Witch for Hire

by Conneely, N. E.

  "Fine, but this isn't going to end well."

  "Your complaint is noted." He settled back in his chair, visibly attempting to calm himself with breathing exercises. "Michelle, did you ever wonder how you and your mother came to be here, outside of a clan?"

  I squirmed, not happy with the direction this was taking. "Sure, but I had a good life and mom didn't seem unhappy most of the time, so I didn't worry about it much."

  "Perhaps not," he looked thoughtful. "There are many things I would like to explain, but let me start with the simplest. I am Mr. Richards, or I pretended to be a man by that name. I am a wizard of considerable power, and most importantly I am your father." He didn't pause long for me to get used to the idea. "I'm most of the reason you ended up here. Your mother, as you know, is not the most powerful witch."

  He pulled her hand into his lap, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. Her posture softened as she relaxed against him. "Her clan was dissatisfied with her power and career. When she started to behave in ways her mother, and clan, didn't approve of, they threatened to exile her. Her clan thought she was in a relationship with a human. They found out she was pregnant and exiled her.

  "By the time she was exiled, we were worried about the child, you. We didn't think it was safe for her to go back to her clan, or come to mine. Witches rarely bother exiles, but a witch who's been adopted by another clan is a different story. Both of you would be safer here in Ellijay. I couldn't come live with you, for various reasons. By the time you were born, your mother had decided that it would be better if I wasn't around. Reluctantly, I agreed, and we kept our relationship from you."

  "She did the best she could to teach you, but when it became apparent that you would surpass her, she reached out to a few trusted friends. Once Mrs. Rinds was teaching you, we knew we couldn't keep going to outside sources, even our good friends were held accountable by their clans. At that point, we were in too deep to change the story. I was the only one who could teach you, so I became Mr. Richards. After you moved out, your mother and I started arguing about the best way to proceed. This was never meant to be a permanent solution," his voice trailed off.

  I listened to every word without saying a thing. I'd always known I had a father, even if I didn't know him. I'd also known my upbringing was unconventional for a witch. It hadn't taken me too long to realize there was something strange about Mr. Richards, but he'd threatened to leave if I ever investigated. As my emotions settled, I became bitterly angry.

  "Hi, Dad. It's nice to meet you. I wish I could have met you, oh, twenty-five years ago. I wish on every tree in the forest I could understand the reasons for all of this, but I don't think you're going to tell me. Dad, are you still worried about me knowing who you are? Mom, did you ever think I might like a dad?" They didn't say anything. "Those were questions, damn it. You owe me that much."

  Greg, or dad, sighed gustily. "Nancy, don't you dare scold her for this. I imagine I'd feel about the same." He looked back to me. "Honestly, yes. Most of the reasons we were afraid still apply, but even our long lives are too short to live in lies. I want to know my daughter. I can protect you, not that you need much help these days. Your mother and I both questioned my involvement in your life, and I missed you every day. She knew it would be hard on you, but trust me when I say we did the best we could. In hindsight, I think we made the right choices. Things have worked out so far, but we don't know what would have happened if we'd done things differently."

  "I want to know the rest." Seriously, you'd think people were out to kill all of us.

  "No." Mom finally spoke up. "Michelle, we love you too much to tell more. We need to take things slow, make new plans slowly. If that goes well your father and I will consider it, but not right now."

  "I'm old enough to be out on my own, and you're still going to pat me on the head and tell me not to worry?" I didn't get it. I didn't get any of it. They lied for years and now, because some of the truth was out, I was supposed to be alright with everything.

  "Michelle, one of the benefits of your upbringing was the separation from the clans. It's also the greatest weakness. I know you're mad at me, but trust me, we need to be careful." Tears were welling up in Mom's eyes.

  "Fine. I need time to think about this. Mom, I also need to know if you'll help me teach those classes. Dad, it was great to meet you." I grabbed my purse and started out of the house.

