Chapter Text
“I forgot Minnesota is cold in the winter.” Melinda muttered to herself, irked, as she stepped through the portal from the Parisian hotel she’d been staying in for the last few weeks. The three cats in the large, unwieldy carrier she was practically hugging made their protests very well known to the woman as she set the carrier down in the dark living room. Moments later, the portal closed behind her.
“Oh hush, you’re all wearing fur, you monsters are fine. Just give me a minute.” She continued talking to the fuzzy little beasts as she cracked her knuckles and spread her hands out in front of her, about two and a half feet apart. “I know it’s January and I forgot to come turn the heat on ahead of us yesterday, but this is an enclosed building. It’s probably only in the sixties, relax. Or chill, as the case may be.”
Deep red, flickering streaks of magic flickered across the silver rings she wore- some plain, some decorated with obsidian or garnets, each with their own specific purpose. She took a breath, focused on the magic and the form she wanted it to take, and moments later the magic coalesced into a massive red sigil that spread first between her hands, then about a foot to either side of them.
Warmth immediately flooded into the room, the temperature difference aided by the magic creating a draft that flapped the edges of the sorcerer’s long, dark grey wool coat and sent her shoulder length black hair flying. The wind circled out from her counterclockwise, collecting what dust and dead insects had made thier way inside the house since she was last there five years prior into a small pile. A moment later the pile disappeared into a shower of red sparks, gone as quickly as it was formed.
When that was done she summoned her familiar, a spectral maine coon named Belinda,then flicked a hand to make the sheets covering all the furniture disappear. She walked over to the light switches conveniently placed between the living room and kitchen, flicking them on so that both rooms were filled with bright fluorescent light. At least the electric company had turned the power back on without issue; someone had to be competent during a move, especially if it wasn’t her.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t moved a time or two… hundred before.
Content the cats- a tuxedo male, ginger male, and calico female that she’d had for seven, four, and two years respectively- wouldn’t be able to get into too much trouble now, Melinda let them out of their carrier. She wouldn’t be gone long, but she didn’t want them to be trapped longer than they had to be either. Plus she was leaving them with two separate babysitters- Belinda and her personal assistant.
“Henry.” She commanded, sending the old, hand-knit scarf that’d been lying docilely (for once) around her shoulders to deal with the carrier and corral the cats for her. She’d knitted the damn thing herself far too long ago, figuring the large, once dark but now faded indigo garment would be as good an inconspicuous helper as any. Now it’d absorbed so much magic it was probably semi-sentient in it’s own right, but at least that meant Melinda didn’t have to pay as much attention to it. It did mean she got mother-henned by yarn, but that was neither here nor there.
Stalker- the one cat who’d been here with Melinda before she temporarily went back to Europe to ‘spend some time with family’- seemed happy enough to be back at least. Or at least happy enough to try to wrestle Henry, much to the scarf’s consternation. That was fine; Henry’s job was to babysit them until she got back. Maybe until after she had a nap too. It was still decently early in the morning as far as Minneapolis was concerned, barely twenty past eight, but it’d been three in the afternoon in Paris and Melinda had already been up for… probably longer than was advisable.
She’d stayed up with purpose though- if she claimed jet lag from travel she had the perfect excuse to cut her ‘reintroduction’ to Clifford short. It wasn’t that Melinda didn’t like the man, Clifford Bridges was a good, solid, dependable person (even if he could be a lot on Melinda’s introverted tendencies sometimes). If he wasn’t, Melinda would’ve never let him take over running the bookstore when Steve, Clifford’s dad, retired almost two decades prior.
The sorcerer made a quick pit stop in the bathroom just to double check that she was presentable. Her hair was a mess now, but it was easy enough to pull part of it into a neat little half-bun. The bags under her eyes were fairly stark against her skin, almost as dark as her eyes, but Melinda was fine with that. The small scar on the side of her nose was still there, just like it had been for over three hundred years, but her ears were right where she’d left them. Most importantly- she wasn’t absolutely covered in cat hair, partly thanks to the spell she’d used to refresh the living room and kitchen.
Secure in the knowledge she wouldn’t make too awful of a ‘first’ impression (and somewhat thankful that she’d glamoured her face enough the last time she was state-side that she could return to her normal face for at least the next few years), Melinda straightened her coat and made her way out of the house, locking the front door behind her before Henry or the cats could escape.
The walk to the bookstore one block over was short, but waiting for the crosswalk gave her time to review her notes (aka the email chain she’d been having with Clifford after ‘inheriting’ the book store). White typeface proudly arced across the glass door of Caster Emporium, Purveyor of Books Common, Rare, and Antique, proudly proclaiming they’d been in business since nineteen twenty-one. One hundred and four years later it was still going strong- Melinda had to wait for a young couple to make their way in, then hold the door for one of the most stereotypical grandmotherly types she’d seen in a good while as she slowly made her way out.
