A Witch, a Fairy, and an Esper Read online

  A Witch,

  A Fairy,

  and An Esper

  By

  Ross G. Homer

  Also by Ross G. Homer

  The Witches of Aba Nam series:

  The Orb

  The Lure

  The Tel

  The Rescue

  Avenging Angel series:

  Avenging Angel

  Returning Angel

  Deceiving Angel

  Changing Angel

  Deadly Angel

  Stalking Angel

  The Scepter of the Nile series:

  The Scepter

  The Ankh

  The Flail

  The Tomb

  The Seeker

  The Muman Books series:

  Say Nothing

  The Vault

  Ariel Taylor: Time Bender

  Ariel Taylor: Time Bender Book 2

  The Northwest Fae

  Wither Fairies

  A Witch, A Fairy, and An Esper

  Other Books:

  The Pendant

  The Life Giver

  The Hack

  Lilith’s Daughter

  A Witch, A Fairy, and An Esper

  Published by Ross G. Homer

  Copyright © 2020 by Ross G. Homer

  http://www.theworldsofross.com

  Cover Design by: M. Joseph Murphy

  All Rights Reserved.

  Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with all copyright laws.

  A Witch, A Fairy, and An Esper is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any electronic or printed form without permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by Ross G. Homer

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Part II

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  A Witch, A Fairy,

  and an Esper

  By

  Ross G. Homer

  Chapter 1

  Witchcraft and witches are so overblown. Gaia, it’s disgusting. They’re everywhere you look; books, movies, games, and television series out the wazoo. If only people knew what witches were really all about, a lot of that crap would end.

  We are people just like you and everybody else. The big diff is that we are naturally able to tap into something most humans can’t and that’s the magical force that surrounds all of us. It takes training, of course, to use and control this ability. Casting spells and creating talismans are a different part of witchery. I guess you could say that’s because there’s book learning that goes with those. I have at least two dozen books in my library on that very subject.

  But enough about that. Like gravity, magic is everywhere and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. If you can use it…fine. If not, that’s just fine too.

  The weekend had been okay for us but nothing spectacular. It rained a little on Friday. Saturday, the weather improved so Elsa and I hiked in the mountains to commune with Gaia. That was nice, being naked in the Cascades. We usually have some friendly company, but our usual companions had other things going on and they thought it was too early in the year. Who knew a coven of witches would be full of sissies? Yes, it was still little chilly but on Saturday night Elsa and I cuddled inside our tent and sleeping bag and used our usually delightful way to generate plenty of heat. There was magic; oh yes! And it wasn’t just the hocus-pocus kind.

  Sunday, we returned home to my house in Seattle, and spent the afternoon cleaning it. Yeah, even witches need to dust and do laundry. I could use magic for it but why expend the energy? I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. As usual, Elsa was a big help and a bigger distraction. Could a woman be sexier than Elsa in her cleaning clothes? I don’t think so.

  Then came the start of the week and what a mind-blowing week it was. Amazing? Could be. Maybe mind-blowingly astonishing is better? It’s a crappy choice of words but that about describes it.

  Monday started off somewhat sucky, I guess, for lack of a better word. First off, while Elsa went for a run, I went for a training bicycle ride. I was pissed because the pacing on my thirty-mile ride was slower than usual. The first big race of the season was coming up the following Saturday and it was a forty-kilometer time trial. It’s a tough distance to do first thing in the season but in Seattle you can ride and train almost all year ‘round. As usual, I was nervous and had over-trained during the previous week. I knew that as I rode along and continued to push anyway. I also groused because hiking in the mountains over the weekend, so-called cross-training, didn’t help my legs a bit.

  Everybody who’s the least bit athletic knows about it. Over-training and the usual shitty results. I was tired and sore, and my mind wasn’t in it.

  When I hit turn around, I faced the struggle the last fifteen miles were going to be. More than once along the route I gave serious thought about calling Elsa to come pick me up. Screw this.

  Then, just to make it worse, some dickhead in a big, black, jacked up pickup truck with huge outside mirrors tried to run me off the road. He put that right-side mirror over my left shoulder! Since I was in the bike lane, he had to come over the white line to do it. How did I know it wasn’t an accident and he really was trying to run me off the road? As I fought to regain control of my bike, I saw his left arm come out the driver’s window and flip me the finger. Bastard. I wasn’t quite quick enough with a spell for him but if I saw him again, he’d be in my sights. Maybe blow all four of those expensive tires.

  Thank the Goddess that I am a good bike handler, but it still took everything I had to keep both wheels on the pavement. If I’d have gone off into the dirt, I’d have most likely gotten beat up a little. Crashing is part of being a bicyclist and it’s never fun. Especially since I was going about twenty miles an hour at the time.

  Finally home, I stowed my bike and almost threw my helmet at the garage wall then caught myself. It wasn’t the helmet’s fault I had a shitty ride. I guess if there was a positive, it didn’t rain.