  "Michelle, wait." Greg was following me. "Here, take the book names." He pressed the list into my hand. "I don't think Nancy would be the best fit for those classes, but I'd like to help. I'd also like a chance to get to know you as my daughter."

  "The money won't be anything close to great, the people won't know any of the same things, and I may be called away at any time. The first class will be six sessions with a seventh class as a make-up and review. If it all goes well, and I still have interested students I'll be offering more classes." I pulled out a business card. "Call or e-mail; let me know your contact information. I'll let you know more details when I have them. Thanks for the tips with the trolls."

  The drive home didn't give me nearly enough time or space to think. I was terrified that if I started to think, I would forget I was driving and crash. Rather than facing whoever was in the dining room I grabbed a plate from the kitchen. Landa would understand once I explained. Heck, odds were she already knew.

  I sat on the ground, leaning against the bench in the garden. I ate food, but until the end of the meal I couldn't have told you more than that. I felt angry, sad, betrayed, deprived, and hurt. I felt loved and cherished. Confusion ruled all the emotions running through me.

  My parents had lied and wrecked their own lives for over twenty years because of me. They had lived without each other, and in fear. They'd known I would be angry and hurt. Everything they'd done had been for me, knowing I might not forgive them. Mom had given up everything that her clan could have given her. I wasn't sure what Greg, dad, whatever I called him, had been doing, but I doubted he'd been happy. Mom had worked strange shifts at the hospital to be with me as often as possible, and Greg was working two jobs while he was tutoring me.

  I was left without a doubt of my parent's love for me, but I was still hurt and sad. I knew my emotions would be erratic until I completely came to terms with the new facts of my life. It may have been silly, but it was going to take time to sort everything out.

  They wanted to protect me, to help me. They were trying to do what was best for me. It was dumb to blame them for decisions long in the past. It was time to move forward, make memories with my father, and as a family. If we were in as much danger as they thought, we should cherish every moment together as if it were the last.

  Long after finishing with lunch, I sat in the garden feeling the peace and happiness of the earth. Realizing I had spent two hours outside, I left, trying to keep the perspective I'd gained. I slipped the plate into the kitchen, glad that Landa wasn't there. I wasn't ready to talk about everything. Snuggling into bed I set an alarm for an hour later. I needed to let my brain shut down and process before letting things go for a while.

  Michelle

  "What do you mean they don't keep track of individual trolls?" The nap had been great, but what should have been a simple call to Jones was turning into another headache, something I didn't need today.

  "They finally admitted that they can't tell us what individuals are missing because they don't know. According to them, they don't have tracking devices in them, keep records for each individual troll, or know more than how many trolls they house."

  I ground my teeth, flipping through pages of notes to what I'd read off their website. "Then why does the United States government employ twenty-three people to look after these trolls? Why does the website say, 'We are actively researching troll culture, mating habits, preferred environments, and seeking donations to support these, and many other studies.' Why did they go on to say how much the funding, both federal and private, had helped increase knowledge of troll soc
iety?" My life should have been a study for Murphy's Law. Everything that could go wrong did, and always in the worst way.

  "Trust me, the FBI, and several law firms, are jumping all over this. No one's said it yet, but they're all whispering about lawsuits," Jones said.

  "Perfect. That doesn't help me at all. Do they at least have the tape from the hundreds of cameras in that dump?" I asked. If they had the video, I had something resembling a plan.

  "Eh, not as much as they should, but I think they have about a week's worth from before the explosion, and they've been recording constantly since the explosion."

  "Great. What if I got you an expert, or more of an expert than anyone at the preserve, to look at the footage?"

  "It would have to come out of what we're paying you already, and I still need a better way to track those beasts."

  "Done. Expert or not, I'll be there tomorrow, and I want a box of recordings ready to come home with me. I'm going to figure out a way to get those trolls back."

  "I'll make sure it's ready for you. Do you have a time you'll be up here?"

  "How's ten-thirty?" I offered, not wanting to get up early.

