Witch for Hire

by Conneely, N. E.

  "The police don't have a school for you?" I'd always thought that the police trained them and had procedure for them to follow.

  "Yes, but they aren't very good. It's only been in the last fifteen years that we've been considered for these jobs. Before this there were more witches on staff. Then the clans held a big meeting and started setting up firms because they could make more money in industry or with their companies. Without witches in these jobs someone had to fill the gap. Every department has been managing the lack of witches differently, and there aren't enough hedge-practitioners to make things work in lower income areas or outside of cities."

  "Huh. I didn't know that. What kind of class would you want?" I might be able to help them, but I wasn't sure.

  "We want to start at the basics and go from there. None of us have a complete skill set. We need to be better practitioners. I don't want to end up like Cass."

  Cass had been a hedge-wizard in South Georgia. He'd died after tangling with a charmed lamp. He'd had the ability to determine the type of spell, but not the training. The results of the investigation encouraged departments to hire people like me so they would have an expert on call. "I'll think about it, and talk to a few people. If I offer classes, I'll make sure everyone thinks it's my idea."

  "Thanks, Michelle." A smile broke across his face. "I owe you."

  "You do. Don't call me at three in the morning and we'll be even."

  "No promises," he returned with a grin.

  I headed out, with a growing to-do list. The werewolves were something to think about, but usually there was more smoke than fire. I'd fish for more information, but werewolf problems weren't my problem.

  The map was my problem, and was turning into a pain in my rump. As annoying as it would be to drive to Forsyth for the map, I wanted to know why it wasn't working almost as much as the sheriff. Spells didn't usually give me this much trouble.

  The classes were a way I could make a difference in other practitioner's lives. If they were well trained they would be better at their jobs, and I could spend less time on small things. I wouldn't mind acquiring more departments or being able to devote all my attention to one big case.

  I didn't know the exact limitations of hedge-practitioners, or how to teach them the basics. Would the basics be the same for them? I needed to talk to my mom and to an old teacher of mine. It would be a good time to get their thoughts on the map spell and troll mess.

  Seeing the car clock, I realized I didn't have enough time to go home before meeting the girls at Ronnie's Pizza. I'd be a little bit early but early was better than late for the first girl's night in weeks.

  Pulling in to the parking lot, I was happy it didn't look too crowded. I sauntered in and settled at the big table in the back. It was our favorite table because it had room for the three of use to spread out and lots of space for food.

  Tiffany arrived first, her short pixie accenting her delicate features. This month's color was a burgundy, which looked spectacular with her olive skin and brown eyes.

  "Hey, darlin', how are you?" She slid in next to me, giving me a one-armed hug as she grabbed a menu.

  I fished out two more menus, sticking one in Amber's seat. "I'm busier than I'd like to be. Do you know when . . . never mind. Amber's here."

  "So, I'm the slow one today? That's rare. I guess you guys really missed me." Amber was striking, slender, cheerful, and born with silver hair.

  "We just got here. Let's catch up after we order. What do you guys want?" Tiffany loved to eat.

  "I'm getting bread sticks and a calzone with black olives, mushrooms, spinach, onions, pepperoni, and green olives." I loved that calzone.

  "Oh," Amber looked so excited. "They have that bruschetta pizza again. I'm getting a medium so I can take leftovers home, and I'll get some garlic bread."

  "That does sound good." Tradition was we each ordered a different dish so I would be getting a piece of the delicious pizza.

  "The Italian sausage and pepperoni stuffed pizza is just too good to resist, and I'll get a large order of cheese rounds."

  "Can I get drinks for you?" The waiter was cute and efficient. We ordered drinks and the mountain of food.

  "I have to go first. Mark finally asked me out!" Amber squealed.

  "We'll have to toast when the drinks get here." It didn't matter what we were drinking we always toasted good news.

  "When's the first date?" Tiffany had a point. We'd been waiting for Mark to ask Amber out for a couple of months.

