“Sure, Trey, I’ll see you later.”
###
Thirty minutes later, Sam and I were sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Goodman’s. I hadn’t been able to shake my intense feelings of anxiety, guilt and excitement--anxiety because I was eager to hear what the doctor would say; guilt because it was like I was failing some part of me just by considering this; and excitement because I’ve always hated my ears. Now, they all warred with each other until I felt nauseous.
“Trey came to my place last night,” I whispered. Sam dropped the magazine she’d been reading back on the side table.
“What for?” she asked and wiggled her eyebrows. “I didn’t think he was your type.”
An image of his shiny forehead sweating bullets littered my mind. “Come on, Sam. You don’t think I slept with Trey, do you?”
She started to laugh. “No, I guess that would be totally weird.”
“I haven’t had a date in a while, but I’m not desperate.”
“Okay, point taken. Why did he come over?”
“He saw a vision of Fabian’s murder.”
Her eyes went wide. “Did he see who did it?”
“No, not exactly. Just that the creature was female. He was super freaked out, though, and stayed the night. I’m worried about him.”
And honestly, as much as he annoyed me, I was worried. If what Trey said about the creature sensing him was true, he could be in serious trouble.
I faced Sam again. “Can you put a protection spell on his place?”
“Yeah, sure. Why was he so scared?”
“He was worried the thing might come after him.”
“Do you think it will?”
“I don’t know.”
She was silent as she considered it. “You know Quillan is going to be pissed off if he finds out you’re still working on this case?”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why he isn’t going to find out.” I considered telling her about Knight. Part of me knew I shouldn’t—that it was top secret, but the other part of me wanted to gab. That part won.
“You’re never going to believe this, Sam, but…”
“Dulcie O’Neil?” the receptionist interrupted and gave me an expression that said I’d better hurry.
I guess Dr. Goodman didn’t like waiting for his patients. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I stood up and started forward, Sam behind me. The receptionist led us to the first room down the hall and told us to take a seat. She closed the door behind us, and we were alone again.
“What won’t I believe?” Sam started, her eyes sparkling.
“Some detective from the Netherworld was sent over here to find out about Fabian’s murder. He said that someone summoned the creature from the Netherworld.”
Sam’s eyes went wider. “That’s an automatic death sentence for whoever called it.”
“I know. Anyway, this detective said he had orders from the Relations office to work with me.”
“Wow, Quillan is going to be uber pissed. Or does he already know? Is that why you’re off the case now?”
“No, Quillan doesn’t know. The order to put me under protection came from the Relations Office. Quillan had nothing to do with it. No one is supposed to know I’m working with the Relations team on the case.”
Sam crossed her arms against her chest. “My lips are sealed. You know me.”
“Yeah, that’s why I told you. So, the kicker in this whole thing is that the detective is that guy from Fabian’s shop. The stranger.”
Sam gasped. “Dulce, you need to be careful. What if he’s involved?”
I waved away her worry like an errant fly. “He’s not. I checked out his badge. He’s legit.”
“What’s his name?”
“Knight.”
“Wow, sexy name. Is he as hot as you first thought?”
I paused. Was Knight as hot as I’d first thought? Hmm. An image of him in tight black leather pants erupted in my mind. That broad, muscular chest. Sparkling blue eyes and black hair. “Hotter.”
Then the door opened, putting a halt to our conversation. The doctor was tall and his forehead so high, he must’ve had a big brain. He smiled at both of us, but I couldn’t really say he saw us. It was one of those polite but completely impersonal smiles. He closed the door behind him, and in perfectly upright posture, took the leather chair in front of us, swinging around until he looked like a corpse going through rigor mortis.
He glanced at what I presumed was my file, flipping through the pages with ennui. “Which of you is Dulcie?” he asked in a high-pitched and nasally voice.
“That’s me.”
He didn’t glance up but continued shuffling through the library of papers. “You’re here to find out about ear augmentation?”
“Yeah, I don’t like the points at the top of my ears.”
He still hadn’t acknowledged me. “Are you a fairy?”
“What else would I be, a Vulcan?”
Sam laughed, the doctor didn’t. I dropped the smile from my lips and nodded. “Yeah, I’m a fairy.”
He sighed. “That makes it a little more difficult.”
“Why’s that?” Sam asked, her voice wary.
The doctor eyed her down his ski-slope nose. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Sam, Dulcie’s best friend.”
He faced me again, ignoring Sam. She glanced at me, anger etching her features. “It’s difficult because the properties in your blood and tissue are different than a human’s. The operation requires some extra equipment and possibly more anesthesia,” the doctor concluded.
Extra equipment?
“Okay,” I said, not really sure what else to say.
He stood up and towered over me. He motioned with his long fingers that I should stand. I handed Sam my purse and got to my feet. Then he turned me so I was facing the wall and shifted my hair behind my right ear. He ran a cold finger down the length of my ear, and I shuddered involuntarily.
“They certainly are pointed, aren’t they?”
“She’s a fairy,” Sam snapped. “I don’t see anything wrong with them,”
I gave her a discouraging look.
