Witch for Hire

by Shyla Colt

  “Sean and his team will scout the area and give the all clear for us to leave the car. Percival, Marcellus, I’ll take no chance with Louella.”

  “I can take care of myself, you know,” I mumble.

  “We don’t even know what we’re up against, and you’ve been out of the loop,” he replies. The casual statement burns me.

  Chastised, I bite my tongue. Arguing would only be a distraction, and we need to be alert. I take the time to view the area from a magical point of view. Rapidly dissipating streams of flickering purple are concentrated in one area.

  “Whoa. I can see where it happened. It’s lit up with magic.”

  Cristobal reaches out and touches me. The pathway between us opens. “I see it, too.”

  I shudder. It’s unnatural him using my powers as his own. It makes me fear what I’ll gain from him.

  “It’s been secured,” Cristobal states.

  I rush from the car, grateful for the fresh air, and the buffer Percival and Marcellus present. We make our way to the tall tree, and I wince. Its crying tears at my soul. The negativity energy left behind by the attack is doing its damndest to stain this peaceful place. The blood spilled in anger has soaked into the ground, harming the tree.

  The evil travels down toward the roots, seeking a place to latch on and linger permanently. Kneeling, I touch the base of the bark, picturing cleansing white energy. The white light banishes the darkness as I clear the space and cast it out. The wave I’ve sent from the tree and its family linked to it through the root system is overwhelming. Most know trees are alive, but don’t know they’re actually alive.

  “The witch was careful to cloak their identity. They came with the youngling and stood by while he committed the murder. The residue we’re seeing is almost certainly from a cloaking or glamour spell, possibly a combination of both. It’s why no one saw it happen or the perpetrator leave.”

  “What did they look like?” Cristobal asks.

  I shake my head. “Trees don’t see the way we do. I’d imagine whoever it is must be attractive and charming to ensnare their victims.”

  “This stinks of plotting,” Marcellus growls.

  I thank the tree, and lean back, hands on my thighs.

  “Can you get anything else?” Percival asks.

  “No. They’re cautious, and I can’t track them without something that belongs to them, or they’ve at least touched. At this point, I’m not sure if the youngling is in control of himself.”

  “Obviously,” Marcellus says.

  “They might be a puppet for their master or the witch.”

  “What could a witch gain from this? It’s no secret our kind steer clear of one another. You worship nature, and we by definition are unnatural, dead yet not,” Percival says.

  “Which is what worries me,” I admit. “No decent witch would be involved in this. A witch desperate enough for power to turn to Black Magic might do it for the right price or promise. If that’s the case, we’re in trouble.”

  Cristobal places his hands behind his back. “It’s time we turn our attention to the other Courts and start building a suspect list.”

  “I’ll start one tonight with Miles,” Percival says. “Can you look into this on your side of things, Lou?”

  “Oh, are we asking for witchy favors?” I ask, staring at Marcellus. “Imagine that.”

  He narrows his gaze, and I smirk. “I’ll be happy to help out, Perci. If I hear any whispers, I’ll let you know.”

  “It’s good to have a witch on our side, isn’t it?” Percival pats Marcellus on the shoulder, and I wink. I’m going to enjoy taking the piss out of him at every turn.

  What’s life without its little pleasures?

  ***

  I’ve never worked a longer day in my life. If Tante Odette thinks suddenly showing up and being counted is going to earn her brownie points with Mémé, she’s wrong. I’ve felt her eyes on me all day as we work in virtual silence. The bell ringing above the door is a relief. I step forward to greet the young twenty-something girl with dark circles under her eyes and unkempt black hair. Her face is gaunt and drawn, and her aura is thin. As if it lacks the usual substance. I frown. Something is literally sucking the life out of this girl.

  I step forward. “Can I help you?”

  Her large blue eyes dart around the room. “Umm, I think so. I … uh … I heard this was the place to come if you have certain problems you need to be dealt with.” She toys with the belled sleeves of her black button-up dress. Her sparkly black nail polish is chipped, and her nails have been chewed down to nothing.

  “You heard wrong.”

  I turn back toward Tante Odette, appalled by her swift dismissal.

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” I snap. This girl needs help. I can all but smell the fear surrounding her. There’s a darkness lurking inside of her. She must be battling every second to be here.

  “Come, let me get you some tea and take you to the backroom to talk.”

  She shifts from one combat-booted foot to the other. “Backroom?”

  “A private, safe place to talk. You look cold. How about some tea?” I walk her over to the small table and steep a cup of our homemade herbal tea. Made with Lavender, Lemon Balm, Lemon Verbena, and Stevia leaves from a strawberry to clear the mind, calm the nerves, and dispel negativity and sweeten the brew.

  “I don’t know.” Glancing back at the door, she worries her bottom lip, and I notice her hands have a slight tremor.

  “What’s your name?” I ask her, being sure to infuse warmth into my voice.

