Spitecaller Ch. 1
Chapter 1
I slipped the book quietly back into its resting place amongst the dusty shelves. Making my way back to the front of the store, my tail swung back and forth, brushing past the novelties that decorated the place. "Curiouser and Curiouser" was a hole-in-the-wall old book and antique store nestled in the market district of town. How Mr. Latimer got this oddity in such a prime location was beyond me. It must have something to do with the merchandise he deals in. The old badger always seemed to have a smile on and a kind word to say, even if it does not fit the situation. He is a little crazy. I am quite sure, but he grows on one.
I was alone as per usual. The old coot did not particularly like working on the weekends so I had to make do on my own. It does not bother me, though. I prefer the solitude.
I especially prefer it when I am living dangerously.
The front desk creaks as I press my paws against it and slip behind. Thirsty, I took a quick swig of the lemonade I keep behind the counter. The raised area that houses the ragged register, order sheets, and ledgers allows for a good view of the store. Blowing some dust off the mirror I placed there earlier, I lift it up to regard my reflection. Even through the spiderweb of cracks, I can see the black and white markings of my vulpine fur and my two green eyes. Green eyes with red fur. Ick. I would much prefer a more exotic matching. This brings me back to my original plan. I need to cast a spell.
Magic is not dangerous. Well...mostly. What is, however, is weaving in a place that is not regulated. Weavers, or practitioners of magic, have to adhere to certain rules and maintain a balance. This store is a non-regulated zone because of all the artifacts inside. Which means, there is free magic for me! If, of course, I do it within store hours and without anyone seeing me.
"Sir, can I get some help over here, please?" The whiny voice of an elderly customer floats from beyond the stacks.
My eyelids droop and I scold myself for not putting the "five minute break" sign on the door.
"I'll be right over, ma'am!" My voice carries throughout the store. I glance at the accoutrements arrayed on the desk. I have the mirror, the herbs for the censor, my ritual knife, the homemade fetish...ah! Reaching into my pocket, I lay a small slip of paper with a name written on it. I gleaned that little beauty from the latest shipment of books the store received.
Turning the corner, I put on my best salesman smile. It comes off a little plastic with my foxy features but its the best I can do.
"How may I help you today? Looking for a book or an antique?" I query the female raccoon in front of me.
She looked like one of those soccer moms that took one too many trips to the fur darkening salon. She also had one of those haircuts that seemed all the rage in the middle-aged bracket: short bangs in the front and a spiked explosion in the back. It is haircuts like these that give me those precious moments where I can not tell if I am checking out an eighteen-year-old or his mother.
"I was wondering if you had one of these in blue? I like it, but the color doesn't match the outfit I bought today."
She was regarding a particularly beautiful necklace from around the Aztec period. It was one of a kind.
I tried to hide the distaste from my voice as I carefully took the necklace back from her and returned it to its glass case. "Ma'am, this is the only one of its kind in existence. And its fine with the topaz jewels in it. If you'd like a recommendation to a jewelry shop in the area, I'd be happy to direct you there."
"Hmm...no. That's fine." She responded, picking up some shopping bags. "I was just browsing anyhow."
I had to watch her "browse" for another twenty minutes until she finally left the store. In the back of my mind, a little voice was whispering to me about how I should be a better salesman and actually do the job he was paying me for. Another voice chimed in with how I was hired on to watch the store. Second voice wins.
I almost make it back to the counter when I hear the front door open. With my ears twitching irritably, I turn around to at least greet the newcomer and get them out as quickly as possible. It is Tuesday for heaven's sake. Why are there so many customers?
"Hello! Welcome to 'Curiouser and Curiouser', how may I he-...oh!" It was our delivery otter.
Jace was one of the banes of my existence. I pride myself in being able to talk to any guy in any situation. I am a young, attractive fox with ambition and magical talent. I do not have time to get all dewy-eyed over someone I see every once in a while. Especially someone I work with. Jace comes by at least once a week to deliver a shipment and he usually wears the same thing: a tight t-shirt of varying colors and basketball shorts. I do not know which company lets him wear that, but thank the Gods he works for them.
You see, the thing that gets me the most is how the awkwardness seems to snowball. We shared a few weird eye-contact sessions from across the store and suddenly I am obsessing over how to act while he is around. I take a deep breath and tell myself I do not care. I really should not lie to myself, but I am so damn gullible.
"Afternoon, anything special for me today?" Gods, Ian, do try and keep the porn star lines to a minimum.
He turns his uninterested look towards me and arches an eyebrow. "Nope. Just usual stuff."
"Good deal, I'll help you unload then." I will just go die in a corner now.
We work in silence for a couple minutes as I try to think of something to say. He seems like a nice guy and it would be nice to at least have a professional relationship with someone I work with. I do not just want to fuck him. Okay, I do want to fuck him. But, I would be happy to just have a time where I am not concentrating on looking away from his athletic body. Or his arm tattoos. Or his great ass.
And...back to square one. Schoolgirl or creep?
The shipment was luckily only ten boxes today and they looked like mostly books. It would not take long for me to finish this and get back to my summoning magic before the store closes. Bully for me.
"Alright, take care of yourself." I say to the otter as he is leaving the store. He smiles back and waves. Good. I can do short sentences and greetings. I might be a level two friendship wizard now. Ew no, sorcerer. Not wizard.
I take a deep breath and exhale, putting myself back into a working state of mind. I had something to take care of. My workplace was all set up and I had all the ingredients. Now, to summon the spirit.
