Outfoxing Mysta

by Selena Illyria

  Silence. Fury filled every line of Francine’s face. Her body shook with rage, but to her credit she didn’t get up or lash out physically or shift.

  Sera rose, smoothed her shirt and skirt down, chin held high, gaze on her mother, ready to leave, but Mysta didn’t move. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, but if we are to survive, if Vivi and I are to survive and be happy, this needs to be done.”

  “I never wanted you, and I never wanted to marry your father,” Francine hissed. “I wanted a son, and I wanted someone else. But I made do. You and your ungrateful half-breed of a sister will pay the price once I’m out of power. Once I’m gone there will be no one to protect you. No one will care. Your demons, your witch, your pets—none of them will stand by you.”

  Mysta cleared her throat. “Actually that’s where you’re wrong. But then I don’t expect you to listen to a pet. Good luck, Francie. You’ll need it. Come on.”

  Mysta led her friend out of the house. Sera didn’t protest. Exhaustion showed clear on her face. Once outside Mysta took in a deep lungful of air. She grabbed Sera’s hand and walked her down to the end of the pathway where she stopped.

  “Thanks,” Sera whispered. Now she shook. Fear covered her face.

  Mysta reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “Do you know how long I’ve been dying to call her Francie? I should be thanking you. Now let’s go. I need a shower from being in that house, and you need your men, am I right?”

  “I do need Carver and Thorn but after work. I need to finish up at the office.” Sera turned and gave Mysta a gentle hug. She pulled away from her before Mysta could protest that it had gone on too long. “Thanks again.”

  Mysta and Sera started walking back toward Main Street and back to work. They traveled in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Mysta didn’t want to push Sera into talking. Sometimes support was a better choice than trying to get a person to open up during a tense situation.

  They arrived at the office to find smoke billowing out of the open front door. Lana and Bridget stood out front, waving away the dark gray plumes and coughing.

  Mysta and Sera rushed up to them. “What the hell happened?” Mysta demanded.

  “Used too much eye of newt. Or maybe my batch had gone bad.” Bridget wiped away the tears from her eyes.

  The afternoon wore on. Firemen moved in and out of the building, checking on fire damage. Mysta and the group talked with their neighbors, drank cups of coffee from The Java Demon, and took calls on their cell phones, assuring both clients and friends that they were fine as they waited for the all clear. Every few minutes Mysta checked the fireman’s progress.

  Three hours later the women were given the all clear to go back inside. Acrid smoke scented the office making everyone cough. The sour tang of spell ingredients gone bad hung on the cloth. Mysta, Sera, Lana, and Bridget opened all the windows, the back door and kept the front entrance open to help get rid of the aroma.

  Mysta called the cleaning crew they used to come in right now to get started on mopping, scrubbing, and washing the walls. Within ten minutes of the request, the cleaners arrived and set to work. Bridget took inventory of the workroom while Mysta, Sera, and Lana sat around talking, unable to do anything until the cleaning crew finished with the office.

  Mysta decided that she should take this moment to ask Sera and Lana about the dinner invite. She cleared her throat. “Okay, so today is dinner with my family. My sister is coming in to do some pre-test interviews. You guys are invited.”

  Lana shook her head. “I have a date with the gargoyle boys.” She cackled. “I’m gonna beat their asses at strip poker.”

  Sera grinned so wide it hurt to look at her. “I have a date with my demons. I need it after this afternoon.” Sera’s face lit up. If the demons could put a smile on her face who was Mysta to hold a grudge, although trusting them fully was another matter.

  “Do you think I should try Bridget again?” Now she didn’t want to be alone with Viktor and her family for fear a fight may break out. Her heartbeat picked up speed, pounding out an erratic rhythm against her rib cage.

  “Nope, Joe. So you get to deal with your family on your own, my little snakelet. I only wish I was there to watch you squirm when they ask you all sorts of embarrassing questions and your mom remarks on whether you’ve gained or lost weight.” Sera’s tone was sweet, but it brooked no argument. “Now, we have to get back to work, and can you start sorting some of those scrolls and books you got at that estate sale? Bridget may have forgotten but I didn’t.”

