Page 5

Chapter Five

T he raccoon wasn’t in my apartment when I got home, but the mess he’d left behind was very real. That was fun cleaning up. Finally, I pulled out the little package my dad had gotten for me, and unwrapped a little pamphlet in Goblin that made a thrill of absolute happiness rush through me. He knew exactly what I liked. The problem was that I couldn’t sit and read something fascinating, like a goblin pamphlet about overthrowing the country, when I had to do research on Judge Stevens. I didn’t have to. Lieutenant Joss had absolutely not given me the assignment, but if it was murder…

I found nothing. Not that night, not the next, and not the next. Before I knew it, it was Thursday, and I was getting off work early because I needed to go to my coven meeting. I definitely wasn’t turning into a goblin. My skin wasn’t green, and I couldn’t see in the dark. Although my sense of smell and hearing were still weirdly acute.

My mother had me drive my purple hornet Hatchett while she read a spellbook about manipulating emotions and moods.

She didn’t talk much on the forty-five minute drive out of the city and into the woodland suburb where the witch lot was. It was backed on several very large properties and was a good hundred acres of wild woods and swamp, some of which went up to the river.

“You know, Tim might be here tonight.”

“Tim?” I asked, pulling into the spot under the shade of the trees between a black-and-white striped truck and a brown sedan. The truck belonged to Clarinda, my closest witch friend, not that we were particularly close, but she also disliked coven meetings and lived in the city so she wouldn’t have to mingle very often. She also refused to date warlocks and hated animals. She was also usually grumpy, but her fashion sense was incredibly strong. Also weird. She owned the clothing commission shop, ‘Change Your Stripes,’ and had an extremely strong business sense. She also reminded me of my mother. No, we weren’t friends, but we did usually end up standing next to each other at these things, feeling uncomfortable together.

“Yes. He’s Portalia’s grandson.”

“The one who stuffs people’s dead familiars?”

“That’s right,” she said, stiffly. “He’s an accomplished taxidermist.”

“Perfect. I look forward to chatting with him.”

She sniffed and got out, walking towards the woods, towards the grove where we’d all chant and dance around like woodland creatures. No, actually, we’d all try to avoid being pulled into someone’s project, such as Portalia, who I would never willingly be related to. Sorry, Tim. I’d rather date a demon. Handy that I had his card.

When we got to the clearing, I went straight for the hand-hewn boards strung between old mossy oak trunks to see if Clarinda had brought any of her sausage rolls. The things were addictive. Aha! There would be one pleasant thing about this coven meeting. The sausage rolls smelled heavenly, with the golden glaze over the top that beckoned, promising happiness for a good sixty seconds. I grabbed for one, but my mother caught my arm and swung me around to face a terrified Tim, who was also angling towards the sausage rolls.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and looked like he might work out, but his eyes had a touch of panic that I deeply understood.

“Tim, this is my daughter, Rynne. You will ask her to dance at least twice tonight,” my mother insisted.

He blinked at her and then at me. Finally, he gave me a sickly smile. “Oh. Sure. Do you want to…um…Dance?” He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.

I glanced at my mother. I had said that I was thinking about dating. “That sounds, um, great,” I finally said, grimacing at Tim.

He looked shocked and horrified that I’d said yes, but he only nodded rapidly and went away.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward,” Clarinda said, handing me a sausage roll. “He’s clearly head over heels. You should name all of your children different reds to match his love-struck blushes. Carmine, Scarlet, Auburn, Jasper…”

My mother gave her a hard look and went to say hello to someone else she knew. I took a large bite of the sausage roll and chewed quickly, swallowed, and took another bite with a little too much frustrated panic. I’d have to dance with Tim? What I’d told the bouncer about my not dancing was true. Painfully true.

“So…” Clarinda said, nudging me with her arm.

I bumped her back. “So, we’re both here. I told my mother that I was going to start dating.”

“Why?”

“Honestly? I’ve been feeling like if I was dating, I wouldn’t be making such bad choices involving drunk raccoons and goblin priestesses.” I frowned and looked at her, because I didn’t mean to be quite that honest. “Did you truth-spell me?”

She was studying me intently. “What’s that about goblin priestesses? Also a drunk raccoon, but the first sounds more dangerous. Although a drunk raccoon could be incredibly deadly.”

I leaned against the makeshift table and then had to quickly catch the board before I pushed it off the stump. “Sorry. I just ran into a goblin priestess last week, Thursday, and she drained my energy while I walked her to goblin town. The thing that’s weird is afterwards, my hearing and sense of smell became kind of intense. I heard somewhere that the Magga turns humans into goblins to make them her?—”

“Vessels. Yes. I’ve heard of that,” she said, nodding and studying me closely. “But usually she only takes those who are willing. When I say willing, people lobby to become her acolytes. The odds of her picking someone off the street are incredibly small.”

“Why would anyone want to become a goblin?”

“One of her acolytes. Well, there’s the magic, the life span, the strength, and the senses, but most of them do it for the power.”

“Power? I’m not interested. I can just tell her that.”

