Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Beginnings

by Lydia Sherrer

  About ten minutes later, the lights in the bar flickered off and the pretty bartender came out, turning to lock the door behind her. The girl had never actually offered her name, though neither had he, come to think of it. He was considering this when he saw a dark shape approach. There was one working streetlight within view, but it cast such poor illumination over the scene it may as well have been off. When the dark shape stopped by the girl instead of continuing onward, Sebastian sat upright, body tensing.

  The two figures spoke in low voices. It was obvious they weren’t strangers. Sebastian was just starting to relax when the dark shape, now revealed in the faint lamplight to be a man, took hold of the girl’s arm and raised his voice. The girl protested sharply, tugging against the man’s grip and trying to back up, but he was much bigger than she.

  Before he could think about it rationally, Sebastian was out of his car and crossing the street. Despite his car’s age, the door hinges were well oiled and he left the door open, so there was no noise to alert the attacker of his approach. His brief hope of settling the argument with a few choice words were dashed when the man drew back his free hand and slapped the girl full in the face. The force of his blow whipped her head around and Sebastian could see the tears in her eyes as they shimmered in the dim lamplight.

  Then he was on them and delivering a series of swift jabs to the man’s rib cage, causing him to hunch over in pain, letting go of the girl and turning to face his attacker. Yet the man raised his hands too late to block Sebastian’s solid punch to his nose. Sebastian heard the crunch of cartilage and felt the pain on his knuckles even as the man reeled back, howling in pain. Putting himself between the angry man and the bartender, Sebastian started whispering. “Elwa Pilanti’ara. Pip, you listening? A full bottle of Captain Morgan and as many cocktail cherries as you can eat if you chase this sorry excuse for a human until he drops. Deal?”

  From somewhere above his head there was a tinkling laugh and what sounded like “wheeee” that moved quickly toward the man picking himself up off the pavement. Sebastian saw that he’d made the right choice, and only just in time. As the man reached behind him for what could only have been a gun, he suddenly yelped and slapped a hand to his ear. Sebastian heard the laugh again, from this distance sounding like the squeaking chirp of a hummingbird. The sound brought a wicked grin to his face, though from the man’s continuing yells, he didn’t share Sebastian’s mirth.

  The man was now waving his arms around his head as if trying to fend off a cloud of mosquitoes or a dive-bombing bird. In addition to the stream of blood coming from his nose, Sebastian saw pricks of blood on the man’s forehead, cheeks, and arms, as though something with tiny claws had been raking him. It was actually rather impressive how long the man stuck it out, slapping wildly about him with one hand while attempting to draw his weapon with the other. Each time he gave up with a yell, using both hands to snatch desperately at whatever was tormenting him. Finally, either his bravery or stupidity gave out. Swearing and throwing choice obscenities over his shoulder, he turned and hightailed it down the sidewalk, arms still waving about him. Little did he know that nothing would save him from what had been set in motion. Not until he dropped to the ground in exhaustion would his tormentor return to Sebastian to collect the promised payment. Sebastian tried not to feel too pleased with himself.

  “Wha—what was that?” a scared voice asked behind him.

  Whirling, Sebastian cursed himself for forgetting the girl. “Nothing. I just gave him a good pounding. Probably never had to deal with getting his butt handed to him on a platter before, and went bonkers. You okay? Let me take a look at that.” He drew closer to examine the girl’s face, knowing he couldn’t explain his unorthodox methods. What would he say? That he had a soft spot for the fae? Not even most witches would understand, much less this girl.

  The girl put up a reassuring hand, brushing him off as she touched her own face lightly, wincing. “No, it’s alright. Skin ain’t broke, just a bruise. What you did though…that wasn’t nothing. I heard something squeaking, like a mouse. But it was flyin’, an’….there was this little green light…” she trailed off, staring up into his face.

  Sebastian cursed inwardly. Most mundanes couldn’t see fae—not unless the fae revealed themselves on purpose. But sometimes they saw the markers of their presence, if they were actually paying attention. He shrugged, trying to play it off. “Really? I didn’t hear anything but that guy yelling.”