  Mysta frowned. “She didn’t forget. She asked me to do it. Wanna help?” She hoped Lana would say yes. There were so many books. As much as she loved them, maybe she’d gone overboard in spending the boss’s money.

  “Nope, not unless you have a dragon egg hidden under all those stacks of paper and books.” Lana flew off leaving Mysta alone.

  “We are not getting a baby dragon!” Bridget yelled from the brew room.

  “Bitch!” Lana responded.

  Mysta trudged to the back of the building. The fire had been contained in the workroom. Only the scent of lavender air freshener and smoke drifted on the air.

  She climbed up the stairs and opened the door to the apartment over the office. None of the staff used it although there had been talk of hiring someone to watch over the place during the nighttime. Almost all of their valuable artifacts, books, and information was kept at Bridget’s house, but what they needed immediate access to they kept here. She flicked on the light switch and winced. Unlabeled boxes sat all over the room in no particular order, piled up to the ceiling. With a sigh she got to work.

  By the time she needed to leave for dinner she was hot and sweaty, and her muscles ached in places she didn’t want to think about. Her mind had continued to ruminate on what she needed to do with Viktor while she worked, and she knew that she didn’t want to see him leave, not after what they’d started, but it would be a while before she could fully let down her guard with him. Old habits died hard. Even though he’d searched her out and found her, she still had a long way to go before she could truly give all of herself to him. Tonight would be a start. Why couldn’t life and love come with a manual? Or at least a cheater’s guide?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Viktor settled down in his bucket-of-a-flea-market-find sofa, a beer on the arm and a football game playing on a flat screen he’d gotten on Black Friday. Malcolm sat across from him in an overpadded, overcushioned chair that swallowed his tall, muscular frame. It felt wonderful to have a day off and relax at home.

  His phone chirped from its place on his side table. He grabbed it and checked the Caller ID, praying it wasn’t Shevon asking him to work the noon shift aka kiddie story time. He liked kids just fine, just not the ones who came during story time. Sticky fingers that needed to touch everything, running around and refusing to sit down, the know-it-all who had to tell him she/he already knew that part and that he should read something else.

  The readout said Mysta. Grinning, he answered it. She really had called him.

  “Hey, sugar, what’s up?” He was glad that his voice hadn’t gone high-pitched.

  “Hi, um, my parents are in town. My sister has a few pre-match interviews and we’re having dinner. Um, do you want to join us?” Fear and hope filled her tone.

  “Yes, I would love to. I won’t bring the hellhound, promise.” He gave Malcolm a thumbs-up.

  “So he’s with you? Good. Okay, I'll call you with the time and place. See you later. Bye.” She hung up before he could respond.

  He grinned. A thrill raced through his heart. “She invited me to dinner.” He put his phone back on the table.

  “So what are you going to wear? You have to make a good impression so they’ll let you date her.” Malcolm’s lips quirked into a sardonic smile.

  “Let? Fuck no. No one lets me or her do anything. She chooses.” A bit of old anger leaked into his body. He tensed.

  “Whoa, whoa, calm down. I wasn’t trying
to pick a fight.” Malcolm held up his hands. “Bad blood?”

  Viktor shook his head. “I don’t know anymore, but based on what she’s told me I can’t help get a bit riled up over old hurts. It wasn’t her family keeping us apart. It was her, the pressure she was under.”

  Malcolm held up a hand. “And remember you had a deal. Now you can start again. Go slow, my friend.”

  Viktor turned over the words in his mind. “Yeah. I can do that because she’s worth it.”

  “So, this the first time you’re officially meeting the in-laws?” Speculation glittered in Malcolm’s gaze. Viktor ignored it.

  “Yeah. I went out of my way to avoid them. I didn’t want to make trouble for her.”

  “You mean you didn’t want to see if you were wrong about them.” Again that damn cynical grin.

  “Bastard. No. I knew their type. Had seen it before. You try living in a town that breeds familiars and being one of the few actual shifters around. It’s freaky. The magic floating around could choke a rhino shifter.” Viktor shuddered.

  Malcolm’s thick dark brow rose. “Do we have an issue with familiars?”

