Claimed by Angels & Demons: Book 1 (2 page)

"Oh but I didn't--," Henrietta sighed, "me and my big mouth. I'm sure Molly wasn't mixed up in anything unsavory. As you said, she's doing well now, so it must have all worked out in the end." Henrietta smiled encouragingly and I gave her my best smile back. Sure yea, it all worked out swimmingly. Mom developed severe anger issues and just up and left her kids with a step-dad that worked seventy hours a week. Everyone's doing just peachy.

"Okay," Henrietta started sorting through her teetering stack of paper again. "Ah here it is. You know back when I was your age I could whip out a locator spell that would knock your socks off, but everything goes with age." Again with the witch stuff. Probably she was just senile. One too many pain killers and she was probably thinking the reruns of Charmed on TV were her old home videos.

She laid a document in front of me, "fill this out if you could please," Henrietta said, handing me a pen too.

I looked it over and started filling in boxes. Mostly it was just a standard employment form. Date of birth, full name, address, the usual. But then I started getting boxes I didn't understand. "Mother's Lineage?" I said, looking up at Henrietta.

"Who you're descended from on your mother's side dear," Henrietta said.

That seemed a little racist. Hadn't these people heard of the civil rights movement? "Oh, uh, I'm not sure. I cant remember. Can I just leave it blank?"

Henrietta frowned, "how can you forget a thing like that? I know, we'll take a look at Molly's application." Then there was a whole bunch more paper sorting as Henrietta looked for the needle in the paper stack, but finally she found it. "Here we are. Oh, it's Azazel, one of the leaders of the Grigori. That's an impressive descendant. You know I myself am descended from Samyaza," and Henrietta paused here, seeming to expect something.

"That's... impressive," I said, hoping that was the right response when someone tells you they're descended from an angel. I guess crazy was better than racist.

"Well," Henrietta smiled and rolled her eyes, evidently very pleased, "I don't like to get in to the politics of it all you understand, it hardly matters now does it, all these centuries later? But I think it's important to hold on to our traditions, to remember where we come from."

"No absolutely," I said, trying to remember how to spell Azazel from bible class as a young girl. I didn't have a clue what was happening here, but if I wanted this job I was going to have to play along, so sure why not, I'm descended from Azazel the fallen angel. And we're witches. And Bigfoot works as the janitor on the weekends. Now tell me what you crazies did with my Mom and give me a paycheck.

"And the 'Other Lineages' box, is that for my father?" I asked, "Because I don't know who my father was, so..."

"Oh isn't that awful," Henrietta said, "but no dear that box is just in case you have a secondary female lineage line. I don't expect that an upstanding woman like your mother would have anything to do with a war mage though." Henrietta made a face like she had just bitten a lemon.

What in the world was a war mage? Just one more thing to add to the long list of random crap I would have to know something about if I was going to pretend to work there. "No as far as I know Mom was the only one riding a broomstick to work," I said, trying to be agreeable.

Henrietta gave me a look like I had just told her I abducted small children in my spare time, "that's very offensive Layla, we don't tolerate that kind of talk here."

How in the world were broomsticks offensive? I almost laughed but caught myself. "Right, sorry, I'm just nervous I guess."

"Well, I'll let it slide this time, but don't let me catch you talking like that again."

I just nodded, feeling like I was back in Sunday school with the nuns.

"So Thomas, he's not a... war mage?" I said 'war mage' like it might be a slightly scandalous thing to call someone.

Henrietta gave me a look like I had just accused Thomas of a war crime, "oh no dear, nothing like that, my Thomas is just a regular old human."

I nodded and looked at the next box on the form, labeled 'Witch Academy,' and I was almost afraid to ask. It must have been getting obvious that I had no idea about any of this stuff and was just making it up as I went. "And witch academy?" I looked inquiringly at Henrietta.

"The witch academy you went to dear."

"Oh right, I just went to another academy when I was younger, so I was confused there for a minute." I really hoped she was still buying this.

"You know I always thought that you can tell a lot about a young witch by the place that they do their academy work. Which academy did you go to dear?"

