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  The Witch’s Familiar

  TJ Nichols

  Copyright © 2019 by TJ Nichols

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Afterword

  Other books by TJ Nichols

  About the Author

  Foreword

  Thank you for buying The Witch’s Familiar. Get a free copy of A Wolf’s Resistance when you join my newsletter. http://www.tjnichols-author.com/lp/

  A gay shifter novella

  Prologue

  This time Jude Sullivan had done nothing wrong. He’d know if he’d fried the circuits of a city or taken out a hospital’s electricity by accident. He hadn’t even been near a hospital in years. The worst thing he’d done all year was charge his car for free. Why pay for electricity when he could call it to his fingertips?

  Surely not even the Coven would give him a warning for such a minor misuse of magic?

  They couldn’t know about his trip to Vegas. Even if they did, he’d done nothing wrong. Nothing that would put the paranormal community in danger of exposure and start another round of witch trials—or worse. He understood why the Coven freaked out so easily, but what did they want? Him to stop using magic? As much as he’d feared it when his talents had first surfaced, he’d started to find uses for it. And it was cool being one of the few people who could call down lightning.

  He tapped his booted toes, unable to contain the nervous energy as he waited to be summoned into the Coven boardroom. These days, the Coven had the appearance of a well-run business. Their business being the management of the use of magic and the protection of all paranormals—and punishing those who didn’t conform. He forced out a breath. As much as he hated being summoned to see the board, they had protected him when his power had first manifested and he had shorted out a hospital. They hadn’t done it for him, though. They’d done it to protect every other witch. No one wanted to end up being dissected by overly curious scientists.

  Jude glanced at the other man waiting. What had he done? Or was he here for better reasons than an assumed screwup? Some came to ask for help. Some had debts to pay. He may not even be a witch. Maybe he was a shifter. The man didn’t look at him; he was staring at his phone, so Jude couldn’t get a look at his eyes. It seemed kind of rude to see if he had an animal aura around him when they hadn’t even spoken.

  This was a lot like getting called to the principal’s office, except there would be three witches on the other side of the table demanding an explanation instead of one cranky old principal who was tired of seeing Jude and telling him to keep his mouth closed so he wouldn’t get into trouble.

  This was his fourth visit to the Coven. He shouldn’t want to throw up at the mere idea of stepping through those doors, and yet something about being here always tightened his stomach and prickled his throat with heat. He’d never hurled on their nice carpet, but there was a first time for everything. He didn’t like not knowing why he’d been summoned.

  The secretary glared at him over the rim of her glasses, and he forced his toes to still. It was a pity he couldn’t calm his heart so simply or stop the sweat from forming and rolling slowly down his back.

  It was worse this time because he knew he’d done nothing wrong. Nothing that would put anyone at risk.

  This was far worse than the first time when he hadn’t even known witches existed or that he was one. He’d thought the MRI machine had malfunctioned. But it was he who’d had the malfunction. His magic had burst to the surface and shorted the hospital. He’d been terrified.

  The Coven had brought him in and had given him a tutor so he could get his magic under control. Now he could feel the hum of electrons as they danced through wires and he could taste electrical storms. He liked them, as it meant he could stand on the roof of his apartment block and join in without anyone being suspicious. Most of the time, the only magic he could freely do was charge his phone and his car. He’d destroyed three cell phones learning how to do that. He stared at his hands. Having magic wasn’t as great as he’d thought it would be.

  He could cast basic spells, but he didn’t have useful skills. He couldn’t move objects with his mind, read minds, or control animals. They were the talents of different witches. Where once he’d have been called a storm god, now he was just a troublemaker.

  “Jude Sullivan.” The secretary stood. “They’ll see you now.” She opened the door to the boardroom. No phone had rung to alert her. She’d just known. It was creepy no matter how many times he saw that trick.

  Jude got up and wiped his hands on his suit pants even though he knew no one would shake his hand. He gave her a tight smile that she didn’t return, then he walked through the large double doors.

  Magic swept over his skin like a coarse brush. They were already examining him. He would be found wanting. He always was. Whatever they thought he’d done this time, though, he was innocent. He was almost sure of that.

  If he could walk out of the Coven unscathed, in a few more weeks his passport would be here and he’d be out from under their scrutiny. And somewhere else. Anywhere would be better. The doors shut behind him with a soft click, trapping him in the boardroom.

  The room was well lit, but there were no candles or incense or other witchy paraphernalia. The room could’ve belonged in any successful corporation. Jude sat in the only vacant chair. Across the large wood table sat three witches he was too familiar with.

  The man in the middle was Landstrom. He hadn’t like Jude from the first time they’d met. Jude had no idea what he’d done to offend the witch—probably breathed wrong.

