An Overworked Witch

[Zeist]

Hi there, SV. Zeist here, this time with a new adventure/slice of life series about an overworked witch named Allison Sinclair in a magitek fantasy setting. I decided to just write whatever I felt like with this, and am trying to be under less pressure to create than I was last time. This story will contain a combination of action and slice-of-life plots, and will be cross-posted to AO3 here.

I'm not entirely sure whether I should make an accompanying reference document, but I might. And yeah, this was loosely inspired by the Dresden Files.

 

[Zeist]

Once she stepped into the light of the ornate front door's lanterns, Allison took the knocker and rapped at the door with a pout. It had been a while since she'd been in Vertonbury's suburbs, and the ritzy atmosphere never failed to make her grimace. Of course, that wasn't a good first impression to make on a client, especially so late in the evening – so when the door opened to reveal one Henry Lareau, she greeted him with a smile instead.

"Mr. Lareau," she said, as she looked down at the man and extended a hand. "I'm here to deal with your poltergeist problem. You called in for me, right?"

Mr. Henry Lareau, who looked like a short ball with arms, legs, and a generously mustachioed head, merely stroked his chin while silently appraising her with his bloodshot eyes. "You're the witch?" he said, in a hoarse, grating voice that spoke of a lifetime of smoking. "You don't look like a witch."

Allison took out her license. "I assure you, Mr. Lareau; I'm the real deal. And word to the wise; don't get smart with your hired help," she said, her eyebrow twitching. "Customer reputation travels fast in mage circles."

"Oh, of course, of course." Mr. Lareau waved his hand dismissively, then walked back in, motioning for Allison to join him. "You'll want to go this way, then. The problem is…over here."

Admittedly, Mr. Lareau was right – Allison certainly didn't look the part of a witch. At thirty-eight years of age, she often got mistaken for a rather striking woman of twenty-four; her shoulder-length blonde hair, wide blue eyes, lack of wrinkles, and hourglass figure made said judgment an easy mistake to make.

She stood at two inches shy of six feet, and wore a dark blue duster coat over a low-cut black corset top, tight gray leather pants, and black shoes. A large black purse and a silver, emerald-tipped rod completed the look she tried to embody.

Mr. Lareau led Allison past a living room stocked with bookshelves and into a large kitchen. "It comes around here at exactly half past midnight, by that clock. Bangs on all the pots and pans, and I can't get any damn sleep because of it," he said, as he jabbed a finger towards the grandfather clock.

Allison looked towards said clock. "Well, that gives us about an hour, at least. Open the windows," she said. Then she rifled through her purse, then took out a piece of chalk, and began drawing a ritual circle on the floor. Once she'd finished, she stood up and dusted her hands of chalk dust.

At precisely half past twelve, the rattling of pots and pans began. With a sigh, Allison held her silver rod above the ritual circle and channeled her mana through both, turning the binding spell she'd inscribed within the circle online. Immediately, wind whooshed through the room; Mr. Lareau cursed, but the spell held.

The winds converged into a glowing white vortex, which slowly began to take humanoid shape – Allison shut her eyes and channeled even more power into the circle. An unearthly cry rang through the house, just before the spell concluded. A mere minute after the poltergeist had first appeared, it had been bound in the form of a four-foot-tall, faintly glowing white humanoid.

"That should do it," said Allison, as she raised her rod and began to charge mana through it again. "Now let's finish…"

But before Allison could cast her spell, the poltergeist's featureless white head grew a smiling mouth, then reached out a hand and shattered the sealing spell. Then it leapt onto Allison and grabbed a fistful of her hair.

"What – I – fuck!" she said, as she grabbed the poltergeist off her back and threw it into the living room. It hit one of the bookshelves with a thud, then stood up – letting go of a few strands of Allison's hair, it rushed towards her with its now-corporeal hands balled into fists.

As it jumped up to meet Allison's face, she raised her rod and unleashed a blast of raw kinetic energy at the poltergeist. The blast connected and blew the poltergeist to smithereens. With a wave of her hand, Allison sealed the remaining ectoplasm into the ritual circle, then sent it flying out an open window.

