A Witch's Fate: Witches of Lane County

by Jody A. Kessler

  Once inside, the club didn’t appear outrageously unique or different from any other club. Purple velvet booths lined one wall. High top tables and chairs lined the other side of the dance floor. The bar looked like a bar. The topless male bartenders weren’t of the usual ilk. Neither was the heavily carved dark-stained wood, but each club had its own flavor and apparently this was Club Wicca’s. A large owl sat perched on top of the upper right-hand corner of the back bar. At first, Leif thought it must be a taxidermy specimen, but the owl’s head pivoted and stared right at him. For inexplicable reasons, Leif felt compelled to turn away.

  Truly threw a quick glance to Leif and then faded into the crowd. She didn’t want her reputation compromised if anyone happened to recognize Leif while he searched for Gerard Falke. It didn’t take him more than a minute to find the bouncer. Seeing Gerard knock back a shot of alcohol and then a second one, Leif decided the guy must be off duty for the night. The muscular bouncer didn't wear the wine colored button down shirt the other security guards wore, affirming Leif’s observation that he wasn’t working. Gerard passed a third shot glass to a gorgeous redhead on his left. The woman tipped it up to her lips and made the alcohol disappear.

  Once Leif spotted her, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place her. She had the most distinctive face, and he couldn’t explain exactly why she intrigued him so profoundly. The bridge of her nose was slightly too angular, along with the high cheekbones. Her lips were full and glossy. But her eyes captured a spark inside his soul and he found it difficult to tear his gaze away. Even from his position across the bar, they shone golden green, as if evening sunlight streaked across late summer grass. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her waves of blazing red hair, and they angled over smoky eye shadow. Holy hell, he thought and forced himself to refocus. Leif needed to concentrate on Gerard, and not the apparent girlfriend, or whoever she was. If her identity became important, he could always ask Truly.

  Leif maneuvered closer to the bar and flagged down the bartender.

  “What can I get for you?” The shirtless bartender sported tribal tattooed armbands, pierced nipples, and wasn’t shy about flashing his fangs as he smiled at Leif.

  “Beer. Got anything local?” he asked.

  “I have exactly what you need,” the bartender said and flashed the sharpened canines once more before pouring Leif’s beer from a tap.

  As he waited, the couple on the barstools next to him, slid off their seats, leaving a void at the busy bar. Leif took the one closest to him. He kept his face neutral as he accepted the glass of beer and paid the hefty price for a pint of craft brew. “Keep the change,” he told the bartender and then turned pointedly away with the hope that the extremely young-looking pretend vampire would stop checking him out. The fangs did nothing for him and being male wasn’t exactly a selling point either. Leif took in the old theater turned bar and nightclub. He glanced out across the dance floor to the small stage. Over his head must be a balcony. There was a mezzanine to the right and left with small tables crowded with more freaks of a generally gothic persuasion.

  No band performed, but they tied velvet curtains open to showcase the enclosed fire at the back of the stage. Glass walls easily six feet high with blue and yellow flames inside provided the backdrop for the stage. Flames that high couldn’t be real, but it created a neat effect that was the most interesting thing about the club. Music pumped through the building, and the dance floor was crowded. Leif turned back around and pretended interest in his beer. The hops were strong and flavorful. He gave the club points for having a decent brew on tap, but what he really needed was to keep one eye on his suspect.

  Over the rim of his glass, Leif spied the redhead pulling Gerard toward the dance floor. Instead of leaving his barstool, he reeled his girlfriend back in, and not gently. She wobbled on high heeled shoes and landed in his lap wearing a displeased expression. Gerard laughed before gripping the woman’s neck and pulling her face in close to his. The surrounding group of men nearest Gerard subtly averted their eyes. Gerard kissed the redhead and released her. He rose from the stool and led her to the dance floor. The unsettled look remained on the woman’s face even after kissing him back.

