So how had I just heard him whispering to me?
And…
How had he gotten down here in the first place?
I would definitely have to teach him some manners, thinking he was bold enough to tell me how I would react at him flirting with me. Please. Better men than him had tried, and partly succeeded in attracting my attention. At least for a time.
But as I stomped down the stairs again, I realized another thing. I was smiling absently as I replayed our back and forth arguments.
I forced my smile away. Heavy bag. Definitely heavy bag.
But I knew one thing. Temple had some tricks to teach me. Some things that even Roland apparently didn’t know. And that dinner was the ticket to learning them.
Chapter 23
I walked into the restaurant just before noon, scanning the customers nervously. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I had decided to go, other than the fact that it was a slice of normal in an otherwise chaotic chain of recent events. Father David in the hospital, a Demon stalking me…
And the encounter with Nate had caught me off guard. Not wanting to be sucked into his words, I had decided that I did indeed deserve a date, even if it was innocent. Worst case, I would get some practice for my hopefully upcoming dinner with Nate. Not that I particularly wanted dinner with Nate, but dinner with him meant we had succeeded.
And I needed to succeed. At all costs, according to Roland.
I saw Johnathan sitting at a table in the back. He had already spotted me, and was smiling with pleasure as he motioned me closer. I dipped my head at the hostess, pointing to him, and she smiled back, waving me on.
I made my way to the table, somewhat nervous. It had been a while since I had gone on a date, and I didn’t feel particularly clever or coy today. I had too many other things on my mind. I decided to simply relax and have a good time.
“You look great,” he smiled, motioning for me to sit down.
“Thanks. You don’t look too shabby yourself,” I smiled. He was wearing a casual dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tight-fitting pair of jeans. I could tell that his clothes — although casual and less nerdy than he had worn at the bar — were of fine quality.
He chuckled, sitting down only after I had seated myself. I had wanted to wear a light dress, but knowing that the choice would imply I attached great importance to our date, I had chosen to go with a nice pair of jeans and a loose blouse. Dressed nicely, but no nicer than if I had decided to run to Target, or something.
Two glasses of iced tea sat on the table. He noticed my look and smiled guiltily. “Seemed like a decent guess, but order whatever you want,” he said hurriedly.
I nodded, considering. I almost wanted to order something different just to trip him up, but iced tea did sound good. A waitress approached, smiling at me. “Could I have a slice of lemon, please?” The waitress nodded, departing quickly. That would work. Not entirely accepting his order, but not rejecting it, either.
He smiled at me knowingly — at least it seemed that way. But perhaps it was just amusement, and I was overly paranoid after my rough morning.
“So, Callie, what do you do when not dressed extravagantly at lousy bars?”
I smiled. “I work at a church.”
He grimaced. “Oh.”
I wanted to burst out laughing, imagining his train of thought. A train dying in a fiery explosion as he realized he had asked a religious girl out on a lunch date. “I’m not religious. I just work there part-time as an office manager of sorts. A glorified secretary, really,” I lied.
His grin slowly returned. “That sounds…” he struggled to find a complimentary word.
“Boring?” I asked softly.
He opened his mouth to deny it, but then seemed to drop all pretenses. “Horrible, actually.”
I began laughing. “Well, seems like you have the right of it. And I’m glad you were honest. I like that.”
“I’ll always be honest,” he said. I arched a brow at him, and his grin turned guilty. “Okay, you caught me. I almost lied there, but I’m usually very honest. Blunt, even.”
I waved off his concern as the waitress returned. I ordered a salad, not because I was one of those die-hard calorie counters or anything, but because I hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu, and it sounded refreshing after my workout. And considering our likely activities tonight, I didn’t want a heavy meal.
All in all, our lunch progressed like a game of chess. At least for me.
We passed the time in idle chatter, him peppering me with questions, seeming very interested in getting to know me. And not just the typical cliché date checklist. He asked insightful questions, almost as if he had taken a psychology class on how to impress women the right way. At the same time, I hadn’t once caught an innuendo that he wanted more. And I had provided him plenty of openings to use as he would. To test him. But he glazed over those without pause, pressing me on other things. What kind of person I was. What I wanted to be when I grew up. That, with a smile on his face to quash the retort that I was already grown up.
“Me, I want to be a firefighter, or a fire engine.” Then he flashed me a roguish grin, making fun of himself, and repeating what every three-year-old boy would have said.
“I’m not really sure what I want to be when I… grow up.”
Before we had gotten into talking, I had subconsciously probed him with my magic, wondering if he was a Freak like me. I knew he wasn’t a wizard or shifter, and was almost surprised to find out that he was just a Regular.
I had tried dating Regulars in the past, but it had never worked out. Despite how nice they were, the goals that drove them were entirely alien to me, even though I didn’t quite know what my goals were. They wanted money, or a nice job, or a big family, or the nicest car or house on the block.
But… all of those things just sounded like purgatory to me. Boring. And dating a Regular would mean I had to hide the biggest part of myself from them.
