by RJ Blain
Oh, right. I’d been young, stupid, and blinded by the idea of a rich knight on a white horse romancing someone like me. My parents had loved the idea—and him—more than I had. I wondered if Adken still spoke to them. I didn’t. They were his sort of people, and after the divorce, I’d run from their disappointment almost as fast as I’d run from Adken’s chokehold on my life.
Each letter on scraps of paper I read reinforced my regrets. If I had stayed, would my son be a happier man? Would I have still had Hestia?
Could I have somehow fixed my broken home?
My thoughts plagued me all week, and when yet another lonely Sunday rolled around, I cabbed to the Indian buffet, planning to do something I hadn’t done in years. I’d drink my memories away. I’d start at the buffet, and by the time I finished hopping from bar to bar, I wouldn’t be capable of remembering my own name, so I wouldn’t be able to worry over what might’ve been.
The guilt of abandoning my son would never disappear, but I could ignore it for a while.
Never had I hated a party of one at a table for two so much before, but all of the seats at the buffet’s bar were taken. I ordered a whisky on the rocks to start the show with a bang and went to get enough food to mitigate the danger of alcohol poisoning.
When I returned, my party of one had a very unwelcome addition, and while the first streaks of gray touched his shit brown hair, Adken hadn’t changed all that much. He held my whisky in his hand, and he dared to lift my glass in a salute.
The drowned squirrel had to have been an omen. If I ever got a hold of Adken and his asshole friends, the only question would be my sentence. Since making a scene would ruin my chances of a successful homicide, I sat. “I’m certain choosing to sit at my table violates your restraining order.”
“We both know the restraining order’s bullshit. It won’t kill you to sit and talk. I’ve left you alone, just like you wanted. I deserve a chance to have a civil conversation with you. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I ordered you a new drink.”
I checked the clock on the buffet’s wall. “I’m giving you ten minutes. If you don’t leave before then, I’m calling the police to report your violation of the restraining order.” I stabbed an onion on my plate and popped it into my mouth, hoping the smell would offend him enough to drive him away. “What do you want?”
“You’re holding out on your child support. Maxwell sent me photos of your luxury car. That’s not—”
“Divorce settlement property doesn’t factor into your monthly payments. It’s not my fault you discarded a treasure rather than investing in it. The only new pieces are valued at less than ten thousand. Your loss, Mr. Calsin. If you’d been bothered to put in a little effort, you could’ve had the nicer car. I’d asked for the family car. You gave me the junker.”
The waitress brought me a daiquiri, and a single sip confirmed it was light on the alcohol. Damn it. I shouldn’t have been surprised. “A vodka, please. Straight up, and make it a triple.”
The poor woman’s eyes widened, and she scurried off. Taking deep breaths, I set my drink aside. “Talk with your lawyer if you think you’re being short changed. I’ll be happy to confirm under angel-witnessed oath you interrupted my dinner wanting more money.”
Adken’s brows rose. “That’s my old Porsche? Who the hell did you rob to afford the mechanic?”
“I’m the mechanic.”
“You’re a mechanic?”
I shrugged. “I started as a mechanic’s secretary, and in the slow hours, he taught me how to fix my car. My car. Would you please leave? I’d like to enjoy my dinner in peace.”
To keep his over-sized ego from thinking I secretly wanted him to stick around, I stared out over the late lunch crowd enjoying the buffet. A flash of golden hair the match of mine drew my gaze. The hair went right along with the rest of my daughter, and I grabbed the daiquiri and drained the glass hoping my eyes were playing tricks on me.
Nope, they weren’t.
My daughter was enjoying her early dinner with a man closer to my age, and to add insult to injury, I couldn’t fault her choice. He was warm in all the ways Adken wasn’t, his dark hair the shade of rich forest soil, his skin tanned from time spent in the sun. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but Hestia seemed to like what she saw in them.
She’d grown up too fast.
“I offended you,” Adken stated.
“You being here offends me, Adken.”
