Paranormal Talent Agency Episodes 4-6

by Heather Silvio

  “Here, here,” the group chanted, everyone lifting their water in unison.

  “To Robin living her full life again,” Mia toasted.

  “To Robin,” they repeated.

  “Yeah, I have to say,” Evie chimed in. “You looked washed out before. You look so much better now.”

  “Evie!” Mia chastised her.

  “No, it’s okay,” I assured them. “I understand. I didn’t realize it was happening at the time, but being tethered to the demon was sucking out my life force.” That statement piqued Alex’s interest. “Not quite the way an incubus does, Alex,” I explained. “Just a slow steady drain. Fatigue. Lack of joy. But I didn’t really notice, believe it or not. I thought I was sad because I’d decided to work with a demon.”

  “Choices have consequences,” Evie quipped.

  I nodded. “I know. I just never made the connection. I became paranoid. Didn’t want to be around anyone. Didn’t want anybody in my life. It became all about Barbara. Until I met—” I bit off Jackson’s name. “—all of you. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Catherine responded. “It’s great to see how your eyes sparkle and your skin glows now.”

  “I feel like I’ve rediscovered who I am, even apart from simply not being a demon’s minion.”

  Catherine tilted her head. Dang, I’d bet her magical abilities identified that as an incomplete truth. But I didn’t want to talk about Jackson. Tonight’s dinner was focused on celebrating our victories.

  I lifted my water again. “To reaching Day 7 of Barbara’s Killer Countdown with nobody being killed.”

  “To reaching Day 7,” they repeated, spilling water with their vigorous bumping of glasses.

  “To Robin getting her magic back,” Catherine toasted.

  “To Robin breaking the contract with the demon,” Mia added.

  “And to you guys. Without your help—” I set my glass down, swallowed past the lump in my throat, ignored the burning tears in my eyes. “Without your help, none of this would have been possible. I can never thank you enough.”

  Catherine hugged me tightly. “Don’t give up on him,” she whispered. She didn’t explain her comment. Of course, I knew who she meant.

  Jackson.

  I pulled out my phone and texted him.

  Sorry for the last minute invite. Wanna swing by the café on Main Street to celebrate with us?

  I placed the cellphone on the vinyl beside me. “What’s next for you guys?” I asked the group. I half-listened to their answers, waiting for the vibration of Jackson’s reply.

  There!

  “Excuse me,” I told them before picking the phone. They exchanged knowing glances. My super-secret spy skills were clearly sub-par.

  Working another hour or so. After?

  How about my place?

  It’s a date.

  It was a date?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  An hour later I didn’t move when the doorbell rang. I knew it was Jackson, since I invited him, but I didn’t know what I was going to say. So, of course, I went with awkward.

  “You’re here.”

  “Like an unexpected sequel.” He leaned toward me, hands braced on either side of the doorway. “May I come in?”

  I pretended to consider his request. “Sequels are usually disappointing.”

  He gripped his chest in mock pain. “What about The Godfather Part II?”

  “Ooh, a classic.” We grinned at each other. I moved from the doorway. “In that case, come on in. Besides, I invited you, didn’t I?”

  Jackson gave an exaggerated bow and stepped through my doorway. I giggled at the theatrics. A meow stopped me from closing the door. I peered past Jackson into the dark and my eyes widened when a flash of fur ran by me into the house.

  “Hey!” I turned to follow the animal, but it hadn’t gone far, sitting only a few feet inside the door.

  “Did you adopt a cat?” Jackson asked.

  “No,” I answered, but my eyes were glued to the cat sitting before me, whiskers twitching. “Patches,” I whispered. “It can’t be.”

  “Patches? Wasn’t that your cat who—”

  “Ran off almost ten years ago,” I said. “How is this possible?”

  My mind flooded with images from my life, from the moment of the accident to this moment right now. I watched the cat; she almost seemed to be nodding. Could she be seeing these images too?

