Something Wicked

by Sterling, Jillian

  "So what do you want to eat? Wings? Nachos? Fries?" Danny asked, eyeing his own menu.

  "Fries, definitely," Amanda chimed in.

  "Burgers are good," I added. If Richie Rich was paying, I wanted something substantial. Too bad steak wasn't on the menu.

  "Cool," he looked around for a waitress.

  "Better to just put in the order with the bartender," Amanda offered. "They seem short staffed tonight."

  He nodded at Rick and they both got up and headed to place our order at the bar.

  "What is going on?" Amanda hissed. "You think this is going to get you out of owing that money?"

  "No, of course not," I said. "But he's being nice."

  "For a loan shark!"

  "Well, what can I say, he's buying me dinner," I tried to keep my voice low.

  "Is that all it takes?"

  "He just...well, he actually seems nice. I think he feels bad about what happened."

  "This is like one step away from prostitution, you know."

  "Oh my god, Amanda! I'm not doing this because I think he'll drop the loan if I sleep with him!" I lowered my voice more. "Do you think he would?"

  She crossed her arms and sat back in the booth. "Is your pussy worth 25 grand?"

  I felt the heat creep up to my face. "Amanda!"

  She grinned. "Well, is it?"

  I snorted. "Probably not."

  "You like him?"

  "Not really. I mean, he's a giant tool when I see him at the frat house. But away from there, he seems nice, funny. Kind of charming. Even this afternoon, I think he almost felt bad telling me about the loan."

  "Well, we've established that he's easy on the eyes," she gave in. "Just tread carefully, okay?"

  I nodded. "Of course."

  The lights dimmed and the music volume pumped up. It was late enough that Huskie's transitioned from bar/restaurant to dance club.

  Amanda grinned. "The DJ doesn't suck!"

  "You know what that means?" I asked. She shook her head. "We may have to dance!"

  Amanda recoiled. "Oh hell no, Izzy!"

  "Izzy?" Danny asked, returning from ordering. He and Rick brought more beers with them. "Is that what your friends call you?

  I nodded. "Yes, my friends call me Izzy. Or Iz."

  "Can I call you Izzy?"

  "I guess," I replied.

  "So, then we're friends?" He asked, his grin sliding back into place.

  "Tonight we're friends," I said, my red light caution flags were waving a little. I mean, Amanda was right. I owe this guy's family—and by extension, this guy—a hell of a lot of money.

  "I'll take that. For now."

  The four of us made small talk while we waited for our burgers to come out. We found out Danny and Rick were going to start the professional MBA program this semester, which explained why Danny was still bunking at the frat house. When the burgers and fries finally arrived, we stuffed ourselves. The guys bought a few more rounds.

  While Huskie's transitioned from restaurant to nightclub, the place filled up. Just as I polished off the last of my fries, Tara walked in with her entourage of sorority sisters. Her eyes opened wide when she saw me, and she sauntered over to our table.

  "What's up, Danny? Rick? You boys slumming tonight?" she asked. "At Huskies, I mean."

  I guess the faux smile she pasted on was supposed to take the sting off the insult.

  "Hey, Tara. Looking good tonight!" Danny complemented her. I noted he ignored her slumming comment.

  She beamed. "I always look my best when I am out with my girls. I guess you didn't have time to change after cleaning toilets, huh Iz?"

  I focused on my beer, while Tara, Danny and Greg made small talk. Amanda's attention was on Melinda, who was leaning over Greg to whisper in her ear.

  "Say, Iz," Tara said, her voice dripped with scorn. "Shouldn't you be working on something?"

  I gulped down the fry in my mouth. "This morning. I did some work this morning."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Really?

  "Any changes?" I asked, whatever hope I had left faded at her scowl.

  She shook her head and motioned to the bar. I excused myself from the table. Danny got up to let me out, and the bare skin of my legs once again ripped along the vinyl booth. I made a mental note to wear long pants next time. He smiled as I squeezed past him, the front of my body brushing up against his. But there was no spark of electricity as we touched, and my mind flashed quickly to my morning fantasy of Finn in Diana's Pool.

