by Michelle Fox
"Yes to all of that. "Mom stood and grabbed her purse. "This shifter is a bigger threat than we knew, but I'll let her explain." She moved to leave, and Vitor stepped to the side so she could go. I could only stare, utterly dumbstruck.
Just before the stairs, Mom stopped short and spun back around. Slipping her hand into her purse, she pulled out a square white envelope. "Oh. I almost forgot. This came for you today."
I took it. "What is it?"
"Your invitation to the Witch's Ball."
I groaned and tossed the envelope onto my desk. "I'm not going."
"But you are." She gave me a bright smile. "The Gudkind family has a son your age. Their line goes back centuries. Some of the earlier witches in the Americas. They understand the value of our lineage and are quite interested in a possible match."
"I'm. Not. Going." I spat the words out through gritted teeth. By match, she meant arranged marriage.
Technically, I had the say-so in who I married, but Mom had her own ideas about the technicalities of my autonomy as an adult. It was easy enough to work around her when she fussed over my clothes or habits. This wasn't going to be so simple. More than anything, she wanted me married and popping out witches. Specifically, witches with more power than me.
"Yes. You. Are." My mother spat right back. Her mouth pinched shut then, and her eyes glittered like sharp blades in light. Our gazes dueled for several long seconds. Finally, she gave an aggrieved sigh and headed down the stairs. "Musn't keep the High Priestess waiting. This is an urgent matter."
"The Witch's Ball?" Vitor asked.
"Yes. Your mother made you soup, mine connives to marry me off." I sat at my desk and cradled my head in one hand while I rooted in a drawer with the other for my charmed headache remedy. The throbbing had surged at the mention of the Witch's Ball. I found the one pill I had left, and chewed and swallowed it as fast as I could. Witch remedies worked great, but they tasted like rotten ass. "But no one wants me."
"Why not?"
"I'm a terrible witch." I sighed and picked up a takeout bag that had fallen out of the garbage. I stuffed it back into the can that sat under my desk and then spun in my chair, looking for anything else that needed to be dealt with before the High Priestess arrived.
"But what is a Witch's Ball?" Vitor sat in the wooden chair in front of my desk.
"A fancy party for all the most powerful witch families. People come from all over the world." I shoved the garbage can further under my desk, making it harder to see. Standing up, I went to the kitchenette where I made my charms and neatly restacked the pyramid of dirty dishes—there wasn't time to wash them.
My supplies were in good order, at least. Open shelves held rows of cobalt blue glasses with white labels. The counters were clean, but only because my last charm had resulted in a lot of smelly goo. I hadn't minded the goo, but the smell had been corpse flower with a side of pepper spray. The stench had inspired a serious deep clean.
It wasn't the High Priestess' kitchen with its gleaming marble countertops and solid oak cabinets—which, as she told everyone all the time, came from the same tree as her wand—but I wouldn't totally disgrace myself.
The last thing I did was rearrange the oriental screen I used to hide the bed I sometimes used when I was too tired to go down to my room. A soft whine as I did so reminded me Vitor and I weren't alone.
I stepped behind the screen and squatted down by the cage on the floor. "Hey Blart."
Blart's tail thumped like a bass drum. Blond fur flew, stirred by the wind he generated, and he attempted to lick me through the cage.
"I didn't forget you, sweetie. Just a little longer, okay?" I slipped my finger through the cage and surrendered to his tongue.
Blart stopped licking, gave me a dirty look and huffed.
"It hasn't been that long." I said it more for me than him. I hated locking him up, but he followed me if I didn't, and he wasn't smart enough not to get himself killed. Then I would be known as the witch who not only had shitty magic, but also managed to murder her familiar.
A pffft sounded. I cringed and backed up before the smell hit me.
That was the other reason I left him at home. He farted. A lot. And it didn't just smell, it was toxic.
"What is that stench?" Vitor sounded alarmed.
I backed away from Blart, and wiped my slobber slimed finger on my pants. "My familiar. He has...umm...digestive issues. I keep trying different diets, but nothing works."
