Shift of Destiny

by Carol Van Natta

  Moira wasn’t exactly sure what one was, but it sounded mineral-like. She pointed toward the east wall. “Check near the crystals.”

  She retreated behind the sales counter, before more questions revealed her ignorance. Movement flashed in her peripheral vision, and she discovered an ornate mirror hanging near the ceiling that she hadn’t noticed before. When she looked around, she saw Mr. Maxen had strategically placed several other antique mirrors at varying heights, meaning someone standing behind the counter had a good view of most everything in the store. The one that had first caught her eye gave her a view of the books area, and for a moment, some distortion in the old mirror made the balding man look like an upright version of Smeagol from the Hobbit movies, except with shiny gray skin and a long beard, but he looked normal after she blinked.

  Uneasily, she wondered if the vision problems she’d been having were a symptom of something more serious, like a brain tumor, causing hallucinations. Maybe she should pick a larger city for her next landing spot, one that had an emergency room in a big hospital. Not that she had money for treatment, but knowing would be better than worrying. If it was terminal, she thought with black humor, maybe Witzer would finally leave her alone.

  By the time the adults were ready to buy, the boys had looked in every nook and cranny of the store for the "missing" kitten, who was still safely zonked out in her hatbox bed when Moira went to find Mr. Maxen so he could ring up the sales.

  He was just coming from the back, so he handed her the box he was carrying and asked her to put with the others, pointing with his chin toward a hidden storage area under the stairs. He brushed dust off his smoking jacket and went out front.

  Moira stacked the box on top, then latched the door to prevent a certain white furball from sneaking in. She gave the sleeping kitten one last, soft stroke, then retrieved her backpack and settled its comforting weight on her shoulders. She checked her appearance in the hall’s slender mirror and smoothed back the curly escapees from her braid. Someday, she’d like to be able to afford to have a professional haircut again, instead of borrowing office scissors.

  Maybe she could find a job that kept her out of sight, making it less likely for Witzer’s goons to stumble across her if they happened to come through town. She couldn’t think why they would, but she hadn’t expected they’d find her in Nunn, either.

  She envied Chance his graveyard-shift job that was indoors. She made a mental note to ask about a position at the town cemetery. She had experience with both landscaping and tombstone carving from previous short jobs.

  The front-door bells tinkled multiple times, signaling several new customers. She was glad that Mr. Maxen’s little shop seemed to be doing well, despite being a couple of blocks off Glade Street where most of the tourist shops and restaurants were. She hoped he’d find the help he obviously needed. She turned to dive through the beads, only to nearly run into Mr. Maxen.

  “Oh, you’re leaving, then?” he asked. His expression seemed to say he didn’t know if he liked the idea.

  “Yes, I need to find work.” She stuck out her hand. “It was nice meeting you, and if I run into anyone looking for a job like this, I’ll send them your way.”

  The front-door bells tinkled again, and a loud voice boomed through the store. “Hello, Iolo! I brought that bus full of tourists I’ve been promising.” The Slavic-accented male voice sounded irrepressibly hearty.

  Mr. Maxen rolled his eyes in exasperation, then gave a resigned sigh and caught her gaze. “Ms. Graham, you’re hired.”

  Moira blinked. “But you wanted a permanent employee…"

  “Apparently not,” he said. At her puzzled look, he added, "You’re here just in time.” He waved toward the front of the store. “I have more customers in here today than I had all last week. Either the Goddess of Life is giving me a cosmic hint, or you bring the store good luck. Either way, it would be foolish to let you get away.”

  Moira shifted her weight uneasily. The hint of possessiveness made her uneasy. Witzer claimed she brought him luck, too, and look what kind of trouble that brought. On the other hand, Iolo Maxen seemed sane and kindly, and obviously could use the help. “How about you just hire me for today, and we see how things go?”

  “Iolo!" The cheerful-voiced man sounded closer and louder. “Get your ancient bones out here and give your younger and much handsomer friend Sergei a proper welcome!"

  Mr. Maxen nodded. “Agreed. Put your pack and jacket under the desk and come out front.”