My vodka arrived, and I waited long enough for the waitress to leave before slamming it back. I set the glass down, pulled out the gift card, and tossed it to his side of the table. Rising, I went to the register, paid, and gave the waitress extra on her tip for putting up with my ex. When Adken tried to follow, I closed the door on him and caught the first cab I saw, ordering the driver to take me to the airport.
I needed a ticket to get the hell out of town in a hurry, even if it was only for a night or two.
Chapter Four
Tomorrow I’d feel awful about not showing up for work, not returning home, and being jealous my daughter had managed to find someone to have Sunday dinner with. Who was I to judge?
I’d chosen to write men off. That wasn’t her fault. She was the damned goddess personifying hearth and home. It was her nature to need family, to cultivate families, and to build bonds with others. My jealousy stemmed from what I couldn’t have, and I knew it.
It wasn’t her fault she’d found the sort of man I’d think about spending the night with. I worried she’d fall into the same trap I had.
Then again, I couldn’t recall a single time I’d hung onto Adken’s every word. He’d promised the world to me, and I’d foolishly gawked at the luxuries the rich and famous enjoyed. He hadn’t delivered on any of his promises, and the instant Nolan had been born, I’d outlived my usefulness.
He’d gotten his son and no longer needed a trophy wife.
Instead of alcohol, I needed a shrink and a new life, but when I reached the airport, I bought a ticket to Las Vegas because it was cheap. I’d spend a few hours on the strip and find some dump hotel for a few days. No one would notice one more washed out single mom in the crowd.
I hated being right. No one noticed me at all. A few glanced my way when Lady Fortune smiled at me, and no one cared when she turned her back on me.
Feeding the slot machines a penny at a time, with the occasional forays to the quarter machines, kept the free alcohol flowing, and I drank until I needed my driver’s license to remind me who I was, which confirmed I’d dumped Adken’s name for a fake one at the cost of a thousand dollars.
For a whole week, I hid in plain sight, cycling between drunk and hungover. Even Lady Fortune pitied me, paying for my breakdown and leaving enough left over to buy new clothes so I wouldn’t have to crawl home with a week’s worth of drunk funk clinging to me.
It took two days of misery to sober up, and I spent two more days engaging in a staring contest with my room’s phone.
I should’ve called my boss. I should’ve told Hestia I needed to get away for a while. I should’ve done a lot of things. When she’d still been my little baby, I’d had a renewed purpose in life. She’d been my reason for getting up in the morning, arriving in the world just as I’d hit rock bottom.
She was living proof miracles could happen, and that even my meager magic, a minimal perception of fire and a knack for knowing when it would rain, could work wonders.
Two weeks after abandoning everything and leaving town, I worked up the courage to return home. I paid for my stay with my winnings, and I stood in line for a cab to the airport, sacrificing another twenty for the fare.
Lady Fortune turned her back on me in the worst way after I arrived at the airport; Adken noticed me at the same time recognition punched me in the gut. His smile chilled me. Nothing in the restraining order prevented him from running into me in another state.
I’d been so, so stupid.
“Excellent. You ran away to Vegas, just like I thought y
ou would. What good luck for me.” Adken closed the distance between us, and before I could flinch away, he took hold of my hand and brought it to his lips. “Tell me, Dakota. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? I’ll take us there.”
Before I could voice my desire to see us both rot in the darkest pit of hell I could find, my skin tingled where he touched me. My tongue felt thick and unwieldy in my mouth, which opened as though to say something, but no sound emerged.
“Don’t hesitate, darling. Anywhere you want. You used to tell me you wanted to see Paris all those times I had to go alone. How about the Swiss Alps? You like the snow. Ah, I know. I’ll take you to Java. You wanted to see the blue volcano, didn’t you?”
I wanted to turn tail and run, but my body betrayed me. Adken tugged on my hand, and my feet carried me closer.
“That’s right. You’ve always wanted to see the world. I’ll show it to you. Don’t worry. No one will miss you. I sent a friend to tell that old geezer you work for a very important family matter has come up. You’ll thank me later. Come with me. I have a private jet waiting for us. I’m just glad I found you. I was beginning to worry I’d missed you somehow.”
