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“You want my advice?” she asks, not so aggressive all of a sudden. I nod.
“I wouldn’t trust anyone if I were you,” she tells me bluntly. “Not the vamps, not Marcel or Gabriel. Once they’ve discovered what’s different about you, they’ll either use you up ‘til there’s nothing left if it’s anything of worth, or they’ll throw you away and forget about you if it’s something useless. They’re all being nice to you because of the mystery, the possibility that you’re something they’ve never come across before. You saw how Marcel was with me last week?” she continues.
“Yeah, he was kind of rude.” I admit.
“You probably thought that was because I’m some sort of massive bitch, right?” Again, I nod.
“Well,” she smirks. “You’d only be half right there, but that’s what the warlocks and witches are like with anybody not from one of their families. Kind of incestuous if you ask me. They hate me because they think I’m a pretender, trying my hardest to be one of them. I’m not though, I do my own thing. My mum taught me everything I know about magic, and I practice it with more integrity than Marcel’s got in his baby finger. Yeah, I kiss his ass, but that’s only because he’s got the supplies,” she pats her bag, now full of stolen herbs.
“What about the vampires?” I ask. “Do you think I can trust them?”
“I don’t deal with the vamps, so I can’t really advise you on that. But I’d say they only want you for the very same reason Marcel does, and it ain’t your pretty face, hun. They’re all after power, and if you can give it to them then they’ll treat you like the Queen of Sheba.”
I rest my chin in the palms of my hands. My forehead crinkles with worry. Well, hasn’t Rita just gone and thrown one giant sized spanner in the works. I suppose it’s a good thing, because I need to know if I’m being conned. We’re both silent for a few moments, and my brain buzzes with questions and ideas. Rita’s mention of there being others like her piques my interest. Subconsciously, I wonder if there are enough amateur magic users out there to overthrow the hierarchy of these twelve families I keep hearing about.
Tentatively, I ask, “So…exactly how many of you are there, unofficial magic users that is?”
Rita looks at me a moment, as though considering whether or not to answer. Then she looks down and coughs. “Three,” she says finally.
“Only three?” I ask in surprise. By the way she’d been talking I was expecting a much larger number. Then I consider how rude I must sound, so I adjust my tone. “Is that including you and your mum, or after?” I say.
“Including,” says Rita, with something like embarrassment on her face.
“Oh.”
Suddenly she gets defensive. “Look, it’s not all about numbers you know. We aren’t trying to build an army. We practice magic to better ourselves and our quality of life, to further our understanding of the universe. Not for power or accolades. Or status,” she snorts, and I can tell she’s referring to the twelve families when she tells me this.
After a moment, I smile. “You surprise me Rita.”
“I do?” she questions. “How?” and then she sits down opposite me, seemingly finished stealing supplies.
I breathe deeply. “I don’t know exactly. Your reasons for practising magic just sound so noble, it’s last thing I expected from you to be honest.”
“Yeah well, maybe you should learn not to judge by appearances,” she pauses. “Or by however loud and aggressive a person might be. Sometimes they can’t help it,” she winks.
“I suppose so,” I tell her smiling, and then we both fall silent for a minute.
“You’ve sort of fucked up an already dire situation for me,” I say, interrupting the quiet.
“Sorry about that,” Rita sighs, then looks contemplative. “What d’you think you’re gonna do now?”
“Not a clue.” I answer truthfully.
“Well I’ll tell you one thing not to do, no matter what, don’t allow Marcel and Gabriel to study you. You’re new to all this, and it probably seems like fun and games. But believe me there are sinister undertones to this business, and you don’t want anyone connected to the politics like Marcel and Gabriel knowing personal things about you.”
“Yeah, but – I’ve sort of already agreed to let them do this.”
“Then you’d better figure out a way to get out of the agreement if you know what’s good for you,” says Rita, rising from her seat and turning to leave.
I sit there, dejected, and scramble through my thoughts, fumbling to figure out a way to settle this predicament.
“Hey wait,” I call to Rita and she stops in the doorway, turning back to me. “How am I going to explain all those missing items?” I ask, eyeing her bulging handbag.
She laughs, scratches her head. “Oh…um, just tell them I bulldozed in, took all the stuff and did a runner. Don’t worry, they won’t blame you for not stopping me. Besides, Marcel will find a way for me to pay him back, he always does,” she sighs.
“Oh, all right then.” I pause a moment to think. “Um, Rita, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” she nods, while also glancing at the exit, perhaps she’s worried about Marcel returning and catching her in the act.
