by Katie May
On a raised podium in front of the risers are a handful of magic wands. Yup. We can’t really do roses—copyright and all that shit. The object in question changes depending on what supernatural species the Supernaturalette is. A few seasons ago, she was a werewolf, and as such, she handed out moon shaped erasers. I’m not gonna lie, but I have the distinct feeling we’re not working with the top brass here.
I clear my throat, and the whispers and laughs cut off abruptly as every eye turns to stare at me. I catch Kyler glancing at me too, his eyes roaming over my body appreciatively before he catches himself and smooths over his features.
“Ridley?” Kyler sidles up beside me and extends his arm. I place my hand in the crook of his elbow and allow him to lead me towards the podium. The men await with eager anticipation and bated breath. Even Lincoln—the cupid who claimed he didn’t give a damn if I chose him—is staring at me with something akin to want. Of course, I’m not stupid enough to mistake lust and want with affection and love. They can be entirely independent of each other.
Besides, one of these beautiful men is a murderer.
“Ridley, on the table you have magic wands,” Kyler says seriously, and I can’t help but snort/giggle because I’m just super mature like that. His face tightens in annoyance, but he nods towards the men. “The first man you choose has the option to go on a solo date with you. That date will be determined by our producers, do you understand?” At my nod, he steps away with a dramatic flourish. “Now, choose who won the First Impression Wand.”
Again, I can’t help but break into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of his statement. First Impression Wand? I can’t help but picture all of these men with their dicks on display covered in glitter and plastic stars. Fuck, I’m losing it, aren’t I?
“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” I say softly once I get my laughter under control, gripping the wand closest to me. It’s white with gold spiraling around the stick. Witches don’t actually use magic wands, but it’s the thought that counts.
Though I’m pretty sure Twitter is going to be cackling at all of the wand puns they can make once the show airs.
“Ren.” I turn towards the beastly giant standing a little bit away from the others, his eyes fixated on me as if it’s impossible for him to look away. He’s the biggest of the men by far with an orange beard, disheveled hair, and a ruggedly handsome face. Currently, he’s dressed in a plaid shirt hung open over a gray t-shirt and loose jeans. He sort of resembles a sexy lumberjack you would see in porn videos.
Not that I ever watch lumberjack porn.
Okay, except for that one time.
And the time after that.
And that other time…
Don’t judge me.
“Ren,” I repeat, smiling softly at the lumbering man. “Will you accept the First Impression Wand?”
I hold my breath, half afraid he’ll say no. Since I’ve met him, he has been the only constant in this entire show. He has gone out of his way to protect me and make me feel safe. I’ve only known him for a short time, but already, I feel at peace with him.
Ren nods sharply and stalks forward, taking the wand from my hand. Though he doesn’t say anything—and his face is bereft of expression—his hand lingers on mine for a long moment. That tender gesture causes goosebumps to ripple up my spine.
“I’ll be honored,” he states in his raspy, gruff voice. “You in-tree-gue, me,” he says, emphasizing the “tree” of intrigue.
Because, yeah, Ren is a man-eating tree.
And apparently, a rather cheesy one at that.
Ren steps back to join the others on the risers, and I can’t help but note the jealous glances tossed his way. Even Jace, the obnoxious rockstar gorgon, appears genuinely upset. As my eyes pore over each of the men, I spot Grant sliding in through the back door and joining the line. His eyes flicker to Ren holding the wand, and pain flashes in his rusted stare. It’s that pain that nearly breaks me. Because, despite everything he has done to me, I never wanted to break his heart.
Eight Months Earlier
Robert Simmons told me I’d be competing against Ashley Jenson—a fellow assistant at SUP.
And a gorgeous female obsessed with Grant. I’m pretty sure she had printed a photo of him from our company picnic, blown it up, and taped it to her bedroom ceiling. I don’t have any proof...yet...but I’m willing to bet there’s a hole cut into his mouth for her to tongue fuck.