  Tara gripped my elbow and barreled through the crowd to the ladies room. She shoved me inside and shut the door behind her. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of beer and pee, and noticed that my Converse stuck to the floor. My hands itched to clean the place.

  With the door closed, the sound of the music muted. Tara leaned against the door.

  "So?" I asked, biting my lower lip. "What happened?"

  "What happened?" Tara repeated, opening her eyes wider. "What happened was nothing. Nothing happened. Nada zilch."

  "But the new spell," I stammered. "I tried a new spell this morning."

  "Your new spell is clearly as shitty as your old spell."

  My body went cold. "That's not possible..."

  Tara moved closer, getting right in my face. "I don't exist to him. I just saw him, and he barely looked at me!"

  I tried to shrink back but I was trapped between her and the door. "Maybe he's just...shy?"

  She poked at my chest. "Try harder, little witch. Try. Harder."

  She shoved me aside and walked out the door. I leaned against the bathroom sink, my body shaking with I don't know what. Fear? No, it wasn't fear. I glanced at myself in the mirror, and when I caught sight of my expression I realized that it was rage. Rage.

  It was also beer.

  I swung the bathroom door open and marched back into the bar. The music was pounding, the beat was solid. I cracked my knuckles as I walked—no, make that strutted—to the table. Tonight I would prove that bitch wrong once and for all. Tara was going to fall in love, dammit, if it was the last thing I did. Clearly the solo work wasn't strong enough. The book said it wasn't the best way to work spells. It was time for a partner.

  With a laser focus on Danny, I sidled up to the booth, took the beer from his hands, and drained it.

  "Dance with me," I said, slamming the plastic cup down on the table so it crumbled. The dregs of the beer splashed all over my arm. Without losing eye contact with him, I licked the beer off my forearm. His eyes widened for a minute and then he jumped up and lead me to the dance floor.

  We started grooving to some electronica, and he yelled over the music. "So, about earlier today. I just want to apologize."

  "For what?" I asked, swaying to the song. "You were just doing your job. I get it."

  He looked relieved. "Yeah, but I guess you already had some big debts to pay down. I just feel bad about dropping something else in your lap."

  I shrugged. "It's what it is. Grams left me my childhood home, and a whole lot of IOUs. I'm still trying to sort it all."

  "Was she putting you through school?" he asked. I looked at him, puzzled. "I mean, the debt. Was that paying for school?"

  "School? No, I clean frat houses, that's how I am paying my way through school."

  It took about five seconds for his face to drop. "Oh wow. Izzy. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

  I nodded, still swaying to the music.

  "I'm sorry," he continued. "I just...I treated you like crap. And I'm sorry."

  "No," I corrected him. "You just never treated me like I was human."

  He looked like he was about to argue but then he stopped. "Fair enough. Going forward, that will change."

  I shrugged. "I am more than okay with you ignoring me. No big deal."

  "There's no way I could ignore you," he said, grabbing my hand. "So if not college, was your grandmother sick? Did you have to pay down medical bills or something?"

  "Grams wasn't sick," I said, the alcohol fue
ling my honesty. "She used that money to look for my mother. Grams died from a broken heart when she couldn't find her."

  "Oh," he said, his expression changing.

  "Don't do that," I ordered.

  "Do what?" he asked.

  "You're giving me the pity look. I hate the pity look," I said. "My mom ran out on me when I was young to join a cult. Grams never got over it. I did."

  "I'm sorry about the pity look," he said, kissing my hand. "How about I undress you with my eyes instead?"

  He winked. That got a laugh of me.

  It takes a certain sort of DJ to segue from pure bass pumping electronica to Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lot of Love." Fueled by beer and sheer determination, I embraced my inner seductress and attempted to sexy-dance with my budding paramour. He placed one hand confidently on my hip and guided me closer, our pelvis's edging together with the song's rhythm.

  Dipping his head towards me, his lips brushed softly against my ear as he whispered, "This is nice."

