A Witch's Path
Authors: N. E. Conneely
A WITCH'S PATH
N. E. Conneely
Copyright © 2014 N. E. Conneely
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or author. Requests for permission to copy part of this work for use in an educational environment may be directed to the author. This book is a work of fiction. References to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons or locales, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For all the people who helped with this journey.
For Jasmine, who cuddled with me even when I wasn't petting her.
"Oaks Consulting, Michelle speaking," I said as I answered the phone.
"Hello, this is Patrick Westmoreland from the Gilmer County Sheriff's Office. Rodriguez said you could give me some advice."
"I'll be happy to try. What can I do for you?" A few weeks ago Rodriguez had asked me questions for Westmoreland. This was the first time I'd talked to Westmoreland and he sounded young.
"I'm still having trouble with the gremlins." Gremlins were small creatures that were often the first sign of an evil presence. They were tricksters and troublemakers. "We're seeing more of them and more of the sensors we deployed to detect evil are sounding alarms."
"If you're seeing more gremlins, it might be a good idea to add surveillance cameras where most of the alarms are being triggered. You may not see anything since those sensors can be tripped by energy surges."
"Wouldn't we see whatever is causing the energy surges?"
"Not necessarily, the source could be miles away."
"Shoot." He paused, before continuing, "Thank you, I think. Is there anything else I can do?"
"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Rodriguez. I'd try to attract a flock of Gargoyles."
"I don't speak gargoyle." Frustration laced his voice.
"I do. Rodriguez and I have spread the word that I'd like to talk to any flocks people see. Before you worry about money, I know you didn't ask me to talk to them. I'm looking for the gargoyles anyway. I have family in that area, and they're worried about the suicides. A positive presence, like gargoyles, would be a good thing."
"Thank you." He sighed. "Could you e-mail me your rates and any package deals you have? There are a few things I'd like to have a second opinion on, but I can't talk about them with anyone outside of the department. I've looked into a few other witches, but the department hasn't had room for them in the budget."
"Sure, I'd be glad to send over the information. I have hourly and case by case rates as well as a few packages. If none of those fit your department's needs, I'll be glad to talk about a plan specific to your requirements."
"That would be great." He rattled off an e-mail address.
"Oh, before you go. If you really need advice, you can give me a call. I love talking about 'what if's.'"
He laughed. "Thank you, I might take you up on that. Have a good day."
"You too." I hung up the phone, opened my e-mail, and sent him my information packet.
Reluctantly, I turned back to my paperwork. There was nothing I wanted to do less than type a detailed account of my last case. Reliving escaped trolls, dead humans (courtesy of hungry trolls), a near death experience, and death threats wasn't fun. I signed the last paper, and stuffed the pile of documents in an envelope. Tomorrow it would be on its way to the Forsyth County Sheriff's Office, and out of my life.
I'd thought finishing the paperwork would feel good, but I wasn't any happier than I'd been an hour ago. Picking up my phone, I called Amber. Days like this called for best friends.
"Hi, Michelle," Amber said.
"Hey, how are you? It's been a few days since we talked."
"I'm doing all right. I think the question is, how are you?"
"Sad? I'm not sure. Would you want to get coffee tonight? I could use some girl time." I said.
"Sure. The Coffee Time here in town? Say, six?"
"Perfect." Good company, and yummy food were what I needed.
"I'll see you then." She hesitated before saying, "I'm glad you called. I've been meaning to talk to you."
"You know I'm here for you, right?" She sounded off, like something was wrong.
"Yup. I need to get back to work. I'll tell you all about it tonight."
"See you then." Puzzled, I hung up the phone. With a shrug, I returned to my work; she would tell me everything this evening.
Two hours later, I got up from my desk. The business was doing better than I expected. Thanks to the trolls case, several new departments had contacted me and I had more clients than ever. A week ago, I would have complained about all the work, but these days work was good. It kept me from dwelling on the death threats. They were probably empty threats anyway.
Purse and keys in hand, I headed to meet Amber. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into Coffee Time's parking lot. Seeing her car, I hurried inside. Looking around, I spotted a redhead
at the corner table. I headed over, sure it was her; not many people had that hair color.
Amber jumped up, and hugged me. "It's so good to see you," she said.
I laughed. "It's good to see you too. Thanks for grabbing a table. This place is packed."
"No problem. Go get some food."
I draped my jacket over a chair. "Are you coming?"
"No, I already—"
"Chai Latte and chocolate croissant for Amber," the barista bellowed.
"You already ordered," I finished. While she retrieved her food, I got in line. As was my usual luck, I got stuck behind someone ordering three coffees, four lattes, a tea, and a hot chocolate.
"What can I get you?" The cashier asked. The poor girl looked exhausted after the last customer.
"Can I get a triple chocolate, no coffee, iced and blended latte, and a spinach and feta stuffed croissant?"
"Sure." She looked relieved to get a simple order.
