Anna's Hope Episode One Read online

Chapter 2

  Anna approached the imposing brick and stone building, a knot of nerves causing havoc in her gut. With one hand on her tummy and the other carrying her patchwork bag, she mustered the courage to walk up to the doorway.

  Two wizards were on guard, and they both shot her bored looks.

  “Ah, I’m here to see Wizard Aaron – I mean Arana. I have a new job. He’s going to show me around, I hope. Or maybe he’s just going to greet me, I don’t know. Nothing much has been explained to me—”

  “We don’t care, lady,” one of the wizards interrupted, his tats peeking out from under his tight grey t-shirt. As a light wind brushed his neck-length greasy blond hair over his shoulder, he shook his head. “Just get inside.” He jammed his thumb towards the door.

  “Sorry,” Anna said in a weak voice as she hurried past the wizard.

  Once inside, she took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. This place – being the HQ of the Magical Enforcement Council – wreaked with magic. With a hearty cough, her eyes started to water.

  Plunging a hand into her bag, she fumbled for her hanky.

  “Do you mind?” Luminaria trilled as she popped her tiny head out of the bag. “I was sleeping.”

  “Sorry, I just need my handkerchief.” Anna negotiated around Luminaria’s snarling form until she managed to pry her floral tissue from a side-pocket.

  “You’re so pathetic. Mark my words, they’ll take one look at you, and give the job to someone else.”

  Anna tried to ignore Luminaria. She concentrated on finding her way through the labyrinthine halls instead.

  There was no one waiting by the front doors to direct her to Aaron’s, neither was there a helpful building map or a reception desk.

  Nope, there was simply a series of branching corridors leading to closed doors with out-of-sequence room numbers. The first one she passed read ‘356’, the second, ‘09’. Either the builder had been particularly dyslexic, or the rooms changed themselves around. Considering this was the building of the Marchtown MEC, she imagined it was the latter.

  “Okay,” she mumbled to herself as she wandered off down the corridor, drawing her phone from her pocket to check where she was meant to go. “It should be around here somewhere.”

  “We’re going to get lost and end up as skeletons scattered over the floor. When we start to starve, mark my words, I’ll eat you first.”

  Anna ignored Luminaria. Over the years, she’d become particularly good at it. It was a survival mechanism. If she didn’t find some way to block out the cocky evil cat, she’d go spare.

  “Alright, it should be just over here.” Anna surprised herself by stopping in front of the right door. “Ha, I found it! Room 01. Here it is.” She pocketed her phone with a smile and knocked.

  “You did not find it – you got lucky,” Luminaria sniped, “finding entails skill, girl, of which you have none. You couldn’t find your way out of a locked coffin, let alone into a wizard’s office.”

  “… Ah, who could find their way out of a locked coffin? That’s a really weird thing to say.”

  “A witch could. True witches can do anything.” Luminaria glared at her pointedly, then popped her head back into the bag, disappearing from sight with a flick of her tail.

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  At the same moment, Aaron opened the door. He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry if you feel I made you wait, Miss …?”

  “Summersville,” she squeaked. “And no, no, I—”

  “If you could just take a seat,” he barely glanced at her as he turned and walked back to his desk, “I have something I need to finish.”

  “Oh, sure.” She quietly sat down.

  And started to wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  Aaron’s office was suitably roomy. It was also suitably majestic. It matched the guy’s personality perfectly. Suave and debonair with the kind of class you rarely see this side of ‘50s classics.

  It also somehow had a commanding view of the city’s stacks and office towers. A fantastic view considering this office was technically on the first floor. She hadn’t entered a lift or gone up a single flight of stairs, and yet she guessed they were easily twenty stories up.

  Not that surprising when you considered magic was involved. In fact, considering the sheer amount of raw potential concentrated in this place, it was a surprise this office didn’t have a great view of the center of the sun or the surface of the moon.

  Anna brushed her hair over her shoulder as she continued to wait.

  Aaron didn’t look up. Not once. Fair enough – he was a busy guy. He wouldn’t have time to deal with a silly little witch while he was protecting the world from evil wizards.

  He had a patient expression as he methodically leafed through a massive magical tome propped on the desk before him. The book was easily as big as a TV, and looked just as heavy. It had intricately designed gold motifs twisting up the black and blood-red spine.

  She could sense it was magical. It made her skin itch and her throat tingle.

  Just as Anna resigned herself to waiting here all day, something horrible happened. The same horrible thing that always happened to her – Luminaria.

  With an irritated snort, she snapped her head out from the bag, instantly glaring at Aaron. “Do you mind, wizard? We have not come here to watch you reading. You may be particularly full of yourself – but trust me, boy, nobody is interested by the fact you’re literate. Surprised, granted, but not interested. Now hurry the hell up.”

  Anna sucked in a shocked breath and tried to shove Luminaria back in the bag. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Wizard Arana. She doesn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, I do. Now get your hands off me.” Luminaria swatted Anna, scratching her across the hand.

  “Ow.” Anna jerked her hand back.

  Aaron finally looked up. He had a pen in one hand, the other halfway through turning a page. At first it looked as if he had a patient expression on his handsome face, but it quickly became bored. “Do you mind?”

