by Cece Rose
“You both saw her summon Solas when you were only twelve?” I ask in disbelief, my eyes growing wide. They were braver twelve-year olds than I ever was.
“Yes, and your grandma once told me after she’d inherited the family grimoires, that it looks as if quite a few generations of your family have summoned him.”
“That’s crazy,” I comment.
“What’s crazier still is Solas has never killed a single member of your family, despite the fact there were many instances of him being outside of a circle. Your grandmother never bothered with one when she called him after the first few times. That’s unheard of,” Silvia says seriously.
“Why do you think that is?” I continue to quiz her. I’ve never once heard of a demon taking a liking to a family. It’s a little absurd, and if anyone else were telling me this, I’d call them a liar.
“I’m not sure, dear. I’ve got a few theories, but that’s all they are. He could have made a deal with a very far back ancestor not to harm any descendants, or he could just be interested in you for the powerful line of magic that runs through your family. It could even be the curse you have that intrigues him, for all we know.”
“Interesting. He doesn’t seem too helpful, though. And I’m sure he’s still salty about me turning him into a cat.” He’d threatened to kill me a hundred or so times over that little mishap as well.
“It’s just something to consider. Even if he can’t get the necklace, he is a very old and powerful demon. He may have another option for curing your bad luck,” she says.
“I’ll think about it,” I reply, as I put her mug down in front of her.
“That’s all I am asking you to do,” she responds with a smile, as she pulls the mug closer to herself. “Now tell me, dear. Do you have a boyfriend? I must live my younger days through someone.”
“Oh no. Trust me, Aunt S, you don't want to hear about my love life,” I groan.
“I want to hear everything.”
I bite my lip. She’ll totally regret saying that by the time I’m done explaining the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
Seven
An Offer I Wish I Could Refuse
He’s already sitting at my favourite table in the far corner of the coffee shop when I arrive. I’ve never come here with him, so I have no idea how he knew which one to pick, and yet, he managed to choose it. This is my favourite place to grab coffee, it’s supernaturals only, so we can relax in here without worrying about humans listening to what we’re saying. They can’t even see the door to get in.
“Hey,” I greet with an awkward wave, as I sit down across from him. The chair scrapes against the floor, a loud screech that has me cringing as I scoot it closer to the table.
“I got it how you like it.” Darren nudges my coffee towards me. It smells perfect. Why does he have to be so nice right now? I hate being the bad guy.
“Thanks,” I mumble, sliding my hands around the large cup. The warmth feels nice against my fingers after being outside in the cold. I can’t help but notice the shimmer of the bracelet around my wrist. A heavy feeling of loss sinks in my stomach. I hate being cut off from my magic, but at least I’d made it here without falling over or walking in front of a bus or something.
“Look, about the other night...” he begins, but he trails off, looking at something over my shoulder. His expression goes from open, to stormy in seconds.
“Fancy seeing you two here,” a familiar voice drawls. I huff, not even needing to turn around to see who is standing behind me. What the hell is he doing here? And why the hell does Darren look so pissed to see him?
“After a month of nothing, now is when you decide to show up?” Darren jeers in an irritated voice.
“Why? Is it a bad time?” Rhydian tries for innocent, but it falls flat as he grabs a chair from the table next to us and drags it over to join us.
“Of course not,” Darren mutters. “Where have you been the last month? You didn’t get hexed with amnesia again, did you?”
“Luckily, I did not. That was a terrible two weeks. I’ve been here and there. I had a surprising but lovely visit from Kayla yesterday though, and it reminded me that it’s been far too long since I dropped by. I was going to grab some coffee and bring it to your place, but seeing as you’re both here, it saves me the phase to your house.” Rhydian smiles at us both. I roll my eyes. Yeah, he just happened to come to the coffee shop we were meeting in. The guy is a total stalker. I really don’t understand why Darren is friends with him. Sure, he was funny sometimes, and he could be fairly charming...
“Kayla came to see you?” Darren questions, looking more than a little pissed off. Shit. Why does Rhydian have to show up and make this even more difficult? I swallow.
Quick, brain! Think of something.
“Yeah. I dropped by to accuse him of murder,” I boast humorously, hoping that’ll help cool things off.
“You what?!” Darren exclaims. Maybe that wasn’t as cooling off as I’d hoped?
“Yes, Kayla was under the impression that I murdered your old boss. Despite the fact that everyone knows a witch did it,” Rhydian chuckles.
Darren turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow in question. “But did you?”
“Why would I waste my time killing that pathetic waste of oxygen? Some idiot human I have nothing to gain from killing?” Rhydian fires back. Darren thinks on it for a second, before nodding in acceptance of Rhydian’s logic. The fact that killing Jay would have served him no purpose, and not because it’s morally wrong to kill people, as his excuse for not murdering him is ridiculous. Although, I hate to admit it, but in his case, it makes his innocence more believable.
“What are you really doing here?” I ask, turning to look at Rhydian. Him not murdering Jay I believe. Him being here by coincidence? Not so much.
