"I am not," Beatrix said firmly, "having a community consultation with him. Now, can we please get back to work? That sage essence isn't going to bless itself, now is it?"
✽✽✽
"Why do I work with crazy people, Gumbo?" Beatrix asked the huge dog as she ferociously stabbed her needle through her latest embroidery project. "Onyx, okay, I can see him thinking it's a good idea for me to get coffee with this asshole developer. He's a romantic, under all that death worship stuff. But Shauna? She hates men! I can't believe she was all for it."
Gumbo made a whimper of assent and looked up at her with complete trust and adoration.
"You agree with everything I say, don't you, my love?" Beatrix crooned, scratching him between his ears. "I can't believe my mother thinks that a dog is a pet ill-befitting a witch. She's all about the cats. But cats are assholes. They only think about themselves. If I wanted more of that in my life, I'd date a warlock."
Gumbo let his massive head drop to her lap and began to drool slightly. Beatrix didn't mind. A little drool was a small price to pay for a friend as loyal as Gumbo.
"I wish I could curse him," she mused. "Or do something to protect that bush from being bulldozed. Like, every time someone came close, they got a nasty case of boils." She sighed. "But I made that promise. No magic on unsuspecting Ordinaries."
"I'll go to Council tomorrow. Find out what all this is about. Lodge an official objection," she brightened up at that thought. "I mean, it happens all the time, right? A big evil developer tries to swoop in, and the community fight it? I bet I could convince people around here to do that!"
This time, however, Gumbo ignored her. He had fallen asleep. Beatrix smiled indulgently. He really was the laziest dog she had ever met, but she loved him for it. She held up her embroidery and eyed it critically. The skull she was embroidering with glowing red eyes was coming along nicely. All she had to do now was add a border of interlaced human femurs, and it would make a perfect birthday present for Onyx.
"I don't know, Gumbo," she said finally. "Maybe Shauna's right. Maybe it will be a slow process. Maybe I won't see this Jacob again for years."
She could only hope so.
5 Jacob
"I saw the invoice come through for a temporary site office," Chuck said, and Jacob could hear him chewing something that sounded like a custard Danish on the other end of the phone. "Why the hell are you setting yourself up there? You can work out of the city office."
"I, uh," Jacob began. "I thought it would be good to get a feel for the area."
Chuck snorted, and Jacob could imagine the little pieces of Danish zooming out of his father's mouth and all over the highly polished mahogany desk. "But why?" he pressed. "There's nothing out there. Just trees, a few caravan parks, and seedy locals. What a crap hole!"
"It's not that bad," Jacob said. The truth was, he had rather liked Shepherd's Crossing when he had visited the week before - despite the welcome he had got from his nearest neighbour. The thick cover of trees kept back the blistering Sydney sun, and Jacob was sure that he had spotted a rare native grass in the undergrowth. When he had driven through a tiny cluster of shops down the road, he had seen people sitting outside in the sunshine, talking and laughing like they were simply happy to be alive. "It's, uh, kind of nice."
Chuck snorted again, and Jacob could imagine more crumbs joining their fellows. "Look, suit yourself," he said. "But you wouldn't catch me out there."
Jacob decided that it would not be diplomatic to mention that was precisely why he had decided to set up at Shepherd's Crossing. Well, almost the entire reason, anyway. A memory of red hair and furiously flashing eyes surfaced for just a moment, and he wanted to laugh out loud at himself.
"It will be helpful to have somewhere to meet potential tenants and buyers," Jacob said quickly. "The whole site is just covered in trees right now. There are no landmarks."
"You'll have to get that sorted out," Chuck said. "Maybe I'll drop by when you get the bulldozers going!" He laughed uproariously as though he had said something very witty. "I'm counting on you to get this right, Jacob," he said after a moment. "It's a prime piece of land. I could have given it to your brother, I know he'd do the right thing. I'm trusting you."
Jacob bit his tongue. He knew that every single one of his projects had been as successful in the long run as Tom's had. And he knew that he had saved his father and brother from trouble with the tax office or Department of Planning more times than he could count. But that didn't matter to his father. Only quick profits impressed Chuck Jones.