Binding a spirit to a fetish was one of the more difficult tasks with magic nowadays. Conjuring energy and manipulating it has been simplified and commercialized so that everyone could do it. Working with the aether though, now that was impressive. I had been tracking down the name and summoning ritual for one of the higher spirits in order to use its energy for my own purposes. This shop was not only invaluable with its clandestine uses for mana thievery. I also could use the merchandise as I wanted without stepping past any red tape. Universities would send representatives every once in a while to see if they could dig up any treasures. However, the more commercial weavers of magic bypassed this place for the lower-cost economy stores. That's fine with me.
"Tazkafren." I whisper softly. The name was scrawled on the slip of paper. It took days of searching through the archives in the back for this little jewel. And now that I know the spirit's name...
I reached inside myself where the coils of my life-mana supply are kept. Starting the basics of magic-weaving, my fingers drew intricate designs, spirals and threads danced in the air in front of me. The multicolored mana of the store attached itself to the threads coming out of me and the energy for the spell was gathered.
Placing one paw over the mirror, I grabbed my knife with the other and brought it to just under my triceps. This was the best place to draw blood. Its usually unnoticed and most people do not think to ask. Clenching my teeth, I draw the knife across my underarm with extreme care. I just want a small cut, not a slicing of my brachial artery. The last thing I need is to bleed out all over my job.
I can feel the magic change flavor. It is no longer the delicate neutral magic that underlines everything. My blood has tinged the energy red and it is good for weaving a summon. Setting the knife down, I bring the censor closer and grab a nearby coil of mana. Concentrating, it sparks a flame and then smoke from the herbs. The cloying scent of gardenia petals and lavender mixture fill the air. Finally, I begin to strike the wood of the desk, turning the entire altar into a ceremonial drum. O the mirth if someone were to find out about this.
"Tazkafren, Tazkafren, I name you. I summon you." I chant with increasing tempo and volume. It is a simple chant, I know. It works the best especially if one is throwing a net into the aether wildly trying to find something. Thank heavens I have the spirit's name and mirror. If I was trying to just summon a random one, there is no telling what might appear. Then, I realized something. I had never laid down a protection circle.
"Fuck!" I exclaim and cut the magic short. The sudden silence in the store was jarring with the buildup gone. I set the knife down irritably and turned to grab some salt. My breath caught in my throat as a shift in the air pressure of the room told me that I was not alone.
Icy fingers trailed down my spine.
You need to turn around. I tell myself. Turn around and act like this is normal.
I straightened my back and set the salt down in one motion. My ears twitched as I turned back around to see what I had wrought.
There was a satyr-like spirit leaning against the desk. He was very tall, a little over six feet with dark fur-less skin showing. His face was very beautiful, but also very alien with its elongated cheekbones and pronounced brow. It was his eyes that froze me again. They were dark obsidian.
"You have forgotten a binding circle, mortal." His grin showed predatory teeth. "Are you brave...or foolish?"
I reached deep down past my mana to where my theatrical training was buried, along with my memories of which alcohols not to mix and which superheroes were Marvel or DC.
"Oh please, Taz, this is a routine binding ritual. I needn't bother." I did not use his full name to invoke more power and I might have a chance of tricking him into thinking I am more powerful than I actually am. Score.
He leveled a weighty stare into my eyes. Crap.
"I will be binding you to that fetish over there for a usage in a one time spell. Then, you will be free to go back to the aether with the rest of your friends." I said matter-of-factly. The spirit's eyes drained of anything that could be warm, loving, or mortal. I saw nothing in those two pools of darkness that could be considered friendly.
"You may have your attempt."
Lightning quick, I grab thick cords of the remnants of the spell and hurled them at the spirit. He deflected them with both of his hands and stood up from the desk. One hoof hit the floor and then the other. He advances toward me.
Shit.Shit.SHIT! I scream in my head as I cycle through the knowledge I gleaned from Tazkafren's chapter in the book. He favored gardenia for summoning rituals. Sacrifices were better but personal blood will still work. Citrus was an abhorrent repellant. Citrus. Citrus?!
The demon finally reached me but I stood my ground. I had only one chance and I could not afford to fuck this up. As he reaches for me, I backpedal and spin, delivering a solid roundhouse kick to his jaw. Hey, magical knowledge was wonderful but sometimes martial arts saves your life. Even when it comes to spirits.
The demon's head cracked backwards and I made a mad dash for the desk. I felt him move behind me with the speed of the wind and a fire exploded in my chest. He was a spirit of envy, greed, and lust combined and his power coursed into me. I clench my teeth and swipe the fetish in my left paw and brandish my cup in the other. Pain seared farther into me as memories of the past were dredged up. They are not real! I face the spirit and dropped to my knees clutching my left paw to my chest. It hurts. Ah Gods! The pain!
He chuckles darkly. "The spirits of water will not come to your aid now, fox."
I try to think of some pun to say as I lift up the cup.
"Fuck you, ass-bag. It's lemonade!"
The yellow liquid hits the spirit square in the face and he recoils, wracked with pain. I lunge forward with the fetish, dropping the now empty cup and stab into his chest with my left paw. The threads of the spell stay still in the air for one clear moment before a whirlwind of energy binds the demon where it stands. I hear a soft pop in my ears as the pressure drops in the room and suddenly I am alone, holding a gently glowing fetish.
I sighed heavily and sank to the floor. Never again will I ever forget the protection circle. Never. Ever. Ever-ever. Ever.