Salem's Witches (Neitherlands Book 1), page 2
Madame Xantiplam wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Her collaborators often slacked on the job, which was why she replaced them near weekly. Desiderio also often one-upped her team, making the efforts of her intelligence group useless. Yet there he was, insisting on not accepting a place working for her. “Then tell me what you know!”
“But wait, my lady!” Desiderio beamed at her then made obeisance. “First I wanted to thank you. I wanted to thank you for always being magnanimous and calling for me to aid you. It is truly an honor for me to repeatedly serve as an adviser and helper to the Dominion.”
Madame Xantiplam blushed. Not that you would have noticed it under her many layers of makeup. “Why, I am glad you feel so, Desiderio. One can only wish all our citizens were as driven toward helping their city as you.”
“And I expect most of them are, your Domination, for I’ve been out there, and this city has nothing but love towards you. It is, then, a shame that your position as our leader means you more often get to meet the unsavory kind of citizen, instead of the fine, upstanding citizens such as myself that—”
“What’s this information you bring?” Desiderio had veered off from praising her to praising himself, and Madame Xantiplam was just not into that.
“You see, my beautiful leader, I have learned that somebody meddled with the scene of the crime.” Desiderio let out a thin smile. It was almost unnoticeable, but nothing escaped her eyes. “The information arrived just as I was getting ready to come over, so I expect you’ll understand my tardiness. It was important that I arrived here knowing everything possible about the case, both to save you time and to offer the best possible solution for your troubles.”
The Dominatrix stirred. She didn’t like recent developments if she wasn’t in on them. They filled her with anticipation, and she wasn’t good at anticipating things. She’d much rather torture information out of whoever was withholding it. “Speak, now. Who was this? I’ll have them in custody within the hour.”
“These three women, your Highness. They fancy themselves investigators, or heroines, or something of the sort. They’ve been making the rounds for a while, investigating mostly small robberies or missing cats or things of the sort—the kind of things bored housewives get into. Sometimes they stick their noses in bigger cases, but mostly they deal with robberies, murders, and other such everyday cases.”
“Not a problem. What danger could three bored housewives be? We’ll just have to silence them, that’s all. Make sure they don’t say a word. I’ll put the guard on it.”
“There’s…something else about their involvement in this, your Highness.”
Madame Xantiplam said nothing. She sat there, expecting Desiderio to finish whatever it was he meant to say or face her wrath.
“You see, something…uncommon happened while they were there. And by that I mean that when they arrived at the square, the statues were there. When they left, they were not, but a bunch of black feathers had taken their place.”
“The thieves! They’re probably hoping to resell them on the black market!” The Dominatrix was not amused, but not all that impressed either. In New Wakilork one could expect everything to eventually make its way to the black market, usually sooner rather than later. At times, you’d find crime memorabilia out there before the crime it related to was even committed. “Tell me who they are, right now! This city will not stand by and have petrified people sold on the streets.”
“Your thoughts about them might be right, although I’d recommend considering they might have darker…purposes when it comes to this. And what I’m trying to say is, these women might be related to the crime itself. After all, it is rather suspicious, don’t you think? These three women show up to investigate and then all evidence disappears…”
“Tell. Me. Who. They. Are.” Madame Xantiplam’s patience was wearing thin. Or thinner. Thinnest, perhaps. One could see straight through her patience and would likely be arrested for indecent exposure were one to dare go out wearing it in lieu of actual clothing.
“They’re called Salem’s Witches, your Domination,” said Desiderio. A grin crossed his face at the same time Madame Xantiplam’s expression turned stern.
“So we have three witches running around the city?” Madame Xantiplam was baffled. How could she not have known that before? Clearly somebody was keeping information from her. “Like, witchy witches? With spells and magic brooms and all that stuff?”
“I know not, your Highness, but I am absolutely sure they go after that name. There’s this fashion designer called Salem, I hear he’s their boss. He’s known for—”
“I know about him,” said the Dominatrix, trying to remember the man. She could, for some reason, only conjure a parrot. “The…funny guy. Yes, I happen to find him most upsetting. I didn’t know he hung around with witches, that only makes him weirder to me.” As she spoke, her team of collaborators and ministers were making their best impressions of bobbleheads. Desiderio, of course, wasn’t. “Either way, it isn’t safe to go around arresting witches. They’re… rowdy. And dangerous. And have a tendency of casting curses when cornered and turning people into frogs and all those things. There was this case a few years back involving a young maid and a spindle; it was… shameful. As it is, I’m going to need to better look into them before I send the guard their way. Standard procedures, you know, after all we have to respect their civil liberties and all that stuff.”
Desiderio assented. “And I expect you’d like me to be in charge of this investigation, yes?”
“We will indeed, after all I’ve been told having the watch start an official investigation could be counterproductive. So you go, learn everything you can about them, and then we figure out how to deal with it. After all, they might have been able to commit an almost perfect crime and be protected by who knows how many spells and curses, but…it isn’t over until the fat lady sings, or is it?”