“I came to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” His lips quirk upwards in a subtle smile.
“This should be good,” I mutter.
Please don’t make it a sexual offer, I really don’t think it would help with my whole, ‘I’m not ready for a relationship right now’ speech that I’d prepared to give to Darren.
“You got me thinking yesterday, I really should have servers downstairs. The enchanted bar works great, but it just lacks the personal touch of having staff.”
“And this concerns me, why?” I ask.
“Well, I’d like to offer you a job working in my bar. I’m aware that you’re currently between jobs, and that you have some bar experience,” Rhydian answers confidently.
“You’re a total stalker, you know that, right?” I look at him, not understanding how he could ever think that his behaviour is normal.
“So, you’ll start tomorrow night then?” he asks with a smile, ignoring my comment.
“Of course she won’t. She’s not working there,” Darren cuts in before I can reply. I guess that settles it... I despise it when people try to dictate to me what I can and can’t do. Plus, I really do need the job.
“Well, if someone hadn’t made me lose my last job, maybe I’d have other options right now.” I turn, narrowing my eyes on Darren.
“You know what he was—
“That’s not the point. You know there were better ways to deal with that, but you acted without thinking!”
“What was I supposed to do? Sit there and listen to him talk about you like that?” he demands, his voice raising a little.
“Shut up, you’re making a scene!” I snap, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. I don’t want to have this conversation in public, and I definitely don’t want to have it in front of Rhydian.
“Well, as entertaining as you two are, I have other things to be doing right now,” Rhydian announces as he stands up.
“You know what? So do I,” I bite out, standing too. “Thanks for the coffee,” I say, turning to leave. Not that I got to drink it.
I shake off the nagging feeling in my gut that I’m just looking for excuses to run without having this conversation. I don
’t want to address that right now.
“I’ll see you at seven tomorrow night, Kayla!” Rhydian shouts after me. I turn back to ask him a few questions, but he’s already phased out of the coffee shop.
Damn. I didn’t even ask him how much he’s going to pay me. Despite it being more bar-work, I know it’ll be a very different experience from working in that dive bar. I smile as I turn around again and head out of the door into the cold.
I better get freaking hazard pay.
Eight
What’s The Worst That Could Happen?
“There’s no way in hell I’m wearing that.” I gape at the outfit Rhydian is holding up. No freaking way.
“Well, you could always wear the same outfit my upstairs severs wear. The one like Acacia wears?”
He smiles deviously as I feel myself pale. I guess sometimes you just have to accept the lesser evil.
I snatch the damned outfit from him. “Fine, but let it be known I’m not happy about it.”
“So long as you can smile and pretend you are in front of the customers, that’s all that matters,” he replies. “I’ll give you a chance to get changed. Your shift is only four hours, and the enchanted bar does most of the work here. Just smile, make sure everyone is having a good time and ordering more drinks. Okay?”
“Got it.” Having someone work behind a bar when the bar makes its own drinks and serves them without assistance seems a little pointless to me. However, if he wants to pay me five times what I was making in the dive bar just for standing around doing nothing but smiling at customers, that’s his problem.
“Also, you don’t need to worry about any of the more... shady clientele. We always have a security guy down there, and he’s been instructed to keep you out of trouble.” Rhydian leans against the doorway.
“I didn’t see any security down there last time,” I prod.
“He’s a little hard to spot, but trust me, you’ll be fine,” he reassures me.
“Fine, whatever you say, boss,” I say, rolling my eyes as I throw the ridiculous outfit onto the sofa.
“As my employee, I should probably discourage you from sassing me, but I kind of like it.” I hear the door shut behind him before I can turn around and respond to what he said. Typical Rhydian.
I sigh, disgruntled, but resigned as I pick up the tiny, black shorts. I’d doubt my ability to fit into them if I didn’t already know how good Rhydian was at estimating sizes. As I shimmy out of my jeans and pull off my shirt, I realise something. I’m wearing the damned underwear he bought me that day in the sex shop.
What kind of idiot takes a job working for a possible criminal slash fae prince slash the universe’s most dodgy bar owner that bought her underwear the first time they met? Well, the first time they met him as Rhydian anyway.
Something is definitely wrong with me. I smirk. At least my life isn’t boring. I pull on the tiny black shorts, that somehow miraculously fit. I eye the skimpy and tight white top. My black bra will show right through it. Ugh. I pull it on regardless, finding it seems to form to every inch of my body perfectly. I walk over to the mirror I’d spotted in the corner of the room.
I watch the smile spread across my face as I flip my long hair back over my shoulders. Despite my reservations, I must admit I look pretty good in this. A little slutty, but damn, maybe I needed to convince Rhydian to come shopping with me. Not for every day clothes, mind you, but he’d pick out much better outfits for going clubbing with Lizzy than I ever do. My reflection’s smile vanishes. Not that I’ll be needing a new dress anytime soon.
Shuffling away from my sad reflection, I shove all my things into my bag, and then walk back over to the mirror. Forcing a smile, I shake off the sad thoughts and focus. I tilt my head; one thing does look off about my whole outfit. I slide off the bracelet that Rhydian gave to me. It looks weird with the outfit somehow.
