Witch for Hire (10 page)

"What's the story behind all the rest of this stuff?"

Rodriguez leaned back against the table. "A single guy turned in the toilet paper dispenser. The stapler was owned by a company and turned in after passing to a receptionist. She wasn't fond of being nipped all the time for doing her job. Apparently its definition of flirting is rather strict.
 

"The knife was in a pawn shop and we picked it up from the owner on a weekly check. Newlyweds figured out what was causing difficulties in their sex life and handed over the office chair. They were more than happy to be rid of something that caused them so many problems. I traced it back to the same company with the problematic stapler. They'd sold it after redecorating." I was chuckling at this point. "The pewter cup earned a bad rap at a themed restaurant. They were using it as a joke cup when an officer seized it."
 

His face fell. "The rest were a bit more sinister. The wooden bowl almost killed a child. Thankfully, the warlock at the hospital neutralized the poison. The vase did take someone's hand off. I got the hand back and the hospital fixed them up."

"Where did they get those from?" I really wanted to find some of the people who hexed these things and feed them to their own creations.
 

He shook his head. "They found them at a garage sale and secondhand shop. You know we can't fight garage sales and way too much stuff goes through most secondhand shops for us to check everything."

"I know. I just hate that people spell things and let the stuff loose on unsuspecting strangers. If you want to hex something to kill your spouse, fine, but don't hurt other people too. Not that I approve of spouse killing, just that you shouldn't be irresponsible with magical items." Great, now I sounded like an idiot and Rodriguez was laughing at me.
 

"Not well put, but good point. It's one thing if you want to use a magical item, but the next person who gets it may not be lucky enough to know what it does."
 

"Yah, that sounded better." I looked away before asking, "Is there anything you need my help on?"

"Now that you mention it, a colleague of mine in Ellijay had a few evil sensors go off, or go off line. I think it's gremlins, but I could be wrong. Any thoughts?"
 

"Anything you're leaving out?" Gremlins were annoying, troublesome, sometimes the forerunners of greater evil, but usually harmless.
 

"No, but you know how these things go."

He had a point. Often times, there wasn't a lot of warning during the growth of something nasty. It would be silly to waste resources on gremlins, but equally foolish to miss something dangerous.
 

"Was it in one area or all over?"

"Most of them were in one area, but a few of them were in the rest of town."

"I'd put a few better sensors near the main problem area, and keep a look out for gargoyles. There may be a few groups migrating through. I'd let the other departments know you want to talk to any gargoyles that pass through."

"Can you actually talk to them? I've never dealt with any gargoyles."

"Sure. They don't often speak English so you may need language spells, but they're very intelligent, and usually nice. Remember they guard against evil, and even reduce the power of evil. If you can find a large flock, and persuade them to roost here, it would help. Tell your friend to call me if anything else happens. I don't charge for chatting."

"I'll pass on the information. Are we on the clock or off?"

"Eh, off. I don't like to charge for talking. What's on your mind?"

"The local werewolf pack has been having a lot of dominance fights, sanctioned, of course, but the unrest is upsetting the rest of the pack. Nothing bad has happened, but I'm worried it's going to get serious or they're going to be taken over. I don't like the way things are going right now, but until recently the pack's been stable."

"I'll see what I can find out. People seem to be saying there's trouble, but they don't know what kind of trouble."

"Thanks. Also, I've been talking to a lot of the guys like me, hedge-practitioners, and we wanted to know if there was anywhere we could take some classes and learn better ways to use our power?" I studied him for a moment and he explained more, "Part of the reason we call you so often is because we don't know what to do, or how to do it, even if we do. Most of us were taught a few things by family members and ended up with this position because we could use magic."

"The police don't have a school for you?" I'd always thought that the police trained them and had procedure for them to follow.
 

"Yes, but they aren't very good. It's only been in the last fifteen years that we've been considered for these jobs. Before this there were more witches on staff. Then the clans held a big meeting and started setting up firms because they could make more money in industry or with their companies. Without witches in these jobs someone had to fill the gap. Every department has been managing the lack of witches differently, and there aren't enough hedge-practitioners to make things work in lower income areas or outside of cities."

"Huh. I didn't know that. What kind of class would you want?" I might be able to help them, but I wasn't sure.

"We want to start at the basics and go from there. None of us have a complete skill set. We need to be better practitioners. I don't want to end up like Cass."

Cass had been a hedge-wizard in South Georgia. He'd died after tangling with a charmed lamp. He'd had the ability to determine the type of spell, but not the training. The results of the investigation encouraged departments to hire people like me so they would have an expert on call. "I'll think about it, and talk to a few people. If I offer classes, I'll make sure everyone thinks it's my idea."

"Thanks, Michelle." A smile broke across his face. "I owe you."

"You do. Don't call me at three in the morning and we'll be even."

"No promises," he returned with a grin.

I headed out, with a growing to-do list. The werewolves were something to think about, but usually there was more smoke than fire. I'd fish for more information, but werewolf problems weren't my problem.

The map was my problem, and was turning into a pain in my rump. As annoying as it would be to drive to Forsyth for the map, I wanted to know why it wasn't working almost as much as the sheriff. Spells didn't usually give me this much trouble.
 

The classes were a way I could make a difference in other practitioner's lives. If they were well trained they would be better at their jobs, and I could spend less time on small things. I wouldn't mind acquiring more departments or being able to devote all my attention to one big case.

I didn't know the exact limitations of hedge-practitioners, or how to teach them the basics. Would the basics be the same for them? I needed to talk to my mom and to an old teacher of mine. It would be a good time to get their thoughts on the map spell and troll mess.

Seeing the car clock, I realized I didn't have enough time to go home before meeting the girls at Ronnie's Pizza. I'd be a little bit early but early was better than late for the first girl's night in weeks.

