Destiny: A Fantasy Collection

by Rachelle Mills

  Making sure her head was firmly back in the game, Emma said, “I applied to the public defender’s office here, so obviously I have a bit of a bleeding heart,” she said wryly.

  “No luck there?”

  Emma scoffed. “They’re only accepting volunteer lawyers. Like that’ll pay my loans.”

  “But you’re committed, that’s good. Which brings me to my next question, and this is important.”

  Henry pushed away from the wall, and she did the same, so they could face each other. Emma braced herself and stood a little taller. Was he going to give her a hypothetical case to issue-spot? She’d been reviewing her old bar exam notes and crim law and crim pro supplements for weeks but still felt nervous. Surely by now he could see she was more than a Big Law drone.

  “Can you deal with annoying people?” he asked, his gaze as serious as a doctor delivering a grim diagnosis.

  Emma raised one eyebrow. “Really? Uh, I mean…absolutely. I worked at Keith and Heller. I was on law review. I graduated from law school.” She gestured to the courthouse at large. “Annoying people are everywhere.”

  “I don’t mean pretentious, petty, and competitive. I mean like ‘younger sibling cutting off all the heads of your dolls’ annoying. Like ‘magic tricks every single day’ annoying.”

  “Who in your life pulls stuff like that?” Emma bit her lip, trying to hold back a laugh.

  His face became stony. “My assistant.”

  She clapped her hands, unable to keep herself from laughing any longer. “Does he literally do magic tricks?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  He pursed his lips. “Have you dealt with people like that before or not?”

  “What, you want an example?” she scoffed.

  Henry folded his arms over his chest, his shoulders rigid. “Actually, yes.”

  Challenge accepted. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned her mental catalog of anecdotes. “Oh! This literally happened to me yesterday.” She raised a finger for emphasis.

  “I’m listening.” She loved how serious his gaze was, as if this story—not her intelligence or her experience—would be a deciding factor.

  “So. My sister is a veterinarian, and I often swing by the clinic to bring her coffee or lunch because I’m a good person,” she said, laying it on thick. “And there are these three vet techs who ask me for legal advice on anything and everything. Yesterday morning, one of them wanted to know if I had any cocaine.”

  His eyes widened in horror. “No.”

  “Yes. Apparently since some lawyers have issues with substance abuse, he thought I was holding.” She rolled her eyes. “Rather than get mad, though, I gave him a phone number and address. I told him to order twenty of the eighth combo and bring two hundred dollars in cash,” she said slyly.

  Henry tugged at his ear, clearly nonplussed. “You told him where to buy drugs?”

  Emma leveled him with a withering look. “Of course not. But I did tell my sister if one of her techs complains he spent two hundred bucks at a taco stand in South Tucson, she should probably have a long talk with him.”

  His eyes lit up and he laughed, openly and with joy. Confidence and amusement buzzed through her, knowing she’d done that to him. As his laughter died, he stared at her, assessing. She kept her facial expression neutral, but friendly, unsure how this was going to play out.

  To her dismay, his phone started ringing—and he answered. Shit. Had she totally screwed this up?

  After listening a moment, he winced. “Can we keep walking and talking to the elevators?” he whispered to her before grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

  He slid her resume into an outside pocket, dimming her hopes. So close. Grabbing her tote, she felt like a fool as they walked in silence.

  “I’m on it, Rick. Give me fifteen minutes.” He paused. “What’s tomorrow morning look like? Good, block it off.” Another pause. “Wait—that’s this afternoon?” Pause. “You want to do what?”

  Henry let out a long breath through his nose. “No, you may not put my tie through the paper shredder.”

  At those words, she forgot her frustration and bit her lip to keep from laughing. He hadn’t been kidding about his assistant. Henry rolled his eyes and hit the elevator call button. The doors soon opened, and they got on.

  “Rick—no. I’ll be back soon. You can keep talking to yourself, but I’m on an elevator…Oh no, oh no, I can’t hear you, I’m losing you, okay, bye.” Henry shook his head and hung up the phone. Shoving it into his pocket, he said, “Sorry. Apparently I’m late for a client meeting.”