  Ten hours later, Moira gratefully wallowed in one of the compact stuffed chairs in the store’s book section. Her sorry feet competed with her aching back for the title of most unhappy, but at least the busy day had gone by quickly. She was also grateful that the disconcerting flickering in her vision seemed to have finally tapered off. Sergei’s busload of tourists had been followed by steady stream of customers all day.

  Mr. Maxen had been right about the customers knowing what they wanted, and no one seemed to notice or care that she had no idea which gems were supposed to be used for what, or the best chime sequence for achieving astral projection. Some took delight in explaining the antique occult items, and she took delight in selling them. At the end of the day, Mr. Maxen practically had to shove the last stragglers out the door, twenty minutes after the seven o’clock closing time, so he could dim the front lights and set the modern-looking alarm.

  Pandora had alternately been playful, curious, and skittish, as was the whim of kittens, and was currently lying on her back, snoozing in the valley of Moira’s thighs. She envied the kitten’s boneless contentment. Not to mention, its full belly. Her own complained about probably missing dinner. She’d only had a couple of pickled eggs for lunch from the gas station a couple of blocks away. Small-town grocery stores usually closed early, and anything but going back to Tinsel’s felt too far to walk. While she’d secretly been hoping to run into insanely hot Chance McKennie, she couldn’t afford to be eating out any more, or starting a relationship with a man who was as rootless as she was. A life on the run was full of little sacrifices.

  She’d forgotten to discuss a salary with Mr. Maxen, and hoped he’d agree to minimum wage for the ten hours. Some people got stingy when they thought they had the advantage, like the greasy slob who’d tried to short her and the undocumented Mexican lady who cleaned his truck-stop motel rooms. She doubted Mr. Maxen was like that, though. If he paid her cash, she could go straight to Tinsel’s and offer a token payment for her smallest room, then crash. She was unaccountably tired, as if she was fighting off an infection. She hoped it was just stress, because summer colds were the pits.

  She lifted the kitten to her shoulder to snuggle her as she walked toward the office. Pandora nuzzled Moira’s neck and tried to suckle on her earlobe. Once on her little bed, Pandora curled into a white ball of fluff and covered her face with a tiny paw. She wondered if the kitten lived in the store. Or for that matter, if Mr. Maxen did.

  He appeared in the wide, wood-encased doorway that led to the back of the house. It had what looked like hieroglyphics carved on each side. He beckoned her, with a wave, then brushed a few of the hieroglyphics, as if dust had gotten in them. “Come with me so I can pay you.”

  She grabbed her backpack and hoodie from under the desk and followed, interested to see more of the house besides the sales floor, office, and the small customer bathroom. As she passed through the doorway, she admired the detailed carving of the hieroglyphics. She remembered something about Egyptian decor being a fad in the 1920s after the discovery of King Tutankhamen’s tomb.

  The back area proved to be noticeably cooler and had little natural light. It had a modern, open kitchen area and a widened back door that had been converted to a loading dock with a lift-door. The rest looked like a giant workroom, with multiple benches with tools and low shelves filled with an eclectic assortment of mundane and exotic... artifacts was the best word she could come up with. Some looked like props from a fantasy movie, like magic wands and
crystal orbs. Others looked like exquisite antiques, including an intricate, pierced-metal lantern. Another area seemed to be reserve stock of souvenirs for out front. It reminded her of the back room of a small appliance repair shop, but neater, as she would expect of Mr. Maxen.

  After a few steps into the big work area, though, the flickering lights at the edges of her vision came back. She squinted, which seemed to help, until she accidentally brushed her fingers against an ornate, empty picture frame. Light flared suddenly from the frame, with an afterimage of a small pack of black wolves on the trail of a distant fleeing figure in red and blue. She cried out and stumbled, putting her hands up like blinkers to block the lights.

  “Are you feeling well, Ms. Graham?” Mr. Maxen turned from the old Victorian desk to look at her. He’d refused to call her Moira, even though she’d invited him to do so several times. She’d whimsically decided he was old school, when men didn’t casually call women by their first names, and had treated him with corresponding deference, so as not to make him uncomfortable with her forward, modern-woman ways.