  I smiled brightly at him, wishing I brought a beer with me. Nice. Yes, I suppose it was nice. For a guy who was stealing my house out from under me, he was terribly nice. My tummy was full, I had a good buzz going. Between the beer and dancing to the throbbing beat of the Zep, my inhibitions dropped close to zero.

  But there were no sparks.

  Tara stood at the edge of the dance floor, glaring at me, her presence an impossibly blonde reminder of the purpose of my flirtation. Time to buck up and forget about sparks. I closed my eyes, drawing a little closer to him. His other hand slid around my neck and he ran his fingers gently along my scalp. I sighed at the feel of soft pressure against the base of my skull. Sparks or not, that felt really good.

  "Nice move, Just Danny," I leaned in and whispered in his ear, letting my lips linger for a minute around his ear.

  I pulled my head back, and he gazed intently into my eyes. Time stopped, suspending us in that moment just before lips touch for the first time. With my mind slowing down, I refocused my energy. At my will, my magic flowed, swirling through my body and filling me up with pure power. I never felt it do this before.

  Encouraged, I focused on Tara and her love spell, willing her heart's desire to open his heart to her. The spell filled me, rooting itself in my pelvis. I caught my breath and tumbled forward slightly when I felt heat build at the delta between my legs.

  "Wow, Izzy, your eyes," Danny said, using my fumble as an excuse to pull me closer. "They're glowing."

  He snaked his arms around me, and my breasts pressed into his body. His chest wasn't terribly broad, and for a split second, I wondered if he weighed less then me. Not sure how I felt about that.

  "Focus!" I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to forget about our weight class and get back into the spell. I needed a partner for this, and he seemed willing.

  His hand fumbled around my waist, finally sliding underneath my tank top, resting tentatively along my ribcage. He dropped his other hand from my waist to my ass, giving it a rough squeeze.

  Stirring the spell in my head, I tried melt into him, to let the spell take over. But his grip was so tight on my butt that it could leave a handprint, and I felt my magic slipping away from me. My back stiffened and I pressed my hands against his chest trying to push him away, but that only turned him into a bigger Grabby McGrabberson.

  I considered stomping my heel down on his foot. That would get him to stop. Just as I was about to lift my leg, a firm hand landed on my shoulder and wedged the two of us apart.

  "I said, get the fuck off of Isadora," a familiar voice boomed over the music. Before I could look up to see my liberator, a fist whizzed past my cheek and connected with Danny's nose. Danny jerked back, falling into a crowd of drunk dancing co-eds behind us, then sprawled on the floor.

  Only when the heroic pugilist grabbed my arm did I finally get a look at him.

  "Finn!" I gasped, attempting to wrench my arm out of his hand.

  "Outside!" he barked at me, dragging me towards the door.

  "Don't manhandle me!" I shot back at him, still trying to get my arm out of his iron grip.

  We stumbled through the door and into the cool late summer night. He finally released his grip.

  I rubbed at my arm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Are you telling me you wanted that asshole pawing at you?"

  "No," I said. "But I had it under control."

  "Didn't look that way to me," he insisted.

  I scowled. He was right. "Well, you didn't have to grab my arm like that. I didn't do anything wrong."

  "No, you didn't," Finn said, his face softening. "And I'm sorry. I was just worked up."

  "I can see that," I said, my beer buzz wearing off very quickly. "I'm sorry too. I just, I don't know. Got in over my head. So thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  We stood there kind of awkwardly for a second, looking at each other.

  Amanda stumbled out of the door. "Finn! What the fuck? I mean, good job. But what the fuck?"

  "Go home, Amanda," Finn said, still staring at me. "I'll take Izzy."

  "Why don't we ask Izzy how she feels about this?" Amanda said, then adding, "Fucking guys. Think they can talk for a woman."

  "No, it's cool, Amanda," I said. "Finn and I have some shit to talk about anyway."

  "If it's house business..." Amanda started, but Finn interrupted her.

  "It's about money, and that lousy loan hanging over her head," he said.

  My mouth dropped open.

  Amanda shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll see you guys later then."

