A Match Made in Spell (Fate Weaver Book 1)

by ReGina Welling

  If I didn't have to tend the Balefire, I could take a trip. See the world. Be gone longer than a week and not worry about keeping the home fires burning. Let Serena deal with the parade of witches coming to thrust their twigs into the fire.

  Never mind a trip, I could sell the house and move someplace new. Somewhere where no one knew my name or any of the shameful details of my past. The idea of a fresh start was briefly appealing--before my sense of family pride kicked back in.

  Yeah, my grandmother was a murderous witch. Yeah, my mother had a reputation for being wild. So what? I don't come from boring people, but I do my best to bring happiness to others. Call it atonement, call it my gift, call it George. I really didn't care. Serena would take the Balefire over my dead body.

  ***

  After the dustup with Serena, the dog-faced witch, I decided to blow off my plans for the evening and go home early. Another part of my job includes running recon on client matches to figure out the best scenario for a meeting. Over the years, I've worked at perfecting the meet-cute. After all, these are the stories my clients will tell their grandchildren, and I'd bet half my shoe collection most of them won't include making a call to a matchmaker.

  That being the case, I've pulled off some doozies. Bar meetings are classic if a bit boring. For my sports-minded clients, I've practically sold my soul to secure adjoining seats at the big game. One time I shoved a client right into the lap of her intended, who was just trying to enjoy his coffee and donut. It could have gone horribly wrong, but I still rate that one right up there in my top ten. Number one has to be the horseback ride on the beach meeting, though. That one took a hefty fee to a horse trainer and the cooperation of the stable owner. Still, it was spectacular in the end.

  Today, my mind wasn't on scoping out Mona's intended to arrange something special. All I wanted to do was go home, pull a pillow over my head, and scream out my frustration.

  That was why, when I normally would have stomped right past Clara's rock-hewn form, I stopped and gave her a piece of my mind.

  "I hope you're happy, with your stone face and your stone hair, and now I don't have a mother or a grandmother, and Serena wants to take the only thing I have left," I rambled. "What if Terra hadn't heard me crying? You think of that when you were all pissed off and throwing the magics around? No, you didn't."

  We witches are a stoic lot. Crying is for sissies, which is why I wasn't doing it. Not even a little.

  "Did you ever think I might need my family? My real family. But no, you just had your little temper tantrum and burned my life to the ground." Swinging my arm to make a point brought my hand into contact with one of the wickedly sharp thorns flanking velvet red petals. Blood welled from the puncture, and I watched with detached fascination as a single drop grew until it trembled and slid around the curve of my finger to hover and then fall. Right onto my grandmother's bare stone foot.

  For the space between two heartbeats, the world stilled.

  "Now look what you've done." I drew the sore tip of my finger into my mouth to suck on the tender flesh. Why do we do that? It's an odd instinct. With that thought in my mind, I turned away from my grandmother's burning gaze and went home.

  Chapter Five

  It's rare in my business to get a twofer, but sometimes the fates smile. Driven, an up and coming nightclub had started hosting open mic nights on Wednesdays as their version of a hump day pick-me-up. Apparently, tonight, Driven was the place to see and be seen, because I got the tingle while I did my daily meditation with my client list.

  Mona and my newest lovelorn soul, an earnest young man named Tom, joined me at FootSwept for an impromptu excursion.

  "What am I supposed to do, again?" Tom shoved dark-rimmed glasses back into place. Behind the lenses, his eyes were a lovely shade of baby blue and framed by a thick fringe of lashes.

  "Just have fun and follow my lead. Trust me, okay?" I rubbed a soothing hand down his arm; the poor thing was almost vibrating with anticipation. He rewarded my solicitous behavior with a face-transforming smile. The right woman would peel him like a grape--shuck off that nerdy exterior and find the prize inside the Cracker Jack box. Without the glasses, and with his dark hair mussed up a little, he would turn into the total package. Underneath all the nervous tics and uncertainty beat the heart of a lion. All he needed was the right woman to see it.

