Witch for Hire (Paranormal Temp Agency Book 1)

by Molly Fitz

  Eager to put my new powers to the test once I was home, I tromped outside and stood in the yard, hoping for some violent winds I could silence… But the night remained calm, still, and highly uncooperative. I briefly considered setting up a campfire to douse with whatever decided to fly forth from my hands. Then again, who said my abilities were limited to soothing the elements? Both Parker and Fluffikins had worked some form of mind control on me, and even though I didn’t have anyone to influence with me now, I bet I could do almost anything I set my mind to.

  Let’s see…

  Fluffikins had pulled the magic out of me easily without either of us having to think much about it, but now that I was left to my own devices I didn’t really know where to start.

  I studied the brooch affixed to my top as if it would flash the answer in big bold letters. Nope, no such luck.

  I still didn’t even know what my new job as a Town Witch temp entailed. What would my responsibilities be? What kind of magic would I be able to perform? Fluffikins had offered precious little by way of explanation.

  Luckily, as an author by trade, I was already well accustomed to indulging my imagination. True, I mostly wrote contemporary romance set in the real world—you know, the world that up until today I’d assumed had no magic. Usually when I wrote my books, I dreamed up cute ways for the heroines to meet their heroes or huge romantic gestures for the heroes to use to win back the heroines after messing things up royally. And while I was really good at doing both those things, neither helped in exploring my newly granted paranormal abilities.

  Maybe if I wanted to cast a love spell or something… Wait, was that a thing I could actually do now? My breath hitched as I realized just how endless the possibilities might be.

  This, of course, made me wonder how much of the common lore surrounding witches was based on reality and how much was simply the work of overactive imaginations like mine.

  I ran through the ways I’d seen witches portrayed in the popular media.

  Black cat familiar? Check.

  Green and ugly? Heck no. I mean, at least not green and probably not ugly, either.

  Fancy spell book? Not yet.

  A flying broom? Wait a sec…

  Would I really be able to fly? And if so, would I need a broom?

  Yes, flying, was definitely going on the to-do list.

  I was half-tempted to try it now by jumping off my roof and letting those survival instincts kick in like they had with Fluffikins, but that didn’t seem like the smartest stunt to pull when I had no one around to magic up some healing or call an ambulance in case it all went wrong.

  Flying would definitely have to wait…

  But what else could witches do?

  Hmmm. Maybe I could shape shift. I mean, why not?

  Determined to find something I could do on my own, I headed to the one tiny bathroom in my rental cottage, placed both hands on the counter, and stared at myself in the mirror.

  Let’s see. Let’s see. What could I shift into?

  My eyes locked on the shower curtain with its bright pink flamingo print, the one item infused with any personality in this functional but not exactly appealing room.

  A flamingo, okay. I pictured the bird in my mind, cataloging everything I knew about them from their flamboyantly colored feathers right down to their preference for standing on just one foot at a time. Squeezing my eyes shut, I held the image in my mind and pictured myself becoming that image.

  Just. Think. Pink.

  It was a perfectly logical method, and I gave the visualization thing all I had… But still nothing happened.

  Darn it!

  I opened my eyes again, ready to tell off my reflection for her refusal to follow instructions. Instead, I let out a sharp gasp.

  I hadn’t turned into a flamingo, but my hair had changed into a bright bubblegum pink that matched the color of the birds on the shower curtain perfectly.

  Pink hair. I’d done that with magic—my magic!—and it didn’t look half bad, considering.

  Granted, I still didn’t know how I’d managed to change just my hair when I’d meant to change my whole body, but I was thrilled I had done something. Even if it was just a small something.

  I revisited my earlier list.

  Green? No.

  Ugly? Not with this cool new hairdo.

  Yes, I’d harnessed my new powers and done something magical. Not a bad start at all for this novice witch. Whatever this Town Witch thing entailed, I could do it.

  And who knew? Maybe I could tackle flying tomorrow.

  Famous last words.

  11

  The next morning, a horrible screeching sound wrested me from an already fitful sleep. I bolted upright, pushing my back against the antique headboard and sending a certain black cat tumbling from the bed.

  “What are you doing here?” I cried, clutching the comforter to my chest.

  Mr. Fluffikins hopped back onto the foot of my bed and eyed me wearily. “I already told you we’d be picking up with your training this morning.”

  “But it’s still dark outside.” I knew I was whining like a child who’d just been woken up for the first day of school after an especially satisfying Christmas break, but I didn’t care. I was too angry to worry about how I was coming across to the very person—er, cat—who had gotten me so angry to begin with. “Plus you said nothing about breaking into my house. That is not okay.”

  He squinted his eyes and growled, then straightened back up, proud and tall, showing off that little white patch on his chest. “I didn’t break in. I simply used magic to gain entry,” he explained in a languid drawl. “And it’s six in the morning, a perfectly good time to wake up and share some breakfast with your new mentor.”

  I stared at Mr. Fluffikins, mouth agape. Not only had he shown up inside my bedroom at this unseemly hour, but now he expected me to make breakfast, too? Well, I hope he liked cold cereal, because that’s all he was getting.

