Witching Games: The Fire Witch Chronicles 1, R.A. Lindo [top 100 books of all time checklist .txt] 📗

With our Williynx waiting outside, adapting their forms to perch on street lamps, I take out a vial of purple liquid and gulp it down in one go: Fillywiss for the senses, helping to restore equilibrium. Society crowds fill the snow-covered streets, decorated in a various array of clothing, some more elegant than others. The landscape of this winter wonderland is marked by a shimmering, sinking bridge — one of its unique features — the other being perpetual snow.

The bridge is for magical travel, allowing members swift access to different realms. It’s a different sort of Perium, offering a novel way of moving between various parts of the S.P.M.A.

The pub we’re heading to sits at the foot of the bridge — a raucous place full of lost souls and Society folk with little waiting for them at home. My weapons of choice won’t be needed on this visit which is basically assessing movements and interactions. There’s no threat of danger, and the ramshackle wizard in question is no warrior.

Joseph Flint is a gentle soul obsessed with Society facts. He can be normally found talking to himself inside The Chattering Tap, mumbling obscure magical facts to an invisible companion. Until now, Joseph has been gently mad, but his sudden visits to The Shallows via The Sinking Bridge suggest he’s formed a bond he’d prefer to keep secret.

We enter The Chattering Tap and make our way to an empty table, giving us a good view of Joseph. Familiar faces nod in greeting, forever grateful for all we did to win the war two years ago. It’s amazing what a battle with a bad wizard can do for your status, particularly when the concept of an underage wizard fighting in battle had previously been derided.

With our Williynx in view outside — smaller in stature to put the more nervous witches and wizards at ease — large glasses of multi-coloured liquid are slammed on the tables by the proprietors: a family of seven, including the pretty girl who always eyes Conrad when we’re here.

“Hey, handsome,” Lorina Lellant says in Conrad’s direction, followed by a flirtatious smile.

Conrad offers a forced smile in return, aware of how I feel about Lorina. They don’t call me The Fire Witch for nothing.

“Still popular then,” I tease, accepting the boy blessed with beauty and a warrior spirit is going to get female attention.

I ignore the stare Lorina gives me, glancing over at the group of wizards attempting to demonstrate the combined powers of certain magical powders. As the pink, yellow and red powders are blown from one wizard’s hand, the group stands back to wonder at the fizzing sphere of multi-coloured light forming above them — the beginnings of a new charm it seems.

That’s until it begins to spin out of control, causing the clientele to duck for cover. Conrad’s the first to stand on the table, whipping out the Weveris charm as he sends a web floating towards the erratic sphere of light. I step onto the table alongside him, uttering ‘Disira’ the moment Conrad’s web ensnares the fizzing force rebounding off the walls and windows.

It explodes as my disintegration charm makes contact, causing a shower of sparks to fall over the pub like confetti: our introductory act for the evening. After a light round of applause, we return to our seats only to find Joseph Flint has left his place at the bar.

I study the snow-covered streets outside, spotting his parked car … a battered contraption parked outside on the opposite side of the street. He’s obviously sensed the reason for our presence and made his exit, but not following his recent pattern via The Sinking Bridge.

“He’s gone above ground,” states Conrad, standing and buttoning his grey coat. “We can’t use magic there so will need to use Periums to track his location.”

I adjust the belt on my black leather trousers, having a good idea of the route Joseph is going to take. Any shifty movement is studied closely by wizards and witches on the ground, and a variety of creatures in the sky, including Williynx and sky urchins.

It’s in everyone’s interest to avoid another war: a unified Society more powerful than a fragmented one. Joseph isn’t likely to ignite a war any more than he’s likely to attempt an attack on his fellow wizards and witches. He is up to something, though, and his little escape plan only serves to reinforce this.

“You take the streets; I’ll take the sky,” suggests Conrad as we exit The Chattering Tap.

“Yep,” I agree, gesturing for my Williynx to reduce its form even further, ready to step through a different Society building and into the soft light decorating the above-ground section of The Winter Quarter. “See you in The Shallows,” I offer in a parting gesture to Conrad, along with a quick kiss. He always smells good and I’d like to stay close to his scent, but all good things …

Kneeling to signal his Williynx into action, Conrad adds, “I’ll meet on the other side of The Sinking Bridge, where Joseph will probably appear. Then I get my own revenge in our race back to The Cendryll.”

I step in closer, inhaling his scent for a little longer before reminding myself of the task at hand. “Injured pride?” I tease as he pulls me towards him.

“Something like that,” he offers, those green eyes working their own magic and then he’s off, bursting into the sky astride his turquoise companion — the single feather floating towards me always making me smile.

I spot Joseph Flint from the upper floor of Roeylin’s: a tall, narrow building crammed with toys. Like Wimples sweet shop, it’s a natural attraction for children who are awe struck by the unique toys on offer. Quite how they work doesn’t matter to them — magic, of course — and parents end up paying just to get their kids out of the shop, putting