by S. E. Babin
My heartbeat sped up and my breath became rapid as I tried to unravel everything I was seeing. But the images got darker, more disturbing. The sky swirled with a purple storm. Magic. Deadly. And all around us, chasms were opening up and things were escaping.
A few moments later, I slumped over and fell. The last thing I heard was Helen Reaper's gasp of shock.
8
A few days later after recovering for my monumentally poor decision to tap into the heart of the town, I stopped into the shop of the Comey sisters, the most powerful witches in the town, and possibly the world. I promptly ran into a table, thankfully holding an extremely heavy planter, and banged my hip. With a wince and a hiss, I rubbed it and attempted to walk in a straight line over to the register, only to see a familiar broad back.
I was just about to turn on my heel and leave when my presence must have registered to him. He turned, stared for a moment, and his expression turned...odd. Wary almost. He stopped talking abruptly, put his wallet back into his pocket, and left the store.
I stared at his retreating back for awhile not sure if I should be pissed off or amused.
"Well, I should keep you around for the next time someone annoying comes in here," the woman at the register said.
"Ha. I'm pretty sure it's just the effect I have on him," I admitted.
The silver-haired woman gave me an appraising glance. "Perhaps," she said with a shrug. "How can I help you today?"
I looked around the store, but it was mostly empty. "I was wondering if you had something for clumsiness," I said, rapidly speaking as if I couldn't wait to get my secret shame out.
The woman tilted her head. "Mmm. Mind if I ask you some questions?"
"Guess not," I said. "If you think it would help, go for it."
"When is your clumsiness the worst?"
I thought about it. "When I'm nervous."
"Were you nervous walking in here?"
She'd seen me bang the table. "I guess so."
"And how long has this been happening?"
The flush started on my neck and crept up to burn my cheeks. I remembered the moment it started, but I didn't want to relive it.
"Ma'am?"
I looked around again. "I had a very embarrassing moment at my junior prom. It started then and has never abated."
"Would you like to elaborate?" she asked me. "Every little bit helps, especially if we need to make a potion."
My lips thinned. "Same story a lot of girls have. Someone asked me out on a dare and ditched me at the prom for someone prettier and more popular." Actually, it was a lot worse than that, and based upon the way the woman was staring at me, I think she knew it too.
She tossed her silvery hair and chewed on her lips. "I have a proposition for you." She reached under her register and pulled out a small notebook. "Take this. Spend five minutes per day writing down how you hope your day is going to go. Then spend five minutes per evening writing about your day, how it went, and what could have gone better. Do this for thirty days. If your clumsiness hasn't improved by then, I'll make you a potion for free and give you a two hundred dollar gift certificate to the shop."
It was an incredibly generous offer, but I had to admit it annoyed me. And then I got even more annoyed because I got annoyed at being asked to work for it. I reached over and plucked the book from her long fingers. "Fine," I said, doing my best not to sound pissed off. "I agree to your terms."
The witch smirked. "This isn't a gunfight. You don't have to agree to anything, darling."
With a sigh, I turned. "I'll be back in thirty days!"
"Will you?" she murmured to my back.
I tossed the journal in the passenger seat of my car and wanted to burn it. The odds were pretty good I'd forget about writing in this thing at all, but it was the least I could do when I had a chance to not only get the potion for free, but that much store credit. I'd have to set a reminder in my phone at a minimum, and maybe even write it on the dry erase board in the kitchen. But I would get it done.
I made it home in minimum time, despite the multiple times I'd stopped to glare at the journal sitting innocently on the seat. Right before I got out of my truck, I snagged it, shoved it in my purse, and told myself I'd remember it. And I also told myself I'd remember to set the reminder in my phone.
I probably wouldn't remember that either.
Once I was inside, I kicked off my shoes, tossed my purse on the foyer table and went immediately to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat.
I was just about to slap some mayo on the delicious bacon, avocado, ham and Havarti sandwich I'd made when my doorbell rang.
