The First Witch-Mage by Isabel Campbell & Michael Anderle

Author:Isabel Campbell & Michael Anderle [Campbell, Isabel & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2023-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“’Tis said, she first was changed into a vapour,

And then into a cloud, such clouds as flit,

Like splendour-wingèd moths about a taper,

Round the red west when the sun dies in it:

And then into a meteor, such as caper

On hill-tops when the moon is in a fit:

Then, into one of those mysterious stars

Which hide themselves between the Earth and Mars.”

—Percy Shelly, The Witch of Atlas

By the end of her second week of training, Thea was feeling pretty good about herself. For the most part. She arrived home sore every night and had bought more ice packs, Epsom salt for baths, raspberry leaf tea, and chocolate than she ever had in one week in her life.

On Friday night, she waited in her bedroom for a text from Mia. Her best friend should be on her way any minute now. They planned a night in with plenty of reality TV and, if they got the courage up, opening the damn binding box still sitting on Thea’s mantle.

Twenty minutes after the agreed-upon time, Thea heard a knock at the door. Strange, since Mia always let herself in with the spare key instead of knocking. Thea peeked through the peephole to see her upstairs neighbor, a middle-aged woman named Pamela Henderson. She opened the door, wondering what the hell their landlady had unleashed to send the women down a floor to call for Thea’s aid.

Thea’s neighbors often called upon her for various tasks. She was taller than the old ladies who summoned her to reach things off high shelves. She was thinner than Mr. Clarke, who asked her to pull small things out from behind his stove from time to time.

Pamela looked nervous when Thea opened the door. More nervous than a simple task such as getting something off a shelf required.

“Thea? Oh, you’re here. Good. I’m worried about Mr. Clarke.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “Did he leave one of his cigarettes lit when he fell asleep again and burn a curtain?”

“If only,” Pamela replied. “He’s not there. He hasn’t been home for three days.”

Thea’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t good. Mr. Clarke didn’t work anymore and only left his apartment to smoke outside. Normally, he smoked inside, but when Mrs. Farley was around, he avoided her wrath by going out. He’d also befriended the neighborhood pigeons and fed them scraps of bread. Thea often saw him on her way in after training. Come to think of it, she had not seen him all week.

“I spoke with him on Monday,” Pamela explained. “He had an awful cold. I told him it was from all that damn smoking he does. I insisted he see a doctor, and he said he might.”

Another surprise since Mr. Clarke had strong opinions about those “greedy medicine men.”

“Maybe he’s gone to see one and is staying in a hospital,” Thea offered.

Pamela shook her head. “I’ve called every hospital in the area. None of them have a Mr. Clarke as their patient.”

Thea picked at her lower lip. “Well, if he doesn’t turn up by tomorrow, we should call the police.

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