Single Witch's Survival Guide (8 page)

This was this man who put fear in David’s heart?

My warder flicked his hand to indicate I should take another one of the chairs. I automatically left room for him to sit between Pitt and me. Spot’s whine ratcheted another notch toward desperate, and David took pity on the poor animal, allowing him to cross the beach, to fold himself across my feet.

Pitt swallowed noisily before he began to speak. “Miss Madison. I am here today in my capacity as Head Clerk of Hecate’s Court.”

David stiffened beside me.

“Yes, Montrose,” Pitt said, and he actually chortled. “You’re one of the first to hear about my promotion. It will be announced officially at Lughnasadh.”

I glanced from Pitt to David, trying to fathom the importance of the promotion. Hecate’s Court, of course, was the bureaucracy that managed all the witches in the world. I’d sent them the registration papers for my magicarium, months ago. Now, I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. It took me three tries to choke out, “I’m always happy to serve the Court, Mr. Pitt.”

The Head Clerk beamed as he released the clasps on his briefcase. The spring-loaded fittings sounded like pistol shots. I jumped despite my best intentions, and David leaped halfway out of his chair to save me from a nonexistent danger. Spot was on his haunches.

Even as David sat and ordered the Lab to do the same, Pitt reached inside the case. As he took his time, digging deep for some supposed treasure, my mind flashed over possibilities, cataloging things that could warrant David’s jagged emotion.

Pitt might have a magical stone in there, a chunk of jasper that would drain my powers, leaving me helpless and exposed. He might have a rowan wand, a tool to bolster some deadly spell a witch had packaged for his use. He might have fresh-harvested bay leaves and rue, powerful herbs that would disrupt the balance of my own magic, render me as helpless as a child. He might have a gun.

Pitt cleared his throat as he extracted a sheaf of papers.

The pages were covered in small type. A column of numbers ran down the left margin, counting off rows of text. Some words were printed in bold; others appeared entirely in capital letters. A copper grommet bound the document together, and a red ribbon wrapped around the ring.

David collapsed back in his chair. “All these cloak and dagger games to deliver a
Charter
?”

Pitt’s smile was different now. He’d gone from unctuous to carnivorous. “I assure you, Montrose. This is not a game.”

David reached for the papers.

“Ah, ah, ah! These pages aren’t for warders’ eyes. We have
rules
, Montrose. You used to know that.”

“I still do,” David snapped. Good. His temper was rising. I’d rather see him angry than afraid.

“Then show a little respect. I busted you back to apprentice when you reported to me eight years ago. I hardly need to remind you the Court doesn’t offer
third
chances. One more Class A violation, and you’re through with warding forever.”

Eight years ago.
I knew the whole story. David had warded a Washington Coven witch, a woman named Haylee James. They’d had a series of fiery disagreements about proper uses of magic, about the roles of witches and warders. Against all logic, he’d fallen in love with her, and she’d betrayed him, taking another warder as her lover. Ultimately, David had been cast out from the Coven, sent back to Hecate’s Court. He’d only been allowed to ward me after years of rehabilitation. Even then, the Court had only sent him my way because I was an upstart. An unknown. Someone who couldn’t possibly be important in the long run.

And now, I understood what I should have recognized the instant our unwelcome visitor materialized on the beach. Norville Pitt wasn’t some hapless accounting clerk, running errands for Hecate’s Court. He was an
enforcer
. Pitt held the power of arcane life and death, the ability to terminate David’s career. And mine too, in all likelihood.

I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, Mr. Pitt. I’m afraid I don’t know what’s in that packet of papers.”

“Forgive me, Miss Madison.” I’d been wrong when I’d thought the man was a shy rabbit. He was more like a snake, hypnotizing me with his bulging eyes. “May I present the Madison Academy Charter?”

He handed over the beribboned papers with a greasy flourish. I glanced at the front page, taking care to hold the document at an angle so David could read along with me.

