by Tegan Maher
"Yes, please" Tempest replied as she finished off a chicken breast.
Bob laughed. "Little one, I don't know where you put it. You eat your weight in food a day."
She puffed herself up. "I'm a growing girl. It takes a lot of calories to keep Destiny out of trouble."
"Pht," I said, "You're growing all right. It about broke my back carrying you yesterday."
In truth, she hadn't gained a pound since she reached her full adult size, but Bob was right; she tore through the groceries. She'd eat sweets until she was sick, though.
"Just give her a sliver of each," I told Jolene. "We still have candy at the house, and I know she's going to get into it when we get home."
Tempe's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah. Chocolate-covered bacon."
By the time we finished eating, the sun was setting.
Full and content, I considered porting home, but figured I should walk off some of the calories. I made Tempest walk, too, and Colin walked with us.
I invited him to stay for a movie and told myself it was for extra security. That was partly true, because even though I had complete confidence in my abilities, these were angels. I was many things. Stupid wasn't one of them. Plus, the idea that strangers had tromped through my house made it feel off to me.
If I were honest with myself, though, I also wanted to spend a little more time with him.
I'd given him the option of choosing the movie, but he'd declined. He just kept telling me that whatever I wanted to watch was good with him.
"Fine," I said. "American Werewolf in London it is, then."
He groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me. That movie is almost singlehandedly responsible for why werewolves have to stay locked in the closet. It's the same as if I asked you to watch The Wizard of Oz. I changed my mind. I'll help pick the movie."
I laughed, because he was right. Don't get me wrong—I love me some Judy Garland, but there's no actress that could have made that movie good from a witch's standpoint. Plus, everybody knew the movie was cursed. Probably by a witch who'd read the script.
"So what about about Thor?" I asked.
"Let's settle on Avengers. Then we both have eye candy as well as action."
"Deal." I made some microwave popcorn and broke out the candy, then settled onto the one end of the couch while he claimed the other.
Tempest settled between us, a piece of chocolate-covered bacon in each hand, and we lost ourselves in gratuitous violence and destruction that wasn't aimed at me for a couple hours.
I'd drawn the line when Colin suggested sleeping on the couch. I had enough wards set on the place that, at the very least, I'd have enough warning to grab Tempe and port out if necessary. I was also ready to be alone. I needed to sort through my feelings and shove them in a box, at least until I figured out what his angle was.
He'd pulled his phone out of his pocket as he was leaving, and I'm not ashamed to admit I cast a quick eavesdropping spell. What I heard didn't instill much confidence.
A woman had picked up, and asked if he'd managed to get the job done.
"Not yet," he'd said, "I don't think she'd do it, no matter what we offered her. I think we may have misread her, and her brother has more influence than we'd thought."
"That's not your decision," the woman had answered. "Just do what we sent you there to do." She'd disconnected, and my heart had sunk. I ended the spell and closed my ward behind him.
"That didn't sound good," Tempe said as I closed the door and twisted the deadbolt. Not everybody had magic, and locks were just as effective against them as my wards were; maybe more.
"No, it didn't." I sighed and dropped onto the couch, wondering how he'd made it past my bullshit meter so completely.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I'D TOSSED AND TURNED most of the night, so when I dragged myself into the bathroom to get ready for work the next morning, I looked like death warmed over. I didn't feel much better.
I jumped in the shower and used some of Mila's mood-boosting shampoo. It smelled heavenly and did the trick. By the time I stepped out of the shower, I felt good and was ready to face the day.
As usual, people were already in the pool and on the beach when I got there. Bob was off, so I was serving and Dimitri was bartending for the day. That was kind of a good thing, because I could use the upbeat energy he brought. He was already slicing fruit and the bloody-mary mix was out.
I raised a brow. "Hair of the dog, or is somebody just starting early?"
"Hair of the dog, I think. Lila's out there and has more bags under her eyes than you do."
Scowling, I touched my face. "I don't have bags under my eyes." I should know, because that was yet another concoction Mila'd given me, and it had worked like a charm. Probably because it was one.
"You have some smudges," he said.
"Smudges aren't bags."
"They're baby bags," he said, handing me a couple slices of cucumber. "Here, put these on."
I tossed them back at him, along with a suggestion for what he could do with the ones he hadn't already sliced and put in the water cooler. That was another of his concoctions—cucumber-lime water. It wasn't horrible and a lot of people loved it, but I thought it was weird. As far as I was concerned, cucumbers were just pickles that hadn't been made yet.
After I took care of the paperwork from the day before, I went out to check on the guests. In addition to being acting manager, I was also waitressing. Blake needed to find somebody soon, because I wasn't interested in advancing my career.
My first stop was at the pool. It was designed in a T-shape, with a lounging ledge that went all the way around the deep end. One side of the T had a canopy drawn over it, which made it nice for anybody who wanted to be in the water, but couldn't or didn't want to be in the sun.
I set my tray on the table and stepped down onto the lounging ledge beside Lila, enjoying the feel of cool water on my feet.
