Earlier in the story, Narrator is using an amethyst to see the future, a little bit like a magic 8 ball. Then Nikki gives her an amethyst pendant for protection, so I thought, “What happens if readers get confused by all the amethysts?

Then I thought it might be fun to show an actual magic 8 ball on the cover. But how would I (or the artist) make it look like an amethyst? Then I realized Narrator should just use a magic 8 ball because that would be funnier so I ended up changing it and will make sure the takes effect from the beginning when I revise.

This is this week’s effort:

That afternoon, Nikki called to say that she had my pendant available and I agreed to meet her at the local coffee shop. Nobody in LA ever goes to anyone else’s house. I don’t under this rule but it exists.

I got there first because all those years of training as a reporter had drilled into me the necessity of not actually missing a breaking news event, and even though most of my writing hadn’t involved breaking news, the habit once instilled stuck with me.

I was sipping a hot black tea when she came twittering in, wondering at my sanity because today was a summer day and I could have chosen an iced something like Nikki was doing, something with chocolate and whipped cream. She was a woman who was clearly not worried about blood sugar or cholesterol.

“So good to see you,” she said, leaning in to kiss my cheek, which startled me because we weren’t exactly friends. But, LA.

“Thanks for meeting me,’ she said. “I wanted to get this to you ASAP.” She named each letter: aye ess aye pee.

“Of course,” I said. No one in LA says “you’re welcome,” although “de nada” is extremely popular, including among Anglos.

“I haven’t been out this way recently,” she said. Coming inland from Santa Monica was like going to the dentist; you did it because you had to. “They’ve really built up Overland Avenue, haven’t they?”

“Gentrification strikes the neighborhood of Palms,” I agreed.

“Do you mind about it?”

I shrugged. “It pushes rents up a lot and it makes street parking a pain in the ass. I kinda liked what it was before. But over the years I’ve noticed that neighborhoods either get revitalized or decline and I guess I’d prefer to see the neighborhood revitalized.”

She nodded, took a sip of her frou-frou concoction, then said, “Oh,” and leaned over to dig in the tote bag she’d brought with her, muttering silly old woman under her breath.  

“Here.” She produced a small wrapped package.

“What is it?” I accepted it slowly.

“I told you I was making you an amulet.”

But she hadn’t had to make it a gift. It had been a long time since anyone had given me a present. Dahlia and I didn’t have that kind of relationship and my other friends—the ones who lived miles away—and I had fallen out of the habit years ago.

The wrapping paper was pink and sparkly and cheerful, just like Nikki, and I opened it slowly, savoring the moment, even though I knew what was inside.

The amulet was made of a chunk of amethyst, secured to a long silver chain, faceted to catch the light.

I immediately put it on, not because I expected it to protect me from anything but because it was so pretty. “Thank you,” I said. “It’s gorgeous.”

She beamed at me. “I’m glad you like it. It looks very pretty on you.” She glanced over my shoulder and her smile transformed into a frown.

I calmly took a sip of tea. “Apparently the grim is back.”

She looked at me. “Mmm.”

I took that to be yes. “That’s annoying. I keep hoping he’ll be hit by a car. You know, the irony.” I smiled.

Her frown lifted into as mile and then the smile fell back into a frown. I guess she wasn’t sure if I was joking and if I was she wasn’t sure how funny I was being.

Then she said tentatively, “I don’t really think that would hurt it.”

“Oh, I know. I mean, omen! Supernatural powers and so on. Listen, speaking of supernatural things, I have a question.”

She’d been using a spoon to stir the contents of her cup and now she set it quietly on the table and gave me her full attention. It was a little disconcerting; it’s not an experience women have as much as men, and it felt good. For a moment I wondered if she had some of Serena’s magic in manipulating emotion.

And I wondered what magic I had, beyond seeing things that might possibly not exist.

“What’s the question?”

“I think I have two, or possibly ten.”

“About being a witch? Growing into your power kind of thing?”

“Exactly,” I said. “That’s part of it, anyway. I mean, I guess you don’t just say ‘abracadabra’ and mint a pile of coins.”

This time her smile was wide and real. “Wouldn’t that be nice? From what I can tell from my own experience, and from what Cyn and Serena and I have discussed, the magic is about making you more you, essentially. Cyn already had an iron-hard will and the discipline to be an excellent actor, and so her magic was just about ….” Her brows drew together and she seemed to grope for the word. “It was about enhancing what was already there.”

