“Hello!” My voice rang out through the space like a gunshot through a quiet wood. “I am here to call upon the witch.”

The spiderwebs were so dense that it felt like moving through a forest of cotton candy. The sticky threads clung to my hands and clothing as I shouldered my way forward. The light of the moon drizzled in through a broken upstairs window and shapes frosted in silver-white threads dotted the room. They appeared like sleeping beasts beneath a sickly snow.

The air was stuffy and stilted with nothing but kicked-up dust and the squeak of my sneakers to fill it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The chant was going off like a box of fireworks in the back of my mind. How could you think this was a good ideal?

Regret was like a toothache lodged in a back molar. I took another stumbling step forward and almost tripped over a discarded chair. “Ugh,” I groaned and felt my way toward the center staircase.

I had never seen a place in such bad shape: overgrown garden outside with twisted vines and dead oaks in the back. Dust layering every surface like a second skin. Things crawling on the broken tiled floors, and none of the lights seeming to work no matter how many times I fiddled with the decorative switches on the wall.

I hadn’t even had to break in. One of the garden windows was smashed in and all I had to do was clear away the clouded glass and crawl through. The foyer had been layered with spider web twisting back and forth across the space. I had thought that would be the worst of it.

However, the mansion had a vast ballroom that seemed to be nothing but cobwebs and broken furniture. “Hello?” My voice trembled and echoed off the walls with a cold indifference. “I am here to call on the Witch of Vancouver!” I yelled louder this time.

I wasn’t entirely sure of her proper title. The news articles called her many different names: The Black Fox of the North. The Great Conjurer Crone. The Fox Witch of Misfortune. The Last Curseworker of North America.

I had settled on her most basic title. “I’m here!” I called a final time. “Show yourself, my lady!” I was tempted to call her other names as well, I had a few choice ones in mind, but my mother had clearly instructed me to try flattery and good manners first.

I finally made it a few paces from the grand stairs in the center of the room. The banisters were broken in parts and there was a smell of mold and decay coming from the wood itself. The room was silent with the moon at my back as something knotted in my guts.

My eyes still ached from the marathon drive here and I was itching to unleash myself. I was itching for a lot of things admittedly.

“I won’t--” My voice came out as a bark, but something hissed behind my ear and I turned.

“So,” An oil-slick voice announced with a croak and a deep burble of laughter. “One of you figured out how to find me.”

I swayed in place. The second story of the room was thick with night, but something darker stood near the hallway opening. She was a crooked, blobby shape with something smudged about her silhouette that gave me a headache to look at.

I twitched as something stepped into the moonlight on the stairs. My eyes went wide at the sight of what I only read about in the papers. A small dainty black fox with a smoky coloring and orange glowing eyes regarded me with an unruffled curious air.

The witch’s familiar.

I tried to find my tongue.

“I see you made it past my traps, dear girl.” The croaking, elderly voice announced. “The bats that should have clawed your eyes out.”

I flinched.

“The acid potion in the grass that should have burned your toes off.”

I bared my teeth. “I have a pr--”

“The shadow dogs that should have taken out your kneecaps. Tsk,” she made a small dismissive noise. “Perhaps I’ll still call them.”

I squared my shoulders and reached for the charm around my neck. The witch of LA, Jace the White Alder, had assured me that for the right price this charm would protect me from all evil eyes and minor curses of any kind.

“Oh well,” the witch croaked another huff of laughter. “The house is new. You can’t expect everything to work as it should yet.”

I drew a deep breath and straightened up. “My lady of foxes and curse-work,” I clumsily curtsied in place as if this was a castle instead of the grossest house in Vancouver. “I have come with an offering.”

“Oh?” She drew out the single word with dry mirth. “And why should i hear out an intruder?” She rasped slowly and I shivered.

“I mean no harm.” I tried again. “I come imploring a parley between us.” I bit my bottom lip and tasted the dust already on my tongue from this place. The fox on the stairs cocked his head to the side. “And a deal.”

The witch sighed mildly. “It’s hard to believe the dogs didn’t get you. Unfortunate.” She took a few creaky steps forward. “State your purpose.”

I fumbled forward and reached for the money clip in my back pocket. “I know my lady is still establishing herself.” I put a bundle of hundred dollar bills near the base of the stairs and bowed. “I wish to--”

“You know I’m Canadian, right?” She said briskly as she peered at the green bills. “I can’t spend those.”

“There’s banks around here.” I snapped before I knew what I was saying. I drew myself back into the bow. “And I can get you proper tender for your great nation if needed!”

She tisked. “I can tell why you’re here.” She trundled closer to her fox. “And I’m not interested in your money, sister of the bride.”

I ground my teeth down. “She loves him. The bride for the groom.” I hurried onward. “It’s true love!”

“Who cares?”

“Uh, witches?” I offered weakly and suddenly felt deeply foolish. Perhaps only in movies did true love have the type of power to undo even the worst spells.

“Oh my God,” the witch gave a breathy sigh. “I’m not interested.”

“Please,” I couldn’t believe I was dissolving into begging already. “She’s my sister. I love her. She’s been looking forward to the day for years now.”

“And she can look forward to her fate as well.” The witch said and her amber eyes almost burned golden in the darkness.

“No!” I shook with the force of the word. “We have an offering. I can get more! My mom runs a very successful business and my dad can--”

“I said I don't care.” The witch turned. “Leave before I get my shadow dogs back into fighting shape.”

The wood groaned as I took a few bold steps up the grand stairs toward the bent old woman. “There must be something.” I spat, “Something I can do so you won’t curse her on her wedding day.”

“Which one was she?” The witch said almost snidely. “The pretty Asian one that did basket weaving or the rugby player?”

“The basket weaver.” I said between clenched teeth. “Leah Choi.” I narrowed my eyes, “You should know her name since you plan to curse her like the other girls.”

The witch made a deeply irksome shrugging motion. She was still nothing but a dark blob ahead that seemed to swallow the light of the moon in her wake. “And you're her sister?” She clicked her tongue, “Shame.”

I took another bold step forward. “Take our money.” I ordered. “And leave us alone.”

“No.” The witch started toward the hallway behind her, “I don’t think so.”

“But,” I struggled and looked around. “But you can’t . . .” I imagined my mom’s pained expression when I returned home. I imagined the way my father’s face would fall. I imagined how my little sister would put her head in her hands and start to quietly sob.

She would never be married. Or else she would be cursed.

“Your house!” I screeched and got down on one knee. “Your house is new. It’s . . . it needs work.”

“Yes.” The witch said blandly. “You wish to insult my fox and my broom next?”

“It needs work.” I swept my arms out as if to present myself. “I could pledge my services to you. I could help-- I used to be part of a cleaning business.” That was a lie as I had only been able to hold that job down for a fortnight.

But something had to work.

The witch took several painfully slow steps to the edge of the stairs. She seemed to regard me coolly. “You wish to pledge your services to a witch?”

“Y-yes.” I wished my voice didn't shake as I said it. It’s for Leah, I reminded myself. It’s for her.

I watched as a gash of white appeared ahead. A nonsensical Cheshire grin in the dark. “Oh, I think that might do.” She stepped into the light and I gasped lowly. “I think that might do very well.”