Page 6 of Ancient Magic

Chapter 2

It wasn’t easy to attract attention in New York City. Not when there was a plethora of pedestrians who clogged the streets with styles that went beyond flamboyant. Skye had seen a man stroll stark naked through Times Square without getting a second glance.

But not even the jaded citizens of the Big Apple could hide their interest as Skye and Maya limped their way into Penn Station. They certainly had a zombie vibe going on. It might have been their torn clothing, tangled hair and layers of dust and plaster that clung to them. Or the blood that dripped from Skye’s arm. Or Maya’s swollen eye where she’d slammed through the plywood and hit the pavement two stories below. Or perhaps it was the grim expressions on their faces that warned the world they weren’t in the mood to... Well, anything really. Unless it included a hot bath and a bottle of aspirin.

Whatever the cause, they were given plenty of space as they settled in the train that whisked them to New Jersey. Neither spoke during the thirty-minute ride. Skye was too relieved that they’d escaped alive, while Maya no doubt brooded on the reason the Benefactor had sent them to the stupid theater in the first place.

Hobbling off the train in Linden, they crossed the parking lot and zigzagged their way through the narrow streets, backtracking more than once. Skye assumed that Maya was making sure they weren’t being followed. No doubt a wise precaution, but Skye wasn’t in the mood to be wise. Or cautious.

She was cold, exhausted, and her arm hurt like a bitch. Time to get home.

At last they turned onto the block where they could see the neon sign stuck over the sidewalk with a coffee cup in the center of a witch’s hat.

The Witch’s Brew. Thank goodness.

Concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other, Skye jumped in surprise as a man abruptly appeared from seemingly nowhere. Instinctively she touched a charm on her bracelet, absorbing the magic. Tired or not, she was ready to fight off an attack.

It wasn’t until he stepped closer that she breathed a sigh of relief.

Joe was a regular fixture in the area. She didn’t know if he had a home nearby or stayed in the local shelter, but he was always hanging around, usually dressed in a velour tracksuit with a fishing hat stuck on his head. His age was indeterminant behind his bushy beard, but she suspected that he was older than she’d first assumed.

“Hey, Joe,” she murmured.

The man leaned toward them, his eyes nearly hidden beneath his hat. “You look like you rolled in the sewers. You smell even worse.”

Skye managed a weary smile. Joe enjoyed calling out insults whenever they passed. She honestly preferred it to the creepy whistles and catcalls that some men thought were flattering.

Without warning, Maya glared at the harmless man. “Not now.”

Joe snorted. “You know what? The smell of you would be an insult to the sewers. You—”

Maya pointed a finger in the man’s face. “Not. Now.”

“Maya,” Skye protested as they limped past Joe. “He’s just teasing.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Skye frowned. Since last summer, Maya had grown increasingly suspicious of Joe.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t understand why not. He’s been hanging around here forever.”

Maya’s features pinched into a sour expression. “He’s more.”

“More what?”

“I don’t know,” the older woman muttered. “But I intend to find out.”

Skye didn’t argue. She was too tired. Besides, arguing with Maya was like smacking her head into a brick wall. And her head had already been smacked into enough walls for one day, thank you very much.

Reaching the coffee shop squashed between a tanning salon and a falafel restaurant, Skye placed her hand against the door to unravel the protective wards and they stepped inside.

It wasn’t a large establishment but to her it was filled with charm. There were small round tables spread around the white-tiled floor and walls that were painted a bright lavender. Skye had recently decorated the large front windows with fall leaves, pumpkins, and black cats in celebration of the Halloween season. And even though they were closed, the air was scented with the rich aroma of freshly pressed coffee and baked pastries that lured customers from miles around to stand in a line down the block. Sometimes for hours.

For those customers who weren’t in the mood for coffee and muffins—or just preferred a bit of peace—there was an attached bookstore where you could sink into one of the cushy armchairs and read without distractions.

Of course, there were parts of the Witch’s Brew that weren’t so charming.

From a small, barren office at the back of the building, the three mages offered their magical expertise. For the right price, a demon could purchase a love potion, a glamour spell, an illusion charm that would last for weeks, and a tonic that could stiffen up a demon’s sagging performance in the bedroom.

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