by Brea Viragh
“Why do I feel like you want me to apologize for something?” I wanted to know.
Her frown deepened and I could tell she didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. Odd, considering that snide byplay was one of her specialties. “We haven’t had a chance to get you anything yet. I’m sorry. I was planning to go shopping this weekend. Luke!” she snapped out. “Come say hello to your cousin.”
“It’s fine,” I insisted. “I’m not going to stay long. And don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m going to burst into flames at any moment and start flinging curses around. After all this time, you should know. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”
Once a skeptic, always a skeptic. Her unique ability to cause her niece discomfort was something miraculous to behold. “I know you won’t. It’s just…well, it’s weird, Mariella. It’s weird and it’s evil.”
“I’m not weird. And I’m not evil. I think it’s horrible you’d even suggest it.”
Lynn pushed her hair out of her face. It didn’t move. “I didn’t suggest anything. Do you want to sit down and have a little something to eat?”
“No, I’d rather not. It was stupid to come. I’ll stop by for a little bit on Christmas. Here.” I shoved the plastic bags at her, only then remembering I hadn’t bothered to take any of the price tags off. Oops. At least she wouldn’t be surprised.
“You’re leaving already?” She couldn’t disguise the hint of pleasure in her voice.
I jerked my boots back onto my feet. “Yeah, it’s fine. The snow.” It wouldn’t be the first time I used the weather as an excuse. “I just wanted to pop in and give you those. See you in a couple of weeks.”
“Mariella—”
I rushed out the door before I had to endure another second of forced conversation where we both knew we hardly tolerated the other. Why did I continue to put myself through this? I wondered.
**
One week later, I started awake from a nightmare, my throat dry and my heart beating like it was trying to make a break for it. It happened sometimes. Part and parcel of having a demon sharing your soul.
Or whatever it was she did.
I had nightmares every night, actually, although some were worse than others. I couldn’t tell if it was my mind conjuring horrible things or if I was somehow seeing her memories of Hell. I preferred the former. I think.
I sat up in bed and put my hand to my chest, trying to get my lungs to quit working overtime. I had a few techniques I used to keep calm, after learning over the years what worked and what didn’t. Deep breathing helped. Prayers not so much.
The sun peeked through the curtains and fell in cold rays on the carpet. Morning already. Whatever terrible images I’d had in my head were already fading. At least I didn’t remember anything horrible.
Glancing down at my arm, I saw no new writing. Only the old scars still fading from yesterday’s memos. It was another normal day in my life.
Except today, I had business. Dax’s check had bounced. Not only bounced but when I called the bank to inquire about the funds, they had no good news to tell me. Nothing specific, mind you, only that the money wasn’t there. For a week. A full week of fighting to get the funds to fix my car and finding the brick wall in front of me unyielding.
Not to mention the phone number on the card, which came up with the same message every time I dialed. Mailbox full. Mailbox full? What kind of man didn’t answer his phone? Or clear out his voicemail?
The kind that didn’t want to be found.
I had to hike up my big girl pants and follow through. There was an address on the card for an office complex fifteen minutes away in downtown Bridgeport. With the sky sunny and the snow melted from the ground, I was clear for takeoff. Which meant Dax was going to have to buckle in for the tongue lashing of a lifetime. It would be the sort of outwardly aggressive expression I needed to clear some of the worry from my shoulders and stress from my mind.
I had no doubt Cer would agree.
“I’m going to do this,” I told her. I hoped she was listening. “I’m not going to let a suave and debonair creep get away with plucking my feelings like a harp and giving me a bad check. I might not be intimidating, but you’ll back me up if things get hairy. Right? Isn’t that why you’re here?”
No answer. Typical.
I wasn’t interested in breakfast and opted for an early start. The car sped down the road with little resistance thanks to my miracle bumper fix. Duct tape. It kept the damaged parts in place long enough to get me from A to B without a shower of sparks following me.