“WHEREAS, Hecate’s Court has been charged for time immemorial with the management and training of all Witches in the Eastern Empire, and

“WHEREAS, Jane Madison has founded the Madison Academy as a magicarium for the training of Witches and established herself as the magistrix thereof, and

“WHEREAS, Jane Madison wishes that all graduates of the Madison Academy be recognized as official Witches within the boundaries of the Eastern Empire…”

There were a dozen more statements like that, all formalizing the background of my Academy, all stating what I had supposedly thought through and done before I launched the magicarium. I thumbed past the rest of the whereases until I got to a statement printed in bold: “NOW, THEREFORE, Hecate’s Court and Jane Madison are agreed that this document shall control all interactions between them with respect to the Madison Academy.”

Okay…. I turned the page to a lengthy collection of DEFINITIONS.

“Magicarium shall mean a school for training witches in the use of Witchcraft.

“Affiliated Institution” shall mean any Coven, Magicarium, or Court that offers formal or informal support to a magicarium, including but not limited to support in the form of instruction, financial aid, material goods, or astral energy.

“Shadowed Path shall mean any form of Witchcraft designed to bring harm to other beings, human or animal, whether those beings possess magical abilities or not.

“Witchcraft shall mean the casting of spells, the reading of runes, and/or any magical use whatsoever of crystals, herbs, or other elements of the natural world.”

All right. I couldn’t offer much argument there. I flipped past another few pages.

One lengthy paragraph was labeled MILESTONES. I skimmed over the words, trying to force them to make sense. “All students enrolled in the Madison Academy shall be tested at regular intervals to determine their achievement of the Milestones set forth in this document.” A series of benchmarks was defined: Awakening a familiar, lighting a candle, changing the appearance of a substance, converting an item from one substance to another.

The list of accomplishments went on and on. Some of the achievements were laughably simple; I’d mastered them on my own before I’d even learned that Hecate’s Court existed. Others, though, were substantially more involved. At the bottom of the list, I found one that had given me nearly endless grief: Awakening an anima.

Right. Like I’d be teaching
that
to any of my students.

The document went on in the same legalistic vein, page after page. I understood all the magical concepts, but some of the formal language left my head spinning. It seemed unnecessary both to attest and to aver. And I was pretty sure I didn’t want to “assert, verify, and proclaim” that I was entirely in charge of my students’ magical workings whether those undertakings were conducted on the premises of the Madison Academy or elsewhere. I was absolutely positive I didn’t want to indemnify the Court for any loss, pecuniary or magical, that they perceived to have accrued to the possessions of Hecate’s Court, in their sole evaluation and at their sole determination.

And then, I found the real kicker. It was a few pages from the end, buried in a collection of paragraphs about how we parties could notify each other about changes in our address, about how we both submitted to the jurisdiction of the District Court of the Eastern Empire, etc.

“MAJOR WORKING: In the event the Madison Academy fails to complete one (1) Major Working by the conclusion of its first semester of operation, all magical materials belonging to Jane Madison and the Madison Academy shall be forfeit to Hecate’s Court without any compensation or recourse for future return.”

I tossed the agreement onto Pitt’s briefcase. “I won’t sign this.”

He simply turned to my warder. “Montrose? Perhaps you can explain to Miss Madison why it’s in her best interest to sign?”

David was clutching the arms of his chair. “I’m not doing your dirty work! I’ve seen hundreds of Charters before, and not one had a clause like that.”

Pitt licked his liver-colored lips. “You saw those Charters when you worked as my
clerk
. A rather headstrong clerk, as I recall too well. A rather headstrong clerk, with entirely inappropriate ideas about how the Court should and should not conduct its business.”

“That’s between you and me, Norville. You can’t punish the Madison Academy because you didn’t like the way I filed your papers.”

“Can’t I?” Pitt clambered to his feet and pointed a pudgy finger toward the center of David’s chest. I automatically dropped a hand to Spot’s muscled neck, and I could feel the animal trembling to intervene. If David hadn’t flashed an immediate silent command, there might have been blood spilled on the sand.

“Let me tell you something, Montrose. When this little document came up to the Front Desk, no one was particularly inclined to bring it out here. No one wanted to leave the cool, comfortable hallways of the Court, to travel in the sweltering Maryland summer.”

