Jinxed_Toxic Bitchcraft Book One

by K. B. Ladnier

  Since sleep wasn’t really in the cards, I’d decided to take my frustration out on the large amounts of dust and dirt that seemed to allocate in the shop between cleanings. Anyone who really knew me, which pretty much included my mother and Turk, knew that if I was cleaning, stay the fuck out of my way.

  I threw on my headphones, flipped through my playlist on my phone, and then blasted Black Sabbath as I got my rage on. First, I attacked the dust on all the furniture, wondering how the hell I managed to go so long without gaining allergies from how much dust I cleaned off. I went through two containers of antiseptic wipes, grimacing when they came back black. Was Turk half assing his cleaning? Then, it was the smudge marks and grime that built up along all the glass on the counter and within the display cases. That surprisingly wasn’t so bad, but best bet anyone could eat their food off them by the time I was done. Toast watched me like a hawk from the top of an old armoire, his tail flicking and eyes assessing me like I’d lost my mind. When I got to vacuuming the dark, berry purple carpet, I was met with a string of curses from first Shakes, then not long after Turk. My pixie partner had apparently slept in his little mushroom house in Twink Form that night, and I was ruining his beauty rest. I only heard them because the vacuum had a vendetta against me and kept stopping. A few kicks and it worked fine again.

  I was feeling much less stressed as I swayed my hips to Witching Hour by In This Moment, dancing as I swiveled back and forth the vacuum. Unfortunately, one of my more enthusiastic hip bumps knocked into a glass case containing a jade bowl filled with all kinds of gems and fine jewelry — my most expensive ones at that. Before I could catch it, it crashed to the floor with a thundering crash of glass and metal. Toast screeched at the noise, leapt from his perch, and dashed up the stairs, practically leaving a trail of hair in his wake. The gems and jewelry scattered everywhere amongst the shards, and my heart sank.

  I switched off the vacuum and cursed the Goddess. “I just fucking swept all this! Argh!”

  Turk flew down from his mushroom, transforming in a shower of glitter and a slight pop sound, then faced me in his full Butch Queen form.

  “Ooooh, you done broke it!” Turk mused in mock terror; his hands at his cheeks and mouth wide.

  “Is it just me or is this like the epitome of my life. Just a glass box of emotion, easily shattered by one too many hip sways.”

  Turk turned to me. “Is that code for too much sex? Cause if it is, can I have your life?”

  I rolled my eyes and bent down, getting to work on picking up yet another mess in my life. I was only half joking when I asked Turk that. It seemed like everything was as fragile as this damn glass case nowadays. My magic. My sexual relations with Orrin. My relationship with my mother. Hell, my relationship with everyone.

  I really shouldn’t complain though. I actually did love my life. I enjoyed my mostly solitude life style, with the exception of Turk. I loved my shop. I loved…Shakes. Wow. I went to that level, didn’t I? That’s just sad.

  As I sifted through the glass littering the floor and picked up the gems, I mused on and on to myself, trying to go over the pros and cons of being an almost magic-less witch with almost no social skills.

  I yelped in surprise when a shard of glass lodged into one of my fingers. Blood welled up at the tip and I pulled the shard out. See. Accident prone.

  “I swear, Crafty, you’d be so lost without me,” Turk said, before grabbing my hand and making me hold it up so he could rub his hands together, smattering a little pixie dust on my finger.

  The wound immediately healed, and I wiped the excess blood on my leggings. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, but a band aid would’ve been fine.”

  Turk snorted at my response, and we went back to picking up the gemstones. I took special care to not let another shard stab me as I milled through the pile.

  When my fingers wrapped around one of the last pieces, a shock shot through my entire body, freezing me to the spot. I couldn’t move as a rush of magic flooded past me. My hair blew back from my face as the stone heated in my hand. My teeth clenched, and bones vibrated painfully beneath my flesh. I heard Turk shout my name, but it was as if my head had been shoved under water. My lungs constricted, tightening my chest and stealing my breath.

