by K. F. Breene
I watched her face change. Watched the emotion bleed through. Her lip started to tremble, and unshed tears shone in her eyes before she flicked her head and squared her shoulders.
She was hurting but trying to stay strong. Her embarrassment here was probably echoed in her social group. Man, that sucked.
“It’s mine,” Paul said, remorse dripping through each soggy word. “I thought we were careful. I always used protection. I never meant to hurt—”
“Can it, Paul, you lying, cheating, shithead bastard.” I held up my hand to him.
Knowing crossed the woman’s eyes. Her shoulders slumped. I nodded slowly.
Pain creased the lines on her forehead and between her brows. Her back threatened to bow from the heaviness on her shoulders. Her bearing, once purposeful and arrogant, crumpled into something frail.
“He was slime,” I said without thinking. “He was. And he knows it. He knew it when he stalked through the crowd to you. But listen to me…” Her eyes inched up to find mine, the strength in them gone. She was an asshole to magical people, but I still didn’t want her to go through life feeling worthless. I couldn’t, in good conscience, let someone suffer without trying to help. “When you thought of him, he came. When you called, he was pulled to you. He is attached to you. So whatever he was doing with that—likely small—dick of his”—Paul flinched, the no-good, rotten…—“his heart still belonged to you, for what it’s worth. He didn’t deserve you, but in his mind, you were his and he was yours.”
Her eyes held mine like a lifeline. She drank in every word.
“You have two choices,” I continued. “You can go home and call him again and then burn some of his stuff so he can see he’s definitely dead, or I can send him out of the world of the living. He’s ready to go, I can see it. Either way, he won’t be here much longer.”
“I need…” A stray tear broke free and rolled down her flushed cheek. “I need to burn his stuff?”
“No. You can just show him his death certificate or something, if you want. I just figured you’d want to burn something of his. I mean…I would. I’d create a bonfire out of that shit.”
“Just…” She shook her head and stood slowly. “Just send him away.”
“Sure. Any last words for him—” I held up my hand for Paul again. “Not you, dickface. You speak when you’re spoken to. You forfeited your right to niceties.”
She stared at me for a long time, and I thought she’d ask why he’d done it. Living or dead, it didn’t matter. Everyone always wanted to know why when they were cheated on. But she just shook her head.
“Since the car accident two years ago, all I’ve thought about is what I would say, what I would do, if I saw him again.” She shrugged. “He’s gone. We can’t work on it. We can’t fix this. He’s gone.” A tear wobbled at the edge of her eye. “I have to move on.”
Without another word, she walked away through the crowd, almost a phantom herself. It would take her a long time to recover, but at least now she could heal. That was the main thing. Hopefully someday she’d meet someone who was worth it. And hopefully this experience would make her stop being such a Chester asshole.
Paul watched her go, fading by the moment.
“I’d burn your shit all day long,” I said to him, crossing my arms. “All day long.”
“Totally,” Daisy agreed.
20
Alexis
By the time full night had fallen, the freak show was buzzing. Crowds of people milled around the various tents or stalls, all splendidly arrayed with decorations and hanging canopies. Colorful signs advertised the best seer on the West Coast (quite a few people boasted that unproven accolade) or the best cup of coffee in the world. Non-cracked crystal balls held prominent spots on some of the tables, while other tables had a cleared space for smoking cauldrons.
Some patrons smiled and laughed as they toured what to them were various attractions. Others stalked the grounds with grim determination, on a quest or desiring something specific.
“Clearly we need a sign,” Mordecai said to Daisy.
The two had been watching the other vendors with acute focus, trying to learn business tricks that would help me rake in more money. And while it was cute, they didn’t understand that doing better at this job meant I would actually have to do the job more, and I was already at my peak level of annoyance.
More people than ever before had sought me out tonight. Usually I’d get one or two when I came out here, but in the last few hours I’d had a nearly constant stream of clients. And none of them were tight-fisted! I’d quote a price, sometimes purposely on the high side to make them go away, and they’d cough it up. If hearing what their ghosts had to say wasn’t so taxing on my anxiety, I’d be over the moon about the money.
“A sign, and a real table. Like…what is with the TV trays, you know?” Daisy said to Mordecai, watching a woman with an elaborate setup next to us wave her arms over her bandana-clad head as she danced to silent music. She was apparently trying to call the spirits. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t working.
“Alexis could do with a bit more theatrics, too,” Mordecai responded. “That woman constantly has people at her booth.”
“That woman is a bit cheap, though. Fifteen dollars?” Daisy tapped her chin. “If you didn’t have a steady stream of people at that rate, would you even make enough to justify your time?”
“You would if you’re a hack. Like that woman,” I muttered. “She probably doesn’t have nightmares, though. Bully for her.”
“I think we have to treat Alexis like she’s a niche market.” Mordecai scratched his head through his beanie, clearly ignoring me. “Even if she put on an act, she wouldn’t be able to pull off good customer service.”
“Good point,” Daisy said. “We need people who are willing to pay more for quality, and also look past a truly atrocious bedside manner.”
“Which they will, if their questions are answered.” Mordecai sucked his teeth. “So far, it seems like people have received quality.”
