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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1)

Submitted: December 02, 2011

Reads: 55

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 02, 2011




3 years later


As I drove into the car park of Vanity, the most popular nightclub in London, I could feel the eyes of almost every person within view on me. I loved it. Usually I don’t like to be the centre of attention, far from it actually, but in this case I was relishing in it. It was because I was driving pure and utter perfection, plain and simple.

The Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4 is the Mona Lisa among cars. With its handcrafted V12 engine, crisp contours, leather seats that moulded to my body and achieving the unbelievable feat of reaching 0-100 km in 2.9 seconds it is the closest thing to a god I have ever met, and I worshiped it like no other.

I never had an interest in cars before I got Garry – I named him after the employer who gave me him as payment – but after the first test drive I knew I was in love and I had to find out everything I could about him. His engine was smooth as silk and he rode like a dream. He caught everyone’s attention and screamed “I am powerful, hear me roar”.  But the pièce de résistance was he was bright orange.

And he was all mine.

Normally a car that costs around £202,000 is out my price range but this car was a form of payment for my services, and no it’s not what it sounds like. I’m a witch. Not someone who thinks they’re a witch or someone who studies witchcraft but an honest to god, spell casting, vision seeing, witch. And I use those powers to help people – for a price.

My employers never question how I manage to steal or find the things they ask me to because the first thing I make clear to them is I don’t like questions. All they need to know is I’m the best, nothing else matters. Not one person I’ve met in the past 3 years even knows my real name. That’s the way I like it.

It’s also the reason that I was strolling up to the bouncer at Vanity at 2.30 in the morning. It seems my special skills had attracted the attention of the owner of the club; he lost something of extreme value and now needs the help of the allusive and mesmerising Crimson – aka me.

The club looked like a perfectly uninteresting warehouse from the outside; it was a bland grey and didn’t even have a sign with the name of the club.  But that was why people came from all over the county, because everyone wanted to know what was on the other side of that grey wall and they paid through the nose to find out.

Lucky me, I got to unravel the mystery free of charge.

“Hello there, pretty lady, shouldn’t you be at the end of the line?”

He was tall, thick and intimidating – which are the only three qualities a bouncer needs, really – and he was looking both slightly annoyed and amused. His tone was not a little patronizing and I probably wasn’t the first “pretty lady” to try and cut the line. Unfortunately for him I was not in the mood to be coddled.

“Look, I have an appointment with the owner, an important appointment, and if you don’t get out my way and let me see him then I will not be a happy bunny, Kay?”

He looked sceptical and not the least bit scared of my threat but that was okay, my biggest advantage in life was that people underestimated me. I had just opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind when a smooth English accent interrupted our would-be argument.

“I’m sorry, love, I hope Bruno here hasn’t given you too much grief about getting in, I forgot to mention our little meeting.”

I snorted quietly to myself – it figures the great brute would be called Bruno.

“Bruno, could you please step aside and let the lovely lady in please.”

I gave Bruno – who I had secretly nicknamed Brick face – a smug look and turned to look at the man who I presumed was the owner.

He was gorgeous, inhumanly so. His skin was porcelain, velvet and flawless. His raven locks were messy and unkempt but stylishly so; they weren’t very long but couldn’t be described as short either. He had a classically Roman nose and cheekbones to match and his mouth could captivate the imagination of any girl on the planet with its smooth contours and rosy colour. But it wasn’t those features that caught and held my gaze, it was his eyes. At first glance you would think they were dark blue but if you really looked you could see they were unmistakably violet, and they were captivating. It was like he could see strait into my soul, into my very fabric of being and I couldn’t look away from him if my life depended on it. I wanted to drown in his gaze.

Something’s wrong.

It was nothing but a whisper in the far corner of my conscious but that was all it took. I pried my eyes away from him and gasped as I realised I hadn’t breathed since he snared me with his enthralling stare. I was panicked at first as I didn’t understand what had just happened. Then I looked at him to see his approving and slightly surprised look, and I finally got it.

“You glamoured me, you bastard!”

Glamour is a form of hypnotisation; most witches master it at a young age as it doesn’t take much skill or power. It is a technique that has been used by witches and mages throughout the age because it is the easiest and most efficient way to cover their tracks. Almost all humans are susceptible to it and those who aren’t probably have some witch blood in them, from a not-so-distant relative. Witches can’t glamour someone into doing something totally against their morals and beliefs, like murder or hurting a loved one. But if that person was – to put it nicely- not the nicest and were capable of such things then a glamour could probably nudge them toward wrongdoing.  

What startled and angered me was not only the fact that he tried to glamour me – which is the highest form of insult in its self – or that he almost succeeded, which is next to impossible, it was that he wasn’t a mage. I can spot witches and mages a mile off, it was one of the first things my mother taught me to do. They had a weird glow around them; kind of like a shining aura, whereas humans have no such glow. This man didn’t have a glow therefor he should be human, but humans cant glamour, so what was he? 

He started to smirk at me and I lunged at him. Brick face caught me around the waist before I could get to him but I had other methods to hurt someone. I started to mumble out a quick spell that would put him in his place when I heard people start to whisper and crowd around us, I was causing a scene and I was pretty sure that warts appearing on his obnoxiously defectless face would not help matters. I stopped struggling and Brick face let me go and then I composed myself. I tightened the rubber band around my fiery red hair –hence the alias Crimson – and straitened my wrinkled shirt.

