Warlock For Hire: Arcane Inc. Book 1 Page 2

  Where was I? Ah yes, Doris and Gavin. Gavin is his real name by the way. I wouldn’t be cruel enough to call somebody that unless it was their given name. Gavin. What kind of a name is Gavin? Now Doris is at least sixty, despite celebrating her 59th birthday every year. You’d think she deserves some quiet retirement, but nope. Not as long as Gavin is about. Gavin is thirty. Just let that sink in. Thirty years old. Still lives with his mother. He doesn’t have a job. For as long as I’ve known him he hasn’t had a job. He truly is the very bottom of society. I think I’ve painted a pretty good picture of Gavin now and if we’re all lucky we’ll make it through this book without having to meet him.

  So anyway, I got to the front door and there was Doris. “Eddie, have you got my rent for me?” she asked, holding her wrinkled hand out expectantly.

  “I certainly do,” I said, reaching into my inside pocket. I pulled out a wad of notes, counted out four hundred and fifty pounds and placed the pile of money in the old lady’s palm.

  “Thank you, Eddie,” she smiled sweetly and then began counting the money again.

  “Don’t you trust me?” I asked, only half joking. We actually went through this routine every month.

  “Well with you-know-who in the house I’ve learned to be a little less trusting.” She wasn’t talking about Voldemort, she meant Gavin. I forgot to mention, he also steals. And no, he does not have a thieves honour. He tried stealing from me once, but I cursed him. Every time he went to touch anything that didn’t belong to him his hand caught fire. That lasted a week. I loved every minute of it. Doris thought he was setting fires all over the house and when he tried telling her what was really happening she told him he’d had too many drugs. She wasn’t wrong. Gavin is also a drug addict. I’m really laying it on thick aren’t I? It’s all true, though.

  “Has he been shorting you on the rent?” I asked.

  “I wish that was the case, but we both know he doesn’t pay any,” Doris replied, shaking her head slowly. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t brought him into this world. If only I put him back where he came from.”

  “That’s not an image I needed this morning,” I told her, with a shake of my own head.

  “If only he’d get a job,” she continued, ignoring what I’d said. “I keep giving him the job pages, but he just uses them as toilet paper.”

  “Toilet paper?” I repeated. Even for Gavin that was weird. What was wrong with the regular stuff?

  “Yes, well, he uses so much toilet paper that I’ve started keeping it from him. If he wants such luxuries he can buy his own.”

  I left before I was forced to listen to more of her nonsense. Sometimes I really do think she’s as bad as he is. I mean rationing toilet paper. Really? I didn’t have time to listen to anymore anyway. I had a meeting to attend.

  The meeting was at the Muggleton Inn. No, it has nothing to do with Harry Potter. It got the name from Charles Dickens, though I don’t remember how. Muggs —as it’s more commonly known —is a pub in the town centre and the place where I try to conduct most of my business. Not because I like drinking, I actually drink very rarely; I don’t really like the taste of alcohol nor do I like the effect it has on me. I use Muggs for two reasons. The first, I don’t like to take people home, because I enjoy my privacy and don’t want angry clients to find me, and because I only rent a room and old Doris knows nothing of magic and the supernatural. The other reason is because Muggs is a supernatural spot. The supernatural spot in Maidstone. Which is ironic considering what muggle means in the Potter universe. But like I said, it’s got nothing to do with that. There aren’t many supernatural beings in the town, but those that are, know they can find others like themselves in Muggs. It’s where we all go to relax and be ourselves and conduct supernatural business. We still have to be careful because humans go there too. A lot of them actually, especially at the weekend. It’s a popular venue for everyone. The supernaturals learned to share the space. Being busy actually helps us anyway. When there are so many people about nobody tends to notice our extraordinary activities. The noise and crowds give us the perfect cover for our business. Especially mine which often involves magic. The only thing that isn’t allowed is feeding on the humans. That only affects vampires, though. Yes, vampires are real. So are werewolves and a lot of stuff that you’ve probably never heard of. The vampires still fed from humans from time to time, but as long as security didn’t catch them it was okay. The bouncers are human but enhanced. They’d been given enchantments and magical weapons. By who? I don’t know. Certainly not me. I’m not in the habit of providing others with weapons which can be used against me. Bobby is the landlord. He’s owned Muggs for as far back as I can remember. He’s human, but he’s clued up about the other things that exist in the world. He has to be to run the place. He’s a nice enough guy so long as you follow his rules, respect his pub and don’t piss him off. Wind up on his bad side and you’ll soon learn just how formidable certain humans can be. Especially those with an enhanced security team on the payroll. Bobby has his own cache of weapons in the cellar, like his security team’s, they were provided by a sorcerer - or sorcerers. I have no idea what weapons he has and I’m smart enough not to bother trying to find out. Best to keep in Bobby’s good books.