  She resisted the urge to rub her eyes, because it didn’t help. “Just hungry, I think.” She smiled gamely. “It’s been a long day.”

  He raised an eyebrow, as if he knew she was fibbing, but didn’t call her on it. “It’s my fault you had such a poor lunch, so I added a bit extra to pay for your supper.” He handed her a cream-colored envelope.

  When she looked inside, she gasped involuntarily, then thrust it back at him. “I think you gave me hundreds instead of tens.”

  “And so I did,” he said firmly, making no move to take the envelope. “Fifteen an hour, plus commission, plus dinner.”

  She shook her head, which was a mistake, because the pain behind her eyes was getting worse. “I can’t take this much. I didn’t earn it.” It brought up unpleasant memories of Witzer upping the salary offers to ludicrous amounts, as if that was all it took to convince her to work for him. She took one of the hundred-dollar bills out and put the envelope on the desk, since Mr. Maxen had clasped his hands behind him. The peripheral flashes were nearly constant, and it felt like the walls were inching closer. “Which way should I go out so I don’t trip your alarm?”

  He tilted his head, then dropped his gaze. “I see I’ve offended you, which wasn’t my intention. Turn of the Cards had its best sales day all year because of you.” He moved gracefully to the widened back entrance and pressed an eight-digit sequence into the alarm’s keypad, then raised the door.

  She moved quickly. She didn’t want to be rude, but she had to get out of the workroom immediately. A wave of summer heat made her flush, and she blinked to see the bright sun, still a half an hour away from setting behind the mountain peaks. For some reason, she’d thought it would be fully dark and almost winter. Her wayward imagination was always getting her in trouble. She shook her head, laughing ruefully at herself as she slid the money into her buttoned chest pocket and turned back to him.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you.” She draped her hoodie over her arm and settled the familiar weight of her backpack on her shoulders, relaxing into the outdoor warmth and light that seemed to drive away the strobing flashes. “If you’re still okay with hiring me on a short-term basis, what time should I come in tomorrow?”

  He crossed his arms. “I will pay you one hundred and seventy-five a day in cash plus lunch, which I will send you to fetch for both of us. We’re closed on Mondays. If that is acceptable to you, please be here around eight forty-five so we can open at nine.”

  The high salary for a simple retail sales job in a small town pushed the boundaries of her comfort zone, but she desperately needed a new engine for her car, or she’d be a sitting duck. She made a private vow to be the best damn employee he’d ever had for as long as she stayed.

  “I’ll be here on time.” She glanced down at her plain button-down blouse, jeans, and worn athletic shoes, then at Mr. Maxen’s elegant smoking jacket and velvet pants. “I’ll try to wear something a little nicer.” Maybe the town had a thrift store.

  “Your present wardrobe is satisfactory, Ms. Graham. It puts customers at ease.” He brushed the satin lapel of his jacket and gave her a sardonic smile. “I have a reputation as an eccentric to uphold.”

  She gave him a teasing grin. “Well done, then.”

  He laughed. She turned to look at the small backyard and the alley behind. Most of the yard had been sacrificed to the wide driveway for trucks, but little strips of alpine garden, complete with natural rock troughs filled with delicate flowers and low shrubs, made charming borders for it. “How do I get back to Wizard Street from here?”

  Mr. Maxen gave her directions for a shortcut to Tinsel’s, then retreated into his store and pulled down the loading dock door.

  Her sore everything complained as she walked down the alley, making her remember her former landlady, Del, teasing about finding a boyfriend to rub her feet.

  Moira was tired of making friends and losing them, afraid of even sending an anonymous email, in case it led the hunters to her. She’d only been in Kotoyeesinay for a day, and already she’d miss the proper Mr. Maxen, the warm-hearted Aurelio at the diner, and especially the red-hot, handsome... her ankle twisted, and suddenly, as if she’d conjured him, she was tumbling into Chance McKennie’s arms.

