Thinking Estele didn’t even look old enough to drink, let alone the rest of what he had planned, he began to worry somebody may have made a big mistake. “I don’t know. What are you going to have?”
“I’m having a Cuban mojito.”
Mojitos were a current favorite of his. At least he couldn’t fault her on taste. “Sounds good. I’ll have one also.”
Sid set two heavy tumblers on the countertop. “Behold, the glasses are clean.”
“Let me double-check.” Estele waved a hand over the top to cast a sanitation incantation. “Yep, they’re free of magical residue. Continue.”
Setting a sturdy glass pitcher on the counter, Sid spooned a flurry of fine-grain sugar into the bottom, adding fistful after fistful of fresh mint leaves until the drink began to look like a salad.
Then Sid reached for a bowl full of limes. Each lime was selected, given a harsh squeeze, and rolled mercilessly against the countertop beneath the weight of his palm before being cut in half and juiced. The lime juice was added to the pitcher and a thick wooden stick with a rounded head was used to crush the mint and muddle it all together. The mashed mint leaves released their cool, fragrant aromatic oils into the air. White rum was poured over everything, along with a splash of club soda and a scoop of crushed ice. The pitcher of jade green liquid was stirred and pushed toward Estele. “Cuban-style mojitos. Enjoy.”
Estele reached for the pitcher. “Thank—” Biting her lip, she was quick to correct herself. “I meant, this looks delicious, Sid. I know we’ll love it.”
Slipping a few bills from his wallet, Val set them on the countertop and took hold of the pitcher.
Estele’s jaw dropped. “I was going to buy the drinks.”
“First round is on me. Where would you like to sit?”
She motioned toward a grass hut in the far corner, lorded over by a scowling Tiki. “Over there.”
Leading the way, she walked in an ultra-feminine, hip-swinging Marilyn Monroe type of saunter. He followed in a semihypnotized state, hoping his tongue wasn’t hanging out. The dress and shoes flattered her figure and poured gasoline on his lust-starved libido. Part of him wished she’d worn combat boots and baggy jeans instead. It would have been more practical.
Taking a seat in the booth across from Estele, he pushed one of the tumblers toward her and poured.
She set her purse on the table.
As he poured the drinks, his hand felt strange. An odd sensation started in his palm and traveled up his arm. Soon every tiny hair on his forearm was standing straight. All his training alerted him to the possibility of a metaphysical ambush. Something was askew.
A red glow emanated from inside Estele’s purse, casting a rosy tint against the wall. “Estele, I think your phone is on.”
Peering inside her purse, she winced. “Uh-oh.” Hurriedly, she moved the bag under the table.
Why did she look so surprised? “What was it?”
She pushed the handbag farther away, a nervous smile fluttering on her lips. “Nothing.”
“Nothing glows red?”
“I’m holding on to something for a friend.” She sipped the mojito. “Um, this is good, which reminds me, I have to remember to buy a bottle of rum on the way home.”
Was she nervous because this was a date, or was something else going on? All his senses screamed something else was going on. “If it’s important, maybe you should write it on your hand.”
“That’s a good idea.” Digging through her purse, she reached for a felt pen and scrawled “RUM” on her thumb.
“What’s the rum for?”
Shifting on the seat, she appeared uncomfortable. “Nothing.”
Okay, what was with this woman? “More nothing? That’s a lot of nothing.”
She took a long swallow of mojito. “It’s for something, but I can’t say.”
Picking up his glass, he took the first sip. Fresh, minty, and tart, and the generous amount of rum warmed his throat. The whole thing burned like green fire going down and spread through his limbs like the tide rushing ashore. A moment of light-headedness followed. He started to feel the antsy shaken can of soda sensation, like he wanted to get up and do backflips across the room. His heart raced and he couldn’t stop staring at Estele, wondering if it might be a good idea to drag her under the table and cover her in kisses. Without doubt she was the most attractive woman he’d been near in a long while.
Then a sobering moment of reality hit. It occurred to him that the effects he was feeling were more than a little white rum could produce. “You look beautiful,” he blurted. “I feel really bad about this. I let you think tonight was a date, but it’s not.”
