Unlucky: The Case Files of Dr. Matilda Schmidt, Paranormal Psychologist

by St. Aubin, Cynthia

  All at once, he fell to the floor on his face and wrapped his arms around my ankles. “Please Dr. Schmidt! I can change! I’ll do anything! Just give me a chance.” The wet smacking sound of his kisses falling on my patent leather shoes sent a shudder of revulsion up the backs of my legs.

  “Rolly, please get up,” I implored.

  His back shuddered with the force of a sob as he rubbed his damp face against my feet.

  Make this stop, I silently prayed. Please, God.

  A deafening POP split the air. The percussion knocked me back into my chair and left me feeling my head had been caught in a giant brass bell.

  Rolly released my ankles, scrambling behind my chair to hide.

  Even before I opened my eyes, I knew what I would see.

  Crixus: demigod, supernatural bounty hunter and booty caller, larger than life, standing in my office.

  “You rang?” His voice was precisely as I remembered it. Only days ago, it had dripped into my ear like warm, smoked honey in the sweaty watches of the night. Chills erupted on the skin of my neck and migrated downward.

  “You’re only half,” I pointed out, opening my eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”

  “It’s only cocky if you can’t back it up.” He smirked, rocking forward on his black motorcycle boots. I began there and skimmed up the length of his jeans, pausing on the broad faded patches where his thigh muscles strained the fabric. Whether his tight black t-shirt was immortal as well, or that Crixus had chosen this as his standard uniform, I couldn’t say. In either case, I couldn’t form a complaint. Not when it revealed the terrain of his back and shoulders like paint applied by a lover’s brush.

  His was not the face of a god, but a gladiator. Neither graceful nor sensuous. Unrelenting in its angles and ruthless in its animal beauty. His sable hair was thick and fashionably messy above the deep sapphire blue of his eyes.

  God, would he be a wonder naked.

  “You have no idea,” he said.

  Blood stained my cheeks. “Convenient how you can hear my thoughts now,” I said.

  He tossed a glance at the office door. “See how I materialized this time? Didn’t lay a finger on her.” I fought back an irrational stab of jealousy picturing exactly how and where his fingers might have strayed on Julie.

  His smile widened. “What’s with the sap behind your chair?”

  Rolly’s head rose in my peripheral vision—a mole peeking from the safety of his burrow. “He’s not a sap, he’s my client. I’m in the middle of a session, which you have once again interrupted.”

  “Oh?” Amusement teased his mouth into a wicked grin. “I’ll just go then—”

  No! I cleared my throat and slid my eyes toward Rolly without turning my head.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor,” Crixus said, his smile informing me he had heard me loud and clear. “What was that?”

  “Rolly, come on out. I’d like you to meet a colleague of mine.”

  I watched Crixus size Rolly up and make some quick decisions. Rolly got as far as Crixus’s chest when his gaze fell back to the floor.

  “Rolly, this is…Chris. He’s er—subject matter expert.”

  They exchanged a brief handshake.

  “What subject?” Rolly asked.

  “All of them,” Crixus answered.

  I rolled my eyes at him behind Rolly’s back. “I was just consulting with Rolly about some of the relationship issues he’s been experiencing. It seems to me he might benefit from a male perspective.”

  “Well it doesn’t get any more male than me,” Crixus said, knowing I wouldn’t disagree in front of Rolly.

  “Right. I think it would be useful for Rolly to observe certain patterns of male behavior.”

  “Such as?” Pleasure smeared itself across Crixus’s face.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. Would you knock it off? You know exactly what I’m talking about.

  Electric jolts shot through my body as his voice echoed in my head. Apparently, this wasn’t a one-way proposition. Of course I do. But I’m enjoying this.

  Look, I helped you with Cupid, didn’t I? Can’t you return the favor?

  He licked his lower lip, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I’m all about returning the favor, Doctor.

  “Such as,” I said, remembering I should probably speak out loud at some point, “meeting women, conveying confidence, exhibiting alpha male behavior.”

