Paranormal Talent Agency Episodes 4-6

by Heather Silvio

  “Give me your phone.” I handed it to him. He entered his information. “Send me a text so I’ll have your number. We’ll go to BabyStacks for brunch, if that works for you.”

  Our eyes met and I swore something flared. Desire? This was a dangerous path I’d started down. I ignored the foreboding now flooding through me.

  “It definitely works for me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I kicked myself for arriving at BabyStacks so early. There was no traffic to speak of and I zipped along Buffalo Drive toward Desert Shores. My heart fluttered when I saw Jackson standing just inside the front door by the hostess station. I scanned the cozy restaurant décor, noting the red-brick-style flooring and natural wood and stone accents throughout. My eyes returned to Jackson. He again wore a pair of jeans and a concert t-shirt. How was he not cold? It was probably his uniform style. I smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles from my purple long-sleeved fitted shirt over leggings and boots.

  “Guess I wasn’t the only one eager for brunch,” he quipped and I chuckled. “I’ve already put my name on the list. When I saw how early I was, I figured I’d go ahead and do so. That way you wouldn’t have had to wait at all,” he explained.

  “That was very gentlemanly of you.”

  “I try.”

  We smiled at each other.

  “Jack, party of two?” The hostess broke the spell. We followed her to a two-top table next to a stone wall. Jackson pulled my chair out.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. He took the wooden chair opposite. We watched each other as the hostess placed menus in front of us. “The hostess called you Jack. Do you prefer that to Jackson?”

  A half-smile flitted on his face. “Normally I do, but I like the way you say Jackson.”

  “You do?” I asked with a flirty smile back.

  “I do.” His voice sounded huskier.

  “Okay, then. Jackson.” We stared at each other. I rubbed my lips together; his eyes followed the movement with interest. Okay, then, indeed! I opened up the menu.

  “Have you been here before?” Jackson asked.

  “I haven’t. I assume you have since you picked it.”

  “I have, but it’s been awhile. The pancakes are awesome, as you’d expect by the name.”

  “I’ll have to try some.”

  After that scintillating exchange, the conversation lulled while we perused the menu and surreptitiously checked the other out. He still had his five o’clock shadow; it worked for him, highlighting the contours of his jawline and kissable lips.

  Kissable? I inwardly rolled my eyes. Time to focus on why I asked him out. Not just because I found him sweet and insanely attractive.

  “How long have you been a cameraman?”

  “A few years. I tried acting first, believe it or not, and hated it.”

  “You hated it?”

  “Turned out I didn’t enjoy the audition process.”

  “I don’t think anybody does.”

  “True. But I also didn’t enjoy memorizing lines.”

  My brow furrowed. “Why did you want to be an actor at all then?”

  He laughed, low and sexy. “I didn’t, to be honest. A photographer told me I had the look for it and I thought it might be fun.”

  I echoed his laughter. “You definitely have the look,” I said. An instant flush crept up my neck. He quirked an eyebrow. “I’m a talent agent. It’s my job to notice.”

  He nodded, but the twinkle in his eyes told me he didn’t buy my explanation.

  “It’s too tough a business if you aren’t committed,” I added.

  “Exactly. I did, however, discover that I enjoyed watching the cameramen. So, I took some classes, did some student films, and ta da, now I’m a full-time cameraman. What about you? How long have you been a talent agent?”

  My smile fell and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. How to explain that I got my agency by signing a pact with a demon?

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said with concern, reaching to take one of my hands in his. “We’re just getting to know each other. If it’s not something you want to talk about—”

  I rolled my eyes, tried to laugh off the awkwardness. “That’s a long boring story.” I pulled my hand from his when the waitress appeared to take our order.

  His eyes stayed on me as I purposefully kept my own on the waitress. She took the order and departed. I dropped my gaze to my lap. I needed to get this conversation back on track.

  “Tell me about the others on set.”

  Jackson took my conversational redirect in stride and regaled me with his histories with various members of the crew. Slowly the conversation became loose and fun. So, of course, I realized it was time to make it weird again. I needed to remember my goal.

  “Do you know Barbara Knollman?”

  “The Councilwoman?”

  “Yes, that’s her.”

  He shrugged. “I know of her. I’ve seen her on Entertainment Daily but I’ve never met her.” He tilted his head. “Why do you ask?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Why?” He frowned slightly.

  I needed to say something but my thoughts swirled in consternation. Why would Barbara want him dead if he had never met her? Could he have done something he wasn’t aware of?

  “Why do you ask if I know the councilwoman?”

  I decided to provide part of the truth. “I sometimes do work for her,” I started vaguely. “Anyway, she mentioned you the other day.”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes, but there was an undercurrent of something unreadable. He knew more than he was saying, I’d bet money on it. “That’s why you were checking me out on set?”

  “I wasn’t checking you out,” I disagreed. He grinned. “Okay, I was checking you out. But you were checking me out, too,” I reminded him.