While driving, I thought about Lynn. I thought about my dead-end job developing and implementing creative marketing strategies for an online company out of New York. Maybe it was time to move to a different state. After I turned eighteen, I’d stayed within a two-block radius of my aunt and rented a crappy one-bedroom apartment within walking distance. Partly because I thought it was better to be close if she needed me. Partly for financial reasons. I wasn’t made of money, and I was forced to work from home unless I wanted to risk someone spotting the scars on my arm.
My thoughts continued to run wild on the drive. At least the office complex was relatively easy to find. I worked on those deep breathing exercises and pulled into an open space, then double checked the numbers. Checked them again for good measure. Yes, I was in the right spot. Then I noticed the fine print at the bottom of the card. Just below the zip code.
“He’s an antiques dealer?” I squeaked.
It seemed wrong, somehow. It wasn’t the picture I’d gotten from him. Nothing about him screamed antiques. Not the tattoos and definitely not the gold hoops in his ear. This might just turn out to be one of the strangest days of my life. I hoped the twist in my gut wasn’t a premonition of bad things to come.
“Whatever he is, he’s going to get it.”
I zipped my coat for good measure and spared one last look at myself in the mirror. My blue eyes were too innocent. Dax would never think I was hardboiled. I practiced drawing my brows down, crinkling my nose, and raising one side of my mouth in a snarl. Now I looked deranged.
A little tweaking and soon I had the perfect scowl.
“Okay, you butthole,” I whispered to myself but directing it to Dax. “Time to pay up. No, I mean literally pay up. Because you promised to fix my car and I’m not walking out of there without cash in hand. I have an estimate for the repairs and my insurance agent on speed dial. So don’t even think about messing with me.”
Grabbing my keys and scarf, I locked the car and hurried across the lot toward the front door to Rohn Antiques.
The door opened on a gust of dry air bringing with it the slightly musty smell of history from other people’s treasured possessions. The showroom was kept shadowed with dim lights coming from several floor lamps and chandeliers hanging from an ornately plastered ceiling. The decorations were tasteful, with the best pieces in the back and the furniture growing larger the farther I walked.
“Hello?” I called out. “Anyone home?”
I wandered past a rosewood secretary and let my fingers trail along the polished top. The space was formal, with a quiet charm. It didn’t take long to notice the security cameras stationed throughout the room recording my every move. I walked from one spot to another with a distracted air of someone killing time. Trying to gather my nerve.
“May I help you, ma’am?”
It was through sheer willpower I didn’t spring out of my shoes. I tried not to look spooked when I turned to the clerk. Who hadn’t answered me when I called out earlier, might I add. “Yes, please. I’m here to talk to Mr. Parker.”
The man looked confused. “Who?”
He was dressed in a sleek navy-blue suit that made him look too skinny. He quickly managed to size me up and dismiss me as a browser.
“Mr. Parker. Dax. He, um, gave me this card the other day.” I fumbled around in my pocket until I managed to take hold of the paper, worn from t
he oils of my worrying fingers. “I need to talk to him about the car accident.”
“Car accident?”
“Yeah, he hit my car. Is he in?”
“I’ll go check.” The clerk slipped away.
I could only hope he’d do as promised and not just stand in the back room and wait for me to leave.
Seconds later I heard, “It’s Mariella, isn’t it?”
I squealed and spun around. Face to face with a not-so-smiley Dax. “Blerg.” I admit the word sounded better in my head. Slipping off the tongue, it was nothing short of a gargle. He looked better the second time around, I decided, in tight jeans and a button-up blue shirt left open to reveal a V of dusky skin and dark tattoos beneath his chest hair. The blue color made his green eyes even greener.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking displeased. Was it something I said? Or didn’t say?
“Um, yeah. Hi. I need to talk to you.” Blood pounded in my ears.
Dax shook his head. “No. No, no, no.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
A surprised chuckle rumbled in my throat. “That’s the second time you’ve told me that.”
“Get out of the building right now,” he replied, doing his best to shoo me out the door without touching me. I might have been intimidated if I wasn’t so confused.
