The Whimsy Witch Who Wasn't (Tales of Xest Book 1) Page 2

  The room was ready, the smell of herbs in the air. Loris believed electronics interfered with her gift, so the place was lit by candlelight. I loved Loris dearly, but wasn’t so sure the electronics were the true issue. But she believed in what she did. So did her customers, so that was enough.

  I sat at the table, taking Loris’ hand and the customer’s. She was a smiling older lady who already had tissues ready beside her. Getting here late had cut back on the small talk, as I’d hoped. The questions, anything from “how long have you been speaking to the dead” to “how long will they stay and talk” made these occasions even worse than normal.

  Loris began chanting as I closed my eyes, thinking about how much laundry I needed to do. It was a lot. I had one outfit left for tomorrow. My building had a few coin-operated machines in the basement and several tenants who didn’t like to remove their clothes in a timely fashion. The math didn’t work out to my benefit. If I had to dump their clothes on top of the machine tonight, I would. I’d had enough of this laundry rudeness.

  “Who are you?” came a deep, gritty voice.

  Hmmm. Loris was really working on her voice effects lately. That was a new one. Little on the rude side, but definitely spooky. And had she set up a remote-control fan in here or something? I felt an uncomfortable draft.

  “Wh-what?” Loris asked, as if she hadn’t been the one to ask in the first place.

  She was really giving it her all tonight.

  “Who. Are. You?”

  My fingers were about to be broken by this customer if Loris didn’t chill out soon. I was going to have to shoot her a silent signal and let her know she was taking it too far. I opened my eyes, with the intention of getting Loris’ attention, and all words, hints, and signals fled from my mind. In front of me, hovering over the table, was a genuine ghost. Like, a legitimate form in transparent white. Considering Loris couldn’t use her cell phone reliably, this had to be the real thing.

  “Who are you?” it asked, looking solely at me.

  Loris and the client were staring at the ghost, stunned.

  “I wasn’t paid for a call. Who are you to summon me? You better be paying for this!” the ghost continued, her face wavering in and out. She was still clear enough to see the angry lines of her expression.

  “I did pay her!” the customer said, thinking the ghost was referring to Loris.

  I didn’t know who was supposed to be “paid,” but I’d bet my rent it wasn’t Loris. This ghost seemed to think I was supposed to pay her.

  Loris was chanting some “Oh, great spirit” crap beside me.

  “How much do you want?” I asked. I had some coffee money in my purse if it would make her feel better.

  “You didn’t pay,” she said, almost too clearly for someone who was supposedly dead and talking from the other side. The ghost looked like a bitter hag as she shoved her finger in my face. “Don’t call us again without a negotiated deal, jerk.”

  Jerk? Did that ghost really call me a jerk? I’d heard of nasty ghosts that would haunt your house or possess you. But this? What was this?

  “Wait, I have to talk to Mama!” the customer yelled from beside me, grasping at the now-empty space.

  The ghost was gone. The customer was screaming, “Come back!” Loris had her hands clasped in front of her chest as she repeated something about thanking the mother.

  Me? I was sitting there, not talking, not moving, except for the trembling in my hands as I thought about how the wind had whispered my name, and the leaves had looked like little trolls scurrying across the ground, following me.

  It had all been in my head. That was what I always told myself. But if that was the case, what had happened tonight? I had two witnesses that could attest to this not being a delusion.

  I leapt to my feet.

  “I gotta go,” I said, not caring if anyone heard me.

  Loris was still busy thanking the mother while the customer was walking around the room crying for the ghost to come back, waving her hands in the air.

  I shot into the front room, grabbed my purse from under the counter, and hustled out of there. I needed to get to a tattoo shop, and there was only one that stayed open late enough on a Sunday to get this done for me. I walked a few steps, then jogged a few feet before I ran the rest of the way.

  I burst through the door of the Ink Well. A single tattooist was leaning over, tattooing a tiger onto a girl’s outer thigh as her male friend watched on.

  “Can you fit me in tonight?” I asked, winded.

  “Sorry,” the tattooist said, not looking up from his work. “Won’t be done until late. I can fit you in tomorrow, though. Nothing scheduled for the morning.”

  Tomorrow? What if that ghost came back? No. I needed this tattoo back tonight. “I really need it done now. It’s sort of an emergency.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ll have to somehow survive your tattoo emergency until tomorrow.” The tattooist rolled his eyes, and the three of them chuckled.

  “You don’t understand. This is really important,” I said.

  “And mine isn’t?” the girl lying on the bench asked, looking at the outline on her leg.

  The tattooist stopped and looked up. “Like I said, come back tomorrow. She was here first.” He went back to his tattooing as if I weren’t there.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I’ll wait until you’re done.”

  He leaned back, this time putting his needle down. “Look, I’m not doing it tonight. Now get out.” The tattooist looked at the male friend. “Can you show her out so I can get back to work?”

  The male, all six foot something of him, nodded, stood, and took a step toward me.

  I backed up. “I’m going.”

  I jogged home, worried I’d see something else.

  I’d call in late and get the tattoo in the morning. It was just a tattoo, and getting rid of it might’ve had nothing to do with what happened. But still, the timing was too weird to ignore. I’d spent the last several months removing a tattoo that now I couldn’t wait to put back on.