  "Tomorrow. He's taking me out to dinner. He wouldn't say where, just that it was casual and we'd have fun there."

  "A little surprise never hurt anyone. You'll have to tell us how it goes next week. I'm not letting another police emergency get between me and girl's night."

  "What happened last week? We got your text but you didn't tell us what was going on." Tiffany always wanted to know what I was working on. Her curiosity made her a great private investigator. The waiter returned with the drinks

  "We'd moved dinner to Thursday because Amber had to work late on Friday, right?" They nodded. "I missed last week because I was called to a house to remove a copper sun sculpture they'd recently acquired. It was shooting fireballs at everyone who tried to come in," I managed to finish without laughing.

  Amber fought off the giggle long enough to ask, "Seriously?"

  "I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I think a witch enchanted it as a door guard. The couple who purchased it didn't know it was so lively."

  Tiffany looked sadly into her drink. "I never do anything that fun."

  "Hon, you make twice what I do, maybe three times. What were the last three cases you worked, cheating spouses?"

  "Yes."

  "You get to keep fairly regular hours, and you're paid a lot of money to take pictures. If I didn't like this so much, I'd quit and work with you."

  "You're both being silly." Amber was a peacemaker. "Michelle, you can't take a good picture to save your life. Tiffany, you can't do magic." We smiled and shrugged.

  "How's the office?" Tiffany asked. Amber worked at a law firm as a paralegal in between turning furry, well feathery, once a month. She shifted into a peahen.

  "Same as always. Nothing crazy good or bad. Have you guys heard about the werewolves?" Tiffany shook her head.

  I answered because I wanted to know more. "I heard they were having trouble."

  "Oh, yeah. They have problems. Everyone likes the current alpha, Simon, but his son, Adder, has been moving up and no one likes him. A few people think he's cool, but mostly he's strange. I mean really strange. Adder is bloodthirsty, violent, bad-tempered, and hell on four legs in a fight. The pack is worried that he's going to make a bid for alpha and kill his father. No one in the pack can take him out without challenging him, but they know they can't beat him in a fight." Amber paused for the arrival of the food.

  We traded around bits of appetizers and gossip. "The other shifter's can take him out if he hurts someone outside of the pack. Until then, we should hope for his untimely demise." I wouldn't hold my breath. Shifters were hard to kill.

  "Right. I'm hoping some third party, not bound by our rules, will fix this, but I doubt it. I'm worried. He's a bad one." The last crazy werewolf had killed fifteen people, and injured dozens, before the police arrested him. I had a bad feeling Adder was headed down that path, and the police would want me to be on the front line.

  Chapter Six

  Michelle

  "Dang it, mom, pick up your phone," I complained before the phone was tossed on the passenger seat. She hadn't answered last night or the three times I'd called this morning. I didn't usually show up at her house without warning, but I couldn't warn her if she didn't answer. Now, I was worried about her.

  Rolling to a stop next to mom's car I tried to figure out why Mr. Richards' car was here. If it wasn't his car, I really wanted to meet the other person who had a "Clans and Spam: bad for the health" bumper sticker on an original VW Bug.

  I
walked up the steps of the brick house and mashed the doorbell. Nothing happened. I punched the little button a few times, and heard the annoying chime. Someone shuffled around inside, but the door wasn't answered. Exasperated, I banged on it. "Mom, let me in. I've been calling all day, this is silly."

  Mom cracked open the door, blocking me from entering. "Michelle, I didn't know you were coming."

  "You should have. I think I've called ten times." I pushed past her.

  "That was you? I thought it was a wrong number." She reluctantly pushed the door closed behind me.

  "It was me, Mom. Why didn't you answer?" Odd, her shirt and pants didn't match and she wasn't wearing any make up. Not that she needed any, but she liked to accent her auburn hair with a touch of green eyes hadow.

  "I was busy."