After paying, I headed back over to our table. Amber was half way through her chocolate croissant, with glassy eyes of chocolate induced bliss.
"It's that good?" I asked.
Amber nodded, still chewing. I heard my name, walked over to the counter and grabbed my food. By the time I was back, her croissant was gone.
Amber studied me. "Is that case still bothering you?"
"Yes." The drink was as delectable as always, with chocolate milk, chocolate chunks, and chocolate syrup on top. "I don't know why, but I can't shake it. When I told everyone about the threats, I said it wouldn't change the way I live my life, but it has."
"Of course it has. Knowing someone wants you dead would change anyone's behavior."
"But that's the thing, Amber. No one in that case was going around killing people. It seems more like theatrics than anything else."
"And maybe it is, but you should still be careful."
I looked up from my food. "I am being careful. I've added extra protections to my apartment, and Landa did the same to the lodge. It's safe." Landa and her husband Mander owned the lodge. It was a bed and breakfast tailored to the needs of magical races and creatures. Most people stayed for a night or two, but I was one of the long-term residents.
Amber gripped my hand. "I know it's safe, you know it's safe, but that doesn't change the psychological effect of the threats. Who knows, maybe that's what they wanted to do, get inside your head."
That explanation fit what I knew better than anything else. Maybe I was overthinking everything and should let it go. If they wanted to hurt me, they knew where to find me. "Thank you."
"Hey, that's what friends are for," she smiled.
I studied her. Her face was paler than usual, with circles under her eyes. "What's going on with you? You sounded worried on the phone."
She played with her drink and avoided looking at me.
"What's going on, Amber?"
"Well, um, I'm sure it's nothing, but I think I'm being stalked."
"What! Why didn't you say something sooner?" I hadn't been the easiest person to talk to lately, but she could've told Tiffany. Tiffany was a private investigator, and this was the type of thing she dealt with every day.
Amber kept staring at her drink, as if it had answers.
"Did you tell Tiffany?" I asked.
She finally looked at me and shook her head. "No, I haven't told anyone else."
I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Ok, start at the beginning. What happened?"
"A few weeks ago, I started noticing odd things. At first it was a feeling, but once I started paying attention it was creepy. The same black jeep was behind me every day as I drove to work. Then I started seeing it when I was doing errands. After that, I started to see this one guy everywhere I went. About a week ago it got worse. The jeep followed me everywhere, and the guy was always around."
"Do you know who he is? Did you get a plate number on the jeep?" The police couldn't do anything without details.
Amber dropped her eyes, "I've never gotten a look at the plate. It's usually in my rearview mirror, and Georgia only issues rear plates. As for the guy, I don't know who he is. He looks kinda familiar, and I think he's a shifter."
Well, that was a help. "Why do you think he's a shifter?"
"It's the way he moves. I don't know how I know, but he's a shifter." Amber took a long drink, as if the latte would make everything better.
"Have you thought about going to the police?"
"With what? That a black jeep and a guy are following me? They can't do anything if they don't know who's stalking me."
I leaned against the table, wishing that life would give us a break. "You never know. They might be able to help."
Amber shook her head.
"What if Tiffany followed you? Then she could take pictures of the jeep and guy."
"No. I don't want her involved. She's no match for a shifter and I don't want her getting hurt."
"What can I do to help?" I asked.
"I don't think you can do anything. I wanted to talk about it to see if you could think of something," Amber said.
"You haven't liked any of my ideas." I wanted to help, but she was tying my hands.
"I know." She pouted. "I'm probably imagining it. Odds are we work, live, and shop in the same areas. Canton isn't that big of a town. It could happen."
I looked her in the eye. "Are you trying to convince me or you?"
Amber dropped her eyes. "Both? Can we please talk about something else?"
Rolling my eyes, I started my yearly rant about how much I disliked the winter, all the while trying to figure out if coincidence could stretch so far.
*******
The next morning, I hurried through breakfast and back to my office. Two hours later, I'd made more healing charms, added several oils and herbs to my kit, and was back at the paperwork.
Someone knocked on my door, and I called out for them to enter. It wasn't locked. Landa walked in carrying a small tray.
"I thought you could use a snack. You didn't eat much at breakfast and I was worried about you." She set the tray on the coffee table before pouring each of us a cup of tea.
"Thank you. I was thinking about things and didn't eat as much as I should've." I picked up a plate with half an egg salad sandwich, and a thick slice of gingerbread cake. She settled next to me on the couch.
"Not a problem, dear. I worry about you. You've been a bit different since the dreadful events with the trolls."
Looking at her large green eyes, set in a small, brown face, it was easy to forget her age. She often seemed tiny and childlike, but Landa was a brownie, hundreds of years old and still in her prime. "Knowing how close I came to dying, for such foolish reasons, has made me rethink things. I love my job. Working with the police is fun and interesting, but I think I forgot that my job is to provide magic. I'm not a cop or hero. I'm simply magical support."