With that in mind, Allison began to shut her eyes…but before she could do so, she heard Mr. Lareau cry out. She turned to see him trembling with rage while crouched under one of the kitchen tables. "My couch! You ruined my couch!" he said, pointing into the living room. Sure enough, she'd turned out to have haphazardly blasted off a chunk of his couch.

"Uh…sorry about that." Allison scratched her head, offering only a sheepish grin. "You can take it out of my paycheck."

Mr. Lareau stood up and glared up at Allison – which, at his height, wasn't very intimidating. "You'd better believe it, you bitch," he said, before storming past her and towards the stairs. Allison sighed. By her estimate, the cost of a new fancy couch would've halved the money she'd receive at least.

So she'd had to deal with a cranky customer and a nasty poltergeist in the dead of night, hm? That settled it – she was taking the day off tomorrow. Between work and caring for Martin, she hadn't had much time for herself, after all.

As she heard Mr. Lareau stomp back downstairs, Allison sighed. Yeah, she was definitely going clubbing tomorrow.

 

[Zeist]

Immediately after Allison had finished changing into her dark blue bathing suit, she walked out of the changing room, waltzed up to the poolside, and began stretching. An invitation to one of Vertonbury's lavish parties had finally given her some time to herself, and she sure as shit wasn't going to squander it getting a cramp. Above, the full moon shone down on the partygoers idling around the Lind estate's sizable backyard pool.

She'd told Martin earlier that afternoon that she'd be home in the late evening, and so had ordered her maid Rosalie to cook him a dinner of roast chicken. He wouldn't exactly miss her, of course; he had access to her almost every other day of the week. Besides, Martin was a smart kid.

Allison finished stretching, then turned to the pool and dove into it with as mighty a leap as she could manage. She might've splashed water everywhere, but as she ruminated on that fact for a few seconds underwater, she realized that she didn't care. After all, that was what the pool was for in the first place, right?

A second later, she burst to the surface with a flip of her hair, her chest out and her face turned to the sky. As she wiped pool water from her eyes, she heard a round of applause from a few people, which gave her a twinge of satisfaction. Not that she was surprised. Even at the age of thirty-seven, she'd kept herself in good shape; a man could still bounce a cent off her stomach.

Yet to her slight surprise, one person didn't stop clapping. "Woo!" came a young man's voice; evidently, she'd drawn at least one longer-term admirer. "A sight for sore eyes, lady!"

Allison shook pool water from her face, then swam in the voice's direction. Once she saw the man, she batted her eyes and rested her arms on the poolside. The young man was tanned and muscular, and had a head of well-kept black hair – his strong jawline was completely clean-shaven, and he couldn't have been over the age of twenty-five. He wore nothing but a set of tight black swimming trunks.

Oh, yeah. Definitely her type of poison.

"You really think so?" she said, before wiping her face of water again and looking around. Sure enough, a few people – mostly other men – were still looking at her. Allison smiled back at them. Looking was free, but it seemed like she'd already pulled someone for the night.

"I take it you're a man who can appreciate when a good thing comes his way," she said in a low, husky voice, as she glanced up to meet the man's gaze – although she couldn't help but spend some time lingering on his toned chest.

"That I can." The man offered a hand, which incidentally gave Allison a good glance at his shoulder tattoo. "The name's Julio."

Allison introduced herself after that, and they proceeded to talk for a good hour or so. At some point, Allison got out of the pool and sat by him to not have to constantly look up. Besides, she could enjoy the view better from sitting next to him.

At the end of their little discussion, Allison noticed that people were beginning to stream out; Julio seemed to have noticed it too, and – somewhat hastily – asked if she was doing anything after the party. When Allison said no, he asked if he could take her home.

"Why not?" said Allison, with a twinkle in her eye. They both knew it wasn't just for safety reasons, of course. "You seem like a decent enough man. Quite the strapping one, too."

Julio chuckled. "Damn. Am I about to be a hot older woman's midnight snack?"

Allison blushed at his boldness, but smiled back. "I feel like worse things have happened to you."

