Bump (A Witchlight Novel)

by Jaime Munn

  “I think I got that all from hello. You needn’t have bothered.” I smiled tightly. Not wanting to but needing to, I held out my hand.

  Grace considered the gesture a moment, but I knew she’d intended it all along. She hadn’t removed her gloves to show me sparkly rings. She wore none. Reaching out her hand, she clasped mine.

  We read one another and understood one another completely, no more word sparring needed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I could relax again once Grace St John left Witch Light. Her darkness had seemed to cloud the air the moment we touched. I’d felt suffocated by her presence. She would consume Emma if she could. Leah’s blessing was no guarantee that she wouldn’t. Grace would never back down. I was half certain she’d been the complication in Emma’s delivery that had led to her mother’s death. I might have remained standing there well into the night, but Livia dropped by and the chimes singing as she entered the store snapped me out of my dark reverie.

  “Nilla, we’ve got drinks tonight at six with Kevin,” she said. Kevin was a potential new paramour. Livia had roped me into tagging along on their first date. I’d almost forgotten that I’d committed to chaperoning her.

  “I lost track of time,” I told her, “I don’t need to change.”

  She looked at me in horror. I nodded.

  “Right. There’s always time to change.”

  I closed up the shop and headed home to my apartment with Livia beside me. She sounded a little like Erica as she catalogued my wardrobe and began suggesting potential combinations that would highlight my features; the caramel of my skin, the dark mahogany of my hair, the earthy browns of my eyes. I began to wonder just who was going on a date tonight.

  “Are you planning on auctioning me off tonight, Liv?” I asked. She scowled at me like I’d yelled a profanity at her.

  Thinking that it was her true name, I had made the mistake—early on in our relationship—of calling her Olivia. Livia had spent half an hour ranting about it. She’d been all sunbeams moments after, but during her fume, I’d wondered if a vowel had just doomed our tentative friendship. I’d never mentioned the O word again. From that memorable event in our friendship timeline, I had learned that anything other than her given name was an affront to Livia Darrow. Calling her Liv had the same effect on her as would anyone calling me Vanilla. It had accusation and suspicion threaded through it and foresaw already the guilt of the wrongdoer. It’s that childhood feeling of oops I did it again without the Britney pop.

  “There’s no reason not to look your best on a night out,” Livia pouted at me, playing the slighted innocent though I could almost smell her guilt. “Honestly, Nilla, how am I supposed to set you up if you dress like you’re already off the market?”

  “Just who all did you invite along tonight?”

  “Really,” Livia sighed, not looking at me. “You’re more hard work than selling still life paintings.”

  My apartment wasn’t that far from the store. I was paying more than that golden ratio of rent to income, but I walked to work. It seemed to me to be a fair trade off. Plus, the apartment was lovely. You couldn’t tell that though from the gated entrance slapped between a hardware store and a Chinese emporium of knickknacks and mysterious grocery wares labelled with loud Mandarin script. There was a packet of something that I’d bought there once on impulse in my cupboard. I still had no idea how to prepare it.

  While I changed Livia tutted over the contents of my refrigerator. I could hear her grumbling but couldn’t make out the words. I didn’t need to. I had heard them often enough. The number of sweet, chocolately goodness in a witch’s kitchen has undoubtedly inspired shock, horror, delight, and no small amount of envy in most who catch a glimpse of it. The tale of Hansel and Gretel, I was convinced, was a twisted tale about childish envy of a witch’s sugary store. Hansel and Gretel just had sweet tooth lust. In my version, the witch was the hero. She also didn’t own a child sized oven. That got me to thinking about Leah, Sarah, Emma, and their wicked witch who almost certainly would never be the hero in any tale.

  Short of putting Grace St John in a grave, I didn’t see how I could keep little Emma from being consumed by the long, dark shadow of her aunt. Not even the thought of little Emma’s innocence being destroyed by Grace was enough to change my nature. Lacking the cold blood to kill had never been a negative before. Mentally I cursed the foul woman and wished a thousand horrible deaths on her, but none were twisted through with spiteful magic or charms. They were just words.