“Well aren’t you sweet.” She toltd Melinda, patting her arm. Melinda just smiled politely and wished her a nice day, glad to finally be able to step into the warmth of the shop.
They’d rearranged in the last few years. The entire space was slightly divided- the front area (that had once been the entire space the store occupied back when it first opened) opened into the larger back space with a set of three wide, short stairs down. They and the appropriately sized wheelchair ramp gave access to the much larger (approximately three times the size of the front ‘room’) main part of the store.
The last time Melinda was there checkout was to the immediate left of the front door, the long counter starting just a few feet in and stretching straight back the entire length of the front room, now it’d been moved to the opposite wall. Where the front ‘room’ used to hold shelves of non-fiction and travel books, if Melinda’s memory could be trusted, it now held tables showcasing local authors, creators, crafters, info on local community groups and clubs, and a corner that had merch (shirts, hoodies, hats, and reusable bags) bearing the store’s logo.
It wasn’t a bad change- it really opened up the space and Melinda appreciated the connection to the community, even if she wasn’t planning on using it herself.
“Good morning!” Clifford, enthusiastic as always, waved from behind the closest cashier station as soon as he saw the newcomer. The man towered over the counter, looking like he barely fit back there. Despite his former-athlete-turned-dad bod build he still looked a little rough around the edges with unkempt strawberry blond beard matching the hair- about twice as long as Melinda’s now- pulled back into a pony tail, and arms covered in scars and tattoos made visible by the store-branded shirt he had pushed up to his elbows.
Some things never changed, aside from the grey creeping into Clifford’s strawberry blonde hair and the glasses he now wore. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to let me know.”
“Good morning.” Melinda carefully only let a little bit of vaguely-posh London accent slip into his voice. In a fit of nostalgia she’d decided to drag out something at least similar to her real name and face again, but other than that she still had a cover to stick to. “My name is Melinda Caster, I have a meeting with Clifford Bridges?”
“Well, you found me!” Clifford’s smile never changed, but the probably college aged young lady manning the computer next to him glanced up anxiously. Melinda had no doubt she was wondering what changes were in store for her job now that the new owner was in town. She didn’t need to worry… that much, at least. “Give me a second to shut this down and I’ll give you the tour before we head to the office.”
“Take your time.” Melinda assured him, stepping over to one of the tables to look at all the local author books until Clifford was ready. She ooh’d and aah’d appropriately over the actual book section of the store, then gave the basement much more attention when they went downstairs. Only select clientele even knew there was a basement level- about a decade ago Clifford, with Melinda’s enthusiastic permission, had taken on a bit of a pet project and expanded the store into more than just books.
There were a couple of metaphysical shops scattered across the cities, but most of them were geared towards witches and modern/new age spirituality. The Venn-diagram between witches and sorcerers was practically a circle so that wasn’t a major deal, but there were a couple things that were of more interest to sorcerers than witches. This part of the shop catered toward sorcerers and anyone who was interested in rare or harder to find ingredients and tools.
“How do you source all of this?” Melinda asked, mostly because she wasn’t supposed to know about the manager’s past. It’d be suspicious if she wasn’t potentially concerned about Clifford using unethical means to find even more unethical items, not that Melinda would rubber stamp any of the sort being attached to his name. She’d had enough experience with dark magic in the past, she didn’t want more.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t always run a bookstore.” Clifford chuckled good naturedly, gesturing to his large physique. “I used to work as a cryptozooligst, a good one too. Made a lot of contacts, kept in touch with most of ‘em. A lot of them keep an eye out for me.”
“I’m sure that must’ve been exciting.” Melinda glanced up from one of the more generic, if large, four quart cast iron cauldrons on one of the displays.
“You’re pretty well-traveled yourself, right?” Clifford asked as he led Melinda back to the office. That room was just as Melinda remembered it, floor to ceiling shelves and the antique wood desk that was almost as old as the store practically drowning under a flood of paper. She still remembered picking it out.
“Mostly only as far as vacations are concerned, unfortunately.” Melinda answered as Clifford tried to clean up some of the desk. “My side of the family moved to New Hampshire when I was young, I only moved back to England to help care for my grandmother a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Clifford immediately stopped what he was doing to tell Melinda, stacks of paper clutched in his fingers. “Tracy was a good friend, I’m sure she was a wonderful aunt.”
