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The sat nav took me to the center of Eskilstuna, close to the hotel where Winnie and Mary were staying. A bell rang as I pushed the door into the small, dimly lit shop. I was immediately hit with the smell of coffee as I looked around at the bookcase wallpaper and dark, comfy-looking chairs.
At a table in the back of the shop, I saw familiar brown hair worn loose in curls. When I reached her, she jumped up excitedly and pulled me into a hug. “Charlie! It’s so nice to see you. You look great.”
I didn’t look great. My only good sleep was last night’s, and the purple bags under my eyes still told the story of the previous nights. Either she was being polite, or she still liked me. Neither option was appealing since, one, she was about to commit a kind of magical genocide, which included my demon friend.
And two, my attraction to her had definitely died. Her green eyes, which used to look so fresh and clear, now looked like a filthy pond. Her skin wasn’t smooth anymore. Even her teeth looked yellow. I couldn’t tell if she had always looked that way and I had just been blind for months or if our break-up hadn’t been as kind to her as it had to me.
To be polite, because I’m a fucking gent, I said, “Thanks. So do you.”
“Oh, no. I’ve put on a bit of weight.”
“I can’t tell.” I could tell.
She laughed shyly. “Thanks. I ordered you a coffee. You still have it with oat milk?”
“Yes. Thanks, Lyds, that’s great.” There was an awkward pause, which I tried to fill with a slurp of my coffee.
She chewed her lip and said, “Okay, well, I’m sure you’re curious about all of this, Charlie. I promise to explain. Most people are setting up at the site, so now is a good time to chat.”
“Well, as long as I’m not the virgin sacrifice for whatever you guys are up to, I’m good.”
“We both know you aren’t a virgin.” She laughed, and I repressed a shudder at the memory of sleeping with her. I couldn’t figure out why she was so repugnant to me now. “It’s nothing that sinister. Witches are the good guys.”
“Oh, really?” I tried to hide the cynicism in my voice, but it seeped through. Thankfully, she knew I was always a cynical bastard and suspected everything.
“Of course. We are the only ones on the planet with powers beyond the imagination of most people. We can save the world.”
I rolled my eyes. “Save the world from what? There’s a lot that needs saving right now. Global warming, wars, people starving, meat markets. Haven’t heard about witches stepping in there.”
“Those are important issues, but mankind can fix all that. They just need more money motivation. Witches can’t help there. But this, this is something we have been planning for centuries. Something big and important, and if we do it right, then no one will ever know that witches were involved.”
I leaned forward, glad we were finally getting some useful information. “So, what is this thing?”
“Well, it’s hard to explain. We are trying to bring back a defender, something that could win when a magical problem occurs.”
“A defender?”
“Have you heard of the Norse myth of Sigurd?”
I smirked slightly. “I’ve heard about it vaguely. Didn’t he kill a dragon?”
“He did!” She was shocked. “Charlie, I didn’t know you were so cultured.”
I laughed. “Hey, don’t be so surprised. I’m a man of the world.”
“Well, anyway,” Lydia began when she recovered from my wit, “Sigurd was a legendary hero. But there are untold parts to every story, and witches have done their best to hide the truth from the world.”
“I feel a story coming on.”
She smiled and continued, “The dragon, Fafnir, was a greedy, power-hungry monster. He killed his brothers for money and then killed witches for their magic. Consuming magic your body isn’t built for is like eating McDonald’s every day and every meal for the rest of your life.”
“You’d explode?”
“No, you’d get ridiculously fat. You’d have so much fat that your body wouldn’t know what to do with it, where to put it. It’s the same with magic. His body changed into something it wasn’t in order to cope: a dragon.”
“I think he got lucky there. I’d rather eat too much and be a dragon than a fat bastard.”
“Eating too much magic means slaughtering lots of witches,” she said dryly. “I think you have more potential to be a fat bastard.”