"What's up, chica," I asked.
She took a sip from her bloody mary, but her heart wasn't in it.
"I'm about to give up on the whole man thing," she said.
Lila was an undine, which was a water nymph rumored to need a man to obtain a soul and achieve immortality. That was just an old wives tale perpetuated by mamas looking to keep their daughters out of trouble and get them properly married off.
However, it was also a common misconception that if the man cheated, he died. Well, it wasn't really a misconception so much as the method behind it was wrong. There was no major death woowoo behind it; nymphs just got super pissy when their men cheated, and sometimes it got out of hand.
I was pretty sure southern gals and undines played significant roles in starting the whole wrath of a woman scorned thing. However, it did tend to scare off potential suitors.
Stephanie, the Valkyrie I'd talked to the day Cass bit the big one, was sunbathing on a lounger a few feet over, just barely out of the shade. She put her hand over her eyes like a visor to block the sun. "What do you need a man for, anyway? I've never seen the draw."
Speaking of wrath of a woman scorned. Except a Valkyrie didn't really need to be scorned to rain down some wrath. It was just what they did.
"You know," Lila said, blushing.
"Oh," Stephanie said with a snort. "Just pick one up that appeals to you, then. You don't need to keep him."
"But I want one to love, and to love me back," the nymph said, stirring her drink.
"Then I don't know what to tell you," Stephanie said. "Long-term relationships really aren't my thing." She put her head back on the lounger and closed her eyes, withdrawing from the conversation.
I pulled in a deep breath and released it. What was it about love recently? First Stan, now Lila. Different points of view, true, but affairs of heart issues seemed to be the problem of the week.
"Look," I said. "The right guy will come along."
I offered up some of the options I'd given to Stan. She could transform into a humanesque form with legs and could even choose to liv
e on land if she wanted.
Thinking back to Blake, and the conversation I'd overheard Colin having the night before, I was kinda leaning in the same direction as Steph was, at least for the moment.
I pushed to my feet because frankly the conversation was depressing me.
I'd no sooner made it back to the bar than the alarm on my phone went off. Speaking of cheating men, it was time to go meet with Blake about the whole Lucy thing.
Even though I was wishing for some distraction to blow up that would give me a legitimate excuse to blow him off, it came in a form that made me wish I'd been more specific with my wish.
A bald dwarf dressed like an accountant was waiting at the bar with Dimitri, and pushed off the stool when I approached. He was several inches shorter than I was and looked like he'd smelled something dead.
"Destiny Maganti?" he asked.
I narrowed my eyes, unwilling to fess up to who I was to a stranger, given the events of the last few days. "Who's asking?"
"Dwight Nightingale, PCBI. I assume you are Ms. Maganti?" He flipped out his creds, and I examined them; they were real.
I huffed out a breath. "Yeah, I'm Destiny Maganti."
"Then you're under arrest for the murder of Cassiel, former Angel of Temperance. Please come with me."
A familiar voice sounded behind me, and my knees went weak with relief. "I'm Colin Moore, Ms. Maganti's attorney. From here on out, she'll be speaking through me, and I'll need to see what evidence you have against her."
Mr. Nightingale curled his lip. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss that."
"And I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist,” Colin replied, stepping in front of me. For once in my life, I was happy to zip it and let somebody else do the talking because I was afraid I was going to throw up.
"Very well then," Mr. Short and Snippy said. "We found traces of death essence in her home."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I PLOPPED BACKWARDS, and for once, something went my way. Dimitri was fast enough to see me toppling and made it over the bar in time to scoot a stool under me.
"What do you mean you found traces of death essence in my house? That's not possible," I said.
"Actually, it was in several different places," he said. "We found traces in your bathroom as well as on a dirty apron in your laundry basket."
"That's easy enough to explain," Colin said. "She cleaned up the mess after they took Cassiel away. She must have gotten it on her at that point."
"Or it could have leaked out of the vial into the pocket of the apron," he said. "It's up to the tribunal to decide. Until then, I'm going to have to insist that she come with me."
Colin held up one finger. "Before you take her anywhere, I need to make a phone call. Trust me—it would behoove you to allow me the latitude."
Nightingale heaved a disgusted sigh, but motioned for him to go ahead. "You have two minutes. I'm a busy man."
Colin pulled his phone out and slid through 'til he found the number he was looking for. Stuffing his finger into his ear, he walked to the other side of the bar out of hearing range.
I longed to know what he was saying and who he was saying it to, but didn't want to bite the hand that was feeding me by eavesdropping. Then I noticed Tempe sitting on a stool just a few feet from where he was at, her head tilted, listening.
He returned in less than his allotted time and smirked at the little troll—excuse me, dwarf—as the man's phone rang.
"You'll want to get that," Colin said, crossing his arms and smirking at the agent.
Just as Colin had, Nightingale turned away from us to answer his phone. He came back less than a minute later, and if looks could kill, Colin and I would both be goners.
"It seems you've been granted special treatment, Ms. Maganti. You're under house arrest until your trial; you're not to leave the resort."