"Thanks, Dad," he said instead. "I won't let you down."
The phone call ended, and Jacob sighed, looking down at Prada in his lap.
"You'll like it out at the site," he said. "Lots of new smells and things to bark at."
Prada looked up at him warily but licked his fingers anyway.
"Who knows?" Jacob grinned. "You might even get to bark at Gumbo and Beatrix again."
✽✽✽
Despite his father's reservations, Jacob didn't regret installing a temporary site office at Shepherd's Crossing. It felt good - more than good - to know that he wouldn't have to be in the same office as his brother and father every day for a long time. He loved his family; he really did. But seeing them almost every day at work wasn't healthy for any of them. Especially him. His father and Tom would probably be sad to lose their favourite target for practical jokes, not to mention the person who remembered things like when important meetings were.
Jacob was feeling pretty damn good about the world in general when he drove out to Shepherd's Crossing that morning. The sun was shining, but it wasn't yet oppressively hot as he pulled up as close as he could to the site office. Which just happened to be a short walk from the boundary fence with Beatrix's property. There were plenty of practical reasons for setting up there, he thought, but he couldn't deny that he hoped to catch another glimpse of his fierce, gorgeous new neighbour.
"Come and check out your new kingdom," Jacob said, unclipping Prada from the specially-made car seat he had installed for her. She looked at him with her beady eyes, yipped shrilly, and jumped down, running in circles through the long grass around the site office and portable toilet.
Jacob laughed and opened the door. "Well, it's not much," he said. "But we've got internet and a coffee machine. All the essentials."
Prada took no notice of him as she sniffed eagerly at what looked suspiciously like possum droppings.
"Please don't eat that," Jacob said in dismay, picking her up and taking her into the austere site office. There were a few chairs clustered around a low table, a desk, the hum of a tiny refrigerator with a coffee machine perched on top and... Nothing else. It was kind of depressing, Jacob thought. But much less depressing than being stuck in the office in the city.
"I know, I need to get you a bed," Jacob said as Prada looked around the small room with an almost human expression of disdain. She let out a shrill yip and jumped up into one of the chairs that were supposed to be for potential clients, baring her teeth at him.
"Suit yourself," Jacob said mildly and began to set up his laptop. From the desk, he could see out of the single large window. The mobile office itself might be spartan, but that view of the trees was a very welcome change.
✽✽✽
"Okay, we'll go for a walk!" Jacob said out loud as Prada began to circle by the door in a worrying manner. "Please don't pee in here. We'll never get the deposit back if you do."
Prada looked like she was considering doing precisely that, just to mess with him. He wished, just for a moment, that he had inherited a less vindictive dog from his ex-girlfriend. But he knew deep down that he wouldn't trade Prada, with all her quirks and aggression, for the most placid and well-mannered of dogs. She was his, and that was that.
Jacob sighed, sliding open the door and pulling on a baseball cap printed with an engineering firm's logo. He'd need to get a better hat, he thought, if he was going to spend much more time out here.
He had inherited his mother's olive skin, but he knew all too well that it didn't make him immune to cancer or, worse still according to his mother, wrinkles.
He clipped a lead to Prada's polka dot harness, pretty sure he'd need to carry her through the dense undergrowth and long grass. She was, after all, an unusually tiny dog. Prada was persistent though and she led him through the overgrown grass and into the cover of the nearby trees.
It was a beautiful spot, Jacob had to admit. Under the trees here, you could imagine you were hours and hours from civilisation. In reality, of course, there was a bakery and service station less than ten minutes away - not to mention Beatrix's workshop even closer. Still, he could pretend to be away from it all. Maybe he could see why Beatrix had been so upset at the idea of this land being bulldozed. It wasn't as though he liked that part of his job, not the way his father and brother did. He was a big fan of trees. But if he didn't develop this land, someone else would. And with a lot less care and attention than he'd give it.
Jacob stopped suddenly and stooped down to examine a patch of pink shrubbery. "A pink pimelea," he said wonderingly. "I thought these were almost extinct in the wild. That's amazing!"