  "Great, I'll see you then."

  Hearing his phone click, I hung up as well. I knew one or two who could be considered experts, but I wasn't sure who would agree.

  Catching my head in my hands I stared at the grain of the wood. Realizing that procrastination might be the better part of valor, and since I'd have more information tomorrow, I checked my e-mail. A note from my father with a reminder to look up the books, and few lines about how he hoped to hear from me was strange. Seeing his note, I continued my procrastination by making fliers and a course description for the first hedge-practitioner class. Finally, I e-mailed that to my father, asking him to tell me exactly what he thought should be covered in the class. I also suggested some dates and times, and typed a polite reply to his hopeful note.

  I was still surprised that he'd volunteered to teach, since we would be covering basic magic. I headed down for dinner with the guests. Maybe I'd get lucky and find a troll expert.

  I walked into utter chaos. Landa was screaming, "I'll not have a poltergeist in my house. Be gone, you!"

  Mander, Landa's husband, was hiding under the table, braiding strips of the table cloth into a rope. I could feel the magic he was channeling into the rope. Priscele was crouched behind a chair screaming incoherently. The screams were a bit muffled because she was curled up, shielding her head and neck with her arms. A brownie couple had taken cover in the cabinets under the sideboard, peaking out just enough for me to identify them. Two dwarves had pulled out axes and were trying, unsuccessfully, to kill the spirit. They looked to be enjoying themselves, if the war cries were any indication.

  The poltergeist in question looked like an eight year old boy, but was zooming overhead to drop plates on anyone unfortunate enough to be exposed. A croaking sound attracted my attention and I spied a frog hopping down the table. The poltergeist hurled a plate at Landa, who reversed the pate's flight back to him. I wouldn't have thrown a plate at her, knowing brownies in general and Landa in particular. With a squeak, he ducked, and the plate bounced off the wall behind him before coming to rest under the table. Even an enraged Landa had enough control to prevent a plate from shattering. With a frown, he pelted plates at the dwarves. The ones Landa couldn't catch didn't make it past the axes. Apparently, they were defensive weapons too, shields being unnecessary.

  A plate was hurled at me. Dodging, I realized I'd been still a moment too long. Thinking quickly, I pulled my wand out of my pocket and pointed it at the ghost. Focusing on encasing and solidifying, I shouted, "Fehu," as he swooped down to the table. A ghost sized block of ice dropped on to the table, rocking back and forth before stopping.

  "Oh, there you are, dear. I was hoping you'd come down." Landa didn't look pleased to have a frozen poltergeist on her table, but it was better than the alternative. "Thank you for helping us with him."

  "I didn't know what else to do. Do you think it will hold him?" I tapped the ice gently but nothing happened.

  "Aye, it'll do for a time. Mander, could you put him in the freezer? We wouldn't want him to thaw." Mander pulled the magic out of his bit of rope before hoisting the two and a half foot long and foot wide block of ice off the table. I held the kitchen door open for him.

  "You run an exciting business." The dwarves looked amused. They put their axes away and the brownie couple emerged from the cabinets.

  "It wasn't intentional." Landa surveyed the mess of a room. "The food on the table isn't fit to eat, but the sideboard looks fine. I'll bring a plate of appetizers to the parlor while I clean this up. It shouldn't take but a minute." None of us were willing to argue.

  It looked like everyone had just settled down to eat when fun started. The table was adorned with a now tattered looking table cloth, which Mander had been slicing apart to repurpose as rope. The top was covered with the broken remains of dinner plates, glasses, lots of food.

  We all walked across the hall with fresh glasses, pitchers, and a few plates of food following. Everyone started to relax as we settled down to munch. I felt bad for Landa, but she would have it cleaned up in a jiffy. Brownies were skilled at house repairs and cleaning.