  “Easy,” he murmured, as he helped her stay upright. The man smelled divine, like a combination of exotic spices, something civet-like, and earthy male. She blushed to realize she’d been sniffing him. Her nipples hardened as she barely controlled a shiver of desire. She had a momentary image of him nibbling on her neck, and her arching into him with uncontrollable passion.

  She pushed herself away from him hastily, before she did something stupid, like kiss him. Her intense response to him was very unlike her.

  She seriously needed to have her head examined.

  4

  Chance had never smelled anything so utterly perfect in his entire life as the woman in his arms. He would have liked to spend more time savoring the complex flavors of her scent, but she was pushing away, flustered, and his beast was roaring in his mind, surging to take form, right there in broad daylight. He stepped back as he clamped down on his jaw and concentrated on human thoughts. Driving his truck in rush-hour traffic. Marking a frame for a door hinge. Reading an architectural drawing. Kissing the woman in front of him. Not helping!

  The subtle caress of her magic gave rise to an unsubtle hardening in his pants. Thankfully, his loose T-shirt covered the growing bulge that his jeans wouldn’t hide for long. Just in case, he raised his arm so his sack of groceries covered his awakening desire.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” he replied, trying to smile. Wonder and delight bloomed with the realization that this gorgeous, sunny, trés sexy, fragile human woman was his beast’s choice for a mate. Terror and dismay took over as he realized the countless ways he could screw it up.

  “I stepped on your foot, didn’t I?” Remorse tinged her voice. “I’m so sorry. I’m a menace.”

  If he was like every other male shifter he’d known who’d just stumbled across his mate, he undoubtedly looked like a thunderstruck goofball. “I’m, uh, fine.”

  His beast clamored at him to pay attention to his mate, not his own worries. Beyond her mesmerizing eyes and full lips that he wanted to explore with his own, she looked pale and tired. The scent of feminine desire bloomed with her magic, and he could almost see it reaching for him. He trembled with the need to take her into his arms and find the nearest cave to join body and spirit with her, but that was out of the question. Not until she knew exactly what she was getting into, which meant first telling her the truth of who he was and not scaring the life out of her in the process. Not to mention finding someone to teach her how to use her magic, showing her who else really lived in Kotoyeesinay, and dealing with whatever had her needing sanctuary so badly that the elven magic had drawn her to town. It was just his luck to find the most diffic
ult road possible to happiness with his destined mate.

  “I wasn’t watching, either, so it was my fault as much as yours.” He made himself step back, in case he was crowding her, and gave her a more genuine smile. “Let’s take each other to dinner to make amends.” His beast snorted disdainfully at the cheesy pickup line. Shut up, he told the beast. It’s better than leaving a gift of a dead snake at her doorstep.

  She raised her eyebrows, then winced and frowned. Finally, she shook her head and laughed, throwing off whatever she’d been thinking. “I’m a hot mess right now, but I’m too hungry to turn you down.” She wiped away a sheen of perspiration from her forehead as she smoothed her hair. “Could we go back to the Blue Fairy? I’d like to thank Aurelio for all his help. The food smelled really good, and tonight, I actually have money.” She patted her chest pocket, which drew his attention to her lushly rounded breasts. His mouth watered.

  “Sounds good.” He pointed toward the street. “Let’s take my truck. It’ll save me from having to come back for it later.” She looked dead on her feet, and besides, he didn’t want to share her with the other pedestrians, even if it was just for a few blocks. He glanced down the alleyway behind them. “Did you get the job at Turn of the Cards?”

  "Yes.” She frowned. “Mr. Maxen has no idea about money, though. He tried to pay me way too much.”

  “That’s a nice problem to have,” he teased, hoping to coax another smile from her.

  She turned away to look at a display window. “Not as nice as you’d think.”

  Clearly, he needed to have a talk with Iolo Maxen to find out what that was about, but it could wait.

  He walked around the front of the truck to unlock and open the passenger door for her. She slid her backpack off and dropped it and her hoodie at her feet as she climbed in. Her scent made his chest and neck flush. He closed her door gently, then walked quickly around and let himself in so he could start the engine and turn on the air conditioning. The cab was hot from the summer sun, but its small area meant it cooled quickly.