Hot Magic

by Holli Bertram

  Julie had screened each subject in the study, both the control group and the bad luck group. She could vouch for the fact that every person in the bad luck group more than met the study criteria for negative life events. Interviewers were now in the field—in this case, the subjects’ homes—administering a questionnaire that Dr. Waters and Julie had developed to assess the past month of their life.

  “How are the results?” Julie prompted when Phoebe didn’t immediately continue.

  “An odd thing happened between your baseline screening and the field interviews.” Phoebe didn’t look happy.

  Julie’s gaze darted to Joe, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong. She’d trained the field interviewers and they were a bright and eager bunch.

  “Everyone’s luck changed,” Phoebe stated simply.

  “What?”

  “People who have had years of karmic crap piled on them are suddenly winning the lottery. One of the respondents got a promotion out of the entry-level position he’s worked in for fifteen years. A woman who’d been homeless for five years had a miserly uncle die and leave her over a million dollars. A third found the title to some New York City property that had been missing for generations. The list goes on and on.”

  Julie blinked. “How amazing.”

  Phoebe nodded. “More than amazing. What is the probability of something like this happening by chance?”

  Julie glanced at Joe, their statistics expert. He shrugged, a small smile on his face. “I could run the numbers, but so far the interviewers have completed questionnaires on twenty subjects who are in our bad luck group. All twenty have had an unprecedented run of good luck this past month.”

  “Which is bad luck for our study,” Phoebe said. “The odd thing is, this isn’t as unusual as you might think. I spoke with Dr. Bartel and Dr. Jacobs at lunch today. A similar thing happened to Bartel during his study on divorced parents delinquent with their child-support payments. Before he could begin any of his planned interventions, the checks started rolling in. Jacobs said that on his study of sex offenders, erectile dysfunction became rampant among the offenders, skewing data on the effectiveness of his group therapy. He ended up having to treat everyone in his subject pool for depression.”

  “I remember that. I—”

  Phoebe interrupted her. “I don’t want all the time and money we’ve put into this study to go to waste, but how am I supposed to study adverse life events when everyone in my sample is acting like they have a four-leaf clover tattooed on their forehead?”

  Excellent question. Another glance at Joe showed no help coming from that quarter. In fact, he seemed highly amused.

  “Well, perhaps our focus is too narrow,” Julie said slowly. “Perhaps we should be looking at the mediating variables that impact both positive and negative life events to help guide our intervention.” Julie took a deep breath. “We can modify the questionnaire and send back the interviewers.”

  Phoebe stared at her for an endless second, and then nodded. “That might work. I’ll research what standard instruments are available to assess this. Call the interviewers. You can train them on the new instrument next Monday. You’ll need to call the Institutional Review Board and get an okay to revise our protocol to include the second interview.”

  Julie nodded, relieved a crisis appeared to have been averted.

  Phoebe paused on the way out the door. “Good thinking, Dancer.”

  Julie smiled weakly and watched her stride through the door. Joe chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Didn’t you work with both Bartel and Jacobs on those studies that Phoebe mentioned?

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Interesting coincidence. If I believed in coincidence.” Joe crossed his arms over his chest. She caught the familiar scent of the citrus cologne he always wore. He watched her as if he knew something she didn’t, and waited for her to make a connection.

  The puzzle pieces clicked together. “You think that I had something to do with this?” Julie stared back, aghast. “How? Aside from the ethical issue of messing with subjects in a study, it would be impossible to do something like change everyone’s luck.”

  Joe’s expression didn’t change.

  Julie gave him an exasperated look. “So, what’s your theory? I have pixie dust that I throw on the subjects or something?”

  He cocked his head and studied her. “I don’t know. Do you?”

  She glared. “Joe, you’re not making sense. It’s not as if I have some kind of woo-woo….” Julie’s voice trailed off as she used the word Dorie had just used at lunch. She did have woo-woo. At least according to Harry. Could she have screwed up the Bad Luck study without even realizing it? And the other studies she’d worked on? No. The alimony checks and limp penises had nothing to do with her. They couldn’t. Her ability to absorb power hadn’t started until she kissed Harry. But hadn’t her mother said that even before Triad members came into their full power some of them were able to use small amounts of energy? Could she have been somehow using energy without even realizing it?

