West Coast Witch (5 page)

“So, what, I’ll learn how to blast people with fire?”

“Everyone finds different specialties in their craft. Your mother was quite adept
with illusory magic. Her mother was more adept at divinations.”

“Divination? Like, seeing the future?”

“Not quite. It is a broad term. She could see links in things quite easily. For instance,
if she had someone’s hair, she could tell you exactly where they were. Usually that
takes a ritual of some sort.”

“Wow. Are there any ideas what my specialty lies in?”

“It will become apparent in time.” Amy promised. “Now, eat your tuna melt and your
strawberries.”

“Yea, Miyagi.” I said, and ate my dinner.

As I ate, I asked cursory questions, trying to figure out what I could from Amy. She
explained that she had connections with my mother’s side of the family. My mother
was from a line of witches, the Morris family. They had come to America in the nineteenth
century, and had claimed roots in New York at some point.

Finally, I had to ask. “So, what do witches do?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What do they do with this power? I mean, vampires tend to live in luxury, and werewolves
form packs. What do witches do?”

She nodded. “A fair question. Witches are the solitary arcane. Their power can be
vast, and most, apart from family members, cannot abide sharing power, even when intentions
are noble.”

“You’re saying that ability breeds ambition.”

“Indeed.” She nodded. “All creatures are one of two things. Creatures of nature, or
creatures of choice. The vampire, the werewolf, they are creatures of nature. However,
the witch is not bound by instinct. They are, in fact, remarkably close to humans.
They nearly are identical, apart from your arcane talent and a very different metabolism.
It sets them apart. You are also more vulnerable, in ways. Humans are social creatures,
but they do not trust that which they do not understand. And when they do not understand…well,
human history is full of examples of what happens. People of different religions,
nationalities, and sexualities, were persecuted. And what did they do when they thought
that one who looked like them consorted with demons?”

“Witch hunts, burning, lots of people dead.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “A witch keeps themselves guarded from threats, and often guarding
yourself is a solitary thing.”

“So, watch who I keep around. Got it. But that still doesn’t answer my question. What
do I do with power?”

Amy’s lips curled into a smile. “I just told you. You guard it.”

“Wait.” I held up a finger. “So, I have this power. And what, I do nothing with it?”

“You are Victoria’s son.” Her voice was warm, almost proud. “What would you do with
power, Eric?”

I shrugged. “Help people. It’d be a waste if I didn’t do some good with it.”

“But what about personal gain? Magic is a powerful tool, and one you could use for
your own benefit.”

“Come on, I've watched Star Wars. And I’m a reader. I know what happens with abused
power.”

“It is not always so simple as stories would make it believe.” Amy warned. “Evil,
as you would call it, can often triumph.”

“It shouldn’t.” I said, firmly.

“Then, Eric, you would help others with your gift? Use it so you can protect, aid,
and heal?”

“I’m not a hero. But I’m willing to learn what you’ve got to teach.”

She held out her right hand. “You will learn from me then. You will learn how to use
your powers, and I will teach you as best as I can.”

“You’ve got it.” I shook her hand. “So, when do we start?”

I realized that was my first mistake. Never give the universe that sort of invitation.

“Why, tomorrow.”

The next morning, I was hiding under my covers when the sun peeked though my blinds.
I grumbled to myself in muted frustration.

Amy had paid for my cab home, and I crashed the moment I was in bed. From the encounter
with Darius, the information overload Amy had heaped on me, and my first time sensing
magic, I was exhausted.

I wanted to say that I was able to just get up and go about my business. But that
part of life was over. Amy yanked the blanket off. “Come on, Eric. Get up. We have
got work to do.”

I looked up at Amy. She was wearing a t-shirt, olive drab jacket, and jeans. Her hair
was pulled back in a pony tail, and the look on her face was stern.

“Work? What the hell are you talking about?” I was maybe more than a little drowsy.
I’m not the best morning person.

She rolled her eyes. “You said you wanted to help people. We are getting an early
start.”

“Early?” I mumbled. “What time is it?”

“Eight.” She said. “Come on, we have got places to go, things to do.”

I rose and sat up. “Well, okay, where are we going?” I asked as I immediately trudged
towards the bathroom.

“We are going to be looking into Samantha Coolidge’s disappearance.”

“Wait, what?” I stopped, and looked back over my shoulder. “You’re kidding. You want
us to look into the disappearance that already got one guy killed?” I paused a moment.
“Yea, I would suppose that makes sense.” After all, his death meant someone else was
looking for Coolidge. And if Darius last night was any indication, we wanted to be
the first people to find her.

“Good.” She said. “Get showered, and…well, do you have anything better than that?”
She gestured generally towards me.

I folded my arms across my chest. “And, just what is that?” I asked, mimicking her
tone.

“Your clothes. We are going to be masquerading as private inspectors. The least you
can do is look the part.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I said, and turned back to my dresser. I rummaged through
it, finding a pair of jeans that were the least beat-up, and grabbed a black button-down.

I showered and dressed while I was still in the bathroom. I came out to see Amy eating
at the small table that sat in a corner of the main room. “Yea, sure, make yourself
at home.” I murmured as I went to grab a bowl of cereal.

Amy explained the game plan for the day as we ate. “We have to figure out where Raymond
Francis had left off. We are going to his office today, and we are going to look around.
Hopefully, that will bring us some sort of information on what Francis knew.”

