Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel (2 page)

“You’re two days late on rent.” Frankie was a little curt, but having a Were family managing your apartment building was pretty nice. They were a built-in security system. Their thicker skin kept them immune from most magics, and their inhuman strength made them a formidable first line of defense against robbers. Hell, the human police had to come up with a whole new formula for their bullets since lead had no effect on them. However, lead did incapacitate the Fae, so the human police had to carry double now. As for witches? Our DNA was almost identical to humans, so anything fired out of the barrel of a gun would cut us down just as easily.

“Yeah,” I said, digging out the cash. “Sorry about that, but I got it covered now.”

“No checks.” She glanced sidelong at me, her pupils dilating, stealing the grey of her eyes. I swallowed, trying not to let my nerves show.

“Right,” I said, remembering what happened the last time my check bounced. I still needed to patch that hole in my kitchen wall. “I have cash.”

“Fifty dollar late fee.” Frankie was a woman of few words and finely manicured nails.

“Fifty! Are you serious?” I demanded, checking my voice a little late. Frankie closed her magazine, set it on the counter top, and turned her full attention to me. Not something I really wanted, to be honest with you. I suddenly felt two feet tall under the larger woman’s stare.

“Twenty five dollars each day it’s late,” she said slowly. “You’re two days late. Twenty five times two is what?”

“Fifty,” I said with a sigh, pulling out more cash and seeing my grocery list shrink in my mind as I handed over the money. Frankie took a moment to count it in front of me, being very deliberate as she laid out each bill, the tips of her nails clicking on the countertop. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket, not wanting her to see the chipping blue polish. She went so far as to pull out one of those highlighter pens the human bank tellers used to check for counterfeit bills.

My stomach knotted up. It hadn’t occurred to me that Jimmy might’ve pulled a fast one and passed me fake notes. She marked each bill with a quick tick, each one showing the same yellowish-brown color. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing until Frankie gathered them up and shoved them under her collar and into her cleavage.

“See ya, Mattie,” she said, effectively dismissing me. I blew out the breath I had been holding and made my way to the door that led to the stairwell to the street. Ronnie’s shop was the ground floor of our building, but you had to go out to the street in order to get to it.

It was cold and wet outside after the first rain of the season. I smelled the salt on the sidewalk as I turned toward Ronnie’s door. I saw her through the window. She was just pulling down the shade and closing up for the rest of the night but hadn’t locked the front door yet. Her tiny silver bells jingled merrily, announcing my arrival as the door fell closed behind me.

“Hey, Mattie,” Ronnie greeted me with a smile, climbing out of the window display. Ronnie and I were only a few months apart in age, having come up through school together, but she had the ageless face of a child. I always wondered if she had a little pixie blood, but her long, curly, orange-red hair was too thick to ever belong to a pixie.

“Heya, Ron,” I said, returning her hug.

“I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted. I’m closing up early.” She started toward the back of the shop where the cash register was.

“No problem.” I followed her. Ronnie kept her shop well stocked with too many shelves that threatened to spill over if customers weren’t careful with their purses or elbows. “I really just wanted to settle up.”

“Oh?” Ronnie glanced at me over her shoulder, not in the least bit worried about walking into anything. I didn’t blame her skepticism. In the last couple of months, I’d only been making enough money to keep a roof over my head and enough food in my belly to keep from starving – and sometimes not even that much. If I hadn’t been her best friend, she wouldn’t have let me keep my tab open so long.

“Yes,” I said as we reached the counter. Once again I dug through my purse, pulling out money. Ronnie’s eyes went wide at the sight of the bills. I knew she didn’t actually believe I had enough to cover the whole tab.

“Where’d you get it?” she asked, taking the stack of bills. I smiled when she put it into the safe under the counter without counting it like Frankie had.

“Troll,” I said casually, digging into my purse for the emerald. Why is it, when you’re looking for something, every purse becomes bottomless?

“What’d you do? Rob him?” she asked, laughing lightly.