"It was out of state," I blurted out, "Portland. But it burned down, right to the ground, nothing left."

"Oh my, what happened?"

"Uh a werewolf got loose, knocked over a candle." A werewolf, why in the world did I say that? I was normally so good at making stuff up but the whole supernatural angle was really throwing me. I just really hoped werewolves were a thing. But Henrietta was looking at me again like I had made another broomstick crack.

"Another joke," I said, smiling, "of course there's no such thing as werewolves."

"Was it a minotaur?" Henrietta said.

I just stared at her like a deer in the headlights, without a clue what to say to that. I couldn't even remember what kind of creature a minotaur was supposed to be.

Henrietta started laughing, "oh, werewolves, minotaurs! You have quite the sense of humor young lady. A little edgy perhaps, but I must say I am rather fond of a good joke."

"Right," I said, smiling along, "hilarious, all the make believe creatures. Well I think that's all filled out now." I handed the form back to Henrietta, who just stuck it on top of one of the towering stacks of paper without even looking at it.

"You know I'm surprised that you went to a witch academy, almost none of the young witches I speak with go to them anymore. They really are a dying institution, and it's such a shame too. Some of my fondest memories as a young woman are from my time spent at the Rutherford Young Witch Academy."

Oh perfect, I could have just passed on that one. Figures. "Oh yea, Mom practically insisted that I go. She said our traditions are very important. If we don't have our traditions then who are we, right?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Henrietta smiled. "You know, I have a good feeling about you Layla."

"Thanks," I said. I guess I had passed the interview without giving myself away as a sane person.

"Now then, why don't I tell you a little about the job? The service that we provide to our clients is ghost removal. Sometimes these ghosts, especially the older ones, get a little obsessive about a certain place and can cause problems for the people living or working there. Especially when new people move in, it can be a little much for these older spirits. So when that happens the people call us, and we come in and disperse any ghosts that are making a nuisance of themselves, and are refusing to leave peaceably. And if there aren't any ghosts there then you know, just put on a little show for the client and pretend like you're getting rid of a ghost anyway." Henrietta gives me a conspiratorial smile.

It was so hard to read between the lines with Henrietta. I thought sometimes she really believed all this stuff, and then she went and said something like that, to just fake it. Wasn't I going to be faking it the whole time? I felt like this whole thing was some elaborate joke and I wasn't sure yet which part was the punchline, but if I ended up with a paycheck at the end then I didn't really care.

"It's not the most exciting work for a young witch, I know, but you get to meet some interesting people. And of course you do remember the standard dispersion spell?"

I was caught completely off guard, "right, yea, I think I remember how it goes." I was confident I could make something up. Hocus pocus, begone ghosts, how hard could it be? Maybe burn a few herbs and wave my arms around for the finale.

Henrietta smiled, "I know dear, it's such a basic spell but there's never an occasion to use it is there, so everyone forgets it. Don't be embarrassed, it happens to the best of us. So, repeat after me, hoc loco spiritus."

I tried to repeat it without sounding like I was saying it for the first time.

"Oh my dear, your latin is so rusty! What were they teaching you at that witch academy?"

I blushed, I hadn't even known what language it was. "Well because Mom tries to stay away from the magic now we don't do it in the house." I just prayed that made some sort of sense.

"Oh that makes sense," Henrietta nodded. "Still, never even just a small levitation spell or two when you're by yourself?"

I just smiled and shook my head. I had better things to do in my spare time than chant a bunch of nonsense in my room like a crazy person.

"Oh my," Henrietta laughed, "you have more willpower than me young lady, that's for certain. My, when I was your age I couldn't practice enough magic. We even had a rule in our house, no magic at the dinner table! Oh does that ever take me back. Well," Henrietta snapped back to the current century, "I suppose that about covers it. We should get you your first assignment."

"Actually," I said, "do you think I could look at my Mom's personnel file? I just really want to tell her about all this when I see her tonight." I was like a drug addict, I wanted so badly to leave the memory of Mom behind but I just couldn't help myself.