Estele clutched the tumbler. “What is it, Val? What’s wrong? You look odd. Why are you staring at me like that?”
Honesty was not part of the plan, at least not at this stage. The less Estele knew, the safer she’d be. Talking would ruin everything. His throat tensed as he willed himself to remain silent, but the words kept coming. “I wanted to speak in private so I could recruit you.”
Damn! Why did I say it out loud?
Leaning forward, she laughed. “Recruit me? For what?”
Staring at the tall glasses sweating on the table, he muttered, “Something’s not right.” Thinking quickly, he removed a silver chain from around his neck that had a tiny filigree dagger as a dangling ornament. He held the chain above the tabletop and watched in suspense as the blade spun in a circle, then pulled strongly toward the pitcher.
“Whoa!” His jaw dropped. “Look at that. I’m getting an enchantment reading that’s off the charts!” He glanced at Estele, who looked dumbfounded. “How well do you know the bartender? The tumblers might have been clean of spells, but the pitcher he mixed the drinks in isn’t.”
Estele stuck her head outside the booth. “Sid! This isn’t funny. What did you do to the drinks? Be honest, is there a mojo on the mojitos?”
Sid scoffed from behind the counter. “It’s a mild attraction spell. It won’t do anything to the two of you that wasn’t already happening. Don’t be so uptight. I get so frigging bored trapped behind the bar.”
“Sidhe!” Estele became enraged. “This is an abuse of magic. I should report you to the enchantment committee.”
Dismissive laughter rolled out of Sid. “Estele Esposito plans to report a magic violation to the committee? Holy crap, I want to be there to see their faces. I did you a favor, sweetie. You’re sloppy and you need to be more cautious. Did you even notice this guy’s a full-fledged brujo?”
Estele looked surprised in a bad way.
Val froze, feeling guilty. “I was just getting ready to mention it.”
Hurt shone in her eyes. “This afternoon, you had a couple opportunities to mention you were a brujo.”
“I didn’t know I needed to. What the hell, I’m working in a food truck with the words ‘Brujo Tacos’ written in orange lettering across the front. It’s not exactly classified information.”
She raised her palm in annoyance, and her voice trembled. “I never take that sort of thing literally! If a sign says ‘Wizard Dry Cleaning,’ I don’t assume the business is owned and operated by actual wizards. You didn’t enchant my lunch, did you? I thought you were such a nice guy, and so good-looking. Of course, it’s too good to be true. Man, this got weird fast.” Reaching for her purse, she looked peeved. “Bummer. I’m going home before things get worse.” She stood.
He grabbed her wrist. “Wait! Don’t leave. Not yet. Let’s talk.”
She held the purse to her heart. A bit of red glow seeped out through the zipper seam.
“What is in your handbag that glows crimson?”
Locking her arms tight around the purse, she turned away. “None of your business.”
The look of anger on her face tipped him off that this was not going to be easy. “We got off on the wrong foot, and I’m sorry about that. Please sit. Give me ten minutes. I just want a chance to explain.”
“Forget it. I s
houldn’t even be talking to a brujo.”
He looked at her with his best puppy in the pet shop expression. “Please.”
She sat. “Okay, but only ten minutes.”
Pointing to the pitcher, he drew a tense breath. “We both drank. How much trouble are we in? Does that guy know what he’s doing in the enchantment department or is he just a dabbler?”
A frown creased her brow. “He knows what’s he’s doing. If Sid says the spell is mild, it is.”
“I couldn’t figure him out. What is he? A warlock?”
“No.” A sarcastic laugh burst free of her. “He’s not human. Tonight Sid is wearing his hair down, so you can’t see his pointy ears. Sidhe the Fae is a demoted demigod punished by the Queen of Fae. He used to be a Prince of the Forest Realms and Supreme Calvary Commander during the Fae Crusades. Now he owns a Tiki bar.”
Whistling. “He must have fucked up bad.”
“Big-time,” she whispered. “We should keep it down. Sid’s hearing is as sharp as a tack.”
