by E A Price
So they were sitting and chatting. Stone and Francine were wearing towels Opaline had given them, because, in her words, she certainly didn’t want to see their junk. Francine was rubbing Stone’s chest because her touch seemed to be the only thing that was keeping his beast at bay.
Opaline stubbed out an old cigarette directly on the table and lit another. “That idiot St. Fontaine sent you here to kill me, didn’t he?”
“Ah, well…”
“I knew it!” hissed Opaline, triumphantly.
“We’re not going to, though,” said Francine in a hurry. “We just wanted to find out why he wanted you to ah… not be alive anymore. He didn’t tell us anything. Although, he did say you were an old woman.” This was said in an accusing tone of voice. It was just bad manners for the woman to look like a goddess instead of an elderly woman. Her flamingo was just pleased that Stone didn’t seem to notice how beautiful Opaline was. At that moment, he was just glowering at her while absently rubbing Francine’s thigh.
Opaline flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I can change my appearance whenever I want.”
“So why does Michael want you dead? I mean, he’s a weirdo, that’s for sure. But actually ordering a hit on someone…”
“Humph. He wants me out of the way because payment is due.”
“Payment? What does…”
“Don’t you wonder why his awful films are so popular?” asked Opaline, with an arched brow. “Don’t you wonder why he wins awards? I tried to watch one of his films once and I was tempted to gouge my eyes out just to make it stop.”
“Well, they’re not the best,” said Francine, evenly. “But I figured that they were so deep that I couldn’t understand them.”
“They’re about as deep as a fridge magnet,” sneered Opaline. “Don’t you wonder how a repulsive little toad like him could get such a beautiful wife?”
Francine hesitated. He was no Stone, who had oodles of charisma, but, “He’s not that bad to look at.” She squeezed Stone’s arm as he let out a snarl.
“I meant on the inside.”
“Oh well yeah, he’s a big old mess on the inside.” No arguments there.
“Me, I did that,” Opaline told them with a prideful air usually found on people who had done something impressive like climb a mountain or win a hot dog eating contest.
Stone furrowed his brow as if he was doing long multiplication. “You made him a mess on the inside?”
“No,” hissed Opaline, “I gave him luck, I gave him success, I gave him everything he dreamed of. The perfect life, the perfect wife and now he has to pay.”
Francine leaned forward in curious suspicion. “You didn’t buy his soul, did you?”
Opaline looked at her as if she were deranged. “What on earth would I do with his soul? No, I want money – I want what’s due to me. I want to be sipping cocktails served out of coconuts on an island paradise while one of the waiters gives me a back rub.”
Stone snorted. “So let me get this straight, you gave him all this luck and success so that he would pay you? Why didn’t you just give yourself luck and success?”
She pulled out another cigarette. “We’re not allowed to in my line of work.”
“Crazy bitch is a job now?”
Opaline didn’t even react. “No, I just… I’m supposed to help the deserving and oversee their lives and…”
“Oh my god!” gushed Francine. “Are you telling us that you’re a fairy godmother?!”
Opaline winced. “I wouldn’t use that term.”
“But it’s what you are!” squealed Francine. Her bird squeaked in excitement. It was just like a fairytale… a really odd, kind of depressing fairytale.
“More like a witch with a higher purpose,” clarified Opaline through gritted teeth.
“You’re not serious?” scoffed Stone – who clearly had no sense of wonder. “There’s no such thing.”
“Try telling that to the Witches Council.”
Stone gave her a baffled look. “There’s a Witches Council? Like the Council of Supernaturals?”
She rolled her eyes. “Older than those idiots; and not one that all witches know about – only the most powerful are part of it. You get chosen when you’re a child, and you’re told what to do whether you like it or not,” she complained, pouring the bitterness onto her words with a bucket.
“I was told I had to be a…” She looked at Francine through narrowed eyes, “Witch with a higher purpose, when I was five and I didn’t get a choice. We’re not allowed to use magic for ourselves you know? We’re not even allowed to get married. We’re supposed to be like freaking nuns!”
Francine felt a pang for this woman. Strange and irritating though she may be, her life didn’t exactly sound magical. “You mean you can’t have kids?”
Opaline huffed. “That part I don’t care about, but we’re not allowed to enjoy ourselves. We have to live like penniless crones while the people we help live like royalty!” She banged a slender fist on the table, and stealthily Stone started moving Francine away from her. Those hands could do serious damage.
“Why do you help them? Why does the Witches Council want you to held them?”
Opaline shrugged. “Because Fate needs a helping hand now and then.”
“But fate is…”
“Fate is a goddess with a lot on her mind, and sometimes things get in the way, and she needs chumps like me to help get them out of the way.”
“Francine, this woman is nuts,” whispered Stone, not exactly quietly.
“Whether you believe me or not isn’t important, the point is I decided to help that moron Michael St Fontaine because it killed two birds with one stone. He was fated to kill one of my charges in a drunk-driving accident. Turning him into a success meant that never happened. And I agreed to help him because he was going to give me half of his wealth after ten years.”