My body betrayed me again, and I stepped into Adken’s embrace.
He laughed. I went numb, my body a puppet in his controlling hands. The fuzziness crept up my arm, and when it reached my head, it smothered me in cottony oblivion, imprisoning me in the silent dark.
I wanted to hug and kiss the clumsy idiot who knocked me down the steps. The tumble hurt like hell, but thanks to Adken’s talent, whatever the hell it was, I remained limp. I sprawled on the landing, blinking while I struggled to piece together what had happened and why.
A pair of scuffed, black shoes stepped into view, matched with a pair of dark blue slacks. A moment later, someone touched my throat.
At the rate my heart pounded, I expected to have a heart attack. Adken’s magic choked off my breath, silencing me when I needed to speak the most. I’d throw away every shred of my dignity to ensure I didn’t have to go with Adken.
“Lie still, ma’am. Does anything hurt?” a man asked, his tone soft and gentle.
What didn’t? I fought my tongue, which refused to obey me, although I choked out a whimper.
“Ambulance,” he barked, and someone distant acknowledge his command. “Request a vampire; there’s an enthrallment in place too strong for me to break without hurting her. I can’t tell if there’s an underlying beguilement or not. It’s a sloppy job. I hate sloppy jobs. Dangerous, stupid dick!”
Someone replied, but I couldn’t make sense of the words, nor would my eyes focus on anything other than the blue slacks and well-worn shoes.
Oxfords, no brocade. Professional but practical, and definitely not the sort of shoe Adken would wear. If I had to judge the man by his clothes, I’d peg him as a cop of some sort, happily married and hard working. His shoes had been places, but their owner hadn’t discarded them for being scuffed.
I really needed to make an appointment for a therapist when I finally found my way home.
“Find out who he is, where he’s going, and for fuck’s sake, ground the outgoing planes! Don’t just stand there looking pretty, Simon.”
While I managed to swallow, my tongue refused to obey. The instant I could talk, I’d tell my new best friend in worn-out shoes who Adken was, right along with the number for my restraining order.
Outside of California, it wouldn’t do me much good, but I’d tell him anyway.
Someone spoke again, the words jumbled, as though my brain refused to process anything other than what my friend in oxfords had to say.
“I can’t tell if anything’s broken. I’m fairly certain it’s some form of paralysis, but her aura’s a mess, so I can’t make out much.”
All of me was a mess. Frustration drove me into making another attempt at ratting out my ex. “Adken,” I choked out.
“Hold on. She’s trying to say something. Try again, ma’am.”
“The bastard’s name is Adken Calsin,” my daughter announced, her voice trembling from fury. “That’s my mother he bewitched!”
Damn it. An angry Hestia really would wreak havoc if I didn’t stop her. “Hestia,” I rebuked.
“Mom? Are you all right? What did he do to you? I’m sorry! It’s my fault. I’m a terrible daughter.”
How wonderful. I’d barely dodged being kidnapped by my ex, and my divine daughter wanted to take the blame for my midlife crisis. I coerced my tongue into cooperating enough to say, “Don’t make me put you in time out. I fell down some steps—”
“Got beguiled by the evil sperm donor,” she snarled.
I couldn’t force myself to correct her. “What’s the difference between bewitched and beguiled?”
The man with the scuffed oxfords chuckled. “You’ve gotten a dose of both, ma’am. Is Adken Calsin the white male who’d been with you?”
“Yes,” I replied, wiggling my fingers and toes to confirm they still worked. They did. “I have a restraining order against him, issued in Santa Clara, California.”
“Confirm it,” he ordered, to someone else, as far as I could tell.
“Her name is Dakota Pamelle.” Hestia gave them my address, and to add to my discomfort, she gave them the restraining order number. “She disappeared two weeks ago after he showed up causing trouble.”
Uh oh. Hestia must have spotted me at the restaurant. “You should be proud of me. I didn’t break my glass over his head,” I slurred.
