“You’re funny,” the waitress said. “How many drinks? Three?”
“What kind of beer do you have on tap?” Khan asked.
“Just three Cokes,” Valentine said. “Thank you.”
The attractive waitress rushed off, and Khan tracked her movements like a dog watching a roasted chicken walk around his dinner bowl.
After she returned with the sodas and left again, Khan sipped his Coke and grinned.
Valentine said to her brother, “Stop smiling like that. I don’t even want to imagine what you’re thinking about.”
“Not that waitress.” Khan kept grinning. “I’m just thinking about how great today went. The three of us working together make a damn fine team.”
“Sorry again,” Eli said for the hundredth time.
On the drive over, they’d explained to him how Valentine had been on her laptop working to avert the next world war, and not checking her email or playing a game, as he’d suggested. Eli was still embarrassed about his reaction in the cellar, and kept apologizing.
“We did make a good team,” Valentine said. “We’re a classic misfit trio, if you think about it. Eli is the brawn, and I’m the brains. Khan, you’re the comic relief.”
Khan nearly choked on his soda. “Excuse me? No, Eli is the comic relief. Eli. Just look at him.”
Valentine raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, enjoying Khan’s sputtering.
“He has a handsome face,” she said. “And he’s brave.”
Khan sputtered in disgust.
Eli held out his hands, palms up. “I did slay a dragon.”
Khan said loudly, “Eli, you SLAUGHTERED an entire neighborhood’s beloved miniature lap dogs.”
“Um,” said the waitress, who’d arrived with the first platter of barbecued short ribs. “What video game did you say this was?”
She set the platter down carefully, her eyes warily examining Eli’s T-shirt, which was just red enough to make the spattered blood look like a decorative pattern—or so Eli hoped.
“He didn’t slaughter all the dogs,” Valentine corrected. “That little chihuahua got away.”
“Nigel.” Khan shook his fist. “We’ll get you next time, Nigel.”
The waitress silently walked off to get the rest of their food.
Eli grabbed a napkin from the silver dispenser and patted his forehead. “You guys sure know how to make me sweat,” he said.
Khan chuckled and stretched his arms out along the back of his side of the booth. They were in a family-sized corner spot, with each of them in the middle of their own bench.
Eli finished patting his forehead, let out a sigh, and stretched his arms across the back of his bench, mimicking Khan. It felt good to take up space like this, and fill his lungs with oxygen.
Valentine did the same pose, her fingertips nearly touching theirs. Eli fought to keep his eyes above her chin, despite her excellent posture pushing out curvy things.
“I did have fun today,” she said.
“Are you going to come on more jobs with us?” Eli asked.
“I don’t know.” She squinted up at the top of Eli’s head. “You have chunks of carcass in your hair.”
“He needs a decontamination shower.” Khan reached over to serve himself some gleaming, sauce-covered short ribs.
Valentine kept squinting at his head, only now she was focused on the thin scar at his hairline. “Eli, what’s the deal with the thing in your head? Is it really a smugness chip?”
He glanced around to make sure the waitress wasn’t within hearing range.
He turned to Valentine and let the truth come out.
He took a breath and said, “Valentine, the truth is… I painted shadows on my abdominal muscles using my girlfriend’s brown eye shadow.” He clenched his jaw and shuddered. That wasn’t the truth he’d meant to tell her.
She nodded like she completely understood, though.
“I get it,” she said. “Your microchip makes you weird. It’s a weirdness chip.”
“It makes him special,” Khan said. “He was able to see the Grid, and he heard the hellhounds talking to him.”
“You have superpowers,” Valentine said.
Eli shrugged. “If you say so.”
“What else did the dogs tell you?” she asked. “Did they say what the money was for, or who hired Joey’s mother to do that programming? Did they tell you their plan? Were the poltergeists part of the plan, or just a byproduct?”
Eli thought back to his interactions with Nigel.
The rat-faced dog had looked up at Eli and tipped his head, as if to say, just keep catching the poltergeists that slip out of the Dark Grid and mind your own business.
“They were a byproduct,” Eli said. “That’s my impression, anyway. I don’t know.”
Khan waved his hand dismissively, shaking his barbecued meat and spraying Eli with more red sauce. “Never mind that. Tell us about the money. Where did it go, and how do I get some? Valentine, you saw the code. You can run the same thing on a smaller scale, right?”
She lowered her eyebrows and glowered at him. “I already wiped my computer, and my memory.”
“You’re lying.” Khan turned to Eli. “She remembers everything.”
“Everything?” Eli turned to Valentine. “You’re the one with superpowers.”
She shrugged. “I’m just a freak.”
The waitress returned with even more platters, piled high with juicy, gleaming, sauce-covered meat. “If you eat everything, dessert’s on the house,” the waitress said.
Eli looked over the heaps of food. They reminded him of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The day had been a long one, and he was awfully hungry.
He turned to the waitress. “What do you have for dessert?”
“Jelly-filled donuts,” she said.
Valentine gasped. “Smash off.”
“Triple smash off,” Khan said.
“Bring us three jelly-filled donuts,” Eli said. “Three, for the trio of misfit superheroes.”