  Joe stood and pulled Julie to her feet. “Don’t look so frazzled. The study will still yield interesting data.” He squeezed her hands, which he still held. “There’s no need to feel guilty.”

  She met his eyes, almost on a level with hers. His were full of laughter. Why was he taking this so calmly?

  Before she could question him, Tasha breezed into the office. “Mom, who is that sitting outside your office? Are you doing a study on women wrestlers or something?” Tasha stopped when she saw her mother wasn’t alone. “Oh, hi, Dr. Kradeno.”

  “Tasha.” Joe dropped Julie’s hands and took a step back.

  “Are you still working, Mom? Do you want me to,” Tash hesitated and looked over her shoulder toward the door with obvious reluctance, “wait out in the hall?”

  Julie shook her head and reached for her briefcase. “No, it’s late. Dr. Kradeno and I will finish talking tomorrow. Let’s go home.”

  Jean’s meatless chili had everyone reaching for water glasses. Only Linda seemed unaffected.

  “Thanks for dinner, Mom,” Julie gasped, surprised when flames didn’t erupt from her mouth.

  “You’re welcome, dear. I called Phyllis this afternoon and got the recipe.”

  “Phyllis?”

  “One of the Gigis.” At everyone’s blank look, Jean elaborated. “You know, one of the Gay Grays—the G.G.s.”

  “Ah.” Julie nodded. “Of course.”

  “Every Monday night,” Jean continued, “the girls have a themed dinner get-together and Phyllis cooks. She’s a bit territorial about the whole thing.” Jean frowned. “She hasn’t let me have a turn yet.”

  Smart woman, that Phyllis.

  “What’s tonight’s theme? Fire-breathing dragons?” Tasha asked dryly.

  Jean beamed with approval. “Actually, it’s Sean Connery movies. I chose Dragonheart, so you’re close.”

  “Weird theme for a group of lesbians, isn’t it?” Tasha muttered, pushing beans around her plate.

  “We’ve already covered male-bashing and vibrators, so….”

  “Grandma!”

  “Mom!”

  Linda doubled over, sputtering with laughter.

  Jean folded her arms and looked at Tasha. “I’m still your grandma, Tasha. I still love you. The Gigis aren’t defined only by our sexuality, baby. We’re particularly into community service these days.”

  “I think that’s great, Mom.” And Julie did. She could see that Tasha was about to comment, so she quickly continued. “Now that dinner is over, we need to talk about this Sun Dancer business.”

  Tasha nodded. “Speaking of that, you’ll never believe who I saw today in the library.”

  “Who?” Julie asked, wondering at the soft smile on her daughter’s face.

  “Luc, that Shadow Walker who dropped by this morning.”

  “He gets around,” Julie said, sudden fear for her daughter spiking through her.
Why hadn’t she thought they might go after Tasha? Only the fact that her daughter sat at the table, safe and sound, kept her hands from shaking. “I saw Luc today, too. He was with his sister, and they tried to….” She paused. What had they tried to do? Kidnap her? Out of a public restaurant? That sounded too bizarre to say out loud.

  “They tried to kidnap her out of a public restaurant,” Linda inserted.

  Tasha shot Linda a disbelieving look—which was actually the type of look Tasha had been giving Linda ever since they met. Then she turned to Julie.

  “Mom?” She wanted Julie to deny it.

  “I don’t think they like me, Tash. Luc’s sister thinks I’m out to thwart her evil plans or something. Did Luc say anything to you at the library?” Julie tried to keep her fear for Tasha’s safety out of her voice.

  “We went out for coffee. I don’t know where you get the idea he doesn’t like you, Mom. You must have misinterpreted something he said.” She sounded desperate. “Are you sure they tried to kidnap you?”

  Jean jumped up, knocking over her chair, startling everyone. “You are not to go out with him again. Stay away from him, Natasha.”

