cause the smell. In fact, there was nothing at all there—no hair or soap scum. Nothing.
The front door slammed. Honora jerked and dropped her wand. “Shoot.”
Her wand had fallen down the opening, but was luckily caught at the first bend in the pipe. Honora waved her hand and whispered a levitation spell. That’s when she realized there was something on the wood. A smear of what appeared to be rust came off on her palm when she touched her wand. She had a sinking feeling it wasn’t rust at all, but blood. She pulled a small plastic bag from her jacket pocket and gingerly placed her wand inside so she could take it to a local lab for analysis. She’d found her first clue, and the bloody stain was a bad sign.
The clicking sound of dog toenails on the wood floor approached. Rex jumped up on her leg, and she scratched the dog’s back. “What’s up, little guy?”
Rex circled the shower area and whimpered. Even he knew that something bad went down the pipe. Honora reattached the drain cover and hurried out of the bathroom and down the stairs. She waited on the front porch for Jane to wash her hands at the kitchen sink. She needed the fresh air after being in the stinky bathroom. The neighborhood was the idyllic place to live for a nice witchy family with kids and a dog, but the Rainers didn’t have kids and just the one dog.
Jon’s dog. His familiar. There wasn’t any sign of another animal living in the house. And then it hit her. “Hey, Jane, do you have a familiar?” Honora asked, and stepped back inside the house.
“Not anymore,” she said cryptically. “I’m not an animal person.”
Most witches had familiars. In time, even after an animal passed away, another familiar took its place. Witches and wizards shared stories of faithful familiars sometimes finding a replacement prior to their own death, so the witch wouldn’t be left alone. Familiars helped to absorb and neutralize excess magic, plus they kept a witch calm and steady in an unpredictable world. From her client’s own admission, Jane wasn’t an animal person, but not being an animal person wasn’t a good excuse.
Familiars came in all forms. Beyond mammals, they also included birds, reptiles, and insects. When she was a teenager at the academy, Honora had a friend who had a butterfly familiar, and one classmate had a tortoise, which pretty much minded his own business all day while she was at class, but was a faithful companion and magical equalizer. And though it wasn’t impossible to not have a familiar, it was weird.
“I think that’s all for now,” Honora said, going for her purse. “There’s the minor detail of a deposit and my payment terms.”
“Like I said in the bar, I’ll pay whatever you require.” Jane pulled her gold card out of her purse and handed it to Honora, who took down the number.
“Good. I’ll run this with the non-refundable deposit and a two-week advance to get us started. Sound good?” Honora thanked Jane and left the house. Poor little Rex watched her from the window as she lifted off the ground. His sad gaze weighed on her heart as she made the flight back to the city and returned to her office.
Sawyer stood in the doorway. “How’d it go with our new client?” he asked.
“She’s one of the most interesting and uninteresting witches I’ve ever met, definitely a plain Jane on some levels, but there’s more.”
“Sounds intriguing. What makes her interesting?”
“I get the feeling she’s totally hiding something. I just don’t know what.” Honora slipped out of her jacket and removed her wand from inside. She set the plastic bag on the desk. “Then there’s this. Can you take it to the lab and get it analyzed?”
“Sure.” He stared down at the bag. “What have you done to your wand this time?” He raised his brow with a smirk. Honora had a bad habit of losing, dropping, and breaking them. A wand was lucky to last a few months in her possession.
“Dropped it down a
The front door slammed. Honora jerked and dropped her wand. “Shoot.”
Her wand had fallen down the opening, but was luckily caught at the first bend in the pipe. Honora waved her hand and whispered a levitation spell. That’s when she realized there was something on the wood. A smear of what appeared to be rust came off on her palm when she touched her wand. She had a sinking feeling it wasn’t rust at all, but blood. She pulled a small plastic bag from her jacket pocket and gingerly placed her wand inside so she could take it to a local lab for analysis. She’d found her first clue, and the bloody stain was a bad sign.
The clicking sound of dog toenails on the wood floor approached. Rex jumped up on her leg, and she scratched the dog’s back. “What’s up, little guy?”
Rex circled the shower area and whimpered. Even he knew that something bad went down the pipe. Honora reattached the drain cover and hurried out of the bathroom and down the stairs. She waited on the front porch for Jane to wash her hands at the kitchen sink. She needed the fresh air after being in the stinky bathroom. The neighborhood was the idyllic place to live for a nice witchy family with kids and a dog, but the Rainers didn’t have kids and just the one dog.
Jon’s dog. His familiar. There wasn’t any sign of another animal living in the house. And then it hit her. “Hey, Jane, do you have a familiar?” Honora asked, and stepped back inside the house.
“Not anymore,” she said cryptically. “I’m not an animal person.”
Most witches had familiars. In time, even after an animal passed away, another familiar took its place. Witches and wizards shared stories of faithful familiars sometimes finding a replacement prior to their own death, so the witch wouldn’t be left alone. Familiars helped to absorb and neutralize excess magic, plus they kept a witch calm and steady in an unpredictable world. From her client’s own admission, Jane wasn’t an animal person, but not being an animal person wasn’t a good excuse.
Familiars came in all forms. Beyond mammals, they also included birds, reptiles, and insects. When she was a teenager at the academy, Honora had a friend who had a butterfly familiar, and one classmate had a tortoise, which pretty much minded his own business all day while she was at class, but was a faithful companion and magical equalizer. And though it wasn’t impossible to not have a familiar, it was weird.
“I think that’s all for now,” Honora said, going for her purse. “There’s the minor detail of a deposit and my payment terms.”
“Like I said in the bar, I’ll pay whatever you require.” Jane pulled her gold card out of her purse and handed it to Honora, who took down the number.
“Good. I’ll run this with the non-refundable deposit and a two-week advance to get us started. Sound good?” Honora thanked Jane and left the house. Poor little Rex watched her from the window as she lifted off the ground. His sad gaze weighed on her heart as she made the flight back to the city and returned to her office.
Sawyer stood in the doorway. “How’d it go with our new client?” he asked.
“She’s one of the most interesting and uninteresting witches I’ve ever met, definitely a plain Jane on some levels, but there’s more.”
“Sounds intriguing. What makes her interesting?”
“I get the feeling she’s totally hiding something. I just don’t know what.” Honora slipped out of her jacket and removed her wand from inside. She set the plastic bag on the desk. “Then there’s this. Can you take it to the lab and get it analyzed?”
“Sure.” He stared down at the bag. “What have you done to your wand this time?” He raised his brow with a smirk. Honora had a bad habit of losing, dropping, and breaking them. A wand was lucky to last a few months in her possession.
“Dropped it down a
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