  In the meantime, I took my kitchen table and moved it in front of the door of my apartment. It was from a secondhand store. It showed its age, but the solid wood was heavy as hell. That wouldn’t stop a ghost, but it made the craziness that had been drilled into me by my mother quiet down a bit.

  I showered, put on my last clean outfit, and then lay in bed while the stories my mother would tell me ran through my head. Most kids had bedtime stories of princes and princesses. Mine were about monsters and goblins that would come for me while I slept. My hand went to where my necklace lay against my chest, one of the last things I had from my mother.

  I wrapped myself in three layers of blankets, closed my eyes, and tried to clear my mind of all the crazy thoughts trying to intrude, all the horrible stories I’d been told. I tried to obliterate all the memories of my childhood, praying that there wasn’t some grain of truth in them.

  “I didn’t bring enough salt.”

  My door hadn’t opened. How was there a voice inside my apartment? It had to be another ghost. I clenched my hands on the comforter. Don’t open your eyes. Pretend it’s not there. It’ll go away.

  “You’re kidding me, right? You didn’t bring it again? How do you keep a job? If I wasn’t with you, you’d be thrown out on your ass.”

  “Why didn’t you bring the salt if you’re such a professional?”

  “Because I asked you and you said you had it. Just go find some. These humans always have salt.”

  “Not sure I’m going to find anything in this barren wasteland,” a guy said. His footsteps shuffled away, and my bedroom door creaked open.

  My heart was pounding. One left. If I could stab him with the knife under my pillow before the other one came back, I had a chance.

  I turned, located the man, and swung in his direction. Before my arm completed its arc, the knife was knocked out of my hand. The guy had barely moved, but the knife was lying across the room. I stood defenseless in a
worn sweatshirt with holes and faded leggings that had been black once upon a time.

  The guy squinted as we took each other’s measure. He had a shaved head except for a single braid that sprouted from the top of his head. There were goggles strapped to his forehead, and he wore a studded black leather jacket.

  “She’s awake! Can you hurry up with the salt?” Braid yelled toward the door.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Bounty hunter,” he said.

  The other man walked in, this one with a full head of purple hair that formed spikes, wearing a silver jumpsuit that was nearly blinding.

  Spike glanced at me where I’d pressed my back against the wall, before holding up salt packets to his friend. “She had some fast-food packets. Little stale and crusty, but they should work.”

  “It’ll do,” Braid said, pulling a flask out of the interior pocket of his jacket. He opened it and made a puddle on my floor, and for some reason, all I could think about was the water stain it was going to leave if I didn’t clean it up soon. There went my security deposit. It wasn’t the sanest thought, but this situation wasn’t sane.

  He kept pouring until it was large enough that the puddle hit the tips of my toes. He then ripped open the salt packets and sprinkled them onto the puddle. With a smile in my direction, they both stepped onto the puddle and then they were gone.

  And so was I.

  3

  It felt like I’d been tossed out a window and dumped in the middle of a darkly lit room. The two men who’d been in my bedroom were there, as well as an older man that reminded me of a picture I’d seen of Einstein once. If anything was normal, that was the extent of it. This place looked older than most of the historical buildings in Salem, with stone walls and floors and a fireplace big enough for me to stand in. I didn’t recognize it either, not that I’d been in every building in the area.

  Where was I? How had I gotten here? I peeked out the only window and my breathing halted as my heart raced. This was not Salem. It looked like some medieval place, with stone buildings lining the lane, and streetlights that appeared to be gas.

  “What did I tell you about showing up without warning?” Einstein asked.

  “This is the pop-up who had a price on her head,” Spike said, throwing a thumb in my direction.

  “Where am I?” I asked the three men.

  Einstein glanced at me and then back to Spike and Braid. “I’m not paying for her. I can’t feel any magic.”

  “You said bring anyone in that has a price on their head and they’d be worth ten to you. Well, here she is.” Braid took a step closer to me and pointed.

  “I’m not paying for her. She feels weak,” Einstein said.

  I felt weak? Paying for me? What was wrong with these people? Was I awake?

  “You didn’t even test her,” Braid said.

  “Screw him,” Spike said.

  “We’ll take her down the road. I heard Rottie was looking for someone,” Braid said.

  These people were trying to sell me? They’d kidnapped me through a puddle and now they wanted to auction me off? This couldn’t possibly be real. I was losing it. I was ending up just like my mother. Insane. But if this was a delusion, it was a really good one.

  “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. That’s why I’m not screaming magic. I have none. I don’t know who you people think I am, but I’m not that person. This is a huge mistake.”

  They all looked at me, staring like I was crazy. Just for the heck of it, I patted myself on the cheek to see if I could wake up.

  “I think she might be crazy,” Spike said softly to Braid.

  Braid elbowed him and gave him a look that clearly told him to shut up.

  “See? No magic and crazy,” Einstein said.

  They stared at me for another half a second before Braid turned back to Einstein. “If you’re saying you don’t want her, fine. We’re taking her down the street.”

  Braid grabbed my arm, tugging me toward the door. Spike followed us.

