The Clumsy Clairvoyant

by S. E. Babin

  I quickly looked away. Again. If she were a vamp, I had to be really careful.

  The waitress came back with our food which gave me something else other than the perfection of Lucas' date to focus on. I snapped my napkin across my lap and dug in.

  I didn't hear anything from Chuck's side of the table so I glanced up only to see his hands clasped together, his eyes closed, and his lips moving in what appeared to be a fervent prayer.

  I slowly set my fork down and chewed like a Beaver given a buffet of delicious wood so I could swallow before he looked up.

  I was such a jerk. Very few people in this town were religious, but that didn't mean we didn't have churches or places of worship.

  It felt like forever when Chuck finally blinked and adjusted his own napkin.

  "Amen!" I said cheerily.

  Chuck didn't look amused, especially when he waved his index finger over his lip, inferring I had food on my mouth.

  I swiped it off with a napkin and gave him a sheepish smile.

  Crap.

  Chuck ate like I imagined he had sex - carefully and methodically. Four cuts per piece of meat, careful wiping of any extra sauce on the side of the plate, a cautious lift to the mouth, and at least ten chews per piece.

  I assumed it was for proper digestion. Or maybe just an extra way for me to want to claw my eyes out.

  Considering Chuck wasn't talking much, I was going to go out on a limb here and say I wasn't his dream date either.

  I took another massive bite of food so I wouldn't be tempted to make awkward conversation.

  My eyes drifted back over to Lucas and his date. I opened up my powers just a teensy, tiny bit.

  It was terribly stupid of me.

  I inhaled a piece of chicken so hard I bent over double coughing and retching. Once I finished and inhaled quite a bit of water, I tossed my napkin down, grabbed my purse, and excused myself from the table. I could feel my face and could only imagine how beet red it was. I pushed out through the doors and made my way to my car.

  When I got in and finally felt like I was safe, I put my head on my steering wheel and howled in embarrassment.

  I'd never before used my powers for something so utterly stupid.

  His date was going to have quite the athletic night.

  Lucas, for that matter, was going to as well.

  I would never get the image of enormous breasts and Lucas' blond head hovering over them out of my head for as long as I lived.

  I was a grade A tool.

  Letting out a shaky sigh, I did my best to banish thoughts of sex out of my head. I'd send Chuck some money to cover the date. Or I'd just call the restaurant when I got home and cover my part.

  Portia was going to murder me.

  I started the car.

  10

  Lucas

  I watched as Grace Banner blanched, gagged, and rushed out of the restaurant like her pants were on fire. Concerned, I excused myself from the voluptuous but utterly vapid Russian date one of my idiot brothers had set me up with. She nodded, her big blue eyes totally confused. I sighed, set my napkin down and rushed outside after Grace.

  She was almost running to her car. I stayed close, but stalled when she got in and rested her head on the steering wheel. Whatever had happened took it out of her. I growled when I thought about the man she'd been with. If he'd done anything to insult her, I'd kill him.

  I stepped over to the car and tapped on her window. She jerked and let out a squeak of alarm. When she saw who it was, I could see the very real war in her expression.

  I seemed to be the last person she wanted to talk with.

  Interesting.

  I made the motion to roll her window down. I wasn't sure why. Old age. No one had manual window controls anymore.

  But she did. After a moment of contemplation. I watched as she schooled her expression into neutrality.

  "Lucas!" she said, pretending to be surprised and doing a terrible job.

  I leaned one arm on the roof of her car and leaned in. "Hey there, Grace. Everything okay?"

  She gave me a brilliant smile. "Of course it is! Why do you ask?"

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. "You looked like someone pulled the fire alarm."

  Grace held up her cell phone. "A call," she blurted. "I got a call I had to take."

  She hadn't been on her phone at all when she had gone outside.

  "Uh huh."

  "I'm serious!"

  "Uh huh. Why don't you tell me what really happened?"

  Grace's face went thunderous. She started to power up the window. "Bugger off!" she yelled at me, but just before the window shut all the way she screamed something else.

  It sounded suspiciously like "And wear protection, you man whore!"

  I almost fell when she accelerated out of the parking lot like her pants were on fire.

  Curious. Why in the world would she tell me to wear protection? Unless... A wide grin split my face and I chuckled all the way back inside.

  The Russian whose name I'd forgotten several times already stared. I noticed she'd helped herself to another glass of wine.

  "I'm so sorry. I'm going to have to take you home after this. Something came up."

  Her face fell. "No make love?"

  Making love was the absolute last thing on my mind when it came to a woman like her. I cleared my throat. "No. No making love," I said an emphasized that by making a crossed hands gesture.

  "Hmph," she said in her thick accent. "You do not know what you're missing."

  I knew exactly was I was missing and who was to blame for it. Freaking Grace Branner. When we finished our meals, I escorted the Russian back to my car and noticed she was wobbling in her four inch heels. Why women wore those things outside of the bedroom I would never know. I poured her into the car, listened with patience to her giggling and broken English about all the dirty things I could do to her, and drove her home as quickly as I could.

