None of that made any sense.
“Oh,” Tanya breathed, running a hand through her slightly messy hair and rubbing a droplet of sweat from her forehead. “This is Elle’s and Adora’s doing. I’ve been trying to decipher everything during the slow periods, but it’s not making much sense just yet. Probably because I still have so much to learn.”
“The slow periods?” I questioned, before my brain put two and two together. “You’re working here now?”
“Yeah,” Tanya grinned. “Adora offered me a job. She said that after everything that went down at the bar, she’d feel more comfortable if I was close by, so you all could keep an eye on me. Personally, I think she’s also a little bit worried I’ll wave to someone and set the whole bar on fire.”
“That’s not as much of an improbability as you might think,” I laughed. “They’ve been hard at work, huh?”
I wandered around the small space slowly, trying to figure out what the notes could mean, or which books might be the most helpful. Unfortunately, it seemed like a lot of gibberish to me. The notes were filled with sentence fragments and strange words I didn’t recognize. A few of them even had letters or symbols that I was pretty sure were Elvish in origin.
And the books looked like they hadn’t been opened in years. I wasn’t even sure where they could have come from. I highly doubted the library had a book titled Misdeeds and Misgivings of the Council of Hunters.
That seemed a little bit too revolutionary for what I’d seen from the rather structured magical world so far.
Just then, the bell over the front door rang, letting us know a customer had entered the shop.
“I’d better get back out there,” Tanya grinned. It warmed my heart to see that she was excited about this job, and all the things she could learn. To be honest, after the terrifying run in we'd all had with the masochistic hunters and their Council, I’d been afraid she’d change her mind and run away from us all.
“Have fun,” I told her, mirroring her grin.
“Oh, wait!” Tanya gasped, spinning around in the doorframe. “I forgot. Hunter brought you something. It’s on the counter by the sink.”
She breezed out of the break room then, and a few seconds later I heard her greet the customer with a voice that was way peppier than the one she'd used as a bartender.
“No need to worry, remember?” I reminded myself as I circled the break room and stopped by the sink, making a conscious effort to ignore the stacks of books and notes. The worry still tried to creep in, though, becoming a nasty little voice that hissed in the back of my mind, warning me of what would happen if any other witches found out what Mom and Grams were doing. It had become apparent to me that there was an unspoken rule in the magical world- we were supposed to accept the stories we’d been told about the fae, with no questions asked. The fae were evil, we were good, and that was the end of it.
Except it wasn’t.
Stop it, Shannon! I yelled at myself internally to try and drown out the nasty little critic.
My internal yelling may not have worked, but the little present Hunter had left for me certainly did. Next to the sink was a card and a bag of dark chocolate covered roasted almonds.
I couldn’t help but smile. And maybe blush just a little. I’d only mentioned my love of chocolate nuts to Hunter once, and yet here he was, delivering a bag of them to the store before I even came in for the day.
I popped a ball of nutty, chocolatey deliciousness into my mouth and leaned against the counter to open the card.
The front was a cartoon drawing of a plump red heart with a scraggly line drawn down the middle, signaling a broken heart. Underneath it the words “Sorry for Your Loss” had been typed in a thin font.
Confused, I opened the card up to see a few lines of Hunter’s messy scrawl.
I know you didn’t lose anyone, but I couldn’t find a card that said “sorry you found out you’re a half-fae rarity who's now being chased by both a deadly council of almost witches and some evil fae who want your magic.” Guess I’ll have to write in to the manufacturer to express my disappointment. So, this card will have to suffice. And maybe a date? Meet me on your front lawn tonight at seven.
X,
Hunter
I let out a choked half laugh when I finished reading. Somehow, Hunter managed to be both terrifyingly cynical and wonderfully calming all at the same time.
And he wanted to take me on a date.
I bit my lip, feeling like a blushing schoolgirl as I turned to make sure no one was coming into the break room. When I was satisfied the coast was clear, I allowed myself one moment of indignity, and jumped around in excitement.
Hunter wanted to take me on a date.
I couldn't think those words enough. Despite all of the other insanity that was going on around me, that one little fact felt like it was enough to overwhelm all of the worry and terror I hadn’t been able to escape for the last few days.
I, Shannon McCarthy, was going on my first real date in nearly twenty years.
It was only after the shocked excitement had worn off that I realized I had absolutely no idea how to actually go on a date anymore.
There was only one person who could help me with this dilemma. Someone who had been on more dates than the entire female population of Portland combined.
My mother.
“Nope!” Mom swooped down upon me with the speed and agility of an eagle, grabbing the soft pink lip gloss from my hand and replacing it with a tube of her signature red lipstick.
“Uh, no.” I shook my head, glancing down at the bright red hue. “I look like I should be picking up guys on Venice Boulevard with this lipstick.”
“Excuse me?” Mom demanded, raising one very annoyed eyebrow and puckering out her lips a bit to show me that they were painted in the very same red I’d just compared to one that hookers might wear.
