Broom with a View

by Gayla Twist

  “May I offer you a light gazpacho soup?” the waiter asked, magically appearing at Vera’s elbow.

  Vera was startled and slightly indignant. It was true that she had just been thinking that a chilled soup would be refreshing, but it somehow felt impertinent that the waiter should just bring a bowl over to the table.

  “She’ll take it.” Miss Hopkins spoke up for her.

  “And for you, the watercress sandwich,” the waiter said, presenting the food with a flourish.

  “Delightful,” Hippolyta said with a contented smile.

  The soup was delicious; Vera had to admit. But such wonderful food at no cost made her suspicious. She knew from a couple hundred years of experience that there was no such thing as a free lunch. She began to observe the comings and goings of the banquet hall more closely, convinced something was not right.

  It took only a few moments of quiet examination for Vera to see that there was something odd about a small group of young men flitting around their table. They were not obtrusive in any way, beyond being remarkably handsome, and it was not uncommon for young men to gather where pretty girls were to be found. But there was something more to these young gentlemen, and Vera began to wonder what they were about. The three of them were impeccably dressed and had the deportment of cats rather than the swagger of young men. They were slim and pale, but their eyes were not those of the Mortals who chose to dwell in a world without sunlight; there was something more knowing, more cunning in each man’s visage.

  “Who are those young fellows?” Vera asked her friend in a whisper. “The ones lurking about.”

  “Wait and see,” was Hippolyta’s mysterious reply.

  Shortly thereafter, one of the young men approached a girl at their table. She was easily the youngest and most beautiful of the sisters; a perfect bloom in a garden full of pretty flowers. She looked up, fright plainly written on her face. She turned away from the young man and silently sought help with pleading eyes from her mother at the far end of the table. But that handsome woman showed no compassion or aid; she simply nodded as if reminding the girl of her duty.

  The young man held out his hand and the girl took it, reluctantly getting to her feet. She could not meet his eyes, so he put a finger under her trembling chin and lifted it so he could gaze directly into her face. They locked eyes, hers full of terror, his intense and filled with the desire for possession. Then the girl suddenly relaxed; her shoulders rounding a little as the rigidness in her posture disappeared. She stopped trembling and became sanguine in her demeanor as the young man led her away from her family and out a small door discretely tucked in a far corner of the room.

  “Where is he taking her?” Vera hissed across the table, alarmed for the girl’s safety.

  “Oh, he won’t hurt her,” Hippolyta said. “Not really. She’ll just be a bit tired for a few days. I hope she had some red meat with her lunch.”

  Miss Tartlette shook her head rapidly back and forth. “You don’t mean,” she stammered. “He can’t…” She rose in her chair slightly as if part of her wanted to chase after them and separate the pretty child from the villainous young man. “She’s just… And he’s…” Sinking back down into her chair, she took in a sharp breath. “I don’t understand,” she finally said.

  “There are many Mortals that live in Night Town solely off the Vampires’ beneficence,” Miss Hopkins explained. “All of their needs are taken care of. They needn’t work at all, but in exchange…” She nodded in the direction that the couple had departed. “They must provide the one thing that a Vampire craves from a Mortal.” Hippolyta spread her hands, indicating the bounty of food being served at each table. “It’s not a bad life if you can tolerate the occasional bite.”

  “That poor girl,” Vera exclaimed, her hand at her throat. “Someone should tell her mother what is happening. She can stop him if she acts now, before it’s too late.”

  “Don’t be so naive, Vera,” Miss Hopkins scolded. “Her mother knows perfectly well what is going on. Why do you think she’s had so many pretty daughters?”

  Miss Tartlette could not hide her shocked expression as she stared down the table at the mother, who didn’t seem at all disturbed by the fact that a Vampire had just gone off with her youngest girl to the Goddess knows where.

  An alarming thought occurred to Vera. “And are we going to be expected to pay for our meal in the same manner?” she wanted to know, her hands starting to tremble slightly.