  As suddenly as it came, it was over. I fell to my knees. The shards of glass I landed on dug into my legs, cutting through my leggings. I paid them no mind though as I stared breathlessly at the stone in my hand.

  It was a Labradorite, smoothed out into an oval shape. The pearly hues shimmered in a range of iridescent blues and greens, with streaks of black and smudges of yellow. The whole stone was encased in a rose gold fixture with filigree that wrapped around the stone, protecting it. In my aggravated state, I didn’t stop and think before touching this. While it didn’t look like much more than another fine piece of jewelry, I knew better. This stone was like a freaking rock star in witch lore. It was a centerpiece for most spiritual magic, linking us to the spirit realm. How this ended up among regular jewelry at all, had me on edge. I knew better than to put something like this in a glass case that anyone could just pick the lock and open. Or better yet, push it over like my clumsy ass just did.

  A shiver passed over me at feeling that power. It was massive and all consuming. My heart still raced beneath my sternum.

  Turk’s hands framed my face, and I heard him shout my name. I snapped out of my daze and glanced up at him.

  “Son of a shifter, you scared me! What the ever-loving pixie was that?” His hands swiped at my forehead and he grimaced. “You’re all sweaty and far pastier than usual. You okay, Crafty?”

  I nodded; though, I wasn’t actually sure. I swallowed and glanced down again at the now cool stone in the palm of my hand. Whatever secret had been locked inside was long gone now.

  Turk helped me to my feet and pointed at the stone. “What is that exactly?”

  I shook my head, ignoring his question and asking my own. “Turk, how’d this get into that case? Please tell me you didn’t put this in there.”

  He stepped a little closer and leaned down, avoiding touching it completely.

  His brows pinched for a second before he nodded his head. “I remember this. Some dude came by and pawned it last week. It was in a stash of a bunch of other jewels. I could tell it was valuable along with the others, and he asked for them was a pretty fair price. I figured we were down on money lately and could sell them easily, since they were obviously worth way more than he was asking.” A confused expression crossed his face. “I touched it though. How come it didn’t react to me like it did to you?”

  I couldn’t help the wave of fear that erupted inside me. I only felt shaky from the actual power that radiated from it, but otherwise I felt fine. However, that didn’t mean something didn’t get released from this. These were powerful stones. Ones that weren’t meant to be trifled with.

  “Do you remember who it was?” I asked him, hoping if he had a description I could pin point the specific warlock that sold this to us. It may help me understand better what we’d be dealing with. I really needed to invest in some damn security cameras.

  He shook his head with a frown. “I don’t remember. He seemed rather ordinary, so I didn’t really stop and pay attention to what he looked like.” His eyes traced over my face, taking in the expression of worry I was most likely exhibiting. “Are you okay? Should we be worried? Shit, I’m sorry, Christi. I didn’t even think.”

  Not in the right state of mind to worry about getting angry at him, I clasped his wrist. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. Your intentions were good. And to answer your questions, it didn’t react because you’re not a witch or warlock. Labradorite only reacts to our magic, not any other magical creature. As far as if we should be worried, I’m not sure yet. This is a spirit stone. It could contain anything from something as peaceful as the essence of someone’s great grandma or something as dark and insidious as a vengeful spirit. What I felt didn’t feel evil, but it was powerful. It rattled me, a
nd I couldn’t move, speak, or even breathe. This was an exception spell.”

  “Let’s get you cleaned up. Your legs are bleeding.” Turk wrapped a hand around my elbow and led me to the back room.

  Not really having to worry about him ogling me, I slipped my leggings slowly down my legs and perched myself on the counter. As Turk tended to my knees and shins for me, I grazed my thumb over the smooth surface; trepidation tickled the back of my neck. There was nothing we could do now but wait. The stone was no longer a threat. But whatever just got released into my shop, very well may be.

  I stuffed the stone into my hoodie pocket. It was useless to me now, but something told me to hold onto it. Just in case. In case of what? I didn’t know.

  The first few days after touching the stone, everything was quiet and relatively normal.