She nodded and left them to their dining.
Khan smacked noisily on his sauce-covered fingers.
Valentine ate with one hand while she drew swirls and grids on a map she’d pulled from her purse.
Eli pulled his dead phone from his pocket and wondered how many messages from Brenda were waiting, sitting on a server somewhere. Then he tucked his phone away and started in on his mountain of food.
Khan held up his glass of Coke and nodded for the others to do the same. “A toast,” he said. “To teamwork.”
“Teamwork.” They clinked their glasses happily.
* * *
Love and Elephants
A Supernatural Love Story
Originally published under
the pen name Mimi Strong
1.
Carter was a rich jerk who didn’t believe in silly things like falling in love, or so he told people.
His sister, Carmen, didn’t believe a word of it. She’d seen his joy when he came over for dinner, arms open wide for his niece and nephew to pile into his embrace. She saw how much he’d fallen for the little ones, so it broke her heart to think he’d never have any of his own. First things first, though, he needed to fall in love with a woman.
The two siblings sat in a cozy coffee shop planning their upcoming ski trip. The next weekend would be Carmen’s husband’s birthday, and Carter was picking up the tab for a deluxe family vacation because he was rich, and definitely not a jerk, despite what he said about himself.
“You’ll meet my friend, Elle,” Carmen said to her brother. “She’ll be at the resort the same time as us, so she’ll join us for dinner a few times.”
He looked up from his phone and the shared calendar they’d been using to plan the ski trip.
“You’re not trying to set me up again, are you?”
“Elle is just a friend.” She held her hand to her mouth to conceal a smirk. “A single friend. Thirty-something, just like you. I think you two hav
e lots in common. She’s a workaholic, so she won’t demand a lot of your time. That’s your fear about dating, isn’t it? That you don’t have time?”
“Listen, Carmen,” he said. “I’m a rich jerk who just doesn’t care about falling in love or getting married. Accept it.”
“I wish you’d tell me why you’re so afraid of love, you big chicken.”
“Hmm,” he said as he sipped his latte. “This is a great latte. I love this latte. I love this whole coffee shop. See? I’m not afraid of love.”
He winked playfully at his sister, then straightened up in his chair, stretching his handsome frame and catching the eyes of more than a few women. With his tousled sandy-brown hair, emerald green eyes, and naturally athletic physique, Carter had no problem attracting interest.
But, for some reason, the beautiful women he’d take to business functions never stuck around.
“I also love my new shoes,” he said, leaning down to admire his expensive-looking loafers.
“You’re a funny guy,” Carmen said. “Don’t you want a partner to laugh at your jokes? Why won’t you let me fix you up? Have I ever told you about River? She’s in my Wednesday hot yoga class.”
“Hot yoga?” Carter made a gagging gesture. It was his knee-jerk reaction to any mention of what he called silly things: yoga, meditation retreats, or those home-grown fermented foods that had become popular recently.
She leaned across the table and punched him on the upper arm. “Jerk.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll meet the other one, your friend Elle, but only because it’ll make you happy, and I love you.”
Carmen’s eyes grew shiny with tears. She sniffed. “I love you, too.”
He crossed his arms. “Don’t make a scene. You’re nice, and you’re my sister, so I love you, but dating is ridiculous. Just two foolish people sitting across from each other pretending to be something they’re not.”
“Shh,” she said. “We’re in a public place, and you’re upsetting people.”
“I don’t care!” he said loudly. “Love is ridiculous. It’s a useless sentiment invented by the sellers of greeting cards and diamond rings!”
People in the cafe stared, wondering what the attractive duo might be fighting about. To the casual onlooker, they seemed to have the world by the tail. Carter looked like a wealthy businessman, which he was, and Carmen looked like a happy wife and mother and popular lifestyle blogger, which she was.
Across the cozy interior of the cafe, one person in particular took a keen interest in Carter and his ranting.
This person was a Dice Witch.
The witch watched the siblings playfully punch each other. In her magic-assisted vision, she saw the older versions of themselves they’d someday be.
Carmen would live a long and fulfilling life, with children and grandchildren filling up large houses for the holidays. She would always include “Uncle Carter” in their activities, because he wouldn’t have a family of his own. Carter would never get around to dating—not unless you counted showing up drunk for Thanksgiving with two strippers.
The future didn’t look good for Carter, but fates could be changed.
The witch reached into her purse, selected two dice by touch, and walked toward the siblings’ table.
“One dollar for a lucky roll of the dice,” she said to them.
Carter tilted up his handsome face, and something in his green eyes electrified her. He put up a tough exterior, but there was a tender soul behind those eyes. The Dice Witch felt his potential, his hope, yearning to break free. Hope made him reach for his wallet.
The Dice Witch was dressed like a beggar, so most people assumed she was asking for a dollar because she needed it. They didn’t realize it was a symbolic gesture of compassion, a marker of hope.
He handed her a twenty. “Keep this, please. No fortune-telling required. I have a work ethic, and I make my own fate.”
The sister smiled up at the Dice Witch. “We’re going on a ski trip tomorrow. Tell him how much fun he’ll have.”
