Anna's Hope Episode One (2 page)

“Sorry, I just need my handkerchief.” Anna
negotiated around Luminaria’s snarling form until she managed to
pry her floral tissue from a side-pocket.

“You’re so pathetic. Mark my words,
they’ll take one look at you, and give the job to someone
else.”

Anna
tried to ignore Luminaria. She
concentrated on finding her way through the labyrinthine halls
instead.

There was no one waiting by the front doors
to direct her to Aaron’s, neither was there a helpful building map
or a reception desk.

Nope, there was simply a series of
branching corridors leading to closed doors with out-of-sequence
room numbers. The first one she passed read ‘356’, the second,
‘09’. Either the builder had been particularly dyslexic, or the
rooms changed themselves around. Considering this was the building
of the Marchtown MEC, she imagined it was the latter.

“Okay,” she mumbled to herself as she
wandered off down the corridor, drawing her phone from her pocket
to check where she was meant to go. “It should be around here
somewhere.”

“We’re going to get lost and end up as
skeletons scattered over the floor. When we start to starve, mark
my words, I’ll eat you first.”

Anna
ignored Luminaria. Over the years,
she’d become particularly good at it. It was a survival mechanism.
If she didn’t find some way to block out the cocky evil cat, she’d
go spare.

“Alright, it should be just over here.”
Anna surprised herself by stopping in front of the right door. “Ha,
I found it! Room 01. Here it is.” She pocketed her phone with a
smile and knocked.

“You did not find it – you got lucky,”
Luminaria sniped, “finding entails skill, girl, of which you have
none. You couldn’t find your way out of a locked coffin, let alone
into a wizard’s office.”

“…
Ah, who could find
their way out of a locked coffin? That’s a really weird thing to
say.”

“A witch could. True witches can do
anything.” Luminaria glared at her pointedly, then popped her head
back into the bag, disappearing from sight with a flick of her
tail.

Anna
rolled her eyes.

At the same moment, Aaron
opened the door. He lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry if you feel I made you
wait, Miss …?”

“Summersville,” she squeaked. “And no, no,
I—”

“If you could just take a seat,” he barely
glanced at her as he turned and walked back to his desk, “I have
something I need to finish.”

“Oh, sure.” She quietly sat
down.

And started to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Aaron’s office was suitably roomy. It was
also suitably majestic. It matched the guy’s personality perfectly.
Suave and debonair with the kind of class you rarely see this side
of ‘50s classics.

It also somehow had a commanding view of the
city’s stacks and office towers. A fantastic view considering this
office was technically on the first floor. She hadn’t entered a
lift or gone up a single flight of stairs, and yet she guessed they
were easily twenty stories up.

Not that surprising when you considered
magic was involved. In fact, considering the sheer amount of raw
potential concentrated in this place, it was a surprise this office
didn’t have a great view of the center of the sun or the surface of
the moon.

Anna
brushed her hair over her shoulder as
she continued to wait.

Aaron didn’t look up.
Not once. Fair
enough – he was a busy guy. He wouldn’t have time to deal with a
silly little witch while he was protecting the world from evil
wizards.

He had a patient expression as
he
methodically leafed through a massive magical tome propped
on the desk before him. The book was easily as big as a TV, and
looked just as heavy. It had intricately designed gold motifs
twisting up the black and blood-red spine.

She could sense it was magical. It made her
skin itch and her throat tingle.

Just as Anna resigned herself
to waiting here all day, something horrible happened. The same
horrible thing that always happened to her –
Luminaria.

With an irritated snort, she
snapped her head out from the bag, instantly glaring at
Aaron.
“Do
you mind, wizard? We have not come here to watch you reading. You
may be particularly full of yourself – but trust me, boy, nobody is
interested by the fact you’re literate. Surprised, granted, but not
interested. Now hurry the hell up.”

Anna
sucked in a shocked breath and tried
to shove Luminaria back in the bag. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Wizard
Arana. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Yes, I do. Now get your hands off me.”
Luminaria swatted Anna, scratching her across the hand.

“Ow.” Anna jerked her hand
back.

Aaron finally looked up. He had a pen in
one hand, the other halfway through turning a page. At first it
looked as if he had a patient expression on his handsome face, but
it quickly became bored. “Do you mind?”

“Do I mind?” Luminaria’s eyes
flared with indignation as she repeated his exact tone. “Let me
think?” She tapped a claw to her chin.
“Yes, I mind!
You are wasting my time. Do you
know who I am?”

“Yes, I am aware of who you are,” Aaron
clasped his fingers together and gazed blankly at Luminaria,
“you’re Luminaria von Tippit, one of the most prolific witch
criminals to have lived. You personally created some of the most
devastating dark spells of the Middle Ages. You stole and connived
your way into history. And yet, despite all those crimes, you never
went down for a single one. You managed to dodge your trial by
conveniently dying.”

Luminaria
narrowed her small golden-green
eyes and shot Aaron the kind of look that should have withered him
into a prune. “My death was not convenient, wizard. And I take
umbrage at your accusation. I died when Nature
dictated.”

“Indeed.” Aaron smiled around his words.
“And I take umbrage at having you in my office, let alone my
city.”

“Well, Mr Wizard, what are you
going to do about it? Oh yes,
nothing.
You have no legal recourse against me. I’m here
rightfully, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can say to that, is
there?”

Though
Anna was right there in the room,
neither of them looked at her. She felt like wallpaper blending
into the background. Then again, when didn’t she feel like
that?

Even though they both steadfastly ignored
her, she had to say something before this erupted into a slinging
match. A magical one.