“Oh yeah. Like that younger girl wanting to ask her pop-pop where he hid his will so the family would stop fighting? Oh my God, that nearly broke my heart.” Daisy leaned her elbow on her knee and rested her chin on her fist. “We should’ve charged her, though. Cute and sad or not cute and sad, everyone’s got to pay.”
Mordecai shook his head. “A few charity cases are good for public approval.”
I rolled my eyes and looked out at the darkened bay, barely able to see the movement of the water in the fog-shrouded moonlight.
“Here comes someone,” Daisy whispered. “And he’s hot. Lexi, fix your face. You can get a date while you’re at it.”
Fear and butterflies coursed through my middle as I spun around, terrified I’d see the familiar face that had been haunting me for the last couple days. Instead, a guy in his thirties with unruly brown hair and a pleasing smile sauntered up like he was having a wonderful time at the circus.
My breath left my mouth in a steady stream, but a tiny thread of disappointment had me stilling in unease. That was the wrong feeling to have when it came to the arrogant stranger who’d looked so thoroughly into my life. I liked to flirt with dangerous guys, but he was in a league of his own. Power, brawn, money, and information at his fingertips…he was not someone to be trifled with.
So why did I have absolutely no interest in the attractive man now sitting in front of me?
“Hey,” he said, and a cocky smile drifted up his face.
“Hi. What can I do for you?” I clasped my fingers in my lap as a strange sensation niggled at my back between my shoulder blades.
“I heard you can see dead people.” He laughed like that was hilarious.
“Oh, here we go,” Daisy mumbled. “One of these turds.”
Now you’re catching on, Daisy.
“Yes. What do you need?” I swiveled my seat to face him, but when I sat down, I glanced right as the strange feeling increased, spreading across my right shoulder and then down my
arm. Awareness bit into my skin like stinging nettles.
“Something is…out there,” Mordecai said, and his voice cracked with puberty.
“Oh yeah?” The man in front of me followed our gazes with a crooked smile. The crowd drifted past like usual, no one so much as glancing my way. The client scooted his chair up a little, trying to get closer to me. “What was it?” His smile showered me with appreciation and his eyes sparkled in invitation.
“Handsome turd,” Daisy muttered. “Ow. I’m going to have a bruise where you keep elbowing me, Sauron.”
“Probably just a ghost. They’re all over this place.” I widened my eyes in an attempt to add some mystery to the lie.
The man laughed.
Yes, I probably could do a little work on the stage act part of it all.
“Anyway, my buddy says that his friend’s aunt saw you once, and you, like, told her exactly what her dead cousin looked and sounded like.” He bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his face now almost as low as the TV trays. “He didn’t mention how hot you are, though.”
The itching between my shoulder blades intensified and warning shivers spread across my skin. Mordecai pushed himself up onto his knees, looking across me off to the right.
“That shifter part of you is starting to shine through, huh?” I asked him, trying to focus on the guy in front of me and having a helluva time. There were some bad people at the freak show and I’d had more than normal interest in my “booth” today. If someone or something was targeting me, I needed to think about an exit strategy. “Does that mean you can run fast?”
“I sense…something.” Mordecai shook his head. “I’ve never felt this sensation before. I don’t know what it means. But I feel aggressive and wary at the same time, and something is telling me the source is over there.”
“Don’t point!” I slapped his hand out of the air. “If someone’s checking us out, pointing will only piss them off.”
“Sweet, are you illegal?” the guy said, and I wanted to club him.
Best just to make him go away.
“Who are you wanting to talk to?” I asked.
“What’s up with that group?” Daisy whispered. Five big guys formed a loose horde beyond the midnight-blue tent just in front of my setup, their shirt sleeves stretched tight over their large arms and their mustaches curled at the ends.
“I don’t know, but they keep looking over here,” Mordecai responded. “That’s not where I sense the danger from, though.”
“Did you see that? That dark-skinned man holding that snake just pointed at us.” Daisy moved off her rug and started rolling it up. “Can you run fast, Mordie? You never answered her. Because I can run very fast.”
“I…was hoping to rid myself of a presence.” The guy was looking at the kids in confusion.
I absently reached for the tarot deck. “Sure.” The snap of cards competed with shrieks of laughter from the midnight-blue tent. The big guys were staring at us pretty openly.
“Beast handlers,” I whispered, ripping my gaze forward. If they were interested in me, that meant they’d somehow found out I’d taken one of their parking spots. But they had more to lose by starting something here, so if I pretended not to notice them, all should be well.
I increased the wattage of my smile to epic proportions and leaned forward, leading with my breasts. The buttons prevented cleavage, but often guys could be swayed by the mere idea of cleavage. “Here.” I held out the cards. “Cut.”
“This is how you see spirits?”
“Nope. That’s how you call them. I don’t see anyone right now—”
“They’re coming this way,” Daisy said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t see anyone,” I repeated, recapturing the guy’s attention. “So either no one is actually bothering you, or the spirit that’s attached to you just isn’t present at the moment.”
“Ah,” he said. “So…how often do you do this stuff?” He gestured at the setup.
