No Broomsticks Allowed, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
World Castle Publishing, LLC
Pensacola, Florida
Copyright © Heather Harrison 2022
Paperback ISBN: 9781956788877
eBook ISBN: 9781956788884
First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, May 2, 2022
http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com
Licensing Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Cover: Karen Fuller
Editor: Maxine Bringenberg
Dedication
For the love of my life, whose always been my support and showed patience through those times I wanted to give up, I love you. To my children, who are a never-ending source of creativity, I will never find my heart empty. As for the rest of my family and friends, I wouldn’t have this wild of imagination without you. I love all you crazy people.
In Memory of Chris Miller 1979 – 2022
I never thought I would see the end of your journey in this world. I believe in my heart your story will continue. May you run with the wolves and save the damsel in distress.
“Go then, there are other worlds than these.” Jake Chambers.
(Stephen King, The Dark Tower series)
P.S. Give Akira my love.
Chapter 1
Azrael darted past the landlord’s office, the monstrosity in her duffel bag lurching back and forth.
“Knock it off.” She whispered the words, thrusting her elbow against the bag. It stopped twitching, but the steady sound of typing coming from the landlord’s office came to an abrupt stop.
Dammit.
Azrael hastened across the lobby. The stairs were so close. Just another foot. She laid a finger on the worn banister.
“Miss Larken!”
“Crap,” she mumbled, skidding to an abrupt stop. Clutching the bag tightly behind her back, she turned to face Lance. He stood in the middle of the dim lobby, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised. Although he was only a few years older than her, the stern way he pursed his lips made her feel like a child. The bag twitched again.
“Hey, Lan—Mr. Jacobs, I mean. Sorry, but I can’t stay and talk. I’ve got, um, an emergency to deal with.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and ran a hand through his unruly black locks. Her eyes followed the movement, followed his arm as he lowered it, zeroed in on his chest, the way his black T-shirt stretched over it. She cast her eyes to the ground, mouth dry. Why the powers above wasted so much sex appeal on a douche bag, I’ll never know.
“Do you know what day today is?”
She cleared her throat. “Um…Tuesday?”
“It’s the eighth. Rent was due on the first.” He tapped his foot on the ground. “And you, once again, are late.”
A low-tuned whistling noise came from her bag, like air releasing from a balloon, followed by a stench that sent her stomach reeling. “Look, I have this work emergency—”
“So do I. It’s called my tenants won’t pay their rent,” he said, rubbing his hands over his dark stubble. “I don’t care what your type does, what emergencies you have, as long as my rent gets paid.”
“My type?” She glared at him. “Oh, you mean the witch thing?”
“That’s not…,” he started, shoulders slumping as he raked a hand through his hair again, “what I meant.”
She should go. Make a big scene of storming up the steps while she had the chance. It’d be the smart move. What she wouldn’t give to be the type of person who made smart decisions. “Then, by all means, what does ‘my type’ mean? Please explain.”
“Look….” He inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “By all rights, I could’ve kicked you and your roommate out several times by now, but I haven’t. That doesn’t mean I will let you get away with not paying rent.” He locked gazes with Azrael, those piercing blue eyes making her stomach clench. “You are a pain in my ass, that’s true, but the comment about your type was rude, and I apologize.”
She bit her bottom lip. Not once had he apologized to her during one of his “lectures,” as she called them. Any other day, Azrael would have used her advantage. Made him squirm. Today was not the day, though. “Apology accepted.”
His lips twitched into a rare grin, one which accented his distinct cheekbones and dark brow.
Whoa, she thought, her lips parting as she stared at him. The bag twitched again, nudging her back to reality. “Well…anyway…I gotta go.”
She pivoted and fled up the steps, heels clicking against battered linoleum.
From below, he bellowed, “What about the rent?”
“I’ll get back to you on that,” she yelled back. Of all the places to live, we just had to pick this one.
Lance had been on Azrael’s ass since day one. Within seconds of her eyes landing on him, he’d inspired enough sexual fantasies to fill a penthouse novel. Then he spoke, ruining it all. It was clear he had a festering issue with witches. It didn’t help that she’d wheeled in her unconscious roommate, who, even in his drugged state, was still moaning and screaming. By law, Lance couldn’t refuse to rent to her because of those things. Although he could kick her out for the creature, which was tossing itself back and forth inside her gym bag.
“What the hell am I going to do?” she mumbled under her breath. “Caleb’s going to freak.”
Her roommate wasn’t known for his patience with pets, especially not one like this. That, on top of the other news…. Well, he would be miserable to be around for months.
“No sense in putting it off,” she mouthed, sliding the key into the lock and opening the door.
The result was instantaneous. She barely registered the peeling paint and threadbare furniture before all six-foot-one inches of Caleb came barreling around the hallway, baseball bat in hand.
