Read Magical Influence Book One Online

Authors: Odette C. Bell

Tags: #romance, #fantasy, #magic, #witches, #humour, #action adventure

Magical Influence Book One (12 page)

BOOK: Magical Influence Book One
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He took a step back, grabbed
his handkerchief, and wiped it across his brow
again
. “But
I'll be out of pocket.”

Granny leaned down, plucked an
errant piece of plastic off the ground, dusted it off on her
fine
woolen
skirt, and handed it to him. “If you are worried about an empty
pocket, here's something to put in it. Now give us the keys and
fill out the paperwork.”

I had to hand it to Granny; she could
get what she wanted when she would put her foot down. But I didn't
want the truck.

Staring back at it, gazing over the
monstrosity, I honestly wondered how this day would end. Could I
really turn into the kind of witch that ate salads, drove monster
trucks, and bullied her cousins into giving her cars for
free?

The alternative would, of course, be
entirely more unpleasant. Death, or something like it.

As Vinnie got the keys, I glanced at
my grandmother.

She arched her neck back, staring at
the swirling mass of clouds above. For a moment the facade broke,
and I saw underneath. A sharp, palpable spike of fear. I felt it,
just like any perceptible witch should.

It reminded me of what was at stake,
it grounded me to the situation. This was more than serious; it was
desperate.

And if it were desperate, I would find
a way to clamber up into that car seat, and drive that huge thing.
Though I really didn’t relish the idea of using it as a getaway
vehicle, if I had to, I would. Because that was what a powerful
witch would do.

Deal with what circumstances you are
given, alter what you can, and craft what you want.

 

Chapter 11

Despite my misgivings, I was now
sitting in the front seat of a monster truck. I wasn't, however,
driving. Granny was. It was quite an experience to be alongside an
old, previously demented woman wearing pearls as she clutched her
hands onto the steering wheel and drove the car like a maniac. Yes,
a maniac. She cut in front of people, tooted on the horn, and once
or twice I swear she had been about to wind down the window and
engage in some road rage.

I was ready to grant this car
one thing: it had a fantastic vantage. You were so high up you
could see everything.
It also gave me a startlingly clear view of the
sky above. I was becoming fixated on it. It seemed that every
moment I wasn't worrying about my impending doom, I was staring off
into those tumultuous clouds. The exact greys and blues seemed to
haunt me.

“We have your car,” Granny said as she
changed gears aggressively and zoomed past a small hatchback. “Next
step is to get you a job.”

I narrowed my eyes and glanced over at
her quickly. I hadn't known about this part. I’d thought we would
head home, possibly over to the hardware store first to get some
wood and hammers, and then fix the hole in the house.

Perhaps she perceived my
misgivings. Taking her eyes off the road, and apparently not
caring, she nodded my way
. “We have to fix your whole life, dear, that
includes everything. We need to get you a car, which we have done,
a job, which we are about to do, we need to give you a sense of
style, a sense of power, we need to fix the house, and we need to
get you a man.”

It took me a while, but I
processed what she had just said. The last bit. The bit about a
man. I spluttered quickly, blinking hard, turning around and not
caring that the seatbelt dug into my neck
. “Sorry, backup, what do you mean
get me a man?”

Finally my grandmother turned back to
the road. How she hadn't crashed, or run over other smaller,
insignificant cars, I didn't know. Magic was no doubt involved,
that, or exceedingly good luck.

“You heard me correctly, my dear, and I
imagine you understand what I meant. Though you don't complain to
me, I hear you on the phone. If you aren’t whingeing about the
dishes not being done and having to work so much, you're
complaining that you are always so unlucky in love. All your
friends are getting hitched, but you can't even seem to get a date.
Not that you try, of course.”

I sneered; I couldn't help
it
. “That's
not true,” I lied patently. “I am... happy being single,” I
tried.

“You should be. There's nothing wrong with
being single. But you are lying. Which means you are unhappy about
yet another aspect of your life. If we change it, hopefully you
will seem more powerful again, and if you seem more powerful, you
will be more powerful. Trust an influence witch.”

My lips crumpled up, my nose
crinkled, and I probably looked entirely
unattractive
. “Is this an intervention? You are treating me like I’m
one of your clients. I understand influence. But I'm trying to tell
you that I don't need a man. I don't need a monster truck either. I
just....”

“Yes? You just what? Have no idea what you
want? You only know you don't like what you currently have? I say
currently,” she snorted quickly, “but that's not quite right.
Because you don't have anything at the moment. You've destroyed it
all.”

“Now hang on a minute here, I haven't
destroyed anything. This storm,” I waved at it pointedly,” and the
dark forces that are after me, they are the ones to
blame.”

She flicked her gaze over to me,
looked stony, and then proceeded to ignore me.

Which left me alone with my
thoughts, which quickly
spiraled into a nervous hellhole. Just what kind
of job was my grandmother going to get me, and worse than that,
what would happen if I let her play Cupid? What sorry soul would
she drag up and try to make me marry?

Feeling my hands slick with sweat, I
fixed the straps on my dress. In my grandmother's current mood, I
guess I was lucky she hadn't made me wear a power suit this
morning. But hey, it would no doubt be a long day. Before she was
done meddling, I would be a new woman. A frightful one, quite
possibly.

I didn't ask where we were driving to
until it was too late.

As soon as I
recognized the
street, and the building and the car, I immediately reached for my
seatbelt, unbuckled it, and prepared to jump from the moving
vehicle.

My grandmother reached over and
clutched her hand around my arm
. “Don't be frightened. This is a logical
choice. Your Aunt Tessa will most definitely have a job for you. A
fitting job.”