Pitt took a step closer. His feet shifted in the sand, and the tip of his index finger touched David’s shirt. Spot began to growl, low and steady. “But I realized they were all being short-sighted.”
Poke
. The growl rose in pitch. “I realized this was quite an opportunity.”
Poke.
Spot’s lips curled back over his teeth. “I realized I was finally going to see David Montrose bound by the very rules and regulations he claims to hold so dear.” One more
poke
, and this time Pitt did not pull his hand back. Spot’s growl became an uninterrupted snarl. “The Court issued the Charter, Montrose. Get your witch to sign it, or suffer the consequences.”

David’s fingers curled into fists. If I had been Norville Pitt, I would have been stumbling backward across the sand, doing my best to get away from a warder’s unrestrained anger, not to mention Cujo, by my side. I had no idea what the true stakes were between these men, but I knew I had to intervene. “Mr. Pitt?” I asked. “Could you give us a moment?”

He finally took a step back and ran a hand over his trio of hairs. “Of course, Miss Madison. After all,
you’re
the magistrix. For now.”

I snatched up the pages and waited for the repulsive man to excuse himself, to head across the beach so David and I could have a little privacy. Fat chance. Instead, David snapped his fingers to command Spot’s attention, and then he led us both out onto the dock. David kept one eye on Pitt as I turned my back on the clerk. “What the hell happened between the two of you?” I asked.

“You heard him. He was my boss, when I was sent back to the Court.”

“That doesn’t explain
that
level of animosity.”

David pointed out, “We don’t have time for this now.”

“Fine.” At least the remnants of his fear were gone, completely replaced by anger. I’d get the truth from him later. “I can’t sign this, David. I can’t bet everything on a single ritual. Not when I can’t even raise a simple wind spell with my students.”

“I don’t know how he talked them into this. All those Charters I filed, and not a single hint of a Major Workings clause before.”

“What happens if I don’t sign?”

“You’ll be declared rogue. The Court will send a letter demanding you shut down operations. If you don’t comply in a week, they’ll send a Termination Team.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t. They’ll bring a dozen warders to guarantee I won’t be a factor. An equal number of witches to restrain you. They’ll carry off the Osgood books, and whatever you’ve collected on your own. And Neko, too, of course.”

Of course. I’d lost Neko before. I never wanted to live through that nightmare again. I glared at the Charter. “I’ll take my chances against their Team. I’m stronger than they think I am.”

“You’re not listening. This is the
Court
. They make the Washington Coven look like Matchbox cars test-driving the Indy 500. If a dozen witches aren’t enough to restrain you, they’ll bring two dozen. A hundred. They have unlimited resources, and they’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What’s a Major Working, anyway? How major is Major?”

David shrugged. “I don’t know. I suspect they don’t either. You’ll have to choose something big enough that there can’t be any doubt.”

Great. Maybe I could negotiate peace in the Middle East while I was at it.

But what choice did I have? If I went rogue, Neko was automatically forfeit. If I signed the damned Charter, at least I had a fighting chance to keep him. And I meant to fight. A lot.

I turned on my heel and stalked back to the beach, Spot on my left side, and David on my right. Thrusting the Charter in Pitt’s face, I asked, “What do I do? Sign it in blood?”

“Ink should suffice.” He smiled as if he’d just told the best joke in the world. As I fumed, he extracted a Bic from his well-protected pocket. My stomach turned when I saw the cap had been chewed to a pulp.

He flipped to a page in the middle of the Agreement. “I am required to point out that you have a deadline here.” He tapped the paper. “Please initial where it says you have until Samhain to complete your Major Working.”

“Samhain!” That was Halloween. A mere four months from now. The Madison Academy semester didn’t end until December; we should have had until Yule to prove ourselves. But Samhain marked the traditional end and beginning of the pagan year. And if I argued, Pitt would probably move the deadline up to Lughnasadh, to the first of August.

I clenched my jaw and initialed the deadline.

Then, I signed the last page of the Charter, taking great care to make my name legible. Pitt added his own signature on behalf of the Court before he passed the sheaf of papers to David. “If you’ll bear appropriate witness?” he asked with oily politeness.