  Viktor sighed. “I used to…” He paused. “I just… Basic shifters were treated like shit in Arbor Town. And the old families were horrible to my kind.”

  “And yet you fell for Mysta,” Malcolm murmured. His words stung like barbs.

  “Yeah, I did. I knew right away she was meant for me. Ironic right?” Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle at how fate worked.

  “You never told me about your issues with familiars.”

  Malcolm’s words hit him in the gut. “Just certain familiars.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “Either you have issues with us or not. I may not have been born one, but I am one now, and I take issue with it.”

  “I know, not all shifters are like the old families, but after years of verbal abuse from them sometimes I can’t see things clearly.” Viktor’s heart weighed like a stone in his chest. Was that why he had refused to listen to Mysta?

  “Then maybe, you should tell her and her parents that. Jesus, you both are so cute. You two need to fucking talk. And I thought a kiss would help you. Shows what I know. Three hundred and fifty years old, don’t look a day over thirty-five, and you guys still surprise me.” He checked his watch. “Shit. I gotta go. I’ve agreed to help Lana learn to cook. She wants to make a meal without burning shit. She’s telling everyone she’s got a date.” He grinned. “Cute little pixie. Too bad she’s not my type.” Malcolm struggled to get out of the chair. “A little help, here? Your chair is trying to eat my ass.”

  Viktor laughed and pulled Malcolm out of the seat. “Sorry, gotta rip it open and try again.”

  “Or take it to a professional.” Malcolm grabbed Viktor’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Just talk to her, okay?”

  Viktor nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He shut the door on his friend. An ache started in the center of his chest. He’d hear Mysta’s family out, but he wouldn’t promise anything.

  He went to his closet and chose a forest-green button-down shirt and khakis. Unlike Malcolm, who had the bad-boy look down and was a secret clothes whore, Viktor only had three pairs of jeans, two khaki pants, and a few nice button-down tops. The rest were Henleys and T-shirts. He took a quick shower, shaved, and dressed.

  His phone rang. The Caller ID read Mysta. He answered it.

  “Hey, Mysta. I’m ready to go. Where should I meet you?”

  “We’ll be at the Fairy’s Table Family Restaurant.” Someone called her name. “I gotta go. I’ll see you soon.”

  He thought back to all the times he’d visited town and tried to remember which side of town the Fairy’s Table was located at. At the start of Main Street and within walking distance of his house. Rather than take his bike he decided to walk to town.

  He regretted his choice as soon as he arrived at the Fairy’s Table Family Restaurant. It was one of those weird warm fall days where the temperature was in the eighties rather than a nice and cool seventy-five. Sweat coated his face, moisture soaked into his shirt, and there were stains under his arms.

  Mysta and her family were milling around the entrance. His heartbeat kicked up when he saw Mysta’s father and mother. His steps stuttered. For a moment he wanted to turn around and go. Mysta spotted him and waved him over.

  “Too late,” he muttered to himself and strode toward them.

  When he reached them, Mysta flashed him a brief, tense smile, then turned to her father. “Dad, this is my… This is Viktor. Viktor, this is my father, Samuel.” Mysta waved her hand from one man to the other.

  Samuel’s dark brown eyes glinted with a hard light. Lines on his face showed the years. There were dark bags under his eyes, and his skin was tight. He had the look of someone who had worked hard for a long time and hadn’t caught a break. His clothing was neat and well cared for with a few worn spots in the elbows but outdated by a few years. He stood up straight, with the bearing of a proud man who refused to let life keep kicking him in the balls. Viktor’s heart slammed into his rib cage. For a second he stared at Mysta’s parent. A fission of heat filled her father’s eyes. His brows creased, and his nostrils flared. Samuel’s chin lifted. He made no move toward Viktor, not even a step.

  Mysta nudged Viktor. Viktor shook his head and held out his hand. It wouldn’t do to ignore social niceties. They were in public after all.

  “Just shake hands,” Mysta urged with another nudge.

  Viktor wanted to turn and point out that he had his friggin’ hand out. It was Samuel who was refusing to meet him halfway.

  “You’re the boy who threw rocks at my windows.” Her father’s voice was deep, as if from the depths of the earth.

  “Pebbles, yeah.”