"Is your familiar a dragon?"
I shook my head. "No. Blart's a dog."
"Blart?"
I shrugged. "It's what he answers too." I'd tried the more dignified Sentinel for a name, but he'd refused to respond to it.
"Well, I would not keep him in my office." Vitor sniffed.
"I kind of have to. He's my familiar." I left out the parts where, one, Blart was about as magic as road kill, and two, all the other witches got, like, metaphysical unicorns and shit, but me? I got a dog. A dumb as a box of rocks dog. Who farted. A shitty familiar for my shitty magic.
I loved him anyway, though. How could I not? He loved me with a devotion I'd yet to see from anyone else.
Vitor stood and walked over to peek behind the screen. "That is your familiar?"
I just shrugged and headed for my desk.
He gave me a look filled with pity. "I should have found you sooner."
"Found me? For what?"
Before he could answer, high heels tapped on the stairs like hammers pounding nails. My mother's voice trilled up into the attic, the pitch a high 'do not fuck this up.' "The High Priestess is here."
I stood and Vitor came to stand next to me.
My mother entered first, immediately stepping to the side to make way for the High Priestess. She swept into the room dressed in full priestess regalia, a white evening gown topped by a swirling cloak, also white. A tiara set with a rainbow of stones glittered in her hair. She paused at the doorway and looked at me.
"Thorne is gone." She packed a deep judgment into those three words, as if they portended doom for all of Witchdom. I hoped she was just being dramatic. I wasn't up for anymore doom than I already had.
I nodded and motioned to a chair. "I know. Please come in."
She took another step into the room, her gaze never leaving mine. "You must find him."
"I'm working on it. "
"Please, come sit, Priestess." My mother gestured to the wooden chair in front of my desk.
The High Priestess shook her head. "No. I will not stay long." Her gaze fixed on me, hard as the stones in her tiara. "Why haven't you found him?"
"He broke the tracking charm." I fished the charm in question out of my pocket and let it drop onto my desk.
Her eyes widened for a second before she schooled her face back into its natural haughtiness. "I gave you this job because I thought you could handle it. But perhaps your magic is too weak for even this lowly work."
I gritted my teeth. "You're welcome to assign someone else to bounty hunting." I hadn't wanted the stupid job in the first place.
"She's never lost anyone before," my mother said, her voice mild.
I gave her a look of surprise. The High Priestess was our boss. Standing up for me could be a step down for her.
The High Priestess pursed her lips. "That is true."
"Hey, I didn't lose Thorne. The charm broke."
"Your cast was probably weak." The High Priestess dismissed me with a wave.
"Or he's dead. Or he found someone to break the magic." I wasn't ready to let it go.
"Well, if he's dead, he'll be easy enough to find, won't he?" The High Priestess stared at me, her mouth a tight line.
"Oh, yes." My mother hurried to agree.
"But will it be so easy to reclaim what he stole?" She drummed her fingers across her bottom lip.
"What was it?" What had Thorne stolen that had put the High Priestess at my door and in my business?
Her gaze darted to Vitor, and she hesitated for
a second, as if she'd only just noticed him. She had been a little hyper focused on me. "And who is he?" She gestured to Vitor.
"Vitor Volikov." The vampire gave a sweeping bow.
"A foreign vampire. Why is he here?" Her gaze was hard enough to punch people.
"He's looking for Thorne, too."
"He has something of mine," Vitor said.
"He has something of mine as well." The High Priestess was not amused. "Something that belonged to the First Witch."
My eyes widened. "The First Witch. As in the very first witch to ever witch?"
She nodded, and my mind exploded a little bit. The First Witch had brought all magic into the world. She called the First Vampire from the grave, brought the first beast out of man and wrote the first spell book.
"I had no idea there was even anything around from her time."
"It's inside a case." She mimed a rectangle about the size of a shoe box. "Don't open it when you find it."
"Why not?"
"A witch of your level couldn't handle the power. The case is charmed to contain the magic. It's for your safety."