“Whoa, Caleb, chill.” Azrael dropped the bag on the floor and threw her hands in front of her. He wasn’t a big guy, but he had one hell of a batting arm.
“Jeez, Azrael! What the hell are you doing home this early? You damn near gave me a heart attack,” he said, lowering the bat and shoving his sandy hair out of his eyes.
“And when did it become illegal to take half a day off work?”
“You always call first,” Caleb accused, frowning as he leaned against the wall, hand resting on the top of the bat. “You’re the most predictable person I know. Which leads me to believe you being home is a bad thing.”
Azrael finished shutting the door, taking her time to latch the top lock so she could use her foot to nudge the bag under the small entry table.
“Well, it’s nice to see you, too,” she said, stepping past him to the kitchen—or rather, the small alcove with a semi-cold fridge and a stove with two broken burners. Pea green wallpaper adorned the walls, the floral pattern etched on it wilted after years of bubbling and peeling. Azrael focused on re-attaching a loose strip.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t nice to see you, baby girl, but I know you, and right now, I’m sensing trouble brewing.” He slid onto the barstool on the other side of the counter, locking her in an unrelenting stare.
Azrael grabbed two dusty glasses from the top cabinet and wiped them off on her shirt. “I could be sick, you know. Ever think of that?”
“Are you sick?”
“No,” she replied, turning her back to him to grab a half-full bottle of cheap whiskey out of the freezer. She filled both glasses and handed Caleb one. “Cheers.”
“Azrael….”
“Drink first, then we can talk.”
She tilted the glass to her lips. The whiskey burned her throat, but with the day she’d had, she welcomed the burn. Caleb respected her request, allowing her to finish the entire glass before starting his questioning again. She loved him for that.
“How bad is it?” He set his empty glass on the counter, one hand absently rubbing his chin like he did every time he was worried.
“I got laid off.”
“Crap, Azrael,” he said, his eyes wide. “What the hell for? I mean, are they laying off a lot of witches?”
“No. Just me.”
Azrael poured another glass, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She hated crying. Hated how weak it made her feel. She’d be damned if she was going to break down now. Not when she needed to be strong for Caleb.
There was a moment of silence. Without looking, she knew he was studying her, but she couldn’t control her trembling hands or flushed face.
“You know what? Screw that place,” Caleb said, throwing up his hands. “Those bastards don’t recognize talent when they see it. Witches Corp is all about the politics, not about the people. The question is, are you okay?”
“Not really.” She pressed her fingers against her temples.
“Come on.” Caleb grabbed her hand and the bottle of whiskey. “Let’s go sit, and you can tell me all about it.”
She followed him to the couch, taking a seat on one of the threadbare cushio
Caleb grabbed the remote and switched it off.
Azrael sighed. Telling him would be tough. Caleb was in full console-your-best-friend-mode for the time being, but that would change when he realized why she was laid off. She threw a casual glance toward the door. Her bag was still there, shoved partially under the table, but it was gaping open.
Oh crap.
“Look, baby girl,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I know this is tough, and yeah, it sucks, but we’ve been through worse.”
He took a swig out of her glass and passed it to her. She drank deeply, her eyes taking in the dirty walls and matted carpet. Spider webs nested in every corner. No matter how many times they cleaned the apartment, the stain of poverty remained.
If this is all we can afford now, what happens when the money runs dry?
Caleb depended on her, and she’d failed him. Yeah, they’d been through worse, but when the hell was it ever going to get better?
“Ugh…what is that smell?” Caleb asked, causing her to choke on the whiskey. While she tried to clear her throat, he rummaged around the couch, picking up pillows and sniffing them.
“Caleb, I’m not sure this is something we can get through,” she said when her throat was clear.
“Of course it is. We’ll just have to buckle down. Weren’t you telling me the bakery down the road was hiring a waitress, and you were thinking of taking a second job? I’m sure they’re still needing someone. You can work there while you’re laid off. I’ll work day and night if I have to, try to get more customers to my website.” Caleb slid off the couch, peering beneath it.
“Can you please sit back down? I really need to explain.”
His head popped up over the corner of the couch. “You can’t smell that?”
“I can, but this is more important. Please sit.”
He pulled himself off the floor and sat, tossing his arm over the back of the couch, nose crinkled. Azrael sniffed, struggling not to gag. Honestly, the smell wasn’t that bad now that she was getting used to it.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I won’t be able to get a job at the bakery, or anywhere else for that matter. I got laid off because I messed up a summoning spell. I was supposed to have summoned a pink demon as a surprise for a client’s daughter for her birthday, but I accidentally summoned—”
Azrael’s explanation was cut short by the small, pinkish-red creature that jumped onto her lap. Caleb sprang off the couch, sprinting to the other side of the apartment. He turned, pointing his finger at her. “You summoned a stink demon! How the hell did you make that mistake?”
