The Retail Witches: An Urban Fantasy Witch Novel (Retail Witches Series Book 1)

by Les Goodrich

  They sipped the coffee. Jordan had already added cream and a small amount of sugar just for Shay and the look on Shay’s face was near ecstasy. “Damn,” she said.

  “You like that don’t you.”

  “You have no idea,” Shay whispered and drank more. “I brought you a surprise too.” She reached into the cold fountain water and retrieved the treasure and handed it to Jordan who shook it dry and turned it in her hands. It was a gracefully curved comb with sturdy rounded teeth expertly carved from an iridescent pink shell.

  “Wow Shay. This is beautiful.” Jordan turned the comb in her hands and felt the smooth lines, admired the precision of the teeth, and she held it to the moonlight where it glowed.

  “Try it,” Shay said.

  “Huh?” asked Jordan as if slightly recalled from a little trance.

  “Try it. The comb.”

  Jordan dropped her head to let her long hair fall forward then she flung it back and smoothed it with her left hand ahead of the comb in her right and as she moved the shell through her hair it glided like silk and she felt overwhelmed with pleasure and a warm rush of adrenaline as if she had just had the best kiss of her life. Shay muffled a giggle with her hand over her mouth.

  “Really?” Jordan said.

  “Yeah. It’s magick. My friend makes them.”

  Jordan combed her hair again slowly then said, “Whew,” and shook her head then carefully put the comb into her backpack side pocket. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Shay said and the two drank more coffee against the cool wee morning hour.

  “Down to business,” Jordan said. “I read what I could find about Aradia and mermaids but there isn’t much. There was a village of fishermen who worshiped Aradia on the Italian coast but that’s nothing unusual. There’s a ton of Italian sailing explorers who recorded mermaid tales but most of those guys were Christians. Leif Erikson was a diehard pagan and an explorer, but now we’re talking Norse gods and goddesses and he may have known a few mermaids in his day, but by then I was way off track, so I got nothing.”

  “Well I found out a few things,” Shay said. “Some good. Some bad. There are no written details about the spell. What’s in the cave witch books is just some story about Aradia casting the spell. She cast the spell and created a potion. The potion she poured into the waters of a tidal pool. A certain night. A certain moon. All that. When three young maidens of the village swam in the pool they were transformed into mermaids. She didn’t trick them; they knew all about it. The girls swam the seas for weeks. They met other mermaids! One became their friend and returned with them to the tidal pool at the next moon’s tide. When she swam through those waters and dried on the shore she became human. Legs I mean. And the three maidens dried back all leggy too. So the spell doesn’t actually create mermaids or witches. It just allows for a transformation of either into the other.

  “This is great news Jordan. Because it resolves the whole who-made-whom argument. Anyway. When the pirates found the cave they found many things. Treasures the cave witch had found. Books. Magickal things. And the best part. There was a painting. A painting of Aradia casting the spell. The painting shows her altar.”

  With that Jordan jumped to her feet and spilled coffee on her purple hoodie.

  “Are you sure?” she asked excited and she brushed coffee drops from her chest.

  “Yeah. The pirates found the painting. They thought it could be valuable. They care nothing for the spell. Or at least they didn’t at first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s the bad part. All pirates are sneaky and some are worse than others but some are a downright pain in the fins. Despicable. Believe me we give those bastards a hard time. Sing them into the rocks, you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The rumor is that some of those hardcore mudfish pirates are the ones who have the painting. Or they saw it. They told the Fomorians about it and the Fomorians flipped. I guess Fomroians think the witch spell is more than a weekend land pass. They say each time you go from fins to legs or legs to fins it doubles your life. Well not double. More like pause. It resets your youth somehow so you look the same but you get to live however many years you have lived already again, without aging. Once you catch up, you age from there again. So if you’re twenty, and you do the spell-walk, when you come back you don’t age for twenty years.”

  “Holy crap. What the hell’s a Fomorian?”