  "Busy with what? Is Mr. Richards here?" Mom and I might not always agree, but things were usually smoother.

  "Just busy. No, why would you think that?"

  I pointed out the window. "Because that's his car."

  She blinked. "No, it isn't. His was . . . newer."

  I snorted. "Last time he was here it was newer, but that's been years. Now, it's even older. I need to talk to him. If he isn't here, can I have his number?"

  "No," Mom paused, eyes darting back and forth, "he's dead. I'm sorry, I thought you knew, but he died six months ago."

  "Remarkable." It was silly to think that he had died, and Mom hadn't told me. He'd been the picture of health last time I'd seen him, and mom was being weird. "So, if that's not his car, and he's not here, who is here?"

  Her face fell and her eyes darted to the kitchen and back. "Let's go get some tea."

  "Alright." This wasn't normal behavior for Mom.

  She paused at the counter, and tilted her head like she was talking to someone telepathically. I heard footsteps in the hall before she turned to address me. "Michelle, I'd like you to meet—"

  "Me, Greg Nelson." Greg looked to be the same age as my mother, which was more of a phase than an age. For a larger portion of their adult life witches had an ageless quality. They didn't look like a kid anymore, but they didn't look old either. He was a tall warlock, all legs and arms, with a bit of gray edging his black hair.

  Confused by Mom's worried look, I carefully shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Nelson. I'm Michelle Oaks, but I think you know that."

  Mom set a tray on the table and handed a mug and tea infuser to me. I poured the hot water over the tea and added a bit of sugar before I sat. This was all so strange. "How long have you known my mother?"

  "A while."

  "When did you meet?"

  "Some time ago."

  "But when was that some time ago?'

  The hint of a smile left his face. "It doesn't matter."

  Taking the hint, I turned to mom. "Do you want to help me teach some classes? I need one person that I can guarantee will be there, and you know how my days are."

  "What kind of classes?" She was darting glances at Greg, but trying to appear serene.

  "I want to start a class for hedge-practitioners to go over the basics and from there build to harder classes. The police don't have a system for training their practitioners, and I've been thinking about giving some classes to help them."

  "I don't know. It could be fun. It's been a long time since I taught anyone outside of work." Mom was a medical practitioner at the local hospital.

  "I was hoping you could put me in touch with some of my old teachers. I have a tricky bit of magic that I'm working on and I'd like some advice. Do you think you could help me, or are the rest of them dead too?"

  "Perhaps, I might be of use," Greg interjected. "I am more skilled at advanced magic than your mother, and I would be more than willing to try." He looked entirely too eager.

  "It's complicated," I answered.

  "I'm sure it is. Why don't you tell me and I'll try to help." I was quiet long enough for him to add, "I mean you and your mother no harm."

  I studied him before answering. "Did you hear about the escaped trolls?"

  "Yes, I think most of the country knows by now."

  "Thanks a lot," I muttered. "I'm trying to help the police capture them, but I don't have anything that belonged to those particular trolls. I managed to work up a spell that would, for the most part, track trolls."

  "How'd you do the spell? It makes a difference for these things, you know."

  My eyes narrowed. He sounded just like Mr. Richards. "I took a map, and using soil, told it not to look for trolls inside the boundaries of that ground. Then, taking a mix of troll's blood, I told it to look for something like that, but not exactly that blood. The next day I told it not to look for human type blood because it had been picking up on non-trolls. I'm not sure what exactly it's showing now, but I've got about double the indicators that I should." Carefully sipping my tea I discovered it was cool enough to drink.

  "Why can't you get something that belonged to each troll? That would be easier." I was glad he didn't sound condescending, just curious.

  "For some reason they can't figure out which trolls escaped, never mind provide me with a belonging." If I sounded frustrated, it's because I was.

  "Who runs the preserve?"

  "I don't know, but they seem rather incompetent." I sighed. "Can you help me with the spell?"

