Well, I was still alive when I came to, which was a definite bonus. Unexpected too, to be fair.

We looked to be in the back room of the shop. A storage room, judging by the stacked boxes that filled most of the space. I had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor while Becca sat on a plastic chair, talking with the black man.

The pain in my head had already faded to a dull ache and I pushed myself up, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in my wrist.

“Seriously!” I snapped, looking down at the leather strap wrapped tightly around my wrist. Iron studs a centimetre apart ran the length of the strap and with each movement of my hand, I could feel the sharp iron points digging deeper into my flesh. “Was this necessary?”

“Yes,” the witch said, without looking my way.

If I were honest, I would admit that I’d have done the same. It was a weakness of our race that iron could disrupt our ability to use our magic. So long as the iron pierced out flesh at least.

The strap that I wore on my left wrist was common amongst those who hunted our kind, designed to be difficult to take off without magic as it was sealed with a spell-lock, and with the iron studs piercing our flesh just enough to disrupt any chance of casting a spell.

I’d been a fool. It was with some chagrin that I could admit that. I had lived my life in the coven and hadn’t understood what the world was like. Not really.

When I had faced a Hedge Witch, one of those witches that either couldn’t find a coven to take them or without the desire to build their own. I had done so with the full power of my coven behind me.

I had been stronger in my magic and I had faced those who knew that if they tried to fight me, then they would face the wrath of my coven.

That was no longer the case.

I was alone. I was vulnerable, and for the first time in a lot of years, I was really quite helpless.

Which sucked, as I had never needed to be the sort of person others liked. I didn’t need to be. Others sought me out for the benefits I could bring them either due to my position in the coven or my family wealth and power.

I had been surrounded by ‘friends’ my whole life and never once realised how fake they had all been. At least not until now, when I was truly alone, and without an apparent ability to charm and befriend people.

My eyes flicked towards Becca. Almost alone.

“Why am I not dead?”

“Shush,” Becca said, not looking my way. She continued to speak to the witch for a few minutes more before he nodded curtly and she smiled. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking him? He tried to kill us!”

“No, he tried to kill you,” Becca said, smiling sweetly. “But it was a misunderstanding.” She looked back at the witch. “Right?”

“Yes.” The witch coughed into his hand and crossed the space between us. He crouched down beside me and reached for the wristband.

Up close he smelt strongly of cigarette smoke and too sweet incense. An unpleasant mixture that had me wrinkling my nose as he waved his fingers over the leather strap and whispered a few words.

It came apart and he carefully prised the iron points out of my skin before standing and carrying the offensive item away.

“Thanks,” I muttered, rubbing at my wrist. “I ask again, why am I still alive?”

“Awasom Mushiya,” the witch said, inkling his head towards me. “I apologize for my actions.”

I squinted at him, scrutinizing his face. He appeared sincere but then, all witches were liars, so I wasn’t quite ready to take him at face value.

“Cameroonian name,” I said. “Right?”

He appeared surprised but nodded, smile growing on his face showing straight white teeth. “Yes, few recognise that.”

“How did you know?” Becca asked.

“Part of my studies,” I said, looking away. “There were several well-known witches from the area that my family had an interest in.”

Well, that wiped the smile off of Awasom’s face and he scowled back at me while Becca just looked between us, confusion writ large. I chuckled and lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “You asked.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, flashing a shit-eating grin at the other witch. Anger flared in his eyes and I had to mentally remind myself that he had already kicked my ass once. “Okay, think we’re done here.”

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“No!” Becca said. “You need his help.”

“I will not help.”

“But you said…”

“No.” Awasom cut the air between us with his hand, a gesture of finality. “Leave my shop and do not return.”

“Please,” Becca said, as I climbed back to my feet. I was a little shaky and my legs trembled but I could stand unaided. “You don’t understand.”

Awasom was already headed back to his shop, through a door to my right, and I followed him with a protesting Becca right behind me.

“I will not help you,” Awasom stated again as I pulled Becca away from the counter. “Just leave.”

“We can pay,” she said desperately.

“We can?” I cocked an eyebrow her way. I’d had a quick look in Jen’s purse and it was decidedly empty.

“I have some money. Just one of your spell books. Please.”

The old witch looked us over disdainfully and sniffed. He shook his head. “One thousand pounds and I will give you a grimoire.”

“That’s ridiculous! We don’t have that much.”

“Two thousand.” He pointed at the door. “If you do not leave it will be three thousand.”

“Come on.” I pulled at Becca’s arm and reluctantly she allowed herself to be dragged to the door.

I made sure to step around the symbol this time while Becca walked through it blithely unaware of the danger it presented. As we walked along the balcony she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and sullenly pouted.

She waited until we were out of the shopping arcade before she let her anger spill out, surprising me with it and causing a few people to look our way as she gestured with her hands and shouted quite loudly.