  “She’s your familiar,” Jackson said into my ear.

  “My what? Oh, my.”

  “Meow,” the cat said again.

  I crouched down and the cat padded over. We head-butted, unshed tears blurring my vision. “Are you my familiar?”

  “Meow.”

  New images flooded my mind, and they seemed to be coming from… the cat. I watched the last ten years of her life flash by like a movie in my mind. When it finished, I rose and faced Jackson.

  “And?”

  I chuckled. “After the accident and I disavowed my abilities, she was… temporarily reassigned, I guess. To another teenaged witch who needed a familiar.” I bit my lower lip and met Jackson’s eyes. “This other witch was fated to die,” I said. “And then Patches came back to me when I’d rediscovered my abilities.”

  “Wow.”

  “That’s an understatement,” I agreed. “Welcome home, Patches.” At her name, my little black, white, and orange furball strolled to the couch, stretched out her front legs, and then jumped up. She settled herself in and began bathing. With a shake of my head, I turned back to Jackson.

  “I’m going to need a minute to adjust to that.” I stepped toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Sure, I’ll take a glass of red wine. Whatever you have is fine.”

  “Long day of filming?” I asked from the kitchen.

  “Not too bad.”

  I handed him a wineglass and sat beside him on the loveseat. Patches’ quiet purring created background noise. Jackson and I simultaneously sipped our wine. Was he nervous, too?

  “How have you been?”

  “Since yesterday?” I asked with a grin.

  “Your life is full of adventure.”

  My smile slipped. “Yeah, a little too much.”

  Jackson set his wineglass on the coffee table. “I sense this is a more serious meeting than I thought from your text.”

  I traced the edge of my wineglass with my finger before setting it down next to his. “I like you. I liked you from the first moment I saw you.” I held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “It started out as attraction—” I flushed at his wolfish grin. “—but then you stepped up, supporting me, helping me reclaim my life. Plus, you’re smart, funny…” I shook my head and his grin faded. “But I don’t know if it’s real.”

  He gave me his inscrutable look that I’d already come to recognize as his deep-thinking face. “Why would you doubt if it’s real?”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “I thought there was something there… Until you explained about your protection magic drawing you to me. I’m telling you this because I’m trying to start my reclaimed life on the right foot. With total honesty. I don’t want you to feel obligated to—” He put his finger up to my lips.

  In shock, I stopped talking. Was he shushing me? Was I making him that uncomfortable? Although, the gleam in his eye confused me. This whole honesty thing was a challenge!

  Jackson took my hands in his, rubbing his thumbs along the pads of my palms. “Robin. You’re correct that my protection magic drew me to you. But it was never just about protection. I was attracted to you from the first moment I saw you, too.”

  “Even with the demon energy diminishing me?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He chuckled. “I’ll admit, I wondered if you had recently been ill, the first time I saw you. Even still, there was a spark.”

  “My magic?”

  He lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. “Mayb
e. I don’t know. That spark drew me in. And yes, my magic told me you needed protecting. Then…” He paused and leaned in closer, his breath warm again my cheek. “These past few days I saw the real you, hidden beneath the demon influence and self-doubt.”

  “In only a few days?”

  “Didn’t you just say you felt the same way after a few days?”

  “Your logic is infallible,” I agreed, voice husky and breathy.

  “Thank you. I am drawn to you in every way that a man can be to a woman. Protection magic or not.”

  “Me too,” I whispered. I felt the now-familiar tingle as magic raced along my arms to my fingers. Tiny sparks showered us as we embraced and I ran my hand over his buzz cut hair. Jackson pulled back and the sparks extinguished. His eyes were wide.

  “Where are you getting the energy? Is a storm coming?”

  “Oh yes, there is,” I purred and leaned into him again. His lips met mine, gentle pressure sending non-magical energy through my body. His arms tightened around me and we enjoyed the moment. We separated with a sigh.

