The taxi dropped us off in a narrow, quiet, street in the Hessel area of the city. One of the wealthier areas and it showed. Large, detached houses with gardens larger than Jen’s actual house and those clean, narrow, streets were filled with trees to keep the place looking aesthetically pleasing.
It was a far cry from the cramped and squalid estate where Jen and Becca lived and it almost reminded me of the home I’d had in my previous life.
I led the way to the wide black iron gate of a multi-storey property of grey stone covered in a dark green ivy. A thin plume of smoke drifted up from the chimney stack and there was a man in overalls cutting the lawn.
There was an intercom beside the gate and I glanced at the paper I held which May had given me, and pressed the button. After a short silence, the intercom buzzed.
“State your business.”
“Here to see, Abigail?”
“And you are?”
“Someone who may be able to offer a service.” Not like I was gonna just come out and say I was here to do dark magic. I rolled my eyes and looked up at the house. There was no movement but that meant little. “May sent us.”
No reply but the iron gate swung inwards and with a quick jerk of my head for Becca to follow me, I set off along the gravel driveway.
The front door opened before we reached it and a slender woman stood framed there. She wore plain, yet expensive and well-tailored clothing and a queen's ransom in jewellery. She studied us as we approached, looking us both up and down as she sized us up.
“May sent you?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she do that?”
I sighed inwardly, irritated at the need for such games. Sometimes I just wished I could be blunt and then I realised that I could be. It wasn’t my body, it wasn’t my life. What did it matter who I offended?
“I’m offering my services and she suggested you might have work that the local witch won’t do.”
One elegant brow arched and her lips pursed but she focused her attention fully on me. “You had better come in then.”
We were led through the well-appointed house and through into a study. There were two leather chairs set before a wide mahogany desk in front of a wide window that overlooked an even larger back garden than the one at the front.
Bookshelves lined the walls of the study and even a cursory glance revealed that I wouldn’t be finding any popular fiction there. There was a large array of occult texts going back centuries and an even wider range of books on theocracy and philosophy.
The woman gestured with a careful wave of her hand for us to sit in the chairs while she seated herself on the opposite side of the desk. The screen of her computer was reflected in her eyes as she leaned back, tenting her fingers before her as she considered us.
As the silence grew, Becca fidgeted nervously and I reached over to grip her hand to stop her from speaking. I let my amusement show as the woman noted the gesture and I enjoyed the line of irritation that appeared on her brow.
I had no interest in the power games that a certain type of insecure person in business liked to play in order to make themselves feel and seem more important. Anyone who had held true power didn’t need such things.
“So…” There was ice forming on the word as she finally broke the silence and my smile grew. I had no interest in the games but I could play them. “Did, May elaborate on my needs?”
“No.” I tilted my head, watching her like a cat watches a mouse. There was something about her that was off-putting. A crack in that shiny façade she wore. “She had more discretion than that.”
“Good.”
A single word with a whole lot of unspoken threat behind it. I began to reassess my initial impression of her. Wealthy, of course, but someone who had earned her money was my guess. Likely through hard work and a ruthlessness that might match the covens.
“You are, Abigail Caulford?”
“I am.”
“Then you have a task that you need completing and are willing to pay?”
The slightest hint of a smile on her porcelain face. “Yes.”
“Tell me what you need.”
Abigail didn’t immediately speak and I held back the sigh, guessing the reason she was being cagey. She wasn’t a witch or one of the magic-using races that I should be able to recognise but she knew of the supernatural world and knew May, which suggested she wasn’t human.
Most of the races tended to accumulate iconography or trinkets that were related to their race. An informal way of connecting to their origins that they couldn’t tend to do openly with humans around, so I took another look at the bookshelves and the small array of items gathered on her desk.
Stolen novel; please report.
There was little to see on the bookshelves other than an interest in the realms hidden from human sight, which wasn’t that unusual for supernaturals. On her desk were the general items one would expect to see. A diary, papers and folders, framed photos that faced towards her hiding the subject from me, and a pen.
I gave the pen another glance. A fountain pen. A very expensive Mont Blanc fountain pen. Not unexpected, but that coupled with the gem-encrusted watch and the myriad rings and bracelets she wore, hinted at something else.
My gaze narrowed as I noted the golden pendant that took the form of a fir tree set within a circle. Her earrings, also gold, shone brightly and took the form of crescent moons, with diamonds forming stars, just seen beneath golden hair.
“Huldra,” I sneered. “What need have you of a witch?”
“Clever, you have some knowledge then.”
“I don’t get it,” Becca said, looking from Abigail to me. “What’s going on?”
“Your friend has determined my race,” Abigail replied, her eyes not leaving mine. There was a golden hint to the hazel of the iris that I should have noticed. “And she, like all those like her, has just wonderfully demonstrated why I must seek the services of less reputable spellcasters.”
Becca’s mouth hung open and I finally tore my gaze from the Huldra and turned to the young necromancer.
“She’s a forest spirit,” I explained. “Spiteful and greedy, usually, with a gift for the gathering of golden trinkets.” I waved a hand to the house in which we sat. “Clearly, the modern world has not affected that ability.”