“I’m sorry, I forgot myself for a minute there, I presume you are the owner Mr…?”

I said this in the most polite and well-mannered tone I could muster up and I got a raised eyebrow and a sardonic look in return.

“Blake, Love, I’m Jeremy Blake.”

I took a deep breath and pasted a strained smile across my face. I studied his face for any indication of to what he was but his face was frustratingly blank and serene.

“Hello, Mr Blake, I’m Crimson and I believe you’re in need of my help.”

It was a statement I had said so many times in the two years since my mother’s death and I said it with as much confidence as I always did. I may have been slightly shaken after the whole glamour debacle but I was still the best and he needed me.

“Oh yes, come on in.” Then he turned around and walked into the club.

“Said the spider to the fly.” I mumbled quietly.


The music was loud, abrasive and I could barely hear the lyrics but from what I could make out the song of was about ending suffering by giving the ultimate sacrifice. It wasn’t my type of music to say the least.

Many of the people present wore spiked dog collars, had piercings in peculiar places on their face and I even saw someone with sharpened canines. Even though the music and décor leaned toward the gothic, the strobe lighting was flashing hot colours like, red, purple and orange and the bar was lit up neon pink. Also even though a percentage of the customers were hard core Gothic the rest were just everyday clubbers in tight tops and short skirts. The contrasts between the two were startling.

People were crammed up against each other on the dance floor; complete strangers were partnering up and groping one another to the beat of the song. It was hotter than hell and I immediately regretted wearing my leather jacket and jeans. I could feel the sweat starting to trickle down the back of my neck already.

 As Jeremy and I pushed through the crowd gathered beside the bar, which was lit up like a Christmas tree, I got many appraising leers from the patrons; all of which made me shudder.

The barman also sized me up but in a totally different way, I could tell he was assessing how much of a threat I was to his boss, it was a look I was used to getting from my employer’s bodyguards. What was different this time was that he didn’t immediately dismiss me after seeing my 5.3 height and slender build, he continued to study my demeanour and when his eyes met mine he sent me a silent warning which I acknowledged with a nod.

Then I really looked at him and I saw something I shouldn’t have missed the first time I saw him. The barman had a faint glow around him. He was a mage.

I stumbled but just for a second then I righted myself and followed Jeremy whilst schooling my face to show nothing but slight indifference towards my surroundings.

On the inside I was screaming.

What if he recognises your description? What if he reports you? Oh my god! They’re going to find you!!!

The irrational, scared and paranoid part of my brain was going into a frenzy of panic and alarm bells were ringing in my skull. I was very close to bolting and was in a total frenzy.

Meanwhile the sensible, calm part reasoned that the odds of him even properly seeing my Crimson red hair and emerald eyes in the strobe lighting were slim at best. Plus, if he did I doubted that he would connect them to Scarlet Black – the most wanted witch in Europe.

And if my bad luck decided to kick in and he recognised me for who I really was then I’d just skip town, maybe go back up to Scotland for a while. I could hide out in the highlands again.

 The calm part of my brain won out because now that I had thought things through properly and calmed down I wasn’t too worried about being found, because for the 3 years I had been own my own I had always been 2 steps ahead of them and I had no plans of changing that.

Jeremy led me down into a hallway were the toilets were. People were clustered in pairs or small groups along the length of it and by the way they were pressing each other up against the walls I could guess they weren’t discussing the economic downfall the country is going through.

“Right this way, love.” That whole “love” thing was starting to annoy me.

We stopped in front on the last door on the left and he pulled out a key to unlock it.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”  He opened the door with a dramatic bow and a secretive smile.

I walked in and gave a long whistle. It was… interesting.

There were multiple long purple and orange silk scarves draped artfully along the walls. The desk was a huge mahogany monstrosity that stretched horizontally across the room. There was a red leather couch opposite the desk alongside the back wall nearest to me and the purple swede cushions on it looked like they cost more than every piece of clothing I owned put together. Most of the floor was dominated by a Siberian tiger skin rug, which I could only assume was real.

 All in all it was not what you would expect of a typical office and I was stunned into silence and gaping like a fish.

“Do you like it?” He asked sweetly from behind me.

“Uh…” There was nothing else to say. Literally.

He stepped around me sat on the couch then patted the space beside him.

“Please have a seat, love.” Oh god, that little nickname was getting extremely irritating.

I sat on the couch as far away from him as possible and waited patiently for him to tell me what he wanted to hire me to do, all the while looking everywhere but his eyes. And I waited. And waited.

Eventually I couldn’t take the silence so I looked over to see what was taking so long, and found him staring at me.

“Excuse me, Mr Blake, but it’s really late – or early – and if you could get to the point of why you asked me to meet you…”

He blinked then looked at me ruefully, like he had come out of a daydream that he was enjoying and didn’t want to end.

“I’m sorry, lo-“

“No!” I interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. He didn’t look very happy at my rudeness.

“I’m sorry, dear, is there a problem?” He sounded about as happy as he looked.

“Yes. My name is Crimson, not love and not dear, just Crimson. From now on I’d appreciate you’d use it.”

He looked startled and then amused.  Then he went on to say something that shocked me to my core.

“But that not really true, is it Scarlet?”

I looked at him sharply as the breath left my lungs. 

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