Null Witch: Secondhand Magic #1

by Lori Drake

  “Now he’s just like you, Null!” Dan, my younger brother, had taunted.

  It was far from a fair comparison, but try arguing that with a seven-year-old. My cousin had lost his gift. I never had one in the first place. And yet, despite my “disability,” I’m a fully functional human being. Burned-out witches are little more than empty husks. Poor Jane would never be the same again.

  But I couldn’t tell Dr. Bob that. He may have been the world’s nicest guy, but no one I worked with knew I was anything but a mundie. I preferred it that way. That didn’t mean the itch to put his mind at ease wasn’t there.

  “Yes, doctor,” I said.

  I’m not sure he heard me before the curtain swished shut behind him. Sighing, I turned my attention back to the comatose woman on the gurney. The best way to alleviate the doctor’s concern was to do what he’d asked me to. As for Jane, she deserved the same care, the same compassion I’d give any patient.

  I performed my tasks with due diligence, finding no sign of injury along the way, no irregularities with her vitals, no indication of any kind of assault. Dr. Bob returned to complete his examination and ordered blood tests and imaging. But her blood work and scans would come back clean, because what was wrong with her wasn’t something science could fix. She would never be whole again. As someone who had never been “whole” to start with, I couldn’t begin to understand what she was going through. But I did wonder how she’d ended up that way.

  Chapter 3

  The rest of my shift was pleasantly uneventful, even for a full moon. My shift ended at six, and by six-forty-five I’d finished changeover, showered and changed, and was on my way to the restaurant to meet my date for the evening. Jane Doe was still in the back of my mind as I drove the short distance from the hospital to the restaurant. I’d wanted to check in on her before I left, but I didn’t have time. I’m pretty sure Matt timed it that way on purpose so I wouldn’t have a chance to back out.

  Matt had been my best friend and self-appointed love guru since we broke things off. I think he felt guilty; I was his last girlfriend before he came out of the closet.

  Okay, that’s understating it a bit. I was still his girlfriend when he came out of the closet. Now, there are basically two things that can happen in that situation. One, you hate the person and your self-confidence is diminished for the rest of your life. Or, two, you get the hell over it and remain friends. The way I think about it, Matt and I always had a connection. It just took us a while to figure out what it was. I’m not saying it wasn’t a shock, or that I didn’t need some time to process it. But in the end, I decided that my life was vastly better with Matt in it than it was without.

  A few of the dates he’d set me up on since then caused me to question that stance. What did it say about me that the only way I could get a date was for my gay ex to fix me up? I tried not to think too hard about that.

  Tonight’s selection—jeez, I make him sound like a wine—already had one strike against him: his name was Barry. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have been so judgmental. Don’t judge a book by its cover, yadda, yadda. In this case, I hadn’t even seen the cover, so it was more like judging a book by its title. Anyway. It’s just a name. Right?

  But have you ever met anyone named “Barry” that didn’t belong in 1985? It sounded like someone’s weird uncle from an ‘80s family sitcom. A name to be spoken with playful exasperation. “Oh, Barry!” Men my age weren’t named Barry, which was probably why I was eyeing a silver fox at the bar speculatively when the well-groomed stranger approached me.

  “Emily? Wow, your picture doesn’t do you justice.” His voice was deep, melodic, like warm honey.

  I looked up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and for a long moment, I was struck dumb. Speechless. Like that ever happens. Ever. Guess there really is a first time for everything.

  “Are you okay?” he asked with concern. I must have been staring. I felt my cheeks flush… Oh, good grief, I was actually blushing in front of this bright-eyed Adonis. Definitely a modern vintage.

  “Uh, yeah. Yes. Sorry, hi! I’m Emily. I hope you’re Barry and not some creepy stalker,” I said, making an attempt at humor while admonishing myself inwardly. Looks aren’t everything. Get a grip, Em.

  But looks, he had them. Chiseled jaw, twin dimples flanking a generous smile. Straight, white teeth. Short blond hair, but long enough to run your fingers through or grab a handful of in the heat of passion.

  I was so not imagining running my fingers through his hair while he was introducing himself.

  “Ha! No. If that were the case, I would have said you looked much better in person than through binoculars,” he said, accompanying the quip with a playful wink. Good-looking and a sense of humor, to boot. Best of all? Not even a hint of magic in him.

  Laughing, I let him guide me to the hostess stand so we could be seated, and I settled in to get to know Barry better.

  “Matt tells me you’re a ski instructor at the resort?”

  He nodded. “Yup. This is my second winter. I have to admit, when I heard there was a ski resort around here I was skeptical.”

  Laughter bubbled from my throat. “I can understand that. All the pictures you see of the desert southwest are parched landscapes in warm tones, right?”

  “With colorful sunsets in the background,” he added, with a chuckle.

  “Yeah, I thought it’d be that year-round when I moved out here. I got a rude awakening that first winter. They get quite a bit of powder in the mountains, but even down here we average something like twenty-five inches per year.”

  “It’s good for business, at least. My business, that is.”

