by R. M. Walker
Chapter Seven
The next day, Acalon asks to have a meeting with my elite guard. I have no idea what it’s about, or why he would bring them in, but we all meet in the conference room. The air is somber after yesterday. We lost a lot of good women and men. Some of my best fighters where either hurt or killed, they will be truly missed.
The key to the cages was in the same spot I trapped Michael, he must have dropped it when he fled. Most of the witches were unharmed, two of them suffered through the change, and the one feral witch/wolf was put down. There was no hope of saving her. There was no humanity remaining in her mind and she would have been a danger to others.
All the wolves that were fighting were killed during the battle. We couldn’t afford to leave survivors. It might be cruel, but my coven comes first. No one will hurt my witches again, and anyone who is stupid enough to work for the King deserves to die.
“I’ve called you all here because I have news from the Underworld Council. They have decided the fate of our team, and since it affects you all, I figured we’d tell you all at once,” he says, smiling at me. I sense something big is coming. “As you know, being a Warrior of the Underworld is a lifelong job. It is something that you can only leave by death. A sworn binding oath is taken, and you declare forever to the Underworld and your comrades. Well, today they have given us an option, one I, Tenoch, and Zolin will gladly take. They have offered to release us from our vows if that is what we should choose. Finding a bonded mate is so rare, that they are willing to undo our oath.”
I stare at him in amazement. I didn’t think it was possible to have them all to myself. I thought I would have to share them for the rest of eternity. “What did you decide?” I whisper. I’m almost afraid of hearing the answer.
“We haven’t. They also gave us another choice. Since Michael has become their number one enemy, now that they know his true intentions, they want you on the team, Izel. They want you to join the Warriors, as the first female. You would become part of our team, and we would fight all the injustices of Faerie until the time comes that we find the Changer. We would then help her overthrow Michael, or we kill her if she sides with him. It’s your choice,” he says, with a smile on his lips. He looks very smug right now, like he knows my answer.
My heart jumps a bit in excitement. Being a Warrior is the ultimate dream job. I could help protect so many races in Faerie and do so much good. But then I look to my guards. This is my home. The place I have known for my whole life. I’m the Protector of this town. The witch they count on to keep them safe, how can I leave?
“I know what’s going through that head of yours, and I am going to stop you right there,” Coyotl says. He walks up to me and places his hands on my shoulders. The guys tense up, but no one makes a move. “You’re a strong fierce Protector. You have given your all to this town and coven for decades. You need to go with your mates and live the life you were created for. We will still be here for you, always, but realize your potential, Izzy. Get that bastard Michael and make him pay for all he has done here. For all the lives he has taken.”
I close my eyes and let his words sink in. My gut is telling me he’s right. I was born for a higher purpose. I need to show Faerie there is a better way, that we should not be in a state of worry that this will happen again. I pat Coyotl on the biceps and walk over to Acalon. Grabbing him in a fierce kiss, putting all my emotions and feelings into it.
Breaking away, I look up at him and stare into his amazing eyes. “Yes, I will become a Warrior and join your pack,” I say, with the widest smile I can muster. He lifts me in the air and spins me around in happiness. Tenoch and Zolin jump on us, and before I can blink, we are all down on the ground in one huge pile of mates. I feel the rest of the guard leave, and we all just sit in silence, wondering what the rest of this life will bring us.
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Masked Illusions
Candice Wright
Masked Illusions
Tyler Badd is an asshole. Unfortunately, he’s also my boss, and in order to pay my bills and eat, I need to keep this job. Every day I swear I'm going to quit, even though I never do. Today, for example, I'm not even inside yet and I already want to leave. I stare up at the huge, glass building before me and repeat over and over to myself, “You’ve got this.” I push through the glass revolving doors and head over to the lifts at the opposite side of the room. My sensible black heels make a staccato noise as I move across the marble tile, providing a strange sort of beat to accompany the death march that’s running through my mind. Spotting Christy at the reception desk, I quicken my step and avoid making eye contact with her. Christy is the polar opposite of me. She’s tall and willowy with long, straight honey blonde hair, big blue eyes, and full pink pouty lips—although I suspect her lips might not be au naturel. I, on the other hand, am small and curvy, with big boobs and a butt that shows off just how much I like doughnuts. My hair is an untameable riot of jet-black curls which, combined with my pale skin, almost makes me look like a vampire. My eyes are an unremarkable muddy brown just like that of a billion other people around the world. In fact, there isn’t really anything particularly remarkable about me at all. I step into the lift and hit the button for the top floor as my pulse begins to race the closer I get to my desk. My reflection shines back at me from the mirrored panel on the wall, and I take a second to discreetly check myself out whilst the other occupants have their faces focused on their phones.
