by Elle Adams
“You!” said Mr Falconer, slamming open the door. “What are you doing?”
I blinked innocently. “Walking home. I just stopped to look, since I’m getting my own wand this weekend.”
He moved closer to me. A tall thin man with stringy grey hair and a face that looked like he’d never smiled in his life, he had the manner of a dragon defending its hoard when he moved in front of the wand display, as though expecting me to try to steal one. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Behind him, a mouse streaked out of the slightly open door. I jumped sideways, and he cursed, lunging forwards. Picking up the mouse by the tail, he carried it back into the shop.
I followed, my curiosity officially piqued, as he dropped the mouse into a cage on the front desk. Several other rodents crouched inside.
“What are you doing in here?” he snapped at me.
“You picked up a small woodland creature,” I pointed out. “You can’t blame me for being a little curious.”
“Curiosity killed the—” He broke off with a glance at the mice, which squeaked frantically, pawing at the cage bars. It was plain to see that they were pretty distressed.
“Why are you keeping so many mice in here?” He hadn’t struck me as the type to have pets. “I think you’d get along with my cat.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Get. Out.”
Message received. Making a mental note to ask Alissa who was the best person to report animal cruelty to, I walked out of the wand-maker’s shop.
The door slammed behind me.
2
“He did what?” asked Alissa. “He has mice in his shop? Are you joking?”
Frantic squeaking followed from the top drawer in my room. Our attempt to evacuate my unwanted visitors was not going well.
“Apparently,” I said. “Is there an epidemic? I’ve had enough of rodents in my underwear drawer. At this rate I’ll come back from my spell lesson to find a whole rodent metropolis. Can’t they live somewhere other than in our flat?”
“Roald would kill them if they moved to another part of the house, like a normal feline,” she said.
“Nothing about Sky is normal.” I gave the cat an accusing look, where he sat licking a paw on my bed. “They’re just going to have to stay here while I’m at my magic lesson. I’m already running late.”
I’d started taking night classes on magical history and theory, while I waited to be approved for my practical assessments. I hoped I’d retained enough information to pass next week’s theory exam. I’d never been particularly studious, and it’d been a while since I’d graduated from university. My history degree had not done much to prepare me for being a witch.
“Good luck!” Alissa waved me off, and I grabbed my shoulder bag before leaving for the witches’ meeting place.
The witches’ headquarters was a large brick building that belonged to Madame Grey, and served as a meeting place, adult education centre and convention hall all rolled into one. Rita, my tutor, held my lessons there—for now, one-to-one, at least until I caught up to at least some of the other witches and wizards. She was eccentric, to say the least, and her teaching methods ranged from interesting lectures to deciding I needed to stand outside in a storm to see if I turned out to be a weather-witch. Every witch had one primary talent. I’d been tested for every type of magic possible, and it looked like the only major gift I was going to have was my ability to sense paranormal types and tell if someone was lying. Both were very useful skills, so I wasn’t complaining.
Several other witches and wizards milled around in the entrance hall. While Rita had volunteered herself as my mentor, there were other classes here at the same time, mostly for wizards and witches who’d missed out on part of their education for some reason or other. Or those who were over-enthusiastic learners looking to earn some extra credits towards their degree courses. First in line was Helen Banks, a blond woman who beamed when she spotted me. “Hey, Blair!”
“Hey,” I said, slightly less enthusiastically. A twenty-something schoolteacher at the local academy, she’d taken it upon herself to get me more involved in the community, by any means necessary. Every time I ran into her, I spent twenty minutes trying to extricate myself from things she’d volunteered me for.
“You’re here for your lesson, right?” She gave me another sunny smile.
“Yep. I’m looking for—”
“You have to speak to me afterwards!” she said. “I heard you’re getting your own wand, and we’re looking for volunteers at the academy dance show—”
“Er, that’s great, but I’m busy that day.” I spotted Rita and made my way over to her with relief. Thankfully, nobody else occupied the classroom she’d picked out for our lessons. To say my attempts to learn basic potion-making weren’t going spectacularly was an understatement. Despite my best efforts, the table in the corner, along with the floor underneath and the walls behind it, were splattered with the remnants of accidental explosions.
“Helen got you again?” Rita asked.
“She tried,” I admitted. “What’s she here for this time?”
“Advanced potion making. She told me to give you these.” She indicated a mile-high stack of books on the desk.
“Advanced? I’ve barely read the basics.”
“She likes to mentor the newbies. Humour her. Anyway, have you been practising wand movements?”
“Yes.” I looked like a complete tit waving my hand around without any magical effects to back it up, but considering how easy it was to accidentally make the wrong movement and cast another spell entirely, I needed all the practise I could get. Even the most basic spells involved remembering a string of complicated patterns, which I’d practised until my wrist ached. The more complex spells tended to involve props, ingredients, rituals—all the extra parts of being a witch—not to mention working alongside someone else. The other witches didn’t all know I was half fairy and most didn’t seem to care about that type of thing, but I couldn’t help feeling a little concerned for my future classmates. Assuming I passed my first exam.