  He laughed. “Yes, I was. I freely admit that.”

  “Why?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Ugh. That sounded pathetic.

  Again, the inscrutable expression, though his face quickly smoothed out. “There’s something about you, Robin.”

  My jaw dropped open and I snapped it shut. This hunk of a man thought there was something about shy, unassuming me? That blew my mind.

  Not that I had low self-esteem or anything, but I understood my strengths. Physical beauty wasn’t one of them.

  I redirected the conversation back to safer ground and the rest of the breakfast passed as expected. For the life of me, I could not understand why Barbara wanted this man dead. When Jackson walked me to my car and hugged me goodbye, promising to call, I made my mind up.

  I would challenge the demon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What did you say?” Barbara Knollman’s icy tone clashed with her fiery eyes. Did I smell brimstone? I clamped down on my overactive imagination, ignored the acid burning a hole in my stomach. I lifted my chin and met her hard stare.

  “You heard me.” The calm in my voice amazed me. I willed my poker face to stay in place. “Unless you can give me a good answer to why you want Jackson McKee dead, I refuse to kill him.”

  The demon’s red eyes slowly returned to their normal obsidian. Fathomless black holes, I sometimes thought. I withstood the urge to shudder. Barbara smiled, her small, pointed teeth unnerving as always. She stood and leaned over her desk.

  “You are not in a position to refuse,” she responded, her reasonable tone belying the steel beneath.

  “Yes, I am,” I retorted. “What’s the worst you can do?”

  Barbara lifted a single eyebrow.

  My cheeks reddened. Well, yeah, she could probably damn me to hell for all eternity. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I insisted. “I’m not a killer.”

  “Now I’m confused.” She retook her seat, the fabric of her pants whispering as she crossed her legs with deliberate slowness. “Either you aren’t willing to kill him at all or you’re only willing to kill him for a good
reason. Which is it?”

  Her saccharine tone chilled me. “He doesn’t even know you,” I redirected. “None of this makes any sense.”

  Barbara sighed, startling me. “Fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Not that I owe you an explanation,” she continued. “But my visions showed me that his death is necessary.”

  “For what?”

  “For me to achieve my goal.”

  “What goal?” I couldn’t believe how belligerent and demanding I was being. Did I have a death wish this morning?

  “That is not information I plan on sharing.” Barbara stared placidly at me, waiting for my response. I considered it for a half minute, made a show of considering my options.

  “That’s not good enough.” I took a deep, steadying breath, which did not go unnoticed by the demon, who sneered.

  “It’s not?” Her tone remained light, but I didn’t buy it.

  “No. It’s not. I refuse to kill anyone. For any reason.”

  She tilted her head.

  “That wasn’t in our agreement,” I added, hoping to find an end-run around her demand.

  “Are you sure, minion?”

  I hesitated. No, I wasn’t sure. I had been in such a low place when I made the deal. I didn’t remember much about what I had signed in blood. That was bad, right?

  “I gather from your silence that you realize the folly of refusing?”

  Goosebumps rose on my arms. I opened my mouth. How much longer would I live after uttering this next phrase? “I do – and I choose to do so anyway. I refuse to kill anyone. Do what you will.”

  I felt defeated and yet free. She might smite me down, or something like that, but at least I would leave this world not a killer. I gripped the sides of the chair, feared how much it would hurt.

  “Okay,” Barbara responded with a nod. “You won’t kill him.”

  That rendered me speechless. I released my death grip and tried a small smile. “Thank you?”

  “You may leave now,” she said, her black eyes flat.

  I darted from the room, pleased, but wary. The smarter part of me understood I missed something important. I had to have.

  There was no way the demon would allow me to defy her like that.

  CHAPTER SIX

  An invitation the next day from Jackson almost distracted me from my terrified waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop feeling. Almost. He had texted with a late invite to dinner. Although he apologized for the last minute text, I understood the unpredictability of a movie shoot.

  I stood now before the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my closet door, evaluating my outfit choice. The weather was mild for December and I thought I could get away with wearing a long-sleeve shirt dress over leggings without a jacket. I kept my hair in its serviceable ponytail and skipped makeup.

  He seemed to like me for me, so I wasn’t going to mess with that. A quick check of my watch told me he would arrive soon.

  Sure enough, the doorbell chimed, and I crossed the stone floor from the bedroom through the living room. My breath caught in my throat when I opened the front door. Jackson looked yummy. My gaze traveled the length of him, from his fitted navy blue button-down shirt to his dark jeans and cowboy boots. His permanent five o’clock shadow begged to be touched. He smiled at my clear appreciation, skin crinkling around his eyes.

  “You look beautiful,” he greeted me.

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  He held his arm out, and I allowed him to lead me to his car, actually a Ford F150 truck. I must have made a noise.

  “Yeah, the truck’s big,” he said. “I like to go camping, plus it’s good for lugging camera equipment around.” He opened the door and helped me into the cab.

