Witch for Hire (29 page)

One man, known as Jones, cried, his tears falling on the circle. The tears of sorrow, and hope, did what anger could not. The protective circle opened, allowing him access to the witch. He cried harder when they realized she was alive. Two witches stabilized her as paramedics rushed to pick her up. Jones carried the ring of plants to a grassy spot, breaking the ground so they could root.
 

Michelle

"Oh, good, it's you. Do you have my clothes?"
 

Jones looked around in confusion. "Um, I guess."

"I was told you had my clothes. Well, I was told you checked me out of the hotel, and packed my stuff in my car. I want my clothes so I can go home."

"Michelle, your clothes are in the car. You're in a hospital. I don't think you should be leaving yet."
 

"Nonsense, I'm fine. I've been here since last night. The doctors looked at me and the nurses woke me up every hour. My parents called to see how I was, and promised to have a serious talk with me when I was better. According to the doctor I have, at worst, a mild concussion, some scrapes, singed spots, a body full of bruises, and no reserve of power."

"I still don't think you should go home."

"Jones," I sighed. "I'm going home if I have to walk there in this stupid backless gown. Please bring me clothes."

"I'll be right back," he said.
 

He huffed as he walked out of the room. I wasn't sure what all the fuss was about. Other than the police and FBI being a tad late to the scene, it had worked out fine. Not that I remembered them arriving, but they had.
 

However, I'd learned my lesson. I wouldn't be repeating the experience any time soon. Without a doubt I wasn't suited to scary, life and death situations, where my life was in peril. My job was to assist the police. Not be a hero. Most heroes died horribly and tragically at a young age. I planned to live a long, boring life.
 

I picked at the sheets and the lousy excuse for a robe while he was gone. I hated hospitals. They smelled bad, and lacked the comforts of home. I wanted the trees and gardens around me, Landa's cooking, and even the annoying elf.
 

Jones tossed a duffel in, waiting outside as I slipped in to real clothes. Every bit of me was stiff and scraped. The burns weren't bad, though I hadn't gotten a good explanation as to why they hadn't fully healed. Something about how only so much energy should be pulled through tissue at one time. I couldn't find a way to sit or bend without aching. I hadn't looked in a mirror, not wanting to see the scrapes on my face. Pulling my hair back into a pony tail was more difficult than expected. Socks and shoes were also difficult.
 

I walked out of the room with my duffel and purse in hand. I was getting out of here.
 

Jones followed me. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I'm fine. I want to go home."
 

"Let me buy you breakfast."
 

Looking at him, I could see the shadowed eyes, and deepened worry lines. "You were worried?"

"Go check out. I'll give you my version over breakfast."
 

He clearly wanted to tell me something, but didn't want to do it standing in a hospital hallway. Following his suggestion, I went to check out. Thirty minutes and five hundred forms later, we were sitting at a booth at a diner eating breakfast. It was breakfast for me, but at nine-thirty it might be a morning snack for him.
 

"Jones, you look worse than I feel. What's wrong?" For a normally cheerful man, his aura was dark. While I waited for him to talk I savored a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit.

"What's the last thing you remember?"
 

"Um, smashing on the pavement." I wasn't sure I wanted to hear this.
 

He frowned, thinking. "The sorceress is Carrie. She was one of the girls at the chicken farm."
 

"Thank you. It took me a little while, but I figured out she was one of those kids."
 

"Not surprising, you never met her, just heard part of an interview."
 

"She said we'd met, but I guess she was using the term loosely," I said.

Jones nodded. "You were around her a few times, but I don't think you ever spoke."

"Good to know. What happened last night?"

"I'm getting to it." He paused to drink some coffee. "When I arrived, and I was one of the first officers there, you were laid out on the ground. A vine of ivy, briars, and a few other things had circled you. The human, Brian, tried to break the circle, first with a rock and then with his hands. When we dragged him away he was shouting that he would kill you. Along with the FBI, we rounded everyone up."