  “Really?” Rolly asked, brightening. “You could teach me those things?”

  “Of course he can,” I answered. “He’s one of the best in his field.”

  “I’m one of the best anywhere.” Crixus glanced at my desk, his eyes sliding across the horizontal service just the way my back might if he shoved me down on top of it.

  “Wow, that sure would be great,” Rolly jabbered. “So how do we start?”

  “I think Dr. Schmidt and I need to discuss your case in further depth,” Crixus said. He eyed buttons of my blouse like a points of interest on a roadmap. “Alone.”

  “Sure, of course,” Rolly said. “Trading notes and all that. I understand. I guess you’ll let me know what’s next, right? I mean, when we should meet so you can teach me about the ladies.”

  “Lesson one.” Crixus turned to Rolly. “Don’t ever use the words ‘the ladies’ again. They’re women. Biological creatures ruled by a maelstrom of blood, fire, and grace. At the end of the day, each and every one of them wants one thing. Every cell in their body craves it. Thirsts for it. Aches for it.”

  Heat pulsed through my bloodstream. I could feel each individual current of air press against my skin.

  “What’s that?” Rolly asked.

  “What’s what?” I mumbled.

  “That’s lesson number two,” Crixus said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Gee! Thanks, Chris. See ya around, Dr. Schmidt.” I was only vaguely aware of Rolly’s wide khakis waddling toward my office door.

  The latch clicked closed, and Crixus lunged.

  *****

  He moved faster than a human could have, capturing my mouth before a protest could be uttered. His tongue slid between my lips as strong fingers dug into my hair, pulling my head back, opening me to him. Pain melded with pleasure as sensation tingled through my scalp, down my neck and straight to the aching place between my thighs. He left no space for uncertainty, no room for error. I understood.

  Crixus didn’t kiss. He conquered.

  Brazen as any Roman legion and twice as efficient. His assault was perfection incarnate. He occupied every sense I owned, my only option to surrender.

  The taste of him more intoxicating than the headiest draft. His scent, wilder than a thousand predators, more familiar than a thousand embraces. A moan resonating in my ears more lovely than any symphony. The body pressed against mine—a touch more intimate than my deepest secret or darkest fantasy. And in my mind, the rendering of forbidden scenes enough to fill time immemorial. I could be unfolded, explored, learned, and mastered this way for days without end.

  But for the moment, I still needed to breathe.

  I broke away, dragging air into my lungs like I had just fought my way to the ocean’s surface.

  “Fuck,” Crixus sighed against my hair. “Are you sure you’re human?”

  “Reasonably,” I breathed into the wall of his chest. A hard, insistent pressure throbbed against my stomach. And then it moved. Demigod indeed. “That a leprechaun in your pocket? Or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Mmmph!” squeaked a voice through the fabric at my hip.

  I screeched, jumping back just in time to see a tiny, rumpled red head and shoulders pop out of Crixus’s pocket. “Is the coast clear?” said the little man in a distinctive, lilting Irish brogue.

  I looked from Crixus to his pants and back again. “You have a leprechaun in your pocket?”

  “Guilty,” Crixus said with a shrug. “My next case.”

  “I’ll not be called a case, my lad,” the small voice chuffed. “Let me out, then.” Crix
us pulled the leprechaun out by the back of his jaunty green jacket and deposited him on my desk. “I’ll have me hat, if you don’t mind.”

  Crixus dug around and extracted a small green hat, which he reshaped with his pinky before offering it to the sprite performing stretches against my coffee mug.

  I blinked in disbelief when the leprechaun’s hand caught the hat brim and brought it to his waist as he bowed. “Felicitous Firecratch McWhiskeybottom, at your service,” he said. “But you can call me Flick.”

  “Firecrotch?” I said, taking in the red tufts on a mostly balding head the size of a golf ball. His eyes were round, bottle-green, and wise. “Your name is Firecrotch?”

  “Firecratch” he corrected, his cheeks going rosy. “It be my mother’s name. ‘Tis necessary in our world. Leprechaun lasses being frisky like they are. How else would we keep track?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I can understand that.” I looked helplessly at Crixus. Why is there a leprechaun on my desk?