  I could have used Elsa to wash my back, but she had already gone to our office. After my shower, I drove to the office, too. And the shit continued.

  At the office I found that Elsa hadn’t even started the coffee yet and it was already ten. She is my lover, partner, and best friend as well as our secretary. She’s the secretary because she has mad organizational skills. While I can’t do that kind of work for beans, I am a rather good private detective if I do say so myself. Hence the division of labor.

  But as I said, I was in a terrible mood. The sudden tension in all my muscles when dickhead tried to run me off the road caused everything to now ache from my shoulders to my calves. I quickly took a couple of extra-strength aspirin.

  In our six years together, we’d never had much of a disagreement. We never fought, amazingly enough, because I can be the Bitch Queen of Seattle when I want to. Consequently, it startled the hell out of her when I barked, “Goddamnit, Elsa! Where’s the fucking coffee?” I conjured my mug full of the nectar of the gods and to hell with Elsa. She can brew her own damn pot.

  As the saying goes, Elsa ain’t no bigger than a minute but I forgot there was a lot of tough small woman in that
minute. She, too, can be a raging spitfire if she wants to be and just then, she wanted.

  She came right up to me, looked up into my eyes and snapped, “Back off, bitch! You have no need to yell at me. What the fuck makes you think my morning was any better?” Even her hands were clenched into fists.

  Whoa. This bitch backed way the hell off as I reached and pulled her into a tight hug. I kissed her head and whispered, “I’m sorry. Gods, Elsa. It’s been one of those days already. Some asshole deliberately tried to run me off the road and damn near did. On top of that, I’ve over-trained, too. Forgive me?”

  She hugged me back. Looking up at me, she said, “Okay, you big witch. If I didn’t love you so damn much, I’d kick your big, purple haired, punk ass all over this office. Now…want to make me a cup of coffee, too?”

  We had a lengthy make up kiss and then in a blink she had a steaming mug of coffee the way she liked it. It would stay hot to the bottom, too.

  We sat in my office and I told her about the ride. She’d actually had a pretty good morning compared to mine. Elsa didn’t bike more than to occasionally come along with me, but she was a runner and that morning, she had a good one. The bummer was almost getting knocked down by some woman in a Bimmer who drove into the crosswalk as if she owned the place. Elsa had to slide across the hood and the bitch driving the car started to get angry about it. Like I said, Elsa ain’t all that big but she is tough as all get out. The woman got back in her car and left before the cops arrived. Elsa also agreed with me about the asshole and the truck. Both of us knew that one day he’d hit somebody.

  We kissed again and it started to get a little steamy in the office. Although we’d been together six years, the time hadn’t cooled our desire for each other. Hell, our time together may have even fanned it a little. I know people who, at the same amount of time, were barely speaking to each other.

  That’s when we heard the little bell on the outer door ding. I thought, a client so early? Well, I guess in the rest of the world offices open earlier than ours.

  Elsa straightened out her clothes and then went out to see who was there. While I heard quiet conversation, I also rearranged my clothes, too. I glanced at myself in the office mirror and saw that it had gotten a bit more heated in my office than I thought. I quickly ran my fingers through my messy hair and kind of neatened it a little. Since it was the short, ‘hacked at’ look, it didn’t take much. I did notice that the purple needed refreshing. I cast a spell and voila! In an instant it was back to the intense purple that I liked.

  In a moment, Elsa escorted a total caricature of the modern male into my office. Oh lord. She was behind him and smirked at me. It was all I could do not to laugh. He was at least forty, five ten or eleven and slim. He appeared to be fit. It was the hair and clothes that almost did me in. This guy had dark brown hair shaved close on the sides and long on top. He had a man bun, too. There was, of course, the requisite full beard. He wore a blinding white shirt under a dark blue blazer and honest-to-goodness red suspenders under the jacket.

  His brown jeans fit snugly but the brown boots…my father would call them clodhoppers…were a gas! Could he have found a heavier, uglier, pair anywhere? All that was missing was a case of craft beer under his arm and the hipster uniform would have been complete.

  “I am Claude Paulson.” His voice was an instant turn off as if the ‘look’ wasn’t enough. He had this too smooth, smarmy, fake as hell, sound to his voice. I instantly thought cheap used car salesman.

  I slipped back into my heels just to be taller than him and stood to shake his hand. He tried to crush my hand and I jerked it loose. Asshole. Keeping my voice short, I asked, “What can I do for you Mr. Paulson? I’m quite busy just now.”

  He looked around like he owned the place. The sneer in his voice was clear. “So, I see, Ms. Palmer.” Reaching into his man bag, he pulled out an eight-by-eleven-inch envelope and a pair of panties and dropped them on my desk. “My wife has run off with our children. Their photos are in that envelope and I understand that you need an article of clothing?” He nudged the cream-colored panties with a finger as if they were contaminated with some horrible disease. Yeah…him touching them. I kept that to myself.