I shrug, throwing the bracelet into my bag. It’s only four hours until the end of my shift anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?
Nine
This
Fuck. I jerk back, stumbling a bit in my attempt to get away from the shattered glass shards now covering the floor behind the bar. It would be just my luck to cut myself on one of them. Even more likely with my luck, my painful death caused by a thousand tiny glass cuts.
The pretty mirror that previously decorated the wall behind the middle section of the bar is now lying in small, jagged pieces at my feet. A witch cursed with bad luck goes and breaks a mirror. Go figure.
Would breaking a mirror cause my bad luck to get worse? Or does an additional dose of bad luck just cancel the first out?
Biting my lip, I look up and notice I hold the attention of everyone in the room. I’m not sure if it’s for my entertainment value, or if they’re just staring out of sheer disbelief. I’d dropped two glasses, fallen over, and managed to break a once very beautiful mirror. All achieved in under an hour.
Suppressing a sigh, I grab my bag from its hidden spot under the bar and quickly rifle through, fishing out my bracelet. I stare at it for a second, resentful of its necessity, but I don’t want to cut myself cleaning this up. I’d have to mute my magic and wear the damned bracelet after all.
A screeching noise fills the bar, drowning out the soft music playing in the background. I jolt in surprise, dropping the bracelet before I realise it’s an alarm sounding. Shit. I crouch down, careful and deliberate with my movements to avoid the glass, and I reach for it. Once I’ve managed to grab the bracelet, I stand back up. I look around in bewilderment, the room has cleared and is nearly empty now.
I spot a couple of witches rushing to enter a portal that’s appeared on the far end of the room. It closes behind them as soon as the witch steps through. I gulp, glancing around at the last few stragglers in the room. They look a little annoyed, but not too concerned.
I suppose it’s safe to assume that wasn’t a fire alarm then.
“How come you didn’t leave with the rest of them?” I ask the only person still sitting at the bar.
He responds with a thin smile. “I’m not wanted for anything.”
“Wanted?” I question, confusion lacing my tone.
“EVERYONE STAY WHERE YOU ARE. KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!” a booming voice shouts from somewhere out of sight.
Suddenly, I understand the purpose of the alarm. It’s a loud warning for anyone here with an outstanding warrant, letting them know they need to vacate the premises. I’m a little unnerved at the realisation that included about ninety percent of the people in the damn room. Well, The Rift isn’t exactly known for its classy clientele.
I allow myself to relax a little. It’s not like I have anything to worry about; I’m not a criminal. Hell, I’m not even a suspect for murder anymore. Lizzy holds that honour now.
Biting my lip, I put my hands on the bar so that they’re clearly visible. The bracelet is resting on the bar, hidden under my palm as I haven’t gotten a chance to put it on yet.
The door at the far end of the room is kicked open, and a group dressed in black storm in. I count ten of them. The guy at the front of the group looks pissed as hell when he catches sight of the almost empty room.
“How the fuck did they know that we were coming?” a woman to his left gripes.
“Shut up, Cami,” the guy at the front snaps. He takes a deep breath before adding, “We might still have some luck.” He scans the room with a careful and methodical eye. Everyone who was drinking in the bar now sits calmly with their hands either held up or laid out on the table in front of them. The woman—Cami—releases an indignant huff.
“Now, nobody moves. You even flinch, and we will curse you down quicker than you can blink. No magic from any of you. Jimmy at the back there is watching all of you with his second sight. If anyone so much as casts a damned calming charm, you’ll be taken down. Do you all understand me?” The man barks out. Everyone stays silent and unmoving. I’m content to follow their lead, not wanting to draw attention to
myself. “Perfect,” he mutters to himself.
The guy sighs and then strides over to the customer nearest to him. He pulls out a small device and holds it up in front of the other man, a calculating look on his face, “Do you know what this is?”
“Not a clue.” The customer examines the device with a wary eye, almost as if he holds a suspicion or two about what it could be.
“It scans you. Your face. Your aura’s signature. Your damned DNA. All in about two seconds. MagiTech has come a long way in the past few years, and they’re finally letting us take these out on trial,” he explains with a smug smile.
I notice a few people twitching nervously across the room. People that I’m guessing may not have a warrant out for them specifically, but their DNA or magical signature? I’d be willing to bet some of them at least have something to worry about.
“Scan away,” the customer says, shrugging his shoulders. Clearly, he isn’t one of the worried ones now he knows what the device does.
The guy in black holds the scanner out in front of the customer’s face. A beam of light dances out from the device, before sharply cutting out. “You’re clean,” the guy says, sounding a little disappointed if anything. He moves on to the next customer, a petite woman with white blonde hair. Light fae, if I had to guess.
Cami pulls an identical device from her pocket and makes her way towards the guy sitting at the bar across from me. I notice the sweat beading across his brow. She grins, looking like a cat playing with a mouse when she, too, sees his nerves.