“Quite so,” Abigail agreed, inclining her head.
“I still don’t get it.” Becca pouted, confusion plain on her face. “Why do you seem to dislike her?”
“There is history between our races,” Abigail answered before I could. “Which is why I could not seek the aid of a coven for my business.”
“She is a magical dead zone,” I clarified, sniffing disdainfully. “Witch spells won’t work on her, and they have used that to their advantage over the years.”
Abigail’s smile widened and I curled my hands into fists. Any coven she approached would have sent their servants after her out of reflex. A lone witch, on the other hand, would have no one to send and no spells that would harm her.
I was, effectively, disarmed when in her presence and that left me incredibly vulnerable, which was a feeling that I really didn’t enjoy.
Still… I needed the money.
“What task do you need completing?” I snapped, not bothering to hide my anger at discovering the trap I had stumbled into. There was no doubt in my mind that the bitch would have a weapon close to hand and I was defenceless.
“I need a curse casting.”
“What curse?” If it wasn’t one of the few that I could remember then it would be difficult.
Abigail pulled open a drawer on her side of the desk and slid a slim, leatherbound volume out of it. She placed it on the desk between us and leaned back, lifting her chin to the book to indicate that I should pick it up.
Curiosity was enough of a reason for me to reach for the book and flick it open. Becca leaned over the desk to glance at the yellowing pages, her nose scrunching up as she tried to read the faded lettering.
“What language is that?”
“Leabhar na Mallachd,” I read, grunting. “Gaelic, it means ‘The Book of Curses.”
“Really?”
“Not the most imaginative title but it is several hundred years old by my guess.” My eyes flicked up to meet Abigail’s and she nodded slowly, seemingly pleased that I could read the language. “Who was the author?”
“Cathal MacCuaig.” My eyebrows rose at that. A name synonymous with dark magic in some circles. “You know of his work?”
“Some, yes.” I glanced back down at the book. “This would be a very expensive and rare book, then.”
“It is.”
“Which curse do you need casting”
“The fourth.”
I flipped through the pages as quickly as I could while being very careful with the aged parchment. I stopped when I found the one she’d indicated and shook my head as I translated the words in my mind.
“Can you cast it?”
“Yes,” I said, slowly, thinking fast. “It won’t be cheap.”
“I wouldn’t expect it would be.” She drummed her fingers on the desktop. “What is your price?”
“There are materials that-“
“Already gathered.”
I read through the page and arched a brow as I gave a half-smile. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
That tone brooked no argument and I shrugged. That made it easier but the body I was in was hardly a master of spell craft, her powers new and unpractised. While I had the skill, there was no guarantee that I could pull together the power.
Not that I would have much choice but to try since I was effectively without options. Sure, I could refuse and try to leave but something told me I wouldn’t get very far. Huldra weren’t known for being forgiving.
I rubbed at my chin considering the best way forward.
“Wait,” Becca said before I could answer. “What is this curse and who will you be casting it on?”
“Seriously?” I snapped. “This isn’t the time.”
“It’s the perfect time,” she replied, lifting her nose and looking down it at me. “I won’t be party to hurting someone.”
I closed my eyes and gave an exasperated hiss. She was unaware of the danger we were in which allowed some leniency but she was being incredibly naïve to think that it was the right time or place to argue the toss.
“Is there a problem?” Abigail asked with an edge to her voice that suggested there had better not be.
“No problem.” My eyes snapped open and I scowled at Becca. She opened her mouth to speak but I gave my head an almost imperceptible shake and my glower intensified. She shut her mouth with a snap and I turned back to Abigail. “Five grand,” I said, naming a figure the greedy Huldra would find unpalatable.
“Agreed,” Abigail said, a wide triumphant smile on her face showing that she knew she’d just won.
Fuck.
“Who is the target?” I asked.
“Let me worry about that. You just need to cast the curse.”
“A cursed object then. I need to know what that is. Not everything is going to be suitable.”
“Of course.” Another drawer was opened and Abigail reached and then pulled out the object that would hold the curse.
She set it on the desk between us and pressed a finger to her lips, eyes glimmering with malice. Becca stared at the object in shocked horror and even I felt a little revulsion for what it signified.
“You can’t be serious!” Becca gasped.
I waved her to silence and picked up the book before rising to my feet. “You have a space for me to cast this spell?”
“Of course.”
“You will have to remain far enough away that your… natural resistance to magic does not affect my casting.”
“Naturally.”
I licked dry lips and my eyes flicked from the object on the desk and back to Abigail. “The money?”
“Will be ready as soon as the spell is cast.”
Somehow I doubted that as there would be nothing stopping the Huldra from just killing us both once the job was done. Though I had an idea or two of how to ensure that didn’t happen, I would still feel happier knowing that she had the money ready.
There was nothing else to say and I was caught between a rock and a hard place. With little options available I reached down and picked up the object that would be cursed. My fingers closed on soft fabric and I set my jaw at the sudden wave of revulsion that came over me.
I had few morals but I did have some.
“Lead on,” I said, tucking the child’s soft toy under my arm. “Let’s get this over with.”