Magic Shop Novels & Stories

Maeve Three Years Ago “Norman, what are we going to do?” I hear my mother saying to my father. I’ve just gotten out of school and I’ve come to help my parents in our shop, Conjuror’s Alchemy. They bought this store a year ago when they left their coven. They wanted a fresh start, and while the store sells things to non-witches who want to pretend that they are doing witchy things, it’s a front for real witches that need to obtain certain items to create real spells.

Bruce asks me. I shake my head. "I could use a ride if you don't mind. I am not sure I am ready to drive today," I say. I know I am not ready to drive. "I can take you, but first, I have to tell you something. I made some calls while you were sorting through some things. I wanted to give you some space. I found both of your uncles. They own a little magic shop in New Orleans. It is called Elemental Magic," Bruce says.

My heart ached, and I was at a loss, so, I decided to find a place to have my necklace repaired. In fact, there were a lot of jewelry stores on Sayreville's main street, and they offered jewelry restoration services. But the necklace was an important relic my mother left me, and I was worried that they wouldn't take it seriously enough. I pondered for a moment and went to Mabel's Aurora Pack to find an old craftsman there. The old craftsman was a werewolf in his fifties. "Is there something broken?" the old craftsman asked me with a smile.

Sophie . . I walked into the fifth artisan store. At 10 a.m., yet my body was weak and tired from moving about, hoping to find this piece. I had no idea why Mr. Beckham was so persistent about this particular item, and I wasn’t bold enough to tell him I couldn’t get it. I just can’t afford to look incompetent. "Excuse me," I said, showing the man behind the counter the design—a black wooden moon with curved lines carved in it. "Do you have anything like this?"

It was a beautiful work of art. “An excellent choice!” The shop owner said appearing behind them and starting both women. He hovered close a bit too close offering his help. Sylvia usually coped with it, and Liam was usually around to keep the old man busy and away as well. “If you are interested, we also offer a large variety of works such as hand engraved cribs and beds for children,” he purred, already pushing the store magazines into their hands. “Such fine women like you would surely mate and have children soon,” the old man smiled, his smile so commercial and ready to sell air if it was possible.

asked a shop assistant politely. “I'm actually looking for small objects like this, are there any higher grade?” asked Xiao Long while pointing at a block of small objects. “Ah, sorry, that is the highest tier we have at the moment. If you want it, you can wait for a week or you can just go to the Blacksmith directly. But if you go to the Blacksmith, you will have to bring materials and also pay a Blacksmith a fairly high price. So I suggest waiting for our stock to be replenished” The shop assistant said with a smile.

Finally, the shop assistant halted before a wall adorned with all sorts of trinkets and oddities, gleaming dully under the dim, strategically placed lights. It was a chaotic display of polished stones, intricate metalwork, and dried, twisted herbs. With a proud, sweeping wave of its hand, it gestured towards them. "These are new and unique," it intoned. "You won't find them anywhere in the widest vicinity, not even in Human Town. These come from Europe, manufactured in the original witch factory in the deepest primeval forest." The last phrase was delivered with a subtle flourish, as if meant to evoke images of ancient, mystical production.

The audacity he had for selling fake things to me to make profits. His shop was at the back of pilgrims market, where illegal business takes place. We arrived at his large shop and we were let in. He looked very enthusiastic to see us, if only he knew what was coming for him. “Sir Damien, to what do I owe this surprise visit?” He asked. I smiled as I placed my hands on his shoulder where he sat beside us. “My good man, am I not allowed to pay you a visit,eh? Or is there something you're hiding?” I asked with a mischievous grin on my face.

The name sounded utterly fantastical, straight out of a forbidden grimoire. "Yes, I know him, through Perseus, actually." She explained, her voice steady. "He's a rather notorious retailer and a defect dragon at Reek's Market, a hidden, underground bazaar notorious for illegal magical exchanges. Asmodeus learned wizardry from an old, powerful wizard, so he's an absolute professional when it comes to potions, especially reverse ones, potions designed to undo spells or curses." She paused, her expression clouding slightly. "There's just one slight problem he mentioned, however."

It wasn't close. I tucked the necklace into my pocket and walked toward town. The jeweler's shop sat on the corner of the market square, between the butcher and the candlemaker. A bell rang when I pushed the door open. The shop was dim and smelled like metal polish and old wood. The owner, Mr. Harwick, was a thin man with wire-framed glasses and fingers stained yellow from cleaning solution. He looked up from his worktable and took his time recognizing me. "Crane girl," he said. "What do you need?"