  Leif watched with interest. In her shoes, he would have slapped the smugness off Gerard’s face. She was clearly unhappy. He downed more beer, looked for the owl, and saw it was no longer on its perch. He glanced around the club but didn’t see it anywhere. Amber lights lit the area near the bar, red lights highlighted the balconies, and black lights cast a shadowed purple hue over the stage and floor. Finding a mottled brown owl in the near dark would be close to impossible.

  He finished his beer and set the glass down before stepping away from the crowded bar and moving deeper into the club. He scanned the floor and found Gerard and his girlfriend facing each other on the edge of the dance floor but not dancing. Gerard’s head was bent down close to her ear, and he held onto the woman’s upper arms with enough pressure to indent her skin.

  Alarm prickled along Leif’s spine. The girlfriend pulled away from Gerard and said something he couldn’t hear. Before Leif could step in to do something, Gerard planted his mouth against the redhead’s with more force than any man should ever inflict upon a woman. She was out of his grasp, so fast Leif thought time and physics played a trick on his eyes.

  Everything that happened in the next moment didn’t make much sense, but Leif reacted anyway. The gorgeous redhead was walking away with a rigid spine and spitting fire. Gerard was on her back in a flurry of movement. Gerard took hold of the woman and pinned her against him. She struggled, but her stilettos made her stumble. To his alarm, the woman was being dragged toward the darkest corner of the club.

  “What’s up, man?” Leif said, blocking their path. Once he was in front of them, he glimpsed a hallway leading toward the restrooms and other private rooms. “You doing all right, miss?” he asked the redhead.

  “Obviously not,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “She’s funny, isn’t she?” Gerard said with a smile that more resembled a snarl. “My girlfriend is having a rough night, but I’ve got the situation under control.”

  “I think you better take your hands off her right now.” Leif widened his stance.

  “I think you should move out of our way, asshole. Tori, tell him we have a private party room upstairs.”

  “You’re going to regret taking your next breath, you hideous vulture.” Tori tried to jerk free, but his hand tightened.

  “You heard her.” Leif’s warning tone rang clear.

  Gerard released the redhead by flinging her to the side. His hand moved to his waist with incomprehensible speed, but Leif saw it coming anyway and moved from instinct. He threw his left arm out to block whatever was coming and simultaneously went for Gerard’s kidney with his right fist. The surprise punch gave Leif the second he needed to back away and place himself between a furious Gerard and the stunning redhead named Tori.

  A screeching hiss escaped from Gerard’s throat. He hunched into himself, muscles bunched, preparing to fight. The sound and skirmish garnered attention. Leif suddenly found himself surrounded by muscle-bound bouncers wearing matching wine colored shirts.

  “What’s the trouble?” a faceless voice asked from the group.

  Leif hated the dim lighting and the strobe effect pulsing throughout the club. He needed to be able to observe what was happening around him and who spoke.

  He started to answer, but Gerard interrupted. “This no-mag interrupted Tori and me.”

  What did he just call me? Leif wondered. It sounded like nomad, but different. Did Gerard have an accent of some sort? He couldn’t tell with the incessant music.

  “The lady was being threatened—” Leif started, but the wall of dark shirts lined up beside Gerard.

  “It’s time for you leave,” the wall told him.

  A hand shot out from the group and wrapped around his bicep. Leif threw a punch, unc
aring to which face it landed on. All at once, Tori stood between him and Gerard and his cronies.

  “Stop this right now!”

  “Move, Tori. This guy is out of line. We’re escorting him to the door.”

  “The only person out of line is this loathsome assbag.” She jabbed Gerard in the chest with a glossy dark painted fingernail.

  Leif estimated how quickly he could make it outside. He reached for Tori’s shoulders to guide her out of harm’s way. Gerard didn’t care to be poked and snatched her wrist from mid-air before she could retreat.

  “You promised me a night together. Just the two of us. I don’t take promises lightly.” Gerard sneered in her face.

  “Here’s a promise for you.” Tori shook Leif off and leaned in closer.

  He couldn’t distinguish her face in the gloom, but it must have been fierce since the bouncers took a collective step back. Gerard smiled at her.

  “You’re going to regret this night for the rest of your life, you vile scavenger.” Tori kneed him in the jewels.