“Thank you. She’ll be missed, but she’s in a better place now.” Melinda nodded to show her gratitude for the sentimet. She silently weighed the option of toying with Clifford a bit- it was always good to keep him on his toes- but decided it’d probably be easier to play nice. He was meeting her for the first time, after all. “As for the Emporium, I don’t want you to worry about me swooping in and changing everything. I do want to become better acquainted with the store and your staff, but by all accounts it looks like you’re doing a wonderful job and I have no intention on getting in your, my own, or anyone else’s way. I’m not even sure how long I’ll be staying in the cities.” She did, but that was for her to know and others to find out later.
“I’m sure the staff will be relieved to hear that.” He said, stacking the last bit of papers on top of a stack of books, giving them just enough room to sit on either side of the desk. Melinda insisted firmly on Clifford sitting behind it- it was, functionally, Clifford’s desk. “Not the you leaving the cities part, the first part. Although from what I’m told, your grandmother said the same thing before falling in love with Minnesota. You might need to be careful that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.” Melinda ignored the amused glint in the man’s eyes. “I really only had one change I wanted to run by you- how attached are you to the name? It’s kind of a mouthful; it may be time to shorten it or even re-brand entirely.”
“You think?” Clifford asked noncommittally as he leaned back in his high-backed rolling chair, narrowing his eyes at Melinda and considering the notion. “It’s your store; you can name it whatever you like.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” She countered with an almost impish grin, pausing a beat before letting Clifford relax. “That being said, you’re the one that knows your clientel and how they may react to such a change. Far be it from me to alienate loyal customers.”
That was maybe the only true thing she told Clifford about herself during their re-introduction. Of course Melinda knew him well, she’d watched him grow up, but she hadn’t been involved much outside the store in almost a century. It could be time to shake that up a bit.
She didn’t stay much longer after that, using her jet-lag excuse to make an early escape as planned. She’d gotten her new relationship with Clifford off to a great start though- the manager now knew they were on the same team, more or less, regarding the direction of the bookstore, but Clifford also knew that Melinda could keep him on his toes, if needed. ‘Tracy,’ for all that she made great use of the shop’s ability to source booth antique texts and niche magical items, had been pretty hands off for the last few decades. This was going to be fun.
For now though, it was time to get some sleep. The sorcerer didn’t even bother with the stairs, just dropped hheris six hundred year old bones on the couch after sending a quick, burning red sigil at the windows to dim the sunlight filtering through them. Nap now, deal with getting the house in order later.
ᓚᘏᗢ
Melinda woke up just as the sun touched the horizon again, slowly shifting Minneapolis into Night Mode. The sorcerer was still sleepy, but it was the trying to wake up kind instead of the bone deep tiredness that lingered- her long nap had done her good. It was earlier than she anticipated- the sun set early in January; it couldn’t be later than five. That was nearly perfect actually, she got around seven hours of sleep and had plenty of time to get a grocery run in before stores started shutting down- the second item on her ‘to do’ list.
The first item was checking all the wards and getting the rest of the house back in working order like she had the living room, but first Melinda had to wait for the cats to get off her. Henry had, at some point, made it’s way upstairs to the bedroom, brought down the electric blanket, and turned it on. Of course she woke up with all three cats on him. The little devils were lucky they were cute.
Melinda was lucky they were distract-able with food and water that she manifested in little bowls in the kitchen. She also manifested their litter box (a little late, whoops), set against the wall in the living room for now.
The layout of the building itself was pretty simple- two stories, plenty of room for her workshop and library- and it made a great home base for the sorcerer. It could’ve been too much space for one person, but she liked the solitude and her experiments sometimes required the space.
“I’m gonna need a lot of planters.” Melinda started a list on her phone as she physically checked the house. She’d been thinking about new potential design choices for this version of herself for the past month. The furniture in the living room was fairly sparse because she didn’t need much, and most of it was for the cats. She did have a long couch and armchair, both upholstered in grey velvet (she’d found the cats didn’t scratch it as much as they did other fabrics) and book-ended by pairs of matching, antique end tables stained dark with varnish and the passage of time.
There was plenty of room for her to absolutely fill the space with plants. It’d be simple enough to move the chair back to where the sun hit just right in the afternoon- which would be an amazing place to relax and read inside her own little personal forest, and she was getting the itch to garden again. Between her charms and the more mundane option of grow lights on timers, there were many ways to literally as well as metaphorically brighten the space up. A deep green, potentially emerald paint on the wall would make the largish spaces feel cozier too…
“And move the litter box to the basement.” She continued talking to herself. Said basement was accessible through the open doorway in the back corner of the living room down down one flight of stairs. “Maybe I should get around to actually finishing that this go round…”
The wards were all fine, as Melinda figured they’d be. She popped in once a month to refresh the ‘standby’ ones that kept the house more or less safe while she was gone. Clifford was nice enough to check on the place when there were major weather events, but thankfully he’d never once had to report any issues.