My hair is scraped back into a tight ponytail that is bound to give me a headache by tonight but would drive me nuts otherwise if I left it down. My navy-blue suit jacket and skirt combo is ill fitted on my frame, but as a hand me down from my mother, I know that beggars can’t afford to be choosers on a shoestring budget. My favourite cream blouse, which I started out in this morning, is currently lying at the bottom of my wash basket with a coffee stain down the front, so now I’m in a pale blue one that is a little too snug around my bust, making me adjust myself every couple of minutes.
The lift doors open and everyone leaves, apart from me. Five more floors to go. I look at the woman in the mirror and sigh. I’m a twenty-four year old hermit who looks like a little girl playing dress up. This is why I’m invisible to the rest of the world. People’s eyes skim past me without even realising I’m there. And isn’t that the kicker? Because that asshole of a boss of mine, well, he’s also the guy I am completely and irrevocably in love with, and he doesn’t even know I exist.
The doors open and I take a deep breath before walking out onto the plush, grey carpet. My footsteps are silent for a change as I make my way to my desk just outside of the head secretary’s office. Technically I answer to her—Mrs Melbrooke—and she is Mr Badd’s PA, but it’s impossible for her to run around and complete all of the ridiculous errands he wants completed on a day-to-day basis, so the company hired me to assist her. That makes me the resident dog’s body that basically runs here, there, and everywhere, doing whatever jobs nobody else can be bothered to do for themselves. Mr Badd is always polite and courteous to Mrs. Melbro
oke, but when addressing me, I receive little more than a barked-out order, which he delivers without looking in my direction.
I place my bag on the back of my chair and head over to the main office looking for Mrs. M, but the office is empty, which is unusual for this time of morning. I’m just about to turn and walk back out when the phone rings. I hurry around the desk and answer.
“Hello, Parker, Badd, and Peterson’s, how may I help you?”
“It’s an internal line, for Christ’s sake. Check the switch. Red for an external call, blue for internal.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment at my little slip, but in my defence, answering phones isn’t something I usually do. Mr. Badd wouldn’t know that though, and I doubt he would care if he did.
“My mistake, sir. How may I help you?”
“Mrs. Melbrooke is off sick today so you, Jodie, are going to be doing her job today. I realise it’s more than you are used to, but if you put your mind to it, I’m sure you can manage until she is back.”
Why does he have to be so goddamn patronising?
“I’m sure I can, sir, and it’s Josie, not Jodie,” I mumble.
“Right. Your duties for today are on the computer, I assume you have access?”
“Yes, sir.” It’s a requirement for this very possibility.
“Good. In addition to those, I need flowers purchased, roses, not red, sent to Trisha Donovan with a note saying thanks. Oh, and I need a costume for the charity ball tonight. Mrs. Melbrooke rented one, but there seems to have been some kind of issue with it. She has left the name and address of the place you need to go to collect another one. Pick something appropriate. I don’t want to be walking around all night like a godforsaken Zombie. Got that?” I finish writing it down on the pad in front of me, nodding, before I remember he can’t see me.
“Yes, sir. Will that be all?”
“I need my coffee and you will need to get a costume for yourself too, just charge it to the company card.”
“I’m sorry? I didn’t know I was supposed to go tonight, sir, I have plans this evening. You see it’s—” He cuts me off rudely. Not interested at all in what I have to say.
“It’s not a request. I don’t care what plans you have, cancel them. Without Mrs. Melbrooke you need to be there Jodie, understand?” He hangs up before I can answer.
“It’s Josie,” I mutter under my breath, as tears of frustration spring into my eyes. I grab my bag and the company credit card, before heading down to the coffee shop across the street for the asshole’s drink. I dial my mother while I wait in the queue.
“Hi baby, happy birthday!” she shouts, making me pull my phone away from my ear and wince.
“I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’m making all your favourites, and your sister is coming over with the twins. It feels like it has been ages since we have all been together.” I swallow down the lump in my throat and move forward as the queue gets shorter.
“I’m so sorry, Mom, but I’m not going to be able to make it.”
“What? Oh no, Josie, please say you are joking?”
“I’m disappointed too, Mom, but I have to work tonight and there is no getting out of it. I miss you guys so much. I promise I’ll drive down as soon as I can. I love you. Give my love to Dad and tell everyone I’m sorry.” I hang up and swipe a stray tear from my cheek, feeling upset and frustrated. I step up to the counter, order two coffees, and wait over at the side for them.
Happy twenty-fourth birthday to me. I left my hometown eighteen months ago, needing to spread my wings and escape small town living. But I guess the jokes on me. I was ecstatic when I landed a job at London’s premier advertising agency. I was finally going to put my degree to use. Turns out my job was little more than a glorified coffee delivery girl. I thank the woman behind the counter who hands over my drinks and hurry back across the street up to the wanker who will no doubt be tapping his expensive Italian loafers with impatience. I drop my coffee and bag off at my desk and hurry to Mr. Badd’s office, knocking quietly before entering.