“I don’t know,” Azrael said, pushing the demon off her lap and standing. She paced, hands pressed against her temples. “Look, I was distracted. It was a two-step spell, the summoning, then the attachment….”
“Oh, god, Azrael.” Caleb covered his mouth, gagging as the creature rolled over, scratching its back on the couch. “Please don’t tell me this thing is attached to you.”
“Only for a few months. The client didn’t pay for the full attachment, thank goodness.”
“A few months?” Caleb asked, shaking his head. “Azrael, no one will hire you with a stink demon attached. And god, what if the landlord finds out? How can he not? We will get kicked out.”
Azrael fought the tears that threatened to spill. Secretly she’d hoped Caleb would have a plan, some words of wisdom. They barely had a place to live and food to eat, but at least they weren’t starving on the streets. Now she’d ruined the few things they had to hold on to.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. “I really am.”
“Oh, Az,” Caleb said softly, coming over to pull her into a hug. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who’s holding us back. You’ve taken care of me all these years, and if I wasn’t so messed up, I could go out and get a real job to tide us over. Please don’t cry.”
Azrael held on to him and let the tears flow, too choked up to respond. She didn’t want Caleb to think he was a burden on her. So what if he couldn’t venture outdoors or get a job? He was the best support system she’d ever had. No matter what, she wouldn’t let this tear them apart.
“I might have a plan,” she said, pulling back and wiping her nose. “First though, I want you to promise me you know you are not a burden. Life would be awful without you.”
“I guess I can’t be much worse than a stink demon,” he replied, a glint of humor in his eyes.
She gave him a shove. “Maybe it is time I find myself a new best friend.”
“Looks like you already have one.” He nodded at the monstrosity curled up on their couch. Azrael sighed and stared at the demon. It wasn’t ugly, necessarily, at least not compared to some things she’d seen. It was scaly, with pointy ears and a razor-sharp tail, but its eyes were large and bulbous, making it look innocent. She’d have to work on the biting thing. Those teeth, although small, were sharp as razors. Of course, the smell was the biggest problem. It reeked of putrid trash and dead animals. Nothing could cover up the smell of a stink demon.
Thank God I don’t have a love life. At least the demon can’t take that from me, she thought.
“So, you said you had a plan?”
Yes, she had a plan, one she had come up with on the fly. It wasn’t a good one, it wasn’t something she wanted to do, but it was all she had. “You know that notice I told you was hanging in the lobby for help wanted a few months ago?”
“The one for the maid?”
“Yes. Well, it’s still up. If I got the job, I would be close to the apartment. I could check on the stink demon between cleaning rooms. That should keep him from breaking out and following me. No one would ever know.”
“Yeah, but Lance hates you.”
“Oh, he reminded me of that today when he caught up with me in the lobby about the rent.”
“So, how are you going to convince him to hire you then?” Caleb asked.
Azrael didn’t have an answer for him.
Chapter 2
“Can’t you use your magic to do something about him?” Caleb nodded toward the stink demon who was currently snoring in her lap. With its ears flattened against its head, the thing reminded her of a teddy bear. A stinky, scaly teddy bear. An empty bottle of whisky sat on the table—beside it, a half-empty jar of street-grade moonshine. Candles dotted every bare surface, their flames making the shadows on the walls dance, but not even the scents of lavender, sandalwood, and cloves combined could smoother the odor of the creature, or “Smellicious,” as Caleb had named him.
“You know as well as I do that I can only summon.”
“Then summon something up to eat that thing. Problem solved.”
“Caleb!” She kicked him. “You are a heartless bastard. Plus, it’s against the law. He was registered the moment I summoned him; therefore, he is now considered a civil resident with the same rights as you or I. Trust me, I looked into it.”
“And you call me heartless.”
“No, I call you my gay bestie. The fact you’re a heartless bastard is an observation.”
Caleb clutched a hand over his heart. “How dare you call me gay. That does not do me justice. I am deeply hurt.”
“Is there another term for I’ll sleep with anything that breathes, as long as it’s not female?”
“Yes, it’s all-male-sexual. And at least I don’t sleep with shapeshifters, unlike someone I know. At least I know what type of demon I’m really sleeping with.” He grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. She dodged it, waking Smellicious in the process. The demon jumped off her lap and attacked the pillow, clenching it between its wide jaws.
“That was five years ago,” she said, cringing. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Not as long as I still have the memory of waking up to a Gigorian beetle in my kitchen, making a cup of coffee with one of its six arms.”
Azrael grimaced and poured them both another glass. Good thing she didn’t have to work in the morning because she was sure to have the hangover from hell. Still, a best friend drinking night was exactly what she needed.