“So,” she said. “Your own wand. Are you excited?”
“Yes,” I said. “Absolutely.”
“It’ll come with the safety settings on to begin with,” she said. “Standard procedure.”
“For five-year-olds.” That was the age most witches and wizards began training. I was a little behind to say the least, but it was okay. I’d catch up, and there was no reason I wouldn’t be turning people into frogs with the best of them by the end of the year. “That doesn’t sound like something Mr Falconer would come up with.”
“No, the schools’ health and safety department did. So many accidents. People being turned into animals… even the occasional flying car.”
“You’ve read Harry Potter.” Rita leapt a dozen points in my esteem. She was a little hands-on with her lessons sometimes, but she was far less scary than Madame Grey.
“Of course I have,” she said. “It’s not entirely inaccurate on some things, as far as the witch academy goes, but the coven dropped the mandatory pointed hats because they have a tendency to get stuck in doorways.”
I grinned. “I bet they do.”
“I miss the capes, though,” she admitted. “It was easier to tell a witch’s coven by sight, though it naturally made things harder for outsiders.” A pause. “Not that I’m implying you’re an outsider.”
“I am—or I was. But I don’t mind, honestly.”
“Some of the younger witches really want to fit in.”
“I gave up on that a while ago,” I said. But while I’d never thought of myself as magical, I fit in here like I’d never fit anywhere else.
“You’ll feel more at home when you have a wand,” she said. “If you take to it immediately, I’ll put you on an accelerated programme so you’ll catch up to the junior witches in no time.”
Meaning: if I spent the next year working my tail off, I might have the skill of an eleven-year-old. No complaints here.
“You’ve done so much for me,” I said. “I couldn’t ask for anything else.”
“You’ve missed out on a lot,” she said. “But you’re coping well.”
They were all so nice to me. Even Madame Grey, whose brand of niceness was more of the stern schoolteacher type, but I wouldn’t expect any less from the leader of the coven who ruled the whole town. And she was Alissa’s grandmother, which was a plus.
“When’s my exam, then?” I asked.
“I can pencil you in to take the theory test on Friday evening?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Then you’ll be able to apply for a wand that very weekend. Mr Falconer will be informed.”
“Mr Falconer seemed to think I can help him find a new assistant,” I said. “He called my workplace and talked me into helping him.”
She frowned. “And has he said why he keeps losing his assistants?”
“No. I thought it was a given: they all hate him.”
“There’s something not quite right about that man,” she muttered.
“Don’t you buy your wands from him? Aren’t they the best in town?”
Rita’s own wand flipped into her hand. Like her arms, it was decorated with a series of bright-coloured bands. “The only ones in town.”
“I heard. So you think I can do it?”
She smiled. “Personally? I think you absolutely can. Madame Grey does, too. Anyway, let’s run through the exercises again.”
I rose to my feet, brimming with a newfound confidence at their faith in me. No witch could borrow another’s wand and use it without it backfiring, so I’d been reduced to dancing around waving a stick in the air and generally feeling like a complete prat when I did the exercises.
“You’re slightly off-centre,” she commented, observing my right hand’s movements. “Left—not that far, otherwise you’ll cast a shrinking spell.”
“It seems a bit risky,” I commented. “What if you get the angle slightly wrong and end up casting the wrong spell? Surely that happens a lot.”
“The safety settings should prevent the worst mishaps, but yes, it happens.”
I made a mental note to learn as many counter-spells as possible beforehand. I was as uncoordinated as a basket of baby kittens learning to walk on a good day. I’d once gone to a ballet lesson and managed to kick my neighbour in the eye, so I’d sworn off any similar hobbies, but I wanted a wand badly enough to risk the indignity.
“Focus,” she said, as I faltered on the movement of a levitation spell.
More like flail. Wand-waving was a serious upper-arm workout. I demonstrated locking and unlocking spells, levitation and conjuring. There were whole volumes of spells I wouldn’t get to for years, but the curriculum had been designed to prioritise the spells young witches and wizards were likely to need on a daily basis.
“Good,” she said, clapping her hands in a jangling noise. “I think that’s as much as I can teach you. Unless you’d like to join the Young Advanced Witches Club?”
“How old is its average member?”
“Eight.”
“I think I’ll give it a miss. It’s bad enough that Helen keeps trying to get me to help out at the academy’s dance festival. If I wanted to make a fool of myself in front of a bunch of schoolchildren, I’d have signed up to join in regular witch classes before I learnt the basics.”
“Some of the witches do think you’d do better in a classroom environment,” she said. “We’ll re-evaluate once you have your own wand. Now, show me that levitation spell again.”
The following morning brought an unwelcome surprise: the candidate who’d signed up to be interviewed by Mr Falconer had called my office last night, leaving a message to say that he was no longer interested in the position.
“Great,” I said. “Back to square one.”
“He said no?” asked Bethan.