"Oh well I don't suppose there's any harm in that," Henrietta said, and searched around on her desk until she found the form I had been eying ever since she pulled it loose from the stacks of paper. "Here you are," she handed it across to me and I tried not to snatch it out of her hand too much.

I read what had been written in every box twice, not really sure what I was looking for, but hoping I would know it when I saw it. Same name, same address, same phone number. 'Azazel' in the 'Mother's Lineage' box, and a scrawled 'N/A' under 'Other Lineages' and 'Witch Academy.'

I handed it back and smiled, "thanks, Mom doesn't talk much about her witch stuff, I guess I'm just curious."

Henrietta nodded knowingly, "our heritage is what defines us. Sooner or later we all go looking for the skeletons buried in the family closet. I was the same way at your age. Why, the poor nuns at Sunday school must have wished I would take a vow of silence with all the questions I asked." Henrietta laughed at her own joke.

I just smiled and nodded, not trusting myself to keep talking and not blow my cover. I felt certain that I was going to say something wrong and Henrietta would fire me before I even had the chance to earn a little cash.

"Oh yes, the assignment. Here I am prattling on about ancient history when I'm sure you're eager to get started." Henrietta began sorting through the jumble of paper again and I figured I would be there another ten minutes but she came up with a little note a few seconds later. "Let me see here." She handed it to me, "maybe you can make that out, I've misplaced my glasses again."

"Three-seven-one Pine street," I said, deciphering the terrible writing. I looked up and for the first time noticed the glasses hanging around her neck.

"Oh yes, it's all coming back to me now. It seems the very nice sounding couple that live at this address are having a terrible time with a ghost. Creaking floorboards, slamming doors, odd sounds in the night. You would think these spirits would get bored doing the same old thing and get more creative, but I suppose the old standbys
do
work."

I almost laughed. Something about the thought of a bunch of dull, unimaginative ghosts sitting around, trying and failing to come up with something original to scare people with. It was too much. "Okay," I said, standing up, "I'll have those ghosts dispersed before they know what's hit them."

"Oh my, aren't you a lively one!"

"And I almost forgot to ask," I hadn't, but I didn't want to sound desperate, "how much does this job pay?"

"Oh yes," Henrietta smiled knowingly at me, "the most important detail. You will make twenty-five dollars an hour to start."

"I can work with that," I said. I would pretend to be a witch and descended from angels and whatever else Henrietta wanted all day long for twenty-five dollars an hour.

Chapter Two

I pulled up in front of three-seven-one Pine street and turned the car off. Okay Mom, I thought to myself, let's see what the day of a hard working witch looks like. I wondered what her routine for faking a ghost removal might have been. Maybe burning sage, or some kind of demonic possession to add a little drama to the whole thing. Maybe she tried to up-sell the clients with a little fortune-telling. I would need to work on developing my own shtick if I was going to convince anybody that I was a real witch.

I had expected the client to be some wackos out in the woods, drunk on cheap liquor and only hearing things because they had forgotten to check on their meth lab in the basement. Or maybe some bored college kids looking to have a little fun. Instead I was in the suburbs, on a quiet, tree-lined street where all the bushes were neatly trimmed and the lawns looked more like showpiece art than a place to actually walk or play. There was even a Prius in the driveway. Definitely not what I was expecting.

I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. Soon enough a thin blond woman, complete with sweater vest and heels, opened the door, looked me up and down once and gave me an expression that said I had better have a good reason for knocking on her door, then put on a fake smile and said, "yes?"

Suddenly I felt very out of place in my worn skinny jeans and Tom's Shoes that were more frayed fabric than real shoe. "I'm Layla, I'm from, uh, Spiritual Dispersion Services?" I said. I had no idea why it came out as a question, probably because this woman looked like just about the last person on earth that would call in a professional ghost remover. I couldn't possibly be at the right house. Surely there was another Pine street, or senile Henrietta had taken down the address wrong.

The smile disappeared and the woman glanced past me, "your vehicle doesn't have some sort of garish logo on the side of it advertising who you are does it?" she asked.