Hope's Wish

by Lexxie Couper

  Quinn’s mind whirred like a dervish when she gave Ingrid a dazed look. “Right, and Katie was just over forty when she was turned—so MILF jokes abound.”

  “You forgot to tack on the ‘ha-ha very funny’.”

  “Slacker be mine name.”

  Ingrid peered down at her, pushing Quinn’s tangled hair from her forehead. “Now repeat after me. Nina is a vampire, Marty is a werewolf, and Wanda is what we teasingly call a halfsie. Half werewolf, half vampire—all of them accidentally turned into supernatural beings by some nutbag event. And I work for them as their receptionist at a place called OOPS. Out In The Open Paranormal Support. They assist paranormal people in crisis, and that’s why I know something paranormal has happened to you, and why I tweeted Nina. Because she’s an expert on this and she’s the only one of the three who can fly. Wanda’s tried, but her attempts have had some pretty rough results.”

  “Right. The crash landing into the hedge maze at Nina’s castle.”

  Ingrid grinned her approval. “Now you’re getting it!”

  Quinn vehemently shook her head. “Oh, no, no, no. Don’t mistake this for getting anything. I’m just repeating what you told me. I still haven’t wrapped my head around cougar veterinarian. So forget hedge mazes and castles and zombies. Oh my God. Nina has a vegetarian zombie…”

  Ingrid bobbed her colorful head. “Named Carl. He’s a great dude. Needy when it comes to a roll of duct-tape, but you’ll love him.”

  Slowly, as the wheels in her head began to grind back into gear, some things were beginning to make sense—a connection of dots, if you will. Like how pale Nina was. “And Nina was already a vampire when I met her?”

  “She’s been one for seven years now.”

  “Is that what made her so crusty?”

  Ingrid wrinkled her nose. “No. I hear she was always a little cranky, and FYI, I was petrified of her at first, too. I know she comes off as scary with all her swearing and threatening, but she’s a total mush.”

  Quinn massaged the back of her neck. Right. Mushy-mushy. Hah.

  She rose, handing Ingrid her backpack. “I’m sure she’s very warm and supportive.”

  Ingrid nodded, pursing her lips. “I’m hearing sarcasm.”

  “You’re not hearing things.”

  Ingrid made a face, tucking her thumbs into her backpack straps. “Look, she’s good to me, Quinn. Nina, Marty, and Wanda pay me ridiculously well, way over the going rate for a receptionist to answer the phones at OOPS. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have enough money to buy a pencil, let alone pay for my tuition. Plus, it was Nina who suggested you not go by yourself to Greece. She said you looked like you needed a vacation—but you shouldn’t go it alone.”

  Now Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Now, now. That wasn’t exactly what Nina said.”

  Ingrid threw up her arms in frustration, her sigh grating. “Fine. She said the last thing you should be doing is hitting Greece alone because the idiot, romantic, rose-colored-glasses wearer that you are, you’d probably end up shackled to some olive farmer as your rebound. Okay? Happy? Despite her forward nature—insensitive, cranky, sometimes crass…okay, always crass—even she could tell you looked like hell, and Nina never notices anything about anyone unless it’s about her.”

  Quinn clucked her tongue with admonishment. “Don’t forget the label suicidal. She said I looked suicidal.” And maybe she had for the first week or so after Igor had told her he wasn’t going to Greece with her at all, but leaving her for Shawna.

  Red, swollen eyes and the muttered wish to have a bus run you over didn’t deserve a label as harsh as suicidal.

  Everyone deserved a good cry when their bubble of romance was burst by the pin of infidelity. She’d gotten over the sobbing, gulping, four-bags-of-pork-rinds-in-a-row part of it, and she’d thought she was moving on to something much less pathetic when she’d stepped onto the plane to Greece.

  “You still look confused.”

  “It’s a lot to absorb.” Her head was spinning from the attempt to absorb.

  Ingrid suddenly stuck a finger in the air. “Oh! I have the perfect way for you to relate to this. You know all those Molly Harper books you read about werewolves and vampires and love-sweet-love? It’s kind of like that only real.”

  Right. This was exactly like that. Quinn frowned. “So back to Katie. Repeat the part about why Nina and company had to save her?”

  “Remember the bit where I told you bad people wanted to kill Katie and her husband after they found out she was turned into a cougar?”