  “Flickering Firesnatch McFriskybottom”—Crixus announced, looking as sheepish as was possible for a demigod—“I’d like you to meet Dr. Matilda Schmidt. She’s going to help us.”

  “Oi! Me name’s Felici—” Flick began.

  “Whatever,” Crixus said. “What do you think, Doctor?”

  “Help you what?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, half indignant, half because my nipples were still hard from the demigod’s ministrations.

  “So this is the lass you were tellin’ me about! The one you said could stop those bastards that’ve been hunting us.”

  “Us?” I walked around my desk and seated myself in the chair closest to where Flick stood.

  “Aye! Us. Me and me mates, that is.”

  “And who are your mates?” Out of habit, I picked up a pen and a sticky note and began to jot down notes.

  “Well now,” he said, seating himself on my stapler. “Let’s see. There’s four of us in all. Saint Pádraig, of course; Sweeney—you wouldn’t know him; and the kelpie, but don’t you worry, it doesn’t talk much.”

  “It?” I glanced at Crixus, who was perusing the section of my bookshelf devoted to deviant sexual behavior with some interest.

  “It’s an it as sure as I live and breathe, being a magical river horse from the loch and all.”

  “I see,” I said. “And these mates of yours, where are they now?”

  “Why here, of course,” Flick said, gesturing around my office.

  Crixus? I aimed a thought between his broad shoulder blades not unlike one of Cupid’s arrows. In my limited experience, I had no way of knowing whether the room might be occupied by creatures I couldn’t see.

  Fucker’s crazy, came the resonant reply. No one here but us.

  I looked up from my sticky note into the earnest little face. He believed what he was saying. “Tell me more about who’s hunting you.”

  A shudder took him. “The Tato Mens. May their obituaries be written in weasel’s piss!” He spat a tiny speck on my desk calendar.

  “The Tato Mens?” At least the kelpie had sounded mythologically possible.

  Crixus cast a glance over his shoulder. No such thing.

  And he should know. Shouldn’t he?

  The reply was instant and entire. He should. And he does.

  Could you turn off the thought reading for a while? I fired back.

  Could, he replied. Won’t.

  Bastard, I countered.

  True. A story for another time.

  “Are ya still with me, Doctor?” Flick asked.

  “Yes. Of course.” I set my pen back to my pad. “You were talking about the Tato Mens.”

  “Nasty things,” the leprechaun continued. “Responsible for all the bad luck in the world.”

  At this, Crixus finally spoke. “I had the impression that was a result of the strikes. Led by you and your mates, if I remember correctly.”

  “I admit there have been lapses in luck due to the union by-laws on occasion. But not this time. This time is different.”

  “On that we agree,” Crixus said. “People are noticing. No one is gambling, no one is taking chances. In the last quarter alone, casino revenue is down twenty-five percent all over the world. The Dow Jones lost two hundred and fifty points and Wall Street is teetering on the edge of total cluster fuck. How much longer do you think this can go on?”

  “It’s the Tato Mens, I tell you!” Flick insisted. “We’ve been doing our job same as always, but those little bastards come along and sabotage everything.”

  “But luck isn’t something anyone should count on,” I chimed in. “After all, it’s just a fluke.”

  The horrified expression on Crixus’s face should have been a warning.

  By the time I brought my gaze back around to Flick, it was too late.

  I awoke to a full-body orgasm.

  “Breathe!” Crixus ordered.

  “I’m…trying!” I insisted through spasms.

  “Thank the gods,” he sighed, pulling me into a seated position.

  My head thundered with pain. “What happened?”

  “He killed you.”

  “What?”

  A strange high-pitched voice chanted somewhere in the background. “I should have warned you,” Crixus said, close to my ear. “Humans are especially susceptible to leprechaun magic. You have to try not to upset him.”

  “I was dead?”

  “Not for long,” Crixus reassured me.

  “Not for long? Not for long?”