Not even considering the few Regulars that had suddenly grown very interested to hear I worked at a church, almost as if it were a sign that I was immediately fertile, ready to settle down, be obedient, and start cranking out babies. A beautiful, tame cat to be placed on a shelf, or tucked inside an expensive minivan or Cadillac Escalade.
Those dates had ended very quickly, much to their shock.
So, a small part of me grew very disappointed to find that this interesting nerd would ultimately lead to another life of boredom. Not that I was looking for my one true love, but knowing it was destined for failure from the start kind of put a speed-bump on the date. Even though he didn’t know it yet.
I maintained my façade through the conversation, keeping these thoughts from my face, but I found him watching me more intently, almost as if sensing something. I bit back a sigh, answering his questions and asking a few of my own, hoping I wasn’t sounding rude or uncaring.
But my thoughts wandered.
I had even tried dating Freaks a few times. They were fine, but a consistent trait usually seemed to rear up, even if well-hidden at first. It was that every single Freak I had met ultimately wound up wanting more from the world. More power. More fame. More something. And they saw my magic as a tool to achieve that. They all seemed power-hungry.
So, my love life was pretty nonexistent. Regulars were too boring, Freaks were too power-hungry. Like Goldilocks, one bed was too soft, another too hard, one porridge was too cold, another too hot. I had yet to find the one that was just right.
Then again, I knew I had baggage of my own. A broken past that haunted me.
I realized that the conversation had faded, and that I was absently staring off towards the doors, waiting for a cue to leave. We had finished our meals, and although I had had a good time, I realized I was ready to get back to the task at hand, to meet up with Nate to plan—
“I have an admission to make, and you might think I’m crazy for it…” He adjusted his glasses on his nose, a nervous gesture.
> I sighed inwardly. He was going to profess his undying love for me, or a request for a second date, or his grand plans at achieving greatness in the Regular world. Although that was great for him, it held zero interest to me. I opened my mouth to politely tell him that I really had to go.
“I think…” his eyes darted around the room, as if verifying we were alone, “magic is real.” He leaned closer. “Call me crazy, but I’ve watched a lot of videos that make me believe it must be real.” He studied my face, waiting for a reaction.
I simply stared at him as if he had sprouted horns. He must have taken my reaction poorly, because he quickly pressed on. “I’m not some conspiracy theorist, but I’ve spent quite a bit of time researching it…”
Maybe not your typical Regular after all… I could imagine this handsome nerd spending hours trolling the dark web for proof of magic. It almost made me smile.
“That is… very brave for you to admit.”
He grunted, shrugging off my statement. “It’s not like you’re one of them.” His eyes grew faraway. “I’ve seen things myself, too. Unexplainable things. Truly amazing things. Just imagine how much better the world would be if they didn’t have to hide it… They must be real.” He added this last with a firm voice, then seeing my calm reaction, he leaned closer again. “What do you think, Callie?” he asked excitedly. “Am I nuts?”
I hesitated for a long time, taking calm breaths, using my power to check him again. I sensed nothing familiar about him. Not a wizard, not a shifter, not a vampire. Just a particularly observant Regular. I finally nodded. “I… believe it’s real, too. But I’m not sure the world is ready to hear it yet.”
His smile was positively stunning. I hid my own smile by taking a drink. “I knew I couldn’t be the only one. I just wish I knew one of them so that I could help them. Talk to them about it.”
I nodded absently. “Keep your eyes out, but be careful. I’m sure many of them wouldn’t want to be discovered. Might even be alarmed that you believe…” I trailed off, trying to impart a warning.
He nodded agreement. “True. But there has to be a way I can convince them I don’t mean any harm.” He adjusted his glasses again, preparing to stand before realizing that would be rude. “I’m sorry. I forgot. It’s just… my mind is running a million miles an hour, now.” He smiled sheepishly.
“I need to get going anyway. We should… do this again sometime.”
He nodded as he stood, then held out a hand. I took it, still searching for a tingle of something, wondering if I knew enough to check for every flavor of supernatural, but I knew I could only tell what I had experienced. Still, perhaps I could sense something different, even if I didn’t know what it was. Other than the familiar tingle of excitement from grabbing the hand of someone new, exciting, and fresh — that of a new man — I felt nothing alarming.
I mentally kicked myself for being so paranoid. I didn’t want to live my life like Roland.
Johnathan walked me to my truck, and left as if floating a foot above the ground, his excitement over a comrade in arms overshadowing our date. I smiled to myself as I started my truck.
Whenever boys came into the picture, there was really only one thing a girl could do.
Talk to daddy.
Chapter 24
As I left the restaurant, I turned on the air in the truck. The humidity outside caused fog to invade the windshield after barely a minute. I had a good twenty-minute drive ahead of me to reach my dad’s house, but with the spear business for Roland, a Demon, and Father David injured, I felt it important to see him. He kept me grounded during stressful times. My anchor.
So, I used the drive to try and clear my head, because my dad was good at reading me, and could pester like no one’s business.
But I also wanted to master my nightmare, or daymare, I guess. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Nate, freezing up at the worst possible moment. I decided to go back to the beginning in my mind again, rationalize the sequence of events, ruthlessly showing myself that I had nothing to be afraid of. It was just a stupid fear.