Furious tingles scraped along my skin again. I couldn’t help but glance to the side. The crowd moved and shifted, but nothing stood out. If there was danger in that direction, it was lying in wait, hiding within the crowd.
In contrast, the group of beast handlers was now coming at me nearly dead center. They needed only to veer around one booth to reach me. My heart sank at the sight of the approaching wall of muscle.
“Every few months,” I said, forcing a smile at the client. “Daisy, Mordecai, get out of the way.” I breathed evenly, taking the deck back and trying to ignore my jumping heart. The tingle between my shoulder blades was going crazy and my flight reflex was active. “They can’t do anything to me,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth. “Not in a public place, and not when I’m with someone. That would reflect badly on the whole outfit.”
“Do they care?” Daisy said in a tight voice.
I sure hoped so.
“Okay, so I’m going to flip a card. I’ll keep going until—” The first of the big guys, six five and stacked with muscle, reached my area. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail and a stupid mustache with the curled edges balanced above thin lips.
“Show’s over,” the guy said gruffly, and cold trickled down my spine.
I batted my eyelashes, not standing. “Is there a problem? I’m with a client.”
One of the other muscle-bound animal guys stopped by said client and grabbed the back of his chair. His tree-trunk arm contracted, and my client tipped forward out of his seat. He reached out to catch himself, grabbing my TV trays and yanking them down with him.
I jumped up. “What’s going on?” I shouted, drawing eyes and, hopefully, the notice of security.
The first guy kicked the downed TV stands out of the way and stepped to my side. “Do you own a puke-brown shitty little Honda?”
I brought my hands to my chest as though ready to clutch my nonexistent pearls. I’d be able to strike out faster if my hands were already up. “Puke-brown shitty Honda. Quite the wordsmith. Hmm. Let me think… Yes. Why?”
A couple of the guys crowded in, yanked the TV trays up from around the scrambling client, and flung them to the sides. They clattered across the cement and nearly smacked into the setup of the medium next to me. She and her client startled and half stood.
Mordecai bent to grab one of the TV trays, his blanket coming free from his shoulders and blowing to the ground.
“No!” I held out a hand. Daisy froze in the act of rushing to help him. “Leave it. Stand down.”
“Do what she says if you know what’s good for you,” the lead muscle said.
“Calm down, Mustache. Don’t trouble yourself with trying to threaten multiple defenseless persons. You look like you could use a break.”
“My boss wants me to deliver a message.” Mustache leaned down in my face.
I grimaced and blew out a breath. “Holy smokes. Does your diet consist solely of raw garlic, or what?”
“Stay out of his parking spot,” he seethed.
One of his friends threw one of my rugs toward the water. It thunked down far away. He ripped the remaining TV stand from the ground before beating the cheap metal frame against the cement walkway. Another guy looked around at the chairs.
“I found all that on the street, lug nuts. You think this is my first rodeo?” I waited patiently, easily hiding the adrenaline and fear running rampant through my body. Because no, it wasn’t my first rodeo, and I knew how to present myself to bullies, no matter how stupid their facial hair.
“Do it again, and you’ll be the one smashed on the ground,” Mustache said, blowing his hot breath stench into my face.
“Except…no, I won’t.” I picked at a button on my shirt to keep my hands up, unfortunately not able to hide my shaking.
This was when it would seriously be nice to have some useful magic. Because even if I was queen of the Ghost Whisperers, and had an army of spirits following me around, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to help me besides
drain a little energy from my attacker.
I looked over the enormous muscle layering the gigantic frame.
Nope, not a damn thing they could do to help. Not against the five very real guys huddled around my area, waiting to do me harm.
The best I could do was try to keep a cool head.
“Despite my magical blood,” I said, “I am protected in this establishment by the Articles of Coexistence, section thirty-two point eight. I have all the necessary, up-to-date paperwork. I am at least four feet from any other stall, and even if I wasn’t, I was here first. I parked in a space that was not clearly marked reserved. Said space had no signs or paint informing me that I might not be able to park there. Therefore, there is no official claim on that space, and it is governed by the first come, first served policy. I was there first. It is mine. You are welcome to take me to court. Or to petition with the governing body of this fair. Both have been attempted. Both have failed. But still, with your impressive powers of oration, you might stand a chance.” I stared at him with watering, unblinking eyes (the breath was intense), letting that sink in. “Oh. And by the by, you wrangle magical beasts, do you not? Did you know that’s illegal? It’s a punishable offense if you can’t prove their origin and come up with a sales document verifiable by the magical governing body. Do you have…such a document?”
I resumed my stare, letting that enormous bluff work its way through his thick skull. They likely did have a fake sales document, and no one would press them to go to the magical governing body. Still, it never hurt to remind these guys that they weren’t the top of the food chain. Not when dabbling with magical people. Not even close.
Mustache huffed, and I nearly passed out from the fumes. “Big words for a little girl.”
“Actually, I kept the words as small as possible so you could understand. Should I try again?”
His bushy eyebrows lowered over his beady eyes. Muscles popped out over his frame and his fists clenched. He straightened up slowly. It was a bad sign.
“It’s easier to beg for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission,” he said as he moved in closer.