  I was rarely in bigger vehicles; I felt incredibly high up. The feeling triggered a giggle. Jackson glanced at me inquisitively. I shook my head.

  “Just marveling at the view from up here.”

  We drove the short bit on South Town Center Drive and turned onto West Charleston Avenue, heading for Red Rock Casino. It was a great complex off-Strip, including a movie theater and bowling alley.

  But, we were headed to 8 Noodle Bar, an Asian fusion restaurant, for dinner. Busy for a weeknight, Jackson maneuvered his behemoth toward the back of a parking lot, near a parking lot light. The dark mountains rose in the distance beyond the casino.

  Jackson hurried around the front of the truck to open my door and help me down. Our eyes locked and a thrill raced through me.

  “Are you hungry?”

  My jaw dropped at his double entendre. I failed to respond around the cotton balls in my mouth.

  He chuckled. “I meant for food.”

  “Of course.”

  “At least right now,” he teased.

  I threaded my arm through his. Before we took two steps, he tensed. I stole a glance at him, wondering what had changed. His eyes had a glassy, far-away look. He slammed to a halt, causing me to stumble. He remained silent. With small movements, he assessed our surroundings.

  Anxiety fluttered in my chest. “Jackson? What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t respond. I looked around, trying to identify the source of his concern. Nothing jumped out. Parked cars. A few people approaching the casino in the distance. Everything seemed normal.

  You know how they say, in times of stress, things move fast yet slow. Turned out that was accurate.

  I glanced up at the parking lot light illuminating us.

  A loud pop broke the silence.

  Jackson threw me to the ground, his body shielding mine.

  A dome of glowing light shimmered like a force field around us.

  Glass shards from the light fixture bounced off the air above us. The lighting unit itself followed. I uttered a choked scream and flung my hands over my head, but the unit bounced harmlessly off the shimmering light and crashed to the ground beside where we huddled.

  My brain struggled to process what happened. That falling light could have killed us, probably should have. How did we not get hit? What was that weird shimmering light surrounding us?

  Jackson shot to his feet, pulling me with him. He seemed satisfied by whatever he saw when he stared into the darkness before hurrying to the truck. He yanked open my door.

  “Get in,” he ordered, before running around to his side of the truck.

  The tires squealed when he backed up. We roared through the lot. Once on Charleston, I risked speaking. “What happened back there?” The silence stretched and I wondered if he would answer.

  “Someone tried to hurt us.”

  “That wasn’t just an accident?”

  He glanced at me, worry etched across his face. “No.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  Jackson turned the truck onto South Town Center Drive. “I felt an energy change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone caused that light to fall.”

  Acid pooled in my belly. Someone tried to kill us? Barbara’s flat smile and obsidian eyes flashed in my mind. “Who would do that?” I asked instead.

  “Someone with telekinesis.”

  “Telekinesis? You mean, someone moved the light with their mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “A witch?” I squeaked the question, unsure how he’d respond.

  He glanced at me again, expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

  “Did you keep the light from hitting us?”

  He entered the code to open my small community’s security gate. “Yes,” he answered. We watched the security arm rise.

  “Are you a witch?” Even though the overall supernatural underworld had been outed a few months ago, most supernatural beings still preferred not to announce their presence to the world.

  He kept his head straight, looking ahead and not at me. “Yes.”

  “You have telekinesis, too?”

  He startled at that
and then nodded understanding at what I was asking. “No. I have protection magic.”

  “You created a personal shield for us?”

  We pulled into my driveway and he killed the engine. He turned to face me. “Something like that,” he said with a brief smile. “We need to get into the house and off the street.”

  We exited the vehicle and hastened up the walkway to enter my single-story stucco home. Once I locked the door behind us, my racing heart rate calmed to closer to normal.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  Jackson released a breath I hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah. That would be great.”

  I indicated he could sit on the chocolate-brown loveseat in my small living room and stepped into the kitchen opposite. “Wine okay? I have both white and red.”

  “Red would be great.”

  I poured us each a glass of Merlot. I could hear Jackson moving around. He was at the bay window overlooking the street when I returned to the living room. I paused, shaken at the sight of him standing off to the side, peering through the blinds, guessing from the movies he was trying to make himself a smaller target. A lump formed in my throat. This was all my fault.

  “Here’s the wine,” I announced and set the glasses down on the coffee table in front of the loveseat. Jackson glanced at me before returning to stare out the window. His body tensed when I approached him, which confused me. I hesitantly touched his shoulder. “Hey. Come sit down.”

  He didn’t respond, so I reached to take his hand in mine. “Let’s talk about what happened.” He nodded and I led him to the loveseat.

  We both grabbed our wine like it was water in a desert and took large gulps. Jackson met my eyes. “What do you think happened?”

  The demon tried to kill you? “I’m not sure,” I hedged. “What do you think happened? How did you know that light was going to fall?”

  “Part of my ability comes with an increased sensitivity to the use of magic around me. Right after we started walking, I picked up an energy source.”

  “What kind of energy source?”