In the middle of his monologue I stopped eating, starting to feel sick, knowing I hadn't done anything to activate that circle. I should've been dead. I had to clear my throat twice before I could speak. "Ho-How long was he trying to kill me?" Jones looked at the table and muttered, but I couldn't hear it. "What?"

"Ten minutes." He kept looking out the window to my left, like I couldn't tell he was upset. "It, uh, turns out we weren't getting a direct feed. The computer geeks haven't told me what happened, but we had a five minute lag. I thought you were dead. I was outside that circle trying to figure out how to break it when it fell on its own." He dabbed his eyes.
 

I took several deep breaths, and then took a few more for good measure. I'd done nothing to make those plants grow, or form a circle. Generally, magic didn't work that way. Not that I was going to argue. I'd never been so grateful for a quirky piece of magic.

He continued, "I planted it after they took you away. If you want, we can look at it before you leave."
 

I nodded, not sure what to say. I'd nearly died because I'd forgotten about an enemy. I shivered, pulled on my coat, and took a drink of my tea. "What did you do with the trolls, humans, and sorceress?"

"The feds took almost everyone. The trolls will be going back to the preserve, and we get to keep Brian. We'd also rounded up several other members of that group who were slowly making their way to you. We're holding them, but I'm not sure who's going to end up charging them."

Lapsing into silence, I forced the food down, needing to eat to restore the energy I'd spent. Feeling a little ill after learning about my close brush with death didn't change that. When it was clear I didn't have anything to say, or left to eat, Jones herded me back to the car. He'd driven me to breakfast, and I wasn't sure where to find my car. He pulled in to the police station, and I could see my car a few spaces over.
 

"This way," he said, walking away from my car.
 

Following him through the same, though very clean, parking lot I'd spent such a scary night in was surreal. It looked exactly the same, but wildly different. The daylight revealed what darkness had hidden; spots, lines, gum, and every detail of the surrounding landscape. The lights were working again, emitting a faint glow. I could almost feel my body impacting the pavement.
 

I should have died on this ground. By the grace of the earth, I was alive, and I didn't know what saved me. With goose bumps on my arms, I knew it would be months before I could look at this place and not see last night. The images were already flashing through my mind, bringing back the fear and doubt I'd had. Night would be worse. I didn't want to be here at night; memories might take over, making me forget that I'd escaped.
 

He stopped at a bald patch of ground with a large ring of plants. Kneeling down I ran a finger across one of the leaves. I could see little roots sprouting along the bottom of the circle. Pushing a string of power out to taste the plants told me my blood had gone into them, but something else had fueled them too. All of my blood could have spilled through their seeds and they'd never sprout. From their energy, I knew they'd grow for many years to come.
 

On the ground, I took a moment to reaffirm my bond with the earth, spirits of nature. I thanked them, feeling their love and power fill my spirit. With my hands pressed to the bare earth I knew it was happy, glad to feel my presence, and welcoming me home. I also knew it would have welcomed my cooling body, not as gladly, but still welcomed me back.
 

I hugged Jones. "Thank you. I'm so sorry I scared you." His aura lightened, thankful I wasn't blaming him. Backing away I held his gaze, "Never again. I'm not the right person for crazy stuff."

"Deal."

"Keys?" He dropped them in my hand. "I'll have my report for you in a few days. Until then, don't call."
 

"Can't promise, but I'll try."

"Fair enough."
 

Michelle

I'd settled on the sofa when someone knocked on my door. I'd been astonished when my phone didn't have a single message for me, but I wasn't counting on that to last, so it was sitting next to me for easy access when it rang. "Come in," I yelled. I hadn't locked the door, knowing someone would knock. They could come to me. My heavily medicated body wasn't moving from this rather cozy position.
 

The door swung open showing Landa burdened by a big tray. "The house told me you were back. I've brought you tea and a snack." She set the tray on the coffee table.
 

"Thank you."
 

"Not a problem, dear. You look terrible. If you need anything just call me."

"It looks worse than it is."

She cocked her head to the side, not believing me. "I'm sure it does. I'm sorry about the flower, as soon as the elf returns I'll send him in here to deal with it."