“Really?” Resting his elbows on the table, he was drawn to Estele like iron filings to a magnet. At that moment she looked like a streetwise Snow White in a snug cherry-print dress. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and feel her melt in his arms as he kissed her throat. That reaction came out of nowhere and boded ill for his dignity. “So, is it safe to say any ‘attraction’ we might be feeling toward each other is due to the enchanted mojito?”
“Speak for yourself. I’m sort of pissed off at you. If I’d known you were a real brujo I would not have eaten your food, or agreed to meet you here tonight.”
“But I didn’t know that. I was going to tell you.” Her words were cold water dashed in his face, but he still wanted to put a hand on her thigh, even if she slapped him for trying such a poorly timed stunt. “What have you got against brujos anyway?”
“Can’t trust them.”
“How many brujos do you know?”
“It’s what you don’t know about a brujo that causes the problems.”
“That doesn’t sound very open-minded or PC. I thought the enchantment community practiced inclusive nonjudgment of different magical lifestyles?”
“They do.” Her words sounded clipped. “I just don’t care for brujos. Even big handsome ones like you. So there.”
“Fair enough.” He sat back, reached for the tumbler, and took another sip. “I’m going to live dangerously and drink the freaking mojito even though a weird Fae cast a spell on it. It’s delicious, and to be honest I was already feeling attracted to you this afternoon. So what the hell, a little extra attraction spell in the booze isn’t going to make too big a difference in my night. I can see how this is going to end.”
Estele didn’t touch her drink. “How does this end? Tell me. I’m interested to hear your opinion.”
“We get up in a few minutes, walk away from each other, and innocent people die.” He compressed his lips and willed himself not to speak the words. Or I put an enchantment on you and compel you to help me.
“Put the drink down,” she urged. “You’re getting a strange gleam in your eyes.”
Taking another sip, he spoke slowly. “Estele, why don’t you trust brujos?”
The red glow escaping her purse intensified and pulsed like a beating heart. “It’s a personal matter.”
The personal matter looked like the colored lights in a disco. “What the hell is in your purse?”
Estele looked appalled. “I’m not going to tell you, so stop asking.”
“I’m trying to understand this. Did I do something to intimidate or scare you?”
“Scare me?” Her eyes flashed. “Ha! Don’t flatter yourself. I see scary stuff every day, most of it my doing.” She reached for her mojito. “I’m not even scared to drink Sid’s cocktail, because now that I know you’re a brujo there’s zero temptation to give in to attraction, which is not how I felt about you this afternoon. Believe me, I was on the hook.”
Was she teasing him or insulting him? It was such a shame. Estele was so cute, exactly his type. “So, it’s strictly my brujo-ness that’s causing an issue?”
“Honey, it ain’t your big brown eyes or your rocking bod causing red flags.” Covering her mouth with her palm, she appeared shocked. “Whoops, nix that. I need to be quiet.”
He set the tumbler down. “Maybe if you knew me a little better, you’d feel differently.”
“Val, my mother used to say, ‘No one really knows a brujo. It’s all superficial machismo and secrets.’”
“That’s harsh. Why would she say something like that?”
“Because she was briefly married to one.”
Wow, that brought the curtain down on Act Two. “Oh.”
Estele’s pretty little face looked like a China doll, ready to shatter to bits. “Yep, my daddy’s a brujo. I don’t remember him and I have no idea where he is now. I was still in diapers when he went bye-bye on me and my mom. No love lost.”
“I’m sorry for you. It doesn’t sound good. But it’s discouraging to hear that one man, who you admit you don’t know, has determined your opinion of all brujos.”
“A father is a pretty important man. Who he is, what he is, counts.”
“I know.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Just thinking about it brought a stab of pain. “My father is a dentist in La Jolla, California. Upscale clientele, drives a shiny black Mercedes. He was horrified that I willingly chose the path of brujo. He wanted me to go into cosmetic dentistry with him. I couldn’t do it. I felt the ancestral calling and asked to be apprenticed to my dad’s younger brother, Tio Bruno. Bruno’s the older man working the truck with me. He’s an amazing wizard and a very ethical person. I wanted to learn the art of food magic, alquimia de sabor—alchemy of flavor—from him.”