  Her incredibly swift and forceful movement caught Leif off guard. Once again, he would swear his eyes played tricks on him. But it wasn’t over. Gerard, bent at the middle, so his family jewels were in the protective custody of his gut, had a hold of Tori’s leg and he yanked. A scream tore from her throat as she toppled backward. Leif caught her under the arms and whisked her off her feet. The security guards reacted in all directions. Two went for Gerard, and two lunged for Leif and Tori.

  With Tori cradled against his chest, he spun around and headed toward the exit. Tori’s spiked heels acted like a weapon and kept the bouncers at bay. The unusual sensation of warping time seemed to encapsulate him and his surroundings. The crowd inside the club became a blur, and only the woman in his arms remained in focus. They were out the door and beside his vehicle in two seconds or less.

  “He broke my freaking knee!” she bawled.

  Rage nearly matched the anguish in her voice. Leif swallowed hard and followed his survival instincts. “We’ll get you taken care of.” He lowered Tori onto the passenger seat, barely able to handle her whimpers of pain, and jumped in behind the wheel. His heartbeat raced down his arms and pulsed against the steering wheel through his fingertips. Tori no longer cried in agony, but she sat next to him with both hands wrapped around her knee and continually made unintelligible murmuring sounds. Leaning forward in the seat, Tori’s red mane of hair blocked most of her face. He blamed the adrenaline rush for their strange exit but knew that the dump of body chemicals from the fight and flight had now tapered off. The continued existence of the otherworldly energy permeating the inside of his SUV defied explanation. He slid a sidelong glance over to his passenger. Eerie didn’t quite describe the repetitive sounds she made, but he couldn’t fully comprehend what she was saying. Was she speaking Latin?

  In the late hour, little to no traffic hindered their progress across a normally bustling downtown. He thought there was a twenty-four-hour emergency clinic somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t remember where exactly. The hospital was only a couple miles farther. They were already on SW Broadway, and the traffic lights were being uncharacteristically cooperative. She quieted and sat back in her seat.

  “How’s it going over there?”

  “I’m plotting my revenge.”

  Chills raised gooseflesh on his arms. He didn’t doubt her statement. “Yeah? You always date such nice guys?” he asked, trying to lighten her deadly tone.

  She struck him with a sharp gaze.

  “Sorry, but seriously? You’re not married to that douchebag are you?”

  “No. I’m not. And thank you for your concern.” She paused, looked him over and appeared to come to some silent conclusion. “I’m Tori. Who are you, exactly?”

  “My name’s Leif. We’ll be at the emergency room in a couple of minutes.”

  “No we won’t,” she said plainly. Without looking at the street, she said, “Park behind the silver coupe. See it there?” She pointed. “Please pull over.”

  “What?” he asked, confused. “What are you talking about?” He found himself parking without realizing what he was doing. The street sign at the corner said Mauve Ave. Utter confusion baffled his mind and silenced his tongue. How had they gotten here? A few seconds ago, he’d just driven through the intersection of Broadway and Clay St. on the way to the emergency room. It didn’t make sense. How…? She interrupted his mind sorting.

  “Thank you for the ride, Leif. And for getting me away from that repulsive vulture. This is my building.” She glanced out the window staring at the upper floors.

  Chapter Five

  “YOU LIVE HERE?”

  Tori heard the assessment in his voice as he looked around at her two thousand square foot loft apartment. The vast square footage of her living space didn’t even include the offices downstairs. What had she done? Why didn't she take him to the office door like everyone else who visited her building? Goddess, what would he think if she told him she owned the entire building and four tenants leased from her? She shouldn’t care a smidgeon what he thought, but he had a way of making her forget her better sense. It was completely unlike her, especially since they only met twenty minutes earlier.

  Tori hobbled farther into the apartment, supported by the incredibly hot arm candy who called himself Leif. If not for her twisted and swollen knee, she never would have allowed a stranger to enter her private space. Now, she would have to give him a memory-erasing potion so he would forget about her and her apartment.