  Livia’s grumbles were getting louder. I forced distraction aside to complete my external transformation from shopkeeper to glam best friend. Not too glam though. The last thing Livia would appreciate was Kevin drooling over the wrong girl.

  I hadn’t taken any of Livia’s outfit advice. Not because I hadn’t thought them very good but because allowing your BFF to play dress up like you were her living Barbie doll seemed like a bad idea. I entered the open plan kitchen and lounge area like it was a catwalk. Livia eyed me speculatively.

  “Yes, yes, no.”

  She checked off my baby blue comfortable wedge sandals that added height without making me feel like I was walking on stilts. They also allowed me some options regarding a quick getaway if the evening went pear shaped. Livia and I might need to sneak out of the woman’s bathroom window. Not that that had ever happened, but it was something we had once planned for when we’d been bored enough to discuss emergency procedures. She checked off the summery chiffon dress that fell to just above my knees. It had slim straps over my shoulders in various bands of blue that made me think of a quilt made from every seasonal colour of the sky. She ended with an accusing finger pointing at my hair.

  “You’ve still got shop hair, Nilla.” She turned me around so that I was facing the bedroom again. “And you’re not wearing any jewellery.” She said like it was a fatal sin.

  I nodded, sighed, and headed back the way I’d come. I'd under-glammed.

  Standing at the mirror, brushing out my hair, I wondered how long it would be before Grace crossed my path again. My reading of the wicked witch had shown me how little patience she had. Grace would seek a quick resolution. She had no qualms about making it a final resolution. There were no corpse shadows hovering at the edges of my vision foretelling death, but that didn’t mean anything. A witch who had a premonition of her own death was a rare thing. I’d already had one. I figured that would be my only personal experience with a corpse shadow. Up until now, I’d been very happy with that arrangement.

  When I couldn’t possibly brush any longer, I took in the glossy waves of dark mahogany that now framed my features. In typical human fashion, I was unhappy with the waves that hairdressers charged fortunes to create artificially. There was no time to bring out the iron and straighten it.

  I set down the brush and selected a simple silver chain with a small tourmaline hanging from it from my small trove of jewellery. I’d known witches who stored energy in crystals, but it had always seemed like too much hard work to me. Now part of me thought I’d been a fool. I could picture Grace St John surrounded by black quartz crystals that glowed with power, waiting for her to release them to her dark purposes. It was a bit cliché, but I didn’t think Grace minded a little cliché in her life.

  Despite Livia accusing me of not wearing any jewellery, I had silver studs in my ears. They went well with the silver chain, so I decided not to pick something more flashy from my collection. My eyes did briefly rest on the large silver hoops that made me feel like Cher dressed for a rendition of Dark Lady. That particular association was enough to sway me against the hoops. Grace St John was dark enough for the both of us.

  When I emerged from the bedroom, Livia gave me a quick once over and nodded in satisfaction. “I’d kill for your hair,” she said.

  “Ditto,” I shot back, thinking Livia’s straight blond tresses were the most beautiful on the planet. “Let’s go before Kevin gets hit on by a pretty brunette.”

  Livia scowled at
me.

  Still, we did leave my apartment like we were going to miss the last bus if we didn’t get to the stop quick enough.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dusk was the traditional first date locale for Livia. She liked the comfortable couches, the long bar, and the little tables that spilled into a garden of potted plants on paving stones where you could have tapas with your drinks. The evening was still warm from the heat of the day, but the sultry edge was gone. I wondered if I would be regretting my choice of outfit before the night was over. This early into summer the evenings could still drop to almost wintry lows.

  “There’s Kevin,” Livia said, pointing out a tall and lanky man who didn’t look like he ate enough to sustain his body. I gave Livia a look. She shook her head. “Don’t say anything, Nilla. You haven’t seen his abs.”

  I blinked, wondering how Livia had seen them. Whisper Falls wasn’t a coastal town, and we didn’t have a community pool. She waved away my unvoiced question.