  “The Fomorians were driven from Ireland into the sea by Partholon with Partholon’s first invasion of that land. They were called the nightmare people, in the time of gods and goddesses. They were driven into the sea again and again. They finally gave up and stayed and grew into finned creatures but it made them bitter. And they were none too nice to begin with. Hence being driven into the sea multiple times and being called the nightmare people. They’re humanoid-aquatic, like merfolk, but they’re dark and dangerous. Black and blotched with the green of their driven homeland. The upright tail of a shark unlike the flowing dolphin tale of a mermaid. Their eyes are forever bloodshot from the saltwater sting for the ocean is not their rightful home. They hunt fish with crude bone spears and merfolk stay well clear of them. We can swim circles around most of them and out run all of them, but who has time. Sometimes Fomorians will tag along behind the great sharks like remora, and the sharks loathe them. Their bad vibes. But it’s often from the sharks that we hear news of Fomorians, such as this bit about the pirates having the painting. Or finding the painting.”

  “And them knowing is the bad news?” asked Jordan.

  “Not all of it. The Formorians think that with the spell they can grow legs again and retake Ireland. The pirates just care about the mortality part, but they’d need a witch to pull the spell off. Maybe they have one, or know one. I don’t know. But the flipping Fomorians are plotting to steal the painting from the pirates with the help of witches they know. Bad witches.”

  “Shadowclan,” Jordan said.

  “Yes Shadowclan,” Shay confirmed. “They’re wicked?”

  “Mostly,” Jordan said and the two talked for some time until Shay said the tide would be falling soon and she had to go. They said goodbye and hugged and Jordan turned to stand but Shay grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close again and kissed her and they kissed deeply but in a playful way and they laughed and kissed again.

  “I have to go to my friend’s wedding in the Bahamas next weekend,” Shay said. “I wish you could come with me. It’s going to be so beautiful.”

  “I wish I could too,” Jordan said and stood.

  “I’ll be back in two weeks. Meet me at the long dock on the twenty-eighth day of the moon at sunrise. The moon will be the slightest waning crescent the night before.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said and Shay said, “Love you,” and Jordan was astounded at how fast Shay moved over the pavers and into the drain. Shay smiled, slid the drain grate closed over her head and was gone. Jordan looked around at the courtyard and it all seemed a shade more dim and colder with Shay gone.

  Jordan rode home and lit a fire in her fireplace and she curled up on the couch again with her blanket. She set her phone alarm to give herself an hour before the store meeting Carol had scheduled for later that morning. She read until she was falling asleep then she turned the table lamp off and was out.

  ***

  Carol walked through the Sunday sunrise streets to open an hour earlier with Tanner and both Jordan and Brit arrived within seconds of each other and they closed the door and locked it behind them. Carol pulled the front drapes closed.

  “Thank you guys for coming in early,” she said and added, “This store meeting is important.”

  The girls cleared and sat on the front table and Tanner sat on a stool that was usually used as a small table near the register and Carol stood on the customer side of the glass counter and opened a notebook.

  “Everyone awake?” Carol asked and Jordan yawned. “Close enough,” she said and flipped to a page she had mark
ed with a paperclip. She spoke.

  “First things first. The store protection spells and charms seem to be working, so good job everyone. And apparently Jordan got the Lutin out of here so good job Jordan.”

  “Thank you,” Jordan said. “It was a team effort with Brit,” she added and Brit nodded. Carol continued.

  “We had a good week last week with fourteen percent comp growth over last year, so great job everyone. I think we can do better if we reach out to the local witches sooner before the full moon next month, instead of relying on them to remember and shop early, so Tanner, I’d like you to come up with a marketing plan to make that happen.”

  “On it,” Tanner said and made a note on his iPad.

  “Now. I’ve learned a bit about what might be going on with our friends at The Poison Apple. Has anyone had any run-ins with anyone from that store since we all spoke last?”

  After a brief chorus of, “No,” Carol went on.

  “They’re definitely working on something bigger. The hexes were to distract us but it seems to have backfired on them. All it did was call attention, so now we know they’re up to something.”

  “Tribe,” said Jordan and Brit nodded.