  “Yeah, there was definitely something there. Who are you?” The girl drew back, eyes searching his face in the dim light.

  “Just a regular guy trying to keep some thug from hitting a girl,” Sebastian said, shifting uncomfortably and sticking his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t one to hide who he was, just selective about when and where he advertised it. Cute bartenders weren’t exactly his customer demographic, and he’d counted on the confusion and darkness to obscure his actions. Apparently this bartender had more than her fair share of curiosity. It reminded him of Lily, which made him smile.

  “Look, I’d love to stand here chatting, but I don’t have a death wish. That guy might come back with his buddies. Is there somewhere safe I can take you?”

  She nodded, still looking shell-shocked. “My apartment’s jus’ down the street.”

  Guiding her to his car, he apologized for the trash and settled her into the passenger seat. She directed him several blocks down to a sorry-looking bit of project housing and he escorted her up to her apartment on the second floor, eyes scanning every dark corner for threats.

  Her apartment was so small he suspected she only had it to get away from an overbearing family. Just because family should stick together didn’t mean they all needed to share the same living space. Despite its size it was tidy, with cheery yellow curtains framing the only window and a few fake flowers in a vase on the tiny excuse for a kitchen table.

  The girl got out two cokes, holding one to her bruised face and handing him the other. Nodding in thanks, he took it. When she gestured for him to sit at the cramped table, he politely declined, leaning against the kitchen counter instead as he opened his coke and sipped contentedly. Finally, a girl who knew how to treat a guy. Not that he didn’t appreciate Lily’s excellent baking skills. But seriously, did she ever drink anything but tea?

  Sitting down at the tiny table, the girl rubbed the un-bruised side of her face vigorously before opening her own drink and taking a long swig. With a sigh of contentment, she held it back up to her bruise and looked at Sebastian. “Well, seein’ as how you’re in my apartment an’ like as saved my life, we’d best introduce ourselves afore anything else. I’m Pearl Harris.”

  “And I’m Sebastian Blackwell. A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, holding out a hand to shake hers.

  “Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me,” she said with a grin, grasping his hand firmly. Despite her small size, Pearl had quite a grip. “An’ thank you for saving me. That was my ex. He won’t take a hint, but I never figured he’d…” she stopped, eyes distant and sad, then shook her head. “It don’t matter. He’s gone now, and I owe you. Least I can do is help you find Cory. He was such a sweetheart, I can’t imagine anyone hurtin’ him.”

  Sebastian scratched his head. “Well, I’m glad you see that in him, because the last time I saw him he ransacked my house.”

  “No!” Pearl gasped, sitting up straight in shock. “Something terrible musta happened for him to do a thing like that.”

  “I’ll say,” Sebastian growled. “But honestly I’m tired of helping him. No matter what anyone does, he goes right back to the bottle and gambling. I should’ve known better than to let him in my house. He’s probably in a lot of debt and stole my things to pay someone off. It’s a douchebag thing to do, but I understand being in a tight spot. Been there a few times myself. Problem is, he took a family heirloom that’s rather…well let’s just say it’s very important to me. I need it back. That’s why I’m trying to find him. And of course to make sur
e he’s still alive,” he amended at the look of disapproval on Pearl’s face.

  Her expression softened, and she sighed deeply. Sebastian recognized that look. It was the look of helpless sadness you felt when someone you cared about was in trouble, but you could do nothing to help. Not because you didn’t try, but because they refused to change the habits that got them into trouble in the first place.

  “Look, why don’t you tell me what you know, and maybe that will help me find him. I’ll make sure he’s okay and help in any way I can.” His coin, pressed against his leg by the material of his pants, warmed only slightly. He wouldn’t kill Cory, that was for sure. And he didn’t expect to ever see his money again. If only he got that artifact back, he would consider them even. That was helping, right?