It couldn’t hurt me. With a deep breath, I let the fear in.
A church. Rain pouring down. Streetlight glowing over me like my own moon. Crying. A door slowly opening before me—
I braved the storm, and then did it again.
And again. And again. Numbing myself to its effects.
After ten minutes, I was breathing deeply, but… I found that the last time I had braved it without an ounce of fear, remembering Claire’s strength, and using it as a beacon. An example.
I thought of Roland, standing beside me, training me, holding me up. And my smile stretched wider. I was doing it, I smiled to myself, noticing I was at my dad’s exit on the highway.
I can do this!
Still smiling, I exited the highway, turning down the air a little bit as I thought about all the good things in my life. A kick-ass, nerdy best friend. A great childhood. Loving daddy waiting to see me in a few minutes. My now-deceased mother watching over me jealously as I drove to see her true love, her husband. I could imagine her feigned glare even now.
My mother had worked at a hospital, and had been a saint in her own right. She had taught me the importance of beauty.
Inner beauty.
But inner beauty came from confidence and pride — which she determined was through how one presented themselves for the world to see. Dress nicely, not like a slob, she had reprimanded me often. She had taught me fashion from a young age. Not to chase trends, but to hunt down the garments and accessories that spoke to me. She believed they drifted in the world like broken whispers of my soul, and that it was my duty as a woman to reclaim them.
I smiled, thanking her silently, as my thoughts drifted to the man she had loved most.
My father worked at a community college in town, a professor of Mythology. He spent his days dealing with students simply trying to fill out one of their general education requirements, but he enjoyed it, and constantly declared that he was the luckiest man alive. To do something he loved for no other reason than that he loved it. He had always taught me that there was truth to myths, or if not truth, at least valid lessons to learn. He treated religion, philosophy, and myth as different sides of the same pyramid, not religious himself.
And thanks to Roland, he knew my secrets, and loved me anyway. As had my mom.
I shook my head, feeling marginally better. Embracing my fears had helped me, acknowledging my demons in a moment of peace, so that, hopefully, when they struck again I would be better armored. We would see.
Chapter 25
I pulled up to the small house and parked in the driveway. Nothing fancy, just a two-story, cookie-cutter, urban sprawl home, complete with a small yard and freshly cleaned siding. A pickup truck similar to mine, older, yet kept in immaculate shape, sat parked in the drive.
My father sat on the porch, eyes dancing with joy as I climbed out of the truck. I smiled back, quickly jogging up to the covered porch. It was going to storm soon, judging by the clouds. It had been raining for weeks, pretty much non-stop.
“Callie,” my dad smiled, patting the chair beside him. Terry Penrose was a solid man, filling the space on the porch like a king looking over his fiefdom. He wasn’t a harsh lord, but he exuded pride and protection over his minions — his garden. Even if it was a small pride, he owned it. And he treated that garden as well as he had treated me in my childhood. He was a man with a lot of love. This was his house, by thunder, and nothing could say otherwise. Two rocking chairs and a small table were all that decorated the wide, covered porch. We usually sat to watch storms together, drinking coffee and munching on cookies, snuggled under blankets to protect ourselves from the mist of ricocheting raindrops or strong winds. One of our favorite pastimes.
Especially after my mother, Sarah, had died of cancer years ago.
Well, even before that. But there had been three chairs, then.
“You look troubled, honey…” he said,
studying me.
I nodded, deciding not to try and hide it. “I had another of those daydreams. While I was training.” He let out a fatherly sigh and held out his arms. I smiled, feeling seven years old again as I raced up the steps and wrapped him in a big hug. The protective cloud of musk aftershave wrapped me up protectively.
That smell was a sense of comfort to me. Familiarity. He had worn it forever. Because my mother had loved it. He had tried changing it a few years ago, and I had reacted like he was having a mid-life crisis, refusing to let him. He had been shocked at first, until he saw my very real tears. Then he had wrapped me up in a hug just like this one. I had tried to convince him to buy a sports car rather than change that cologne, that cologne that was buried in my soul, a smell of comfort, protection, love, and family.
He didn’t buy the car, but he didn’t change his cologne, either.
“It wasn’t that bad. It just caught me off guard,” I mumbled into his chest, inhaling the cologne and trying to absorb strength from his physical solidity.
“Tell me about it,” he said, unfolding his arms and motioning towards my chair.
I had a coffee cup shoved in my hands before I knew it, and found myself talking, letting it all out, allowing him to help shoulder the weight that had been pressing me down. I told him about the last few days, leaving out the dangerous details that I didn’t want him to concern himself with. He listened patiently, nodding as he gave me his undivided attention.
“I just… I keep freezing up. I know all these things,” I waved my hands with a hiss of exasperation. I saw no neighbors, and was turned enough so that anything I did could be concealed. I suddenly had an energy stick in my hand, but dimmed down to a less powerful level so that it barely glowed. Then I shifted it to a kama, the single-handed scythe. Then I let it stretch out into a small spear. As I did this, my black fan bloomed into existence above my other palm, rippling slightly in a breeze that was nonexistent. My dad shook his head wistfully, smiling.
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