  “He’s a runner. He jogs in my neighbourhood every morning. He’s been making these early starts to the day worthwhile lately.”

  “Voyeur,” I replied with a smile. Livia wasn’t a morning person, but she had enough residual perk in her engine to start each day like she was full of bubbling enthusiasm. You’d only know that if you knew her well enough.

  “You grab that couch, I’ll grab Kevin,” her voice lowered to a sultry purr. She sashayed away before I could ask her why she wanted the biggest couch Dusk had to offer.

  There weren’t too many patrons at Dusk yet. The evening was still too early. Livia didn’t care for waiting till the crowds thought it was cool enough to be seen in public at trendy places. Her evening started when it suited her and not fashion. Not being much of a slave to the whims of cool myself I appreciated being able to pick the best seats in the house. The big couch admittedly was that place in Dusk, unless you wanted the little table beside the potted Evening Primrose with its sweet scent to romance the night. Kevin and Livia might find themselves sitting there if they made it to a second or third date.

  I sank into the couch with a relieved sigh. The lamp trade kept me on my feet most of the day. I was accustomed to lounging on the couch at home straight after work. I had a feeling that my chaperoning duties had been called into play precisely because of that. If I wasn’t dating or wasn’t involved in a relationship, then something wasn’t right in the world. At least, this was Livia’s viewpoint. While I wasn’t precisely a loner, I had spent more of my life alone than involved with another. The independence suited me.

  Livia, on the other hand, had almost never been out of the dating game. She enjoyed the early flirting, the fresh new romance in a burgeoning relationship. Then inevitably grew dissatisfied by the decline of those heady, breathless dates into what she described as staid familiarity. As far as Livia was concerned, familiarity did breed contempt. Short lived though her relationships were, they were a lifetime of experience squeezed into a handful of weeks. Keeping up with her was tiring, but rewarding.

  Livia joined me with Kevin a short while later bearing Cosmos in her hands. She handed me one and reluctantly took it from her. I couldn’t tell her not tonight, Liv, I might be spelling against a bad witch. Despite what you might read in witch hunting propaganda, witchcraft and booze didn’t actually mix well.

  Kevin had a cider in his hands, which he switched from right to left when Livia introduced us. His hands were warm despite the coolness of the drink he’d recently held.

  “Nice to meet you, Nilla,” he said. I felt like he genuinely meant it. I echoed the sentiment, and they sat down next to me. Livia’s eyes kept darting to the doorway. I had a completely non-magical premonition about the evening. Livia was still trying to set me up.

  I wasn’t too surprised when ten minutes into my Cosmo—alongside a little getting to know you chat with Kevin—Erica walked into Dusk. What did surprise me, and Livia too from the stiffening of her posture, was the vibrant looking woman beside her. She was lithe and moved with a grace that might have made others think she was a dancer. Her hair was darker than mine and cut short, falling in wild curls that made her look younger than she was. Her eyes were striking, smoky amber and full of energy. They roved through Dusk and the club’s patrons like she was in thrall to an insatiable curiosity, but I knew better. Her delicate nose wrinkled a moment. I didn’t need all these signs to know that the woman beside Erica was not entirely what she seemed.

  She was also beautiful. Was this Erica’s not to subtle response to the words I’d carelessly spoken in Tangles? It was an irony that she could not appreciate that her date was more clearly the type of woman I preferred to date than she could ever be. Erica’s date was a werewolf. The smoky amber eyes locked on me and widened slightly, her lips curving into a sudden smile. She could see into my world; she could see the otherness in me as easily as I could see it in her. She could probably smell my witchiness even from the entrance to Dusk.

  Livia muttered under her breath at me, “Nilla, you’re not flirting with Erica’s date already are you?”

  The woman in question smiled wider, her eyes narrowing speculatively. Her hearing would be infinitely more sensitive than anyone else in Dusk. I felt a flush coming on and turned quickly to face my friend.

  “Livia, thy name is duplicity,” I said.