  He pressed a warm finger against my lips. I suppressed the urge to lick it. “Listen,” he whispered.

  I looked over Crixus’s shoulder to see Flick’s silhouette outlined against the glow of Sigmund’s tank.

  “Benedictus hippurus hoc est enim mihi pulcher forsit sapidum,” the little figure said, making the sign of the cross.

  “Was that Latin?” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” Crixus answered. “I’m a little rusty, but I think he said, ‘blessed be this goldfish, for it is beautiful in my sight, and probably very tasty.’”

  Crixus stifled my gasp with a rough palm. “He’s in Saint Patrick mode. Don’t interrupt him. He’s likely to smite.”

  “What if he hurts Sigmund?”

  We both looked toward the aquarium, where Flick had discovered a tea bag and was swinging it back and forth like a censer.

  “He won’t,” Crixus said, turning my face to his. “I won’t let him.”

  “You let him kill me.”

  “But I brought you back.” Crixus regarded my distressed expression with genuine confusion.

  “First a death threat, then Rolly, and now a homicidal leprechaun,” I snorted. “This day is turning out to be spectacular, all right.”

  “You mean the valentine?” Crixus asked.

  “How do you know about that?” I found myself holding him in a guarded gaze, not entirely able to trust his concern.

  “It’s been humming around your subconscious ever since you opened the letter.”

  “So you heard that?”

  “Of course,” he said, helping me to my feet. “That’s why I came.”

  “Not because of Flick?” I asked, looking into his eyes.

  A disarming dimple appeared in his chin. “Okay, maybe both.”

  “I knew it! Here you are pretending like you’re doing me a favor by taking care of Rolly, when all the time you needed my help. You never think of anyone but yourself!”

  “That’s not true,” he said, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead. “I think about you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Okay, so you’re usually naked when I’m thinking about you, but that still counts.”

  “Not in my world it doesn’t,” I argued.

  “Just because I want you doesn’t mean I can’t be genuinely concerned about your welfare, Doctor,” Crixus replied.

  A rush of pleasure sank heat into my joints. Could he really want me?

  “Don’t ask
questions if you’re not ready for the answer.” His voice carried threats and promises too dark to belong in my sunny little office.

  I turned to meet his stare, confronting all it contained. “Can you help me?”

  “Yes. But whether I will depends upon the terms.”

  “What terms?” I felt myself shrinking beneath the weight of his unhampered regard.

  “If I help you, I’ll ask something in return. That’s the way it works.”

  “But I’m already giving you something in return. I’m helping you with your little friend.”

  “Believe me, Doctor,” Crixus said, tracing my collarbone with his finger, “there’s nothing little about my friend.”

  “The leprechaun,” I said.

  “Ah.” He continued down my sternum to the hook top button of my shirt. “But then I’m helping you with two things, and you’re only helping me with one.”

  “Your thing just killed me. You should look after five Rollys for the price of one Flick,” I pointed out.

  “My terms are my terms,” he said. “I’ll look into the gold on one condition.”

  “And that would be?” The air and space had vanished from my office, the room too small to hold me, Crixus, and Flick.

  Passion shot silver threads through his cobalt eyes. “You have to spend the night with me.”

  I blinked at him, half hoping I had heard wrong. “What?”

  “One night. That’s all I ask in exchange for the rest of your life.”

  “My life is being threatened, and you’re going to use that as leverage? For sex?”

  His grin was maddening and charming. “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t strike you as the least bit wrong?” I prodded.

  “I don’t deal in wrong and right,” he said. “There’s only what I want, and what I don’t. And I want you.”

  “Why?” I asked before the word could be called back.

  “If you don’t know,” he said, lips brushing my ear, “then I have more to teach you than I thought.”

  I took a deep breath and gave myself a moment to sort facts. Whatever Crixus had in mind had to be preferable to death. “How about you get a night after you figure out who sent me the note?” I countered.

  “Fair enough.” Crixus paced a circle around me. “But I’ll need a good faith payment to work from.”