  So far, there was no fall out. But, I kept my guard up. I submersed myself back into preparing more batches of bath bombs and perfecting my simple spells for my Spills, but I constantly found myself watching my back. My witchy sense was on a tingling spree, making it hard for me to sleep at night. The slightest creak would wake me, no matter how deep the slumber.

  I felt like this was the calm before the storm. That I was being placed into a cone of silence and false assurance before being blasted by a tornado of shit.

  But by the end of the week, I’d started to settle. I’d relaxed back into my routine and usual bouts of snarkiness. My magic was back to its usual nonexistence, making me lose out on sales for my Spills, since I couldn’t manage enough power to make them.

  I swear I’m jinxed.

  I didn’t understand why it suddenly decided to go AWOL. Though, I did start to attribute it to Orrin’s departure. Not only was my magic on the fritz, but my bed was a lot colder now that he’d stopped coming to warm me up in it. I felt the loss of that harder than I thought I would. It’s not that I didn’t care about him. I just couldn’t be what he wanted me to. I mean, look at me! I’m a mess! I was lucky even Shakes hadn’t packed up his little candle and hitched a ride outta town.

  Apparently, I’d grown complacent too soon. By week two, things started to happen that couldn’t be explained by anything other than what had happened with the stone. At first, it was pictures falling from the walls when no one was around. Then it progressed to books jumping waywardly from the shelves and startling customers, and sometimes myself and Turk. When it escalated to objects physically being tossed across the room, I’d started to really worry.

  I knew then I’d unleashed some sort of poltergeist. I wasn’t sure what its agenda was, but I wasn’t about to let it ruin my business. I was already having a tough enough time as it was keeping us afloat. With no possible way to shut down, I decided the best course of action was to just warn people before they came in here. I figured if it didn’t deter them from entering, making a sign may even entice more to come in out of pure curiosity.

  Turk about lost it when he read the black sheet of paper with silver writing.

  Something told me the spirit didn’t get nearly as much kick out of it as we did. The sheet kept getting wrenched from the window, making me have to replace it every day with a new one.

  After dealing with such a stressful, pain in my ass spirt, I decided I needed to just have a me night to relax and not think about what the hell I was going to do if this spectral shit show didn’t end soon. Turk kindly offered to vacate the premises for the night and went to hang out with one of his new conquests at a local gay bar for the night.

  I poured myself a hot bath in my gorgeous, claw foot tub. My favorite thing in the entire building. One of the benefits of running a shop that makes amazing bath bombs, was that I got to test everything. And boy did I take advantage of that little perk. Tonight, it was the bath bomb that Turk actually convinced me to make in honor of myself. He aptly named it Toxic Bitchcraft. I laughed for a solid ten minutes at the name, and somehow, it ended up being one of my best sellers. Its shape was in a simple skull, inspired by ole Shakes himself. As it dissolved, the bath water would turn to a seductive shade of black with undertones of a deep green. It was positively witchy in my opinion. I’d given myself a huge pat on the back for the color choice. I just hoped one day I could convince someone to get baptized with one of these bad boys shoved up their shirt. I’d pay good money to see a video of that.

  I had poured myself a glass of Roscato Dark red wine, slipped into the tub, and laid back as the bomb bubbled and foamed around me, tickling my legs as it dissolved. The aroma of oranges, bergamot, nutmeg, and clove enveloped me. The digital sounds of Blaqk Audio serenaded me through my iPod dock and the dim lighting of the many candles surrounding the tub calmed and relaxed me. I could’ve stayed in the tub for hours, soaking in all the wonderful nourishment that seeped into my skin as I sipped my drink.

  After the bomb was long dissolved, I grabbed a rag and my Amethyst Soul Cleansing soap, another of my best sellers, and began scrubbing away the stress of the last two weeks. The lemongrass and sage scents were a balm to my soul as I breathed them in deep, relishing in all the minerals I shoved into this beauty. It blended well with the scents of the bath bomb and had me humming in bliss.

  I lifted my leg and started running the rag along it, singing along to Davey Havok’s intoxicating voice. Suddenly, some of my candles blew out as a soft, icy breeze fluttered my hair and raised goosebumps along my shoulders and neck. I stopped and looked around, wondering if maybe I’d left the door open a crack.