“No, no.” I felt the edge of the gem and closed my hand around it. “He wanted an expensive charm, and before I could give him a price, he started throwing money at me.”

“Stupid bridge dweller,” she said, shaking her head.

“He also gave me a handful of jewels, and I thought you might like this one.” I held up the rich green stone between my thumb and forefinger, enjoying Ronnie’s slaw-jawed reaction.

“Oh, no, Mattie, we’re square,” she said quickly, waving her hands at me.

“Ronnie, he gave me a whole pouch full, please.” I reached out, grabbed her hand, and put the stone into her palm, closing her fingers over it. “Besides, it matches your eyes.” She laughed at that, opening her palm and looking at the emerald. I could tell she wanted to argue about it some more, but she kept her mouth closed, finally clutching it to her chest.

“Thanks,” she said before tucking it away into a charm box. She tapped the box with her finger, locking it up tight.

“Thank you,” I said, swinging my purse strap back on my shoulder. “No one else would’ve let me keep a tab open as long as you did.”

“Eh.” She shrugged, pulling her purse out of its hiding place behind the counter. “I knew you were good for it.” Maybe she knew that, but I didn’t. It had been a lean couple of months. The only thing that kept me going was knowing Samhain was around the corner, and business was always much better around the holidays.

We walked to the front of the store. Ronnie locked the door with keys and a similar freezing spell before I helped her pull the metal grate down. She locked it to the ground, spelling it closed too.

“Wanna grab a bite?” she asked as she straightened up, tugging at the edge of her jean skirt, straightening it over her black tights.

“Yeah, actually,” I said, thinking about the lack of groceries in my apartment. It would be nice to have a hot meal before I tried to buy food. The gods only knew what I would end up bringing home if I went shopping that hungry.

Ronnie dropped her keys into her purse and slung it over her head so the strap went across her body, and we headed down the street. It was nearing one o’clock, but the street was still busy with people, mostly supernaturals, going about their nightly routines. It had been over seventy years since our races came out of hiding and started living openly with humans. World War II might have had an entirely different outcome if the Gremlins hadn’t started the Wave of Revelation with their uncanny metal working, developing new ammunition, planes, and helmets for the Allied Forces.

Sadly, despite our efforts to make the transition from myth to reality as painless as possible for the humans, trying to adopt their habits and traditions, we were all still living in a tenuous community. Many humans still didn’t trust us, and we were often scapegoats for crimes and tragedies. There were factions of human-run hate groups that targeted us on a regular basis until we started living in separate neighborhoods, like the one Ronnie and I lived and worked in. Our neighborhood, Havencrest, was an area we had carved out of West Hollywood, but most of West Hollywood was dominated by supernaturals now, even spilling over to the rest of Los Angeles. The fairies especially loved Southern California for the year-round sunshine.

There were plenty of humans excited and eager for us to assimilate into the human community, hoping our magical powers and the beauty of some of our races would bring about a whole new race. So far, only some of the supernatural races could breed easily with humans, like witches and Weres – the races that share some of the same genetic code as humans. Jimmy was one of the rarer breeding occurrences. Unfortunately for Jimmy, their genetic gamble hadn’t worked out. He was short and narrow, whereas most trolls were very tall and broad. He kept the batwing ears and receding hair line, his face was mostly human, and his skin was a greenish gray. All in all, an unfortunate mix.

Witches had the easiest time blending in. Other than our propensity to sleep during the day and wake at night, we had no obvious traits that made us look anything other than human. My grandmother told me the natural inclination to sleep during the day was a left over habit from the Dark Ages and having to do all our spell work at night. It was just natural, unless you needed to perform Sun magic, which I rarely did. As a woman, I liked to work with Moon magic. I couldn’t imagine being forced to hide my true nature and work magic in secret. I mean, it was as a part of me as my liver or kidney. I just couldn’t live without it.

Ronnie and I made it to The Brownie’s Bite, the corner diner on our block, in a matter of minutes. The warm air rushed over us, scented with bacon and chocolate and making my mouth water. I waved to Fin, the Brownie woman behind the counter, as we seated ourselves in a booth by the window. Fin brought us a couple of menus and two Hobgoblin ales without being asked. She slipped away, giving us a chance to look over the choices.