The witches entered their lavishly decorated, picturesque office that boasted a panoramic window with a view of Dominion Road. Immediately after, the parrot sitting to the right of their desk woke.
“Good morning, witches!” it said in the voice of a human who spoke one or two octaves higher than what would be considered natural.
“Good morning, Salem!” all three witches replied, leaning on the desk together, as they were expected to. They separated after, each of them going for some personal space in other areas of the office.
“How are things going today?”
A moment of silence followed. Sarah stared at her companions, noticing they were as lost for words as she was: Being sent to investigate petrified people and watching all of them disappear was not a common occurrence, even in New Wakilork.
“It was…interesting,” she said. Salem would often get angry if conversations featured prolonged silences he hadn’t caused. “I mean, when we arrived the whole square was full of…statues. Statues that looked like they used to be people and—”
“It was all caused by a warlock,” said Laura.
Sarah gave Laura an annoyed look, then ignored her comment. “So, it seems like somehow all these people got turned to stone—”
“By a warlock.”
Sarah sighed. In moments such as these she felt like slapping Laura.
“That’s interesting indeed,” said Salem. “I thought it was a murder, not this. But this is exciting! Statues! Did you bring any around?”
“Uh…no,” said Veronika. “We did not walk into a crime scene and steal the evidence, Salem.”
“Shame, that would have been good to see. Then what did you do? Did you at least get a drawing of the place?”
“We couldn’t,” said Sarah, “because when we were about to get to it a myst took over the square—”
“Summoned by a warlock.”
“And then the statues disappeared and were replaced with feathers—”
“When the warlock decided to hide all evidence and misdirect us.”
Sarah sighed. It was the least aggressive response she knew.
“Gone without a trace then? Did you hear this warlock chanting the enchantment or something?”
“No, we didn’t,” said Veronika. “Because we don’t even know if there was a warlock pre—”
“There was one.”
Sarah went to Veronika. “Let her have this, she won’t back down,” she whispered.
“Either way,” said Sarah, “we found something else. After the myst went away, there was this sort of amulet on the ground.” She took out the amulet from her purse. “It’s… peculiar.”
“Well what does it look like? Do tell! You know I can’t see anything through this.”
“It’s like…a metal bar,” said Veronika. “A thin, long metal bar.”
“And there’s a Q carved at the bottom of it.”
Salem coughed. It sounded as if he was choking on his breakfast cereal.[7]
“Salem?” said Sarah.
“I’m fine…just fine,” said Salem. “I just… Nothing, I’m fine. What were you saying?”
Sarah repeated the details about the amulet.
“Well, it’s probably from one of the people there. Isn’t that feast supposed to be for the gods? Somebody probably dropped his amulet. It’s hardly a clue, really.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t on the ground before the myst,” said Veronika. “Also, there was that noise…”
“Coincidences. Maybe a statue was holding the amulet, then it disappeared and the amulet fell. Sure the square must be littered with amulets on the ground and you just didn’t see them.”
“I’m sure I didn’t see anything else around,” said Veronika. “And it’s the only clue we have so…”
“You take this as a clue? Oh dear…” said Salem. “This is unexpected. I’d advise against it. I don’t want you lot to waste your time chasing nonexistent clues. It’s better to perhaps move on to another case. A better one. Less dangerous, too.”
“Why would this be dangerous?” said Laura. “We’re just looking into this amulet. Nothing more.”
Salem coughed again. “Sorry. I guess you could say it’s not dangerous, although you know how people are. Maybe somebody learns you’re trying to implicate their religion in such a case and what do you know, five minutes later you have the whole Assassins’ Guild on the lookout for you. It’s quite dangerous, I’d say.”
“I’m going to look into it regardless,” said Laura. “I feel this is important.”
“Whatever,” said Salem. “If you girls want to go for it, go for it. See if I care.”
Salem’s comment was met with silence.
“Fine,” he said, raising his voice after silence threatened with taking over the conversation permanently. “If you wanna waste your time, go ahead. I’ll even tell you where to go, because I’m nice like that.”
“Where?”
The parrot sighed. “There’s this religious item store run by two ladies. They sell things for just about any deity in existence, so they should be able to point you in the right direction, which of course is towards a new case. That way we’ll know if the amulet is a red herring, and has nothing to do with any cults.”
“It didn’t look edible,” said Veronika.
Laura rolled her eyes.
“Then we’ll get going. We should—”
“But you won’t be going there, Laura,” said Salem. “I have a special task for you.”
Laura stared at the house after double-checking the address. She was sure Salem had it wrong, for there was no way his supposed informant lived here. The house was in a well-off part of the city. It wasn’t a rich area, but it looked decent enough you didn’t feel in imminent danger and most buildings were pretty and well kept.
Except for that one house.
One could say the house was in ruins, but that would miss the mark. In truth, it looked like a once-decent house that had collapsed, been rebuilt on top of the ruins, collapsed again, taken for a second rebuilding without clearing any of the debris then left abandoned for a few years.