“The sigils over the doors need to be fully redone, and the shoe trays,” for collecting melting snow off of winter boots when she came in from the outside, “are starting to get old.” That was all that was really wrong with the small hallway to the left of the front door. The row of hooks for jackets was fine, as was the long, thin table for anything he was carrying in while she took her shoes off.
“Oh, you already washed the dishes, thanks Henry.” Melinda blinked at the scarf. It almost preened under the praise, brushing at itself with it’s tasseled ends like someone wiping imaginary dust off their shoulders. Water was dripping off the dishes, which would have needed washing- magic or no magic- after five years collecting dust in the cabinets, onto an old purple bath towel that Henry had unearthed from somewhere in the house. Call it a personal quirk, but Melinda hadn’t ever trusted that magic got dishes clean enough and Henry just despised the washing machine. The scarf probably made sure to get to the dishes before the sorcerer could just to avoid it’s use a little bit longer.
The walls in the kitchen- as well as the rest of the house- were painted a soft, soothing dark blue. Both the kitchen and the living room were roughly the same dimensions but staggered due to the front hallway.The counters were made of the nicest black marble (sue her for having a preferred color pallet) she’d been able too find at the time and formed a large L shape along the far and side walls of the kitchen, only broken up by the fridge on the far left by the living room and the oven/gas stove, dishwasher, and sink.
Cabinets lined the walls above the counter, glass doors that showed off their contents (when their contents were actually inside them) set into wood also painted a matching dark blue.
The space immediately behind the kitchen was the first floor bathroom. It was smallish, but it was large enough for a tub/shower combo and counter with a decently sized sink, both of which were made out of the same black marble as the kitchen counters. Maybe it was a bit much, but there was no reason she couldn’t indulge himself here and there.
“Now for the library.” She checked off the next item on her list.
A short hallway extended into the back of the house, turning into the staircase up to the second floor. Bracketing it stood the doors to the last two rooms of the bottom floor. The left currently stood empty- Melinda didn’t have any plans for it other than maybe storage, or maybe he’d just keep the door closed- instead he turned to the right.
The room on the right was her library, her pride and joy. That room she didn’t have to double check, she just wanted to. Her wards and shields kept it clean, dry, and the same temperature year-round to protect the hundreds and hundreds of books carefully placed into floor to ceiling bookshelves.
The shelves to the left of the side window had glass cabinet doors to provide extra security to h8er oldest books, some of which were even older than she was. The room had a few tall floor lamps in the corners and another floor lamp that was hinged so it could be positioned as needed over the incredibly comfortable leather armchair she had set up in front of the long rectangular table in the center of the room. The table had yet more shelves built into the sides of it so it was more of a box than anything, also filled with books.
Melinda was taking a deep breath, enjoying that Old Paper Smell when Henry knocked on the door and pointed up the stairs.
“Upstairs?” The sorcerer asked with a grin, knowing full well she was about to piss the scarf off. “I don’t know, I’ve got a lot of things to do… I might just go to the store first.” Sure enough Henry swirled around in it’s spot midair, somehow managing to give off the same impression as an irate, puffed up cat. Henry loved the upstairs- specifically it loved the workshop. Melinda understood, she loved his workshop too. It was hard not to love a room she’d customized to her exact needs over the course of a century.
She took the stairs two at a time to check the upper floor, repeating the same steps with the sigil from when she first stepped through the portal to get everything up there cleared up. The landing immediately opened up into a long hallway that split the floor in two. It didn’t make any sense if you looked at the house from the outside, but that was one of the many benefits of sorcery.
The first door on the left was another bathroom, the second her bedroom, the second most furnished room in the entire house, and the entire left side of the house was her beloved workshop.
She’d have to go through and check all the tools and instruments in there. They were all nicely stored away inside the counter spanning the longest wall, the glass-doored cabinets above that, or the six massive tables with their own drawers and shelves built into them and they had the benefit of the same protections as the library the floor below, but one could never be too careful.
It was going to take Melinda a while to get the plants she specifically used for her practice going again, but she had plenty of time for that. Right then she needed to get all the wards used when she was in residence- an extensive list, especially the wards she used on the workshop specifically, then she’d have to go grocery shopping so there was actual food in the house for himself and the cats (and coffee- coffee was beloved), go to the nearest home improvement stores for gardening supplies and then the nurseries… the list went on and on. Still, Melinda wasn’t too upset about it.
Chores or not- new alias or not- it was good to be home.