“Today, you will each be sent as the lead CSI on two different cases. This is a test to see how you behave in the field...and when you come face to face with an actual dead body,” he relayed to us with a severe frown.
That’s how I find myself in the warehouse district on the other side of town, bent over a dead merman. He’s in his human form, his dyed blue hair coated in dried blood and a single bullet wound in his forehead.
The gunshot looks to be inflicted at close range. It makes me wonder if he knew the perp.
“What can you give me, Darren?” I ask, turning towards the SUP officer who had accompanied me.
“Miles Jenkins. Thirty-four. Accountant over on East Lane. Wife. Two kids. Squeaky clean record.”
I tilt his head to the side, searching for an exit wound, before dropping it gently in the puddle of blood.
Sighing, I straighten and remove my plastic gloves.
This entire thing seems fishy to me—pun unintended. Why am I having trouble believing that Miles is as straight-laced as we believe? Everyone has a dark side, a side that they wish to keep hidden.
And Miles’s? I think his caused his murder.
Chapter 3
Kyler turns solemnly towards one of the many cameras lining the perimeter of the room.
“Ridley has chosen to give her First Impression Wand to Ren. Now, she has ten wands left. Though there are no eliminations this week, the next ten she chooses will be allowed to go on a special group date with our Supernaturalette.” He turns back towards me, lips tightened into a straight line. “Ridley, please choose your men.”
“Um…” I shift awkwardly from foot to foot. “It’s really hard to pick, actually, because I feel as if I don’t know you guys very well yet. Some of you made me laugh, and some of you made me swoon. I have no idea which ten I’m going to choose.” I release a humorless laugh. “Honestly, I have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to choose just one at the very end of the season.”
Okay, here’s when things go from awkward...to stab-yourself-in-the-eye awkward. When I’m nervous, I have a tendency to babble. Like, full on verbal vomit with all the juicy chunks (ew, gross analogy).
“My best friend, Greta, said I should make a harem. Apparently, it’s all the rage these days. Is that what the kids say? Fuck, I should know, right? I’m supposed to be young and hip. I mean, I lived in the days when Hannah Montana was the shit, so maybe I am young and hip. Fuck if I know. I mean, what would I even do with a harem? I think my vagina will begin weeping and shrivel into dust. She’s a scaredy cat, my pussy. Ha. I didn’t even mean to make that pun. And am I still talking? I’m still talking, aren’t I? Oh god. Someone stop me.” I quickly bring my hands up to my face to cover my cheeks. If you’re wondering, yes, they’re on fire. I’m pretty sure I’m going to die of embarrassment. I can see my tombstone now.
Ridley Portant
Died because she’s an awkward dumbass.
Fuck my life.
“This is gold,” Kyler whispers to one of his crew members, but I don’t look up from my hands to see which one.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jace says snidely. “It’s actually kind of...cute when you babble.” When my head whips up in surprise, his face is scrunched together, as if it physically pained him to say the word “cute.” Given the fact he’s a world famous rockstar with a constant string of groupies and hookups, I imagine he never had to before.
The old me would say something stupid like, “My vagina’s cute,” but the new me remains blissfully silent. As I stare into his multicol
ored eyes, I allow a sense of calmness to settle over me like a blanket. Yeah, don’t ask me why the asshole makes me feel better about my verbal idiocy. I don’t know the answer to that question either.
“Anyway,” I draw out, taking another deep breath. Fuck, I need to get myself under control.
“The next wand goes to, um, Keller.” I nod towards the banshee who stands near the end of the line on the second row. His face is still pale, eyes gaunt, but when I call his name, he flashes me a wide smile.
“Thank you.” His silky rich baritone reverberates through my head. It conjures up images of scotch and caramel, both bitter and sweet. As a banshee, the only words he speaks out loud are predictions of death. And it’s rumored that a banshee screams when the grim reaper is present.
As I have just experienced.