  I saw nothing though and the door was shut firmly. I dropped the soap and rag in the tub and reached over the edge of the tub to relight the candles. When they were lit, I slid back down into the hot water and went back to washing, shrugging off the weird sensation. The breeze whisked by me once again, blowing out the candles. Again.

  Son of a succubus!

  I groaned and tossed the rag and soap into the tub, now realizing this was probably yet another annoying display from our resident poltergeist. “Look!” I shouted at it. “I’ve had a really shitty few weeks, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d just leave me the fuck alone tonight. Alright?”

  Of course, nothing answered me back. At least, not at first.

  Forgoing the candles, I retrieved my soap and rag for a third time. My eyes swept the bathroom, waiting for whatever may come next. I’d just averted my eyes back to my washing, when the door to the bathroom suddenly crashed open. I jumped and screamed, losing my balance and slipping completely under the water.

  I sat up coughing water from my lungs and swiped my hair from my face, only to be met with the entity that’d been the bane of my existence the last two weeks.

  A cloud of white fog rolled through the door and settled just above me, hovering as I stared at it. I was frozen to the spot. I didn’t know what to do. Should I talk to it? Get out of the tub and make a run for it? Close my eyes and pretend this was all in my head? No. Instead, I did the only thing that seemed logical, but probably wasn’t.

  I lifted my hand from the water and slowly reached for it.

  I wasn’t ashamed to admit my hand shook a bit. I mean, I was familiar with the consequences of messing with vengeful spirits. My mother had a nasty one that lived in her closet for over a decade. But even though that one never really terrified me, somehow, this one did. So why I was reaching out to it? I didn’t know. Too much wine? Yeah. I’ll go with that.

  The moment my fingers slipped through the translucent fog, it shot backwards away from me. I jumped from the sudden movement and waited. It moved to the end of the tub towards my feet, and slowly began to form itself into a different shape.

  I watched with stunned eyes. First, it looked like legs formed, then a waist, torso, hands, arms, and finally a head. The shape was unmistakably human, but it still wasn’t defined. I was pretty sure it was male too.

  This time, I couldn’t stop my voice from belting out the first thing that popped into my head. “Please tell me you didn’t hear my singing. If that’s what brought you up here, I sincere
ly apologize. I’ve been told several times I’m atrocious at it.”

  Okay, so I rambled. In my defense though, I was fucking nervous about what it was going to do!

  Faster than my eyes could track, the shape smoothed out. Details became more defined. Jeans. Belt buckle. Large masculine hands. Button up shirt. And finally, a face. As it angled out and hair became more defined, I realized it looked like the spirits mouth was moving. Like he was talking.

  The more pronounced the face became, the more the voice began to come out. Oddly enough, he looked kind of familiar to me, but I couldn’t place how. Goosebumps flittered across my skin as I watched him, and I slowly edged a bit further back in the tub, the voice getting louder and louder and the movements of his body more animated.

  “…what the hell. I’m getting so sick of this. I just wish that someone, anyone, could just fucking hear me! Anyone at all! This chick is on her like third glass of wine and singing like she doesn’t have a care in the world!’

  For some reason, he wasn’t talking to me. Did he not know I could see him? I watched, memorizing all the details of his face, still getting absolutely nothing as to why he looked like someone I knew. He continued to ramble on and on about no one being able to hear him or see him. Nope. He has no idea I can hear him.

  His hair was short and stylish, with it swooped in one direction. It was impossible to tell what color since his entire form was just white and translucent, but I was guessing either dark brown or black since the shade was different from his skin. He had a full beard that was well kept, a nose the was slender and slightly pointed at the tip. His lips were full and eyes that were manic with aggravation. He had very broad shoulders, but his overall frame was on the lean side. He was in what looked like a modern-day t-shirt and designer jeans, so possibly was at least alive within the last five to ten years. He couldn’t have been much older than mid-to-late twenties, so around my age. But he had just the slightest point to the tips of his ears, making it obvious he was fae.