  I walked up to the bar and ordered a cup of tea. Bobby served me. He was a short overweight guy in his fifties. Don’t let that deceive you. He can still handle himself in a fight and took on plenty of people half his age every weekend when they cause trouble. It’s usually the humans that caused trouble more often than not. The supernaturals know better. When I made my order he grunted at me and nodded. I didn’t need to give a table number. He knew where to find me. I always sit in the booth at the back of the pub, near the back door. It’s a quiet, shady area which provides me with privacy whilst giving me a view of most of the pub.

  When one of the barmaid’s brought my tea over I ordered a brunch as well. Most people would have to go to the bar to order, but I’m not most people. Half an hour later I was full up of brunch and just finishing my tea when Ashley arrived. I was surprised to see that she was hot. Not just hot — smoking. Dirty blonde hair, big green eyes and a slender feminine face. She wore jeans that clung to her near perfect legs and a tank top that showed off plenty of boob. Let me tell you she had boobs that a guy could get lost in. I know what you’re thinking. I’m a pervert, right? Well, guess what? All guys are perverts. If they say they’re not then they’re lying. In my experience, a lot of women are too, but I can’t speak for the whole gender.

  “Eddie Lancaster?” she asked tentatively.

  “How did you know?” I asked, flashing a smile. There was just something about me that drew people in. They knew I was the one they were looking for.

  “The barman told me,” she said, pointing back at the bar, and crushing my theory.

  “Oh,” I said. “Ashley?”

  “Ashley Sheridan, yes.” She slid into the seat across from me and looked around nervously. She looked older than I expected.

  “How old are you?” I asked. I’m not that tactful a guy. If I have a question I’ll ask it.

  “Twenty-three,” she replied. She looked confused but didn’t question me.

  “And you want your powers removed?” I asked. Now, I said before that power extraction is a fairly common job for me and I was telling the truth. But it’s usually only ordered by a very specific type of person. It’s either the youngsters that want to fit in with their friends or people who’ve experienced a horrific tragedy as a result of their powers. She was just a little too old for the first group.

  “Yes,” she said quickly, but there was doubt. Hesitance.

  “Has something bad happened?” I asked, trying to figure out her motives. I didn’t need to know her motives but I’m a nosey fucker.

  “No. I just need them gone.” There was definitely something she was holding back. She wasn’t just hesitant, she was frightened. But was it of her own magic? Or something else?

  “W
hy?” I asked, leaning forward, wanting the big reveal.

  She leaned forwards too. “You don’t need to know that,” she said roughly. “You provide the service and I’ll pay you for it. That’s the deal. Nothing else,” she said firmly. A forceful woman — I liked that.

  “As you wish, love. Money?” I said, rolling my sleeves up my forearms. She passed three twenties across the table which I quickly pocketed. “You’re hand please.”

  “Which one?”

  “Either.” She offered her right hand and I enclosed it in both of my mine. I had a quick glance around to make sure nobody was watching. Satisfied that we had the required privacy I began the process. “Just open yourself up to me. Allow me to take your magic.” It was possible for me to take magic against someone’s will, but it was really fucking hard, it takes a serious amount of energy and if they’re really powerful then I wouldn’t stand a chance. So, it’s easier to simply ask for permission.