  Julie stared at her mother, but nodded. “I have to agree, Tash. Something is going on here that we don’t understand. I think it might be a good idea if you move back home for a while.”

  Tasha frowned. “I can’t do that. I have classes, a roommate, a pre-paid dining plan.” Her voice grew softer. “A life.”

  “Just until we know there’s no danger.” Julie paused. “Marguerite, Luc’s sister, attacked Linda. She’s playing for real.”

  Tasha looked at Linda, her face pale. “Are you okay?”

  Linda nodded her head briskly. “The b–witch caught me by surprise, otherwise I would have taken her.” She flexed her arms and they all watched her muscles bulge.

  “Mom,” Tasha turned back to Julie, who was rubbing her own less-than-ripped biceps. “I didn’t know he threatened you. I never would have gone with him.”

  Julie pushed away from the table and walked over to Tasha. She put an arm around her shoulders, and Tash leaned into her. “He didn’t threaten, but he was definitely playing wingman to his sister. I think his sister is the one we have to worry about.”

  “And you think I’m in danger?”

  “She might hurt you to get to me, Tash.” Julie ran a hand down her daughter’s soft hair. Fire hair, she’d always called it.

  Tash pulled away and looked at Julie. Her lips set in a straight line that Julie knew meant she was thinking things through. “Can’t you renounce your powers so this will all go away?”

  Julie looked at Jean to see if that was an option. Jean gave a negative shake of her head.

  “Apparently not.”

  Tash nodded and straightened her shoulders. “Okay. I’d worry about you all the time if I were at the dorm, anyway. But I still need to go to classes and the library.”

  “Linda will go with you.” Thank goodness Tash wasn’t going to fight her on this.

  Linda shook her head. “No way. I’m stuck to you like glue, Dancer.”

  Jean spoke up. “I’ll go with her. I can call a couple of Gigis if we decide we need more protection. They can be here in a flash.”

  “The Gay Grays are going to be my protection?” Tash rubbed her head as if she suddenly had a headache.

  Julie knew exactly how her daughter felt. She headed for the cabinet next to the sink. “Ibuprofin, anyone?”

  They’d made a quick trip to Tash’s dorm so she could pick up clothes and books and tell her roommate she’d be gone for a few days. Tash was now upstairs in her room, studying. Julie sat, legs curled, on the soft, brown couch. Her mother sat in the matching chair, a laptop on her knees, probably online with the Gigis. Linda perched across from her on a wooden chair she’d pulled in from the kitchen. It felt strange to have so many people in the house. She’d been alone since Tash went to school. Which, okay, had only been a month, but it felt like longer.

  Linda stared at her, unmoving.

  She’d never hosted a Penumbrae Guardian before and wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to ignore her or entertain her. But, since ignoring her was impossible, her decision was made. “Would you like a magazine, or should I turn on the television?”

  “American TV is crap.”

  Brief and to the point. “Um, I could go through my movie collection. We could watch Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility.”

  Linda perked up. “Do you have any Monty Python?”

  “No.”

  She slouched back.

  They stared at each other in silence until Julie started to feel prickly. She reached for the remote. There must be a repeat of Fawlty Towers on one of her two hundred odd channels.

  The house phone rang at the same time that a knock sounded on the door. Julie jumped up, glad for something to do. She hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the phone and clicked it on as she walked back toward the front door, still feeling the weight of Linda’s gaze.

  “Hello.”

  “Don’t answer your front door!” Dorie’s breathless voice squeaked over the line.

  Julie froze, hand on the brass doorknob. “Dorie? What are you talking about?” Another knock sounded—a soft tap, as if the person on the other side sensed she was near and just needed to nudge her to open the door.

  “Dorie, who’s at the door?” Julie whispered. Linda sat up straighter, eyes narrowing on Julie. “Marguerite, Harrison, Vampires, Werewolves? Talk!” Julie hissed into the suddenly silent phone.

  “Oops. Sorry, Dylan just put gum in Danny’s hair. Why don’t they just make peanut butter shampoo for kids? I don’t know how many times—”

  “Doreen! The door?”