***​

Allison rolled to the other side of the bed, expecting to embrace Julio's naked form – when her arms felt only empty space, she gasped and opened her eyes. Sitting up, she flung her sheets over her shoulder to give her some semblance of modesty; sure enough, Julio had left the bed, leaving only his scent and the shirt he'd tossed aside hastily during their evening escapade.

With a grunt, she looked out the window to see that dawn had only just begun. If she looked out, she half-expected to see the moon still high in the sky. Not that she'd do so in her present state, of course. Speaking of which…

Reaching over to the bedside, she grabbed Julio's shirt and tugged it over her head. A second later, she was out of bed; she'd slid on her discarded panties for good measure. Wiping her face of tiredness, she walked barefoot out of the bedroom and down to her living room.

Everything that had happened last night between them had been purely on a casual basis. As he'd revealed during their conversation, he was a good thirteen years younger than her, and she didn't have the time or the energy to jump back into dating.

And marriage was completely out of the question! They were both too busy for that.

Julio sat on the couch wearing only his trousers. Allison couldn't resist looking over his bare, muscled back one last time – once again, she thanked whatever powers that were that she'd gotten with him. Still, all good things had to come to an end.

Allison walked up to his side, wrapped her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss on his head. "Hey, Julio," she said, in the same husky voice she'd used with him last night. "Do you want to go again? We've still got some time."

"Thank you, but not now." Julio struggled out of Allison's grip, then stood up and circled the couch towards her. "I've got your number, right? We should do this kind of thing again."

With a purr, Allison began to shrug off his shirt. "Of course, honey. Just note my schedule."

But before Allison could say anything else, Julio seized her by the waist and drew her in for a deep kiss. As they kissed, Allison felt his chest softly; then a moment later, Julio broke the kiss. "Now my shirt, please," he said, with the smile of someone who knew what he wanted and knew exactly how to get it.

Once Julio had left, Allison decided to waltz upstairs to change back into her nightgown – but she was still excited from her earlier offer, and so elected not to sleep. Instead, she went back downstairs to enjoy a cup of coffee.

Just as she was musing on the wonderful night she'd just had, Allison heard light footsteps down the staircase. "Oh! Martin, darling!" she said, clapping her hands. "You're certainly up early, aren't you?"

Allison turned her chair around to meet the gaze of a gangly boy with freckles and messy blond hair matching her own. It wasn't like her twelve-year-old son to get up this early, but she had no idea if youngsters developed consistent habits these days.

"I got hungry." Martin trudged towards their refrigerator, then got out a small bottle of milk and began to drink from it. Then, still drinking from the bottle, he motioned towards the pantry and got out a few slices of bread. All the while, Allison watched him carefully; she couldn't help but find his early-morning habits endearing, in a way.

"Say, Mom," said Martin, as he started to nibble on the slice of bread. "Can you do me a favor?"

"What is it, honey?" said Allison, before taking another sip from her cup of coffee.

"Can you please make less noise when you're having sex with someone?"

Allison spat out her coffee. What was it with children these days?

 

[Zeist]

As she held Martin's hand in hers, Allison tapped her foot on the apparel shop's wooden floor. She'd just come to the shop to get Martin fitted for some new clothes, since he'd already grown out of some of his old ones – he was growing faster than she could keep pace with, almost.

The problem was that they'd been waiting in line for ten minutes, and the young girl that had preceded them still hadn't come out. Allison had half a mind to knock on the fitting room's door. But just before Allison could make the attempt, the young girl's raven-haired head poked out of said door.

"Um…" said the young girl, as she looked at the growing line to the fitting room. Then the girl looked straight up at Allison.

Allison's eyebrow twitched. "I'm sure whatever you've been trying out looks fine on you, honey."

The girl stepped out nervously, revealing that she'd changed out of her plain clothes into a bright red dress. Allison pouted – sure enough, it looked fine on the girl. And she told the girl as much.

"I see," said the girl, in a thick accent Allison couldn't place. Then she disappeared back in, presumably to change back and attempt the purchase. Allison sighed. It was about time, too.