Francine gave her a look of censure and her bird tut-tutted. “Really, back to the money?”
“I just wanted to enjoy life while I still can. Eighty years I’ve been doing this, and I’m lucky if I get so much as a thank you. This was going to be my retirement, but that dummy had to ruin it by getting greedy. I told him payment was due, but he wouldn’t pay up. So, his luck is now out.” Her lips quirked upwards, and she almost looked happy. “It all started with you.”
“Me?” squeaked Francine as Stone’s arms tightened even further.
“Before you, women found him attractive, even found him charismatic,” she was truly a powerful witch, “but he knew something was wrong when you stabbed him.”
“Should have stabbed him harder,” grumbled Stone.
“Then the funding fell through on his latest film. In another couple of weeks his wife will have left him, his kids won’t want to talk to him, and his dog will be dead.”
“You’re going to kill his dog?” gasped Francine as her bird whimpered. Thank god this woman hadn’t been around in Cinderella’s time – things could have turned out a lot differently.
“No, according to my sources the mutt’s just due to get run over – by Michael actually, not on purpose. Pepe just runs behind the car.”
Francine’s hands flew to her face. “That’s terrible! Oh, and so are all the other things, his marriage and whatever…”
Opaline gave them a sharp look. “Guess that’s why he sent you here, maybe he reckons that me dying will change his luck. It won’t. But he probably thought that at least he’d get to keep his millions. After he finds out you failed, no doubt he’ll send someone else. Humph, I’ll be waiting.” That was said in a similar voice to one that would say something like, ‘come into my gingerbread house, children’. In spite of herself, Francine shuddered.
Apparently she didn’t affect Stone. He actually sounded pretty disdainful. “So you’re going to sit here and wait for death?”
“They won’t be able to hurt me,” she huffed.
“Why don’t you try and stop him with some of your magic mumbo jumbo?�
�
She gave him a sour look. “I’m not allowed to use magic unless I’m influencing for good.”
“So sending me through the floor and throwing knives at feathers here…?”
“I can defend myself against hostile invaders,” she eyeballed them, daring them to challenge her on that.
Stone clicked his fingers. “We could use her as bait. Get this Fontana guy to attack her and then she fights back and hey presto, she turns him into a pumpkin or whatever.”
Francine shook her head. “It’s Fontaine, and we’re not using her as bait.”
“She was trying to kill you a few minutes ago.”
“Not kill, maim a little, maybe,” mused Opaline. “Besides, I doubt it would work. He’s a coward and he’s not that dumb; he won’t go after me physically. He knows what I can do.”
Francine nodded and against her flamingo’s wishes said, “It would make more sense if I were the bait.”
Steam almost poured out of his ears. “No! Absolutely not.”
“Just listen…”
“I said no!”
“But if you’d just…”
“No!”
“But…”
“I forbid it!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Stone gritted his teeth as his rhino rumbled in outrage. He’d said no – he clearly said no – so why did he find himself hiding behind a tree and straining to hear what was happening?
His rhino wasn’t happy – oh that much was clear – and neither was Stone. But Francine wouldn’t listen to his very clear protestations. Nor would she listen to reason. And that meddling, miserable excuse for a – hah – fairy godmother was no help. Wasn’t she supposed to help people? Not put them in certain danger.
Every muscle in his body tensed as he watched her – his pretty little flamingo
She bit her lip; her perfect teeth pressed into her beautifully plump red lip, and he sighed inwardly. The bite of a lip should not be able to do that to him. He was Stone. He looked at women, he flirted with them, and sometimes he took them home for some no-strings fun. So why did he feel his legs wobbling over something as tiny as the bite of a lip? Why did the thought of anyone other than him getting to look at that juicy lip – never mind kissing it – bother him so much?
She rubbed her hands together and stamped her feet. Stone felt his insides clench. She was cold. And no wonder – it was the middle of the night, and they were standing around in the middle of a park. Flamingos came from hot countries – they needed heat. Another reason they shouldn’t be out there. She should be at home, at his home, in his bed and his arms, resting and satisfied from his exhaustive ministrations. His rhino concurred. He needed to do everything he could to take care of her and protect her. She was his, wasn’t she? Was she? Stone sucked in a breath. The thought hadn’t come to him before, but could it really be true? He didn’t set a lot of store by the whole idea of true mates. It was up there with fairy godmothers – but maybe he needed to rethink his stance on life.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her since the moment he saw her, no, smelled her. God help him he’d even ignored his usual diet and splurged on piece after piece of chocolate peanut butter fudge cake to try and quench his need for her. It hadn’t helped. The delicious smell and deliriously wonderful taste didn’t compare to her.
He needed her. Even if he didn’t want to use the M word, it didn’t change that.
So why the hell was he allowing her to put herself in danger? He could kick himself sometimes.
*
Francine blew on her hands. This was a bad idea. She was aware of that. Her flapping flamingo knew it, and her disapproving rhinoceros knew it. She could feel his disapproving glare burning into the back of her head. She dare not turn round. He might think she wanted rescuing or something.