I didn’t know what stunned me more—him wanting to boot me out or the strange effect his nearness had on me. “Then why did you put your address on the damn card?”
“It’s not my— Ugh.” He broke off on a strangled groan. “I’m sorry I gave it to you in the first place. This is not good. Why couldn’t you keep your distance?”
“What the hell… Some nice guy you are.” Instead of taking the hint, I walked closer. Prepared to bust out my secret weapon: the finger point. “You said you would take care of the damage to my car. The damage you caused by poofing out of God-knows-where and bending my bumper. Lo and behold, one week later and countless calls and messages left unanswered after your check bounced, I’m left with one choice. Tracking you down.”
“I thought the check would go through. I’m sorry,” he told me through clenched teeth. His hands made miniscule shooing gestures.
“Well, it didn’t, and you never answered your phone. If you didn’t want me to come find you then you shouldn’t have given me the info in the first place. Honestly, what kind of hustler are you?” My hands went to my hips. I was on a roll. “And don’t try to tell me you aren’t a hustler, because I know a hustler when I see one. What, you think you can pull one over on me because I look like a sweet person? You talk to me like I’m a silly little girl!” And there went the rehearsed scowl, loosed from its cage. “I’m not the innocent you think I am, mister, and if you insist on playing these games then you’ll see I’m willing to fight dirty.”
The shooing motions became frantic. “Mariella, please. Just get out of here. Forget you came and when you walk out those doors, don’t come back. I’m begging you.”
I laughed and tried to keep my eyes sharp as sabers. “If you think I’ll accept this, you’re mistaken. You are going to pay for the bumper and any other problems from your poofing. I’m not leaving here without cash.” I swallowed. “Period.”
“What’s this I hear about an accident?”
The voice was siren-sweet. A woman stepped out through an open paneled door to the left, her long sable-colored curls piled high on top of her head. Deep brown eyes met mine and rose-red lips curved down while shoulders covered by a conservative black suit jacket rose.
“Someone please explain what is going on here,” the woman continued.
Dax straightened, his eyes trained ahead and his face blank. Instantly sobered. “Mariella Revely, this is my employer, Jacqueline Rohn, the proprietor of Rohn Antiques.” He spoke with robotic perfection.
Jacqueline reached out a hand and I shook it, the softness of her skin at odds with the firmness of her grip. “You were in an accident, my dear?” she went on to ask.
Finally. Someone who understood. I nodded. “Yes. Dax…appeared…” I took a deep breath. “Dax stepped behind my car while I was backing up. I swerved to avoid him and ran over a shopping cart.” The lie slipped out with ease. “We came to an agreement at the scene afterward, but when I tried to cash the check he wrote me, it bounced.”
“Let’s go somewhere more private to discuss this. If you would allow me to escort you to my office.” Jacqueline swept her arm out toward the paneled door.
I inclined my head and marched past her, catching a whiff of unusual perfume.
From behind me, I caught her harried whisper to Dax. “What did you do now?”
A hint of a smile played on my lips. Good. He deserved to get in trouble with his boss. I walked down the hall, surprised and gladdened when it opened into a bright office with a view of the trees outside.
“I appreciate your taking the time to make this right,” I said, voice echoing in the large office. “I’m sure it seems odd, my bursting in here like this, but—”
Jacqueline settled herself behind the deck, crossing her legs. “No, not at all. I want to get to the bottom of the matter the same as you. I don’t appreciate my employees running wild. Especially when they jump out and scare someone into crashing her vehicle. What did you say you hit, again?”
I spared a glance at Dax as he moved into the room, standing just inside the doorway with his arms across his chest and his expression bitter. Like he’d rather be chewing his way through a light bulb than standing here listening to us talk. This wasn’t the same man from last week. Not by a long mile.
Forget him, I ordered myself. He’s the one in the wrong.
