Sharon Karaa - A Familiar Problem (Northern Witches #2) Read online

  A Familiar Problem

  Sharon Karaa

  About the Book

  Natalia Stokes is a loner, a demon loner with some strange ideas about life and, well, death. Banished from Hell for being a trouble maker, would you believe, Natalia is condemned to walk the earth with no one to communicate with. You’d think that wouldn’t bother her but even loners get lonely.

  Everything changes when a chance meeting brings her to Lauren, a witch in trouble, and she sticks around long enough to help her in the guise of her familiar. The problem is, she then realises she doesn’t want to leave. She quickly learns, however, that life doesn’t always go as planned and she is forced to make a decision that will affect her for the rest of her…let’s call it existence.

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  Contents

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Prologue

  1 - The Harpy Returns

  2 - Abaddon and other demons

  3 - Reaching an agreement

  4 - Going to Hell

  5 - A Little Taste of Heaven

  6 - We are not amused

  7 - Porridge

  8 - Shop till you drop

  9 - Two sides of the coin

  10 - Questions, questions!

  11 - A plan

  12 - Untold truths

  13 - Fighting the Demon

  14 - Going to war

  15 - No more bottles of beer

  Dear reader….

  1 – Look Who’s Talking

  About the Author

  Books by Sharon Karaa

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Dedication

  To every woman who ever burned the dinner because she couldn’t put the book down and to the beleaguered few that ate it without complaining. You are Gods.

  Prologue

  How did I end up as a familiar? Well, that’s a long story, but I’m going to tell it anyway so make yourself comfortable.

  The daughter of demons, I’d stood about as much chance of getting in to heaven as a one legged man had of winning an arse kicking contest. But let’s face it, who would want to? It was full of men in frocks and prissy old women, not my scene at all. All of the really interesting people went the other way. A bit like how humans go off to hotter climates for summer holidays. The heat, the booze, the debauchery. Much more appealing than Sunday School, in my humble opinion.

  I’d been a bitter disappointment to my parents, firstly because I wasn’t a boy and secondly because I had no ambition to become a ruler of Hell. I’d amount to nothing my mother had constantly told me. And I admit it, I wasn’t particularly ambitious. I was quite content making trouble where the opportunity presented itself. And that brings me to the main factor affecting my fate.

  I’d pissed Satan off so many times, he banished me. Not because I was too good, don’t get me wrong, but because I liked to cause havoc. You’d think that would make me a good demon but apparently I didn’t do it ‘at the right time and place’.

  I’d installed sprinklers in the Fiery Pits, which really wound his Evilness up (did you know that red people turn purple when they’re angry?) For my next trick, I turned all the succubae into lesbians. He wasn’t amused. Well… a little at first… but that soon changed when he realised he wasn’t invited to the party. The last straw, the thing that finally tipped Him over the edge, was making it snow. In Hell. This probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t smashed our Lord and Master in the face with a snowball. Satan does not have a sense of humour, let me tell you that now.

  Apparently… and to get the full effect you have to think deep, sexy baritone, very, very loud voice and disapproving tone here…

  “Hell runs like a well-oiled machine!”

  With an echo.

  I swear when he said that I almost wet my knickers and I’m not scared of anything. But who knew? I thought we were all about chaos and bedlam. Still, you live and learn. Or die and learn. Or get kicked out. I guess it could have been worse.

  That left me where exactly? On earth, that’s where, stripped of my powers and unable to interact with anyone or anything.

  Nothing I did worked. I could see and hear everything that went on but no one could see or hear me. That was fun for a while, eavesdropping on private conversations or watching people getting up to mischief; but it’s no fun unless you can actually go and tell someone what you’ve heard. Like the wife of the husband who’s busy diddling the maid, for example. But when you know everyone’s dirty little secrets and yet can’t do anything about it, it’s a bit like giving a starving man a cheeseburger but gluing his lips shut. Another of my favourite tricks, but I digress.

  I couldn’t manipulate energy; I couldn’t even physically move objects and that really pissed me off. I’d have made a great ghost…scaring the shit out of everyone would have been a hoot.

  I spent my days wandering aimlessly through the centuries, looking for interesting people to amuse me. The eighteenth century was bloody boring, let me tell you. Be grateful you weren’t born then. People were far too serious in those days; no one knew how to have fun. The nineteenth century was no better. By the turn of the twentieth century I was ready to rip my hair out. Although, claim to fame, I did bump into Hitler wearing heels and a frock. That was the only interesting thing to happen and the frock wasn’t that pretty.

  I tried ending it all, I really did. Jumping off cliffs didn’t work; I just floated gently down to the ground. Being weightless had its disadvantages. I decided to drown myself and walked into the ocean but that only works if you actually need to breathe, apparently. I’d even wrapped myself around a lightning rod in the middle of a thunder storm. My hair went curly but that was about it. I swore if I ever got back to Hell, I was going to kick Satan in the balls.