  “Not good enough to come to the front door and knock? Or was my door too shabby for the likes of a full-fledged shifter like you?”

  “Dad!” Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor saw Mysta’s horrified face.

  “Samuel, please.” Mysta’s mother brushed Samuel aside and took Viktor’s hand in a firm handshake. “I’m Meena. I’ve seen you around Arbor Town. Nice to finally meet you.” Tension lines bracketed her face, and Viktor could see she was making an effort. The corner of Meena’s mouth twitched, and her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. Her gaze flitted from him to Samuel and then back to Viktor. The nervous flutter of her heartbeat reached Viktor’s ear.

  “Or maybe you thought our kind wasn’t worth your notice until you decided to go after my daughter. She was working hard to become a familiar until you came along,” Samuel pressed.

  “I know she was working hard,” Viktor snapped. “And she became a familiar, a damn good one. And I’m not too good for anything.”

  “You’re damn right she became a good familiar. One of the best. She’s bonded to one of the most powerful witches we’ve seen in centuries.” Viktor opened his mouth, but Samuel cut him off. “All you did was distract her and make her doubt herself. Second-guess her calling.”

  “I did no such thing,” Viktor growled.

  “Please, stop. Please? Why don’t we go inside?” Mysta’s eyes pleaded with him.

  “Come on, dear.” Meena pulled her husband into the building.

  Mysta, her sister, and Viktor followed Mysta’s parents and paused at the maitre d’s station. While they waited for someone to show them to their table, Viktor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to cool down.

  A waiter arrived, menus in hand. “Excuse me, sir. Your table is ready.”

  “Please behave, Samuel. Let’s go sit down and just enjoy a good meal.” Meena took Samuel’s hand and followed their waiter to the back of the dining room, leaving Mysta and her sister with Viktor.

  “I…um…this is Karolina. Lina this is Vik.” Mysta blushed. She waved her hand between the two of them. Reserve filled her eyes.

  Lina had the same color and look of Mysta but with lighter brown eyes. She ducked her head, giving him a shy bob
with her eyes downcast. Pink spots appeared on her smooth cheeks. “Hi,” she whispered.

  Viktor grinned. She was just like her sister, only Mysta had always had her guard up around strangers. “Nice to meet you.” He glanced up to find what table Mysta’s parents had sat down at. They had been given a round table toward the back. Samuel gave him a hard glare from where he sat, which only fired Viktor up. Let Samuel judge him all he wanted. Only Mysta’s approval mattered. “Let’s go to the table before your father tries to kill me with his death stare.”

  Viktor led them over to the table and pulled out chairs for each of them before taking a seat across from Samuel. Viktor refused to run away from whatever Samuel would throw at him.

  Samuel smirked.

  “Samuel, relax. Viktor, I was so sorry to hear about your mother.” Sadness filled Meena’s whiskey-colored eyes.

  “She was such a lady, very dignified. Didn’t deserve what your father put her through.” Samuel’s hard stare weighed on him.

  Viktor had strived to be nothing like the father that had abandoned his family when they’d needed him the most. A lump formed in his throat. He tried to swallow past it but it remained. He turned his attention to the menu.

  “I brought her some tapioca when I could make extra.” Meena’s voice was quiet but filled with strength.

  Viktor blinked. Images of the weed-filled yard, the house that needed so many repairs, the look of determined pride on Mysta’s parents’ faces when they walked down the street, the pathetic anemic vegetable garden in the back. He closed his eyes. How had he not seen it before? He wanted to say something, anything. Thanking her seemed inadequate. He remembered when he’d arrived at his mother’s house and found cartons of tapioca pudding, and there was no explanation. Tears stung his eyes. He turned his head away. He remembered the fresh vegetables—not big, hearty ones, but small choices on the worn, chipped Formica counter—and yarn and new needles and patterns. His mother had refused to tell him where they’d come from. It had all been Meena all that time. He shut his eyes for a moment to stave off the tears that wanted to fall. Gratitude filled his heart. He opened his eyes and gazed at the woman who had used up any extra money they’d had to make his mother’s last days more comfortable. Appreciation and honor filled his heart until he thought it would burst with the emotions.