Pulling in to the parking lot, I was happy it didn't look too crowded. I sauntered in and settled at the big table in the back. It was our favorite table because it had room for the three of use to spread out and lots of space for food.
 

Tiffany arrived first, her short pixie accenting her delicate features. This month's color was a burgundy, which looked spectacular with her olive skin and brown eyes.
 

"Hey, darlin', how are you?" She slid in next to me, giving me a one-armed hug as she grabbed a menu.
 

I fished out two more menus, sticking one in Amber's seat. "I'm busier than I'd like to be. Do you know when . . . never mind. Amber's here."

"So, I'm the slow one today? That's rare. I guess you guys really missed me." Amber was striking, slender, cheerful, and born with silver hair.
 

"We just got here. Let's catch up after we order. What do you guys want?" Tiffany loved to eat.

"I'm getting bread sticks and a calzone with black olives, mushrooms, spinach, onions, pepperoni, and green olives." I loved that calzone.

"Oh," Amber looked so excited. "They have that bruschetta pizza again. I'm getting a medium so I can take leftovers home, and I'll get some garlic bread."
 

 
"That does sound good." Tradition was we each ordered a different dish so I would be getting a piece of the delicious pizza.
 

"The Italian sausage and pepperoni stuffed pizza is just too good to resist, and I'll get a large order of cheese rounds."

"Can I get drinks for you?" The waiter was cute and efficient. We ordered drinks and the mountain of food.
 

"I have to go first. Mark finally asked me out!" Amber squealed.
 

"We'll have to toast when the drinks get here." It didn't matter what we were drinking we always toasted good news.
 

"When's the first date?" Tiffany had a point. We'd been waiting for Mark to ask Amber out for a couple of months.
 

"Tomorrow. He's taking me out to dinner. He wouldn't say where, just that it was casual and we'd have fun there."
 

"A little surprise never hurt anyone. You'll have to tell us how it goes next week. I'm not letting another police emergency get between me and girl's night."

"What happened last week? We got your text but you didn't tell us what was going on." Tiffany always wanted to know what I was working on. Her curiosity made her a great private investigator. The waiter returned with the drinks

"We'd moved dinner to Thursday because Amber had to work late on Friday, right?" They nodded. "I missed last week because I was called to a house to remove a copper sun sculpture they'd recently acquired. It was shooting fireballs at everyone who tried to come in," I managed to finish without laughing.

Amber fought off the giggle long enough to ask, "Seriously?"

"I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I think a witch enchanted it as a door guard. The couple who purchased it didn't know it was so lively."

Tiffany looked sadly into her drink. "I never do anything that fun."

"Hon, you make twice what I do, maybe three times. What were the last three cases you worked, cheating spouses?"
 

"Yes."

"You get to keep fairly regular hours, and you're paid a lot of money to take pictures. If I didn't like this so much, I'd quit and work with you."

"You're both being silly." Amber was a peacemaker. "Michelle, you can't take a good picture to save your life. Tiffany, you can't do magic." We smiled and shrugged.
 

"How's the office?" Tiffany asked. Amber worked at a law firm as a paralegal in between turning furry, well feathery, once a month. She shifted into a peahen.
 

"Same as always. Nothing crazy good or bad. Have you guys heard about the werewolves?" Tiffany shook her head.
 

I answered because I wanted to know more. "I heard they were having trouble."
 

"Oh, yeah. They have problems. Everyone likes the current alpha, Simon, but his son, Adder, has been moving up and no one likes him. A few people think he's cool, but mostly he's strange. I mean really strange. Adder is bloodthirsty, violent, bad-tempered, and hell on four legs in a fight. The pack is worried that he's going to make a bid for alpha and kill his father. No one in the pack can take him out without challenging him, but they know they can't beat him in a fight." Amber paused for the arrival of the food.
 

We traded around bits of appetizers and gossip. "The other shifter's can take him out if he hurts someone outside of the pack. Until then, we should hope for his untimely demise." I wouldn't hold my breath. Shifters were hard to kill.
 

"Right. I'm hoping some third party, not bound by our rules, will fix this, but I doubt it. I'm worried. He's a bad one." The last crazy werewolf had killed fifteen people, and injured dozens, before the police arrested him. I had a bad feeling Adder was headed down that path, and the police would want me to be on the front line.

Michelle

"Dang it, mom, pick up your phone," I complained before the phone was tossed on the passenger seat. She hadn't answered last night or the three times I'd called this morning. I didn't usually show up at her house without warning, but I couldn't warn her if she didn't answer. Now, I was worried about her.
 

Rolling to a stop next to mom's car I tried to figure out why Mr. Richards' car was here. If it wasn't his car, I really wanted to meet the other person who had a "Clans and Spam: bad for the health" bumper sticker on an original VW Bug.
 

I walked up the steps of the brick house and mashed the doorbell. Nothing happened. I punched the little button a few times, and heard the annoying chime. Someone shuffled around inside, but the door wasn't answered. Exasperated, I banged on it. "Mom, let me in. I've been calling all day, this is silly."
 

Mom cracked open the door, blocking me from entering. "Michelle, I didn't know you were coming."

"You should have. I think I've called ten times." I pushed past her.

"That was you? I thought it was a wrong number." She reluctantly pushed the door closed behind me.
 

"It was me, Mom. Why didn't you answer?" Odd, her shirt and pants didn't match and she wasn't wearing any make up. Not that she needed any, but she liked to accent her auburn hair with a touch of green eyes hadow.
 

"I was busy."

"Busy with what? Is Mr. Richards here?" Mom and I might not always agree, but things were usually smoother.

"Just busy. No, why would you think that?"

I pointed out the window. "Because that's his car."