  Holling was the dark-haired woman. She like the rules followed. The other woman was Tomlins. She didn’t ask him much, but then she didn’t need to as she could rummage through his thoughts like it was a discount clothing bin. He hoped he had a large sign that read ‘Innocent’ up today.

  Jude pressed his lips together, not wanting to say anything that might be misconstrued. They could talk first, but he was itching to ask why he was here. Again. His toe almost tapped the floor as the silence stretched a little further. He was about to crack and speak, but Holling got in first.

  “Thank you for coming.” She smiled.

  Attending wasn’t optional; he’d learned that the second time he’d been summoned and a snake shifter had been sent to bring him in. That hadn’t been fun. “I couldn’t turn down the invitation.”

  “Skip the games, Sullivan. You know why you’re here. You can’t stay out of trouble.” Landstrom rested his elbows on the table. There was a smirk on his lips as though he was far too pleased with himself.

  Jude swallowed hard. Seeing Landstrom happy could only be bad. “Actually, I don’t know why I’m here.”

  Tomlins leaned over and whispered something, hopefully that he was telling the truth, but he was starting to doubt that now he was here. He’d clearly screw
ed up, and Landstrom thought he had him.

  “You went to Vegas two months ago?” Holling asked.

  Jude’s stomach twisted, and a rush of warmth spread over his skin. How did they know about that? “Yes. I thought it might be fun.”

  And it had been. It had also been quite profitable. After months of practicing at local casinos to get the slot machines to cough out small wins, he’d gone for a Vegas jackpot. And had gotten it. The memory didn’t make him smile now.

  “You got very lucky,” Landstrom said with glee. Landstrom wasn’t talking about the cocktail waiter who’d visited Jude’s room with a bottle of tequila.

  “Yeah, you know how it is. Put a hundred bucks in and something falls out.” He had played carefully, spent four hours at the machine, putting coins in and getting small bits back. He’d had to learn the machine and the way its circuits flowed. He’d had to make it look real. No miracle win on the first quarter that would draw the wrong attention.

  Tomlins shook her head.

  Damn it. She knew that he’d rigged the machine with magic. He had to stop thinking about it, but it was too late. There was no point in playing innocent. “No one got hurt.”

  “You used magic for self-gain. You risked exposing the paranormal community, again.” Holling sounded disappointed more than anything, as though she couldn’t understand why he kept screwing up. It wasn’t like he did it deliberately…

  Landstrom looked like he wanted to stand on the tallest building in Seattle and crow his delight. “You’re a hazard, Sullivan. From the first time we met you, to now, nothing has changed.”

  “That’s not true. I’m careful. I haven’t had any accidents. I haven’t revealed magic to anyone.” But they had covered up his errors before. It was hard to explain why a whole town, really more of a small city, suddenly lost power. Aside from charging things, he generally avoided using magic unless he had to, so that he didn’t accidentally break something. Playing with slot machines had been a way of letting the need to use magic trickle out, and even then the first time he’d tried it the machine had broken. He’d fried its insides. The casino had given him credit, but it had been two weeks before he’d been brave enough to go back and try again. That time he’d gone home one hundred dollars richer.

  “You’re lucky the casino didn’t investigate why their jackpot suddenly went off,” Landstrom said. “You put us all at risk.”

  “They’re meant to go off.” It was random, wasn’t it?

  From the expression on the witches’ faces, he wasn’t so sure. Were they going to make him hand back the money? He couldn’t. He’d already invested it. If he was careful, he never needed to work again. He could do whatever he wanted. When he left the country, they couldn’t follow him, could they?

  “You don’t seem to understand how precarious our status is. If we are rediscovered, there will be a fresh round of witch hunts. Or worse, the military will seek to exploit not just witches but every other paranormal being.” Holling spoke calmly and carefully. “Taking a jackpot may mean nothing to you, but what if every witch did it? If we all used our magic to get what we wanted, society as we knew it would unravel. We have to live within human confines.”

  Jude frowned, not sure where this was going. He did try to live like a human. He considered himself human, a human with magic. “What do you mean?”

  “What we mean, what the Coven has determined, is that you are to be given a final test that will determine your fate.” Landstrom laced his fingers and grinned

  “What kind of test?” He’d never been good at tests. He’d barely passed the test the Coven gave all new witches to make sure they were safe to go into the world. Maybe he was dangerous.

  “The Coven wants to test your commitment to the paranormal community,” Holling said.

  That didn’t sound too bad. He didn’t want to hurt the paranormal community or humans. “I am committed to the Coven. I don’t want to be exposed.” Or burned at the stake.

  “Good.” Holling nodded. “But this test won’t be easy.”

  “What is it?” Would it be today? Panic squeezed his heart hard. He wasn’t ready.