  “J-Jenny.” Her voice is barely above a whisper

  “Jenny. If you walk out that door right now, I’m not convinced you’ll be able to walk back in again.” I hand her the cheerful yellow and teal mug with owls on it filled with the soothing tea. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  She glances up at me. Awareness flickers in her eyes. I wrap her hand around the now-warm ceramic mug.

  “Take a few sips, and breathe.”

  Her hands tremble as she blows on the amber liquid before bringing it to her lips. I watch as the liquid works it magic, and clarity appears in her gaze. The tremors subside, and she steadies.

  “What’s in this?” she whispers.

  I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. “Family secret. Are you feeling a better?”

  “For the first time in months, yes.”

  “Are you ready to talk to me about what’s going on?”

  She glances at the space behind me toward Tante Odette.

  “Don’t worry about her. I’m Lou.”

  “Hi, Lou.”

  I smile. “Come on, let’s talk in the backroom, it’ll be much better in there,” I say, thinking of the heavily warded room. I place my hand on the small of her back and wince. The sensation of bugs crawling over my skin strikes. My stomach turns. I raise a wall of protection around me, shutting down the attempts to penetrate my mind. This girl has fallen into the pit with a dark and nasty entity.

  I guide her into the back and pull back a black velvet curtain. Natural light spills through the window. The walls are painted a haint blue that brightens up the small area and helps keep evil at bay. The soft blue-green color was traditionally used to ward off evil spirts. Shelves full of Mason jars full of ingredients, books, and crystals line the far wall. In the center of the room, we have a large trunk table. On either side, we have two charcoal gray velvet loveseats and a matching chair.

  “Sit wherever you’re most comfortable.” I sink down into the chair.

  She gingerly sits on the edge of the loveseat across from me.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She stares down at the concrete floor.

  “I’m not here to judge, just to help, Jenny.”

  “It was supposed to be a
game. Something fun and creepy to break the ice at the housewarming party. It was my first time living away from home, and we’d invited the cute boys who lived across the hall over. Playing a spooky game seemed like the ideal thing to do. You know?”

  I did. So many people think the spirit board is harmless. They couldn’t be more mistaken. It’s a gateway. A dangerous tool for even the most experienced. You never know what’s going to come through and make contact. If you’re not well-versed, it remains open. Once you peer out into the darkness long enough, it looks back.

  “The four of us played for a while, and nothing happened. Not really. The boys tried to scare us, moving the planchette to answers, but it was obvious. When we got tired of it, we hung out and watched movies, and tried again. They left, and we didn’t think anything about it.”

  Placing my elbows on my jean-clad legs, I leaned forward. “Then something happened?”

  Jenny nods. “We started to hear noises in the house. Bumps, knocks, and whispers. I thought it was an overactive imagination. We live in an older building, and I’m used to a dorm setting with other girls around. We told our neighbors, and they insisted we use the Ouija board again. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I didn’t want to come across like a big baby. So I went along with it. It started off just like before.” She tucks the hair behind her ear. “Only, the planchette started to move on its own. We blamed each other at first.”

  “Until?”

  She clears her throat. “It started to move in circles.”

  It was trying to open a portal and come through.

  “We asked if anyone was there, and it said yes.” She glanced at me. “We thought it was a parlor trick.” Her voice cracks, and she begins to sob. “God, it wasn’t, Lou. The board went silent. We were so stupid. I remember being excited. We’d made some sort of contact, and we wanted more. It became a tradition. At least once a week, we’d get together and do the board, recording our results. There were spirits who came and went, but never the same ones twice, and nothing serious ever happened.” I can hear her trying to justify what she’d done to herself. Her breathing quickens, and her pupils dilate.

  “Then it did?”

  “Yes.” Her voice shakes.

  “What happened?”

  “We made contact with a spirit who insisted he was a guardian angel trying to keep us safe. It warned us that a dangerous spirit was near. We ignored it, knowing they were trying to get us to stay on the board longer. We should’ve listened. Next, he came.”

  “Who?”

  “Seth. He kicked the others off repeatedly. He knew more than any of the other spirits. He spelled out family names and told us things about our lives. It was exhilarating, and scary, exactly what we were looking for when we started playing with the board. He was funny. He cracked jokes and told us helpful things about the future. We didn’t realize he dominated the board. After we made our first contact with him, he never allowed anyone else on. Then Seth started to single me out. He always wanted to talk to me, and if I wasn’t there, he didn’t want to interact. He started to say I was his. It freaked us all out, so we stopped playing.”

  “It wasn’t enough, was it?” I ask gently.

  “No.” She sniffs and tucks a strand of stringy hair behind her ear. “Things started to happen in the house. Knocks, whispers, and lights flickering. I started to have nightmares about black shadowy figures.” She rubs a hand over her face. “We knew it was connected to the board. But we weren’t sure what to do. We did some research, and we decided to burn it.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. It was a mistake. The minute it went up and rainbow-colored flames shot out, we all knew it. Everything escalated after that. Knocks turned to booms. Whispers grew louder, and then the footsteps started outside of my room. I woke to see dark figures hovering, and the nightmares intensified. They’re so real now. They’re more like night terrors than anything.” She shivers.