Prada didn't look even remotely impressed by his discovery. She was far more interested in sniffing out the droppings of what could have been more possums or even a wallaby in the intricate root systems of the towering gum trees. Jacob swore he wasn't guiding her towards the boundary fence with Beatrix's property. Not really...
This fence, unlike the one along the road, was well maintained. Beatrix must have done that, Jacob thought. He could see what looked like a giant timber shed not far from the fence, an enormous garden surrounding it. What was it that Beatrix did out here, he wondered?
He looked around keenly for Beatrix's tell-tale red hair, but to his disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen. But that huge dog of hers came bounding through the rows of garden beds, through the trees, and up to the fence. His whole body was wagging with joy to see Prada again.
Jacob considered picking her up, but there was a fence between his tiny dog and the enormous Gumbo. Besides, Gumbo hadn't seemed aggressive, and he knew Prada could hold her own.
"Okay," Jacob said, long sufferingly. "Do what you think you need to do, girl."
What Prada seemed to need to do was jump at the fence with surprising force while barking shrilly with all the volume of a baby on an aeroplane. Gumbo seemed delighted by her aggressive attention, wagging his tail so fast it was a blur of black and tan as he attempted to lick her through the fence.
"He wants to be friends, Prada," Jacob said. "You could try being nice for a change, you know."
"Gumbo!" A voice from near the greenhouses. But not Beatrix. Jacob knew that instantly. A figure dressed all in black except for an enormous white beekeeper's hat suddenly appeared, approaching the fence. "Gumbo, come back here!"
Jacob squinted. It looked like a man, he thought. But with long black hair hanging beneath the mesh of the hat, it was kind of hard to tell.
"Hi, there!" Jacob called, waving. Was this Beatrix's boyfriend, perhaps? Would he be as disgusted by Jacob's presence as she had been?
The figure looked up at him, and as he came closer, Jacob saw that he was right. The person was definitely a man and an unusual looking one too. He was wearing all black, with tight leather motorcycle pants that must have been uncomfortably sweaty. Underneath the hat and veil, the man had a round, pale face, and Jacob could see that his rather small eyes were ringed with smudged black eyeliner.
"Hello," the man called back. "Are you..." he paused, looking at Jacob suspiciously. "Are you the developer?"
Jacob tried to hide his surprise. "Er, yes," he said. "That's me. Jacob Jones, nice to meet you."
"Beatrix told me about you," the man said, and his face twitched like he was trying not to smile. "I'm Onyx," he said, sticking a hand over the fence. "I work with Beatrix. Well, for Beatrix. She's the boss."
"Is she really?"
"It's her company," he said. "She started the whole thing. I'm just a lackey."
"Er, right," Jacob said, looking past Onyx at the raised beds and greenhouse. "And what exactly do you make?"
"You don't know?" Onyx frowned. "We make skincare. Really good skincare. Because Beatrix is a genius."
"Oh, I see," Jacob said. "Some kind of all-natural, organic kind of thing?"
"Something like that," Onyx agreed, though he was smirking like Jacob had unintentionally said something funny. "Beatrix says you're going to bulldoze all this." Onyx waved a hand to indicate the wilderness behind Jacob. "And turn it into a factory or something."
"It's not going to be a factory," Jacob frowned. "Maybe I'll get a few industrial tenants, but I'm hoping to build up more of a commercial hub. I want to see how much of this bushland we can keep intact, make it into a feature. Like a public park or a reserve."
Onyx raised his eyebrows. "Really?" It was clear that he didn't believe Jacob. "I suppose it doesn't really matter," he said after a moment. "All life is decay anyway. Just a matter of time until everything you love is destroyed. If it wasn't you, well, it would be someone else coming to tear it all down. Nothing we can do."
Jacob was more than a little taken aback by that dire pronouncement, but he supposed it fit with Onyx's outfit. He wondered, just for a moment, if Onyx was the man's real name. Onyx was a hell of a thing to call an innocent baby.
"Well, I'd better..." Jacob turned, trying to guide Prada away from the fence.
Onyx waved one hand in a solemn farewell, and Jacob escaped back through the trees. He was still keen to see Beatrix again. But Onyx? Jacob had never met a goth in the wild before and Onyx was kind of creepy.