  “Yes. Well. I think that when their credit card hex was shut down so fast it threw them off. And I also know that not only did your mirror spell work, Jordan, it actually caused their credit card machine to glitch out, until they recalled the spell. Took it back. Whatever they did.”

  “Cool,” Jordan said and Brit gave her a high-five.

  “Yeah but if anything that’ll only make them sneakier next time. We’ve got to be careful. They know we figured out they jinxed the card reader, but I doubt they realize we know they’re up to more than that. My sources tell me they’re searching for something valuable. Something rare. Whatever it is, it’s powerful. The hex was to distract us while they work to get it.”

  Jordan stirred. “How do you get your information?”

  “I just get it,” Carol said and Jordan straightened.

  “You send the cat! Jasmine. Undercover. Like some witch-cat-telepathy thing. You can see through the cat’s eyes, right? Hear what it hears.” Jordan beamed.

  “Jordan, that would be ridiculous,” Carol looked up from her notes. “That cat wouldn’t move if you were about to step on her. Her biggest adventure is walking to sleep on the bench at the back of the yard.”

  “Then how?” Jordan persisted.

  “If you must know, I have a ghostfriend. He spies for me.”

  “A ghostfriend,” Jordan rocked her shoulders. “Reeeow. Is he cute?”

  “It’s not like that. He’s a ghost who’s also my friend.”

  “How do you know him?” Jordan asked.

  “Yeah, how do you know him?” Brit added and the three kids leaned in and Carol blushed slightly and pulled off her glasses.

  “I play jazz guitar records for him on the library porch and we have tea and cookies. He likes Earl Grey with honey and milk, and those little cookies with jelly centers.”

  “The round ones,” Jordan said. “Those are good. And he eats them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And they’re gone after he does?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you can touch him?”

  “Fully.”

  “Then how do you know he’s a ghost?”

  “I believe he’s a ghost because he says he is. You just have to know him. Oh, and he appears and disappears. Does that count?” Carol said and Jordan raised her eyebrows.

  “It counts for something. It’s wicked cool, I’ll give him that. So is he cute?”

  “This isn’t what we’re here to discuss.”

  “I know, but what does he look like?”

  “He looks like a Victorian scientist and adventurer because that’s what he is. The way he dresses and behaves makes men today look like—well, I guess there’s a wide range of men today too—but he’d be among the best of them. Can we move on now?” Carol finished and flipped through her notes.

  “But he’s a ghost?” asked Jordan.

  “Yes.”

  “But he can eat cookies and drink tea?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said and leaned back with her hands on the table behind her. “So what else did your ghostfriend whom you obviously have a crush on find out?”

  “Whatever they’re after is a big deal. It’s some kind of old magickal artifact and I couldn’t care less, except it has something to do with immortality. Buying your youth back. I’m not sure.”

  “Holy shit!” Jordan jumped and everyone inched back from her. “I know what it is!” and she had to stand and move around as she talked. “It’s a painting.”

  “A painting,” Brit said, and Jordan briefly looked to her and then the others and went on.

  “Oh man. Where do I start. Okay. On Thursday I went paddle boarding with Dan.”

  “You guys are really still friends?” asked Brit.

  “Yeah I know. Proof that miracles happen. Anyway, we were out at the mouth of the inlet and Dan paddled out to catch the reef break, and,”

  “Wasn’t it cold?” Brit stuck in.

  “Yes it was cold in the morning but it warmed up.”

  “Would you just let her tell the story Brit,” Carol mediated and Brit raised her hands and tilted her head back with her eyes up as if to yield and Jordan continued. Tanner laughed silently.

  “So I’m lounging back and getting some Sun and my friend Shay swam up.”

  “Shay the mermaid?” Carol asked.

  “Now you’re doing it!” said Brit and Carol shot her a look.

  “Yes Shay the mermaid.”

  “She’s hot,” Tanner said and Jordan looked up as she paced.

  “You know Shay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. She brings me lobster sometimes. Said she could see me on the boat. Something about an aura.”

  “Really?” Jordan asked surprised then added, “We have to talk sometime.”

  “Can we just get on with this?” Carol begged.