She cleared her throat and
shifted forward until she sat on the very edge of her antique
chair.
“I’m
sorry, Wizard Arana, please excuse her. But I um … I’m here about
that job. I was told to meet with you directly for my
introduction.”

“You may have dodged your rightful
comeuppance, Luminaria, but you’re not untouchable. If you fall out
of line again, you will be punished. Eternally,” he added
darkly.

“Ah, excuse me?” Anna tried to get their
attention.

They both ignored her.

Luminaria chucked her head back and
chuckled, the effect so high-pitched and cute you’d be forgiven for
finding it funny. Well, you wouldn’t be forgiven by Luminaria – she
would eat your soul and curse every remaining second of your
life.

“I wouldn’t laugh,” Aaron warned, “your
heirloom contract with the Hopes might have saved you so far, but
you will step out of line one day. And I will be
waiting.”

“Oh you scare me, little wizard. Can’t you
see? I’m positively trembling.” Luminaria brought up a paw and held
it perfectly steady, as she wobbled her bottom lip in mock
fright.

“Ah, hello, guys?” Anna raised her
voice.

This was not how she’d envisioned this
meeting. She’d hoped Aaron would politely show her around with his
trademark debonair smile lifting his cheeks and making his eyes
sparkle.

Then again, when Luminaria was involved,
things never went to plan.

Anna
would have left her at home, hell,
she would have left her back in Vale, but she couldn’t. She was
bound by the contract.

She was responsible for Luminaria. She had
to look after her. From her health to her protection, Anna couldn’t
leave the possessed cat alone.

If she did, things would start to break.
In particular, Anna would start to break.

Heirloom contracts were a particularly nasty
business. Unfortunately some distant relative several hundred years
ago had been foolish enough to enter into one. Now every successive
generation had been burdened with the duty of looking after one
Luminaria Von Tippit – the most ill-mannered and raucous witch
since Hecate herself.

Fortunately heirloom contracts were well
understood by the magical community. No one blamed Anna – they saw
it as the rightful curse it was.

The MEC and Aaron had known all
about Luminaria before they’d offered
Anna the position. Most magical
enforcement councils did not discriminate based on such situations.
Plus, it wasn’t as if Luminaria was a threat to anyone. Verbally,
yes. Magically, no.

The terms of an heirloom contract
prevented Luminaria from practicing magic unless in
self-defense.

Still, if given the chance, Luminaria would
shout at Aaron until the sun went down.

Unnoticed by the bickering pair, Anna
reached into her bag, withdrew a small can of tuna, and opened it
quietly.

Immediately Luminaria stopped, mid-insult,
and sniffed the air.

Anna
placed the tuna on the floor, and
Luminaria jumped down to eat it without so much as another word or
curse.

Aaron, cheeks reddened from his
fight
,
looked across at her and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have
thought that would work on her,” he admitted quietly.

“She loves tuna. More than fighting. More
than magic. More than anything. It’s the one way I can keep her
quiet,” Anna mouthed. “Anyhow, so, ah … do you have a job for me?”
she asked hopefully.

Aaron didn’t even try to smile. “No. That
position has been filled.”

She blinked. It was so big and overwrought,
she would have looked like an actor on a stage. Problem was, she
wasn’t. This was real.

“Ah, you’re joking, right?”

“That position has been filled,” he
repeated firmly.

“But … I came all the way here from Vale
on the promise of a job.”

“No, you were not promised anything. You
were offered, but unfortunately the offer no longer stands as we’ve
found someone else to fill the vacancy.”

Anna
tried to swallow. It was hard,
because it felt like her throat had frozen. “Um … I … packed up my
whole life to come here.”

Aaron looked unmoved. “There are other
jobs available in this town, both mundane and magical. I’m sure
you’ll find something.”

Anna
was shell-shocked. Was this
punishment for Luminaria? It had to be. No one could be cruel
enough to let someone schlep all the way to a new city for a job
that no longer existed.

“Look, if this is about my cat,” she
tried.

“It is not about von Tippit. The Magical
Enforcement Council of Marchtown does not discriminate based on
heirloom contracts. The simple fact is, we found someone better for
the position, and we employed her. Your skills will still be useful
somewhere else.”

Just not here. Ha?

“Oh. Ah, good bye then,” she said
weakly.

Anna
slowly leaned down, grabbed up the
tuna can, hooked her bag over her arm, and walked out, Luminaria
following the still half-full tuna, mewing pleadingly.

“Good bye, Miss Summersville.” Aaron
didn’t look up from his book.

“I can't believe this,” Anna said softly
into the bottom of her drink. It wasn't that she couldn't believe
she'd downed her drink already. That was totally understandable.
The fact she’d lost her job, wasn’t. “How could I be so
unlucky?”

A few more patrons entered the bar, all
somehow looking grittier than the last. From black leather boots
with hex-wards scribbled into the soles, to magic-protecting shades
- they were a far cry from the law enforcement she was used to.

“Why exactly have you taken us to this
massively displeasing bounty-hunter bar?” Luminaria suddenly popped
her head out of Anna's patchwork-quilt bag and shot the nearest
patron a death glare.

“Because it's preferable to a dark-arts
bar.”

“To you, maybe. But you always have been a
soppy girl. When are you going to open your black wings and embrace
the dark, glorious side of life?”

“Never. I don't have enough money for
anything right now. And I know for a fact that the dark arts
require a lot of candles and black-velvet cloaks. That stuff can
add up real quick.”

“You are a soppy witch,” Luminaria
declared as she flashed her tail like an executioner wielding an
axe.