  I went to bed annoyed and thinking of all the creative ways I could strangle that pain in the ass clairvoyant.

  I woke up the next morning with a plan. I hadn't thought much more into what Grace could have seen other than the obvious - me getting sweaty with that Russian. I still couldn't remember her name, but I figured it was probably Svetlana. Weren't they all named something like that? Anyhow, as I lay in bed thinking of creative ways to murder Grace, my thoughts took a dark path and I began to wonder what else she saw when she'd taken a forbidden peek at my future.

  So I came up with an idea. Having a clairvoyant around would be handy. Plus, I knew her well enough to know she didn't take using her powers lightly. My brother told me what happened when he went to visit her, but from what I could gather, that was a rare occurrence and she couldn't remember much of it once it was over. I also knew she never delved into someone's future unless they asked her to. Which made last night even more curious.

  The best way to keep a handle on Grace was to keep her close. I slid out of bed and jumped into the shower. I had a plan. It wasn't a very nice one, but it would keep Grace out of my head. As the spray of water hit me, I smiled. It was going to be a good day.

  I went back into the Comey sister's shop. The last time I'd been here for a privacy charm, but this time I was here for something a little more unorthodox. As soon as I walked in, an enormous black-haired witch with tattoos gave me the eyeball. I found all of the sisters at least a little unnerving, but this one gave me the heebs. She had a power signature that made my skin itch, and I felt like if I ever pissed her off I would be done for this world. Morgana Comey watched me like a snake watches prey. I made my way over to her and put on a confident swagger. I couldn't be blamed if my swagger staggered a bit when she rolled her eyes at me.

  "You're here asking for a lot of trouble, Lucas Marsh," she said, before I even told her what I was here for.

  "I live for trouble," I told her. "The question is, can you do it?"

  Morgana snorted. "The last person who asked me that got a permanent j
ob as a planter back in our herb nursery."

  My heart didn't beat very fast because I was an undead, but I got two quick beats out of it with that statement.

  "We can do anything. The question is, should we? And," her eyes glittered, "can you pay for it?"

  I thought about all the money I'd saved when Helen refused to let me pay. I would have still been able to afford it even without that money, but it would have hurt a little bit. "I can pay."

  Morgana gave me a long look. "So the question now is should we?" She leaned forward on the desk holding up the register. Her tattoos stood out in stark vivid colors against the pale tone of her skin. "What kind of game are you playing with this girl, Lucas?"

  "A gentleman never tells."

  "A gentleman doesn't show up to a wolf's den with a dental toolkit either, and yet here you are."

  I blinked at her imagery. And then thought about wolf fangs, and I had to rapidly blink to get that image out of my head. Morgana was terrifying.

  She rattled off a price that was equally terrifying. I let out a sharp breath, narrowed my gaze, and counter-offered.

  Her tinkling laugh caught me off guard. She tilted my chin up with a nail sharp enough to make me wonder about how long I had left to live. "Oh, you're adorable," she cooed. "Thinking you can come in here and bargain with me for my services." She bared her broad, white teeth, and I stared into her deep eyes. "Just for that, the price is double." She let go of my chin, but not before she drew a deep, red drop of blood from it. I watched as the ruby drop balanced perfectly on her nail. Morgana snagged a small amber dram and tipped the drop into the bottle and sealed it with magic.

  I swallowed hard.

  "Still want to bargain with me, vampire?"

  My head moved of its own volition into a sharp shake.

  "Good boy. Cash or charge?"

  I walked out of Morgana's shop feeling both emasculated and terrified, and also holding something that cost me even more than Helen wanted to charge me for her services. I held the bag out from my side as if terrified I was going to drop and ruin it. Once I got into my car, I let out a slow, deep breath and reached under my chin to heal the nick Morgana inflicted with her nail.

  That bitch was the scariest thing I'd ever seen in my life, and I was immortal.

  Why she'd settled here was beyond me, but the world was a safer place without Morgana in it. After today I was convinced she could conquer the world if she ever really set her mind to it.

  I set the bag on the passenger seat and headed over to Grace's house. On the drive there, I did my best to settle my nerves, but I suspected I was going to be rattled for quite a while.

  11

  Grace

  Portia was, in fact, very pissed off at me for ruining the date with Chuck. Our conversation had gone something like this:

  Me: Chuck was boring.

  Portia: You need boring because you're a hot fucking volatile mess!

  Me: That's rude, Portia.

  Portia: No. That's fact!

  Me: Well. At least make him handsome and boring.

  Portia: ...

  She'd made me pay for it handsomely. Over the last week, I'd been on three horrific dates with people handpicked by Portia. A funny thing happened, though. I noticed every time I had to go on a terrible date, my clumsiness got worse. On the first date, I bruised my thigh when I brushed too close to another diner's table, resulting in me shouting obscenities fit for a Navy battleship, and spilling the couple's wine right when he was about to propose.

  The second date ended with me sporting a tremendous shiner when my date (who was freakishly tall) moved into put his arm around me. I'd taken an elbow right to the cheekbone and ended up in the hospital high on painkillers. Needless to say, I didn't call him back either.

