No Way (Claws Clause 1.75)

“You’re a freelancer. I’m aware.” Luciana shrugged in that elegant way she had. The tiniest movement of her jacket-covered shoulders as if she couldn’t understand Shea’s motivations, but wasn’t going to argue. “Your grandmother speaks highly of your skills. Just know, there’s a place for you at Coventry when you’re ready to take it.”

Her grandmother spoke highly of her healing skills. The fact that even the simplest of charms seemed to backfire when Shea tried her hand at them assured that she would never be an official part of the coven.

Still, she respected Luciana and what she stood for. And while a visit from the head witch herself wasn't usual, she’d grown up the beloved granddaughter of one of Luciana's favored witches. With her Nana an ocean away, she had wondered if one of the coven witches would find a reason to stop by her shop.

She just hadn’t thought it would be the most powerful witch on the east coast.

“I was nearby, taking an important meeting in the Para settlement at the edge of the city. I thought, since Grayson’s right here, maybe I should stop by and say hello. I’ve been meaning to check your stock, see if you have anything new.”

“Oh. Well, it’s great to see you. You look amazing.”

Luciana offered her a thin-lipped smile as if saying, I know. “I’m actually in need of amethyst. Do you sell it in your apothecary?”

Shea wasn’t that naive. There was obviously another reason why Luciana had made an unannounced appearance in downtown Grayson, but if she might get a sale out of it, Shea was going to go along with whatever Luciana’s motives were.

“Purple, right? Sure. I have it right over here.” She kept some on hand for her few witch regulars. Amethyst was a nurturing stone that helped create a field of protective energy around a spellcaster. Plus, it was purple. Perfect for a witch. “How many stones would you like?”

“You have to ask?”

Duh. Stupid question. If ever possible, any witch worth his or her craft would always choose three. It was, after all, the magic number. It also represented the Goddess every witch revered. One for the maid, one for the mother, one for the crone.

Without another word, Shea gathered three large hunks of purple amethyst, slipping them in a small leather satchel and tying it off with a bit of twine.

“That’s mine? For me alone?”

It wasn’t just a question. It was the beginning of an intonation. Doing her part, Shea nodded.

The air crackled with magic again. The leather bag disappeared from her loose grasp. She knew, without a doubt, that the crystals were stowed securely in Luciana’s suit jacket pocket.

Once that casual display of magic was done, the head witch lifted her hand, rubbed two fingers together, and conjured a bill.

She placed it on the counter. “For payment.”

Shea wouldn’t dream of insulting Luciana by turning the payment away. Witches as a race were nothing if not mercenary, even among their own kind. Luciana wouldn’t expect the crystals for free any more than Shea would offer them to her in tribute, so the bill was definitely appreciated.

Most demanded diamonds in payment, but a witch would always pay in cash. Whatever diamonds a witch earned, they kept, and Shea couldn’t tap into the gem’s power anyway. She pressed the ‘no sale’ key on her register and tucked the twenty in the til gratefully.

Once the echo of the drawer slamming shut disappeared, Luciana’s gaze turned pointed. “Grayson is your home now, right?” At Shea’s nod, she asked, “Tell me, did you hear anything about the incident that happened downtown last week?”

Shea blinked.

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer Luciana. Since she made the decision not to act as part of the coven, technically she wasn’t considered a real witch. Sure, Luciana humored her because of her close relationship with Shea’s grandmother, but she was still the head of Coventry. She had to be very careful how she responded.

“Only what was reported. Someone”—supposedly a witch, but she wasn’t going to repeat that rumor out loud—“tossed a shifter out of a sixth-floor window. He’s okay, but I heard the local pack is pissed.”

“As am I. I knew the witch who caused all this trouble. She’s made life very troublesome for me lately. I owe her for that.”

“One of yours?”

“A freelancer, like yourself.” Luciana gestured at Shea’s side. “I saw the way you clutch your side as you move. You walk like it was you who got tossed.”

“Can promise it wasn’t,” Shea said, keeping her tone light. Luciana’s vivid red hair whirled like flames behind her, a sure sign she was as angry as she claimed. “I was at my shop all day, except when I closed up early. Actually,” she added, putting two and two together as Luciana watched her with unveiled interest in her purple gaze, “that was the day I started to feel a little off. You’re right as always, madame. My side does hurt. Huh. I wonder if the rogue witch managed to snag me with her spell. I might’ve gotten hit with like a stray curse or something.”

“Perhaps. Priscilla wasn’t worried about who she hurt when she unleashed her fury. She’ll regret that, of course, when we find her again.”

We, Shea noticed. Not they. Like with any other bad apples, the coven would have their own ways of dealing with a rogue witch. Luciana would never let the pack of shifters retaliate against a witch before she had the

chance to.