  He said, “I want you to find them and convince her to return to me so we can avoid a lengthy and expensive court battle over custody. Technically, she’s kidnapped them, and things could get, ahh, messier than they already are. I prefer to keep the police out of this if at all possible. I will pay your rates with a grand for a kicker if you can return her and them by say…Friday? That’s a week. Can you do it?”

  A week? With her panties I’d most likely have her location ten minutes after he leaves my office although I’m not telling this creep that. Let him pay me for the week.

  I nodded and pushed my standard retainer form to him. “I think so. Fill this out and hand it and five hundred dollars to my secretary.”

  He nodded and left my office. Unfortunately, his too heavy aftershave lingered behind. I got up and opened the window.

  A minute later, Elsa came in. “Sweet mother of Pearl what a creep. Did you see the tats on his neck? Red neck right winger hiding out as a hipster all the way.”

  “I couldn’t agree more but if we want to eat for another week, we need the contract.”

  She held up five new hundred-dollar bills. “They’re real,” she said. “I checked. I still feel like I need to wash them.”

  I laughed because I agreed with her. “I’ll find this clown’s wife for him and then decide if I need to convince her to return home. The way he tried to crush my hand makes me wonder if he’s a beater.”

  “Jo,” Elsa stated, “you’re probably right. He was obviously trying to assert his male dominance over you.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “You think?”

  “Yeah. You’re a big woman and that makes some men think they need to prove their manhood or something. I learned that in my psych class.”

  “Makes sense. My hand still hurts, though.” I refilled both our mugs with coffee.

  Just as I figured, I had the location of Paulson’s wife in about ten minutes. She hadn’t tried very hard to hide not that it would have made much difference to me. She and her kids were staying with an old friend of hers down towards Tacoma. I’d either call her later in the day or drive down and see what’s what before I continued. We’d keep the five hundred retainer fee whether she came home or not. The rest would be nice, but this guy rubbed me the wrong way as soon as he came through the door, so I’d make him wait until Friday, just like he said and charge him for each day. So what if it was unethical? Screw him and his attitude.

  Early that afternoon, the day turned stranger. I had no idea at the time that it was an omen for my, our, future. I know it’s going to sound like something from a forty’s noir novel, but this is what happened.

  It was quiet in the office. My cellphone rang. Okay. A cellphone isn’t very noir-ish but still, it rang. I do have the noir phone ring tone for my office calls. After all, I am a private detective.

  Elsa’s ringtone is a pretty little stargaze sound, so it wasn’t her.

  It was that simple, really. But isn’t that always the way it starts? The phone rang. She walked in. It was dark and gloomy… You get the idea.

  There was no caller ID but that didn't bother me. Some of my clients blocked their ID’s. Generally, they were cops calling me for help on a case. They’d rather not have people know they were contacting a psychic. As if I was one of them. Hah! I’m a witch, for crissakes.

  I answered like I normally do, “Hello? Jo Palmer here. How can I help…?”

  A female voice screamed, “Help me! Help me!” And she was gone. The terror in her voice startled me for a moment.

  I stared at the phone then went to Recents. It was blank. Now wait just a damn minute. I just answered my phone. A phone call. Logically, my ‘Recents’ should at least show the call. Nope. Nothing registered. The last call I received was from Elsa, from this morning, when I
went down to the lobby for bagels. She wanted extra cream cheese for hers.

  I went out of my office to Elsa’s desk. “Elsa, call me on my cell. Something strange just happened.”

  She nodded and said, “Sure thing, Jo.”

  I stood there as she tapped in my number and in a second my phone rang. I looked. The caller ID read Elsa St. Jermaine. It was her.

  I said, “Weird, Elsa. Somebody, a woman, just called and yelled ‘help me’ a couple of times and then disappeared. There’s nothing on my caller ID or Recents. Look.”

  She looked at my phone and shrugged. “Electronics and computers. Don’cha just love them? Blame it on sunspots.”

  I shook my head. “Yeah, right. The woman sounded terrified, too. I wonder who she is or was it just a prank call?”

  With no answers either of us could come up with, I went back into my office and did a little filing and then wrote up a report on a skip trace I’d completed the previous Friday. I faxed that over to the courts for payment.

  “Elsa, I’m going down to Auburn and see this woman about why she ran away. I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “Got it.”

  “Umm…want to hang out later? Dewey’s?”

  “I don’t think so tonight. I need to wash some clothes and wait for my lover.” She winked at me.

  “Oh?” I joked, “There’s someone new in your life?”

  Elsa stood and came to me. The kiss ensured that neither she nor I had any reason to wander. With a gentle pat on her firm butt, I went down to my car.

  In the car, I called Paulson’s wife and told her I was coming. Yeah, that was a ball. She told me to tell him to stay the hell away from her and the kids.

  “Mrs. Paulson, I need to physically see you to make sure you’re alright. Okay? I will not tell him where you are without your permission. As far as he’s concerned, I couldn’t find you. I’ll keep his retainer and that will be that. On the other hand, if you want, I can report to the court what I found when I saw you. That’s how I work.”