Gwen really should stop smoking, a thought she had for a hundred times already as she puffed out a steady stream of white smoke like a dragon. The crisp cold air of mid-October outlined the fume in vivid clarity as it exited through her lips. She picked up the habit two years ago, it was an on-and-off thing at first. But lately, she has been getting real into the habit. She tells herself that she'd be able to quit if she wanted to. But a voice somewhere inside her head says that it won't be as easy as she thinks.
She has been getting those a lot lately too. Disembodied voices. The smoking helps a bit to drown them out. The more she smoked, the less the voices persisted.
Maybe there's a correlation there?
The sound of shoes against gravel alerted her. She has been doing this awhile now that she could tell how many there were. Out from the shadows of the Phil’s Mart, came students. The familiar uniforms of Curnow-Slater with their blue tartan skirts and vest walked out. That brought back some memories. Her dad had once talked about sending her out there on the prep school thirty-minute drive outside of town. She sighed. Didn’t think that the mere sight of a school uniform could dredge some memories. She took one last long drag of her cigarette and tossed the butt on the ground, stomping it for good measure.
The two girls were younger, at least a year behind Gwen. They looked like rabbits ready to bounce or that this was a drug deal. She almost laughed to herself at the thought. Her boots made her taller by a few inches and the leather jacket and piercings didn’t really provide a welcoming aura- - by God, she really did look like a drug dealer. The dangerous-rocker-chick vibes kind of dealer.
“Jesus, would you relax? This is not a drug deal.” Gwen told the two, their eyes casting back and forth as if a cop would pop out of the dumpster. "Look you either step forward or not, what’s it gonna be?"
"Hey uhm..." The blonde one came forward, face almost familiar. Emswell Island didn’t have more than 3,000 people. Gwen might not know her name but there’s always that familiar face you see as you walk around town. She was quite pretty and her clothes looked tailor-made for her. Which meant good solid cash, not credit. Students made up much of her customer base, most from the local public high school. And of course, the occasional preppy from down the road that didn’t want to have their credit cards confiscated by an overbearing parent because of schoolwork.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Look, we need a charm or something. We have midterms coming up and a crap ton of quizzes in between. Can you help us out?" Blonde said. Her friend, a redhead in a pixie cut tried to look busy, turning her phone on and off and glancing at the pebbles as if she was considering a career in geology.
"I need you to be more specific than that. Something to help you concentrate and study? Keep you awake as you pull all nighters- -"
“I need something to help me ace a test…” Blondie cut in.
"No problem. Although it’ll take me two days to conjure up the charm and gather the items of power- -"
“….The test is in two hours.”
Now that, was a problem. Gwen absolutely hated it when customers want rush orders. This type of things are dangerous when rushed. She glanced up and saw Blondie and her friend took a step back.
Gwen collected herself, took a deep breathe, and relaxed. Whenever her mood worsens, it manifests in more ways than one. Practicing magic has that effect on the soul, as if the fabric separating the physical and spiritual gradually softens the more you practice the craft. An electricity to the air or the natural light around her getting sucked in. Or in this case, her hair started floating even when there wasn't any gust of wind present.
"Then, I can't help you. Sorry," Gwen turned her back and began walking off to her next appointment.
"Oh come on! Please! Is there anything you can do?" Blondie pleaded.
"No." Gwen was about to pull herself over the wire fence, reaching atop.
"I'll pay double! No, triple!"
Gwen stopped. That was too good to pass up. And she needed the money.
She turned around and stalked up towards Blondie and Red, mere inches away from their faces. Red grasped Blondie's elbow for support, afraid that Gwen might put a curse on them like some witch. Which, Gwen was not, strictly speaking. She was just a dabbler. But these girls don't know that.
"Do you really want this? Because it's going to cost you more than just money." Gwen uttered with as much venom as she could, drawing up that drug-dealer persona the girls perceived.
"W-what are you talking about? What do I have to pay?" Blondie stammered, face almost white with dread.
"I'm gonna have to take a piece of your lifeforce." Gwen left it hanging there, and let it sink in their heads. Their faces were dire, as if they had been told that one of them has cancer.