  Pearl searched his face and was apparently satisfied with what she saw, because she leaned back in her chair and started talking, taking sips of her coke between sentences. “Cory’s been comin’ ’round to my family’s bar for a few years now. A real regular, that one. He ain’t always there the same day or time, but he always comes. He’s a quiet drunk, an’ a sad one. He jus’ nurses his drink in a corner, or up at the bar, real quiet like. Sometimes, though, he needs someone to talk to, so we’d talk. Bless his heart, he’s likely the sweetest fool I ever met, ’cause he can’t keep his trap shut when he’s got the drink in him. He’s told me all about everything, his gambling debts, his life ’afore all this, even one of his friends. Tall, dark gent named Seb.” She smiled up at him, eyes twinkling for a moment. Then she cast her eyes down to her coke, lost back in her memories. “Anyhow, I listened. Told him I cared. Shared some of my own sorrows. We grew close. He dreamt of gettin’ outta gambling an’ drinking, I dreamt of gettin’ outta that bar. But every day, he was there, and so was I.

  “But one time, ’bout two weeks ago, he came in all agitated. Usually he’s pretty laid back, easygoing, you know? But that night he took fright at every lil’ thing. Jumpy as a mouse. He tol’ me he’d done something real bad, got in with the wrong crowd. But soon he was gonna fix it an’ never have to worry again, he said.”

  Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Did you get any more specifics?”

  “Here an’ there,” Pearl said, nodding. “His words was all jumbled, he was so nervous. But sounded like he’d been running drugs to pay off debts an’ had figured out a scheme to pay ’em all off an’ go away someplace safe.”

  “Hmm…I don’t like the sound of that,” Sebastian commented. “Only way he could do that would be stealing or scamming. Then he’d have to run. That would explain his disappearance.”

  Pearl nodded. “Sounds ’bout right.”

  “Did he ever say who he was working for?”

  Looking furtively back and forth, probably at the paper-thin walls of her cheap apartment, Pearl leaned in and whispered, “Southland Brothers.” Sebastian’s ears pricked, and things started to make sense. “Round here, though, we call ’em Southland Bastards. They ain’t the biggest gang in Atlanta, but they big enough to make people afraid. An’ they got a mean streak. They may say brothers, but it ain’t no brotherhood. Give ’em another couple years an’ they’ll fall apart, or get busted. Us normal folk, we jus’ try an’ keep our heads low an’ go ’bout our lives. Poor Cory, he thought he had a big break. A way out. Now he’s in a ditch somewhere, more’n likely.”

  “Well, if he’s still alive, I’ll find him,” Sebastian said. No need to mention how he planned on doing that, including what Fester Jones had coming to him for sending Sebastian on a wild goose chase through Atlanta’s most unsavory holes when that Southland Bastard probably knew exactly where Cory was. He should’ve paid closer attention to his coin.

  “I sure hope you do,” Pearl said, interrupting his train of thought. “Now, afore you start thinking ’bout leaving, you gonna explain what you was doin’ back there?” She smiled at Sebastian’s look of dismay. “No, I ain’t forgot.”

  He chuckled ruefully, setting down his coke on the counter and facing Pearl. Usually he only spoke of his witchcraft with paying clients. But something about Pearl made him want her understanding, her acceptance. “I could tell you, I guess. But you won’t believe me.”

  She cocked her head. “Try me.”

  He reached in his pocket and handed her one of his business cards. She took a moment to read it, eyebrows rising higher and higher, almost disappearing into her hairline. She gave him an incredulous look, and he could tell she was caught between laughing in disbelief and laughing at him for being serious. He was used to it. Sometimes the truth was stranger than fiction.

  “You’re a witch?” she asked, obviously unsure what to think.

  “Yep. Curses and all.”

  She didn’t laugh. Instead, she looked thoughtful. “But…curses, they don’t squeak. Yore tryin’ to make me think you’re crazy, so’s you don’t have to explain. But I know what I heard back there.”

  “You’re right, you caught me,” Sebastian said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I have a pet bat.”

  Pearl did laugh that time. “Really, now. Stop messin’ with me.”

  “Okay, okay, I don’t have a pet bat. But I am a witch. I know where to find backup if I need it.” He gave her a roguish wink.

  She still didn’t look convinced. “Backup. You mean like ghosts or something?”

  “Maybe. Sometimes.” He shrugged. “But ghosts tend to be single-minded and motivated by a goal unique to why they stayed behind. They don’t make good backup.”