Personally, I didn’t really need time; I was so excited to have a meal out of the house I had already decided what I wanted before we even made it inside. I tried not to bounce in my seat with impatience as Ronnie pursed her lips, trying to decide what she wanted.

“So, who was the troll? Someone we know?” Ronnie’s eyes went up and down the menu. I stared at her for a moment, not wanting to answer, because if we got caught up in a conversation, it would take her that much longer to choose her meal.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, pausing to take a sip of my beer. “It was Jimmy.”

“Oh, the
half
-troll,” she said, glancing up at me, and I nodded.

“Dude,” I said, my rumbling stomach finally getting the best of me, “you know you’re just going to order the same thing you always do. Can we just get on with it?”

“Impatient much?” Ronnie shot back, one red brow arching.

“No, starving much.” I signaled Fin with two fingers.

“What’ll it be, ladies?” Fin asked, her dirt brown hands holding a ticket pad and pen. I looked at Ronnie, giving her a chance to order first.

“Grilled cheese with tomatoes and tomato soup, please.” Ronnie ordered her usual with a little eye roll for me.

“Double bacon cheese burger with a fried egg on top,” I ordered quickly.

“Fries?” Fin asked, her thin eyebrows arching.

“Oh yeah,” I said excitedly.

“That’s a lot of meat,” Ronnie said after Fin took our menus and headed for the kitchen.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed, reaching for my beer and picking at the label. I refused to join in the staring contest I felt Ronnie trying to start and stared resolutely at my bottle.

“Anyway,” she finally said, reaching for her own bottle and taking a sip, “what did Jimmy want that was so expensive?”

“A charm to catch a fairy.” I took another sip of the spicy ale, enjoying the feel of the bubbles bursting in my mouth.

“What?” Ronnie nearly spit out the sip she’d taken, making her cough violently. She pounded the table and blinked back the tears the carbonation caused.

“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “That’s about how I felt about it.”

“Mattie, you didn’t.”

“What?” I shrugged. “It’s just a little charm. Even if he does find a token, you know whatever he asks for, the fairy will find a way to punish him with it.”

“Aren’t you worried it’ll come back to you?”

“Not really,” I said, pushing my bottle away. I didn’t want to drink too much on an empty stomach. “I mean, how could it? I didn’t do anything wrong. Jimmy’s the one wanting to catch one; he’ll be the one to pay the price.”

“I don’t know,” Ronnie said slowly. Before she could argue about it further, Fin was back with our plates, sliding them in front of us. I was aware of an excess of saliva in my mouth when the scent of bacon and red meat wafted up.

Ronnie picked up her spoon and dipped it into her soup, but she stopped short of her mouth when she saw me lift my burger with two hands, ketchup dripping between my fingers, and take a huge, unladylike bite. The yolk of the egg burst, adding a whole new creamy texture. I groaned in satisfaction.

“You know,” she said, one eyebrow arching again as she watched me, “over nine billion animals are killed every year for food.”

“Wow,” I said as I swallowed, earning another sneer from my best friend. “That is a lot.”

“The Hindus revere cows.”

“Me, too,” I said, taking another bite.

“They remind people to think about how many people a cow can feed with its milk instead of how few people it can feed with its meat,” she said before finally sipping her soup from the dripping spoon.

“That’s deep,” I said, wiping away the drip of ketchup and yolk from my chin. Ronnie rolled her eyes again and shook her head, but fortunately, she let the subject drop so I could enjoy my spot at the top of the food chain.

***

When we got to our apartment building, Ronnie broke away from me as I continued on to the corner food market. She lived one floor above me, but unlike me, she owned her apartment and didn’t have to worry about encountering Frankie. The corner market wasn’t a big store like the ones humans had in their neighborhoods, but it was brightly lit and warm inside. I had a field day buying whatever food my little heart desired, even treating myself to some imported Irish cheese and Dutch chocolates.