  I wasn't sure what the long-term solution for the poltergeist would be; I'd never encountered one like this before. All I'd done was frozen the water in air around and inside of him. He couldn't move out of it because he was fully encased. Poltergeists couldn't pass through solid objects. They had to find a crack or space to move though. Theoretically, he could be encased in the ice forever, never moving, but alive and aware of his surroundings.

  Trent and Blenda, the dwarves, were vacationing from Boston. The brownies, Nellda and Sandar, were just staying for two days. They were moving from Washington, D.C. to Oklahoma and needed a break on from the traveling. They'd sent most of their possessions with a moving service and wanted to sight-see as they moved.

  Landa called us back into the dining room. The table was presentable, though lacking a centerpiece. The food looked unmolested and fresh dishes had been supplied. "I apologize for the excitement. You can be sure I'll not have that mongrel in the house again."

  "Not a bother, a wee bit of excitement is good for the soul," Trent replied.

  I raised my mug. "To excitement." I'd barely swallowed my lavender tea when my phone started buzzing on my hip. A quick peek informed me that my mother was calling. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get this."

  In the hall, I took a deep breath before answering. "Hi, Mom."

  "Michelle, I'm so glad you answered. I wanted to see how you're doing."

  "Mom, I really can't talk right now."

  "I know you're busy, but we need to talk about things."

  "You mean my father."

  "If I meant your father I would have said as much. We need to talk about everything that's gone on." She sounded upset.

  "Mom, I'm busy, and worried. Can we talk about this later?"

  "I don't like it when there's this distance between us."

  I sighed, and started rubbing my temples. She was right, we were always on good terms, and I'd rarely felt unable to talk to her. But, right now it was all I could do to balance the rest of my life. I didn't have the energy to spend on Dad, her relationship with him, or my relationship with him. "Honestly?" She didn't protest so I continued. "The best thing I can do right now is try not to think about him. As selfish as it sounds, I'm worried about my business. There are people depending on me, and I feel like I'm letting them down. As for the relationship the two of you had behind my back—"

  "That's not fair. For a long time we didn't see each other, and for many years it was dinner at a mutual friend's house once a month. We stopped everything to keep you safe. Only recently have we felt safe enough to have the visits you interrupted."

  "I'm sorry, Mom."

  "Don't be. You needed to meet him eventually, and I know this must be frustrating fo
r you."

  "It is, but at the same time, being angry doesn't help. All of that is done—in the past. The best thing I can do is accept how things are now. I'd like a relationship with my father, and I have that chance."

  "Oh, I've wanted you to have a relationship with him from the time you were born. I know he's wanted to be a real father for you, and he's excited to have a chance." Her voice broke.

  "Please, don't cry, Mom. I'm going to try, really try to have a relationship with him. We've been e-mailing. He's going to help me with the class I'm teaching." I paused for effect. "What I said before still applies. I need to focus on work and leave everything else alone right now."

  "Alright," she perked up. "Now, that's settled. You're father and I would like to have you over for Thanksgiving. It would be an evening event since he has obligations early in the day. Do you think you could come?"

  Chapter Seven

  Michelle

  It was a long drive to Forsyth, but I didn't have a choice. Late night phone calls with Mom, a poltergeist, and sleep deprivation weren't excuses for an unfinished job. I needed to pick up the recordings from the troll reserve too. There was nothing like meeting my long lost father to upset my equilibrium.

  Luckily, last night's drama had been tidied up rather nicely. Landa had called an old friend who had experience with unruly children of all races. The boy was on his way to a better life. Not only would the people there care for him, but some of them would also be lacking a corporeal form.

  The dinner drama had cut in to my sleep, but my father was the reason for the headache. It was hard enough to accept my father back into my life without Mom meddling and guilting me into a holiday with him.

  I'd never missed having a dad. Now, I missed all the moments he should have been there, the things he should have taught me. We'd missed so many memories. He should have been there to scare my prom dates, and tell my boyfriends to have me back by nine. It bothered me that fear had kept us from being the family we should've been.