I search his face to see if he remembers his scream from moments before, but I see no recollection. That isn’t entirely uncommon. A lot of times, banshees don’t remember their death predictions or that they even had one.
Keller rejoins the others after I hand him a wand, a bounce to his step that hadn’t been there prior, and I turn back towards the wands. Gripping one tightly, I whisper, “Leon.”
“Woot!!!!” The lion shifter jumps to his feet and fist pumps the air. He then breaks out into a surprisingly choreographed air guitar dance, dropping to his back and pushing himself with his heels towards me. When he’s at my feet, he blinks up at me, a gorgeous smile on his sun-kissed face. “Do you want to do the honors of breaking the guitar or should I?”
Smirking at the eccentric shifter, I nod. “Go for it.”
With a graceful backflip contradicting his large size, he grabs the invisible guitar with both hands and pantomimes smashing it over Kyler’s head. The director remains frozen, lips compressed in a sullen line and eyes twitching. Now that the “guitar” has been destroyed, Leon pretends to take to cymbals and hit them on either side of Kyler’s head.
“Come take your wand, you dork,” I say, dangling it in front of his face. He races towards me and grabs me in a bear—errr, lion—hug.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” His arms constrict as he lifts me off my feet. “I won’t let you down!”
“Except for now,” I gasp. “Can’t. Breathe.”
“Whoopsies.” With a sheepish smile, he places me back on my feet and brushes imaginary lint off my dress. “Momma always said I was a little too affectionate. Of course, she also told me I ate my twin in my womb and that the best place to hide razor blades is in my mane.”
“Oh...interesting?” Because, really, what else can I say to that? Leon’s a charming man. A strange man, but a charming man all the same. I suppose the cat’s out of the bag.
I mentally begin laughing at my own pun like a weirdo.
Before I can hand him the wand, he grabs it from my hand and holds it like he would a newborn baby. “I’m naming her Ridley Leon Junior,” he whispers conspiratorially.
“I think it’s a man,” I reply back, just as softly. “It has a stick.”
“Then Leon Ridley it is!” He turns toward the guys with a triumphant grin. “I have baby daddy rights!”
Some of the guys roll their eyes while others offer him indulgent smirks. I can’t help but notice Grant’s pained expression as he watches the proceedings with barely veiled hope.
That hope dashes when I say the next name. Or, names. “Criss and Jamie.” I turn towards the wendigo and ghost, respectively. They’re a couple who came into this competition as a package deal. I can’t choose one without the other.
Criss smiles eagerly as he accepts the wand, and Jamie offers me a solemn head nod as he accepts his as well. Jamie? He’s a tough nut to crack. I like Criss so far—at least, what I know of him. He’s smart and charming. Jamie is much quieter, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s shy...or because he hates me.
“Thank you, Rid,” Criss says sincerely. “We’re honored.”
I glance towards Jamie uncertainly, and a tiny smile plays on his lush lips. I suppose that’s as much as a confirmation I’m going to get for now.
“You’re supposed to call one man up at a time,” Kyler snipes out of the corner of his mouth.
Ignoring him, I turn back to the men. My eyes latch on Grant before I quickly look away. “Ethan,” I blurt out quickly, focusing on the awkwardly adorable vampire and one of the first men I met.
His eyes widen comically in shock as he points a finger to his chest. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” I say with a smile. “Unless there’s another Ethan…?” I mean for my words to be teasing, but Ethan’s horror-filled eyes have me quickly backpedaling. “I’m kidding! You’re the only Ethan here.”
“Oh.” The confusion on his face quickly transforms into pure joy. It makes him look significantly more handsome. Sexier, even. Of course, he ruins that image as he attempts to step down from the top riser and accidentally trips over Stephan the unicorn’s foot.
“Oh shit!” Stephan exclaims as he hurries to right the fallen—and now rumpled—vampire.
“That was...not sexy,” Ethan states matter-of-factly. Quinn, who Ethan has fallen beside, snorts.