But I couldn’t really be blamed for that. After all, the name of the lipstick was literally "Hoe It Up.” If that didn’t scream hooker, I didn’t know what did.
“It’s just Hunter,” I protested, grabbing for my lip gloss, which Mom was holding firmly out of reach. “I don’t need to do anything. The man's already seen me at my worst, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Each of us ran through a mental list of “my worst.” Like, the time Hunter thought I was an evil fae and tried to kill me. Or the time I was attacked by said evil fae and nearly died. Or just a few days ago, when the hunters had attacked all of us.
If he hadn’t run then, I highly doubted he’d run if I donned soft pink lip gloss instead of bright red lipstick.
Mom, on the other hand, looked wholly unamused. “You asked me for help, remember? Now, do you want it, or not?”
“Fine,” I sighed, knowing she was right. I had come home and sort of demanded that she help me appear less like a total fool than I truly was.
I turned back to the mirror, analyzing myself for a brief second. Not to sound egotistical, but I had to admit that I looked good. More like my old self- the one who wore designer clothes and made an attempt to look like she gave a crap about her appearance.
I had on a tight pink dress with a little ruffle around my waist to make it look a few inches slimmer than it actually was. I’d paired it with some shiny black heels and a creamy white purse. My red hair had been swept up into a French twist by Grams’ nimble hands, and Mom had insisted on doing my makeup. I forced myself not to lean too close and examine the faint crow’s feet around my eyes, or the sagging skin just below my neck.
I had to admit, the red lipstick paired well with the light gold eyeshadow and light blush she’d given me. I looked less like a hooker and more like a regular woman going on her first real date since her divorce.
“Oh, God,” I breathed as the memories washed over me.
I didn't love Kenneth anymore, don’t get me wrong. I didn't even like him. But the thing that people don't warn you about with dating after a divorcee is that every little moment brings up a memory.
Painful ones.
Like the day I’d first gone out with Kenneth, when I’d stood in front of a mirror like the one in my bedroom and swiped some lipstick over my lips.
DING DONG!
The clang of the doorbell managed to snap me out of my haze, and I straightened my shoulders quickly. So much for meeting him on the front lawn.
“He's here!” Marcella screeched, running down the hallway and past my bedroom like a living blur. I heard her booted footsteps clomp down the stairs as she raced to open the door.
“Geez,” Mom laughed. “Who’s going on the date, you or her?”
“Hunter!” Marcella’s voice purred from downstairs, so loud I was sure the entire neighborhood could hear.
“We’d better go save him,” I told Mom.
She nodded, and the two of us rushed out of the room before Marcella shoved Hunter into my bedroom and lock us in.
Sure enough, she had him in the foyer, pinned up against the door as she shot off a million questions.
“I just want to make sure you understand my expectations,” she was saying. “Now, say that you take her home with you—”
“Okay, thank you Marcella!” I hollered, half laughing and half in shock.
Hunter’s gray eyes flicked up to my face right then, and I couldn’t help but feel a little shiver of pride as his mouth nearly dropped open and a smile burst across his face. Within a second, he had deftly maneuvered around Marcella and crossed over to where I stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Suddenly, it was as if we were the only two people in the entire world. He came to a stop just inches away from me, looking down into my eyes with an expression of shock and wonder. Just knowing that I was able to make him feel that way was enough for me. I didn’t need any of the external validation I’d been worried about minutes before.
“You look beautiful.”
But it was definitely still nice to have.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I joked, motioning to the dark blue dress shirt that he’d tucked into a pair of dark denim jeans. As usual, he’d added his black boots, making him seem like some sort of cowboy.
His gray eyes sparkled, crinkling just a little bit around the edges, as he stepped back and offered me his hand. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” I nodded, putting my own hand in his. I should have felt a little silly doing that in front of Mom and Marcella, but they had all but disappeared.
I only had eyes for Hunter.
He led me out of the house and into the car, opening and closing doors for me all the way, and drove us down to the drive-in movie theater on the outskirts of town.
“You know about the 99W?” I asked him as he pulled in.
“I can Google,” he replied. He turned around and reached into the backseat, producing a little blue cooler, which he then put on the seat in between us.
“The truck is nice,” I told him, admiring the leather interior of the Ford Ram.
“I figured I’m a truck guy,” he shrugged. “Your Grams helped me out with the money aspect of it all.”
“Grams doesn’t have enough to buy this,” I pointed out.
“No,” Hunter grinned, “but she did a hell of a job in convincing the bank manager to turn my gold into real cash, no questions asked."
“I suspect a spell was involved,” I murmured appreciatively. Grams was a wicked smart witch.
“Hungry?” Hunter asked as the beginning credits started to roll. It was classic movie night, and we were about to watch one of my all-time favorite films- Vertigo.
“Always,” I replied.
Hunter pulled out two Italian subs from my favorite little deli, two bottles of Coke, and a thermos of popcorn.
Admittedly, I was floored and flattered at once. He’d put so much thought into the whole date. He'd picked my favorite drive-in theater, on a night it was showing my favorite film, and grabbed my favorite sandwiches.