  “Yeah, yeah. You guys know about the mermaid spell, right?”

  Brit and Carol said, “Yes,” and Tanner said, “No.” So Jordan gave a quick explanation for him.

  “There’s an ancient lost spell that can turn witches into mermaids and mermaids into witches but it’s the legs part that interests mermaids more than the witch part. Mermaids and witches have been searching for it for ages and it’s basically the topic of conversation anytime most mermaids and witches meet up. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Tanner said and Jordan resumed.

  “So a seriously long time ago an Italian sailing ship reef-sunk way down south, like the Windward Islands or down there somewhere. A witch was on the ship and mermaids rescued her. A strega. After that she lived in a cave on some deserted island. I guess pirates recently found the cave and in the cave was a book that tells all about the mermaid spell. The book says Aradia was the witch who cast the spell and it tells the story of her doing it but it doesn’t have the actual spell. But I met Shay at the mermaid fountain last night and she says there’s a painting of Aradia doing the spell. It shows her altar. I’m positive this painting is what The Poison Apple witches are after.”

  “Where’s the painting?” Carol asked.

  “The pirates have it. They took it from the cave. Or maybe they left it in the cave but they know where it is.”

  “And they have the book too?”

  “I think so.”

  “And what makes you think that Gwen or anyone at The Poison Apple knows about this?”

  “The Fomorian,” Jordan said.

  “The Fomorian?” Tanner asked, “The actual Fomorian?”

  “Yeah,” Jordan said.

  “What the heck’s a Fomorian?” asked Brit and Tanner began to answer.

  “They occupied the British Isles and mainly Ireland until—,”

  “The short version please,” Carol said interrupting Tanner, and Jordan took over agai
n.

  “They were driven into the sea a million years ago by some badass Irish warriors who were sick of their shit. Now they’re like Shadowclan witches with gills. Or maybe not gills. Fins. Whatever. They’re a straight pain in the ass. And I guess just like cool mermaids find cool witches, Fomorians find Shadowclan.”

  Carol had been jotting notes furiously and she spoke.

  “But the good doctor said they were talking about some age-halting spell, not some little mermaid thing.”

  “Okay,” Jordan explained, “This is how it works. The spell is a potion. You pour it into a tidal pool. Then if you swim through it, you become a mermaid until you swim back out onto land through the same pool. Once you dry off your legs come back, but there’s a bonus. Whatever age you are when you do this pauses. You get to live for however many years you’ve lived already, but you don’t age in that time. Once you catch up you start to age again.”

  “This is bad,” Carol said.

  “Sounds pretty good to me,” Brit said and Tanner nodded.

  “It’s bad if Shadowclan get their hands on it. Here’s the thing with dark magick: the only two things keeping it in check are karma and mortality. If they can manipulate the spell to get more life, or to get out of some fatal backlash, then there’s nothing stopping them from taking over and there isn’t much stopping them now.”

  “That Gwen is so scary,” Brit said. “Can’t anyone run her out of town somehow?” Carol offered her opinion in the most sincere tone.

  “Maybe a full Light Tribe coven could. Who knows. Gwen was once harassed by a local preacher. He tried to close her shop down with protests and hysterical ravings at city council meetings. Then one day he simply vanished. No one ever found out what happened to him.”

  “And his family or his wife?” Brit asked. “Did they not blame Gwen? Investigate?”

  “Quite the opposite,” Carol said. “His wife went on to become one of The Poison Apple’s most loyal customers.

  “Now look. Light Tribe has staved off Shadowclan for centuries. The fact is, no matter what they are able to get away with, dark magick is such a disruption of the natural balance, that it falls really hard. It can be super effective, but it can also be easily pushed over. The other thing is the backlash of it. Use dark magick and it comes back on you in ways that really suck. So it’s self-regulating. The hangover isn’t worth the fun, so few people do it. But here’s the catch: anyone who can dodge that backlash has to be extremely skilled or gifted, and it’s debatable if they can dodge it forever as it is. Nonetheless, if you’re dealing with witches who can consistently gain from dark magick, then you’re dealing with serious people.