  Einstein threw up a hand. “Just wait a second there. She’s not screaming ‘magic,’ but she might be useful on some of the factory floors.”

  Braid tugged me back in the room.

  This seemed like a dance these three had done many times before. I just wish I knew the steps as well as they did.

  I tried to tug out of Braid’s grip, but his fingers wouldn’t budge. “I really don’t think you understand. I’m normal. I don’t have magic. I don’t know where I am, but I do know I shouldn’t be here. If you let me go, I won’t say a word about this place to anyone, ever. Just put me back where I was and we’re cool.”

  “No one is talking to you. Shut up,” Braid said.

  “I’ll test her,” Einstein said, shaking his head as he walked back behind the massive wood desk, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. He opened a bunch of drawers. When he got to the bottom, something jumped out with a puff of smoke and hopped across the room with a fluffy grey tail, leaving a trail of dusty paw prints in its wake before it escaped into the hall.

  Einstein waved a hand in the air, coughing. “Damn dust bunny,” he said before he went back to searching. “Where is that tester?” He moved to the door and yelled, “Mertie! Did you take my tester?”

  “Bottom drawer on the right,” a female yelled back.

  He walked back over, grumbling as he looked through the drawers again. “There it is. Blasted woman, always moving my stuff.”

  He pulled out a small strainer, something that looked like you’d run orange juice through if you didn’t like pulp. It had a small jar that was stuck on the other side of it. He walked over, holding the strainer up in front of me.

  “Take a deep breath, hold it for as long as you can, and then blow into here.” He tapped a long black nail on the jar.

  As little as I understood, magic seemed to be what they were after. If I did have magic, and this thing proved it, what would happen to me then?

  “I told you, I don’t have magic,” I said, trying to back away but stopped by the ever-present hand on my arm.

  Braid lifted my arm, bringing me to my toes. “If you don’t have any magic, we don’t need you, and we aren’t going to waste our time taking you back. If you do have magic, you live, so I’d think hard on that.”

  “You sure you don’t want to blow into the tester?” Spike asked.

  “I’d do it if I were you,” came a small, squeaky voice. I searched the room and saw three see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil monkey statues on Einstein’s bookcase.

  The monkey covering his mouth dropped his hand and said, “If you don’t have magic, you’re not here. If you’re not here, you’re not anywhere.”

  The hear no evil monkey nodded as the see no evil monkey stared at me, eyes wide open.

  “I’d listen to them. They never lie,” Spike said.

  All three monkeys nodded this time.

  If I’d needed a sure sign I wasn’t in Salem, besides a puddle sucking me up and spitting me out, and the view of a medieval city out the window, these monkeys had hammered the last nail in the coffin.

  If this tester thing said I didn’t have magic, I was as dead as Spike’s eyes were. I didn’t know how many deaths they had on their hands, but I could almost see the blood dripping from their fingertips. My fate if I had magic was iffy at best, but my fate without magic had been spelled out all too clearly. I took a deep breath and blew into the strainer, while everyone watched on, including the monkeys.

  It did nothing until I was nearly out of air, but then finally something happened. The last of my breath went through the strainer and the glass jar filled with a purple dust that shimmered and moved about like a strange sort of snow globe.

  The monkeys on the desk snickered. “Just another Whimsy witch,” Speak No Evil said.

  “See? Magic. Now pay up,” Braid demanded.

  Einstein held the glass up, shaking it. “There’s plenty of Whimsy work to be done
in the factory, so I guess I’ll take her.”

  “That’ll be ten coins.”

  Braid finally released my arm in order to hold out his palm toward Einstein, who flipped him a shiny gold coin.

  Spike tipped his head. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said.

  The duo left through the door. I didn’t follow. It was clear I’d been bought and paid for.

  I turned to Einstein. “Can you tell—”

  “Mertie!” Einstein yelled over me. “Have a new one!”

  Mertie appeared in the door less than a second later, slender with long black hair, bright red skin, and two horns on her head. “I heard you, boss. You don’t need to scream.”

  My jaw dropped as I backed away. “I’m already dead, aren’t I? I’m in hell.”

  Mertie rolled eyes that were nearly all black before turning to Einstein. “They all do the same shit. It’s getting old. When is this going to stop?”

  “It’s not my fault you look like a demon,” Einstein said, settling back down in his chair.

  “Then you’re not a demon?”

  She groaned loudly. “Of course I’m a demon. Look at me! But I take offense at being called one. Now, come on, I don’t have all day.” She turned, waving at me to follow her. I went because at least she’d spoken directly to me.

  She clomped down the hallway, her black leather miniskirt showing off kickass red legs and unfortunate hoofed feet that didn’t require shoes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you,” I said, catching up to her. This was not the time to acquire enemies. I needed friends, even demon ones.

  “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” She let out a little huff, the smell of smoke following it.

  We walked down the long, narrow hallway, also built of stone. Then a circular staircase, also made of stone. There seemed to be nothing that wasn’t made of stone in this place.

  After giving her a minute or two to calm down after my apparent insult, I asked, “Where am I, exactly?”

  “You’re in Xest.”

  “Xest?”