  “Okay,” she said.

  I squeezed her hand a little tighter and concentrated. There are written spells and rituals with magic. However, a good sorcerer knows that you don’t need a written spell or an incantation. The best practitioners can make their own spells simply by willing them. Magic is a fluid thing that can be moulded however you want it to be. When I want to cast a spell I simply concentrate on the desired effect and force my magic to achieve it. I’m that damn good.

  “Here we go,” I whispered, as I felt the exchange start. It started as a low vibration in our hands. Then came the tingling, gradually increasing until it felt like our hands were full of static. The light above us buzzed and flickered. Our hands shook, lightly, then violently. The force spread up our arms. I tensed my own, stopping them from shaking so visibly, but Ashley was not as strong. She wasn’t used to the process like I was. I looked at her and saw not just the hesitation and fear that she’d shown before, but now there was sadness as well. Regret. She didn’t want to do this. I was sure of it and yet for some reason here she was doing it anyway. And paying for the privilege. The bulb overhead smashed as did my tea cup which had been sitting innocently on the table. Rather unfairly, my plate survived the ordeal. With a thought, I made the glass fragments from the bulb disappear before they touched us. The shaking stopped. The feeling left. The extraction was complete.

  “Is it done?” she asked. Her words got stuck in her throat. She was going to cry, I was sure of it.

  “Yes, are you sure you want this?” I asked. She didn’t reply. She stood up abruptly and practically ran from the pub. I was left very confused and somewhat irritated at not being given the answers I craved. Oh well, at least I was sixty pounds up and had a brand new bit of magic.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After my meeting with Ashley, I headed straight to my self-storage unit. It wasn’t far from the town centre so I walked the journey, it gave me time to think things over. Plus I don’t drive. I started learning once, but I decided it wasn’t for me. I prefer being the passenger, it means I can concentrate less. Usually, once I’d finished a job that would be it, it would be gone from my mind, but not this time. There was something about Ashley that kept nagging at me and it wasn’t just her stunning good looks. She’d seemed so reluctant to go through with the extraction, almost as if somebody had forced her to do it. But why would anybody force her to give up her magic? If she was a human-born sorcerer then perhaps her family, but not at her age; they would’ve done it when she was a kid. I considered the possibility of a boyfriend being uncomfortable by magic, but she didn’t seem the sort to be pushed around. The only solution I could really get behind was that she must’ve been part of a tragedy that she felt responsible for. She didn’t want to give up her magic, but she didn’t want to risk it happening again. Even that theory just didn’t feel right. Why was she scared? What of?

  I arrived at the storage facility and nodded at the guy at reception as I went through. Usually, Roxanne worked the desk and I’d built up a bit of a rapport with her. I’m not a very social guy so when I do make a connection with another person I like to make that extra bit of effort with them. That usually meant stopping at the desk for a quick catch up, maybe even a beverage if I have the time. This person was not Roxanne though, so all I gave him was a semi-polite nod — no smile.

  I walked the many corridors until I came to my unit. I pulled my card from my jacket, swiped it down the panel and then laid my palm flat on the door. I didn’t trust the electronic security systems to keep my items safe so I added some protection of my own. I felt the magic ripple through me and then the door clicked open. As I said before, I only rent one room, and it’s in a house with a delinquent. So I have to be extra careful. I do keep my room magically protected, but I still prefer to keep anything that I don’t need on me out of the house. So I rent a unit for almost all of my magical supplies. I also use the unit for knocking up potions and such. It’s a spacious unit. It’s a one-hundred and fifty square foot unit, so there’s plenty of space inside. The walls were lined with shelving racks that were all full. Books, boxes, jars of this and that were stored neatly on them. I’m a neat freak. The shelves at the back of the room held only glass boxes. There were about fifty in total - well actually there were forty-three. Each glass box was glowing with bright colour, varying lights lit up the unit in a rainbow of colours. I shut the door behind me and then went to the large cardboard box in the corner by the door. It was where I kept all my empty glass boxes. I lifted one out and walked over to the rectangular metal table that was positioned in the centre of the unit. I placed the box down and held my palms on either side. I concentrated hard on sending power into the box. Not just any power; Ashley’s power.

