Magical Influence Book One

  Chapter 6

  I was on a park bench, just outside the convenience store, sipping on a particularly unappealing but at least warm cup of tea.

  I was staring out at the police cars and an ambulance.

  I was trying very hard not to listen to the man berating me.

  “You should have stayed behind that shelf, where I told you to,” Fairweather raised his voice again.

  I replied by scratching my nose.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  No, I really wasn't. Or at least I was trying not to. This day was getting out of hand, and if I knew a thing or two about magic, I could understand where it was heading. Unless I ran home, hid under my covers, or did something else to turn my back to this ominous Tuesday, my life was going to explode.

  I just wanted to get out of here already.

  “I'm a Federal Agent, and I knew perfectly well how to handle that situation; it was dangerous and foolish getting involved,” he had his arms crossed, and now he seemed to tighten them, his forearms bulging against his shirt.

  It was a mildly distracting view, but it didn't serve to completely let me forget what was happening here.

  “Are you going to say anything?” he prodded angrily.

  “This tea is terrible,” I managed.

  It was the wrong thing to say. I was coming off as exceedingly churlish. For a woman who had been pulled into his office only the day before because her grandmother had stupidly imported a kilo of narcotics, only for some downright bizarre lawyer to somehow manage to have all charges dropped, I was being very stupid here. I shouldn't even be talking to this man. I should be trying my best to stay out of his way, tell him what he needed to know, and get home as quickly as I could. Instead I was acting like a teenager being told off by a parent.

  Latching a hand on my neck, I finally turned to look up at him.

  “That could have ended differently,” he stared right into my eyes.

  I got the message.

  Just not the message he was trying to convey. It could have ended differently; if I hadn't gotten involved, Fairweather here would be the one in the ambulance, not the gunman.

  That was no guess either; this was witch’s intuition. I knew how to read a context, and that grocery store had been as clear as day.

  I couldn't exactly tell this to Fairweather, and nor could I ever get him to understand even if I could break the sacred rule of magic and let him in on the fact I was a witch.

  “I'm very sorry, officer,” I tried, ensuring there wasn't a trace of petulance left anywhere in my tone.

  “Agent,” he corrected in a snap.

  “It's been a long day, and yesterday, yesterday wasn't any better,” I clutched at my cup harder.

  “How exactly did you get those charges dropped, anyway, who the hell was that lawyer, who are you connected to?” Fairweather jumped in, asking more of the questions he had bombarded with me with last night after Fred had managed to wade in and pluck my Granny out of the Federal Polices’ clutches.

  I stood up. “Is this all? Am I free to go? I've given my statement, and I really, really want to go home now.”

  He pressed his lips together. He could have been handsome, but right now he looked deadly.

  He didn't say anything. I took that to mean it was up to me to try to leave and find out what would happen next.

  Figuring there was no way I was going to finish my tea, I popped my half-full Styrofoam cup on the end of the bench and started to walk away.

  He cleared his throat. God dammit that was a grating, heavy sound. It was like a mountain being dragged across the landscape. “You going to litter in front of a policeman?”

  “I thought you were an agent?” I mistakenly quipped back.

  “Littering is an offence,” he stared at me directly.

  I wanted to pick the cup up and throw it in his face, but I managed a quaint smile instead, grabbed it up, and walked it over to the trashcan closest to me. “I am very sorry officer, I had no intention of littering, I was putting it down just for a moment.”

  “Agent,” he corrected again.

  Pain in the ass, I wanted to add, but I had the presence of mind not to.

  “I'll be keeping my eye on you,” he nodded my way as I turned.

  Dear God, it sounded like a line out of a movie. He would be keeping his eye on me? Where did he get off threatening perfectly upstanding members of the community?

  ... Okay, I wasn't exactly a perfectly upstanding member of the community; I was a witch, and as far as he was concerned, I was complicit in drug imports, and fancied myself a rogue police negotiator.

  Anyhow, I knew what I meant underneath. Agent Fairweather was being a bully.

  Not bothering to say goodbye, I walked away, shrugging into my jacket, and half wanting to bring up my hand and shake my fist at the marching clouds above.

  So what if my grandmother was correct; so what if I had been the one to create this day through months of whingeing and anguish. I knew just how to get away from it. It was time for another bath and another plate of chocolate cake.