  “You’re not kidding about needing help.”

  He gave her a dark look. “I’m really not.”

  Emma’s mind raced for an excuse so she could stall him a wee bit longer.

  Before she could open her mouth, though, he said, “I want you to come to my office tomorrow.”

  The elevator doors opened with a cheerful ping.

  “You do?” She cleared her throat. “I mean, of course you do.”

  As they made their way back through the lobby, he said, “You’ve got my card. Are you free at nine?”

  Emma stopped to fish through her bag for her phone. The answer was “fucking duh,” but hell if she was going to let him know that right off the bat. He knew she was desperate, but he didn’t know how desperate. She scrolled through her empty calendar, tapped random days, and set a reminder entitled “adljfk444dklja!@*#.” Deciding that was enough time to seem busy, she looked up at him with a smile.

  “Nine is perfect.”

  Before Emma could figure out the best way to say goodbye that was both confident and positive, a fair-skinned brunette with a chin-length bob rushed toward them—or more specifically, Henry. She looked to be in her fifties and wore a burgundy pantsuit. Despite her harried, irritated energy, she stood tall, her gaze sharp and assessing.

  Henry’s eyes widened. “I’ve been calling you.”

  The woman held up a hand in apology. “I know. I took care of it. She’ll be out within half an hour, but that other case…” She trailed off and frowned at Emma.

  Henry turned back to face her, eyes apologetic. “Sorry, I need to—”

  “You’re fine. We’ll talk tomorrow,” she assured him.

  Although she gave the woman a brief smile, Emma didn’t wait for introductions. They were dealing with their own emergency, and paying homage to pleasantries wouldn’t help anyone.

  “It was nice meeting you, Emma.” He smiled, but his eyes darkened. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about my assistant, though.”

  Emma tried and failed to ignore the shiver of anticipation running through her as she walked away. It had nothing to do with the promise of magic tricks.

  Chapter Three

  Sunlight oh-so-delightfully seared his already tender skin as Henry shut the car door. Lifting his briefcase above his head in a vain attempt to block the light, he hustled across the sidewalk to get inside. The day he could stop nearly burning to death just to get to court couldn’t come fast enough. Normally, his setup worked flawlessly. Because of Arizona’s air conditioning culture, mortals never batted an eye at the idea of a lawyer staying inside all the time. Back when he still focused on paper and not people, the cover had served his purposes just fine. With any luck, Emma would be the answer to his prayers.

  He slammed the front door shut behind him. Leaned against it with all his weight. Closed his eyes. Panted.

  The sound of the paper shredder shrieked in his ears. It was destroying something but seemed to be struggling. There was gurgling and chug-chugging…until it stopped entirely.

  Henry’s eyes flew open, and he darted toward Rick’s desk. His assistant was crouched over the machine, pressing various buttons, ignorant to Henry’s presence.

  Narrowing his eyes, Henry said, “You took the tie.”

  Rick spun around and flew to his feet in an attempt to block Henry’s view. “How dare you,” Rick said in the
scandalized tone of the guilty. “I would never.”

  “You’re buying me a new one,” Henry said before walking down the hall into the kitchen.

  “It wasn’t even a nice tie,” Rick complained, trailing after him. “No one’s worn paisley earnestly since the seventies.”

  Which was the reason why Henry had changed out of it at the last minute that morning, but he would never admit it. “Not the point,” he snapped. “You’re getting me a new one.”

  Yanking open the fridge, he pulled out a pouch of blood the supernat blood CSA had labeled as B+. Had to love his local community-supported phlebotomy.

  “It was a courtesy. Why would I do you the dishonor of buying you more paisley?”

  Pulling a glass out of one of the cupboards, Henry pursed his lips. “If you broke the shredder, you’re paying for that too.”