“And we just go from there?” I asked.

“That is the general idea, yes. After that, we might want to see if we can track down
this Darius vampire, see what he knows.”

“I might just be able to help with that.”

One of her eyebrows perked, Spock-style. “Really, and how is that?”

“Well, I think he might be dating one of the girls at the bar. After all, how many
vampires named Darius are living in San Francisco?”

“That is not something I can say. After all, I could not tell you how many vampires,
period, there are in this city.”

“I thought there was supposed to be a supernatural registry or something.” I said.

“Yes, but many are not registered. I, for example, lack any classification, so I am
not registered.”

“And just what are you? And don’t just say a guardian.”

“I am someone interested in your future. My nature is a long story, and not one I
tell people quickly.”

I ate my cereal in silence, not really sure to say for the rest of the meal. When
we were done, I grabbed our dishes and put them in the sink to soak. “Okay, so where
do we go first?”

“To Mr. Francis’s office. I have the address.” She said. “We will drive there.”

“Driving twice in a twenty-four hour period? Damn, feels like I’m special.”

A confused look crossed Amy’s features. “I do not follow.”

“I don’t drive much, not in San Francisco. The hills, the parking, and the crazy drivers
are enough to make anyone swear off of it.”

“I do not blame you.” She said. “But, it is much quicker than most ways. Come on,
Eric, we want to get there before most people show up.”

“Show up? What are we doing?”

A little smile crossed her face. “Why, gathering information.”

I didn’t know it then, but ‘gathering information’ was Amy-code for ‘breaking and
entering.” We drove down to one of the business districts, and parked on the street.

“So, Amy, do you have a last name?” I asked her.

“Amy will do for now,” She reached for a messenger's bag in her back seat. “We are
going to be looking through the office. Hopefully Mister Francis kept a case file.”

“So, how are we getting in ?” I asked as we got out of the car.

“Leave that to me.”

Raymond Francis’s office was rented out of a red brick building that had been around
since the twenties. We walked up to the front door, and I opened it up for Amy.

“Why did you do that?” She asked, furrowing her brow.

“Hey, I got raised right. I always open the door for a lady, when I’m not drained
of half the blood in my body.”

“Darius hardly drained half your body.” She rolled her eyes. “And I am not a lady.”

“Well, yea, whatever.” I said. “Force of habit.”

We took the stairs up to the second floor. We found Francis Investigations, the first
door on the left. I looked at the lettering. It was inked on the glass proudly, and
looking at it was a bit of a downer. I’d been one of the last people to see Raymond
Francis alive, and what did I have to tell anyone? That he asked a few questions,
and that was it. But, here I was, looking for his murderer.

“So, how do we get in?” I asked.

Amy smiled, and reached inside her jacket. She withdrew a small leather case and unfolded
it. “Simple.”

I laughed a little. “You’re seriously going to pick the lock?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s illegal!” I exclaimed.

Amy looked at me with a look of quiet suffering. “Do be quiet. Someone might hear
you, and I would rather have silence to work.”

“Fine.” I put my hands up in mock surrender.

She went back to work, her fingers moving with nimble, inhuman motions. She moved
too fast and accurately for a person. I’d never seen anything like it. Lock picking
wasn’t supposed to be that fast. Hollywood tells you a ton of bullshit about how easy
it is. You can't just use a bobby pin and work some magic. But here she was, just
breaking all that truth. It was about a minute before the lock opened.

“There we go.” She said, and opened the door.

I paused as she walked in. “How did you do that?” I followed her into the office.

“Practice, practice, practice.”

I shrugged, figuring that if I ever did get a straight answer out of her, that would
be her decision.

The office itself wasn’t anything special. There wasn’t any reception area. His desk
was cluttered with papers and files. A few file cabinets set off against one wall,
next to a water cooler and a small trash bin with a few take-out boxes stuffed in
it. The computer on the desk was at least five years old, and the keyboard was dirty
with all sorts of grease and food. “So, what do we look for?” I asked.

“Put these on.” Amy tossed me a pair of rubber gloves, and I slipped them on.

“Okay, so, now that you’ve made me an accessory, what are we looking for?”

“Any information or notes that Francis made regarding Samantha Coolidge.”

I went to the desk, and started to look through the folders on it. Each was labeled
with a name. “So, what kind of cases did Francis handle?” I asked.

“It seems that he mostly did missing persons cases, but he also did divorce work and
occasionally some consultations for insurance companies. I looked into him after yesterday.
Is there any file for Samantha Coolidge?”

I shook my head. “No, a few notes.” I said, having set those aside. “Haven’t taken
a look at those yet.” She looked over at the pile I set aside, and started to thumb
through them. There was hardly anything there to look through, but it was a start.
“Anything interesting?”

“A few things. Her address, some information. She lived with a room mate, so that
might be some place to start. But nothing that could be called his file.”

“The room mate seems like a good place to start, though, uh…I’m not exactly an investigator.”

She chuckled. “Ah, for every witch I have heard that from. You are naturally curious
creatures. It will come naturally to you. Trust yourself.” She said, and stuffed the
notes into her jacket pocket. “Come on, we will stop off at her place, see if you
can grab a brush.”

“A brush?” I furrowed my brow. “What are we going to use with a brush, Amy?”

“Why, I am going to teach you your first spell, Eric. Let us leave this-” She said.
She held a finger to her lips, then whispered. “Listen.”