  Panic seized Quinn from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She gripped Ingrid’s arm. “Are you saying someone’s going to want to kill me because I bit an apple that tastes like donkey’s ass?”

  “How do you know what donkey’s ass tastes like?”

  “I don’t. I’m just assuming that ass, in particular a donkey’s ass, leaves an aftertaste.”

  Ingrid kept her voice low, turning her body away from the Greek goodness of Khristos. “I’m not saying anyone wants to kill you. Not yet. I just know from experience, after knowing Nina, Marty, and Wanda for a few years now and hearing all of their client stories, that there’s always some bad dude who wants whatever it is the client stumbled upon when they have the paranormal accidents. The last case they had, it was dragon scales. Those scales turned not one, but two people into dragons, and the scales belonged to very bad people, and they didn’t like that someone accidentally swallowed them. And then there was baby dragon—”

  Quinn’s eyes flew open wide in horror, clapping a hand over her mouth. Okay, she’d been willing to suspend disbelief for the most part, but what was next? Were-bears? “Stop it! Dragons? Now you’ve gone too far, Ingrid. Dragons don’t exist. I was willing to suspend my disbelief with Nina and gang, but a baby dragon is too—”

  Ingrid squatted in front of her and shoved her phone in Quinn’s face. “Don’t make me show you, Quinn! I told you I have pictures and everything.”

  She blanched, throwing her hand over her eyes. “No! No physical proof. Not yet. Please.”

  Ingrid, peeled back Quinn’s fingers from her face, an eyebrow raised. “How could you doubt what I say is true after what’s happened to you?”

  Quinn sucked in a breath, yanking her hair over her shoulder and re-braiding it. Okay, so fair enough. Nina really could lift a car, and fly, and Marty was a pretty, petite blonde with impeccable fashion sense one minute, a hairy, snarling, jagged-toothed animal on all fours the next. And Wanda? Well, she was a combo pack of both vampire and werewolf.

  Composed once more, she let her hand rest on Ingrid’s arm, squeezing it. “So just because something’s happened to me, you think someone bad is going to want what I have? How many bad guys want bigger boobs, Ingrid?” Ridiculous.

  But Ingrid shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. No, no. That’s not the entire story. I can guarantee you that much. He said you have the power of Aphrodite. That’s huge! And I’ve seen things because of Nina, Quinn Morris. I’ve seen some scary things and I don’t believe this Khristos is telling us the whole truth about that stupid apple. There’s more. I just don’t know what. Which is why we need Nina. She’ll beat it out of him if need be.”

  Perfect. That was exactly what she needed to top this trip off. Nina. But she kept her lips pressed together.

  Or at least she really tried to. “Do you think it’s wise to consult—”

  Ingrid threw up a finger under Quinn’s nose. “Do not. Do not say a single word. Nina’s the expert on this, and we’re going to listen to her advice. We’re in a foreign country, with a crazypants guy who says he’s a descendant of Aphrodite instead of doing what we said we were coming here to do. Flipping Igor the bird while you text him pictures of you slugging back ouzo belly shots off some slick Greek dude’s hard abs. So shut it.”

  She tried really hard to do as Ingrid asked, but honestly, could one call the most gorgeous man on earth crazypants when there was a Nina? “I think you’re be
ing incredibly unfair, Ingrid. Why is it so crazy to believe this man is the descendant of Aphrodite if Nina can be Dracula’s kin?”

  “She’s not Dracula’s kin. Now knock it off and let me handle this. Caution is the better part of valor. Don’t speak to him; don’t even look at him while I keep trying to get in touch with Nina. Understood?”

  “Okay. I’ll just be over here looking at my new taters while I sparkle. In the shade, where the sun isn’t eating a hole in the top of my head.” She pointed to the steps of the Parthenon where the sun had begun to move away.

  “Okay, but I have my eye on you, Quinn, and you, too, Made Out of Marble Man!”

  Khristos tipped an imaginary hat in Ingrid’s direction and smiled at Quinn when she sat down near the column farthest away from him.

  They sat silently for a moment, her absorbing and processing this madness; him, hands folded around his knees, staring off into the distance.

  Digging in her bag, she rooted around for a bottle of water. “Damn,” she mumbled.

  “Problem?”