  She quirked a brow before my meaning became clear to her. She had been trying to set me up with Erica. Again. I had to admit that Livia took the saying, where there was a will there was a way, to heart. It didn’t matter to her that I had evaded her attempts to get me to date her boss. Possibly she had ignored my refusals because, despite it all, I did have a superficial attraction to the painted lady. She had no idea what principle held me back.

  I turned back to see Erica leading the way towards our couch, waving to us. I was suddenly glad that Livia had forced me into gussying up for the evening. For once I didn’t feel underdressed when Erica’s gaze travelled quickly over me. I thought I saw a small flicker of surprise cross her features. She’d never seen me outside of my casual wear I realised.

  Her werewolf date was breathing the air in Erica’s wake. I wondered what scents were running through Dusk and whispering secrets to her. Was she focused solely on being in the perfumed current that Erica created as she approached us? She obviously had no trouble dating people who could never understand the world she was from. I felt a sudden jealousy toward both women.

  “I know I’m a little late,” Erica said as she reached us, focusing on Livia though I noticed her eyes darting to me occasionally. “Sofia brought me a few artworks for the gallery. I hope you don’t mind, but since she’s in town for the night, I thought I’d bring her along.” The woman in question, standing now at her side, smiled. No one would realise that she was hiding a jaw filled with wolf teeth. I wondered what kind of werewolf she was.

  There was more than one kind, though most of them were born of a single bite. A witch had once told me that werewolves were a wild seed. The wolves themselves had a saying, to every wolf their moon. Both of these phrases meant the same thing. No one knew what kind of werewolf they would become, not until after the bite. It was easy to see why few chose to become a werewolf when the result was so completely unpredictable. I had often wondered if even soothsayers could predict the nature of the wolf that would awaken in a person exposed to a werewolf bite.

  “Sofia Bragga,” Erica introduced her werewolf to us, “this is Livia Darrow, without whom I could not run Tangles.” As Sofia held out a hand to Livia, I realised that while I had always felt that Erica was skin deep in her appraisals, she never belittled anyone. I had once heard her introduce a street vendor who sold flowers every morning on Main Street as her florist. “Liva’s date, Kevin Niles.” I wasn’t surprised that Erica knew his surname. I couldn’t recall if Livia had ever mentioned it before. I made a mental note of it now, feeling somewhat chastised by Erica’s depth of knowledge when it came to whom my best friend was dating. “And this is Nill
a Hayes, a local business owner. She and Livia are a package deal.”

  “BFFs forever,” Livia agreed wholeheartedly.

  Sofia smiled at me; her lips were glossy from some lip balm that imparted a rosy tincture as well as the glittering finish. She didn’t show her teeth. It was a wolf thing. When a werewolf smiles at you with pearly whites showing, it’s not a sunny smile. It’s a warning. Her hand was warm, almost hot. She felt like a summer’s night, sultry and restless.

  “Sofia is a genius with glass and steel. I’ve included both of her pieces in the Summer Myths collection.”

  Even without a sound escaping her lips, I could hear Livia groan.

  “What are they titled?” I asked feeling decidedly wicked. Livia couldn’t prevent herself from throwing me a hard look.

  “Jewel of Hestia,” Sofia supplied. Her voice was like a lullaby or a softly running brook. I felt like she was looking deep into me, her amber eyes playful and curious. I’d had a thing for werewolves once. Though I had pretended my wild days were over, I couldn’t deny that Sofia had me fondly recalling those adventurous nights in the city. “And Lugh’s Window.”

  “They sound lovely,” I said, trying not to taint my words with surprise. Livia seemed to perk up, possibly at the thought of how much easier they would be to sell just based on how their names would roll off the tongue.

  “They’re gorgeous,” Erica jumped in. “They’re not only beautiful to look at but inside them is another world.” I started at that. “They’re kaleidoscopes. Though you’ll have to point that out to people, or they would never know that there is more than just the outer beauty to both pieces.”

  “Enough shop talk,” Livia said with an easy smile, “get yourselves some drinks and squeeze in next to Nilla. I’m sure there’s space enough on this couch for another two.”