“Last night, after hours. Changed his mind pretty quickly,” I said.
“Everyone knows what Mr Falconer’s like. I’m surprised he got that far.”
I frowned. “Yeah, but why back out now? He wanted the job. I guess he didn’t know I’d take the fall if he turned it down, but come on.”
“Falconer?” Lizzie asked, pausing beside my desk on her way to the printer. “The last candidate did that, too. But I was sure he’d found a good one this time.”
“Yeah, weren’t you dealing with him a few weeks ago?” I asked.
She nodded. “I found him someone. I guess he didn’t like the working environment. Not the first time.”
“No, I gathered. How many times has he hired this company in the last year?”
“I lost count at twenty.” She glanced down at the candidate list. “Three of those are already no-shows.”
“Twenty?” I echoed. “And you found him someone every time?”
“And every time, the candidate left.”
“Did they all leave town, or the country?” I asked.
Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know. We have a lot of clients.”
“Do many of them go through twenty assistants in a year?” I asked.
“No,” said Bethan, “but most employers have some redeeming qualities. It is weird, though, but what choice do we have? He pays us well. And he’s the only wand-maker in town.”
I blinked. “Guys. I realise this is a magical town and not exactly like anything I’m used to, but I’d start to get a little concerned if someone got through twenty assistants in a year and they all vanished off the face of the earth.”
Lizzie tapped her fingers on the desk. “You’re right. Bethan…?”
Bethan’s brows shot up.
“I wouldn’t ask it of you,” I said, “but you can do it in two minutes while I’m on the phone and still end up with four times as much work done as me.”
Bethan couldn’t deny Lizzie had a point, and neither could I. I would have envied her epic multitasking skills if I was the competitive sort, but I wasn’t. It was impossible to compete with someone who had magical advantages.
“Oh, all right,” said Bethan. “I’ll look into the other candidates. But you do need to find him someone today, Blair. If not, he’ll come and gripe at Veronica, which will cause her to gripe at us, and I already have to deal with finding a professional unicorn-handler. Let me tell you, that’s almost as bad as the wand-maker.”
“Unicorn-handler?” I said. “Want to swap?”
“Nice try, but nope.” She grinned. “I will get those candidate details sorted for you, no problem.”
She began to tap on her computer keyboard, while Lizzie shot me a sympathetic look and returned to her own desk. Leaving me with the wand-maker’s increasingly bizarre situation.
The candidates weren't just declining because the old man was as appealing an employer as Professor Snape. Something else was going on.
While Bethan got the details, I could do worse than call up the candidate and find out why he’d made his abrupt decision.
He picked up after a few moments.
“Hello?” I said. “This is Dritch & Co. We found you a job yesterday. Why did you decline? You seemed keen on the job yesterday.”
He hesitated. “I called the last assistant and couldn’t get through. I heard he left the country.”
“That’s what I heard, too. Why?”
“Then I called the one before. He disappeared, too.”
“That’s… unfortunate.”
He exhaled. “There’s something weird going on. They all—all—mysteriously disappeared, won’t answer their phones, and have all but disappeared from existence. Everyone who’s taken on that job in the last year.”
I frowned. “That’s just—weird. Why would he be so desperate to hire someone only to get rid of them? Unless he’s planning human sacrifices, or…” I should probably not be saying this to the candidate who until yesterday, might have actually wanted the job. “Well, my co-workers and I are looking into the situation, but he needs to find someone today…”
“Not me,” he said firmly. “This is too weird. I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die.” But how could I be sure? If asked to pick out which of the residents of Fairy Falls I’d met so far might be a potential murderer, Mr Falconer would rank top of the list, but being an antisocial grump wasn’t a crime.
The guy clearly wasn’t going to change his mind, so I ended the call and turned back to my desk. What now? Mr Falconer wouldn’t take no for an answer. But what was he doing to his assistants? Surely not murdering them. After all, he knew I’d caught one killer.
Fishy. Definitely fishy.
I took an extra dose of motivational coffee before I called the man himself.
“What do you mean, the candidate declined?” he yelled into the phone.
“Everyone declined,” I said brightly. “Funny, that.”
“I don't find anything funny about it.”
I doubted he'd ever found anything funny in his life.
“He seems to think something odd keeps happening to your candidates,” I said to him. “He’s not willing to take the risk.”
“What did you tell him?”
I had the presence of mind to yank the phone away so his yelling didn’t burst my eardrum. Both Bethan and Lizzie winced in sympathy.
“I didn’t tell him a thing. I’m just passing on the message. He said every one of your previous assistants has vanished without trace. Looking at the information available, that appears to be true.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fool,” he snapped.
“Look, Mr Falconer. It’s obvious to me that there’s something odd going on. Legal or not, I can’t say for sure. But people are talking. You can’t hide this forever, and frankly, I’m surprised you thought you could keep it a secret from me, considering you’ve hired Dritch & Co to help you twenty times in a year. Surely you guessed someone would notice.”
“Your colleagues aren’t as impertinent as you are.”