“I see potential in you, my young protégé. Let me be your sensei.”
Have the sex-crazed incubus mentor my sweet vampire? I see nothing wrong with that at all (she says sarcastically).
Speaking of… “Quinn, you’re up too.” I hold up a second wand, and I have the pleasure of seeing shock flit across his face. Yeah, our first meeting hadn’t been stellar. He had been balls deep in a man’s ass while sucking a girl’s tits. But he has promised to take this competition seriously, and I’m determined to give him a chance.
“Thank you,” Ethan stammers, staring up at me like I hang the moon or however that saying goes. “I promise you won’t let this down. I mean, I won’t let me down. I mean, you won’t let me down. I mean, I won’t let you down.”
“I’ll like to say thank you as well,” Quinn interrupts, staring at me like I’m a new and exotic specimen. Not strange necessarily, but different. Someone worthy of his attention. “I know we didn’t get off to the best start…”
“One chance, Quinn,” I tell him seriously. “Starting now, you have one chance to prove yourself to me. I’m not just a piece of ass you can hit and discard.” Peering around his broad form, I address the room at large. “And that goes for all of you. I’m looking for something serious, something real. If you’re not ready for that or if we’re at different chapters in our lives, I won’t have any hard feelings if you walk out this door right now. I’ll be more hurt if you remain just to break my heart.” My eyes flicker to Grant, and the unspoken words are clear as day: it’s already been broken once.
Never again.
Chapter 4
Eight Months Earlier
Miles’s wife is a petite woman with prominent lines around both her eyes. Her face is puffy and red, tears hanging suspended on her lashes, as I reach across the table to take her hand in mine.
“Anything you tell us will help find the person who did this,” I say softly. I’ve already asked the standard interview questions, but I feel like there’s something she’s not telling me. Call it a hunch or a sixth sense, but every hair on my body stands on end.
“There’s, um…” She wipes at a stray tear before taking a fortifying breath. “There’s a club he used to go to. Every Friday and Saturday.”
My frown deepens. Nowhere in my records was there mention of a bar.
“Can I get a name, please?” I question, and she nods doggedly, reaching around me to grab a notepad. With shaky fingers, she scribbles an address located in an obscure part of town. I haven’t heard of this club before, but if it has answers, you can bet your ass I’ll be there. “Thank you. This has been most helpful. We’ll find—”
“Mommy!” a young girl runs around the corner and throws herself into her mother’s arms. Large eyes framed by thick lashes peer back at me.
Fuck, i
t’s so easy to forget that Miles had a family. He was a father, for Christ’s sake.
And now, he’s nothing but a carcass.
“I’ll see myself out,” I tell his widow, and she nods solemnly.
Outside, I inhale the fresh air greedily, my hands trembling by my sides. It’s so different when you’re at school studying these things versus when you’re actually in the field. You don’t think about the families and friends of the victim until you’re forced to confront his grieving wife and child.
Shaking my head once, I slide into the SUP-issued vehicle, complete with bulletproof windows, and drive back to headquarters. My mind is racing ten miles a minute, in tandem to my rapidly thudding heart.
I’ll go to this club, but I won’t be stupid. I’ll take Grant with me for backup, just in case things go sour.
I pull into my assigned parking space and take another moment to calm my ragged breathing. Emotions like these will only hinder my ability to solve Miles’s murder.
The first thing I see when I enter the bright lobby is Grant’s dark head facing away from me. I make an immediate beeline over to him only to pause, the blood draining from my face, when I notice Ashley—my competitor both for his affections and this job—smiling up at him, one hand on his bicep. Red tints my vision as he nods at whatever she says, their faces so close together that all they would have to do is lean in a few inches and they’ll be kissing. Jealousy burns a hole in my chest, eating away my heart like acid.
Before he can notice me, I turn on my heel and stalk back to my car.
Fuck Grant.
Turning my phone off, I plug the club’s address into my GPS.
This job will be mine, no matter the cost.