“Yes, that’s a matter of opinion, I suppose,” the doctor said, and a wave of resentment wafted through me. Why did doctors have to be such jerks?
He turned me to face him again. “Other than those ears, you are beautiful.” It was the same thing Jack had told me for five years. “An ear augmentation would make you perfect.”
I sat down again, feeling like I was selling my soul to the devil. I glanced at Sam, who was feigning interest in her shoes. A fierce pink had taken over her cheeks.
“How long would the surgery take?” I asked, trying to draw Sam’s attention away from her irritation.
“Maybe two hours. Depends on how much you bleed.”
I disregarded that statement. “What would it cost?”
He shrugged, and that meant it would cost more than I wanted to spend. I had a lot of money in savings—granted it was so I could retire from law enforcement and focus on writing full time. I guess I could work a little longer.
“Normally ear augmentation runs around six thousand dollars for both ears. But since you’re a fairy, which complicates it, I’d say you could expect to pay around ten thousand.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve gotta be kidding,”
The doctor’s stern expression said he wasn’t kidding—not by a long shot.
“Okay, great, let me take some time to think about it,” I said and stood. Sam was quick behind me.
The doctor didn’t stand but gave us another frozen smile in compensation. “Hope to see you again soon,” he said.
We showed ourselves out.
“Have you lost your mind, Dulce?” Sam asked as we left the building. “You can’t have that cretin operating on you. What a jerk! Ten thousand dollars?”
I unlocked my car. “Yeah, he was a creep, wasn’t he?”
“I’d say so. Plea
se tell me you aren’t considering it.”
I shrugged. “I can’t lie, Sam. I’ve been thinking about this for so long now.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Even though you won’t admit it, I think this has everything to do with Jack.”
“Well, let’s agree to disagree.”
###
Two hours later, I was back at home, replaying the events of the day in my head as I turned on my computer. Yeah, the doctor hadn’t been especially friendly, but I really wanted the surgery. I’d wanted it for years now and though Sam was convinced it had everything to do with my jerk ex-boyfriend, I wasn’t convinced. I mean, I’d disliked my ears before Jack was ever in the picture. But, Jack being the reason--or not--didn’t take away from the fact that the doctor was a jerk. Course, there weren’t any other ear augmentation specialists in a hundred mile radius of me. So, I was stuck between a Doc and a hard place.
I logged into my email, excited to see if any agents or publishers had responded to my query. As for the surgery, I pushed it to the back of my mind. There wasn’t a rush. I could decide later.
I had eighteen new emails in my inbox. My heartbeat raced. Upon further inspection, they were all agents and publishers. Wow. That had to be good, right? I opened the first one.
Dear Ms. O’Neil,
Thank you for your interest in Jones & Jones representing Captain Slade’s Bounty. Unfortunately, we don’t feel strongly enough about the work to offer you representation, but we wish you the best of luck.
Okay, so that was just one. There were seventeen more.
After getting to the fifteenth, I started recognizing a pattern—rejection. I opened the last email and sighed. Another rejection. At least this agent had ended the email by telling me historicals were out and the market was really looking for paranormals.
Un-flippin’-believable.
The phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hi, Dulce.” It was Sam. “Thought any more about the ear thing?”
“No, haven’t made up my mind.”
“You sound bummed out.”
“I just got rejected by every agent and publisher I queried. One of them said historicals aren’t popular right now but paranormals are. Paranormals, I mean, come on. Who the hell reads those?”
“Sorry to hear it. Don’t lose faith though.” She paused. “Maybe you should write a paranormal.”
“I’m done. I put everything I had into that book and not one agent wanted to look at it. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a writer.”
“Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Dulce. Maybe you just have to give the market what it’s looking for and it sounds like that would be a paranormal.”
“I have no interest in that. What would I write about anyway?”
Sam was quiet for a minute. “I know.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Write a book about Bram. Everyone loves vampires, right?”
Hmm, If you want to succeed you have to be flexible, right? Maybe it would do me good to try another genre. “Yeah, that’s an idea,” I started, considering it. “He’d eat it up, I’m sure. His ego is already big enough as it is. Any bigger and it could take out a small family.”
Sam laughed. “Okay, well I gotta run. Quillan wants something. Just wanted to check in on you.”
I could hear Quillan talking with her.
“Quillan says hi, and he’s stopping by after work tonight,” she finished.
“Okay, tell him hi back and I’ll see him later. Thanks, Sam.”
I hung up, pondering a book about Bram. Maybe it was worth a shot.
NINE
I didn’t think it was Quillan’s responsibility to buy dinner again, so I ordered a pizza.
“Ham and pineapple, my favorite,” he said, sinking his teeth into a slice.
I smiled—his stopping by every day after work was becoming comfortable. Today had only been the third time, but somehow it felt…right. The thought scared the crap out of me. What was I thinking? I was Quillan’s employee. And nothing more.
“How are the gremlins working out?” Quillan asked between bites.