  A devious laugh escaped Hippolyta’s lips. “It’s very unlikely,” she assured her friend. “Why do you think I chose this table? I knew with so many pretty girls about, the Vampires weren’t likely to notice two old Crones having a few sandwiches.”

  “Oh,” Vera said, a little stunned. She tried to take a sip of tea, but couldn’t stop her cup from rattling against the saucer. The waiter appeared from nowhere bearing a small aperitif glass. “Your sherry, Madame,” he said, placing the liquor in front of her and then vanishing among the tables. Miss Tartlette was about to call after him, “But I didn’t order any cherie,” then remembered herself and, instead, took a grateful gulp.

  It took a bit of persuading from Hippolyta, but Vera was eventually coaxed into having a bit of cake and some more tea. It felt very strange as they were preparing to go, not to have to settle up on any kind of bill. Vera almost felt like a thief sneaking out on a check from a fine restaurant.

  As they were heading for the door, Miss Tartlette saw the family of beautiful daughters again. The youngest was back with them, but she looked impossibly pale, with a splash of red on her collar, and she was unable to stand without the support of her sisters. “Will she be all right?” Vera had to wonder, feeling frightened for the child.

  “I’m sure a day or two of rest and she’ll be right as rain,” Miss Hopkins assured her. “Now, come along. There’s so much more I want to show you.”

  Miss Tartlette followed blindly after her friend but felt a terrible chill as if her bones had turned to ice. Even though they had dined without personal sacrifice, she knew there was a good lesson to be remembered: someone always has to pay the check.

  Chapter 5: Charming Charms for Every Occasion

  The day was getting on, and Violet knew she should probably head back to the Pensione Belladonna before Aunt Vera’s return. She intended to tell her aunt that she had gone for a brief stroll, but didn’t want to press her luck. Still, there were so many interesting things to look at as she walked along. There were still no Crafter shops in England that were completely open about selling magical items. They existed, of course, but you had to know where to go, and once there, you had to know the right thing to say before you gained admission to a small, dimly lit back room displaying a sparse selection of Crafter wares. In X, practically every third shop had a sign in the window offering fantastical transformation herbs or the latest charm-repelling amulets. Examining her lady’s pocket watch, Violet decided she could risk just a few more minutes to stick her nose in a shop called Lady Matilda’s Charming Charms for Every Occasion.

  A chorus of little silver bells tinkled merrily as Violet entered the dimly lit shop. Once Violet’s eyes had adjusted, she realized she wasn’t standing in a shop so much as an overstuffed broom closet. It was a tiny space, but what it lacked in width and depth, it made up in height. The ceiling skyrocketed towards the stars. Violet assumed it must have been some type of spell because the building she’d entered appeared to be only one story. But on the inside, towering shelves crammed with merchandise filled every conceivable inch of space, leaving only narrow passageways for patrons to navigate through the interior.

  “Hello,” came a very chipper voice from somewhere over Violet’s left shoulder. For fear of knocking something over if she moved too quickly, the girl turned slowly to face whoever had just greeted her. A kindly looking, squat little Witch peeped at her from behind a glass counter.

  “Oh, hello,” Violet replied. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Is there any
thing in particular you’re looking for?” the shop Witch asked.

  “Not in particular, no,” Violet replied. “You see, we arrived only yesterday, so I’m still sort of looking around.”

  “Well then, welcome,” the squat Witch said, stepping out from behind the counter. She was practically as wide as she was tall, with a large volume of gray hair piled high on her head giving her the illusion of four extra inches. “We have everything here. Positively everything. Just ask and I’m sure I can find whatever you need.”

  “Thank you,” Violet replied, more wishing the little Witch would give her a bit of breathing room to browse.

  “Seeing that you’re new, maybe you’d like an orientation charm, so you always know you’re heading in the right direction.”