"My bathroom still looks like a horticultural experiment gone awry?" I'd been gone for several days and it hadn't been fixed? What did the elf have to do with any of this, other than giving me the flower in the first place? "Why does he need to fix it?"

"Darling, I'd thought you'd seen it." Her cheeks hollowed, showing her aggravation at her inability to fix the flower. "I can't remove the flower. He wants to talk to you about it, something about the flower being stable, external forces at work. He thinks some spell you cast affected the flower. He wants to look at it and sample it before he removes it."
 

Realizing my jaw hadn't closed and my eyes were drying from air exposure, I pulled myself together. "My bathroom isn't a garden project. I want it gone."

"I know, but I wanted you to know if he was going to be in your apartment. If need be, I'll stand over him with a poker, but he'll fix this mess tonight."

I'd seldom heard the worry I found in her voice. Sighing, I tried to let my frustration go. She'd done the best she could, and I wouldn't be half as annoyed if I was healthy. "Not your fault. Thank you for taking care of me. This tray will make a lovely lunch."

She kissed the top of my head. "I know dear, bad timing. I'll leave you to rest. Call if you need me."
 

"Landa," I didn't want her to leave without hearing how I felt. "Thank you for taking care of me, really. It makes me feel so much better."

"Not a problem. Your parents are here." Mom and Dad came in as Landa slipped out, closing the door behind her.
 

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Gre-Dad." He deserved better than to be called his given name. "I thought you were coming over tomorrow?"

"We were worried. You talked us out of visiting you at the hospital, but we needed to see you." Mom gave me a hug and settled on the sofa next to me.
 

Dad stood off to the side, shifting his weight. "Would you like a hug, Dad?"

He gave me a small smile. "Yes."
 

His arms barely touched me, as if he knew even a gentle squeeze would hurt. I patted the cushion next to me. Dad sat down.

"How are you feeling? You look dreadful."
 

"Thanks, Mom. I've felt better. In a day or two I'll be back to normal."
 

She laid a hand on my arm. "I doubt it. You left out most of your injuries when you told us what happened. Why didn't they heal you?"

I looked at the wall behind her. "I didn't want you to worry. They said it wouldn't be a good idea to push that much energy through me since I'd depleted my reserves."

"Well, I can't say I agree. Why don't I finish healing you?"

"No, Mom. I think I should keep the bruises for a while, to remind me that my job is magical support—nothing more."

Seeing Mom's narrowed eyes, Dad jumped in. "Not a bad idea, Michelle. I know fighting didn't seem like a good idea after my cousin blackened both my eyes. Now, what gave you the idea that you should go after a sorceress?"

"It's my job?" I offered, hoping it would satisfy them. Their matching glares said they didn't buy it. "I don't know. It didn't seem like a bad idea at the time. Please don't lecture me. I learned my lesson, and have the injuries to prove it."

They exchanged a look over my head. "Very well." Mom said. "But, you don't have to work with the police. There are other options."

"I like my job. I get to help people, and see something new every day." Having one parent give you disappointed looked, was bad enough. With both of them giving me the look, it made me want to hide in my room."

"Nancy, stop pestering our child. Michelle, if you change your mind about this job, please talk to us. Your mother's right, there are other options."

"If I want to change jobs I'll talk to you." I'd promise anything to make the guilt trip stop.

"Good. Now, we need to talk about the classes I'm helping you teach."

From the look he gave me, I suspected he knew I was tired of the guilt trip. Dad and I swapped ideas for thirty minutes before Mom decided it was time for them to leave. I gave Dad a long hug before he left. I was lucky to have a father who would rescue me.
 

After they left, I snacked on the triangular turkey sandwiches, flipped through channels, and finally settled on the Science Fiction channel, falling asleep to a show about a world populated only by humans with no magic. The show was easy to doze to and I learned a few things about humans in between naps. Shortly after hearing that making fire would be challenging in a primitive setting, complete with footage of a theoretical human tribe attempting to make fire from sticks, my phone rang.