My face could have fallen off
from the fear chasing its way through me
. “A suitable job? Are you out of
your mind?”

“Not currently. I'm remarkably lucid,
considering I have to save your life.”

I ignored her
quip
. “I
can't work for Tessa!”

“Why not? It will be exceedingly good
money. Money you can put to use buying new clothes, fresh fruit and
vegetables, and a mirror so you can see yourself practicing your
new powerful, deadly glares.”

My grandmother pulled up next
to the curb, though I say next
– it was on it. She rode up it like she
was parking on a mound. Then she opened the door and jumped out
deftly.

I followed suit, but my moves
were far less coordinated, and once or twice the wind flicked my
skirt up around my thighs. Tugging on it demurely, closing the door
as best I could, I walked around to her. I looked her right in the
eye, hoping that she would understand me
. “I am not going to become a private
investigator.”

She stared at me. Maybe she
noted how serious I was, but in a moment she waved me
off
. “Yes,
you are,” she said in a far stricter tone, utilizing more power and
determination then I had the capacity to give.

With that she locked the door and
ushered me forward.

For a moment I stood there in the
street, looking left and right, wondering whether now was a good
time to run and take my chances on my own. Though it was inviting,
I wouldn't get very far. Not because I didn't know how to handle
myself, but because my grandmother was right; I was a target ready
to be shot. A lonely and lost lamb wandering around in front of the
wolf den. If I ran off down an alley, I could guarantee I wouldn’t
get halfway along it before some shadowy figure would pull out of a
wall and tug me down to hell.

That fact didn't make it any
easier though. I actually had to close my eyes, wincing them as
tightly shut as I could, as I followed her through the plain black
door before us. We climbed three flights of stairs, then out into a
hallway, and in moments we were standing before a relatively plain
door with the words
“Aunt Tessa’s Private Investigator Agency” written across
in neat gold paint.

Why she had called it Aunt Tessa’s
Agency, I didn't know, though I could guess. Everyone in my family
seemed to call themselves by their title; Fred wasn't just Frederic
Sinclair the lawyer, he was Uncle Fred Sinclair the lawyer, as if
everybody was his niece or nephew. And when my grandmother was up
to receiving visitors, she always insisted they call her
grandmother. It was a Sinclair family thing. Another one of our
exceedingly odd eccentricities that set us apart from all the
normal in the world.

As my grandmother strode forward, she
didn't even have to knock on the door. Immediately it opened and a
statuesque woman in a powder blue suit opened it.

Aunt Tessa. She looked like a Greek
goddess; powerfully tall, with regal features, and locks of golden
hair. But don't get me wrong, you wouldn’t put her on the catwalk.
Because although she had all the ingredients that would sum to make
a very attractive package, she had this searing, burning quality
about her that reminded you of the insides of a bomb.

“Grandma,” Tessa nodded her
head.

“Aunt Tessa,” my grandmother replied.
Which was odd, because Tessa was one of her children, not her aunt.
Another peculiar tradition of the Sinclair family.

“What ails you?” Tessa nodded at her
mother, then darted her gaze straight to me. “You've lost your job?
You're here to see if I can give you one? I suppose I can,” she
looked to the side quickly obviously thinking hard.

There was no point in me replying; I
didn't have to participate in this conversation at all, Tessa would
be able to glean the facts just by looking at me. She was a witch,
after all.

She crossed her arms and leaned
against the doorway
. “I have to admit, I don't consider you detective
material. You're too scatty, Esme. And while you practice influence
magic, you'll find a quick fireball never goes astray in our field
of work. Are you sure you want to work for me?”

As she asked her question, she
directed her gaze off me and landed it on Granny.

It was as if I wasn't even in the
room, or worse than that, as if I was a child waiting for my
parents to make up their decision.

“Oh she is very sure, trust me, this is
absolutely what she wants to do,” Granny nodded
vehemently.

“Okay,” Tessa finally pushed herself off
the door frame and waved us inside. She immediately walked over to
her desk, rummaged around in a drawer, brought out some paper,
grabbed a pen, and shoved it all at Granny. “Here is the contract,
sign at the bottom.”

“Sorry, but I'm still in the room.
Shouldn’t I be the one to look over the contract, shouldn't I be
the one to sign it? Plus, I'm not even sure if I want to be a PI. I
think I would be horrible at it.”

“You will be horrible at it, but I'm sure
you'll get by, as you always do,” Tessa conceded with a nod,
clearing a space on her desk so Granny could sign the
paperwork.

I stood there, unreasonably startled
at what was happening. It was unreasonable because I had grown up
with these people. I knew the Sinclair family through and through,
so their antics should not be surprisingly. And yet here I was as
my grandmother was signing me up for a new job, one I didn't want,
and one my new boss clearly thought I was incapable of.

“The pay won’t be good to begin with, but
you can work your way up. I'll put you on the easy cases to start
with, maybe just a little paperwork for now, lost cats, wayward
mail, that kind of thing. Nothing big, nothing that will bring you
unwanted attention,” Tessa leaned back in her chair, her statuesque
form casting a shadow over the desk as the sun managed to spike
through the clouds outside.

“Lost cats, yes, that will do for now.
Once she is powerful again and has gone through this weak, wimpy
stage, we can get her something a little bit harder,” my
grandmother finished signing the papers and handed them
back.

I was shocked. I spluttered
loudly
. “But
I wouldn’t have the first idea how to be a PI. I really don't think
I have any detective skills.”

“Don't worry, I will beat them into you,”
Tessa smiled.

My grandmother laughed.

This couldn't be happening.

As I opened my mouth and prepared for
a much-needed barrage, the sun that had managed to peek through the
clouds suddenly went out.

BOOK: Magical Influence Book One
9.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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