  Before the girl had a chance to reply, the shopkeeper mumbled a few words and twitched her left eyebrow. The next thing Violet knew, the floor seemed to rise under them at an alarming rate, and they were skyrocketed halfway up the side of the wall to reach a whole new set of shelves. Caught completely unaware, Violet almost lost her footing. This must have happened quite a bit to new customers in the shop because the squat Witch reached out with a steady hand and righted her. “So.” She beamed up at Violet. “An orientation charm?”

  With dozens of such charms laid out before her, Violet was briefly tempted but ended up saying, “I think that would take too much of the adventure out of my first trip to X. Don’t you?”

  “You’re probably right,” the older Witch agreed. “How about a wrinkle inhibitor?” She waggled her eyebrow again, and the floor fell away, dropping them several feet. “Your clothes will always look smart and fresh, even after a lengthy train ride.”

  “I don’t think so, thanks,” Violet mumbled, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and pressing it to her lips, suddenly feeling a tad queasy.

  “Have you got a sweetheart?” the Witch asked.

  Violet was taken aback by the nature of the question. She wasn’t used to shop clerks immediately prying into her personal affairs, not to mention floors rising and falling beneath her feet without warning. “No,” she admitted, feeling a little bit flustered and quite a bit sick.

  “What?” The older Witch was shocked. “A pretty girl like you? I don’t know what is wrong with the young gentlemen these days.” Then, she added, “I know exactly what you need.” This statement was accompanied by a severe arch of the eyebrow, and the next thing Violet knew, they were rushing full tilt towards the ceiling. This time, Violet knew how to brace herself for when the floor came to an abrupt halt, and she managed to keep her footing without too much wobble. “I keep all the love charms up here,” the Witch announced.

  Violet began to get the feeling that if she didn’t commit to buying something, the little Witch would keep her rising and plunging to the different shelves of her shop for the rest of the afternoon. “I’ll take it,” she stammered.

  “Which one?” The little Witch’s eyes were bright.

  Violet had no idea. There were just so many choices: blue sachets, purples poultices, mustard-coloured packets of the Goddess knows what. “Oh.” Her hand hesitated over the selection. “Is there one that’s quite simple to use?” she asked. The girl actually had no intention of taking advantage of a love charm at any time in the near future, but she guessed it didn’t hurt to have one at her disposal if the need should ever arise.

  The shop Witch gave her an appraising glance. “I have just the thing.” Her hand flitted over the numerous vials and packets. “Here we are.” She plucked a small sachet tied with a pale orange ribbon from the crowded shelf. To Violet’s untrained eye, it looked more like a bit of cheese cloth wrapped around some potpourri to air out the linen closet. “This is just what you need.” The Witch pressed the small bundle into the girl’s hands.

  “How does it work?” Violet asked, giving the bundle a slight sniff. It smelled of dried orange peels.

  “It’s quite simple. You activate it with a few drops of blood then just slip it into the pocket of your heart’s desire or possibly leave it in his shoe. Anywhere in his wardrobe will do, but the connection won’t be as strong.”

  Violet wasn’t at all sure about the practicality of pricking a man with a needle in the hopes of making him fall in love. “But how am I to get his blood?” she asked.

  “Oh,” the little Witch said with a chuckle. “I never specified it had to be his blood. That would make things more complicated to be sure. Rest assured that any blood will do. And it really only takes a few drops. In fact, you should apply the blood sparingly, if you don’t want the charm to be too strong. There’s a fine line between devotion and obsession.”

  Violet paid for her purchase on the ground floor and was happy to escape the shop. She would have to be careful, she cautioned herself; if all the merchants in X were so aggressive, her trunks would be filled with useless charms and talismans. Stopping at a newsstand, she purchased some stamps and selected a few picture postcards. Noting the time, she thought she’d better hurry back to the pensione. Vera was sure to be back at any moment.