  “I discovered I could pull energy from just a simple household outlet,” I informed him with a Cheshire-cat grin. He laughed low and sexy and we embraced again, enjoying our happily-for-right-now that just might become our happily-ever-after.

  EPILOGUE

  “Robin Landon, fancy meeting you here.” The iron voice brought me to a dead stop, and I turned to find myself staring into Barbara’s unblinking obsidian eyes.

  “Hi, Barbara,” I stammered out. “Not too surprising, since we’re both members of the Chamber.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at my tone. “I see you’ve also found your backbone.”

  I reflexively stood up straighter and Barbara chuckled. “Yes, I have,” I said in a low, but clear voice. I might have found my backbone since breaking the pact; I still didn’t want to make unnecessary waves by drawing attention.

  “I’m glad,” Barbara said.

  “You are?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t hold a grudge.”

  I belly laughed and then clapped hands over my mouth. “Maybe not, but you ordered Jackson’s death. You ordered my death!” Her eyes bored into my skull at my exhalation and I waited to be pulled down to Hell, before remembering she said all was forgiven. Maybe she didn’t hold grudges? Demons were confusing when they didn’t stay heartless and deadly.

  “That might have been a mistake,” she said.

  “What?” I surely misheard that.

  “That might have been a mistake, ordering your deaths,” she repeated and expanded.

  “You’re a demon. A killer,” I insisted.

  “I’ve never actually killed anyone,” Barbara said archly. “Directly or indirectly.”

  “Now why do I find that hard to believe?”

  “Because you don’t like me.” Her smile revealed rows of tiny, sharp teeth. “Because you were my minion for years.”

  “That’s true.” I hesitated. Oh, why not? “What will you do now?”

  Barbara’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why do you care?”

  I shrugged. “Natural curiosity, I suppose.”

  She opened and closed her mouth. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everything had been going according to plan, as I saw in my premonitions. But, this series of events was unseen. And I don’t know what that means.” She bit her lower lip, a strangely human action that threw me for a moment.

  “I hope you figure it out. Maybe you don’t have to let your—” I coughed. “—demon status determine your actions.”

  Barbara chuckled. “You mean, I can choose to be good.”

  Despite her sarcastic response, I thought I heard an undercurrent of genuine uncertainty. “Yes. You can choose a different path.” Did demons have free will like that? I had no idea.

  Barbara’s eyes flashed red for a moment and the blood chilled in my veins. Had I gone too far? They returned to their normal obsidian, and I breathed a sigh of relief into the uncomfortable silence.

  “Maybe I will.” Barbara sighed. “Maybe I will.”

  Read the continuing story of Barbara Knollman, repentant demon, in Episode Five of the

  Paranormal Talent Agency!

  Episode Five

  Jumping the Shark

  CHAPTER ONE

  Humanity drove me bananas; how hard was it to do what a demon wanted? I glanced at the humans surrounding me. They seemed so excited to support my bid for Mayor, after my years representing them on the city council. Of course, they didn’t know I was a demon.

  Tonight was a big night for all of us – the final debate before the primary elections in only one week. I was hanging out with my campaign volunteers to show my thanks for their support, but the metal folding chairs in campaign headquarters were uncomfortable. Who ordered these wretched things?

  “Barbara, we’ll be getting on the bus in about an hour. Need to leave in thirty minutes.”

  The voice interrupted my pointless wandering thoughts and I focused on the young woman standing before me, brown eyes wide behind bright red glasses. “Thank you, Lynn.” I stood and stretched my arms to the side. Taking the form of a middle-aged human somehow brought aches and pains with it. Not cool. “I’ll be in my office. Please come get me when it’s time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lynn Fox, my campaign manager, walked away and I watched her confer with two volunteers. I smiled at the volunteers I passed on my way to my office, and closed the door firmly behind me. And sighed. I understood why they wanted the candidates to arrive together; it made for a better visual. On the other hand, that meant extra travel time to meet the bus.