Shortly after, the girl had scampered out in a plainer gray dress, and Allison had fitted Martin's new pants for him. Once she'd settled on a few pairs for Martin, Allison lined up at the counter. But before Allison could complete her purchase, she felt someone tug at the hem of her white sundress.

Allison turned to see the short-haired girl from earlier. "Uh…hi, Miss. I'm new in this city – where is the Giacomo Hotel?" said the girl, as she looked around nervously. "I'm not good at directions, but I need to meet my brother there."

"The Giacomo? Oh, yeah, that's not far from here." In fact, it was on the way back to the house – which gave Allison an idea. "Just wait and follow me. I can show you where it is."

"Mom, can we go home now?" said an annoyed-looking Martin, who had been staring off into space. "I still need to do my homework."

Allison resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing full well that Martin hated homework. He'd just said that because he hated clothes shopping more. "Just a minute, Martin. We're going to show our new friend here the way to the hotel." Then she glanced over to the girl. "And your name is?"

"…Irene." The girl blushed, then looked away.

"But Mom, won't that take too long? I have to do my homework!"

Wonderful – he was getting testy. "It's just around the corner, Martin. Besides, we can't just abandon someone in need, right?" said Allison. "Now, come on. Let's show Irene over here where to go."

Martin shot an angry glance at Irene – but upon seeing her, his eyes went wide and his face flushed red. "I – oh," he said, his voice dropping a pitch. "Okay, Mom." Allison shut her eyes. So Martin was a boy, after all.

The trio stepped outside to a sunny day – by Allison's watch, it was early afternoon. They walked in silence, with Martin stealing a few glances at their admittedly pretty new companion. Then, halfway between the store and the hotel, Martin squawked and looked directly at Irene. "I think you're really pretty!" he said, before looking away quickly.

Allison stopped in place and snapped. "Martin!"

"Sorry, Mom!" he said, as he blushed an even deeper shade of red. "I…"

"Martin, there's a nice way to tell a girl that she's pretty, but that isn't it." Allison wagged her finger, then looked at Irene – who had blushed a similar shade, and was trying to look anywhere but directly at Martin. "In fact, some girls get scared when you say it like that!"

"I…uh…" Martin stammered for a few seconds, then looked at Irene. "…I'm sorry, Miss Irene."

Allison sighed. Sometimes, being a parent was hard, wasn't it? Fortunately for her, the rest of the walk wasn't nearly as awkward.

Once the trio arrived at the Giacomo – a humble inn built of red brick half a century ago – Allison stopped, then gestured to Irene. "Here it is," she said. "I hope you've been paying attention, despite the whole…thing earlier."

Martin stammered. "Again, I'm really sorry!"

But before Irene could respond, the doors swung open, and a handsome, broad-shouldered young man with raven hair and features to match Irene's own stepped out and gave Irene a withering glare. He said a few pointed words to Irene in a language that Allison couldn't place, then looked directly at Allison – prompting her to blush.

"Very sorry about this, madam. Thank you for finding my younger sister," he said, in an accent identical to Irene's own. "I am Milo Calligaris."

Martin piped up. "Milo Calligaris the wyvern rider?" he said, his voice full of genuine joy for the first time that day. "The Milo Calligaris? Oh, wow! I never thought I'd meet a real wyvern rider in person!"

Allison stepped back. She'd been helping a wyvern rider's younger sister this entire time? She'd given up on watching the derbies years ago, but Martin had been enamored with them since day one – and once one got him talking about wyverns, one would never hear the end of it.

In a moment, Martin was flooding Milo with countless questions on wyvern care and breeding. Milo just smiled a pained smile, then stopped Martin. "Wait, wait, wait. I'd love to hear your questions, but first I must talk to your mother."

Then he looked straight at Allison, prompting her heart to skip a beat. "Again, thank you for finding my sister," he said, as his expression turned into a burdened smile. "Can I repay you in some way?"

Allison batted her eyes. "The wyvern races are in three days, right?" she said, as she tapped her chin. "If we talked some more over a drink or two before then, that would be reward enough for me."

Milo nodded. "Very well. Just phone my room – hold on, let me write it down for you."

With a knowing smile, Allison clicked her teeth. Whoever said good deeds never went rewarded?