  “So, what’s the noise I heard?” she persisted, eyebrows raised.

  Sebastian sighed. “A little friend of mine named Pip. Now, I don’t want to be keeping you—”

  “Wait, like, a fairy or something?” Pearl interrupted him.

  Deciding to reward her open-minded persistence, he finally gave a real answer. “Pixie, actually. Suckers for hard liquor. They have an addiction problem, the little blighters. Easy to bribe in a pinch, you just have to follow through or they’ll make your life hell.”

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice. There was a long silence as she stared at her coke. “But…” she said after a moment, hesitating, “I thought witches used ghouls an’ demons an’ creepy critters like that?”

  He shrugged again, picking up his coke for a drink. “They can. Some do. I don’t.” Not anymore, he added to himself. He’d learned his lessons the hard way.

  “So, you gonna put a curse on Cory?” she asked, finally looking up at him, eyes searching.

  Sebastian almost snorted his swig of coke up his nose at her question. Coughing, he put the coke down again and cleared his throat. “As satisfying as it would be to see him dance, no. I wouldn’t curse a friend, even if he is a scumbag.”

  “Now, don’t go talkin’ ’bout him like that,” Pearl scolded, looking relieved. “He got his problems, sure enough. But ’neath all that’s a good heart.”

  “More likely, he just cleans up his act for a pretty lady,” Sebastian said, winking.

  At least the whole thing wasn’t a bust, he thought, looking at Pearl. Maybe, someday, he could get to know her better. She seemed awfully nice to live in such a rundown place. Someday, he wanted to know her hopes and dreams, her plans for the future. Maybe he could help her get to wherever she hoped to go. Someday. But not today. Today he had a mission, and it involved quite a bit of butt-kicking.

  “Thanks for the coke, Pearl, and the information. I stand by my original statement, that you’re a deserving girl, not to mention pretty.” He winked at her. “I’ll try to keep Cory away from bars. Well, away from Atlanta in general if I can help it. If you never see him again, then I’ve done my job. But maybe I’ll pop in sometime to say hello.”

  Pearl smiled and nodded. “You gonna pull a rabbit outta a hat for me someday?”

  Pushing himself off the counter, he chuckled. “Now you’re getting witches mixed up with magicians. If I need a rabbit I’ll find a pet store. I can, however, bring you flowers.” As he spoke, he leaned
forward and produced a flower from behind Pearl’s ear. Of course, it was only one of the plastic flowers from the vase on her table which he’d snagged using sleight of hand. But the trick put a smile on her face all the same.

  “I’d like that,” she said.

  “So would I,” Sebastian assured her. “So would I.”

  * * *

  This time he kept the screen door open, waiting on the crumbling doorstep after giving Fester Jones’ door a firm knock. When it finally cracked open, he abandoned all semblance of decorum and shoved his foot in the gap, getting enough leverage to force the door all the way open. Fester stumbled back, Sebastian’s aggression taking him by surprise. Knowing he was in trouble, the scrawny man tried to scramble away, but Sebastian was quicker. Catching him with a solid cuff on the side of the head, he knocked the man off balance and got a firm grip on his collar, pushing him against the wall. Surprisingly, that was all he needed to thoroughly cow Fester, who now shook like a leaf, a mocking testament to the proud gang symbol tattooed on his wrist.

  “So. Fester,” Sebastian began, voice deceptively calm. “Tell me again how you haven’t seen Cory in ‘a spell.’ Tell me again how you have no idea where he is or what’s happened to him. Go on, tell me. I dare you.”

  “O—o—okay, okay!” the man stammered, eyes wide and fearful. “He—he’s in a safe house. I can show you where on a m—map.”

  Sebastian’s coin blazed hot in his pocket. “Liar. Try again.” He put more pressure on the man’s neck.

  “Geeze, okay! S—stop it, will you?” Fester gasped, pushing feebly against Sebastian’s grip. Sebastian let up a bit. “I ain’t seen him in weeks. He—he got himself in trouble. Big trouble. Took off. There’s some guys lookin’ for him, probably got him by now. How ’bout I set up a meet, okay? You can ask them. They’ll know where he is.”