The Dice Witch responded by tossing her two dice on the table.
The dice weren’t the usual type that showed numbers between one and six. The first had colored sides, and the color showing on top when it stopped rolling was yellow. The second had illustrations of animals, and the top-most image was that of an elephant.
Carter narrowed his eyes at his sister. “Cute joke. You totally set this up. You and your pranks.”
Carmen held up her hands. “I’m innocent, I swear.”
“Listen closely,” the Dice Witch said to Carter. “Your last chance for love will come to you in yellow. You’ll kiss her by an elephant, and then it will hit you. Love will fall down on your head.”
“On my head?” He stifled a laugh. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be careful not to kiss any girls in yellow next to any elephants.”
She swept up the dice, turned to the sister and said, “I have a message for you, too, dear. Don’t worry about your husband. It’s a clean break and will heal. Consider yourself lucky, because he’ll be more careful now.”
The two siblings frowned at each other in confusion. Who was this crazy woman, they wondered, and should they be phoning the people with the butterfly nets?
Both of their phones started ringing at once.
Carmen answered her phone with a tender, “Miss me already?”
“Don’t freak out,” came her husband’s voice from the phone. “I was dealing with the Christmas decorations, and do you know how they say you’re not supposed to stand on the top step of the ladder? They’re not joking.”
She made a gasping sound and started freaking out, even though he’d asked her not to. He cut her off, saying, “Gotta go, honey. They’re loading me into the ambulance now. Wow, these pain meds are really kicking in. Yowza. Anyway, I won’t know until they do the X-Rays, but the paramedics figure it’s a clean break.”
“A clean break,” Carmen repeated slowly.
She could hear the paramedics talking to her husband, telling him to end the call.
He groaned. “I guess this means the ski trip’s off. Pick me up at the hospital, will you? Gotta run. No. What am I saying?” He giggled, sounding like their young daughter for a moment. “I’m on a gurney, so I gotta roll.”
The phone’s speaker clicked, then went quiet.
Carmen set down her phone and blinked at her brother, who was setting down his phone as well.
“That was your neighbor,” he said. “The kids are over there, and your husband broke his leg, which I guess you know. Apparently it was… a clean break.” His emerald eyes held an expression of pure wonder.
They both looked around for the fortune-telling woman, but she was gone. They ran outside to check the sidewalks, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Stranger still, they couldn’t even agree on what she’d looked like. Carter swore she was short and young, and Carmen described her as tall and wise.
2.
Danielle didn’t mind being mistaken for a boy.
Rich people visiting the resort expected the person parking their car to be a male valet. It troubled them to see a pretty young woman taking their keys. Some of the older gentlemen acted as though she was going to spritz perfume and feminine hygiene products all over the interior, while grinding the gears.
Danielle’s job had gotten a lot easier since purchasing a knitted cap at a local craft fair. She’d bought it from an unusual yet friendly woman who called herself a Knitting Witch.
Danielle loved the vendor’s gimmick—the idea that magic could be woven into knitted items, and that a hat could work like an invisibility spell. She didn’t believe in magic, of course, but it was a great story.
With her hair tucked up in the knitted cap, Danielle wasn’t exactly invisible, but she did blend into the background. When people did look directly at her, they mistook her petite features for those of a teenaged boy. Coworkers called her Dani, which helped keep up the illusion.
Anothe
r advantage to the cap, besides better tips, was that people didn’t ask her intrusive questions, demanding to know what a beautiful woman with a great resume was doing here, valet-parking cars for minimum wage in a ski resort town.
Before the Hat of Invisibility, someone had accused her of being a famous actress researching a new role.
Life has so many twists and turns, she thought. One day you’re at the top of your game, pitching a print and TV campaign to America’s most beloved grocery store brands, and the next day you’re lying on the floor in your corner office, having doused yourself with ketchup, crying that it did make a lovely marinade, it did.
The doctors had said Danielle’s episode was a simple stress reaction—as if there was anything simple about having a complete and utter breakdown over a condiment pitch.
After a few weeks of monitoring and evaluation by the best mental health professionals in the city, Danielle left the city and took the first job she was offered, working at the same ski resort she’d enjoyed visiting as a child.
She enjoyed the job, and communal living with her co-workers. Housing in the resort town was scarce and expensive, so a dozen of them rented a house together. They slept like barn mice, crashing wherever they could find a quiet place. Danielle had spent more than one night outdoors, on the covered porch, staring up at the stars from beneath a dozen blankets layered high to keep out the snowy chill.
And she loved it.
She loved everything about her new bohemian life, except maybe her love life.
She had a crush on her Australian ski instructor roommate, but he was in love with the Canadian bartender, who was infatuated with the Swiss chef. The chef liked Danielle, but he was bisexual and liked the Australian ski instructor better. Danielle and the chef would share cupcakes sometimes and moan over how unfair it was that the Australian ski instructor didn’t love them like he did the Canadian bartender.
“Our international love rectangle,” they called the situation.
Danielle was talking to the Swiss chef on her phone and leaning on the valet parking stand when a luxury vehicle pulled up.
Witches and Ghosts Supernatural Mysteries Page 80