  “Wait for me downstairs,” I commanded, but Fluffikins did not budge. “I mean it. I’m not wearing any pants and need some time to make myself decent.”

  “You didn’t seem too concerned about appearing decent last night,” he bit out.

  Oh, no. I was not about to be slut-shamed by a talking cat. “Get out of here!” I screamed and threw my pillow at him.

  At least this time he listened. “The others will be here soon, so please do make haste,” he informed me on his way out.

  “Oh, I’ll make something, all right,” I muttered under my breath as I hurried to pull on the first pants I found.

  When I emerged from my room, I was wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top. I refused to make myself any less comfortable when Fluffikins would likely disapprove of whatever I wore anyway.

  He sat waiting at my kitchen table—or rather, on it. He’d been joined by a stern-looking woman I recognized from the boardroom yesterday, although she hadn’t spoken much then and didn’t make very much of an impression now.

  “Tawny,” Fluffikins rasped. “This is Greta. She’ll be helping with your orientation today.”

  “Hi, Greta,” I said as I passed them both and made my way to the fridge. I didn’t keep much food on hand, but I had an entire shelf full of my favorite cold brew coffees. I grabbed one, twisted off the cap, and took a long, life-giving gulp. Definitely the best part of my morning, especially since my shower was still on the fritz.

  When I lowered the glass bottle, I found both of my uninvited guests staring openly at me.

  “Greta is our school liaison for the region,” the cat said. “She looks after our interests as far as public education is concerned, much like how Barnes watches the police force.”

  I nodded. “Got it.”

  Hmmm, why did Greta get to go by her first name while Fluffikins always called Parker by his last?

  Instead of answering my unspoken question, my new boss said, “As I’m sure you’ve already determined for yourself, she’s the perfect person to begin your mag
ical education.”

  Greta drummed her fingers on the tabletop and offered me a smile. “Shall we begin?”

  “First, breakfast,” Fluffikins corrected, then actually had the audacity to lick his chops. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to grab any for myself before coming here.”

  You could have come later, I thought. Much later.

  “Breakfast, fine. What do magical cats like to eat?”

  Fluffikins and Greta exchanged an amused glance.

  “All cats are magical,” she told me with a chuckle. “It’s only people that aren’t.”

  I ignored the implication that I should have already known the ins and outs of their strange secret world and got right back to the point. “So, what? You want some canned tuna or something?”

  “Hey! That stereotype is offensive,” the black cat hissed. “I’d much more prefer a fine cut of steak.”

  “I don’t have any steak.” And even if I did, I wouldn’t be up to preparing it for a bossy cat first thing in the morning, especially since I only ever bought enough for one—me. “I don’t even think I have tuna, come to mention it. How about a bowl of milk?”

  He sighed and laid down on his side, shedding his fine black hairs all over my formerly clean kitchen table. “I suppose it will have to do, although I’ll have you know, I’m lactose intolerant. Then again, I do deserve a bit of a treat with—” he looked me up and down “—all the stress I’ve been under lately. Next time, however, I expect you to be better prepared.”

  Apparently Fluffikins had never heard the whole thing about beggars and how they can’t also be choosers. He was super lucky this was a job I couldn’t quit and that the magic was enough of a draw to get me to swallow my pride and pour the last of my skim milk into a bowl for him.

  I took my morning cereal dry.

  What a way to start to the day!

  12

  After a very quick yet somehow also very uncomfortable breakfast, Fluffikins excused himself, leaving me and Greta to ourselves.

  “So you want to learn how to be a Town Witch?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow made of such light hair that it almost looked translucent. Something was off about Greta, but I couldn’t figure out what.

  Realizing I had started to stare, I forced my gaze toward the floor. “Not that I want to, per se, more like I’ve been instructed to.”

  She laughed at this, and it sounded like the tinkling of bells. “Ah, the good old PTA. Nobody applies and yet everyone gets a job.”

  My stomach churned at the acronym. I’d been burned by the PTA before, and even though these three letters represented an entirely different organization this time, a fresh wave of outrage still washed over me.

  Greta studied me in such a way that made me wonder if her powers came with the ability to read minds. I was just about to ask when she cleared her throat and said, “Let’s start at the beginning. Shall we? Do you know what a Town Witch does?”

  I shook my head. “All I know is that the magic is tied to the town, and that Lila Haberdash had the job until somebody snuck into her house and killed her.”

  Greta cringed. Her pale skin turned pink, making her whitish-blonde hair even more pronounced. “Yes, both those things are true.”

  “Wait. Has it officially been ruled a murder now?” I’d been so caught up in the magic stuff that I’d done a poor job following up on the investigative side of the situation.

  “Oh, yes, but we knew that right away,” she answered with a flippant wave. “Magic inevitably comes to an abrupt and violent end. Always.”

  My stomach catapulted at that, threatening to spew the delicious coffee I’d only just entrusted to it. “How?”

  Greta cocked her head to the side. “How what? How did she die? Magic, obviously.”

  “Oh.” Well, that was clear as mud. I still didn’t know an awful lot about magic, but if Fluffikins was looking for evidence that I hadn’t done the deed, then the means should definitely be proof enough of my innocence.