  Unlike in campaigns past, this debate had importance. There were four challengers for the position. I normally wouldn’t care, except that, for the supernatural, the head of the city council is also usually the ruler of the underworld. I’d been the unofficial head of the city council because the current mayor was a human, and an idiot. But he was stepping down. I couldn’t risk a supernatural taking his place who might not want to recognize the existing power structure. I wasn’t planning on giving up my status as Ruler of the Supernatural Underworld.

  One of the challengers was a popular local actor, Jeffrey Jenkins. He’d been getting a lot of press lately. That made me nervous, though I still expected to be victorious. It was my destiny. I sighed again. I needed to do well in the debate tonight to solidify my position. Polls showed the two of us running neck and neck, with a fellow supernatural a close third. He was an interesting one, Mark Mammon. Though I hadn’t met him yet.

  A mist swirled before me and I braced myself. The mist existed only in my mind, and signaled an impending premonition. I closed my eyes and waited. My mind’s eye showed me the bus for the debate tonight. Hmm. As future me walked toward the bus, movement became tortured. I trudged forward, fighting against the feeling of walking through molasses, knowing I needed to get on that bus. It became too difficult. Future me stopped fighting and froze, a weight lifted. I watched the bus doors close and the bus drive away. Part of me felt like I should call after it; I couldn’t not get on the bus. I needed to be at the debate. But, future me felt relieved.

  Present me snapped her eyes open in the office. The premonition was over. Now to figure out what it meant. I tapped my fingers on the plastic folding table before me. This could be tricky.

  Everything had fallen apart in the past three months. After literally hundreds of years of accurate premonitions, things had become wonky. Only a few months ago, even my minion had been able to break her pact with me. I narrowed my eyes at the thought of Robin Landon’s cheekiness. My premonitions hadn’t breathed a word of that betrayal. More importantly, I’d had a premonition that a witch, Jackson McKee – Robin’s new boyfriend (hard eye roll at that thought) – was involved in a loss of my power, but I’d been unsuccessful in eliminating him. As I admitted to Robin in our last encounter, my precognition was on the fritz. What other explanation could there be fo
r these outcomes?

  Thus, my current dilemma. My premonition suggested I shouldn’t get on the bus. Could that be the wrong interpretation? Or maybe the premonition was wrong entirely. I ground my teeth together. A soft knock on the door drew my attention. Lynn poked her head in.

  “It’s time, Ms. Knollman.”

  I frowned and did not stand.

  “Sorry. Barbara.” When I still didn’t respond, Lynn matched my frown. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. I won’t be taking the debate bus,” I declared, decision made.

  Her mouth dropped open for a moment before she recovered. “I’ll inform the coordinator.” She closed the door. At least she knew better than to question me.

  Now to see what happened.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A ding signaled an incoming text message. 702 area code, but not a number I knew. I lifted a single eyebrow at the message on the phone’s screen.

  Hi Barbara. This is Mark. You didn’t get on the bus.

  Curious. No.

  Turn on the news.

  “Lynn, turn the television to Channel 5,” I instructed my campaign manager. We were in a limo heading to the debate, which was set to start in twenty minutes. The television clicked on and Lynn scrolled. Elizabeth Addison’s sorrowful face filled the small screen on the back of the car seat.

  “I’m at the scene of a horrific accident,” the newscaster said. “About fifteen minutes ago, the bus carrying the mayoral candidates to their final debate crashed. Details remain hazy, but it appears there were no survivors.”

  Lynn gasped.

  I listened for the approximate location of the crash, muted the broadcast, and lowered the divider between us and the driver.

  “There’s been an accident involving the debate bus. Please head toward DI and Las Vegas Boulevard. Get as close to the accident as you can.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I raised the divider and unmuted the broadcast. Elizabeth stood a block from the accident. Flashing lights illuminated much of what was behind her. A bus lay on its side, front crumpled like a soda can.