  "You should, you know. Trust her, I mean. Going out with Lexi is the best. It's worth twice her fee just for the experience." Mona's assertion worried me a bit. I know life's supposed to be all about the journey, but I only get paid at the end of the trip. On the way out, I hit the button under my desk. Flix would find me wherever I was, and something told me I'd need the backup.

  Mona practically danced the three blocks to Driven. Sweet girl, but all it took was a makeover and a bit of light flirting to turn her into a party monster. We elbowed our way to the bar where I paused to take stock of the packed room.

  Extra tables crowded with chattering women filled the area where the dance floor bordered a small stage. Total chick fest. My gaze landed on the chalkboard listing the roster of acts and scanned it for the presence of male erotic dancers, which might explain the gender imbalance. Nothing.

  One name on the list sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember why. Kin Clark. I juggled through my recent memories to put a face to the name. In a few seconds, it came to me. My new neighbor. I wondered what his act would be as I decided that tonight was probably not the best night for arranging a romantic first encounter for either Mona or Tom. The place felt too crowded, too amped up for what I had in mind.

  Call me a romantic, but I love the idea of giving my couples a fun story of how they met. Just because one of them had asked for my help didn't mean that I wanted to figure highly in their history. Most people only need a little confidence and a nudge in the right direction.

  "Hey Lexi, the usual?" Carlos poured cranberry juice into tonic water and added a twist of lemon. Alcohol dulled my romantic radar, so I don't partake during working excursions. I gave him the subtle sign that Tom and Mona's drinks would be on my tab.

  "Busy tonight." An epic understatement to which Carlos responded with a huge grin while filling more drink orders.

  "Is he here yet?" Mona tried to keep a low profile as she scanned the room. That secret place inside me that tuned in to locate a perfect match opened up just enough to overwhelm me with what she was feeling. An onslaught of trepidation equaled by a sense of eager anticipation rolled over me in a wave of conflicting confusion. I've heard it said that our worst fears and our deepest hopes are often the same.

  Mona was living proof of that theory. Her most desperate desire to be seen and loved scared her half to death because that which has been seen cannot be unseen, and Mona knew that living her dream meant baring her most vulnerable places. I think everyone feels that way, I've just never connected to a client that intensely before. I'm ashamed to say that I might not have taken parts of my job seriously enough in the past.

  I gave Mona's arm a squeeze and shifted my plan for her first encounter. Tonight would be my chance to have the matches in the same place, just to make sure my radar was functioning properly. Tomorrow, I'd work out a plan for bringing these couples together--one that Mona would never forget.

  "I'm not sure--it's busier than I expected. Is it okay if this doesn't happen tonight? It's so loud in here, I can't even think." Relief flooded Mona's face. This was a little too much for her. Besides, her intended was nowhere to be seen, even if I could feel his presence in the club. Maybe he was working backstage or something.

  Turning to ask Tom the same question, I found him gone. This is why I don't do multiples that often and when I do, I drag Flix along for support. It's a lot like herding kittens. Scanning the room I saw Tom almost immediately--Flix, as usual, was running late. Probably primping.

  Head bent low, Tom was engaged in an earnest conversation with the woman I had brought him there to meet. Just goes to show you that proximity is a
powerful thing. He glanced up and caught my grin. I gave him a nod and watched his eyes widen slightly. He swallowed hard, then treated his companion to a heart-stopping smile.

  The way my stomach flipped over at the sight of them told me my work with him was done. My gut always knows a good match when it sees one. Well, that didn't sound quite right, but you know what I mean.

  "Why don't we grab a table and listen to a couple of the acts?" With Mona requiring a more delicate meeting, it would help if I could get a look at her match ahead of time. Plus, I was curious to see Kin Clark's performance.

  "Are you kidding, the place is packed, we're not going to get a table."

  Did I mention I come here a lot? I held up two fingers for Carlos to see and nodded my head toward the far end of the bar. He gave me the high sign in return.