  I watched Amanda walk to her car. When she was out of earshot, I turned to face Finn. "I never told you about that loan."

  Finn just nodded. "I know."

  "Then how did you know about it?"

  "We'll get to that," he said, cracking a disarming smile before walking in the direction of the parking lot. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

  I stumbled after him, dropping my eyes from his broad shoulders to his perfect ass. Without thinking, I reached out. I wanted to touch it.

  Except before I could actually grip his spectacular rear end, I tripped. And there was nothing but a pile of broken beer bottles to cushion my crash to the pavement.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Finn

  Rage.

  When he saw that douche bag Danny Stevenson with his hands all over Izzy, his rage was so strong that it soaked everything in his line of vision in a reddish hue.

  Finn was off the clock and came in to find Izzy. He was ready to lay it all out for her. Why he was at Diana's Pool, what the spell book meant, how he could help. How he wanted to help. It was time. She needed it. He definitely needed it. There was no way his cock could take any more psychic teasing.

  That love spell was a bust, and Izzy needed the power of a physical connection to force that spell to work. It wasn't as dire as she though. The free will thing was a bit of a pain in the ass, but there were ways around it, if she focused the energy and did it with the right person. She needed a powerful, experienced witch to work with. Finn fit the bill perfectly.

  Fucking that idiot Danny would not get her the desired outcome.

  But there she was, gyrating her hips into him on the dance floor. Until he got a little too handsy and she realized maybe it wasn't such a great idea. Then, he wouldn't take no for an answer.

  There was no question—Finn intervened, and cold cocked that asshole across the bar for good measure.

  Now he was outside with an intoxicated, and pissed off, Izzy. Not how he wanted the night to go.

  He heard her stumbling behind him as he stalked across the parking lot to get to his car. Based on the unsteady footfalls coming behind him, she was more wrecked than she originally let on.

  "Great," he muttered to himself. How could he lay the whole magic thing on her while she was this loaded? He ran the risk of her not believing him. Or worse. What if she did believe him, but didn't want to do this with him.

  No
way. He shook his head, remembering her fantasy at Diana's Pool. Maybe it was unfair of him to hijack her psyche like that, but the minute she tried a spell out of his book, they were sexually linked. Because of this, the minute she slipped into fantasy, he felt it deep inside of him. He had to have a look. After having psychic sex with her, his body ached for the real thing.

  Instead, he'd probably spend the night holding her hair back while she threw up cheap beer.

  He stopped when he heard the shout of "ow" behind him.

  "Everything okay, Iz?" he called to her without looking back.

  "Not really," she responded. "I think I fell on glass."

  He turned slowly and saw her sitting on the ground under a streetlight examining her knee. Blood was running down the front of her calf.

  "Shit, Izzy," Finn grumbled, heading back towards her. He squatted down beside her and began angling her knee to see it in the light.

  "Ow!" Izzy giggled, jerking her leg around.

  "Ow? I barely touched you!"

  "I thought it about it though," she giggled.

  "And that's what hurt?" he sighed.

  She giggled harder, throwing herself off balance. She gripped the top of his head to stay upright.

  "You're drunk, Iz. And it's not helping the bleeding."

  She looked at her knee in horror. "Oh shit, I'm bleeding?"

  "Yes, you're bleeding."

  "Oh my Goddess, Finn. Finn! I'm bleeding!" The panic in her voice subsided. "Wait, you're not a vampire, are you?"

  He chuckled at that one. "No, I am not a vampire. I promise."

  "Too bad," she pouted. "I think vampires are sexy."

  "You watch too many movies," Finn replied roughly.

  "I think you're kind of sexy. When you're not being an asshole," she hiccupped.

  "And with that, we should get you to the ER," Finn began to get up off the ground.

  Izzy grabbed Finn by the front of his shirt and yanked him back down. "Why? We're doing okay right here!"

  Finn rubbed his forehead. "Iz, the cut looks deep, let's get you cleaned up, sewn up, and plied with antibiotics."

  "Who will take care of me though?" Izzy pouted. Finn burst out laughing. "What's so funny?"