“Here’s your coffee Mr—” I look up and find Mr. Badd topless. He freezes in the act of pulling a clean shirt from a hanger and watches me as I just gape at him, open-mouthed. That is a lot of hard, compact, lickable muscle on display. Is that a six pack? No, my mistake, that’s definitely an eight pack. He has a little trail of hair leading down from his belly button, dipping down into the waistband of his trousers.
“Have you quite finished, Jodie?” His stern voice snaps me out of my ogling, making my cheeks flush. I dip my head to hide my face and bite my lip. I ignore his hulking presence as I make my way over to his massive, mahogany desk on shaky legs and place the coffee down lightly.
“I’ll just go and make my way through the list. Sorry for interrupting.”
“I will be in and out of my office all day today, so take messages and redirect important calls to my mobile. Have my costume couriered to my place by six thirty. The party starts at eight, the address is on file, don’t be late.” I take in his full, soft looking lips and his wavy, dark chocolate brown hair that is a touch too messy for the classy dark grey business suit he’s wearing today, yet somehow, he pulls it off beautifully. His usually clean-shaven face is sporting day-old stubble, and his beautiful amber coloured eyes bore into me like those of a cat.
Wait… shit. He’s caught me staring again.
“I’m sorry, is there an issue that’s preventing you from leaving?”
“No, no, sorry.” I hurry to the door, pull it open, and nearly collide with a gorgeous redheaded woman.
“I’m so sorry, excuse me,” I murmur, waiting for the verbal backlash to start.
“Please, it was my fault. I was running late and just wanted to drop something off with Tyler. He left it at my place last night.” My mind instantly starts to conjure up just what he might have been doing at the beautiful lady’s house, and I feel my heart splinter. Guys who look like him don’t go for girls like me. Hell, they don’t even see girls like me.
“I’m Clara.” She holds out her manicured hand for me to shake.
“Josie.”
“Well, Josie, I will just head in and get out of your way.”
“He is just changing his shirt,” I tell her quietly. She laughs and it sounds like tinkling bells. I really want to hate her, but she seems nice which, somehow, makes it worse.
“That’s okay. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Have a good day.”
She pushes through the door, closing it behind me. I wait for a beat, wondering if he will kick her out, but after a few minutes it becomes apparent that she’s going to stay awhile.
I sip my lukewarm latte and work my way through the task list for today, until all I’m left with is a series of errands. I look up when the door to his office opens and the man himself walks out with the redhead’s arm linked through his. He says something quietly to her, making her burst out laughing. I have to look away as I feel tears sting my eyes. They sure do make a beautiful couple. I don’t even know why I’m upset. He’s a pompous dick most of the time. I don’t even know why I developed this fascination with him to begin with. I guess it’s true what they say, the heart wants what the heart wants.
“It was nice to meet you, Josie,” Clara calls out. I lift my head and wave. Ignoring the frown on my boss’s face. I look down and pretend I’m typing as they walk away arm in arm, but I hear him muttering to her.
“I thought her name was Jodie?”
See? Total asshole. I gather my stuff and head out to my car, dropping off his lordship’s dry cleaning before driving over to pick up the costumes.
* * *
Standing outside the old building in front of me, I check the address on the slip of paper in my hand again to confirm that I’m definitely in the right place. This is not what I expected at all. Down in the seedier side of London, with a brick front and a grey steel shutter pulled down over the window, I’m not even sure that this place is open. The sign reads Gunther’s, b
ut since there is no name on the paper with the address, it’s not much help. I turn the handle, expecting to find it locked, but am happily surprised when the door swings open, making the little bell above jangle. Inside, the store is warmly lit and displayed with an array of costumes that look like they were made for a movie set. I trail my fingers over a maroon ball gown that looks like something the Queen would wear, and make my way to the counter. No one else appears to be around, so I ring the little bell on the desk and wait.
“One moment,” a high-pitched voice calls from the back, before I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. A beaded curtain separating the store from the back room is pulled aside, revealing a woman who looks so old she should have probably been entombed. I swear I’ve seen mummies at the Natural History Museum that look younger than her. Her skin is so thin I can almost see beneath it, and filled with so many wrinkles it seems as if it doesn’t fit her anymore. Her hair is a shock of white, and as she walks around the counter to greet me, I see it reaches down past her butt.
“Erm… Hi, I am here to collect a costume for a Mr. Badd and to pick one for myself.”
“Oh, yes. Both costumes have been reserved.”
“Both? I’m sorry, I didn’t even know I was going to need one until a few hours ago,” I tell her, worried she might have me confused with someone else.
“Yes, both.” She walks over to the counter and reaches behind it for a book. Flicking through the pages, she traces her finger over the paper until she finds what she’s looking for.
“See, here. Two costumes. Chosen and paid for by a Mallory Melbrooke, courtesy of Parker, Badd, and Peterson’s.” I shrug my shoulders. At least I don’t have to worry about choosing the right one anymore.