  Smiling, I nodded. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

  The meal passed pleasantly enough, with light conversation flowing steadily throughout. When we finished, the waiter discreetly made our plates disappear. It was the sort of place where they’d pack up your leftovers and bring them to the table in a little sack, which I always felt was preferable to having someone drop off a styrofoam container and expecting you to pack it up yourself. Okay, maybe on some level there’s still a little bit of spoiled rich kid inside of me.

  It wasn’t until after the table was clear that the question I’d been dreading came up.

  “So, how did you and Matt meet?”

  “Drag show,” I joked. Matt was so not that kind of queer.

  Barry laughed, but in that knowing way that said he was in on the joke. “Aw, come on. Really.”

  I fidgeted with my napkin and floundered for a response, certain Barry didn’t realize we were poised on the precipice of more personal territory. I never know how to answer that question. It was complicated. Embarrassing. You’d think I would’ve given it more thought, since Matt setting me up on blind dates wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Deciding to go the literal route, I folded my napkin and set it on the table in front of me in what ought to be a universal signal for “no dessert, thank you” even if it rarely actually worked.

  “It’s not a very exciting story, really. We were neighbors when I first moved to town. I think I met him at the mailbox or something. It’s not like apartment dwellers exchange casseroles or anything.”

  “Oh, that’s great. I never really thought about it, but now that you mention it, I don’t know anyone in my building but my roommate. It’s funny how that works. As close as we all live to each other, I can’t even say I know anyone’s first name.” He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

  “Yeah, tell me about it. I work weird hours sometimes, too. Night shifts. They probably think I’m some kind of vampire.”

  He chuckled. “But vampires don’t exist, do they?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I looked over to see our waitress approaching with a single plate and a big smile. Her hand was cupped around the front of a flickering candle to keep the little flame from guttering as she approached the table.

 
My cheeks heated, and I glanced at Barry to find him smiling from ear to ear, dimples on full display. I snatched my napkin from the table just in time for the waitress to set the plate in front of me.

  “Happy birthday,” she said, then made herself scarce.

  I sat there awkwardly, staring at the tiny chocolate cake in front of me. I could feel the eyes of curious diners on me and shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

  Barry leaned forward in his chair, resting an elbow on the table. “I hope it’s okay. Matt said you didn’t like to make a big deal out of your birthday, so I asked them not to sing. But I hated to let it go completely unremarked.”

  “It’s fine. Thank you.” The words sprung to my lips automatically. I could at least pretend to appreciate the gesture. I pursed my lips to blow out the candle.

  “Make a wish,” Barry said, stopping me short.

  I didn’t put much stock in wishes, but Jane Doe’s face flashed through my mind. I didn’t think there was anything to be done for her, but I wished for her soul to find peace before blowing the tiny flame out.

  When I looked up, Barry was watching me with a thoughtful expression. I plucked the candle from the cake and set it aside. “What?”

  “Just wondering.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d like what he was fishing for, but I bit anyway. “Wondering what?”

  “Why you don’t like to make a fuss over your birthday. You’re too young to be sensitive about your age.”

  Chuckling, I moved the sugar caddy and shaker set out of the way and slid the plate into the center of the table. He wasn’t wrong. I was only twenty-eight. “I wasn’t aware there was a minimum age for that. Help me eat this, will you?”

  “So, that’s it then? You don’t like to be reminded about getting older?” He grabbed his still-clean butter knife and sliced the tiny cake in half.

  “Eh, not really. My relationship with my birthday is… complicated.” To say the least. I took a bite of the cake, which was just as tasty as the rest of the meal had been. Granted, I’ve never met chocolate I didn’t like.

  “Complicated how?”

  The guy was relentless. I grimaced, taking longer to chew than necessary as I put on my mental tap-dancing shoes. “I’m not sure this is first-date material, but… my birthday was never a cause for celebration. I’m kind of the disappointment of the family.”

  “I can’t begin to understand how that’s true. You’re beautiful, smart, have a successful medical career…”

  I snorted. “Matt told you I’m a nurse, not a neurosurgeon, right?”

  He smiled. “Even neurosurgeons need nurses.”

  “Granted.” Point for him. “Let’s just say that no matter what I do with my life, it’ll never be enough for my mother. I quit trying ages ago.”

  “Does your family live around here?”

  I laughed. “Oh, hell no. I came all the way out here to get away from them. What about you?”

  “Colorado. I’m just here for the winter.” He paused for a beat, and those dimples came out again. “Well, unless I find a good reason to stick around.”

  Charming devil.

  Barry paid for dinner. He also kissed my hand and didn’t try to walk me to my car. Chivalrous without being overbearing. Another point for Barry. On the whole, it was a nice date, but I was glad it hadn’t lingered too late. It had been a long day, and I wanted to go home, kick off my shoes, and relax before I had to get up and do it all over again the next day—minus the date, that is. It might have been Tuesday, but it was my crazy schedule’s version of Thursday, and I was feeling the late-week fatigue already. Being on your feet so much is tiring, no matter how used to it you get.