✽✽✽
"I see you've already started destroying the place," a voice called out as Jacob got out of his car the next morning. Prada heard it too and leapt from his arms and towards the source.
Jacob turned and was surprised to see Beatrix, accompanied by Gumbo held on a tight lead.
"Prada, get back here!' Jacob called, but it was too late. She had already made her way to Gumbo and was running as fast as her tiny legs could carry her around him in tight circles while Beatrix held his leash firmly.
"Ignore her, Gumbo," Beatrix said, but instead, Gumbo disgraced himself by rolling onto his back and offering his vast belly to the tiny dog. "Seriously?" she said, looking down at him. "Your choice, dude."
Jacob watched in astonishment as Prada pulled at Gumbo's ears with her little teeth, but her tail was wagging just as much as his was. Gumbo occasionally swiped at her with one paw, but he could see how gentle the enormous dog was being.
"Are they...playing?" Jacob said wonderingly.
"Apparently," Beatrix said with a grimace. "And Gumbo thinks your dog is the boss."
"Prada doesn't really play," Jacob said, scratching his chin. He needed to shave, he thought. It was a fine line between designer stubble and unkempt. "I mean, she doesn't like other dogs."
"She does now," Beatrix said. "Gumbo, you traitor. Fraternising with the enemy."
"Enemy?" Jacob said. "You're the one trespassing again."
Beatrix shrugged. "You said you wouldn't prosecute trespassers." Her face darkened. "Or was that a lie?"
"Not planning on prosecuting you any time soon," Jacob said mildly. "Just surprised you've come to visit."
"This isn't a social call," Beatrix's cheeks flushed slightly. "I've got a right to see what's being built right next door to me, don't I?"
"Well, nothing's been built," Jacob said, jerking a thumb at the site office. "This is just temporary."
Beatrix wrinkled her nose as she regarded the site office. "Are you really planning to work in that thing?" she said. "It looks like a shipping container."
"But it has air-conditioning," Jacob said. "And a coffee machine. Trust me, I've worked in worse places than this."
"I doubt that," Beatrix said sourly. She paused, still looking at him. "I talked to Council," she said. "Well,
I tried to anyway. I was on hold for hours. Eventually, someone told me that you've got all the proper permits, it's a state planning issue, and frankly, they're delighted at all the new revenue you developers are going to create around here." Beatrix emphasised revenue as though it were a disgusting swearword.
"Well, Adrian did try to tell you," Jacob said, almost apologetically. "Even if he wasn't very polite about it."
"Friend of yours?" Beatrix pressed. "Business partner?"
"No, actually," Jacob said, somewhat defensive. "He was just the surveyor. We're a family business, actually. I work with my dad and brother. But this project is... Well, it's just me."
"Lucky you," Beatrix said sarcastically.
"Trust me, if you think I'm an evil developer, you should meet them," Jacob said, only half-joking.
"Well, even if Council seems to want you, I'm sure I can stir up a community protest," Beatrix said. "Maybe we could chain ourselves to the trees."
Jacob laughed. "You'll be waiting a while," he said. "I haven't sold any lots yet or arranged any tenancies. It's going to be ages before anything happens. But if you're not busy, feel free to set yourself up. I'd bring a book."
"I heard you met Onyx the other day," Beatrix said, ignoring his comment. "He said that you're going to keep some of the bushland. Is that true?"
"I'm certainly going to try," Jacob said. "Interesting chap, Onyx," he grinned. "Your boyfriend?"
Beatrix made a noise. "Absolutely not," she said quickly.
"Is his name really Onyx?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
Beatrix laughed. "No," she admitted. "I've known him since high school, and it's not. But I won't tell you what his real name is. He likes to be Onyx."
"That's very loyal of you," Jacob said, smiling slightly. "So, are you ready to have an actual conversation about the development yet? I can tell you my plans, show you that I'm not actually pure evil. Maybe over dinner?" He couldn't help flirting. Beatrix was, after all, very pretty and more than a little intriguing.
Witch Way Now: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Raising Hell Downunder Book 4) Page 4