I took a final sip of tea. “That’s disappointing.”

“You wanted something more?” She wasn’t smiling now. Her eyes were compassion and her voice gentle.

“Of course,” I said. “Look at fairy godmothers. Who wouldn’t want to be a fairy godmother?”

“But that’s just fantasy,” she said, very seriously. “You can’t create something out of nothing. But ….” Again her eyes drifted off as she seemed to be trying to find the words. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not extraordinarily powerful.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “Crones of the world, unite!”

“You don’t need to be rude,” she said, shaking her head in disapproval. “You’re seeing the world as it is. Don’t you understand how powerful that is?”

“I guess not,” I said. “Possibly I’m just very immature, but there are a few people I’d like to turn into toads.”

That startled a laugh out of her and then she said, “You’re not alone. Usually we can find a way to do what’s truly necessary.”

My ears perked up. “Really? And we get to decide that on our own? There’s not some panel of judges?”

“There’s just us,” Nikki said. She picked up her concoction and sipped. “Though we don’t normally get together to decide these things. Only if it’s something big, something that needs all of us.”

Usually we can find a way. I wondered what that really mean. But I liked the sound of it.

“You’ll work it out,” Nikki said and for a moment I thought she was reading my mind until she added, “Your power. Now that you know it’s there, ready to be wielded, you can call upon it.”

“Okay,” I said, wondering if I would even noticed if I did call upon it. I mean, I was already pretty me, and I couldn’t see how I could be more me, and so who would be able to tell the difference?

“You had another question, or nine,” Nikki prompted.

“I did. Do you have time, though?” I realized we’d been sitting there for nearly an hour.

“I don’t have any other appointments.”

“Don’t want to make you hit the rush-hour traffic.”

“Most of it will be going the other way. I’m all ears.”

I nodded. “I’m doing some investigation for my day job,” I said, and hearing myself I went silent. What was my non-day job? Being a witch? Had I already decided it was my avocation?

“Your day job,” Nikki said encouragingly. “You do background research for political candidates.”

“And certain types of employers,” I said. “Where the regular records search isn’t quite adequate.”

“Aren’t there a lot of big companies that do that?”

“Sure, but I’m very good at it, and people don’t see me coming. Big companies are like elephants; they’ll crush you if they step on you, but you can usually see them coming soon enough to get out of the way. They’ll get the job done, but ….” I shrugged.

“But sometimes finesse works better.”

“Exactly,” I said.

“And what’s the appeal about the work?” she asked.

I thought about it for a moment. “People think it’s just about surfacing unsavory past history, and that’s part of it, but it’s really about consequences. They never faced them before. I find that pretty satisfying. They did the thing and I’m just illuminating it. If they hadn’t done it, or if they had been transparent about it, or paid recompense, they wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“You never invent anything?” She didn’t sound judgmental, just curious.

“No, that’s not part of what I offer,” I said, not offended by the question; it was legit, given the mudslinging associated with politics. “Anyway, I’ve never had to, not with the political candidates. Everyone I’ve investigated has done some really unethical shit. The employees are a different story. Probably all of us have said or done something we wish we hadn’t, but most of us are pretty decent human beings. We don’t assault others or thieve from charities or beat our children. That’s not to say I have a particularly rosy view of humanity.”

“I can imagine,” she said.

“As far as the politicians go, I find the hypocrisy most maddening. They do all of this illegal and unethical crap and then they have the gall to make laws telling me what to do.”

“Fair enough. Sorry to derail you, you said you had a question.”

I got back on track. “The person I’m investigating is cheating on his wife.”

“You know,” she said with a sigh, “I wish people would take that more seriously. If they’ll do that to someone they love and are committed to, what will they do to the rest of us?”

“My thoughts exactly,” I said. “So I had a PI helping me and he uncovered the affair partner. I went to check her out in case I could see a point of leverage—like, would she be willing to spill about the affair, that kind of thing.”

“I see.”

“But when I met her … she’s a mermaid.” I frowned. “Or at least I think so.”

“Shimmering scales, green hair and teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Mermaid,” Nikki said and sighed again. “Oh, dear.”

I stiffened. “Why ‘oh, dear’? Are mermaids particularly dangerous?”

“They lure men to their deaths,” she said. “Of course they’re dangerous.”

~~~

Jennifer Lawler has been a writer-editor for more than twenty-five years and has published more than forty novels and nonfiction books. She is the founder of the online education company Club Ed LLC.