Not good. Why was I slurring? I hadn’t had anything to drink for four whole days.
“Mom?” Worry laced my daughter’s voice, and her uncertainty reminded me she was a child in so many ways. “What’s wrong with my mom?”
“Could be the magic or the fall. Don’t worry, your mom’s going to be just fine. She’s in good hands, so let us do our job.”
For perhaps the first time in her life, Hestia did as she was told without question.
A concussion took the blame for my slurring, and once the doctors confirmed I wasn’t suffering from internal bleeding, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention called in a vampire to remove all traces of Adken’s magic.
The ageless woman bit me near my elbow, a place that should’ve had few nerves, but the pain was still so intense I fainted. When I jerked awake, my tongue cooperated, and my body felt lighter. Something in my head had changed, too, although I couldn’t tell what. I hadn’t been unconscious long; the nurse wrapped my arm while the vampire licked my blood off her lips.
“There were several older persuasions,” the vampire announced, her attention on the doctor loitering by the door. “They’re gone, along with both newer enchantments. The newer ones were high-grade puppeteer talent work. The older ones were the nasty ones. One was a suppressor, and the other was designed to make Miss Pamelle easy to manipulate. The signatures matched for all of them.”
Given a single chance, I really would kill Adken. “What’s a suppressor?”
The vampire chuckled and displayed her fangs, which were still stained red. “You’re resilient. Excellent. I was expecting at least ten more minutes before you were coherent. Have you doubted your worth? Questioned your choices? Sought approval from people you otherwise wouldn’t? Suffered from depression? Felt like you might be the problem, no matter what you do? Had trouble accepting compliments?”
I flinched at her questions. “Sometimes.”
“A suppressor is a form of beguilement designed to create an emotional dependency on the caster.” The undead offered me a grim smile. “That you weren’t licking his shoes whenever you were in the same room with him is impressive. I’ll have a talk with the CDC rep here, and he’ll take care of the rest. Suppressions like yours are handled with care. You’re in for an interesting few weeks.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but before I could ask what she meant, the vampire left. The nurse sighed. “She’s not bad for a blood sucker. She bites shallow, and she doesn’t
take much for her fee. Still, you’ll be here overnight for observation. Don’t you mind her and the CDC rep. Until Dr. Kensington is satisfied with your condition, you won’t be bothered. I’ll leave you and the doctor to discuss it. He’ll take care of you, so don’t worry about a thing.”
The instant the nurse left, Dr. Kensington stepped to my side, pulled up a stool, and sat. “Because of your circumstances, I’m going to bar any visitations until tomorrow. I’m going to have you undergo a complete set of tests and have ordered a full evaluation of your mental health, emotional wellbeing, and your personal and work histories. I know it’s invasive, but it’s important we verify how influenced you’ve been by the suppression and other beguilements.”
“All right.”
True to his word, he ran me through a long gauntlet of tests to evaluate my health and temperament. I endured, and I questioned everything, as did Dr. Kensington.
We agreed on one thing: had I been in my right mind, I never would’ve gone to Las Vegas, which worked in my favor. It meant I had a legal case against Adken, as the triggering violation of his restraining order occurred where the court order was valid.
Since killing him was off the table, I’d have to be satisfied with the slow, painful death of his reputation. Murder still topped my wish list, but I’d have to be satisfied with what I could get.
Midafternoon the following day, the hospital discharged me, and to my delight, the bill went straight to Adken, payable immediately. I smiled all the way through the tedium of discharge paperwork, and I was still smiling when I headed for the doors to freedom.
I faltered when I found my daughter waiting outside with her companion from the Indian buffet. While he wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, an up-close look confirmed he checked off every last one of my boxes for a man to turn my head. Even his eyes were my dream color, a dark green streaked with blue.
To my dismay, his arms promised strength without the harder lines of a body builder, blending being fit with a softer lifestyle.
Great. I wanted to steal the man my daughter had spotted first. I kissed my Mother of the Year award goodbye.