"Aaaargh," I muttered to myself. My stomach agreed with me by emitting a loud growl. I stalked to the door, pulled it open without bothering to see who was on the other side, and my mood got even worse.
Lucas Marsh stood there, looking deliciously handsome and holding a large bouquet of orange and pink flowers.
"Go away," I said. "I can't take any more of you or your ridiculous family."
"Grace."
I was about to shut the door in his face when it abruptly stilled no matter how I tried to shove it closed. "Jerk," I muttered. I didn't have any fancy schmancy vampire powers. Mine were all designed to instill maximum awkwardness in minimum time.
"Just...listen," he said, his voice an exasperated sigh.
"Will you let go of the door if I do?" I asked him.
"Yes."
"Fine."
The pressure on the door eased and I abruptly slammed it in his face.
Through the door I heard an annoyed huff of laughter. "I can break this if I need to," he shouted from behind it.
"I'll call the police!"
"I have convenient mind control powers."
"I'll give them all some tin foil!" I screeched through the door and sighed as I realized I'd lost the battle of wits.
I opened the door and glared at him. He leaned against the porch post, one hand in his pocket. "Tin foil?"
"Shut up," I said and held the door open for him to come in.
I offered him something to drink but he declined. He sat in my most comfortable chair and I glared at his back because I'd wanted to sit there.
Instead I chose the other chair, all the way across the room from him.
"So I guess we're going to have to communicate by shouting?" he asked, one blond eyebrow raised.
"Nothing new there," I quipped and pulled my feet up into a comfortable lounging position.
He sighed and rubbed the space between his brow as if I were giving him a headache.
I wasn't sure a vamp could get a headache, but if they could I hoped I was the cause of it.
"I've come here to my apologize."
I turned my head to look out the window. "Was that a...meteor? Is this the end of the world?"
"Super funny," Lucas growled.
"I don't accept your apology. Especially after your stupid brother showed up at my shop today!"
Lucas winced. "I also apologize about Colin. He believes he knows women, but he knows even less than I do."
"You both are idiots," I muttered. "He claims your a manwhore. Care to elaborate?"
Lucas shook his head. "If you aren't going to accept my apology, why should I bother?"
My nose flared. "You're a fucking tool," I said.
"And you, my darling, are an ice queen."
We glared at each other for longer than necessary.
"Are we through?" I asked after a moment.
"I really wish you would accept my apology. I acted foolish and immature and in a way that was totally unbecoming of myself and my family."
I wasn't so sure, especially after Colin had tried to convince me to continue dating his manwhore of a brother. But it was a decent apology.
"Why are you here? You didn't bother to apologize to me after the dinner. Or at any other time. A girl can't help but think there's something else going on here."
A slight flush hit his cheeks.
&
nbsp; "You were forced, weren't you?"
He looked away from me. "My brothers won't let me back into the house until I make amends."
Right. I struggled to tamp down the anger. Of course he wasn't here of his own free will. That would be magnanimous. Sweet. Remorseful. Lots of words that didn't describe Lucas Marsh.
"And the ditching me for dinner?" I didn't neglect to realize he'd glossed over that one.
It was his turn for his nostrils to flare. "I..."
"You left right after I said I was a clairvoyant."
"Yes, I did. But the timing was merely -" he paused then, searching for the right word. "Convenient."
I narrowed my gaze at him. "Okay. If you don't leave right now, I'll tell you the next five years of your future."
His eyes went a deep crimson red, full of rage, and he bared his teeth at me in a frightening hiss. A pop of air was the only thing to alert me he'd used his magic.
Lucas Marsh was gone.
Interesting. He was a man who was hiding something.
9
My cell phone had been ringing for two days. After Lucas left I'd fallen into a bit of a funk. This wasn't like me. I was more prone to cause an outrageous scene or bluster my way through things than fall into a depression. But my mind was still tangled up in Lucas. I was a bit of a jerk for not accepting his apology. Although his version and reason for an apology was total crap.
