Home > The Witch and the Hangman (The Witches Series Book 5)

The Witch and the Hangman (The Witches Series Book 5)
Author: J.R. Rain


Chapter One


It’s Routine Until it Isn’t

 


Weird doesn’t even begin to describe my life.

I talk to ghosts, can see people hundreds of miles away, recently made a deal to stop an enraged Aztec god from destroying the world (or at least the West Coast of the US), my roommate is a ghost, I can cast spells… and I’ve started to like radio commercials. Seriously, like totally inhuman, right?

This old guy named Pavlov did an experiment where every time he fed his dogs, he rang a bell. Eventually, the dogs would get excited for food at the sound of the bell even if they couldn’t smell any food. Think he called it ‘operant conditioning.’ Radio commercials have a similar effect on me, but not only to make me hungry. They’re my opportunity to do everything I can’t do while working as an on-air personality—like go to the bathroom, grab a snack, have a sip of coffee, let out a scream of existential anguish, and so on.

I’ll admit, finance and stock market stuff goes right over my head. So I’m not really sure what happened at the station, but someone, somewhere worked out a little money magic. K-RAP is no longer a little fish about to be devoured by a shark. The shark is letting us swim alongside it. The giant radio conglomerate did absorb us, but they decided for now not to shut us down and reinvent the entire station. Management isn’t exactly jumping for joy these days, but at least everyone’s stopped keeping their desks half packed up ready to go.

So, yeah. Can’t say I listened to radio much before. The few times I tried had been while driving, and invariably, every station happened to be playing commercials whenever I tried to listen. So, I did what most people these days do—got an Mp3 player. Since I’m working in radio now, I understand why they play long blocks of ads… and I don’t mean because the station needs income. My show doesn’t have music. Those DJs can eat/drink/pee while song sets are playing. Shock jocks, talk shows, and radio psychics like me spend every second of our live shows talking. So, whenever I get a six-to-ten-minute commercial break, I’m usually sprinting for the restroom or trying to inhale my dinner before it gets cold.

Know what else is weird? Me thinking commercials are a good thing shocks me more than making a deal with an ancient god who damn near drowned the entire staff of the radio station on a cruise.

Imagine a toddler in a bathtub with a toy boat. Now put little tiny people on the boat while the toddler slaps at the water. That’s about what it felt like for us. It’s too terrifying to think of what almost happened. We probably came within inches of capsizing and going straight to the ocean floor. No one on board would have survived. Wolfman Stan has developed a permanent phobia of boats, but otherwise, he seems to be doing all right these days.

Speaking of terrifying, I’m fairly certain my former witchy sister Ivy Tanner exceeded the recommended lifetime dose of angry demigod. She said something about her guardian angel—a guy I’ve nicknamed Gorgeous George—convincing her to use her free time helping people. If you ask me, she had the crap scared out of her and didn’t want to say it. So, yeah. Our trifecta has become a bifecta—yes, I know it’s not a word.

Now, I’m hoping the metaphysical poop doesn’t hit the fan before we find someone to replace her.

I’ve been working with my friend Samantha Moon in hopes she might be able to reprise her role in the trifecta… but it seems her being an immortal psychic vampire is getting in the way. When we destroyed the old witch hunter and released all the stolen magic back into the world, she got some of her power back… but getting her up to speed is proving difficult. Millicent likened it to trying to add more lemonade to an already-full pitcher.

In other good news, the K-RAP studio is no longer saturated with an overwhelming sense of doom and despair. Turns out, all the haunting type stuff going on around here came from the angry Aztec god, not actual ghosts. See, a former DJ named Stormy brought back this little idol she stole from a sacred site in Mexico. Nothing pisses off ancient gods like stealing from their temples, right? Speaking of Stormy, the station gave me her time slot. Not the grandest reward for saving the world, but hey, it beats night shift. Honestly, I’m just glad we all made it off the ship alive. That’s all the reward I need.

Anyway, the universe has two immutable laws. One: mess with ancient gods, you’ll regret it. Two: on Wednesday, someone’s going to ask if you know what day it is, meaning hump day. And yes, I do throw things at anyone who does the silly camel voice from the Geico commercial. Wait, I forgot a third immutable law of the universe—marketing departments are never going to refuse a cheap gimmick.

‘Hump or Dump,’ unfortunately, has become one of my most popular segments. Naturally, since it involves the word ‘hump,’ the marketing weasels want it on Wednesday for all the ‘hump day’ pun opportunities. What is it? Simple, really… people on the verge of marriage call into my show and ask me to get a psychic read on their prospective spouse. Then, based on what I see and feel, I give a suggestion to either hump (go ahead and marry) or dump.

Legal has a whole bunch of disclaimers they play before the segment and on every commercial break during the segment stating how my show is for entertainment purposes only and K-RAP accepts no liability for any decisions people make as a result of calling in. We had some douche try to sue the station because I warned his girlfriend he was a danger to her, so she called off the wedding. Dude tried to come after us to pay for all the money he lost on reservations, the ring, and so on.

We won, but after the case ended, legal demanded they play the disclaimers on every commercial break, not just at the start. But yeah, the last thing I want to do is ruin people’s lives, so I tend to be a little forgiving unless my read on the soon-to-be spouse is bad. I’ve seen all sorts of weird crap. One guy was in a massage parlor when I had his fiancée on the phone—the kind of massage parlor the cops sometimes raid. He didn’t get a happy ending. Another time, I saw a woman robbing a jewelry store when her fiancée called me.

Thankfully, most of the time I spy on someone’s fiancée, I’d say eighteen times out of twenty, it’s fine. Nothing shocking. ‘Bad’ stuff is usually a feeling the guy or gal the caller wants to marry is going to be lazy, abusive, break up the marriage in less than two years, or the people are just straight up bad for each other. Sometimes, two perfectly normal, great people simply do not mix when combined. They say love is chemistry, and sometimes putting the wrong chemicals together results in a violent reaction.

Aura color helps out a ton there. I can’t always make out someone’s aura when using distance seeing, but most of the time, an aura comes through after a little bit of focus, especially when the person’s energy is potent, or bad. Most everyone has an aura whether they like it or not.

Human auras have two parts, what I call the ‘outer nimbus’ and the ‘inner glow.’ The inner glow is a two-to-three-inch thick layer of light that clings to people’s bodies, entirely surrounding them. Its color gives clues to the true nature of the person. The outer nimbus is—usually—a fairly thin line of color hovering a short distance away from the edge of the inner glow. It’s kind of like a little kid drawing a person then outlining them. This line gives clues to a person’s immediate thoughts or motivations. Obviously, the nimbus changes color frequently since it represents the ‘right now’ mindset of a person, while the inner light is more constant.

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