  Let me explain. I already told you earlier about the potential magic has to bring out the worst in people. Therefore, I don’t like to risk it by gathering too much power. When I extract power from another sorcerer I pop it into one of these nifty glass boxes and lock it away here in the unit. If in the future, I need a bit of a boost, I have plenty of power standing by.

  I felt the magic leave me and a moment later the box shined with a red light. If there was any significance to the colour of the magic then I didn’t know it. As far as I knew it was random. I tipped the box, magically scratched Ashley’s name on the base — I like to keep a record — and then I left again. Sixty quid was not going to get me far, so I needed more work.

  I called Shay — the second caller — on my way back from the storage place. He said he could be at Muggs within the hour so I agreed to meet him there.

  “Back so soon?” Bobby said when he saw me walk back in.

  “I just can’t stand being away from you, Bobby,” I said with a wide grin.

  He grunted. His social skills make mine look exemplary. “I’ll have one of the girls bring your tea over,” he said and then ushered me away. “Oh, and make sure you pay for that light bulb!” he shouted after me.

  I saw the couple sitting in my booth just before I reached it. A man and woman, both in their late thirties, maybe forties. They were sitting side by side eating. The woman was eating lunch whilst the man was reading a newspaper, his plate empty in front of him. This would not do. There are certain systems in place in the universe. Systems that can not be broken or else the entire cosmos would descend into anarchy. Me sitting in my booth is one of those systems. I had a quick wracking of the brain to find a suitable plan to move them along. I grabbed an abandoned newspaper from a vacant table and slid into the booth opposite the couple. I opened the newspaper, held it in front of my face and began pretending to read.

  I heard the woman whisper something and then the sound of the man’s newspaper lowering. The man coughed rather loudly. I ignored him. Bad manners is actually a pet peeve of mine, but sometimes they can work wonders. The man sighed. “Excuse me,” he said.

  I lowered my own newspaper and peered over the top. The man was looking at me through his smear-covered glasses. His expression was a mixture of annoyed and tired. His wife—I assumed that’s
what she was—was hiding behind his shoulder looking nervous as if she expected me to attack them. I know that my generation was somewhat feared by the older ones, especially considering that it was us who introduced chavs to the world, but we weren’t savages. Besides, I was twenty-six, not a teenager. She was clearly overreacting.

  “Yes?” I asked, putting on my most innocent voice.

  “We’re sitting here,” the man said, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

  “So I see,” I replied and resumed reading my paper.

  He coughed again. I lowered the paper. “We are sitting here so you cannot,” he said.

  “Obviously. It’s a physical impossibility for two people to occupy the same space. Unless one sits on the others lap which I’d consider for the right price.” The wife gasped.

  “I mean we are sitting here so you have to leave,” the man said, almost shouting at me.

  “No. You’re sitting there, so I’m sitting over here. There’s no need for me to leave.”

  “We’re trying to enjoy our lunch,” the woman said in a mousy but still angry voice.

  “Go on then,” I said, gesturing that she continue eating. They were the ones who’d interrupted me after all.

  “You’ve quite put me off now,” she said. Her cheeks flushed red and she looked away.

  “Do you hear that? You’ve put my wife off her lunch,” the man said. He spoke as if he were addressing a naughty child.

  “Well in that case,” I reached over and grabbed a chip off her plate. I shoved it in my mouth and then resumed speaking whilst chewing. “Be a shame to waste it and I am starving.”

  “Right!” the man shouted and stood up. He looked down at me angrily. I stood up nonchalantly and met his gaze.