I tossed my cell phone across the room and heard it slap the wall. Good. Maybe that would shut it up for awhile.
You know what? I was in the right for calling him out about it. A genuine, remorseful apology could go a long way to making amends with someone.
He had the choice to do that and instead only chose to come to me when his back was against the wall and he couldn't get something he wanted.
What a selfish prick.
But a handsome one.
I sighed.
And witty too.
Now why couldn't he have shown the gentlemanly side of himself when he showed up? If he had I might not have looked too hard and realized he was here under duress.
"Craaaaaaaaap!" I yelled out and covered my face with my hands.
I stepped around the kitchen counter and went to hunt for my ringing cell phone. It was Portia. If she told me to keep pursuing Lucas I was going to punch her in her pretty face. I picked it up right after the ringing stopped, relieved to see the screen hadn't cracked, and punched the screen to redial her.
"Grace." Portia answered. She sounded really annoyed. I guess I would have too.
"Hi, Portia!" I tried to sound out of breath than like I'd been eating potato chips over my kitchen sink. "So busy! I'm so sorry I haven't gotten back to you."
"You have a date. 6 p.m. Wear something nice. Brush your hair."
I held my cell phone out and stared at it like it had just tried to bite me. "Errrm. What?"
"You heard me."
"This had better not be with Lucas."
I could practically hear the line vibrating with hostility. "No." Her voice was clipped. "I'm sure you've done enough damage there to sever that line."
"What?" I burst out. "I didn't do anything except not take his crap!"
Portia sighed. "Dear Grace, don't you understand that being in a relationship means sorting through the crap and setting aside the stuff you can deal with and trashing the rest? You don't go big at first, Grace. You go small."
"This is not the Super Bowl, Portia!"
"Isn't it?" she asked.
"No. No it is not. I am not six foot tall and overpaid. I'm tiny and angry and tired of people's crap."
A long suffering exhalation of breath came across the line. "You are trying my patience, Grace."
"You set me up with an idiot, Portia. A cute one, yes. But an idiot nonetheless."
"Maybe so," she admitted. "But if you had maybe given just a little bit more, you might have seen something special in Lucas Marsh."
I counted to five in my head. "Who's the guy?" I barked.
I could hear the smile in her voice. "His name is Chuck."
My eyes rolled of my own volition. "Like nerdy secret agent Chuck from the tv show, or nerdy computer salesman and no cool job Chuck?"
"Just be there and do your best not to get sassy."
"Sassy?! I was born sassy. You can't ask a leopard to change its spots."
"You are not a leopard. You're a lady who if she keeps talking will be single for the rest of her life!"
Dang. Portia was pissy today.
"Fine," I bit out. "Where?"
"Midnight Chuckles."
I suppressed a groan. It was the local comedy club and tonight was open mic. So not only did I have to go on a date with someone named Chuck, I had to watch town members fumble their way through sex jokes. "Sounds super," I said.
"Turn the dial up on that enthusiasm by about twenty five notches. Don't screw this up!"
The line clicked off.
"Chuck." I set down my phone. "Ten to one he's got a pocket protector and bad hair."
It was 6 p.m. I was starving, wearing Spanx, and I realized I had to pee. Totally inconvenient. I looked around for a suitable Chuck but didn't see anyone who fit the bill so I pushed my way into the club to find a restroom and possibly a table. It was already crowded, but there were still a few tables with a good view open. I waved at the hostess, asked if she could seat me and rattled off to her who I was meeting just in case he came in. As soon as she brought me to the table and sat the menu down, I left my sweater on the chair and rushed to the restroom.
When I came out, I saw the same hostess leading a tall gentleman right to my table. From the back, he was decent. Tall, a tad on the slim side. His suit didn't fit all the way properly and his pants were hemmed a little too long.
I began the walk to the table hoping to catch a glimpse of him before I was too close, but to no avail. I'd have to come up almost all the way to my seat to see what he looked like.
