyes from his boiling glare. She wiped her hands on her already grimy gray apron and pushed her cart towards the staff elevator.
“Durham. What do you think you’re doing? You haven’t finished cleaning the bathroom. Are you completely useless?”
“No, sir. Sorry, sir. I’ll finish up here and then go right upstairs.”
“You chanter bitches are so stupid, it’s a wonder you manage to reproduce at all. I don’t see how you could figure out the old in-and-out if you can’t figure out how to clean a bathroom. You’re all idiots, sluts, and slackers … ” He slammed the door, ranting in a faded echo as he made his way down the hallway.
Winnie looked down at her hands, clenched tightly enough to the cart to turn her knuckles bright white. She thought of magical ways to wage war on this man. She wanted to make his clothing leech estrogen into his system, shrinking his genitals and turning his man-boobs into genuine breasts. Maybe then he’d empathize with the women he put down.
She considered how the spell would work. Her heart raced, the thrill narcotic as she wove the charm in her mind.
For a moment, she was entirely gone, out of her mind, teetering at the edge of nothing.
She almost lost control. It was almost the end.
Winnie almost let go.
But the spell didn’t leave her, and Hodges’s hormone levels remained unchanged.
“Stop.” Winnie’s voice quivered as she forced herself to surrender.
Her hands trembled as she collapsed in a heap and leaned against the wall. What was she doing? Dark magic was only for the Sable trade. But was that what Sable chanters felt when casting their spells?
Winnie already felt haunted by what she’d felt only moments before, like a person living in tundra feeling the kiss of a Mediterranean sun before being told it would be ice forever after all.
Standing, she walked to the sink, splashed water on her face, and stared into the mirror, searching her eyes for answers.
Winnie was stepping into something dangerous. Dark magic, just like Joey.
He’d dabbled for reasons she had never understood before now, and had been hooked in no time. He was clean now, thanks to Winnie, her mom, and their unwavering support.
Joey used to buy Sable boxes from a local dealer. The boxes let chanters cast spells directly on living organic matter. It amplified the euphoria. The boxes were filled with microbial cultures that the Sable junkies c
ould use to get high without casting their spells against humans or animals. But you can’t solve an addiction by redirecting its attention. From petty theft to gambling, Joey found himself in trouble more often than not, trying to scrap a way into his next high.
She’d tasted the divine, but she had to let it go. Even though now she felt empty.
Winnie looked at her reflection, wondering what she would look like strung out like Joey always used to.
“I’m no junky,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll never do that again. I don’t need the magic to control me or define who I am.”
Her tired face stared back. She sort of smoothed her rumpled clothes, then tried and failed to wrestle the wisps of hair escaping her ponytail.
Turning away from the mirror, Winnie took her mop out and started to wipe the mess from the floor around the drain. Hodges wouldn’t wait long before coming back to see if she’d cleaned the conference room.
One squeaky clean bathroom later, Winnie pushed her cart to the elevator and jabbed the button for Barber’s floor. Her stomach growled and she glanced at her watch. She was due for a break and wouldn’t feel so on edge if she could finally eat.
Winnie pushed her cart through the opening doors and bumped into something. A pained grunt echoed back into the elevator. Winnie swallowed.
Danny Barber’s eyes were on fire.
Then something like recognition lit him and melted his features. Softer, he said, “Winnie?”
“Oh, hello. I was, uh, just about to clean these offices.” She brushed at a stray strand of hair and noticed her grimy nails.
“I didn’t know you worked here, too.”
“Nothing wrong with the occasional odd job.”
Danny laughed. “Never said there was.” He glanced up at the door. “My father’s offices. He had a catered dinner tonight and wanted to introduce me to what he calls the ‘right people.’ I’d rather hang with any of you than the snooty old coots he wants me to shake hands with. By the way, was that one of your friends working with you the other night? Skinny kid with the dark circles under his eyes?”