“If it’s already started, it’s done. I’m not sure how you could undo it. Maybe she’s getting senile, choosing someone completely at random. She’s supposed to be truly ancient.”

The music started and Tim cleared his throat behind me. I could smell the chemicals on his skin, his nervousness and determination. He would dance with me even if it killed him. If I killed him. Why would he be willing to face death?

I turned and smiled at Tim, while panic clawed at my throat. “Should we get started?”

“Yes. That would be good to dance together first instead of last.” His words were stilted, awkward. Just how I felt.

I followed him to the area cleared for the purpose of woodland frolicking. The band was called, ‘Warlock’s Kiss,’ and they had an earthy metal thing going on that was hard to describe and even harder to dance to, but witches were known for their musicality. The main thing was not tripping and impaling Tim on a branch. That was my goal, lofty as it was.

He took my hand, and we walked around for a bit until we got closer to the area with the band, so the music really rang through my sensitive ears. Tim took both of my hands in a move of startling boldness and then we were hopping to the side towards a tree. He pulled me away from it at the last second, sending us into a spin that ended bumping against Joe ‘The Wall’ Porter. He gave us a look of confusion while Tim babbled an apology and led me once again into a wild frolic towards the other end of the clearing.

It was a disaster. Absolutely humiliating as well as reiterating. I would never be a dancer, or date a warlock, or come to another coven gathering.

At any rate, the dance ended, leaving me breathless and humiliated, with a smile pasted on my face.

Tim nodded at me and scratched his head. “She said two. Do you want to dance the next?” His eyes were pleading with me to say no.

“I can’t. I have to find out about my familiar. It got caught in a trap, and so I think it might be getting a serious infection. I bandaged it and poulticed it, but you know raccoons, so good at taking off bandages. Also, I’m probably turning into a goblin. Sorry.” I turned around and marched off before I said anything else that would mark me as a lunatic. I had definitely walked through a truth spell at some point. Another reason to stay away from coven meetings.

“You have a familiar?” Tim asked, apparently following me.

Why was he following me? I grabbed a stoneware mug full of some kind of home brew off the plank and took a large swig of it. Elderberries. Nice. With a hint of pine. That reminded me of wanting to buy shampoo. The wares were set up on blankets on the ground on the edges of the clearing. I should walk around and find something. Yes. I had a purpose.

“A raccoon,” I said when I realized he was still following me. I glanced over my shoulder at him, and he looked at me with this expression of burgeoning hope. Why would he… Oh. Because he worked with people’s dead familiars, so now I was a potential client. That was so much better than being a potential life mate. I relaxed a tiny bit as I lowered the mug.

“That must be challenging. And you said he was injured?”

“Ah, well, yes, he got caught in a trap, but I think he’ll make a full recovery if he doesn’t get an infection from rolling around in something truly disgusting. Anyway, thanks for the dance.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a second dance?” he asked, also relaxing.

“I—”

“Rynne Sato!” Portalia announced, like I’d murdered someone or was the winner of an extremely dramatic prize.

“Portalia. It’s so nice to see you.”

Portalia was the voice of our coven, mostly because she was so loud, both when she spoke and when she dressed. Her hot pink turban went beautifully with the layer of gold fringe over her forehead. She was dressed somewhere between a fortune teller and a genie with curved and pointed slippers. She took my hand and pulled it to her bosom, rubbing her thumb over my palm while she studied me with her bright, beady eyes. “I sense a change in you. Earth magic grows inside of you, taking root in your heart. In your soul.”

She’d obviously heard the gossip. I shouldn’t have come to the coven if I wanted to keep these secrets to myself.

“I had a run-in with Magga, a goblin priestess.”

Her expression became intent and creepy. “You are bound to goblin magic? Goblin strength? You will join our circle tonight!”

And that’s why fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the dirt in a circle between Portalia and my mother, wearing a sack dress. Literally, it was a sack with three holes cut into it, one large one for my legs. It itched and smelled like potatoes. Also, I felt like an idiot. I was a cop, not some wishy washy witch who pranced around in the moonlight. And I wasn’t turning into a goblin. That was ridiculous. I hadn’t ever seen anything in the dark, and I certainly wasn’t turning green. This circle would prove how negligible my magic was and exactly how little power I had to give.

It started like most circles, chanting, passing around a bucket and soup ladle, filled with an elixir designed to loosen your magical barriers, open yourself up to the weight of the universe. Also, the will of others. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but I could cope. This would prove that I wasn’t turning into a goblin, once and for all.

When the bucket got to me, I swallowed some of the liquid that was more home brew, but much stronger. I passed it on quickly and then chanted with the other ladies different astronomical signs. Finally, the chanting cut off and Portalia stood, swaying like a drunk raccoon in her bright purple slip.

“I call upon the stars, the woods, the wind, to strengthen this circle of truth, of determination. I call upon these sisters linked in the bonds of our coven, to nourish the seed of our searching.” Whatever that meant. I’d studied at school, but I went for more practical applicable spelling, like handcuffs.