Squaring my shoulders, I slapped a smile on my face and as I turned the corner and could see his face, I felt it wobble a smidge. With a Herculean effort, I ignored the pocket protector protruding from chest pocket, and focused on his face.
He was perfectly nondescript. The kind of guy you'd see with an angry wife and kids running roughshod all over him. Perpetually tired and overworked, he seemed like maybe he was a kind man, but he probably played Dungeons and Dragons in his basement for fun.
I must not judge. I sat in my seat and smiled at him.
His average eyes widened. "Well hello!" He smiled wide and I noticed with some dismay that his two front teeth were not just crooked, they were involved in a deep ballroom dance, tangled together like forbidden lovers.
I smiled back, very conscious of my own teeth now and wishing I'd worn my braces retainer for more than two weeks after I'd finally gotten them off after two years. "Hello," I said and extended my hand over the table to him.
He took it and I tried not to cringe at the clamminess of it. I couldn't help myself. I judged people on hand sweat.
Maybe I am not cut out for dating. Maybe Portia is right. Maybe I was just too judgemental jerk.
Once I wiggled out of his clammy handshake, I studied the man again. His teeth might have been hopelessly crooked, but overall his smile was nice and he seemed to have a good disposition. There was something charming about him, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I was going to do my best to try to enjoy this date tonight. When the waitress came over I ordered something strong. I didn't say I wouldn't need a little help.
After we ordered and the waitress took our menus away, the conversation fell by the wayside and got a little bit awkward. This was not uncommon with a first date, but since I already had reservations about this, it was a little more difficult for me to try to come up with something to talk about. So Chuck thought he would fill the silence.
Normally this would have been a good idea, had he not started to talk about his one testicle. I was right in the middle of cutting
my shrimp appetizer, when he let this tidbit slip. I slowly turned a horror filled look up to my date. He, meanwhile, was cutting away at his own appetizer, completely unfazed by what he had said. I guess having a single testicle wasn't something to be considered weird, at least in his family.
I shook my head and did my best to slap a smile on my face. I only had about another hour before I could excuse myself from this date. I deftly switched the conversation away from his testicle, and back to normal things. Chuck told me he was a salesman in the local area. When I asked him what he sold, he hedged a little bit and looked away from me, so I was immediately suspicious. When I nudged, he admitted that he sold sex toys and did parties within the town of midnight Cove. This made the shrimp in my mouth curdle into a cold lump, and I wondered what else Chuck was hiding. I attempted to laugh it off, but I couldn't hide the tension in my voice. Even Chuck knew he had said too much.
I figured I had about another twenty minutes before my dinner arrived, and another ten before the show started. So I was stuck at least another thirty minutes trying to make conversation with this guy. I took a deep breath and told myself I could do anything.
But it was less than five minutes later when I happened to look over my shoulder and saw a sight I hoped to never see again. Lucas Marsh was sitting just a few tables over, with a gorgeous blond, their table littered with glasses. My heart beat picked up, pounding inside my chest, and my hands went clammy. So I guess it wasn’t just that he didn't want to date, it was that he didn't want to date me. A sour smile slid onto my face and I looked away before they felt someone staring at them. This was what I got for pining after someone who had zero interest in me.
Chuck noticed my gaze, and his flicked over to Lucas's area. “You know that guy?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I know him.” I didn’t want to go into too much detail on a first date. Well...last date, too, but Chuck didn’t know that. Yet.
Another quick glance over to his table revealed the woman he was with was way too pretty to be real. I wondered if she was a vampire. It was guaranteed, at least in this town, if you saw someone who looked too beautiful to be anything other than an illustration, odds were pretty high they were a vamp. She looked like a blond Jessica Rabbit. Her hair had Veronica Lake waves down to at least her waist. She was sitting down so it was hard to tell. Her face looked like it had been chiseled by an artist. Bright blue eyes were framed by eyelashes that were either fake or blessed by the gods. Blood red lips surrounded a wide perfect smile. Her perfectly manicured hands were curled around what looked to be a Cosmo.