Page 17 of Outlaw Witch

5

Later that afternoon, I’m in my happy place trying to forget all about the past couple of days. I’m standing in the middle of a flea market under a railway bridge, dodging the crowds of people digging through piles of old, used junk until I find something useable. What I like best are trinkets and busted jewelry, sometimes little ornaments which I’ll buy as cheap as possible and bring home. Then I use my soldering iron to create something new.

It’s weirdly therapeutic and I spend a lot of my free time in markets just like this. Not that I have much time to spare. With jobs and all the other stuff that always seems to crop up in the warehouse. There’s always someone that needs something.

I’ve already been through to the main section of the market and offloaded the latest order for Luna’s potions. Which is always a clandestine handover, overly dramatic, if you ask me. The witch that runs the market stall doesn’t like the fact that Luna’s potions always sell better than her own. But she makes a ton of profit from us. And people wouldn’t buy Luna’s potions from her directly unless they were really desperate.

No one likes an undocumented witch with no official qualifications selling them things to put inside their body.

Sure, they’ll cram their nostrils and veins full of them if they’rerecreationaldrugs, something that none of us dabble in. But when it comes to potions for when they’re sick? Nah, forget it.

Milling around the flea market is my time to myself. I’ve not been down here in about six weeks, and it’s Rook’s birthday soon and I planned on making him something if the inspiration struck me. So I’m taking my time, wandering between the tables and sifting through the piles of items. I’ve got quite the haul going. The mage behind the table is eyeing me and he’s one I’ve done business with before. I’m about to switch into bartering mode when my cell phone rings.

And my peaceful afternoon shatters.

I’m half expecting it to be Roscoe, checking to see if I’ve got an answer for them yet, even though it’s only been a few hours since I saw them last. But when I see that it’s Una, I answer immediately. She doesn’t talk much and avoids using her cell phone as a rule. If she’s calling me, something’s up.

“Hey, Silver. You need to get down to the riverside.” Her voice is soft and hesitant. “Hanna’s in trouble.”

She hangs up immediately after, but I don’t need to hear anything else. I ditch my pile of stuff and wave to the disgruntled stall holder, knowing I’ve fucked my chances of getting a good deal in the future. Then I haul ass out of the market and head down to the waterfront.

I know exactly where Hanna will be, because it’s the same place I’d find her any other day of the week. There’s a river running along the west side of Arcanum, just beyond Arcanum Heights. One particular stretch of the river has a bunch of cafes and bars where people like to hang out and listen to live music. It’s a pretty relaxed place, although I don’t make it down very often.

Or ever, really. It’s not like I’ve got the money to spend and I’m always on edge sitting out in the open.

Hanna comes down here a few days a week to show off her fire magic. She’s got a real mastery over it and can make the prettiest shapes that really woo the tourists that like to hang around here. Most of the time, it’s humans that are visiting Arcanum to see a glimpse of the magic that’s in plain sight—the floating gardens and the crystals and the majesty of Arcanum Heights.

By the waterfront, it’s mostly street performers that mix in magic with their act. Sometimes you get people juggling swords or conjuring things out of nowhere. Hanna does this whole thing where she does fire breathing, except she does it while wearing two massive wings made of flame to make herself look like a dragon.

It’s cool as shit and the tourists lap it up, judging by the tips she pulls in.

When I get down to the riverside, I can see the situation is a friggin' mess. I skid to a halt and push my way through the crowd that has gathered, and I’m hit by an intense heat that knocks the breath out of my lungs.

There’s a circle of people standing, muttering excitedly, as though they’re watching a show. Except today, they’re separated from the performers by a seven-foot wall of fire.

Shit.

What is it with this day and fire?

Hanna stands on the other side along with three young female witches I recognize as being from some of the highest standing Archarcan families.

Not good. Not good at all.

I’m not worried about anyone recognizing me. I changed my appearance as soon as I could once I was kicked out of Arcanum Heights. After all, it wouldn’t be good to have a dead girl walking around the city. I permanently dyed my hair dark brown instead of its natural whitish blonde, bought a bunch of black-market potions that changed my eye color and face shape.

No one would ever recognize me. And these girls are maybe sixteen or seventeen, so too young to have been in my cohort when I was hanging around in the same circles.

Which unfortunately puts them as only a couple of years younger than Hanna. Old enough for them to remember her from her time at the Arcanum Magical Institute. Before she got kicked out.

Shoving my way to the front of the crowd. I find Una and Mona standing just off to the side, hopping nervously from foot to foot. Putting a hand on each of their shoulders, they visibly relax in my presence.

“What the hell’s happening here?” I ask.

“The usual. They turned up, started spouting shit and throwing stuff at her head while she was in the middle of her routine. Then, ten seconds later, there’s this wall. We’ve been here for a while now and it keeps getting higher and higher.”

I eye the flames and can see she’s right. It’s increasing in size and growing steadily closer to the crowd.

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