  The third date was slightly better, but the conversation wasn't what you would call scintillating. He spoke in a monotone reminiscent of serial killers or, even worse, robocalls. But, he was attractive and could hold a conversation without any weird and awkward pauses. But when he spoke about history, I couldn't tell if he was just genuinely numb or if he was passionate about anything because his voice had zero inflection. So I spent the entire night confused. It was almost like he'd gotten a Botox overdose in his voice box.

  However, these terrible dates did make me start writing in my journal, and I realized I kind of liked it. Not that I'd tell that Comey sister, but I found waking up with a positive attitude really helped set the tone of my day. Then ending it, I could see how it had gone wrong.

  My cell phone rang just as I was finishing up. I snagged it and pressed the answer button without checking to see who it was.

  "'Lo?"

  His warm baritone rolled across the line sending shivers up my spine and anger down to my toes. "Grace Banner. You're avoiding me."

  "It's a scientific fact that if you avoid the site of an outbreak you won't get sick."

  Lucas snorted.

  "Science, Lucas. That's what this is."

  "I've been by your house multiple times."

  "Unfortunately, science doesn't have a real explanation for stalking, besides the psychological aspects of it, but the law can explain that to you. I'll help that along if you keep showing up here."

  He sighed. "I've been trying to apologize to you for awhile now."

  "Your apology has been filed for future reference." I studied my nails and tried to still my too fast heartbeat.

  "One date, Grace," he said after a moment. "One single date. If you don't want to see me after that, I'll never darken your doorstep again."

  I sat up straighter. " Are you serious?"

  "As a heart attack. Or warm blood. Both are pretty serious."

  "First. Eww. Second...I accept your proposal. One date. I pick the place. The time. What you wear. What your facial hair looks like." I stopped to think. "What we eat. And our conversation topics."

  I could hear Lucas' amusement through the line. "That all sounds very...specific. But I agree."

  He agreed too quickly. Now I was suspicious. "Why do you keep pursuing me?"

  "You're interesting, Grace. And witty. I like a girl with a little spunk."

  Considering his prior Russian bombshell, I suspected his tastes ran more toward mail order brides, but whatever. "Hmm."

  "I've met all your requirements. I've agreed to your demands. One date."

  "You make this sound like a hostage situation."

  "You make it sound like you're trying a multimillion dollar case. The defense rests, Miss Banner." Tension crackled over the line. "Say yes."

  I was so going to regret this. "Fine."

  "No," Lucas said. "Yes. Say the word."

  "Yes," I growled.

  "Excellent. I'll pick you up at eight -"

  "Nope," I interrupted. "I'll send you an itinerary."

  I clicked off the line as soon as I heard Lucas' chuckle. This was going to be a disaster.

  But now I was intrigued. And suspicious. Possibly more intrigued than suspicious, but a good, healthy combo of both. Why was he still pursuing me? My phone had been blowing up for days with text messages from him. They were so damned witty, too. It made the nerd in me shriek in pain every time I deleted one of his quips without answering. Whenever I failed to answer something clever, he resorted to kindness and humility. Two more of my kryptonites. He claimed he made a mistake and that he wanted to fix it. But this time he sounded sincere. Like he wanted to apologize and no one put him up to it. So I wanted to believe him.

  And I knew he wanted me to believe it. So I got suspicious all over again.

  I've been a nervous wreck ever since my phone call with Lucas. Excitement warred with dread, turning me from a once confident woman into someone who can barely get a single sentence out correctly. I've managed to run into every single piece of furniture in my house so my legs looked like I'd sat there and allowed tiny children to punch them repeatedly. Journaling was helping, but it seemed like every time Lucas somehow managed to come back into my
life for any period of time, all of my progress fell to the wayside.

  However, I had decided to give him a chance. Even though I was still suspicious of his motives. This did not mean that I should snap off at the mouth at every given opportunity. It was going to be hard because it was basically my MO when he was around. I dug through my closet bemoaning the fact that I couldn't wear a dress because of my clumsiness until I finally found a cute pair of ankle pants and an off the shoulder pima cotton top. I dressed quickly and strapped on a pair of tall wedges so Lucas wouldn't loom so much over me.

  I slapped on a little makeup, tossed my hair into a ponytail and declared it good enough for the man who made me want to smack him every time he was around. A quick check of my cell told me it was twenty minutes before he was supposed to be here. I debated running into the kitchen and downing a couple of shots to calm my nerves, but I held fast and remembered that I was not a total hick. I was a strong, confident woman who didn't need booze to drown her troubles.

  But as soon as the doorbell rang, I was cursing myself for not rushing to the vodka as soon as I'd thought of it. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  I frowned as soon as I saw him because, like always, he looked stupidly handsome. He wore a pair of pale colored khakis, not enough to be a Don Johnson white, but enough to make him look dressed appropriately for the season. A pair of brown slip on shoes and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up completed the look. Lucas was relaxed, looking handsome as sin, and smirking at me.