  "Follow me." I led Mona through the crowd and toward a spot near the corner of the stage where an empty two-top table about the size of a postage stamp had magically appeared--if you consider the dishwasher and bouncer dragging it from some shadowed corner as magical. Did I mention I matched the owner up with his financial partners in order to make his dream of opening Driven come true? My talents are not limited to romance, and now I get the VIP treatment. Tonight that meant a tiny table in the front corner of the room.

  My butt barely touched the seat when the spotlight picked out a lone figure standing on stage with a guitar. A shriek that should have cut glass erupted from the table to our right. You could have knocked me over with a breath when I recognized the screamer. Lemon, the almost Mrs. Tart, dressed in a bright yellow tube top and a skirt so short I doubted she could bend over without exposing London and France, bounced in her seat, her focus trained on the stage.

  I followed her gaze just as the spotlight softened enough to make out the man's face. Kin Clark played his fingers over the strings and half the place went wild. The female half. You'd have thought Elvis was making his triumphant, albeit spectral return, the way they were acting.

  Don't get me wrong, Kin sounded good, and he had all the moves down pat. A little wiggle and thrust of his hips against his guitar sent the women into a frenzy. At one point, he even turned around and gave the crowd a nice shot of his rear assets. Every twitch, every toss of his head sent screams rocketing toward the rafters.

  He was fun to watch and all. And I had found him attractive enough the night we met to make even my jaded heart go pitter-pat, but I wasn't feeling the compulsion to throw my panties on the stage. Lemon looked like she might faint, and I was beginning to wonder if Harry had been right about her. This was more than a simple fangirl episode.

  A disruption behind us drew my attention, and I sighed with relief as Flix made his way through the crowd, which, with a wave of his hand, parted like the red sea. He glanced from the commotion on stage and back to me. "These women have lost their minds," he muttered into my ear. "Isn't that Harry's fiancee?"

  "Yep. And if she doesn't stop jumping up and down she's going to be wearing that tube top as a belt." I snarked, unable to hide my disgust.

  I turned to Mona just in time to see her tongue dart across wet, glistening lips, her eyes following Kin's every move. "You, too?" Slumping back in my chair, I watched the spectacle play out. Halfway through his third and final song, Kin laid down the guitar to sing a capella. The house lights came up and he stepped off the stage to make his way around the first and second rows of tables, crooning straight to one lucky woman after another.

  As he got closer to where I sat, our eyes locked. He was even better looking than I remembered. He gave me a wink, then turned back toward the stage to strum out the final notes of the song. The place exploded with screaming applause while he walked off the stage.

  "Was that him?" Mona asked fervently. "Oh, I hope it was."

  "I'm sorry, but no. Look, we need to go, okay?" All I wanted to do was get Mona safely back into her car and send her home so I could slug down a couple aspirin against a headache brewing at my temples.

  "But I just got here," Flix whined and dragged the pressure in my head up another notch.

  "Well, you'd have been here earlier if you hadn't been combing each hair individually," I snapped at him. "Sorry, it's been a weird night."

  My apology went unheeded for a minute. Nightclubs bring out the predator in Flix. I think his fae half feeds off the energy and right now, I could see him drinking it in as his eyes roved over the crowd. He patted my arm, eager to immerse himself in the throng moving toward the dance floor where the bouncers were already clearing the extra tables. "I'm staying, okay hun?"

  "See you tomorrow," I said to his fleeing back.

  I shrugged at Mona's questioning look and we turned toward the door, but only managed about three steps before I felt someone grab my arm.

  "Lexi? I thought that was you. How's Salem?" Kin asked, guitar still in hand, his breath heavy with exertion.

  "Fine. He's fine. I didn't expect to see you here."

  "Oh, I gig all over town."

  He opened his mouth to elaborate when Mona practically drove her elbow through my ribs in her haste to introduce herself.

  "I'm Mona Katz," she purred and grasped Kin's hand like a drowning woman.

  "Nice to meet you." He glanced quickly at Mona and back at me. "Can I buy you a drink?" Kin asked while hastily stowing his guitar inside a battered case covered with band logos and old concert ticket stubs.

