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The next morning, I made myself some breakfast and met Ajax in the dining room. He was sitting at the long table, sipping tea from his bone china cup, and chewing on some blackened toast.
"Did you sleep well?" I asked him as I sat down. I had picked my darkest red gown for the day. The skirt was a little tight, so I perched on the edge of the chair.
He merely grunted.
"Another quiet day?" I asked.
"I did not cancel our guests tonight," he told me, setting down his cup like a challenge.
I wet my lips. "Do you think that is wise?"
"We do not have the income to meet our outcome. And while that World Walker—"
"William."
"—William seems like a nice young man, he's not going to fix our problem anytime soon. So, we need guests. We need guests and we need to hire a witch with powers. I chased a goblin out of the garden this morning, but there is no telling when he'll be back with his friends. We can't get goblins again, Miss Spell. We have no gargoyles to chase them away! If it gets out that we brought the exterminator here for goblins..."
I took a deep breath and nodded in sad agreement. Ajax was absolutely right. We were on borrowed time as it was. Oh for a vacationing pair of gargoyles on the roof of the No Spell, gargoyles wanting nothing more than to chase away our evil guests for fun!
"I will be back to take over for you this evening," I told him.
He gave a harrumph of approval, then picked up a newspaper and started reading it.
"I may... I may have a plan for how to get some magic..." I continued, nervously.
He didn't even put down the paper as he spoke. "I don't want to hear about why or how, because if you went to your coven and they denied you, you are up to something I should not have any knowledge of in case it can be used against you in a court of law."
"Fair enough," I replied, gulping down my food.
Ajax got up and cleared my plate. Though his words were harsh, there was a kindness in his eyes. "Don't get yourself killed, right?"
"Right."
I headed out the door, wanting to make sure I finished my errand while the double suns were highest in the sky. I walked down to Main Street, a narrow, cobblestone road that was straight out of a Charles Dickens book. There were women in Victorian garb and bonnets, men wearing top hats and cravats. There were also possessed Jack the Ripper wannabes roaming these streets and a nasty fog that would put you down faster than any silver knife.
I turned the corner into a shadowy alley. This was where black magic was bought and sold. Fallen angels leaned against the stained brick walls
"Take you to heaven, love?" a shirtless winged wonder shouted at me.
"In your prayers!" I called back with a wink, trying to display a swagger that made it seem like I belonged here.
I never thought I'd dabble in this side of magic. It just wasn't what a witch like me would do. But the natural ways were barred to me. It was survival, I had to keep reminding myself.
I tried to pick the least terrifying pawnshop on the street. Its windows were crammed with ancient books and bones, but at least they didn't feature fangs and sacrificial knives like some of the other places.
Inside, it was crowded with goods, I had to pick my way around barrels filled with old newt eyes and another with petrified rattails. The walls were packed with bottles four deep, and all of them past their expiration date.
An old hag sat behind the counter wearing an eye patch. Hair sprouted out of a mole on her pointed chin. There but by the grace of the goddess go I...
"Not often we see the likes of witches like you," she said, giving me a rotted, toothless smile.
"Don't judge a spell book by its cover," I replied, bracingly.
"Well, everyone's money is good enough here," she stated, rapping her knuckles on the warped counter. "Tell me what you're looking for and I'll see what I can do."
I leaned against the dirty wood. "I need a broom," I muttered under my breath.
"A broom?" She cackled so hard, she started hacking. "Oh, dearie, that's going to cost you quite a bit."
I sighed. "How much are we talking?"
She cleared the phlegm from her throat and wiped her eyes. "Well, seeing as how I'll have to hide the sale from your coven, explain a missing broom..."
"What will it cost?"
"Oh, a lock of your pretty hair... a memory..."
I resisted the urge to tell her that well was dry, and the whole reason I was here was that someone had been generously helping themselves to my memories already.
"How about this?" I asked. I pulled the ruby out of my purse and slid it across the counter.
The hag pulled out a jeweler's loupe and examined the stone. "Oh, very nice," she stated. "Imbued with first love." She then shrewdly pushed it away. "Barely worth the stone it is made of."