  "You did the spell perfectly, from the sound of it." Again, he sounded like Mr. Richards.

  "Then why did fifteen people walk all over the area that the map showed a troll in and find every sign of trolls, but no trolls?"

  "Caves?"

  "I don't think there are a lot of caves in that area, but I could be wrong."

  "What does the habitat that they live in look like?"

  I was confused. It was never this hard to get Mom on the phone, and she was jumpy. I pushed those feelings away, and answered the question. "A lot of big rocks that were crafted to look like caves. The caves are mostly in a field and have cameras embedded in them."

  "I think they found a way to hide underground, or moved just before the searchers went out looking for them." He started to munch on a scone my mother had set on the table.

  "Great, but do you have anything helpful to add?" I didn't have any other good ideas.

  "Why can't they tell you which trolls are missing?

  I swallowed some tea, wishing it would calm me down. "Darn good question. I don't have an answer."

  "Have you tried a spell, or a lodestone, to help guide the police once they're in the same area as the trolls?" Greg asked.

  "I've been thinking about a lodestone. If you think it'll help, I'll make one."

  "It can't hurt."

  "Did that help, dear?" Mom had been uncharacteristically quiet through the exchange.

  "Yes, it did." Knowing what she expected, I continued with, "Thank you Mr. Nelson."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't help more. What was this about classes you wanted to hold for hedge-practitioners?"

  "I'd never really thought about it, but when I talked to them they told me they were trained by family members. They don't know how to make the best use of their powers. I want to set up a series of three classes, to start with, to review basics and build their base of knowledge."

  "Do you know much about how their power works?"

  "Not as much as I'd like. Why?" Perhaps he'd be more useful than he was with my troll problem.

  "I know a little about the subject. More importantly, I know several books that are very helpful. I'll write down the titles for you."

  "Thanks." Why wasn't mom talking? What was really going on here? "Mom, I still need a second teacher for the class. I can't be sure that I'll always be there, and I can't make it work if I'm rescheduling all the time."

  "I'll think about it. Why don't I call you tomorrow?" She flashed a look at Greg.

  "I drove all the way up here because I called you, over a twelve hour span, and you didn't answer the phone. I'd like an explanation for that. I'd like to know why you keep acting fu
nny. I'd like to know what he's doing here, with Mr. Richards' car." Knowing she would yell at me, I did something unbelievably rude. I grabbed Greg's hand and pulsed magic across his skin before he had a chance to pull away. Releasing him I leaned back in my chair. "And I'd really love to know why he has the same aura as the dearly departed Mr. Richards. Anything you want to share?"

  Greg studied my mother. "We agreed years ago, mostly because you felt this would be better, that this was how things should be. We've past the point where your reasons are valid. You know my feelings on this, Nancy."

  She glared at him, the corners of her mouth pinching. "My reasons are just as valid today, if not more so. I fail to see why things should change."

  They were hiding something from me, and had been for a long time by the sound of it. With one suspicion after another rolling through my mind, I listened to the rest of their disagreement.

  "Let the past stay in the past. The arrangement was never intended to be permanent. Fear is clouding your judgment, like it did years ago." He looked dead set on what he was saying.

  "Fine. Do what you want. Ruin everything we've done." She crossed her arms and looked at the ceiling.

  "We've done, Nancy?" he demanded. "What we? You did everything. I was left with scraps and lies. You left me with nearly nothing, and I made the best of it. I'm not letting you do that to me again. If you don't want to be a part of this, then just walk outside while I get the first real chance I've ever had to—"

  "Children," I yelled, having heard enough. "Can you excuse me or explain? This is fascinating, but would be more fun if I knew what you were fighting about." They both turned to look at me, as if surprised to see me sitting here. "Now, I don't know what this is about, but I don't think acting like children is the way to solve it. Frankly, I want answers."

  Greg sighed. "Probably not." He turned to look at my mom, "Nancy, I don't think you can stop me."