  "I'm not drinking tonight, and Mona and I were just leaving. It's good to see you again."

  "That's right. I have work in the morning. It was nice to meet you." Mona's voice returned to normal and she shook her head like she was coming out of a dream. " Lexi, you'll call me tomorrow?"

  Practically dragging her along behind me, I slipped out the side door and into the cooling night and assured her I would call her just as soon as I could. She scurried down the block to where her car was parked. Mind racing, I watched her pull away.

  "Don't tell me that was your ride home." Kin teased, coming up behind me.

  "Hmm? No, I walked. It's just..." I broke off. How was I going to explain her weird reaction to him? "Never mind. I'm sure I'll see you around the neighborhood."

  "At least let me take you home. My car's parked right over there."

  "I'll be fine." With three faeries only a frantic wish away, I was about as safe walking the streets of my city as I had been in my mother's womb. Safer probably. The wrath of faeries descending upon a hapless thug would be epic and instantaneous. Just ask Justin Watson, a third-grade bully who had cornered me in the playground so he could pull my hair. One second he was large and in charge, the next Terra appeared behind him and said boo. With a few sound effects added, mind you. Justin peed his pants and ran. Problem solved.

  "I won't. If I let you go wandering around the streets alone and something happens to you, I'll never forgive myself. I'll take to the bottle to soothe my self-loathing and before you know it, I'll be sleeping in a cardboard box and muttering about the night it all went wrong. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?"

  "You could be a crazed ax murderer who lures women into a false sense of safety so he can hack them up and hide the pieces in dumpsters."

  "I brought your cat home, didn't I? Besides, the only ax I know how to use has six strings. Death by guitar. I don't think so."

  I let him tough it out for a few more moments before nodding in agreement. A shiver ran up my spine and suddenly, I didn't want to walk home alone anymore. Or have to explain to the faeries why I needed an escort. They'd never let me live it down. "You do live on my street. All right."

  "Excellent." He led me down the block and stopped next to a shiny black, vintage car.

  "That's pretty, what is it exactly?"

  Kin grinned from ear to ear. "A '67 Chevy Corvette. Last year they made them in this style. My dad and I spent my teen years fixing her up, and he gave her to me for my college graduation. Sweet, huh?"

  "Definitely. What's her name?" I went on a hunch. Any guy who
refers to his car with a gender-specific pronoun usually has a special name for it.

  Kin laughed easily, an infectious, hearty sound that coaxed a grin from my own lips. "I call her Betty. Well, actually, my dad named her that, after Betty White. I'm not sure why, but he had a huge thing for her."

  "How old is your dad?" I asked. Maybe he had a bunch of older brothers and sisters.

  "Not that old, which is why I keep calling her that. It cracks me up every time I think about it. Now, Lexi Balefire, tell me something about you. So far I know you're a cat person; you've got a really cool last name; and an in at one of my favorite clubs. Oh, and you have some pretty interesting roommates. You know they danced around barefoot on the lawn during that thunder shower the other day?"

  Sounded about right to me, faeries love wild weather.

  Cut right to the part where I can't reveal everything about myself. Usually, it didn't bother me, because by the time we reached that point I already knew who the guy's soul mate was and that there wasn't any future anyway. With Kin, it was the first time I didn't get any vibe at all. So either this guy had no soul, or he was doomed to wander the earth without a mate. Maybe we were perfect for each other.

  "Well, I run FootSwept Matchmaking. What you saw tonight was part of my work. That's why I wasn't drinking. Though I could sure use one now. Long day. Sometimes people just don't want to take the easy path toward happiness."

  "You actually go out to get drinks with your clients? I'm impressed. Most dating services are all technologically advanced; you have to tell them every minute detail of your life and then they run some algorithm to see who you're compatible with."

  I stared straight ahead and deadpanned, "You seem to know a lot about it..."

  "Hey, you can't make fun of me! I'm very unlucky in love, and a couple of years ago a friend dragged me along to his appointment. I went on about three dates and that was as much as I could take."