I wasn’t sure why, but the sheer acts of thoughtfulness he displayed made me want to cry. It was wonderfully nice to feel so wanted.
“What’s wrong?" Hunter asked worriedly.
Damn. His hunter skills played against me in moments like this. He was too aware for his own good.
“It’s just nice, that's all,” I assured him quickly. “You knew exactly what I needed, and it’s just… No one’s ever done that for me before.”
A flash of anger cross Hunter’s eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come. Slowly, he leaned forward, until his face was just a few inches from mine.
“I chose you, Shannon,” he murmured. “And I’m going to show you what that means, each and every day. Got it?”
My breath hitched in my throat, forming a bubble and stopping any words from coming out. But I didn’t need to say anything. Hunter might not have his magic anymore, but he could still read me like an open book.
I nodded, closing my eyes and drinking in the feeling of having him so close. He smelled like wood and spices, soft and tangy all at once.
Suddenly, I felt his lips on mine. They were just as soft and tangy as he was, tasting of the fizzy Coke he’d sipped on moments ago, and blanketing me in a softness that was so opposite of the rough exterior Hunter presented to the rest of the world.
And I loved it.
I could hardly pay attention to the movie after that, even when he’d pulled away and unwrapped his sandwich. I slipped my hand in his and kept it there the entire time, letting it serve as a reminder to me.
Right now, things were good.
3
“God, that flavor is so gross,” I groaned as Hunter and I left the fancy new ice cream shop on Fourth Street. I’d tried it at Hunter's insistence, but there was no way I’d ever go back there again. Not when they had weird flavors like “Bee Pollen Rhubarb.”
Which was the exact one Hunter had ordered three whole scoops of. I, on the other hand, had decided to play it safe and only ordered one scoop of traditional chocolate. Even that one tasted weird, though. It was a bit yogurt-like and so bitter I couldn’t stand it.
“No, it’s delicious,” Hunter insisted, shoving another spoonful of the bright pink ice cream into his mouth. “You just can't see it because you’re too set in your ways.”
“That’s not true!” I gasped, slapping his arm. “I practically grew up in an ice cream shop, remember? God, I wonder what Aunt Deedee would say if I brought her here.”
“She would not be happy,” Hunter chuckled. “Maybe this should stay our little secret. I don’t need Deedee to hate me just yet.”
“Please,” I rolled my eyes, slipping my hand into Hunter’s. “That woman thinks you’re an angel from heaven. She’s always going on and on about…”
On second thought, Hunter probably didn’t need to know what my ninety-year-old aunt thought about his dreamy smile.
“What?” he demanded, his eyes flashing with mirth. The bastard already knew what I was about to say. “She’s always going on and on about what?"
“Nothing.” I shook my head forcefully and glanced away into the street, trying to hide from his inquisitive gaze.
Hunter paused at the stoplight before we crossed the street, gripping my hand just a little bit tighter.
We were almost back to the car. The notion of what that could mean sat between us, heavy and exhilarating all at once, though neither of us had the guts to bring it up just yet.
There were two options. Either we got in his car and he drove me home, where a house full of women and one ancient, dying elf awaited, or we drove back to his place. Option one meant that shenanigans were out of the question. And option two meant…
Well, the slight tingling in my lower stomach told me exactly what option two meant.
The cross light beeped, signaling that it was time to go, and the two of us started to wander toward the other side of the street, lingering just a bit.
“So, uh, should I take you home?” He asked, and I could hear the slight waver of nerves in his tone.
/> At his question, I started to feel hot and almost panicky. I started sweating, and it was like I couldn't breathe anymore.
My first thought was a panic attack. And I was pretty pissed at myself. I’d been with one guy for the last fifteen years, and now here was this beautiful man essentially asking if I wanted to sleep with him, and I had the audacity to have a panic attack?
But then the world around me started to go hazy and my feet stopped moving as if they’d been glued to the pavement, and I knew that this was definitely not a panic attack.
This was something magical. As usual.
“Shannon?” Hunter's voice seemed far away. I could feel him pulling on my hand, trying to get me to move as the light likely turned red and signaled that we should be well out of the crosswalk by now, but I couldn’t move.
Suddenly, though, the world faded away around me. But this wasn't a vision. I knew what a vision felt like. It was quick, and once the world faded, a new one would form around me. People would be doing things, talking, interacting with one another.
None of that was happening.
Instead, it was as if I was still standing on the exact same Portland street, but in a shadow world. The cars were gone, the people had disappeared, and all that was left were empty streets and dark buildings. It was so quiet I could have heard a pin drop. It was like one of those old Westerns.
The scene was set up. The tension had built. Tumbleweeds were blowing across the sandy roads.
So what was I waiting for? Where was I?
I had a distinct feeling that time had slowed down. I might have been a psychic of some sort, but this feeling was different. This was a deeply intuitive knowing- time was no longer the same. I wasn't in control.
Paranoia, Pixies and Prophecies Page 2