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

“I’ll have whatever’s in that satchel of yours, Joseph,” I add with a glimmer of a smile. I don’t like scaring people unnecessarily, particularly vulnerable wizards, but need to make the point that Night Rangers are always present … always tracking those who start acting shiftily, reminding them of the consequences of betrayal.

“Of course, Miss Grayling,” Joseph replies, nervously handing me his satchel. “Just common Society artefacts,” he adds.

I already know this, but also know that some common artefacts have uncommon magical powers like a Zombul, for example -- the first thing I take out of the leather satchel. A Zombul is a small silver artefact with tiny holes puncturing the top: a defensive device allowing the release of any creature under your control.

A quick look inside tells me no real crime has been committed; it’s just a simple trade with a witch skilled in the art of uneasy bargaining: a malev born with bad intentions. Alice Aradel is too weak and slow to overwhelm Conrad and me, which doesn’t stop her trying. Removing her right hand from her pocket, the flash of her penchant stone signals an attack in the form of a blast of colour and light streaking towards Conrad.

Conrad is also marked by war … far more conditioned for fire and fury than our weakened witch, uttering ‘DISIRA’ to extinguish Alice Aradel’s fire before adding ‘Fixilia’ to add a different tone to things … the sight of the evening witch grimacing at every movement causing Joseph to wring his hands in fear.

The eccentric wizard tries to back away from the mild carnage, almost falling off his chair and knocking over the petite woman bringing tea and cake to the table. I utter ‘Magneia’ to stop Joseph’s fall, mildly amused when he pauses mid collapse, his chair hovering on two legs.

“Easy, Joseph,” I say, putting the leather satchel over my shoulder. “We haven’t got to the tea and cake yet.”

With Joseph nodding in compliance, I deactivate the Magneia charm and help him back to the table. The Magneia charm is a simple magnetic force used to establish who’s in control. Jacob knows who’s in charge, and as Alice Aradel’s disfigured face turns a shade of red I think she’s getting the message too.

The petite waitress shuffles between the strange scene, keen to place the tea and cake on the table without getting caught up in our polite battle. As the waitress steps out of harm’s way, returning to the counter, Conrad deactivates the Fixilia charm and reaches for a cake, silver tray — popping it into his mouth in one go.

“You can lose the disguise now,” he says to Alice Aradel who glares in our direction, rubbing the back of her neck strained in a failed attempt to escape capture. When you’ve battled with colossal, fire-breathing beasts, vampiric birds and invisible, mind-bending monsters, an ageing witch is the least of your worries.

The only thing left to do now is join Conrad at the table, piling into the cakes and reaching for the tea. After all, a girl’s got to eat. We sit together like this for a few minutes, taking in the old-fashioned glamour of the tea rooms. The standout feature is the vaulted roof made of stained glass, the S.P.M.A. logo decorating the centre. It’s cool, all right, and with the mild drama of the morning under control, we get to the question of judgement.

Conrad and I sit between Joseph and Alice Aradel, ensuring neither of them attempt any sly moves. We carry our power lightly, I think, squeezing out as much fun as we can as we roam through the streets and skies, checking on shady figures whose movements are tracked on surveillance devices.

There are different types of tracking devices, small and large. The most user-friendly one is a Follygrin: a small, circular, leather-bound notebook you can carry around in your pocket. It’s the thing I used in the barber’s chair, watching Joseph Flint jump through the air on carpets made of white weeds, towards the place we’re sitting in now.

Panorilums are hidden in a normal-sized book, unfolding into a massive piece of parchment, allowing the user to track multiple people at once. The other surveillance device, and also the biggest, is a Tabulal, only found in The Orium where senior Society figures track gathering forces — forces with the potential to form war lines.

The Tabulals have been quiet in recent times, and our job is to keep it that way. With Conrad getting his fill of cake and tea, I turn my attention to Alice Aradel whose disguise is falling away. The purple veins bulging on her face fade, revealing the familiar vision underneath … of a fallen witch without the tribe who once protected her, hoping for mercy from the girl she once tried to kidnap: a girl with a habit of holding a grudge.

“Long time no see, Alice,” I begin, the two swords acting as my weapons resting on my lap. Joseph sits perfectly still alongside me, jolting every time I reach for more cake.

All work and no play isn’t the life of a Night Ranger, so I stuff another cake in my mouth and think of the flight back to The Cendryll. We’ll rise high into the sky once more … Conrad by my side … the boy with piercing green eyes and a taste for battle.

“Save the sarcasm, Grayling,” the evening witch offers in reply — we never were close.

Referring to me as ‘Grayling’ gives her a false sense of superiority, but she lost that edge a long time ago. Even before I fought in war, she wasn’t the sharpest witch or even the fiercest. Like all bullies, she targeted vulnerable wizards like Joseph who asks if it’s okay to have the last cake, making me feel guilty for stretching out this intervention. Joseph is innocent of wrong doing beyond offering a few common artefacts to a bad egg.

Does he know Alice Aradel is still in hiding because of her association