  “This is a great apartment,” he remarked.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled and limped toward the kitchen. Why couldn’t the cute ones refrain from speaking? Too often, sexy men opened their mouths, said something asinine, and ruined her moment of visual appreciation. Brawn was her weakness. She knew it, and it didn’t bother her most days—especially since she avoided serious relationships. The Morgan family curse killed off all true loves and had done so for five centuries. Tori grew up with that knowledge and thought she was handling it well. No boyfriends and no falling in love. The rule had been in place since her mother told her about the family curse. Her cousin, Aspen, pined and moped over their cursed existence—especially when she was in the middle of a breakup—but Tori considered the curse to be a more in-your-face reminder of how brutal marriage could truly be. If anyone could rip your heart out and spit on it, it was your spouse. So Tori had never fallen, and she planned to keep it that way. As far as the universe was concerned, she was actually saving lives. She had to admit, Leif hadn’t said anything annoying yet. There could be some hope for this guy.

  “Can you help me sit down over there?” She gestured in the direction of the kitchen island where a row of three wood chairs lined one side of the long countertop.

  Since she meant to erase his memory of her apartment before leaving anyway, she figured he could earn the right to be there by doing a little charity work for her. Tori couldn’t put any weight on her left leg without extreme agony. Damn Gerard! Who did he think he was? That hunk of self-centered European pompous ass was going to pay for what happened at the club, she vowed. Leif, hunk number two of the night, seemed more than capable of doing her bidding for a few minutes. Healing the tear in her ligament—what happened inside her knee—had to be done as soon as possible. The healing charms she’d tried to affect in Leif’s SUV didn’t work. But with the right mending spell, she would be dancing again by tomorrow night.

  Leif pulled the chair out, and Tori eased onto the seat, sucking in a breath as she tried to adjust her leg to cause the least amount of pain. Before she could tell him what to do next, Leif let go of her arm and dashed up the stairs to her open loft, and also her bedroom.

  “Hey! Where are you going?”

  She couldn’t follow him, and he didn’t answer. The heavy footsteps thudding around upstairs sounded like a rhinoceros, and she cringed. The bottle of memory-erasing potion sat among the spices. While he was preoccupied doing Goddess knows what, she
summoned the amber glass bottle to her. It slid across her soapstone countertop and stopped gracefully within arm’s reach. Tori tucked the innocuous-looking bottle beneath her leg on the chair as Leif thumped back down the stairs.

  He grabbed another chair and began lifting her leg while stuffing pillows beneath it. Tori squirmed to get away from his grabby hand.

  “Hold still, or you’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “Ow,” she said. “Let go.” She couldn’t go anywhere, other than falling off the slick chair and onto the floor, which she nearly did. She almost lost the bottle of potion hiding under the back of her leg. What was up with women’s clothes anyway? Couldn’t they have at least one secret pocket? She supposed not. Any seam on her clinging dress would show like fractures on glass.

  “I told you it would hurt. Now try to relax.” Leif’s movements were brisk but efficient as he placed the pillows below her knee and heel.

  Once she realized he wasn’t trying to molest her—figuratively speaking, not literally—the pillow helped immensely.

  She stared at her bed pillow and then up at Leif. Sitting back in the chair, she was about to thank him, but she didn’t get the chance. He sauntered around the island and opened her refrigerator.

  “Got an icepack?”

  “Maybe? I’m not sure.”

  “Ice might help. If you tore something, you’ll need an MRI.”

  As he dug through the contents of the freezer, she lost herself in the extraordinary view. His biceps arched like small bulging mountains. His forearms were corded with muscle. Beneath his plain asphalt colored T-shirt, rippling sleek and sculpted muscles cascaded down to a streamlined waist. He turned slightly, so the side view became a back view, and she couldn’t stop staring. Holy mother of grape vines, his ass was worthy. Worthy of what? She honestly couldn’t form an intelligible thought. Her brain matter magically turned to mush. But his rear end was definitely worthy of…praise? Glorification? A trophy? She must have gone slack-jawed because she was suddenly choking on drool. Tori cleared her throat.