Not being familiar with how much Jacqueline knew about his djinn-ness, I said, “I swerved and hit a shopping cart. Don’t worry. It won’t cost a lot to fix the bumper. I have the estimate for repairs in my pocket.”
“May I?”
A blush crept along my cheeks and I reached over to hand her the crumpled quote.
Her eyes, an unusual shade of blue bordering on violet, scanned the paper.
“That’s a really pretty necklace you’re wearing, Ms. Rohn.” My gaze landed on the antique chain nestled against her ivory skin. It led down to an unusual medallion made of varnished gold, inlaid with an inscription I couldn’t read. Similar to my demon script, but instead of clearing into legible letters, the words blurred together.
Jacqueline touched her perfectly manicured fingertips to the metal and gave me a small smile. “Thank you. Now, about your estimate. This is acceptable. I can write you a check for the damage immediately. I’d rather do that than deal with your insurance agency, if you don’t mind.”
“Actually, I would prefer cash. I came because I wanted to talk to Dax about the bounced check and I’d feel better if…” I mustered up the last of my courage. “If I left knowing this was taken care of for good.”
Nonplussed by my statement, Jacqueline kept her voice calm. “Completely understandable, Miss Revely. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation, honestly, because Mr. Parker knows to watch himself.” She flashed a glare in his direction and cleared her throat. There was genuine outrage in her expression.
For a moment, I wondered how close they were, employee and employer with a good twelve feet of distance between them. I pushed down a tiny kernel of jealousy. It wasn’t my business what Dax—a stranger and a liar—did on his own time. Especially not with a dark-haired beauty who seemed to have her life together. Unlike some people I knew.
“If you’ll give me one moment to get some cash from the safe? I’ll be right back.”
Jacqueline walked out of the room and I turned to look over my shoulder toward Dax. “See?” I said the moment she was out of earshot. “This is how you make things right.”
He scoffed. Turned away to purposely not look at me. “You’re something else.”
“Why? Because I insist on being reimbursed for the damage you caused? By the w
ay, does Ms. Rohn know what you are?”
“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. “If you realized what was good for you, you’d have left when I told you to.”
“I don’t take orders from cheats,” I took great pleasure in saying.
Jacqueline appeared seconds later with a wad of twenties in her hand. “This should be sufficient to cover your damages. From our fund for emergencies,” she told me. “I’m inclined to say this situation counts as one. I hope this evens the scales and now we go our separate ways. Yes?” She laid the stack of money on the desk in front of me.
I reached out gratefully to accept, a weight lifting off of my shoulders. “Absolutely. I appreciate it and…” I trailed off. Cleared my throat. Felt an all too familiar burning sensation starting at my wrist and sparking toward my elbow.
No, crap. Not now. Not now! I jerked my hand back as if I’d touched something hot.
“Miss Revely, are you sure you’re all right? You look pale.”
I nodded. “It’s nothing. I should probably get going, though. I’m sure I’ve overstayed my welcome.” A smile wobbled across my face even as the pain began to burn like fire.
“Oh, my dear! What happened to your arm? Is that from the accident?”
When I glanced down, I saw my sleeve had shifted to reveal the beginnings of red script pressing out of my skin. I slapped a hand down and hurried to drag my coat lower. “It’s a birthmark. I should get out of your way. Thank you again, thank you so much,” I said to her, and hurried past Dax and out the door.
This was not good. I bit the inside of my lip until it hurt to keep from crying out.
Of all the times for Cer to act out. I didn’t want to know what she said. It didn’t matter, anyway. Sometimes she made a special effort to put me in awkward situations for the sheer spite of it. I chalked this one up to something similar.
“Whatever it is you think you’re doing,” I muttered to her through gritted teeth, trying to grin at the clerk as I rushed through the showroom, “stop it. Stop it right now.”
I was in the car and starting to reverse when I realized I’d left the cash on the desk. Dammit! My fist slammed against the steering wheel. I needed that money. I had to go back inside. Go back inside and try to act like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Act like my arm wasn’t on fire.