  Henry poured the blood into the glass with shaky hands. Damn, he was dehydrated. He wished more of the Tucson supernat community could hold their shit together. The longer his supernat clients stayed in the system, the greater the chance their true identities would be revealed to the human world. While Tucson was pretty liberal, Arizona didn’t require conceal-carry permits, so plenty of humans would likely want to solve the supernat problem zombie-apocalypse style by shooting first and asking questions later. Then they would all be screwed. It was in everyone’s best interest for Henry to dig them out of trouble, but this really wasn’t his wheelhouse.

  On the upside, if all went well with Emma tomorrow morning, he wouldn’t need to fight the sunshine to get to court anymore. As he took fervent gulps of blood, some of the perpetual tension in his shoulders eased at the thought of her. Emma was young, hungry, and most importantly, she could flounce down to court without worrying about bursting into flames. He had a feeling she looked good while she flounced. He’d enjoyed the determined spark in her eyes when she shoved her resume in front of him—and the warmth of her palm when she shook his hand.

  He frowned and set down his glass on the counter, a film of blood coating the inside. Not that he had any business noticing such details about her person. There was the small matter of getting her to agree to represent supernat cases, but if she didn’t react well to the revelation of the existence of monsters that go bump in the night, then…well, he would have to wipe her memory of him and try something else. He would be loath to erase himself from her life, though.

  With a shake of his head, Henry rinsed out the glass and left it in the sink. He would figure something out. One step at a time. He leaned back against the counter, most of the pain having finally left his hands, face, and neck. A pleasant tingle raced across his tender skin as cells repaired themselves. Rick pulled a green bottle of aloe gel from a cupboard and slapped it into Henry’s waiting palm.

  Apparently deeming it safe to broach conversation, Rick looked at him with a concerned knit of his brows. “Better?”

  In response, Henry let out a relaxed sigh and rubbed the lotion on his face, enjoying the feel of the cool albeit gloopy aloe.

  “Good!” Rick chirped. “Now I can chastise you for being ungrateful.”

  Henry groaned. “What now?”

  “I freed up your morning, so you’re welcome.”

  Panic seized him as he remembered the reason he was even here. Checking his watch, he winced and darted out of the kitchen. He was beyond late for his nine-thirty appointment. Mr. Bunting was the living definition of a curmudgeon. He was in Henry’s office at least once a month demanding his will be revised based on his grandchildren’s latest infractions. Henry jogged into his office and frowned when he realized it was empty. Rick followed behind.

  “Where…?”

  His assistant contemplated the ceiling with angel eyes. “I may have told him about a special Albertson’s is having on steaks and paper towels.”

  Henry tilted his head. “You know, I honestly don’t blame him. Paper towels are unreasonably priced.”

  “That’s what you have to say?” Rick demanded. “I worked miracles with that man. You don’t have to deal with him until this afternoon.”

  Henry dropped into his swivel chair and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” Before Rick could sling back an indignant retort, he added, “I need you to get a desk for the spare file room tomorrow morning.”

  Rick opened then promptly shut his mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor for a moment. “Because…?”

  “We need to turn it into an office.” Henry leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on his desk. “Looks like I can do some things on my own.”

  “How’s that, exactly?” Rick asked, head tilted in confusion.

  “I met a woman in court, and we talked for a while. Assuming things go well when I meet with her tomorrow morning, I’ll be hiring her as an associate.” As if sensing his good humor, his cat Ingrid trotted into the room and leapt onto Henry’s desk.

  “How did you meet a woman?” Rick squawked.

  Ignoring the dig, Henry said, “I needed help with Wendell in court, so she was nice enough to lend a hand. Her name is Emma, and she’s a lawyer looking for work. She’s young, intelligent, not easily intimidated, and nice to look at.”

  His assistant sputtered. “Pardon? Since when do you give women’s looks a second thought?”

  Henry avoided Rick’s gaze and instead patted his legs until Ingrid curled up in his lap with a yawn. “All I said was that she was attractive. Her brain and lack of sun allergy are far more useful to me.”

  “Haven’t you been a monk for the last half a decade?”

