Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society by R.D. Hunter (pdf e book reader TXT) 📕

his true name’. To tell you the truth, he’s kind of freaking them out.” I felt the beginnings of a smile playing around the corners of my mouth, despite my anger.

“Tell them it’ll be ok. I’m on my way.” He listened carefully for a few more seconds.

“They want to know if he’s dangerous.” Now I really did smile, although it felt more like baring my fangs at a helpless pup.

“Of course, he’s dangerous. He’s my grandfather.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

Even among the Fringe, my Gramps is an odd duck. Somewhat of a local spiritual leader for our kind, you won’t find a more knowledgeable or talented hearth witch within a hundred miles. He was also a big believer in the guiding principle of the cosmos, which meant that he was wherever he was meant to be and the universe would provide him with the means to do whatever he needed to do. This was good, because for all my grandfather’s talents and abilities, he couldn’t remember shit.

He didn’t have Alzheimer's, thank God. Nor did he have any kind of physical malady that could account for his inability to recall the simplest of details. He just lived in the moment, went where he felt compelled to go, and didn’t sweat the details. It could be kind of annoying sometimes, but he’d raised me since I was six years old and I loved him dearly.

I heard him before I even got off the elevator. His usual cheerful voice had a note of frustration in it, like when I shirked my spell casting in favor of good, ole fashioned elbow grease. To him, magic was in everything in wide and varied abundance, so might as well make use of it. To me it was tantamount to cheating, and I only used it when absolutely necessary. It was one of the few things that caused strain between us.

“What do you mean you can’t let me go up?” he said to the exasperated receptionist. “I have to go up. I have important business to attend to.” Gramps was 67 years old, but looked like a man in his mid-fifties. His grey hair was neatly trimmed and combed, and he sported his usual outfit of worn blue jeans and plaid shirt, complete with a large burlap sack slung over one shoulder.

“Sir, this is a secure facility,” she said tiredly. “I can’t allow you to enter the premises without showing some form of identification.”

“Identification? You mean those little slips of paper with your name and picture on them? I don’t have one of those.”

“It’s ok, Linda,” I said, arriving on the scene. “I’ll take care of it.”

“The nerve of that young lady,” he said as I affectionately took his arm and led him back through a set of double doors. “Doesn’t she know what a malicious hag or warlock could do with that information?”

“No, Gramps. She doesn’t believe in magic. To her, it’s just a way of telling who you are.”

“Hmph! I have a good mind to collect her name and throw an incontinence hex her way. Then she’d be a little more careful when requesting a person’s name.” I knew it was all bluster.

My grandpa had more power than most witches, but I’d never known him to use it in a cruel or spiteful fashion. Mostly, he just puttered around his kitchen, making remedies for people who weren’t sick yet and potions for things that hadn’t happened yet…or sometimes happened three weeks ago. You just never knew with my gramps.

I took him into one of the smaller, empty classrooms and gave him a quick hug.

“What are you doing here, Gramps?” I asked. He looked confused for a second.

“You called me…didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. Are you sure you’re not thinking about last week, when I called you and told you I’d meet you for lunch?” His forehead furrowed deeper as he tried to keep track of dates and events. Finally, he shrugged and gave me a sheepish smile.

“I might be,” he said. “I was on my way to visit Mrs. Purnsley. She has that terrible cough, you remember? But I got on the wrong bus. And I tried changing lines at three different stops, but the next thing I know I’m standing outside of this building, so I thought I’d pop in and see you. Apparently, you needed me more than Mrs. Purnsley.”

I considered this for a moment. He wasn’t wrong. If he hadn’t showed up when he did, chances are I’d be packing up my desk right now after giving Lt. Calloway a much-deserved tongue thrashing. In fact, it was safe to say that if he hadn’t arrived at the precise moment that he did, my career would have taken a serious hit courtesy of my damned temper. Looked like I owed the cosmos one.

“I’m fine, Gramps. Really,” I said. “You didn’t need to come all the way out here.” His blue eyes squinted a little as he looked me up and down.

“You’ve been spelling. Your energy levels are the lowest I’ve seen them in two or three lunar cycles. Come sit down.” He started taking things out of his bag and placing them on one of the tables.

“I’d love to, Gramps, but I don’t have the time. I got my first murder case this morning and I have a lot of work to do.”

“Good. You can tell me all about it while I get set up.” Unconcerned, he pulled out a small, handheld broom called a besom, and began sweeping the top of the table. I sighed. I’d been an idiot to think he could be swayed so easily.

I gave him the quick rundown on the case, excluding the particularly gory bits. When I was done, he had finished laying out what he needed. Two clear, quartz crystals, a bowl of water poised over a