"Oh. Okay." Not gonna lie. I was awestruck. The First Witch was every supe's superhero.
"So you need to find Thorne and what he stole before someone else does."
"Yes. I get it." And I did want to find Thorne, more than ever. He had a piece of witch history that didn't belong to him.
"Good." The High Priestess gave a curt nod. "I expect you at the Temple tomorrow morning then."
"Tomorrow morning?" My throat tightened like an internal noose.
"You can't do it?" Her sharp voice cut the air.
"It's just...a new tracking charm will take some time and I don't know where he is." I was babbling. I'd never had a bounty this big. What if I didn't have what it took this one time that mattered most? I'd have to leave town. There would be no surviving the gossip. It might unseat my mom from the Witch Council, too. I cast a look of pre-apology her way.
"She can handle it." My mother gave a smile made of thin ice. "I'll make sure of it."
"No one else must know." The High Priestess wagged a finger at me. "It cannot leave this room." She looked at Vitor again, her brow furrowed.
I cocked my head. "Why not?"
"Because all of Witchdom would look for Thorne, too. There would be magic everywhere seeking him out. He's not the only one who would want to steal it, and in the wrong hands..." The High Priestess trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she continued to look at Vitor.
"This has to stay quiet. Yes, of course. We understand, don't we, dear?" Mom shot me a look. The one that said she'd flay me alive it I didn't say the right things.
I nodded. "Yeah. I can see that. Okay. I'll set up the tracking spell now and I'll find Thorne."
"And you..." The High Priestess beckoned Vitor with a crooked finger. "You'll come with me."
"Why would I do that?" Vitor didn't move.
She gave him a hard look. "Because vampires would like nothing more than to claim the First Witch's power. I won't have you running off and telling your masters."
Vitor still didn't move. Maybe he didn't like the High Priestess anymore than I did. "I have no master. And I have my own interest in finding Thorne."
She huffed."The witches have zero interest in what you want, and we know better than to listen to a vampire's lies."
"He's not going to say anything. Right, Vitor?" I tried to break the sudden tension the room. "Vampires can't use the magic."
"I'm not taking any risks." She moved then, a blur of white and silver hand cuffs appeared out of nowhere. She slapped them on Vitor before my brain could register what had happened. Even Vitor hadn't seen her coming because all he had time to do was flinch.
The vampire went pale as the silver sapped his strength, but he didn't go quietly. "I have done nothing wrong."
"Yet." The High Priestess gave an unimpressed huff.
Vitor cast a pleading glance at my mother, who looked away. When his gaze hit me, I just shrugged. I had no pull with the Witch Council. He had to know that from everything he'd just heard.
But his gaze didn't let up, so finally, shuffling my feet, I caved. "All right. I'll come get you once I find Thorne."
On one hand, I didn't owe him a damn thing. On the other, he was handcuffed because of me. No vampire willingly met the High Priestess unless it was a formal diplomatic effort.
Her hatred of the undead was well known. Rumor said she'd been jilted by the area's Master vampire. I'd heard she'd hexed his fangs out of his mouth and kept them in a vault in her house.
"Promise me. On your blood."
My mother gasped. "Sylvie don't."
"It's fine, mom." I held up my hand. "I promise. On my blood. To pick you up and give you a ride to any destination of reasonable distance when this is all over. But," I put up a finger, "you have to cooperate and not cause problems for the Witch Council or the deal's off."
He frowned. "That is a terrible deal."
"It's all I can offer. What were you looking for?"
"A rescue operation. Surely you know where she is taking me. Sneak in and break me out."
The High Priestess looked like she was ready to stake him on the spot and she shot me a warning don't-forget-where-your-loyalties-lie look.
"Sorry. I'm fresh out of rescues." I was so not getting between him and the High Priestess. If she knew he'd fed on me.... I didn't even want to think about it.
Vitor looked from me to the High Priestess. "Fine. I accept your meager offer of transportation."
"Is that a dig on my hearse?" I glared at him, just daring him to admit it. "I'll have you know that hearse took a hit from a dragon and still runs. Can't say the same would happen to you, even if you are immortal."