  “Oh. It’s Super-Slut Cindy. And unless you want to go to her Halloween party and watch her prance around in a skin-tight Catwoman costume, don’t answer the door.”

  “Are you going?” Cindy was ringing the bell now.

  “Duh. Jim answered the door. We’re going, but you still have time to be saved.”

  Dorie was diabolically clever. The adult party would be held after the kids finished trick-or-treating. If Julie didn’t answer the door, she’d be available to babysit that night for the devilish duo. And they would be a devilish duo—even without the cute little pointy-tail costumes Dorie was already sewing. Dylan and Daniel on a candy high were not a pretty sight.

  Julie would take a bullet for Dorie. But she would not babysit for her on Halloween night. She opened the door.

  All five feet eight inches, one hundred and twenty curvaceous pounds of Cindy Lui almost fell into the living room. Cindy had an African-American mother, a Chinese father, and she was the most stunning woman Julie had ever seen. To top it off, she taught Biology at the University of Michigan and would probably win a Nobel Prize someday. She wasn’t a slut—Dorie just called her that because Jim couldn’t say a straight sentence whenever Cindy looked at him. If it wouldn’t mean giving up her daughter, Julie would want to be Cindy Lui.

  “Julie! I thought you were home.” Cindy handed her a sealed envelope with little ghost and witch stickers on it. “An invitation to my annual Halloween Party. It’s the night of a blue moon this year, so the goblins and ghosts will be out in full force.” She smiled and glanced around the room, her eyes widening as she got a look at Linda. She took a step backward. “I’m getting the invitations out early so my party gets on your calendar first.”

  “Thanks, Cindy. I’ll be there.”

  Cindy dragged her gaze away from Linda. “You wouldn’t happen to know if Harrison is out of town? I’ve knocked on his door a couple of times, but haven’t gotten an answer.” A long-fingered hand tucked a strand of her short, wavy hair behind her ear. “I’d hate for him to miss the party.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Isn’t he the most amazing man? I had him to dinner the night after he moved in.” She lowered a conspiratorial eyelid at Julie. “As his landlord, to welcome him
to the neighborhood.”

  “I’m sure he appreciated it.” The air seemed blocked in Julie’s lungs. She concentrated on taking deep, even breaths.

  “Oh, he did. Yes, I’d say he definitely appreciated it.” Cindy looked closer at Julie. “I’m not stepping on any toes, am I?”

  “No. No. My toes are just fine,” Julie wheezed. It was her breathing she was having trouble with. Suddenly, Linda stood behind her.

  “You’re sucking in air like you just choked on a pile of buffalo chips. What’s the matter with you?” Linda plucked the extra invitation out of Cindy’s hand. “Shoo. We’ll give this to Harrison.”

  Cindy tilted her head to look up at Linda, something she probably rarely had to do with another woman. “I can—”

  Linda pushed her out the door. “Get going while you still can.” She didn’t give Cindy a chance to reply before she slammed the door shut.

  Immediately, Julie could breathe easier. She put her hands on her knees and pulled in a deep whiff of Cindy’s tantalizing perfume. “That woman is such a slut.”

  Her mother clicked shut her computer and looked up. “You wouldn’t think that someone who came into her power at well past her prime would have such problems controlling it.”

  “I am not well past my prime! Was that my power? You told me to ignore my power. How can I ignore suffocation?” Julie wanted to yell at someone and Cindy wasn’t handy.

  Jean sighed. “I was wrong. You need training. You shouldn’t have had difficulty breathing. I think that was a panic attack. Probably triggered by the fact you wanted to blast Harrison’s girlfriend but wouldn’t let yourself.”

  “She’s not Harrison’s girlfriend! I do not have panic attacks!”

  “You’re not in denial either.” Jean shook her head.

  Harry and Cindy were not a couple. One dinner did not make a relationship. Then again, what did make a relationship? She hadn’t seen all that much of Harry herself, but there was certainly something between them. And that something made her want to be as tall and pretty as Cindy Lui.