The Spellthief

Part 1 – HR Moore

“I need a potion,” said Arabella, throwing a large, heavy hessian sack down on the desk of Driscoll’s Magical Supplies. “It’s urgent.”

“Nice to see you too,” replied tall, dark-haired Benedict, barely glancing up from his copy of The Magical Times.

“Bene…”

He put down the newspaper and looked her square in the eyes. “You made it quite clear you didn’t want to see me, and now you want my help?”

His eyes were a beautiful shade of green…green like the travesty in the sack…she had to get a grip. “Ah…yes?”

“No.” He picked up the newspaper, sat back, and put his feet on the desk. “If you’re coming to me, it’s something I want no part in.”

“That’s not true…”

“Go to Whistlecracker’s; I’m sure he’d be delighted to help you…”

“He can’t.”

“Whatever…I don’t care.”

“You would care, if you would just listen to me.”

“Nope.”

“It’s about the Alamat Stone.”

He put down his newspaper. Ha!

“Why should I believe a word out of your mouth?” said Benedict, leaning forward.

“Whistlecracker knows where it is.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying! But I had a bit of an accident…questioning Whistlecracker…” She eyed the sack nervously. “It’s…delicate…requires discretion…and a potion.”

Benedict stood and rounded the desk, towering over Arabella. “Open it.”

“Will you help me?”

He leaned into her space. “Open it,” he said slowly.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, but…”

Benedict yanked open the sack, then recoiled. “Bella, what the hell have you done?”

Part 2 – Miranda Honfleur

Within the rough-woven sack, the green stone had the audacity to glow at her. Inside its gleaming facets, a brownie-sized figure flailed his minuscule fists.

Benedict pinned her with a glare, arms crossed. “Explain.”

She leaned against the desk, drumming a nervous beat on its pockmarked surface. Where to even begin? “Well, you see, when I said Whistlecracker knows where the Alamat Stone is…that’s because he’s…in it.”

Benedict’s mouth clamped shut, as if it were holding back a legion of expletives. 

It probably was. She winced.

“You expect a potion to fix this?”

A potion? No. Benedict? Yes. He was nothing if not capable.

Shaking his head, he held up his hands.

No, no! He had to help her.

“Please, you’re the only—” She reached for his arm, but he yanked it away. She stumbled into him.

The sack jerked in her other hand.

Her heart froze. The Alamat Stone tumbled out, its eerie glow pulsing. Whistlecracker’s tiny face rent in a shriek.

Her hand reached out. She caught the stone against Benedict’s arm—

And fell to the ground.

The…ground…?

Beneath her was not the hardwood floor of Driscoll’s but dry, barren red land.

A deep growl rumbled next to her. Wincing, she slowly faced Benedict, scowling beside her. And Whistlecracker—at his full goblin size—scowling beside him.

She gasped. They weren’t inside Driscoll’s anymore. They were inside the Alamat Stone.

“Nice going,” Benedict hissed.

“You are the most incompetent spellthief I’ve ever met, Arabella Earthwitch.” Whistlecracker heaved a sigh and held up a necklace with a shimmering gem pendant. “But if anyone can free the jinn from this necklace and convince him to let us out of the stone, it’s you two.”

Part 3 – Kimberly Lemming

Benedict rubbed at his temples. “Have you tried asking nicely?”

“Really?” Arabella snapped, “Just ask the jinn to let us in for tea? I’m sure that will go over well.”

Benedict’s scowl deepened. “Right, I’m sorry. It’s much better to piss it off so it flings us into a barren wasteland.” 

“Children!” Whistlecracker cut in. “There isn’t enough brandy in the realm to make me put up with your bickering.” 

The three fell into silence. After a pause, Arabella sighed and picked up the necklace. “Um, Mr. Jinn, any chance you’d be willing to part with your spell book?”

Shimmering pink light danced off the gem and a deep voice rolled through the air. “It’s about time you stopped talking about me as if I wasn’t here.” Arabella jumped back, almost dropping the necklace. “To answer your question—yes. For a price.”

They exchanged worried glances. Jinns were notorious tricksters. Making a deal with one could lead to endless riches, or a date with death. But the promise of the jinn’s spell book was beyond tempting. Arabella swallowed and lifted her chin. “What do you want?”

The gem took on a red hue. “Don’t laugh.”

“What?” Benedict asked.

“I…I need you to help me apologize to my wife.”

Whistlecracker blinked. “Come again?”

The jinn growled. “Well I’d do something myself, if the vile woman hadn’t trapped me in this damn amulet!”

“What did you do to piss her off?” Arabella asked.

Benedict chuckled. “Was it because you called her a vile woman?”

No!” the jinn hissed. “I may have burned down the Library of Alexandria.”

Part 4 – Elsie Winters

“Oh, yeah, that’s a doozy,” Arabella said, cringing.

“It’s not my fault!” answered the jinn. “You try maneuvering through a library while being made of flames and see if you don’t set the whole place ablaze.” The red hue of the gemstone deepened. “Unfortunately, the Missus is very fond of books, and she trapped me before I could say a word.”

“This is a lost cause,” Benedict grumbled.