  Ignoring the flush creeping up his neck, he scratched his cat behind the ears. “Five years isn’t so long.”

  “A vampire without a solid concept of time—shocking. Now you’re casually commenting on a woman’s looks like some sort of normal person,” Rick said, utterly disgruntled.

  “I—”

  Eyes narrowed, Rick pointed an accusatory finger at Henry. “Who the hell are you and where is Henry? I’ll pay the ransom.” The melodrama in his assistant’s voice practically sparked through the room.

  He leveled his assistant with a sour look. “Rick, I’m intellectual, not impotent,” he said, ignoring the fact that Rick was completely right. But Emma’s warm brown eyes were irrelevant. Once he hired her, he would have one less thing to worry about.

  Rick whistled low. “This is a weird conversation topic, and I’m not sure I like it.”

  “She seemed to like the idea of you being a magician,” Henry added to distract him.

  Rick’s eyes widened in delight. “She’s hired! I should bring a few extra decks of cards tomorrow…” He trailed off, holding his chin in his hand. Rick had decided to withdraw from law school a couple of weeks ago to “pursue magic”, whatever that meant, so Henry was officially stuck with the magician and his sleights of hand. He didn’t know whether he should be thankful or horrified.

  Henry snapped his fingers at Rick in an effort to get his attention. “Don’t forget the desk. The spare file room has plenty of space but no desk.”

  “She might enjoy knife tricks…or maybe something with knots?” he muttered.

  He was clearly in his own world and not leaving anytime soon. It was usually best to leave him there.

  Henry sighed. “The desk, Rick. Get the poor woman a desk.”

  ***

  The turquoise door swung open in response to Emma’s frantic knock, revealing her sister scowling at her.

  “You know I don’t do well with cryptic texts. What the hell is going on?” Despite her irritation, Daphne accepted a hug.

  “Sorry, I wanted to save it until I knew we could celebrate right after I told you.” Emma handed her a bottle of golden tequila as a peace offering.

  Daphne let out a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose this will make up for it.”

  “Did you just get home from work?” Emma asked, heading toward the kitchen.

  Daphne was still in her lab coat, her black hair and smoky makeup standing in s
tark contrast to her otherwise prim outfit. Her sister was a veterinarian with the aesthetic of a bartender in a dive bar. The edges of her full-sleeve tattoo peeked out from beneath the white coat’s cuff. Emma loved hearing stories of wary pet owners shooting Daphne suspicious frowns before their dogs and cats went limp with loving trust in her sister’s arms.

  “Yes, but you’re still withholding information.” Daphne followed her into the kitchen.

  Unable to hold back any longer, Emma blurted, “I got a job!”

  Daphne shrieked. “Are you serious?”

  “No…I mean, kind of? I don’t know yet.”

  Her sister set the tequila on the counter with an annoyed thunk. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “It happened so fast. He didn’t offer me a job outright, but we’re supposed to talk about the position more tomorrow, and we got along really well, and I saved his ass in court by helping a client who was super appreciative, so really, how could he not hire me?” Emma took a breath to calm herself down. “I know I shouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch, but this is the best lead I’ve gotten since I moved back here. I figured that at least merited a margarita.”

  Her sister gave her a withering look but pulled out two glasses and a box of kosher salt anyway. Once armed with drinks, they sprawled out in splendor on Daphne’s couch.

  “I’m so happy for you, Em. I knew you’d find something.” Daphne gave her a fond smile but promptly crushed the sweet moment by taking a long, loud slurp of her margarita.

  Emma laughed. “Thanks. I hope it works out. My savings account is getting mad at me.”

  “You should’ve moved in with me like I told you to.”

  She fixed her sister with a side-eye as she took her own long slurp of her drink. “Fairly sure we would’ve murdered each other by now.”

  “Minor detail.” Daphne propped her feet up on the glass coffee table in front of them and waved her off. “So who is this guy? What’s his deal?”

  Careful not to jostle her drink, Emma tugged her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled up the sparse page she’d visited and revisited all afternoon and passed her phone to Daphne.