The Witch with No Name

Ivy was starting to smell really good, a mix of vampire incense and leather. I tried to ignore it as I gripped my splat gun tighter, amulets clinking. Marsha’s front door had a corkboard for leaving notes, decorated with flowers and a smiley face with fangs. I could hear the woman’s heels scrape on the stairwell, and I grimaced. It was noon, a time when most day walkers would be at work and the night walkers safely underground—but there were ways around that.

The amulets were a nice steady green and I nodded, splat gun level as I crouched opposite the door’s hinges. Ivy worked the key and pushed it open to stand in the opening. Jenks flew in, confident that his first look was sufficient, but I listened as Ivy tasted the air, running it through her incredibly complex brain. “Hi, honey. I’m home,” she said, and I followed her in.

I had to walk right through Ivy’s scent, and even with my breath held, I shivered at the touch of pheromones she was kicking out—wafting over my skin like the memory of black silk. Though still sharing our investigation firm’s letterhead, she’d been pulling away from me the last six months or so. I had a good idea why, and though I was happy for her, I missed working with her on a more daily basis.

My old vampire bite tingled at the obvious aroma of amorous vampires that permeated the one-bedroom, open-floor-plan apartment. Or maybe I just miss the intoxicating mix of sexual thrill and heart-pounding adrenaline she pumped into the air when she got tense. Frowning at my own shallowness, I looked over the small, plush, well-decorated sunlit apartment and the evidence of their love. I knew what it was like having people tell you who not to fall in love with, and my thoughts pinged on Trent before spinning away.

“Stay there,” I said to Marsha, now at the door. My amulets were still green, but I was only five feet into the place. “There could be person-specific spells.”

Person-specific spells: a nice way of saying a bullet with your name on it—and Jenks couldn’t detect them. They were a necessity when making lethal, illegal charms. Vampire politics would keep the hit quiet, but if the spell took out an innocent, they’d track down and jail the black witch who’d made the lethal charm.

Senses searching, I did a quick walk through the living room before checking out the small kitchen. Ivy was in the bedroom, and I slowed, eyes on the amulets. It was easier to hide stuff among the gleaming metal and new appliances, but if there was anything here, it’d show.

“Hey!” Ivy exclaimed, muffled from the walls. My head snapped up and I lurched to get in front of Marsha. Shit, I’d been right.

“Jenks!” Ivy shouted, exasperated this time. “Why didn’t you tell us about the dog?”

I slid to a stop, peeved as Jenks dusted an embarrassed red. Marsha had come in, eyes alight, and I waved for her to stay where she was.

“Sor-r-r-rry!” Jenks said as the jingle of a dog collar became obvious. “It’s just a dog.”

No one had been here for two days? The place smelled like candles, not dog crap.

“Buddy!” Marsha called out, exuberant as she pushed around me to drop to her knees, and I eyed the small, scruffy pound puppy that timidly walked, not trotted, into the living room. “Come here, baby! You must be starving. I thought Luke had you!”

My eyes narrowed. I’d never had a dog, but I knew they generally underwent the throes of delight when their owners came back after checking the mail, much less two days. “Ah, Marsha?” I said as the dog took a hesitant step in, his tail just hanging there.

“I think we’re good,” Ivy said as she came out of the back room. “You want to sweep it with your charms?”

“Sure,” I said slowly, something ringing false.

“Buddy?” Marsha called again, and the dog gave me a sideways look as he passed me, a mix of excitement and hesitancy I wouldn’t expect from an animal.

At my wrist, an amulet flashed red.

“Shit, it’s the dog!” I shouted.

Marsha looked up, her beautiful little mouth in an O of surprise. Her hands were outstretched and the dog was almost to her. I’d never get there in time.

“Rhombus!” I exclaimed as I pulled on the ley line, feeling it scream into me, harsh from my demand. The energy pooled and overflowed, and I shoved it out again, my word tapping into a hard-won series of mental handsprings that harnessed the energy into a molecule-thin barrier. It took the easiest form—a sphere with me in the center—and the dog predictably ran into it.

But instead of the expected yip of surprise, the energy levels spiked.

It was the only warning I got, and I cowered as a bright flash of energy exploded inside my circle, coming from the dog! The loosed power reverberated, making my circle chime like a sour bell, and I froze, skin crawling as the illegal death spell flooded over me, then fell back into the dog when it didn’t find its intended victim.