  Snow began to fall while I was driving home, dusting the city in a layer of fresh powder. I could hardly believe it was already December. The year seemed to go by so quickly. Time may fly when you’re having fun, but it also tends to fly any other time you’re not really paying attention to it. Two more years to the big three-oh. By the time my mother was my age, she’d already had four kids, myself included. Just another way I’d never be like her, I suppose. Granted, not popping out a half-dozen kids was probably the only thing about me she approved of. I doubt she wanted me further muddying the bloodline with my inferior genes.

  I pulled into my usual spot in the parking lot. They’re not numbered, but it’s a small enough building that everyone tends to gravitate toward a particular spot by unspoken social agreement. The scent of wood smoke from countless chimneys lingered in the air, tickling my nostrils when I opened the car door and following me up the stairs to my second-floor apartment. I remember thinking that the building’s adobe facade was so charming when I moved in. After a few years, it just looked… brown. There’s a lot of brown in Santa Fe.

  I could tell the door was unlocked by the lack of resistance to my key turning in the lock. I hadn’t bothered changing the locks or asking Matt for his key when he moved out. A single gal sometimes likes to know that there’s someone out there who would a) miss her if she fell off the face of the earth and b) find her body before her cat started to eat her. I suspected Matt was holding down the couch, lying in wait for me to return so he could pump me for information.

  Though I usually enjoyed his visits, dread suddenly gnawed at my stomach. I loved Matt, but sometimes a girl just needs some downtime at the end of a long day. Granted, coming home to Matt after a long day used to be one of my favorite things. I took a breath and put on a smile before pushing open the door, a quip poised on my tongue.

  “Don’t you have a place of your own or something?”

  “There you are, birthday girl!” He beamed at me from the couch. “I was starting to wonder if Barry had knocked you out and thrown you in the trunk.”

  Mention of my birthday made me remember I was supposed to be annoyed with him. “You’re the one that ought to be worried about head trauma. You told him it was my birthday.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “He didn’t make a fuss, did he? I told him not to make a fuss. I didn’t mean to tell him. It just slipped out the other day.” He sat up a bit and pointed at the mismatched pair of Christmas-themed mugs on the coffee table. “Hey, did I mention I made cocoa? Come get some.”

  “Don’t try to distract me with gourmet drinking chocolate.” I huffed quietly, though I wasn’t really upset and he knew it. Matt makes the best cocoa, with real chocolate and everything. Cooking is his superpower. It’s one of the things that won me over back when we were dating.

  He sat back with a smirk and draped an arm along the back of the sofa. “Well, how did it go?”

  “Let me get my shoes off at least.” I unwound my scarf and peeled off the rest of my outerwear, hanging it all up on the coat rack inside the door before slipping off my “date shoes” and padding in stockinged feet over to the couch. Yeah, I was stalling, and it wasn’t just because Matt was so fun to torment.

  He waited mostly patiently, one knee bouncing. “Ok, your shoes are off. Don’t leave me in suspense! I mean, you didn’t bring him home, so I guess it could have gone better.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right, because that has ever happened with a blind date you foisted off on me.” He held out a mug to me, and I accepted it with murmured thanks, curling my fingers around it and lifting it to let the fragrant steam tickle my nose. It was nice and warm, and I wondered if a little bird named Barry had reported I was on my way home. That was one of the problems with Matt’s blind dates. I never knew where their loyalties lay.

  “There’s a first time for everything. Now, out with it!” Judging from the tone of his voice, he was one more deferment away from hitting me with a pillow. Out of deference to one of my few actually nice shirts and his culinary prowess, I decided not to push my luck and risk ending up wearing my cocoa. But I did take a small sip of it, savoring its richness and depth of flavor.

  “It was… fine,” I said eventually, which summed it up.

  “Fine? Ugh. You’re impossible.” He snatched his own cocoa from the coffee t
able and sat back against the arm of the couch, turned toward me with one leg tucked under him. “He’s cute, right? Polite. Witty. And he has a job.”

  I winced at his emphasis on the job bit. “Never going to live that down, am I?”

  “You’re the one that dated a hobo.”

  “He wasn’t a hobo! He was just… between places. You know how it is.”

  “People who are between places live at motels or crash with friends.”

  “I was his friend.”

  “You were his meal ticket.”

  I shot him a glare, and he held up a hand to gesture for peace. “Alright, what was wrong with Barry?”

  “Nothing was wrong with Barry,” I said, in what had to be at least a slightly exasperated tone. Why couldn’t we have had this conversation via text? It was so much easier to hide behind emojis. “He seems like a really nice guy.”

  Matt smiled. One of those Cheshire Cat smiles. “So… when are you seeing him again?”

  “I don’t know! We traded phone numbers. This goes two ways, you know, maybe he didn’t like me.”

  “So, you like him?” He at least tried to cover his smile with a sip of cocoa this time.

  Now I was the one that wanted to throw the pillow. How quickly the tables turn. “I didn’t… not… like him. I mean, he was hot. I’ll give you that. But looks aren’t everything.”

  “I bet you two would make gorgeous babies.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Beautiful blond blue-eyed babies…”

  “Argh!” The cocoa barely made it to the table before I pounced on him, knowing his particular weakness to tickle attacks.