I pulled my attention from the wall, where I’d been zoning out into space and daydreaming about all the things that could and would never be.
“So far so good. I haven’t seen them. Well, other than feeding them every morning.”
Quillan nodded, but his attention was glued to the floor. He took another bite, chewing slowly. There was something definitely bothering him. If he’d had laser vision, I’d have a sizable hole burned into my carpet right about now.
“What’s up, Quill?” I asked, half wondering if I really wanted to know.
He dropped the crust of pizza onto the plate. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Hmm?”
“I overheard you and Sam talking on the phone the other day about a doctor’s appointment you had.”
Mortification, embarrassment, and shame all took turns attacking my pride until I felt like a pile of self-consciousness.
“That’s really none of your business.”
He nodded, but by the steel set to his lips, he wasn’t giving up. “I know. It’s not, Dulce, but I care about you and I thought I should tell you…you don’t need surgery.”
My face had to be bright red—the blaze of complete and total humiliation flooding my cheeks like red dye dropped in water. I wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment.
“Well, I wish you hadn’t overheard our conversation, since it was private.”
“Have you made up your mind about it yet?”
“No.” I paused, pretending extreme interest in removing the lint from my sweatshirt. “And I really don’t want to talk about it.” I picked up my pizza, which suddenly seemed to weigh twenty pounds, and brought it to my mouth. I chewed but couldn’t taste anything, the aftertaste of shame still polluting my mouth.
Quillan took another bite of his pizza, and the silence in the room was telling. I put my slice back on the plate, feeling completely stuffed and more so… sick.
“You know the anesthesia could kill you or screw up your brain, right?” he finally said. “We can’t handle that sort of stuff, Dulce. We’re not like humans.”
I sighed. “Quill…”
“Just indulge me for a minute, Dulcie, please.”
No, I'd indulged him long enough. The subject was closed. It was my decision and damn anyone who wanted to change my mind. “The anesthesia will be fine.”
Even though I spoke with assurance, I wasn’t convinced. The risks of complication had always been the foremost reason I hadn’t gone through with the surgery. But Quillan’s doubts didn’t need company.
He shook his head. “Our bodies aren’t meant to handle harsh human sedatives. It’s a huge risk.”
I stood up and dropped my pizza slice into the trashcan, wishing I could dump the conversation as easily. My eyes fell to the view outside my window as I searched for the gremlins, hoping to focus on something else.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Why are you doing it?”
Quillan’s voice came from behind me. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to think about the fact that he was standing so close. His crisp aftershave hit me like a truck and I closed my eyes. After a second or two, I forced my eyes open and turned around. He stood maybe two inches from me, the heat of his breath searing my neck. I took a step back.
“Why do you think I’m doing, er, thinking of doing it?” I quipped, but he didn’t respond. “Because obviously I don’t like my ears.”
Quillan’s jaw tightened. “It’s not because some guy wants you to do it?”
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I turned my back to him and gazed outside the window again, much preferring the view to the stubbornness in Quillan’s eyes.
“I’m doing it for myself. I just happen not to like my pointed ears, and I think if they were…normal looking…”
“You’d be prettier? Maybe happier?” The sarcasm in his voice fuele
d my anger like kerosene on a fire.
“Yes, I think I’d be prettier and maybe happier!”
“I think you’ll be disappointed.”
I turned around to face him again but losing my mojo, I dropped my eyes back to the floor, hating the fact that I was so mortified, I couldn’t hold his gaze. “Regardless of what you think, I’d be happier with how I look.”
He was silent for a second. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”
I searched for any indication of teasing in his expression. But his face reflected mine—not a smile, not a sign of playful repartee, just an earnest, searching look as though we were both trying to read each other's thoughts. “I…I um, I don’t know what to say,” I managed. Quillan grabbed my hand forcing my attention back to him again.
“Not only do I think that, but you’re the best person on my team.”
“Quill…” I started, not wanting a “you’re so money and you don’t even know it” conversation.
“You’re the smartest on the team, Dulce. You’re the best employee I have.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Thanks, Quill, but I really don’t need to hear all this.”
His eyes narrowed. “Not only that, but I’ve had to talk myself out of asking you out on a date since you joined my team.”
My eyes went wide. It was like I was in a movie, maybe a dream. I’d always imagined I was just Quillan’s co-hort, one of the guys, his favorite employee maybe. “So, is this my review?” I asked with a flippant laugh, trying to make light of the situation.
“No, Dulce, it’s not.”
I looked down again, wishing the ground would open and swallow me. After another hopeless silence, I glanced up at Quillan—almost to make sure he was still there. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. We just stared at each other. Before I could blink, Quillan leaned into me, his face inches from mine.
“Can I kiss you, Dulce?”
I nodded dumbly as he ran his hands through my hair and he brought his lips to mine. His lips were soft and full. I closed my eyes and reveled in the taste and smell of him. He pulled me closer and I wrapped my arms around his chest, allowing myself to sink into him. Surprise flashed through me when I felt his tongue in my mouth.
To Kill A Warlock Page 9