He would, too. He’d come charging over at the drop of a pouty look, consequences be damned. That shouldn’t make her happy, but it did.
She felt protected and cared for, in a way she hadn’t since her grandfather died. She lost her father when she was young, and she was left with a mother drowning in grief – and when flamingos felt any emotion, they made sure they hammed it up for everyone to see. But then, they weren’t alone. To move on her mother had remarried to someone more appropriate - another flamingo. And then they had two perfect daughters, and that was when Francine felt like an intruder in her home. It wasn’t intentional, and her mother would be horrified to know Francine felt that way, but it was the truth. She used to live for the weekends when she got to spend them with her bull shifter grandfather. He was so much like her dad, the little she remembered. Big, burly and a complete soft touch at heart. They’d spend hours playing games, pretending they were going on a safari or taking a mission to Mars. It was so much nicer pretending to do something exciting, rather than being at home and pretending to be happy so you didn’t hurt your mother’s feelings. It was one of the reasons she went into acting. It wasn’t an uncommon profession for flamingos – nature's show offs. But it was partly because of her grandfather.
Stone reminded her of him. Not in a creepy way. Just in the big, good-natured way. The way he was happy to see her – even after she kneed him in the crotch. The way his face lit up whenever he saw her – even after she told him she hated him. She loved that cheerful optimism.
Heat rose through her body, and her flamingo sighed in pleasure as she thought of him. She guessed there were any number of things about him that others might change, but to her, he was perfect just the way he was. Startling disapproval at the current situation and all. And even more surprisingly, he seemed to think she was something special, too. He’d called her beautiful, actually. Considering the best compliment her mother could come up with when she graduated high school was that she had really neat, shiny hair, this was not to be taken lightly.
Francine wasn’t against mating. It had just never been on her priority list. She’d lived from role to role, and nothing in her private life had ever seemed to matter. She couldn’t remember actually caring about a previous boyfriend more than she cared about her next acting role. Huh. She’d always thought that they were bad boyfriends who unjustly treated her poorly. But maybe she wasn’t exactly great to be with either.
She stamped her feet again, not wanting to delve into that part of her personality too far. It was different with Stone. When she was with him, she wasn’t running lines in her head. She wasn’t on autopilot when he talked. She didn’t have to pretend to laugh or force a smile. She actually liked spending time with him. And lord how long had it been since she could honestly say that was true of anyone? Other than Felicia, who didn’t count - at this point she was virtually a piece of furniture in Francine’s life – comfortable, reliable and something you didn’t have to fear about losing.
Her flamingo squawked in alarm, and she stiffened as she heard footsteps heading her way. Icy dread poured through her. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
Yet, she had insisted hadn’t she? She could kick herself sometimes. Although, not in these boots – with high stiletto heels and steel tips they appeared particularly deadly. But she was grateful for the clothes and shoes Opaline gave her, given that her own were destroyed by her impromptu shift. Thankfully, Opaline had also produced new clothes for Stone, for which Francine was glad because she had uneasiness in her stomach about Opaline seeing Stone naked. In fact, she had an urge to reach over and scratch the woman’s eyes out every time she even glanced in the rhino’s direction. It was an unusual and quite distressing urge for someone who up until recently had cowered away from violence. Well, mostly.
But, back to the plan. She was supposed to tell Michael that she had successfully killed Opaline – she had a lock of Opaline’s hair as requested. That had been handed over with a barely a second thought. And then she was supposed to get him to admit that he blackmailed her into killing Opaline and that the whole attempted murder thing was a sham. Then Stone and Opaline, hiding in the bushes with a spell
to distort their scents, would pop out and shout 'gotcha' or words to that effect.
Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and it kind of tailed off towards the end, but she didn’t really have a choice. Stone didn’t want her to be there and neither did she, frankly. She would much rather be in a warm bed, cuddling into a pair of strong, muscled arms. But she also needed to get out of this attempted murder charge. Otherwise, those strong, muscled arms may very well belong to her cell mate.
Michael was practically standing next to her before she noticed him in the dark. Flamingos weren’t particularly blessed when it came to any of the five senses.
She had arranged to meet him in Grimm Park. It was quiet at night, and there were plenty of places to have quiet conversations, as long as you stayed away from the mating couples. It was a hotspot for shifters to run free as their animals and copulate lustily with their mates.
“Well?” he snapped.
“It’s done,” she said in a quavering voice. She didn’t have to pretend about that – she did feel scared at that moment.
He held out his hand impatiently and she passed him the bag with the hair. He held it up to his nose and sniffed before staring at her in shock. “It’s hers.”
“Well, yes.”
“How did you get it?” he asked, shock oozing through his expression.
“I ah, well, I…” She grasped for the words, but they wouldn’t come. Why not? What the hell? She made a living out of spouting words that weren’t true. She made people believe she was someone else on a regular basis. Essentially she was a paid liar. She once played a mental patient with multiple personalities – she could pull off four personalities all vying for room in one body, but she froze about this?!