Brothers of Brimstone: Chance

Witches are tasked with maintaining the natural balance. Everything conjured must come from somewhere else, and if what is taken is not replenished, then the balance is upset. Things cannot be conjured out of thin air because the earth's energy is never changing, so if the balance becomes too out of the wake, the earth is in danger of spinning out of orbit. Respecting the law of balance (as above) is the number one law in the magical world.

Of course, there are loopholes to exploit, but these rules are so vague that most witches find themselves in debt. Brimstone, the demon dimension responsible for the opposing balance (so below), dispatches demons each autumn, which has become known in magical circles as debt-collecting season.

Being a witch is tough; not only are we responsible for maintaining the balance, but we are also expected to survive on this earth alone. Each fall a dozen or more debt collectors show up at my house around dusk, though most witches must take precautions (we are notorious for dodging payment) I put in a little extra effort.

Debt collectors are known for their impulsiveness, and most witches dust their window seals and thresholds with mustard seeds. Once the debt collectors notice the seeds, they feel obligated to count each seed, but since demons are such quick counters, extra measures must be taken, such as a witch's broomstick, which deceptively has more bristles than the average broom, and a mirror is placed by the front doors because apparently, these debt collectors are so darn handsome that they can’t resist the admiring their reflections when the opportunity arises.

I have a seed spreader, which not only sprays my entire front stoop, but the grass and sidewalk as well, and I don’t have just one mirror, I have the suckers lining the house. Since mirrors must be turned inward at dawn, I created a contraption that controls all the mirrors, so one cord controls them all.

In my opinion, the universe owes me. This is a lot of work considering that I take only what I need: food, shoes, clothes, and my Chevy Camaro.

I don’t completely rely upon magic to sustain me; I have had a slew of low-wage jobs. I am usually able to score a daytime gig, but my new job at the casino as a card dealer only had a second shift slot open, so I am relying on my neighbor/best friend Cara to pull the cord for me tonight.

“See?” I said, demonstrating how easy it was to use the draw system, “You just pull this little cord, and you’re all set; it works just like your garage door.”

“My garage door is automatic,” Cara grumbled, “What if I don’t make it back to my house by dusk and a debt collector catches me outside?”

“You know the debt collectors don’t show up until well after dusk because they can’t grasp the concept of daylight savings time,” I gently chided her. To be fair, I didn’t understand daylight savings time either. It was a human invention, though annoying, and it often came in handy during debt season.

Cara followed me into the bedroom and watched me change into my uniform, a plain button-down white dress shirt and black slacks. Though the outfit paled compared to the waitress costumes, which were short dresses with sweetheart necklines, I was never short of men willing to tip me.

I was no great beauty, though most would agree that I was cute with my large brown eyes and a button nose that complimented my honey-blond hair. I had a petite, underdeveloped figure, which I used to my advantage. Since my small breasts didn’t require support, I often went braless, so my pert nipples were often prominent.

Unwilling to drop the subject, Cara asked, “Have you ever thought about going on a debt diet?” she asked, “Your entire yard is going to be a mustard seed field like last year.”

I brushed back my hair and began securing it with a claw clip, but as I opened it, a strange sensation suddenly overwhelmed me. It was as if this moment seemed familiar.

“Is your clip broken?” Cara asked, “You’ve had that thing forever; you can borrow one of mine if you need to.”

“I just had a strange feeling, like Deja vu,” I shook my head and resumed clipping my hair, “And you don’t need to worry about the mustard plants. I will simply whisk them away before they have a chance to take root.”

Cara rolled her big blue eyes (unlike me, she was pretty, boarding beautiful, and at the right angle; she reminded me of a gorgeous actress, (Megan Fox). “That doesn’t just go into the ether,” she continued to lecture me, “It must go somewhere, for all you know, you are ruining some poor farmer’s crop. Spells like that have consequences. Just like the food in your fridge, that doesn’t appear out of thin air; it comes from somewhere; for all you know, you may be depriving a needy family.”

“I’m not a monster,” I scolded her, “I mix my spells with an ethical bias. Remember that week when I ate nothing but caviar? People who can afford caviar are not starving.”

Cara rose from her seat on the bed and joined me, where I was admiring my reflection in the mirror. Meeting my gaze through the glass, she said, “I am just worried about you. Your magic use had not gone unnoticed by The Grand Supremes, and there has been talk about evicting you from witches’ row.”

Her words made me halt. The Grand Supremes were the highest coven in Silverdale and the ultimate authority.

“I would have thought that The Grand Supremes would have more pressing matters to attend to,” I said briskly, attempting to appear unconcerned.

“They have been getting complaints. Though you have been able to drown out the sound of the debt collectors admiring themselves in your mirrors, their mutters have caused quite the disturbance; they sound like a bunch of conceded bees buzzing around.”

I giggled as an image of arrogant bees complimenting each other popped into my head, but I stifled my laughter when Cara furrowed her brow disapprovingly. I turned and grasped her by her shoulders, “I will try to curb my magical use,” I promised her.

Of course, I was only saying this to appease her. It must have worked because she relaxed a little, “I will help you with your protections for now, but you need to find a job that offers better hours.” she said.

“I will start hunting for a new job in the morning,” I told her as I reached for my purse and keys. I leaned over and pecked her cheek, “Thank you for being such a good friend,” I told her.

Cara crossed her arms and looked away. “Your charms won’t work on me, Jessie Dufray,” she proclaimed. I arched an eyebrow at her, and she reached out and gave my arm a playful swat, “You need to hustle,” she warned me, “Or you’re going to be late.”