  I finally decided to walk in one direction until I fell off the edge of the earth into the abyss. That could work. I could end up back in Hell. Or I could wind up permanently dead. Either one had to be an improvement on my current situation.

  Imagine my surprise when I ended up back where I’d started. The earth was round, would you believe, and now I owed Columbus and Drake a box of tobacco. Still, the way things were going I probably wouldn’t see them again so I’d never have to cough up (figuratively and literally – they both smoked like chimneys.)

  My one consolation was that things were starting to look up. We were well in to the twentieth century by now and people were becoming a lot more interesting to be around. More sin borne of more free time, I suppose, idle hands and all that. Well, that and the growing popularity of alcohol. It seemed to turn normal people into animals. A couple of drinks and before you knew it, virgins were ripping off their knickers and blokes were punching the shit out of each other. And sometimes it was the other way around.

  Then came television and I am willing to bet my knickers that, next to alcohol, this was the single biggest invention to contribute to the degradation of mankind. Full of sex and violence and the more people watched it, the more they copied. I often wondered if Satan had had a hand in its invention.

  I developed a passion for a game they call football. I loved the way thirty thousand people all came together to yell abuse at a bunch of ninnies running around a field chasing a pig’s head. I went to so many games I learned the rules and now consider myself a bit of an expert on the subject. One
day, I’ll explain the offside rule to you; no one seems to understand it, not even the referees. But not now, now there are more important things to tell you about.

  Fashion, another passion of mine, went mental round about now. No more long skirts and demure necklines, oh no. It was short skirts, long boots, leathers; I was in my element! I discovered that just by thinking about an item of clothing, I could change what I was wearing into whatever I wanted. Not that it mattered, I was the only one who could see my clothes, but it was fun, nonetheless. I loved playing dress up.

  I took a time out in a little city in the north of England called Newcastle upon Tyne. Amazing, really, how much shit people can get up to in such a small place, but it could have something to do with the number of pubs they have there; like I said, alcohol really stirs things up.

  It was while I was walking around the town centre, enjoying the rain and the grey skies, when I felt a strange pull towards a woman who was waiting at a bus stop. A bus stop is somewhere you can jump on what they call a bus, a public transport vehicle that takes you from where you are to where you want to be. In fact in Newcastle, many locals amuse themselves by watching the tourists (people from Scotland) waiting for a bus, since they very rarely turn up. Scottish people can get very irate when this happens.

  Getting back to the story, the girl I saw at the bus stop (who surprisingly was a local who should have known better) was pretty, in a normal sort of way, with long brown hair, green eyes and full lips that I imagine most men would find attractive, or at least the ones that didn’t wear knickers. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a sexual attraction I felt for her, it was…I don't know, just a strange sort of magnetism.

  She couldn’t see me but I felt so drawn to her, I couldn’t leave. I was so intrigued, I decided to hang about and try and find out what it was about her that enthralled me so. I followed her on to the bus (wonders will never cease!) and when I still couldn’t fathom it out, I followed her home. And that was when my prayers were answered. Satan had finally heard me.

  She had a cat, see, and for the first time in centuries, a living creature could see me. All right, it was just a cat, but it was a start, right? And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all fun. He obviously didn’t like me. Hissing and arching his back all the time; what’s that all about? If I could have, I would have given the little fucker a good kick up the arse. But having spent the better part of three thousand years with no company, having something to torment was a bit of a novelty.

  I decided to stick around and took up residence in her spare room. This was fine, most of the time, but she occasionally had a friend of hers to stay and I’d end up sharing. With someone who snored and thrashed about a lot in her sleep. Not conducive to a good night's rest, let me tell you. Not that I need to sleep, but I found closing my eyes and letting my mind drift away rather refreshing. I could see the appeal, I really could.

  I was with her for about a month by the time I figured out what was going on. Apparently, her ancestor was a witch by the name of Matthew Bulmer. He’d made a deal with the Devil and three witch finders had ended up in Hell. Matthew hadn’t read the contract. Tut, tut. Mind you, that was a difficult thing to do with Satan’s contracts any way because as soon as you turned the page, the words changed. The devil was nothing if not resourceful. The result was that the spirits of the three could return to earth at the start of each new generation of Matthew’s family. If they managed to wipe them out, the curse would end.

  Lauren was the last descendant of Matthew, which also meant she was a witch. And maybe that also explained why I was so drawn to her. The really great news, however, was that they intended to capture these damned souls and return them to Hell. This might well be my opportunity to get back home.

  Anyway, about a month in, Lauren was in her kitchen with an old woman called Agnes who looked like a spirit but she certainly didn’t act like one; she was solid for a start and could easily have passed for a living being. Selina, the friend who occasionally shared my bed was there and they were messing about making some potion to call what they called a ‘familiar’. I hadn’t a clue what that was but thought I’d stick around and find out. They were casting spells; I had to laugh. You don’t need to mess about with herbs and shit to make magic happen. Mind you, my magic seemed to have gone so I was up for finding out if this whole cookery show could teach me something.