  “You’re to go to Mercy South in Colorado to find and stop the creature that’s mutilating cattle,” she said.

  “What? How do you know it isn’t a wolf or a bear or something?” This wasn’t the kind of test an electro-mage should be given. He didn’t know anything about animals.

  “It’s not. It’s a paranormal creature of some kind.”

  A paranormal creature. They were making him actually protect the paranormal community by policing it. “How do I stop it?”

  “That depends on what it is.”

  “Don’t you have investigators for this kind of thing?” He didn’t even know where to start looking.

  “Do you want to quit already?” Something about the way Landstrom spoke sent a warning shiver down Jude’s spine.

  Tomlins glared at Landstrom. “We do have investigators. We are giving you this chance. Perhaps you would like to become one and put your magic to use for us.”

  He wanted to laugh. His magic had no use. But they were offering him a place with the Coven as though he could be useful.

  “I’m not quitting.” But he didn’t sound as sure as he wanted to, and he felt even less certain. This was some kind of trap if Landstrom was happy. “But what if I don’t want to be an investigator?”

  Tomlins tilted her head. “Electro-mages are rare. Your skills would be valued.”

  Landstrom looked like he’d swallowed a frog and it was stuck in his throat.

  What could he do that other witches couldn’t? He was rare…how rare? No, he was going to travel, not get into bed with the Coven.

  “We will send an investigator in two weeks. That is all the time we can give you,” Holling said.

  Jude frowned. “If I pass, I get to be an investigator?”

  He wasn’t entirely sure if that was what he wanted. Part of him never wanted to have anything to do with the Coven after this. The rest of him wanted to believe that he was a good witch and did have a place in the paranormal community. He’d never belonged anywhere.

  Holling nodded. Landstrom scowled.

  “And what happens if I fail?” If this was a test, there had to be consequences. What if he wasn’t any good and he couldn’t solve problems?

  Landstrom’s smile returned. “You will be stripped of your magic.”

  Chapter One

  Jude gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He was the wrong witch for this job. He knew it, and the Coven knew it, but he had no other options. No good ones anyway. And while he didn’t want to be an investigator for the Coven, he wanted to fail even less. He could always turn down the job—if he passed.

  No matter what he’d done, he didn’t deserve to have his magic stripped and be turned into a magicless human. He didn’t want to be human, but right now he didn’t want to be a witch either. He probably shouldn’t have gone for the jackpot, but there had to be a use for his magic, and it had seemed like a good idea. It didn’t seem worthy of the punishment.

  The odds of him succeeding were smaller than someone winning big without using magic. The Coven, Landstrom in particular, wanted him to fail. Jude was going to enjoy it if, when, he succeeded. He could do this. How hard could it be to find the creature? It couldn’t be that difficult…stopping it was another problem that he’d cross when he knew what he was dealing with.

  He checked the map on his phone again. He wasn’t that far away from Mercy South, but the ever so helpful voice on his phone had gone silent a few miles ago. He checked the screen. Another fifteen miles to go on this road. Already he’d seen more cows that he’d had steaks. He preferred to see cows on a plate with a nice salad and some fries.

  Maybe that was what he’d have for dinner.

  He pressed the gas pedal on the two-door hatch he’d hired—it wasn’t electric, so he was actually going to have to pay for gas. He’d send the Coven a bill for his expenses
after, if he wasn’t fleeing the country so they couldn’t take his magic—assuming his passport showed up.

  What happened to magic that was stripped from witches? Was it stored in a bottle? Did it evaporate? What happened to the ex-witches? He should probably do a little research into that, too, just in case, so he was prepared. He’d already lost two days traveling down here. Twelve to go.

  He sped past the sign that read ‘Ten Miles to Mercy South’. “Ten miles and a million cows.”

  A crooked sign warned him that the Mercy North turnoff was in a mile. He had no interest in seeing the old mining town, although if anyone asked, that was exactly why he was here. He couldn’t go around talking about magic and monsters to humans, that would just give the Coven another reason to strip his magic.

  The creature killing the cows might move on to people next, or worse, the people might realize that things from their horror movies did exist. Then there’d be panic, and that would be bad for all the paranormals. He understood the danger, but he wasn’t the problem…anymore. His magic was under control and carefully controlled. He barely even used magic.

  If the Coven was really worried about the creature, they should’ve sent a nature witch, someone who could talk to animals not electrons. Maybe the problem wasn’t that bad. However, he was going to have to talk to people and ask questions, or at least listen to the local gossip.

  The sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of pink and red. Any other day and he’d have thought it pretty, but the closer he got to Mercy South, the tighter the knots in his belly drew. He drove over the bridge, the fuel gauge slipping lower.