Arabella rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? He’s practically handed us that spell book on a silver platter! All we have to do is take him to his wife and—”

“And what, Arabella?” Benedict said, leaning into her space. He always did this, and it made it impossible to ignore the muscles flexing under his unfairly tight button-up shirt or the way he smelled like honey-soap and woodsmoke. “What would you know about offering an apology?”

“This is how they flirt,” Whistlecracker grumbled to the jinn. “I wish they’d just kiss already.”

“I said I was sorry, Benedict,” Arabella gritted out through her teeth.

“No, I believe you said, ‘I really needed that potion, Benedict. I didn’t know it was yours.’ But the town mayor knew the potion was mine, so when he suddenly sprouted a rabbit tail, he knew exactly who to come looking for.”

“He accused me of stealing beer kegs! When I only took one. Singular. What do you want me to do, offer you a grand…That’s it! His wife needs a grand gesture!”

Part 5 – CN Crawford

“And how do we get to this wife?” asked Benedict. 

Inside the necklace, flames flickered around the jinn. “It’s simple, really. You just need to walk through the Labyrinth of Hellfire, defeat the headless ones, and drown in the Ocean of Misery before being revived again as soulless husks. Then you will find her at Cox and Main street. Circe works at a dive bar there called the Spread Eagle.” 

Arabella’s stomach tightened. “Are you kidding me? We’re going to need a shortcut.” 

“Fine!” the jinn snarled. 

It happened all at once. Arabella felt the hot crackle of magic over her skin, and flames rose around her. As the smoke cleared, Arabella surveyed this new part of the Alamat stone. 

Women in bright silk dresses sat at wooden tables, drinking with men in top hats. And at the bar, a woman with dark hair and bright green eyes was wiping down the counter. It was no wonder the jinn was completely obsessed with her because she looked like a goddess. 

But when she caught sight of the gleaming red necklace, her lip curled. “Get out with that amulet! I will rip out your—” Circe paused, staring at Benedict. “You’re cute.”  

“Thanks. But will you release your husband from this necklace?” Benedict’s deep voice sent a hush through the room.  

“He doesn’t truly love me.” She leaned closer to him, smiling. “And when I think about that, it makes me angry.” Her eyes burned red, and flames exploded from her body. 

Part 6 – Anne Renwick

The unnatural flames singed the hems of silk gowns and the felted fur of top hats, raising an unholy stink that sent the customers running for the door. Right behind Whistlecraker. 

Goblins. Never any help in a crisis.

The red, pulsing gemstone that held the jinn shattered into green shards.

“Circe!” the jinn cried, waving a parchment scroll. “For untold years, I’ve poured all my love, all my regret, into script. Behold, a thousand perfect incantations of love, not one ever before used. I’m so sorry, my love. Please forgive me.”

“Brand new? All for me?” Circe tossed Benedict aside, dancing through the flames to fling herself in her long-estranged husband’s arms. “Written in ancient Greek?”

“But of course!”

As the reunited lovers shared a blazing hot kiss, Arabella groaned. “Love potions? In Greek! That’s the entire contents of your spell book?”  

Benedict’s laugh underscored her predicament. “I do hope the contract with your client didn’t come with a large advance you’ll need to repay, Spellthief.”

Her stomach sank. All that gold. She’d spent it all and had no way to repay the client. “And if it did?”

“Off with you, humans!” Circe waved her hand, hurling them through the aether and dropping them back inside Driscoll’s Magical Supplies.

“Then you’d best start casting a spell to repel brownies. I hear they make awful cell mates.” He crooked his arm in invitation and lifted an eyebrow. “Or you can work for me. I’m a clerk short.”

Part 7 – Olivia Atwater

Arabella stared at Benedict. “No,” she said. “Absolutely not. I’d rather take a long walk through that Labyrinth of Hellfire.”

Benedict smirked and turned for the door. “Suit yourself,” he said.

Two weeks later, Arabella drummed her fingers on the front counter at Driscoll’s Magical Supplies. As the bell over the door jingled, she turned with a heavy sigh. “Welcome to Driscoll’s—” she began.

Whistlecracker paused just inside of the door. He craned his head to look up at her—and burst out laughing. “My how the mighty have fallen, Spellthief,” he said.

Arabella scowled at him. “It’s a temporary arrangement,” she snapped.

Whistlecracker waved a hand. “Either way,” he said, “I believe you owe me an Alamat Stone.”

Arabella narrowed her eyes. Selling the Alamat Stone to Whistlecracker had stung deeply—but then, it had brought them all an awful lot of grief, hadn’t it?

“It’s on the top shelf,” she muttered.

Whistlecracker crossed his arms expectantly.

Arabella sighed and turned for the shelves, climbing atop the wobbly stool in front of them to reach for the top shelf.

“Bella?” Benedict’s voice asked from below. “What are you doing?”

Arabella squeaked in surprise. The stool flew out from beneath her feet. Warm arms caught her as she fell, and she was engulfed once again by the scent of honey-soap and woodsmoke.

Benedict chuckled and leaned down to kiss her.

Arabella sighed in contentment.

“Temporary arrangement,” Whistlecracker snorted.

“Hush, you,” Arabella mumbled against Benedict’s lips.