"You know and I know that is not true," I stated, pushing it back to her. "First loves are powerful loves. Trade me a broom for the stone."
"And a lock of your hair?"
A lock of hair used in a spell could be used against me. This was just a stone and first love had already done its damage. "Just the stone."
She pretended to think it over.
"Or I can just take it to the next store over," I said, reaching out to take it away.
She slapped her hand down on mine, then pretended like she wasn't as desperate as her actions revealed.
"A used broom," she countered.
"A used broom that works," I stated.
She sniffed as if I had insulted her. "I would never sell anything but."
"You have yourself a deal." I reached out my hand to shake on it.
When she touched my hand, there was a small spark acknowledging the binding of our agreement.
She swiped the ruby off the counter. "I'll be back," she said, walking through a moth-eaten curtain and into the backroom. She reentered with a sad, scrawny stick with a few twigs at the end. It barely counted as a broom.
"I said I wanted one that works," I reminded her.
"Ol’ Broomie works," she said, placing it in the middle of the paper counter and wrapping it. "It'll just take a little magic to get it into fighting form." She leaned across. "If you can't the natural way, a little spilled blood does wonders."
"That wasn't a part of the deal!" I exclaimed.
"You never said it wasn't."
I was horrified. "I just want a broom that flies! One that works! Why do I need to infuse it—"
"Everything needs a little magic, and if you don't have enough power to get it legally, then I'm afraid it is up to you to get the power through less legal means," she replied with a cruel wink.
But the bargain was done. There was nothing I could do to change that. She had trapped me fair and square. One should always watch out for loopholes when making magical bindings. She received a top-of-the-line, first-love ruby in exchange for a ratty broom. At least she was tying it up with a nice bow.
"Thanks," I said, not meaning it.
"Come again, any time!" she hacked as she climbed back onto her stool. "A pleasure doing business with you!"
I took the package by the string and stalked out of the shop, trying not to beat myself up.
I couldn't spill blood for magic.
I couldn't.
But what if my own survival depended on it?
As one of the fallen angels catcalled a nasty suggestion about what he'd like to do to my bosoms, I realized it might be easier to get over my squeamishness than I thought. On a case by case basis. Starting with that guy.
But my thoughts kept looping back to the hag. Hers was my fate if I didn't take some action. A magicless witch is a destitute. We already had goblins in the rafters. I would lose the No Spell if it got out girls were being pressed into my glass. I'd be lucky if I was able to afford a pawnshop in a dark alley. Faced with that reality, what was I willing to do to change this story?
I was no closer to a real answer by the time I got home to the No Spell.
Ajax was now polishing the brass floor vents, bless. He looked up to see what I was carrying, but did not ask any questions about the oddly shaped, brown paper wrapped object in my arms. In silence, I put the broom in my office before coming out.
"Any excitement?" I asked with a forced cheerfulness.
He shook his head. "All seems normal and balanced. I'll check the register later, though, to see if you start checking in any John Does."
Again, it was fair. I was guilty of exactly the sorts of deeds that demanded an audit. But I felt so infantile and accused, especially after being taken advantage of by that hag. "Enjoy your evening off," I said to him stiffly.
He toddled off, a whistle on his lips and a tap-dance in his soles. He gave a little bell-kick before turning the corner and heading toward his bedroom.
A few hours later, a happy couple checked in — a witch and a warlock. They were so sweet, cuddled against each other and so in love.
As I stared at them over the register, I wondered if I could do them in for my own benefit.
"Checking in?" I asked sweetly.
The man nuzzled his wife's neck. "That we are."
Such a delicate neck.
"How many nights?" I asked.
"Just one," said the man. "It's our anniversary."
The thought of the ruby I traded hung like a pit in my stomach; I gave up my first love for a worthless tool.
"This place is so darling," said the woman, taking in the pressed tin ceiling and mahogany architectural details. "I don't ever want to leave!"
Little did she know that in order for my magic to work, it might actually be a guest request I would need to fulfill.