  “Try not to worry about it, dear,” Greta said with a pinched expression as she grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Lila lived a good life while she still had it. For now, it’s your turn to take up the Beech Grove Witch mantle, and soon it will be someone else’s.”

  “The killer’s, you mean?”

  She sighed and let go of my hand. “That’s often how these things work, yes.”

  I had at least a million questions but sensed her patience with me was already wearing thin. “Okay, so what do I need to know in order to do this job?”

  And to not get killed, while I’m at it.

  Greta gave me the first genuine grin I’d seen since meeting her. It brightened her whole face, which, when combined with her pale blond hair, gave her an almost angelic appearance.

  “Let me escort you to your new office, and I’ll explain some things along the way.” She crossed my living room like she owned the place and held the door open so I could exit in front of her.

  Even before we stepped foot off the porch, I knew we were headed to Mrs. Haberdash’s main residence. My new office was the crime scene. Wonderful.

  “The Town Witch,” Greta explained as she fell into step beside me with a smooth, even stride, “acts as a conduit for the magic that occurs naturally within the land this town was built upon. So she has her own magic but can also pull from the stores of magic that belong to the town.”

  I bobbed my head as if this all made perfect sense. In theory, it did. But in practice? Well, that was another matter entirely.

  “Why would she need to use the land’s magic?” I asked.

  “To protect the town and all its residents. As you can probably guess, it’s a very important job.” She quickened her pace, and I had to jog to keep up. Was this to prevent me from asking any more questions? Because it only gave me more—like why would she need to be evasive with me?

  Instead I asked, “So if this is such an important job, why would you choose to entrust it to me? I didn’t even know magic existed until less than twenty-four hours ago.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t my choice, dear.” She snorted in a rather unladylike way that clashed with the grace with which she carried herself. “It wasn’t anyone’s choice. You simply happened to be at the right place at the right time.”

  “Or the wrong one,” I couldn’t help muttering aloud.

  She stopped and turned back to study me again, as if searching for something she’d tried and failed to find before.

  “You won’t have to do much,” Greta reasoned after a couple uncomfortable moments of silence. “In fact, you won’t be able to.”

  “Because the killer already got away with all of the town’s magic,” I filled in.

  “Yes, but he or she will be back. And soon.”

  Finally I caught up with her and asked, “Why’s that?”

  She let out a shaky breath. “Because if the magic is kept away from its source for too long, it will die—and its vessel will die right along with it.”

  I shivered in the cool morning air. Well, at least the stakes weren’t high or anything…

  13

  Greta and I finished our trek to Mrs. Haberdash’s main house without saying anything else. Suddenly the desire to understand this new world of magic paled in comparison to the knowledge that the killer would be returning to the scene of the crime and I’d be right there waiting.

  The house sat dark and empty, as if a part of it had died along with its owner.

  “I’m glad it’s just us this time,” I said, remembering the strange run-in I’d had with the young woman yesterday. I glanced toward the tall aged tree where her floppy sunhat had gotten stuck and was surprised to find it gone.

  The girl had most definitely left without it, which meant she’d also come back. Probably in the dead of night.

  “What do you mean? Who else were you expecting to find?” Greta asked, watching me closely. Always watching.

  “Oh, I just meant Parker,” I said, preferring to keep at lea
st some of my cards close to the chest.

  Greta shook her head. “He’s already got more than enough to handle in his role as liaison to the force. Notice how there isn’t any crime scene tape around? Lila was one of ours. Getting the normie police involved would only slow down the inevitable.”

  “The return of the killer, you mean?”

  Greta’s expression blanked. “What? Oh, yes. Of course, that’s what I meant.”

  Uh-huh. I was starting to realize I couldn’t even trust Greta as far as I could throw her, which wasn’t far at all, given my disdain for regular exercise. Still, she was who I had right now. I’d learn whatever I could from her and then check back with Parker—or, heck, even Fluffikins—for confirmation later.

  Greta smiled over at me, but I could tell it wasn’t genuine. “There’s no time like the present. Let’s get down to business.” She swept her hand in an upward flourish and the front door creaked open.

  The first thing I noticed was that Mrs. Haberdash’s body had been cleared away. The grand entryway sat empty, but something in the air shimmered almost like a mirage. It was as if the house itself were waiting for something. Was that something me?

  I stepped inside and felt its energy envelop me like a warm bath. Granted, I much preferred hot showers, but this new sensation relaxed me all the same. In fact, it almost felt as if I were floating. That was silly, of course, given that I was standing firmly on the hardwood floor. Nothing looked different. It’s just that I felt different.

  Greta walked a slow circle around me, muttering to herself. Her whispered words were too quiet for me to make out, not until she stopped in front of me and grabbed onto both of my wrists, holding them at the pulse points. “It’s calling to you. Isn’t it?”

  I nodded. What was the point in arguing?

  “Then the first part was much easier than we expected it to be. The town has already accepted you as a host for its magic.”

  “But this is supposed to be temporary,” I argued, unable to tear my eyes away from her intent, blistering gaze.