  With all the sights, sounds, and smells of X swirling around her, Violet found it nearly impossible to rush. Her footsteps lagged as she crossed the main square, her eyes practically spinning like pinwheels in her head, trying to take in every fresh experience. She’d known X was a place of magic, but she hadn’t expected it to be practically in the air she breathed.

  The square was crowded with locals and tourists alike. Violet found that she had to watch her step or she would bump into someone accidentally. A group of Crafters that seemed to be in rather a hurry rushed past her. She caught a snatch of their conversation. “It’s just so unheard of. Nothing like this ever happens in X. If you ask me, it’s all the refugees making the trouble.”

  “What trouble?” Violet wondered aloud. Didn’t magical folk come to X to avoid trouble?

  The voices in the square grew louder. There was obviously some kind of argument that was spreading through the crowd. Violet thought she’d just better quicken her pace and get back to the Pensione Belladonna as fast as she might.

  The square went from a loud crush of voices to absolute silence. There was a brief moment when everyone appeared to be frozen in their fury. Then a flock of pigeons took wing, madly flapping at the air. That’s when a ball of blue fire shot across the square, hitting a man in a green velvet cape directly in the chest. There were several screams as the man collapsed.

  The world started spinning very fast. Everyone was running and shouting. The Warlock, who had shot the flame, was snatched off his feet by a large Vampire and torn in half right before Violet’s eyes. Blood sprayed across the square, and the Vampire buried his mouth in the gaping wound. Repelling charms were directed at several Vampires. Another Witch was cut down only three or four yards away from where the girl stood. She tried to run, but each time Violet turned her feet in a direction that appeared to be a clear path to safety, her way was immediately blocked by the battle. Horrible shrieks of pain and death cries filled her ears.

  A powerful Witch climbed upon the fountain and began directing sun rays with full concentration at anyone baring fangs. Members of the undead to receive one of these blasts were instantly incinerated. The sky grew thick with ash, and Violet had to cover her mouth with her handkerchief to keep from choking.

  The cobblestones of the beautiful square were covered in gore. Ash settled on the ground, mixing with the blood to make a copper-colored muck. Small rivulets of red trickled along the crevices of the stonework as if following miniature viaducts. Violet backed away from one small stream of blood, only to find her way barred by another. She had been steadily making her way further from the heart of the battle, but a third stream of gore inched her towards it again. She knew she should fly, or at least draw her wand to defend herself, but the horrors she saw all around left her mind feeling muddled and dull.

  An incineration spell obviously meant for one of the undead zoomed by her head so closely that s
he could feel a few strands of her hair start to burn. Slapping at her Gibson girl up-sweep, Violet’s feet found motion on their own, and she turned to run, no matter what the consequences.

  Her burst of speed only lasted a few brief steps as she ran straight into the arms of a large gentleman clad in a suit of the deepest purple brocade. Knowing immediately that her blind flight had meant her undoing, she looked up at his face to see the eyes of a Vampire made bright by the proximity of so much blood.

  Violet gasped and tried to pull away, but there was no escaping his iron grasp. The Vampire looked down at her; the smile playing across his lips belied the crazed look in his eyes. Violet thought for a brief moment that maybe she was mistaken and this undead being meant to do her no harm. That was until his smile cracked open wider, and his lips peeled back revealing a set of jagged teeth that were already coated with a layer of red. The creature had recently been feeding and obviously meant to make Violet his next delicacy.

  “I should have listened to Vera,” the girl thought and was then instantly annoyed that on the precipice of death, her aunt’s future admonishments filled her brain. Her head began to swim, and she felt the blessing that she would lose consciousness before the Vampire had a chance to feast on her blood. The last thing she remembered before the dark closed in was the figure of Sebastian charging towards her.

  “Curious,” she thought muzzily. “What’s he doing here?”

  Chapter 6: The World Always Changes When You Least Expect It

  Violet regained consciousness by emitting a small shriek, her hands flying into the air to deflect the plunge of the vampire’s fangs but her eyes staying firmly shut. She had no wish to see death as it descended upon her.