"Focus." The High Priestess snapped her fingers at me. "Thorne is what matters here. Just find him. Whatever it takes." The High Priestess shook Vitor. "And you should know better than to think there will be any escape from my dungeons."
No lie. The High Priestess had dungeons, an actual Dungeons-and-Dragons underground warren. In fifth grade, my class took a field trip to the temple complex and walked through the dungeons. We'd played 'lock 'em up and torture 'em' for weeks after at recess. One kid had even hexed prisoners with an unitchable itch to get a 'confession.'
Side note: Sometimes I could see why humans were squirrelly about supes. We were a little extra.
The High Priestess turned on her heel and marched down the stairs, dragging Vitor after her.
"And once you find Thorne, we can start shopping for your dress for the Witch's Ball." My mother gave me a narrow-eyed look, the kind mothers all over the world fix on their kids when they want them to do something. She followed that with a tight 'everything's fine' smile and hurried after the High Priestess.
For a full minute after they left, I pinched the bridge of my nose and just breathed, taking it all in. That had been an interesting meeting, to say the least. It had all happened so fast, too. My mind was spinning so fast my headache threatened to come back.
On the minus side, Vitor might've known something about Thorne's whereabouts. On the plus side, I wasn't too worried. A tracker charm would fill in for anything he knew. And it wouldn't lie, either. Or try to push the advantage to its agenda. Or suck my blood and drop me into memories that weren't mine.
I could deal.
But...
What had he meant by 'I should have found you sooner?' Like he knew me? Plus, the weird flashback when he fed on me. Vampires were freaky. Everyone knew that. They lived so long they didn't really care about taboos. I didn't need a bloodsucker distracting me with his immortal woo-woo.
Shaking my head, I went into my kitchenette and set a pot of water to boil, adding a handful of sea salt blessed under a full moon. Then, I let Blart out of his cage.
He jumped up and set his paws on my shoulders, lathering my face with kisses until I giggled. My familiar was big for a dog. So not only did I not get a beautiful spiritual un
icorn to aid my magic, I got a farting dog the size of a small pony.
My mom's familiar, by the way, was an astral phoenix strong enough to project himself into the body of a black cat, a rare and powerful manifestation. She'd had high hopes for me until Blart showed up on my eighteenth birthday. He'd been a cute puppy, but had the magical 'oomph' of dandruff...on an ant.
"Blart, stop!" I tried to talk without swallowing his tongue. He was sneaky with the French kisses. The smell of my toothpaste or something drew him in. Once I'd had a bad cold that blocked off my nose and had woken up mid snore to find him delicately licking my teeth.
Of course, the love fest was all followed by a horrid fart. When the smell hit my nose, I clipped on his collar and leash and led him outside for a potty break.
For all that mom's house was large, it was on the smallest lot on the block. There was a driveway, but no room for a garage and the yard consisted of a tiny patch of grass no bigger than a picnic blanket. My mom compensated with flowers everywhere along the side of the house, and when she ran out of room to plant, she stabbed a stake in the ground and slapped on a hanging basket of petunias. This summer she'd set up a line of them down the driveway.
Blart liked petunias.
No. Not liked, loved.
And the driveway was the only way to get to the sidewalk that would take us to the dog park down the street.
"No, Blart." I tugged on his leash as he lunged for the purple petunias.
He woofed and gave me a big, tongue lolling smile before lunging again.
I dragged him to the middle of the driveway and kept the leash short. When he ate too many petunias, my mom made me buy new hanging baskets. He'd cost me two hundred dollars so far this year.
Farking petunias.
We spent a few minutes at the dog park. Blart stretched his legs, peed on everything he could find and sniffed everyone's butts, including the lady with the miniature poodle. She'd bent over to pick up her dog's poop and Blart nosed up her butt like he was looking for gold. That had thrown her off balance and hand first into the poop.
"Sorry." I motioned for Blart to come. He bounded over, tail wagging and eyes sparkling, completely unaware he'd done anything wrong.