Laura knocked on the door, fearing it would fall to the ground and bring the whole house down with it. It was sturdier than it seemed, for it didn’t budge.
A few seconds later the door opened, if only barely, and an old man stared through a crack. After studying Laura, he opened the door a bit more, just enough that they could have a conversation without it seeming as if she was talking to a door.
“What do you want?” said the man. At a second glance, he didn’t seem as old as she’d originally assumed. While his hair was white and his face wrinkled, something about him seemed off for an old guy. He looked like a younger man who had aged too much too fast.
“Are…are you Mr. Atoms?” said Laura, hoping the man would deny being the informant so she could leave the area without having to speak with him. “I was told you—”
“You were told lies!” said the man, closing the door on Laura’s face. After a second or two he opened it again. “What is it you were told, by the way? I’m sure it’s all lies, but I’m making this list, you see, just to keep track of what people say about me.”
“I was told you could help with an investigation—”
“Investigation!” said Atoms, closing the door again until it was barely ajar. “What is it you’re investigating? I swear I have not, in any way, done anything to contradict any gods. Go away!”
“I’m not here to talk religion,” said Laura. “And I can’t see any reason why I or anyone should be investigating you. I need help with a criminal investigation about—”
“If you can’t see any reason to investigate me then you know nothing of this city!” Atoms opened the door just a bit further and slid his head through the crack. “There’s a whole conspiracy going on against me and against enlightenment. It’s become impossible for me to do anything these days, what with everyone sabotaging me all the time.”
“Can you help me or can you not?” Laura didn’t enjoy being left outside by some crazy, seemingly paranoid man being as uncooperative as could be. “If you can’t, I’ll just turn around and…”
Atoms opened the door. “Please do come in. And understand I needed to first make sure you’re not one of… them.”
Atoms led Laura into the single most disorderly parlor she had ever seen: While thankfully the two sofas there were clear, the whole place was full of…things. Big things, metallic-looking things, things that seemed to move on their own, and things she wouldn’t want anywhere near her body. Also, she couldn’t identify all of these things, and in some cases confirmed ignorance was bliss.
She took a seat on one of the sofas and Atoms sat on the one in front of her. Between them was a coffee table full of more of those things, a bunch of official-looking papers, and a weird ball with some stuff drawn on top.
“Sorry this place isn’t cleaner,” said Atoms, “but I don’t entertain many people. Barely anyone comes over these days. And women, well, I can’t recall when I last had one of those in here.”
Laura forced a smile. “That’s…fine. Now, what I wanted to ask you about… I’m investigating a certain event, and we aren’t sure if it was caused by anything other than mag—”
“Do not use that word in my presence!” Atoms jumped from his sofa, then landed on it again. “That word is banned in this household, do you understand?”
Laura understood, and looking around to identify possible escape routes wasn’t a bad idea after all. “At least let me tell you about this, can you?” she said. If she was to run away from a madman’s house, she’d rather do it after obtaining the information she needed. That way the ordeal wouldn’t be a total waste. “I promise I won’t use the word.”
Atoms calmed down and sat back on the sofa. Laura then told him about Dominion Square, doing her best to explain the exact chain of events with all possible detail, hoping it would help Atoms determine what had happened.
“Yes, that sound like…the m-thing indeed.”
“And that’s it?” Laura felt scammed. “I tell you this whole story, hoping you’ll help me explain what caused it, and all you say is it was magic?” Atoms shuddered at the mention of the word, but said nothing. “Not that I didn’t know that already. It’s clear a warlock did it, but I hoped you would at the very least help me prove it!”
“And how do you prove m-m-ma-mag-that thing? The M-word. How do you prove it?”
“I would guess it would leave remains or something you could detect, I don’t know. You’re the expert.”
“I’m not an expert on that. I think I made it clear already. The only way I know to prove whether that horrible art was performed somewhere is simple: Is there another explanation? If there is absolutely no explanation that would make sense, then it was probably caused by the m-word. And in this case even I have difficulty coming up with an explanation to all of it.”
“But then what is it you do here? If you don’t study mag—” Atoms jumped on hearing the word. “Sorry, the m-word, then what do you do?”
“Look around.” Atoms pointed at the little and not-so-little things around him that did everything and nothing. “Does this look like that horrible thing that’s banned from this household to you?”
Laura still couldn’t understand the purpose of any of the things. “I guess. I mean, there are many things moving around that shouldn’t be moving around unless there’s mmm involved.”
Atoms grinned. “That’s because,” he said, getting up from the sofa then standing proudly with his arms to his sides and puffing out his chest, “you haven’t heard of science!”
Laura was unimpressed. “What’s science?”
“Science is everything, my dear…and nothing at all.”
Laura changed her opinion of Atoms. Minutes earlier she had thought he was a somewhat insane man who spent his life making crazy, useless inventions nobody wanted and blamed magic for it. Now she thought he was just a crazy little man who spent his life doing nothing at all and calling it a lot. “That explains nothing,” she said. “And I don’t feel all that confident in you when you say your life’s work is nothing at all.”