“Why are you so mad at me?” I asked, which was, apparently, entirely the wrong thing to say.

There were a few more choice words and several loud expletives before she stormed off to calm down. I figured it was best to leave her be and wandered over to a metal bench and sat down to wait.

“Lovers tiff?”

I glanced back at the leering teen and rolled my eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Hey! Be nice, love.”

It was so very not the time to try and hit on me. I looked up at him and forced a smile. He reached up to push back the hood of his hoodie and revealed a pimply face with a mop of reddish curls on top of his head.

I stood up and even then, he was a good foot taller than me. His leer widened as he leaned in. “What’s your name?”

“Does it matter?” I asked, smiling in what I hoped was an inviting manner. “How would you like to make me feel better?”

“How’d I do that, then?”

I reached up, cupping the back of his head with one hand and pulling him gently towards me. His cheeks flushed as his lips hovered inches away from mine, close enough that he could feel the heat of my breath on his skin.

There was a warmth growing in my breast, an excitement that I hadn’t felt for some time. I held him there, letting the tension build as he placed a hand on my waist and my smile widened.

“Teimlwch boen y colledig ar eich croen.” I whispered, the Welsh curse slipping easily from my tongue.

“Huh?” the teen pulled away, confusion growing as his eyes widened. “What was…” his voice trailed off as he brushed away my hand and clasped his own to his neck. “What did you do-“

His fingers whitened and his jaw muscles clenched as he jerked away from me, knees buckling as he began to scream.

I turned and walked away, leaving him there, the pain growing swiftly to an agony that was unmatched by anything I had ever encountered. I couldn’t help my grin as passersby began to stop and turn in his direction, before rushing over to offer aid.

At the wall of the arcade, I turned and leant back against the rough stone brick and crossed my legs as I watched the crowd around the boy. His screams were wrought with agony and fear as something beyond his ken seared his flesh from the inside out.

“Stop it!” Becca snapped and I looked at her in surprise.

“What?”

“Stop it, now! I command you!”

With a snarl, I whispered the words to cancel the spell and the boy's cries ceased.

“Why did you do that?”

I lifted my shoulders, shrugging. “Made me feel better.”

“How could that make you feel anything but horror?”

“The spell was harmless. A little bit of psychic pain and no real damage. He would have been fine.” I lifted my chin towards the crowd that was already dispersing. An older lady was helping the teen to his feet. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment and he’d soiled himself. “Okay, mainly harmless.”

“What kind of person could do that to another? What possible reason could there be for that?”

“He annoyed me.”

She stared at me aghast and then pressed her lips firmly together. My eyes widened as I realised that perhaps I had gone too far and then her fingers twitched as she readied the banishing spell.

“No,” I snarled. “You promised you would help me if I helped you!”

“I promised to help someone I thought was worthy of help.” She snapped her arm out to point at the trembling boy. “What you just did was not the actions of someone I want anything to do with.”

“Why? For punishing him?”

“Punishing! What the hell kind of punishment is that?”

“It’s not that bad, for goodness sake!”

Her eyes softened and she lowered her arm, head tilting as she looked at me. No, not at me, I realised, not the me that was clothed in Jen’s body, but at the real me, the soul inside. Pity filled her eyes and I recoiled.

Who was she to pity me?

“You were punished like that?” It wasn’t a question. “As a child?”

“We all were. It’s how we learned to obey the coven elders.”

Becca shook her head but she no longer seemed intent on banishing me. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For… I… just, I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t making sense but I wasn’t about to argue with her, not if it meant she had lost the urge to banish me. Clearly, I had a great deal to learn about how people lived outside of the coven and I would need to be careful.

The way she was looking at me, watching me, made me uncomfortable. The pity was still there but there was something else in her gaze that disturbed me. Compassion, perhaps, or sympathy. It irritated me for it indicated that there was something she felt was wrong with me.

Our partnership was off to a poor start and I had to remind myself that I needed her if I was to find a way back to my own body.

“How did you persuade the witch not to kill me?” I asked, changing the subject. Her expression told me she knew why I was doing it but she didn’t push.

“A lot of pleading and some fast talking, mainly. It was your… Jen’s… youth more than anything. I managed to convince him you were new to everything and looking for help.” Her lips pressed firmly together again, a sure sign of her annoyance. “Which you spoilt by acting like an ass.”

“Sorry.”

“You should be.” She exhaled a soft sigh. “What do we do now?”

It was my turn to smile then, feeling like I was back on more solid ground. “I have an idea but you won’t like it.”

She groaned. “What?”

“How much money do we have between us?”

“I have about two hundred and Jen probably has about half that. Why?”

“It will have to do.”

“Why?” She asked again, sighing.

“Because we’ll need some decent dresses.”

Her confused expression made me laugh and my mirth only grew as I watched her expression when I explained what we would need to do.