Witches for Hire (Odd Jobs #1)(2)
THE OUT to Lunch sign with a wide smiley face was the most cheerful part of Clive’s day. Breathing a sigh of relief at the imminent break from hours of awkward silence, suspicious stares in his direction, and several mishaps in hooking up the Internet, he locked the front door of the shop. Try as she might, Simone’s warmth couldn’t hide the fact that she expected him to fail at everything, and Mr. Ragsdale had made as little contact with him as possible. As soon as the clock struck twelve for lunch, his employees sped off in opposite directions. He was sure he hadn’t caused any insult, and sniffing his armpits just in case only provided a normal midday smell, nothing untoward. Confused, Clive returned to his own car and drove to a restaurant where nostalgic tales of battles and a sympathetic ear regarding Earth Realm’s strange intricacies awaited him.
“I FELT murderous intent when I walked through the door, and it turned out to be one of my employees,” Clive told his fellow knight, Mia, as they sat in a restaurant filled with mounted animal heads and fishing equipment. He didn’t trust the rowboat dangling over their heads, but Mia assured him it would remain secured to the ceiling. “I know I’ve changed over the years, but I doubt I’ve become someone people want to kill before a first meeting.”
Mia’s beer sloshed past the edges of the bottle’s rim as she laughed. “They’ve been through a nasty set of employers.” Unlike Clive, sitting in civilian clothes without the protection of thick leather or armor didn’t bother her. The vibrant blue of her pants and shirt edged in beaded cuffs attracted the gaze of several patrons. Its shimmer in the overhead lights looked so familiar that Clive squinted to see it closely.
His breath caught. “Is that your Sky Cloak?”
Mia grinned wickedly. “You’d be amazed what a dwarf who knows his way around fairy cloth can do.” She shrugged. “I got tired of it hanging around my closet, and since there’s no chance of me going back, I decided to be bold.”
Shaving your head is bold. Desecrating the symbol of your family and…. Clive blinked. Ohhhhh. Well, that’s one way to get back at them. He cleared his throat. “How did the dwarf manage to cut it?”
“Clippers made from sharpened basilisk teeth.”
“In this world?”
“Yep.”
Everyone had told him that he would practically be living in squalor in such a low-magic realm like Earth, but it didn’t lack all the comforts from his old world. “So where was I before you shocked me with this outfit I know you wore on purpose today? Ah, I was complaining about the demoralized castoffs I didn’t know I had to employ until half the paperwork for acquiring my business was signed.”
“Consider it a public service that works toward your green card.”
Clive leaned forward. “Is there any way I can trade them for people who respect me?”
“Not for the first year. You’ll get used to them.”
He shuddered. “They’re always watching, waiting for me to do something wrong. Especially Mr. Ragsdale.”
Mia’s eyes widened. “Tell me you didn’t get a woman named Simone Machado assigned to you too.”
Knots formed in Clive’s stomach, as if he needed any more stress. “If I did?”
One thing Clive didn’t miss from his home was the slanted gaze Mia used to give him when they were surrounded by evil mages she blamed his bad luck for attracting. The same look she was giving him right then. “Why do these things only happen to you?”
In Clive’s peripheral vision, a man pointed at the TV and began speaking excitedly. It was the distraction he wanted instead of confronting the bad news that awaited him, so Clive turned to see a man on-screen dressed in a white tuxedo flicking cards into doves. He bowed while taking off his top hat just as barely dressed men and women whipped long red sheets in the air. They swirled into a cape that landed delicately on the man’s back. Black hair billowed around his face as he drew a wand, summoning true magic. The man held a finger over his mouth, and then everything behind him went dark. Smoke enveloped the man, and he was replaced by the name Desmond the Great with a website underneath where fans could purchase tickets.
The mostly mortal eaters in the restaurant calmly went back to their meals as if nothing shocking had happened. “How can he practice so openly?” Clive hissed to Mia. The Council had made it clear to him during his immigration interview that he was not to even magically light a candle in front of a camera.
“Mortals here see him as those charlatans in the pointy hats who create pretty illusions for entertainment.”
“No one told me that was an option.”
“It isn’t. He was born in this world. I would stay away from him if I were you. His aura is pure black, and even the Witches’ Council steps carefully around him.”
Clive sank into the cushioned booth seat. “It must be nice to be flashy and not worry about being deported.”
“It’s your first day after the orientation period, and you’re already considering fame.”
“I envy his freedom, not his popularity.” Clive flicked the thin round cardboard under his glass. “It takes a while to get used to not using magic for these small things.” Most tavern keepers placed simple stain-prevention spells all around their establishments if they could afford it.