  “What about your friends? Do they help?”

  “They’re the ones who found out about you.”

  “I won’t lie to you, Jenny. You’re in a bad way. I can help you if you’re willing to follow my directions and fight. This entity wants you to think you’re weak, but you’re not. Look at how long you’ve been fighting him. They try to isolate, wear you down, and drain your energy. He’s a parasite.”

  “You can see him?”

  “I can see the attachment. It’s got a strong foothold. I need to cleanse you and your home, and shut the portal you opened. I think there’s an access point in your home now after all the Ouija usage and the burning of the board. You ended your way of closing the gate when you did that, and let this spirit free.”

  “What happens next?”

  “I get everything together, and we act. Now.” Because you don’t have any time to spare.

  She hesitates.

  “Remember what I said to you earlier, Jenny? When you first came in about what would happen if you left. The spirit’s hold on you is strong. This is your last chance before it takes total control. Once that happens, it’s a hell of a lot harder to separate the two of you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Why anyone? You had a moment of weakness. You were going through a tough time. Your guard was down. These things have nothing to do but wait for the right opportunities to strike. Once I complete this, you can’t look back. No dabbling in the paranormal in any way, or you’ll end up right back here. You understand?”

  She nods her head. Convinced of her sincerity, I stand and walk over to the shelves, gathering what I need. I pull my phone from my back pocket and dial Sacha.

  “Hey, Lou. Aren’t you at work?”

  “I need you right now. We have a nine-one-one situation at the shop.”

  “Shit. What’s happening? Did you kill Tante?”

  I snicker. “You wish. I came upon an attachment, a bad one to an inhuman spirit.”

  “Shit.”

  “I’m preparing now.”

  “I’m on my way, Lou. Do not start without backup.”

  “Hurry.” I turn back to the girl.

  “Drink more of the tea,” I say, not liking the blank look creeping across her face. The battle for her soul is very real and in progress. Grabbing the large chunks of Staurolite and a spool of silver wire, I make a crude necklace and bracelet set. I walk over to the loveseat.

  “I want you to wear these for me for now, Jenny.”

  “Okay?” Her brow furrows and she shakes her head. “I don’t know. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  Seth’s winning. I slip the bracelet around her wrist, and she jerks, blinking.

  “Lou?”

  “Hang on. This will help.” I add the necklace, and rush back to the shelves, grabbing a bundle of white sage. I light it with a thought and begin to smudge the room. “St Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray. And do you, O prince of the heavenly host by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.” I envision white light as I continue around the room. Magic, especially protective spells, are dependent upon the belief of the user. My God may not look or behave like anyone else’s, but he’s real to me, so his power works for me.

  “Lou?”

  “I’m here.”

  The curtain opens, and she steps in, closing it.

  “Whoa.”

  I peer over my shoulder and find Jenny studying me with a nearly black gaze.

  “Sach, get her cup it should have the salvia we need in it.” I select a pretty blue round jar, fill it halfway with rusty nails, salt, a stick of cinnamon, Spanish moss, blackberry leaves, and rum. I set the Mason jar onto a circular mirror, and begin to decorate it with pretty crystals and shells. Spirits are vain, attracted to shiny o
bjects, and certain scents and the promise of power. I infuse power into every other stone, leading into the jar, and place one inside.

  “Here.” Sacha returns with the mug.

  “Thank you.” I pour the spit in and draw symbols with white chalk on the table to entice the evil entity to come out of Jenny.

  I set the chalk down, place some sweet tobacco in a pipe, and light it. “Sing with me.” I begin an old song, blowing smoke into the air as I study Jenny. Her head tilts up, and I know we’ve piqued Seth’s interest. He can feel the power in the air. I continue to sing and blow smoke. Sacha’s voice raises in harmony beside me. Jenny’s body twitches. Come on, you bastard. I come closer, blowing the smoke toward her as I slowly back toward the table.

  Jenny’s back arches. She levitates off the chair. I raise my voice, sending tendrils of power out. I see the darkness shoot out of her body. I blow smoke directly into the jar. It follows the stone path, draining the gems of the magic. Unable to resist the mother lode, it goes into the bottle. I light the alcohol inside with a thought. A shrill cry fills the air as I shove the stopper inside. I grab a black candle, heating it with my mind as I seal the bottle shut. He’s trapped. Bound by the iron, snared and hooked by the salt, Spanish moss, and blackberry leaves. I release a shaky breath, slightly drained.

  “Jenny?”

  “Lou?” Her eyes have returned to normal, and while she looks exhausted, her aura is already slowly beginning to regenerate.

  “We have more work to do. You’re doing really good. I want you to hang in there with me and Sacha, okay? She’s here to help me make you well again.”

  “O-okay.” Jenny wraps her arms around her waist. Despite the banishment of the spirit, the darkness is still working on her. We need to purge it.

  “Sacha, fill the tub out back. I’ll gather the herbs. I want to get her into a cleansing bath before she goes anywhere else.”

  “I’m on it. Here, let me take some sea salt and lavender, to help keep her calm.”