Estele squinted in Val’s direction. “There’s such a thing as specializing in food magic? I’ve never heard of alqui—what did you call it?”
“Alquimia de sabor—alchemy of flavor. It’s a specialty or predilection of brujos.”
She took a sip of her mojito. “Interesting. You learn something new every day. What does a food alchemist do exactly?”
“The inherent magic of the plant and animal kingdoms are harnessed into a form of enchantment consumed and appreciated by the aesthetic body—the senses. The alchemy of flavor works on many levels. It can break down barriers between people. Open the heart. Certain flavors or scents can even transport the spirit back in time. It seems simple, but it’s powerful stuff.”
“So instead of tools of power like a wand or crystals, you work with food?”
“Yes, mostly food, but I do use a few magical tools.” He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until his shoulders relaxed. “You don’t seem as upset as you were a few minutes ago.”
Leaning back against the booth, she shrugged. “I’m not.”
That was encouraging. “What about you? The cat’s out of the bag. We’ve both come clean about being members of the enchantment community. What sort of magic do you practice?”
“I don’t know how to answer that. I’m a witch and you’re a brujo. We’re not really part of the same community, are we?”
“Okay, I’ll reword my question, separate but equal members of the enchantment community.”
She placed her hands on the table like she was going to pounce. “Want the truth? I don’t know what I’m doing! Even my best friend describes my style of spellcraft as ‘batshit wacky.’ I’m a danger to my friends and loved ones. What I intend to have happen and my actual results never match up. Most of the time I’m a freaking disaster!”
“I think you’re being hard on yourself.”
She glanced away in disgust. “Trust me. I’m not.”
He sensed an opening and rushed in. “I went through a difficult phase too. When I started my apprenticeship to Tio Bruno, I was twenty-two and had just finished four years of college. Most apprentices begin practicing in their teens. It didn’t come easy. In many ways, I had more to
unlearn. I vividly remember a few times that Tio Bruno almost gave up on me.”
With a tilt of her delicate head, Estele appeared to be studying him. “How old are you now?”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“You mastered the art in only four years? I’m twenty-two and I’ve been a bad witch my entire life.”
He laughed. “I never said I mastered the art. I became proficient enough to know I should continue to the next level.”
“Which is?”
“For a brujo?” He clasped his hands in front of him and hoped he didn’t appear terrified. “Magical partnership with an ally.”
She nodded. “You should adopt a rescue dog. They’re grateful, smart, and I hear they make excellent allies. I have a friend who volunteers at a pet shelter. I could hook you up with a paw-tastic ally.”
Swallowing hard, he continued. “Estele, I was hoping to recruit you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Me? What are you thinking? A dog might be more teachable.”
“I disagree, and I’m not sure I need to teach you anything.”
Her brows lifted. “I’m confused. I feel like I’m being set up here. You think I’d make a good magical ally? That’s just evil or extremely foolish! Either way, something’s not adding up. You’re too handsome. Too easy to talk to.” She leaned across the table and poked him in the chest. “Look at all this muscle. Is this even real? Or is it a spellcast exterior glamour? I’ll bet you’re really a bony little 103-year-old perve-toad.”
Her odd form of flattery made him want to burst out smiling, but he was afraid to come off smug. “I’m into weight lifting. I have to stay active. I work with food all day.”
“Another thing.” She pointed to a tattoo on her arm of an Irish Claddagh, a heart clasped between two hands. “Is your name really Valentine? Or was that a made-up thing to get my attention? I’m asking because all my friends know the heart is my lucky totem.”
Reaching for his wallet in his back pocket, he withdrew his driver’s license and set it on the table.
She picked up the license with dainty fingers, tilting it to make the embossed hologram flash. “It looks official. Valentine Del Toro. Male….” She smirked. “Obviously. Born October 27. That makes you a Scorpio. I’ll consider myself warned. According to the California Department of Motor Vehicles you are indeed twenty-six years old. Current residence is listed as 113 Larkswood Lane. Black hair, brown eyes, six-foot-four, 203 pounds.” She returned the license. “Taken as a whole, very provocative reading. You’re really six four? I’m barely five two. I can’t even imagine what being so tall would feel like.”
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