He waved his hand and a golden band appeared around my ankle.
I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. I held out my ankle, examining the new piece of jewelry. "Do you have this in silver? Yellow gold really isn't my thing."
"No silver," Colin said. "Werewolf, remember?"
"Oh yeah,” I said, turning back to the agent. "White gold or titanium then?"
"Jest now, Ms. Maganti. The penalty for your crime is death." With that, he snapped his fingers and disappeared.
"You probably shouldn't have goaded him," Colin said.
I waved him off. I was more interested in learning who my benefactor was.
"So, who'd you call?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, but I'll be sure to pass on your gratitude," he replied.
Tempe's voice sounded in my head.
He didn't say any names. All he did was give them a brief rundown of the situation, and the woman on the other end said she'd take care of it.
Great. Even with an eavesdropping fox, I was still as clueless as I had been five minutes ago.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Michael. He didn't pick up, so I left a voicemail asking him to call me back. I also sent an 811 text. That was our code for, "Death isn't imminent, but I am in a world of shit.”
My next call was to Blake.
Where are you?" he snapped. "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."
"Yeah," I said. "About that. As much as I wanted to discuss your love life, I was in the process of being arrested for killing Cass."
"Discuss my ... wait, what?"
"Yeah, a Dwight Nightingale showed up to arrest me, but Colin somehow managed to get me house arrest instead. It seems when I cleaned up the mess after they took Cass away, I got some of the death essence on my apron."
He was silent for a minute. "They're supposed to go through me whenever there's any kind of issue at the resort."
"I just told you that I've been arrested for a crime punishable by death and you're takeaway is they left you out of the process?" It's a good thing I was talking to him on the phone rather than in person because he would have been in danger of being turned into a mosquito.
"It has nothing to do with ego, Destiny, and everything to do with proper representation. As an employee of the resort, you have access to a number of legal resources."
As usual, Colin was within hearing distance and eavesdropping. I'd get onto him, except in my experience, it was almost impossible to shame a werewolf. He pasted a bored expression on his face and twirled a finger in the air, making the big whoop gesture.
I thought about his connections to the angel world and couldn't decide if I was in good hands with him or not.
Margo's words drifted back through my head. When you have to make a choice, have faith.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and stepped off the ledge, hoping this was the situation she was referring to. "That's okay. Colin's got everything under control."
My new attorney and possible friend-maybe-more grinned and gave me a thumbs up.
Margo, you better be right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BLAKE OFFERED TO GIVE me the rest of the day off, but I figured working may help keep my mind off the possibility that I may be dead within a week. That's really not something I wanted to dwell on.
They'd set my tribunal hearing for exactly a week. Trials in the magical world followed the right to a speedy trial credo much better than in the human world, possibly because the process was streamlined with magic. Plus, on the whole, magical folks tended to commit fewer crimes for two reasons.
First, punishments on our side of things were no joke. They weren't intended to rehabilitate the criminal, so there was no mollycoddling. If you stole something, there was a real possibility you could lose a finger for the second offense. First offenses, if they were minor, were often given special consideration depending on the circumstances, but repeat offenders didn't get off with just a slap on the wrist, unless it was with a cat-o-nine.
Next, if you committed a crime and were busted by the human police, you ran the risk of outing the magical worl
d, or at the very least finding yourself unable to use your powers while you were locked up. Magical punishment for doing so was uber bad for doing that.
You know those cases of when people just die in their cells but there's no apparent cause? There's a cause.
Anyway, all of that was exactly what I was trying to avoid thinking about, so I trotted down to the water bar to check on a group of merfolks and sirens Dax and Amber had brought to celebrate a two-hundredth wedding anniversary. Those were always fun, because there were no fines for drunk driving and they couldn't drown. Since they were strictly off-limits to sharks and other predators, there was no real reason for them to hold back.
The only downside was that it wasn't unusual to be tipped in treasure rather than cash. Sometimes it was an old spoon that had a fancy design—merpeople were attracted to shiny things, and if they weren't familiar with land-dwelling currency, what was extremely valuable to them would end up a re-gift to another water dweller later.
However, there are many shiny things that do have value in the sea. I received three gold coins once that, thanks to time and wear, were just discs of gold. Those netted me a couple killer pairs of boots and were a nice addition to my nest egg, too.
"Hey Des!" Dax called. "Any updates? We haven't been up to the pool yet."
"Meh," I said, unwilling to rain on their parade. "It's not going as well as I'd hoped, but I have faith things will shake out the way they're supposed to."
"Atta girl," Amber said. "No need to borrow trouble. You're a good egg. They'll do the right thing." She gave me a conspiratorial glance and waggled her eyebrows. "Not that we were being nosy or anything, but we couldn't help but notice that a certain werewolf couldn't take his eyes off of you yesterday."
"Yeah," Roxi, the one celebrating her bicentennial anniversary said, "And rumor has it, there was almost some lip-locking going on after you pulled your boards out of the water."
I shook my head. The worst thing about the resort is that just because you thought you were alone didn't mean you were.