  They chanted some little ditty and all of a sudden I found myself changing shape. It was the single weirdest experience I have ever had, right up there with marmite on toast. My body shrank and I found that rather than sitting on the table, I was actually under the table. I looked down at myself and noticed I was also covered in fur.

  What the fuck is Satan up to now? I thought.

  I tried to scream at them to tell them to stop but all that came out was a squeak. I ran out from under the table and Lauren jumped on her chair and screamed. Wow, now she could see me? I stopped in the middle of the floor and looked at her. Sure enough, she was pointing at me and still screaming. The cat appeared in front of me, hissing and arching his back for all he was worth.

  There was some sort of kerfuffle and the next thing I knew, the old woman, Agnes that is, had gotten down on to the floor and was eyeballing me.

  “Show yourself,” she commanded.

  I almost laughed. What was she going to do if I didn’t? Silly old bat. To my surprise, though, whatever she said, it worked and as fast as I’d transformed into a furry creature, I was back to my old self. And they could still see me! Praise the…Satan! I wanted to dance! I could have kissed each and every one of them. Well, maybe not the old crone!

  They wanted a familiar; I’d be the best damn familiar they’d ever seen!

  Once I’d figured out what that was!

  1 - The Harpy Returns

  The sounds of thumping and groaning bounced through the ceiling as I sat on the sofa in Daniel’s living room, leafing through a magazine.

  Lauren and Daniel were at it again. This was really getting old. I needed to get some action and quick; I was starting to get grouchy. It had been at least 300 years since I’d last been with a man and more than that since I’d had a demon. Listening to the two shag-athletes upstairs was making me jealous.

  There were no football matches today; nothing to distract me and I was bored. I dropped the copy of Vogue I was reading to the floor and sighed. I was even bored playing dress up. This wasn’t, unfortunately, an unusual state of affairs these days.

  I looked up at the bouncing ceiling and sighed. Lauren spent most of her time with Daniel now and I was strictly forbidden to spy on them after I was caught in the cupboard one time. I swear I was trying to find Geordie who I knew was spying but I’d never managed to find his hiding place. Dirty little pervert.

  Selina and Geordie came round a few times a week but it wasn’t enough. I was suffering from cabin fever and that was never a good thing. Boredom was the cause of all my little errors of judgement in the past and look where that got me; kicked out of Hell. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up the good girl act with nothing to distract me. I'd even considered moving on but, and this is the strange thing, I didn't want to leave my new friends. Me? A demon. With friends. I was ashamed of myself and I could hear my mother’s voice in my head every time I thought about it.

  “Demons are evil, Natalia. Demons don’t make friends, Natalia. Demons don’t do anything unless their mother tells them its ok, Natalia.” In fact, if my mother was to be believed, demons just sat in the corner until their mother needed them to do the washing or take out the rubbish.

  Our recent adventures had got me to thinking about Hell. Since the first return visit, my mind had often gone on a little merry go round of should I, shouldn’t I? To the point I was getting dizzy, but it was like a sore I had to keep picking at.

  I’d managed to use a portal to get back there and I hadn’t been instantly incinerated or thrown in to the abyss, as I’d suspected I would be. Maybe I should try and go back permanent
ly now? Maybe the Devil would let me back in? At least I knew I was capable of returning, the only question was whether or not I would be welcome. I thought for a second about my parents. Did they miss me? I snorted. Where were these thoughts coming from? When did I start caring what either one of those miscreants thought?

  What I did care about was whether or not Satan would return me to my former punishment of wandering earth with no one to play with. And of course if this happened, I may never get to see Lauren, Daniel and Selina again. Or worse, I would see them but they wouldn’t see me. I wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk. Three friends were better than none, right?

  But what if, and this is a million to one chance, Satan was feeling particularly forgiving and did let me back? What would I be going back to? My parents couldn’t stand me and I had no real friends in Hell. Making friends wasn’t really a priority down under but I had learned to value having people around who cared about you. And before you stick your fingers down your throat, I know! All this mushy stuff is not appealing! I can hear my mother in my ear again. In fact, I’m sick of her, lately.

  The alternative was to stick around here and watch those that I had come to find amusing, age and die. It was a little dilemma and I still hadn’t made my mind up, one way or the other.

  And so we go on, round and round, up and down. Up or down.

  Agnes materialised in front of me. “What’s up, arse face?”

  I smiled at her in surprise. “Agnes! Your back!”

  I jumped up from my seat and went to hug her but my arms glided straight through.

  I looked at her, shocked, and waved my arms through her form, watching them pass through her and out the other end. “What? What’s going on?”

  Agnes sighed. “It’s complicated but apparently all former elevated skills are revoked, now that I’m not here in an official capacity.” Huffing, she turned and threw herself into the chair. She went straight through it, landing on the floor on her arse and, true to form, flashing her knickers.