Witching Games: The Fire Witch Chronicles 1 by R.A. Lindo (best sales books of all time .txt) 📕

“That thought did cross my mind, Miss Grayling, but then she hasn’t been charged with any crime.”

“Come on, Joseph,” Conrad says, looking a little annoyed. “You know she was in Erent Koll’s pocket, and her band of malevs were the ones trying to kidnap us before Koll’s downfall. We got you out of an awkward situation earlier, but playing dumb to the possible implications of your behaviour makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

“Hiding…?” Mutters Joseph, struggling to mask his fear before adding, “Alice has a way of getting what she wants …”

“Yes,” I add, “by holding things over people: things they’d rather be kept secret. So, the question is, does your secret put you in the same bracket as Aradel and her mob …?”

“No, Miss Grayling. She … I … She has a reputation which still sends tremors through less courageous wizards. It’s the suggestion of what she might do, should her request be denied.”

The tremor in his hand gets worse all of sudden: a sign we need to back off before the shaking turns into a stroke. I’m all too familiar with Alice Aradel’s subtle threats and manipulation — the very tactics employed in Society Square to dominate black market trading until Society eyes turned on her, keen to question her loyalties. The evening witch thought better of attending an interrogation, deciding exile was the safer option.

“Easy, Joseph,” I say, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “If it’s easier, just give us an idea of what Alice really wanted the Zombuls for. Her time in The Velynx will force the rest out of her, unless she wants it to be her new home.”

Most prisoners would rather risk crossing Quibbs Causeway than remain locked up in a faculty laced with dark magic … The Velynx words no witch or wizard wants to hear in relation to their questionable behaviour.

“I imagine she’s looking to buy protection in The Shallows,” Joseph offers, “her disguise suggesting she’s exposed out there.”

His hands continue to shake, signalling the need to ease up on the questioning. The little knowledge we’ve gained suggests the evening witch is looking for a new mob to surround herself with, the original cast splintering once the tide turned against them.

“Well,” I say, placing my empty glass on the counter, “I’d choose my trades more wisely if I were you, Joseph. Luckily, it was us tracking you this morning; other Night Rangers might have had you arrested on suspicion of conspiring with an old foe.”

The last statement seems to tip him over the edge ... a spasm causing his right arm to fly into the air, releasing the empty glass which smashes against the wall … the green liquid landing on Lorena Lellant who screams in fury. All is forgiven, I decide, watching Joseph jump up from his stool, enacting a Disira charm to make a quick exit, keen to avoid another grilling.

I struggle to suppress a bout of laughter, watching as Conrad’s superfan storms behind the bar, slamming the tray of glasses by the half-asleep sky urchin before she vanishes behind the red, baize curtain. It’s turning out to be an entertaining morning.

“That was dramatic,” Conrad declares, wiping spots of green liquid off his face.

“The beginnings of a new charm,” I suggest, still laughing. “Just when you’re cornered, you fling out your arm with the object in it, the randomness of it catching the enemy by surprise.”

“We’d need a name for it,” Conrad adds.

“The Splat Attack,” I offer.

Conrad looks unimpressed. “Doesn’t sound very magical.”

“Rapid Splat”

“Isn’t that a kids’ game?” he asks, drawing more laughter.

With our morning duties now complete, we have the rest of the day to ourselves.

“I think the Jysyn Juice has gone to my head,” Conrad jokes, holding onto the bar for support as he feigns drunkenness.

I take him by the arm, indulging his attempt at comedy as we head for the exit. “Don’t worry, handsome, you’ve got the rest of the day to sleep it off.”

That smile returns. “I can think of ways to stay awake …”

With the morning taken care of — mainly entwined on the top floor of The Weary Winzer — we prepare for our night shift: the main duty of all Night Rangers. This morning’s journey tracking Joseph Flint was more of an intervention, ensuring good wizards don’t fall into the traps the marginalised few set for them.

You can’t rid a world of evil entirely, but ignoring it is even more dangerous — something the Society learnt the hard way — so the aim is to track and contain, neutralising potential problems as they arise: Alice Aradel a case in point.

With most parts of the S.P.M.A. running smoothly, night shifts often turn out to be jaunts to favourite realms. There are so many amazing places to choose from, making it hard to have favourites, although The Singing Quarter is my favourite part of The Society Sphere.

Like The Winter Quarter, it operates in two parallel worlds: an unremarkable above-ground one and a more spectacular space. It’s the same process throughout the thousands of buildings making up our secret world: turning a brass door handle anti-clockwise once it’s pulled outwards, waiting for your chosen realm to appear.

It took me a while to venture into all four realms within The Society Sphere: Founders’ Quad and Society Square being my regular stomping ground until drastic events drew me beyond its boundaries, learning how to fight without the protection of my penchant: a Quivven helping with that. Less Society drama means more fun, like morning flights and romantic trysts.

The evenings are for exploration of new places … my aim to visit every place in the S.P.M.A. before I’m eighteen. This might sound ridiculous because I’m only sixteen, but not every realm can be accessed by just stepping through doors: some of them require specific procedures and pathways to access.

Gilweean is one of these places — where the Williynx originate from — and Sad Souls is another: the land of the ageing giants