  “Do I mind?” Luminaria’s eyes flared with indignation as she repeated his exact tone. “Let me think?” She tapped a claw to her chin. “Yes, I mind! You are wasting my time. Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, I am aware of who you are,” Aaron clasped his fingers together and gazed blankly at Luminaria, “you’re Luminaria von Tippit, one of the most prolific witch criminals to have lived. You personally created some of the most devastating dark spells of the Middle Ages. You stole and connived your way into history. And yet, despite all those crimes, you never went down for a single one. You managed to dodge your trial by conveniently dying.”

  Luminaria narrowed her small golden-green eyes and shot Aaron the kind of look that should have withered him into a prune. “My death was not convenient, wizard. And I take umbrage at your accusation. I died when Nature dictated.”

  “Indeed.” Aaron smiled around his words. “And I take umbrage at having you in my office, let alone my city.”

  “Well, Mr Wizard, what are you going to do about it? Oh yes, nothing. You have no legal recourse against me. I’m here rightfully, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can say to that, is there?”

  Though Anna was right there in the room, neither of them looked at her. She felt like wallpaper blending into the background. Then again, when didn’t she feel like that?

  Even though they both steadfastly ignored her, she had to say something before this erupted into a slinging match. A magical one.

  She cleared her throat and shifted forward until she sat on the very edge of her antique chair. “I’m sorry, Wizard Arana, please excuse her. But I um … I’m here about that job. I was told to meet with you directly for my introduction.”

  “You may have dodged your rightful comeuppance, Luminaria, but you’re not untouchable. If you fall out of line again, you will be punished. Eternally,” he added darkly.

  “Ah, excuse me?” Anna tried to get their attention.

  T
hey both ignored her.

  Luminaria chucked her head back and chuckled, the effect so high-pitched and cute you’d be forgiven for finding it funny. Well, you wouldn’t be forgiven by Luminaria – she would eat your soul and curse every remaining second of your life.

  “I wouldn’t laugh,” Aaron warned, “your heirloom contract with the Hopes might have saved you so far, but you will step out of line one day. And I will be waiting.”

  “Oh you scare me, little wizard. Can’t you see? I’m positively trembling.” Luminaria brought up a paw and held it perfectly steady, as she wobbled her bottom lip in mock fright.

  “Ah, hello, guys?” Anna raised her voice.

  This was not how she’d envisioned this meeting. She’d hoped Aaron would politely show her around with his trademark debonair smile lifting his cheeks and making his eyes sparkle.

  Then again, when Luminaria was involved, things never went to plan.

  Anna would have left her at home, hell, she would have left her back in Vale, but she couldn’t. She was bound by the contract.

  She was responsible for Luminaria. She had to look after her. From her health to her protection, Anna couldn’t leave the possessed cat alone.

  If she did, things would start to break. In particular, Anna would start to break.

  Heirloom contracts were a particularly nasty business. Unfortunately some distant relative several hundred years ago had been foolish enough to enter into one. Now every successive generation had been burdened with the duty of looking after one Luminaria Von Tippit – the most ill-mannered and raucous witch since Hecate herself.

  Fortunately heirloom contracts were well understood by the magical community. No one blamed Anna – they saw it as the rightful curse it was.

  The MEC and Aaron had known all about Luminaria before they’d offered Anna the position. Most magical enforcement councils did not discriminate based on such situations. Plus, it wasn’t as if Luminaria was a threat to anyone. Verbally, yes. Magically, no.

  The terms of an heirloom contract prevented Luminaria from practicing magic unless in self-defense.

  Still, if given the chance, Luminaria would shout at Aaron until the sun went down.

  Unnoticed by the bickering pair, Anna reached into her bag, withdrew a small can of tuna, and opened it quietly.

  Immediately Luminaria stopped, mid-insult, and sniffed the air.

  Anna placed the tuna on the floor, and Luminaria jumped down to eat it without so much as another word or curse.

  Aaron, cheeks reddened from his fight, looked across at her and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have thought that would work on her,” he admitted quietly.

  “She loves tuna. More than fighting. More than magic. More than anything. It’s the one way I can keep her quiet,” Anna mouthed. “Anyhow, so, ah … do you have a job for me?” she asked hopefully.

  Aaron didn’t even try to smile. “No. That position has been filled.”

  She blinked. It was so big and overwrought, she would have looked like an actor on a stage. Problem was, she wasn’t. This was real.

  “Ah, you’re joking, right?”

  “That position has been filled,” he repeated firmly.

  “But … I came all the way here from Vale on the promise of a job.”

  “No, you were not promised anything. You were offered, but unfortunately the offer no longer stands as we’ve found someone else to fill the vacancy.”

  Anna tried to swallow. It was hard, because it felt like her throat had frozen. “Um … I … packed up my whole life to come here.”

  Aaron looked unmoved. “There are other jobs available in this town, both mundane and magical. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

  Anna was shell-shocked. Was this punishment for Luminaria? It had to be. No one could be cruel enough to let someone schlep all the way to a new city for a job that no longer existed.

  “Look, if this is about my cat,” she tried.

  “It is not about von Tippit. The Magical Enforcement Council of Marchtown does not discriminate based on heirloom contracts. The simple fact is, we found someone better for the position, and we employed her. Your skills will still be useful somewhere else.”

  Just not here. Ha?

  “Oh. Ah, good bye then,” she said weakly.

  Anna slowly leaned down, grabbed up the tuna can, hooked her bag over her arm, and walked out, Luminaria following the still half-full tuna, mewing pleadingly.

  “Good bye, Miss Summersville.” Aaron didn’t look up from his book.