I started to zone out, thinking about who had murdered Judge Stevens, if it was a murder, and then shadows began swirling in the center of the circle. I made out an office, the judge’s face, looking at someone in horror, and then the shot rang through the clearing, making us all jump.

Everyone stared at me, Portalia’s gaze the most intense, searing into my soul.

I swallowed hard. “Sorry about that. I was distracted. Someone from work just died.”

Portalia raised her hand slowly, pointing at me while her eyes burned. “You! You took the spell from me. You, Rynne Sato with the weak magic and the weaker will, took the will from all of us to answer your own seeking. You are becoming stronger!” She chortled and everyone stared at me like I was a weird science project.

I scrambled to my feet, wearing a potato sack. “What do you mean, I’m becoming stronger? Do you think there’s actually some truth to this becoming a goblin nonsense?”

“Nonsense? You took control of the circle without any intent or effort. You will be a mighty vessel, but not for Magga. Our coven needs strength more than an ancient priestess who never should have taken one of ours. You will learn to focus on the needs of others, and will become the greatest asset to our community.”

Asset to our community? That sounded like enslavement. I took two steps away from the circle. “Actually, I’m going to find a cure to stop this. I came here for a cure.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “What’s a little green skin among witches? Think of the power, Rynne. Think of finally truly belonging.”

Belonging to the coven sounded worse than belonging to the Magga. I took another two steps away from them, shaking my head. “I’ll never belong here. Mom, you can take my car back. I’ll get a ride with Clarinda.” I turned and ran, potato sack and all. I did grab my clothing and my purse on my way to the parking lot.

Tim was there, looking confused and fairly sturdy. I handed him my keys. “Please give these to my mother,” I told him, then continued dashing out of there as fast as my legs could carry me.

“Can I get a ride?” I asked as I climbed into Clarinda’s passenger seat while she stared at me, like she wasn’t sure what to do with me. She didn’t stay for the circles, and she didn’t really mingle. She also didn’t carpool.

She finally shrugged and put her truck in gear, backing out of the space. “You want to talk about it?”

“I think Judge Stevens was murdered. I saw a woman’s hand on the gun before he…” The image of his face, of the blood, struck me hard. I’d actually seen it.

“You know, I was actually talking about why you’re running out of there in a potato sack, but if you’d rather talk about a murder, who am I to stop you?”

“Oh. Well, I took the lead. On accident. I guess that means my magic really is stronger.”

She shot me an impressed look before refocusing on the road. “I imagine Portalia wasn’t happy about that.”

“She was ecstatic. She wants to train me to be a good vessel for her will.”

She snorted. “That’s not how it works. Also, your will isn’t weak. Not remotely. You’re just not interested in coven power struggles. Who would be? All of it is so pointless.” She sounded depressed.

I patted her shoulder, which was weird, because in that moment of connection, I heard prison doors slamming, and the voice of a man booming, “I sentence you for life?—”

And then she jerked away from me, scowling darkly at the road in front of us. I stared at her, then at my hand, which looked the same. Didn’t it look the same? It wasn’t turning green, was it? But something was happening to me. I could read auras, but that had been much stronger, much more intense.

“You’re going to have to learn to control yourself,” she said softly, but there was a dangerous undercurrent to it.

I curled my hands in my lap over the potato sack and nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. So, I really am turning into a goblin?”

“It’s not a true transformation. You’ll take on characteristics and their magic, but you’ll always be part human.”

I looked at her skeptically. Was she trying to make me feel better? “Thanks. I still think it can be undone. Maybe I can talk to the Magga and explain that I don’t want her magic and power.”

“Why don’t you want it?” she said, looking at me curiously. “Most people would be really happy with the fact that they were able to take control of a circle, take control of all the people who have treated you like you’re worthless because you lacked potent ability.”

I gave her a horrified look. “You think I want to be like Portalia? I have things to do. My life isn’t some aside to my magic. My magic serves my life, and neither me or my magic are going to be enslaved to someone else. I serve the greater good, justice, and peace.”

“Hm.” She smiled slightly. “Your idealism is inspiring. Good luck getting the goblins to take away their special gift. How lucky that you know some goblins who might be able to help you.”

“I know goblins?”

“Your mother talks about you and your goblin friends at the coven meetings.”

“Does she?”

“I think she even had some hopes that you were developing something romantic.” She shot me a grin. “Speaking of romance, Tim survived dancing with you. I don’t think you so much as stepped on his foot.”

I started pulling on my pants under the potato sack. No way was I getting out of her car looking like this. “It was truly magical. Seriously, my mother wasn’t appalled by the idea of me dating a goblin?”

“She just wants you to find somebody. Some people are like that, intensely riveted on other people’s happiness like they have none of their own.” Her lips thinned, and that’s the last thing she said for the rest of the drive.

It was fine. I was left with my thoughts. Which went around in circles, bouncing between dating goblins, demons, and warlocks, oh my, to finding some evidence about the Judge’s death, and finally, becoming some goblin-witch vessel that everybody wanted to drain.