  Quinn pushed herself back against the columns, trying to make herself as small as possible before she answered, a little freaked out now that Ingrid’s story was beginning to sink in. “No more water,” she croaked, her throat dry and sore.

  He nodded his head. “I can help.” Lifting an arm, he began to snap his fingers when she shouted.

  “No!”

  Out of the clear blue, a bottle of water appeared, with delicious drops of condensation gleaming in the burning sun as they slid down along the plastic length of it. He rose and offered it to her, his brown hand strong and wide. “Drink.”

  When she hesitated, he moved and sat down next to her.

  God, he smelled heavenly. Like the earth on a spring day and Tide. Yet, she cringed farther against the column and closed her eyes. “You just made a bottle of water appear with the snap of your fingers. I think you have to go away.”

  He scoffed, all sexy and rumbly-tumbly, as if she’d just accused him of trying to poison her. “Now, Quinn, what could I possibly do to you with a bottle of water?”

  Hello. Big, big boobies here.

  She popped her eyes open and looked at him with a scathing glance. “You, who claims to guard an apple that gave me boobs the size of fresh cantaloupes, and made a bottle of cold water appear out of thin air, are asking me what you could possibly do to me? In fact, I just asked Ingrid what’s next? Nicki Minaj’s ass?”

  His laughter rumbled deep and low, echoing throughout the Parthenon in a delicious vibration that shot straight up her spine. “I promise you the water won’t give you Nicki’s ass. Though, gun to head, if I were going to give you someone’s ass, I prefer J-Lo’s.”

  Her look must have been one of horror because he quickly added, “Kidding.” He unscrewed the top and handed it to her. “Drink.”

  Licking her dry lips, Quinn couldn’t resist. She took the bottle from him, giving him one last look of hesitation. “If I come out of this looking like one of those Real Housewives who use so much Botox they look like merely going to the ladies’ room is a surprise party, I’m going to put your apple in a damn food processor.”

  Khristos mocked a wince. “So many threats today from such tiny women. The female force is mighty in your circle, huh? Now drink before you dehydrate.”

  Putting the bottle to her lips, Quinn took a small sip, letting it sit on her tongue to decide whether it tasted funny before she could no longer resist and chugged it, finishing it off. Handing it back to him, she smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Another?”

  At first her eyes narrowed in skepticism, but then she gave the front of her shirt a subtle glance and threw caution to the wind. “Please.”

  Khristos snapped his fingers and yet another bottle appeared, as enticing as the first. He popped the top once again and smiled, easy and light. “So tell me about yourself, Quinn Morris. What are you doing here in Greece?”

  Licking my wounds? Plotting my ex-fiancé’s death? She looked off into the vast horizon of blue and white puffy clouds. “Vacation.”

  His dark eyebrow rose. “Really? How does this Igor factor into your vacation?”

  Shame flooded her cheeks crimson. “You heard?”

  “I did. The jerk.”

  Anger spiked along her spine, and she wasn’t sure if it was still over Igor breaking her heart or that Khristos had heard her humiliating story. “He’ll get what he deserves. Mark my words.”

  “Revenge can be very sweet.”

  Suddenly she was tired of mucking about. She didn’t want to talk about Igor or Shawna or her embarrassing confession. Not if those words Ingrid had bandied about just moments ago had any validity.

  If he was going to kill her for the apple thing, then she wanted a head start. The best way to get an answer was just to confront him. “Let’s stop pussyfooting around.”

  Khristos cocked his beautiful head. “Okay. No more pussyfooting.”

  “And I want honesty when I ask this very sensitive question.”

  He nodded, his thick hair falling over his eye, making him look even more rakish than he had at first glance. “You got it.”

  “Are you going to kill me for biting your apple?”

  “It was an accident, right?”

  “If you would have just let go of my hand…” She stopped justifying and shook her head. “Yes, it was an accident.”

  “Then this time I suppose I can let you live. But I don’t spare lives often. Remember that as we take this journey, Quinn Morris,” he said, but his amber-brown eyes were teasing.

  She smiled. For the first time in days, it wasn’t just for the sake of everyone around her. “Okay, good. So that’s settled. Now, I don’t want to waste any more time freaking out about this and panicking. I’ve heard when something paranormal like this happens, there’s a lot of that.”

  Straight from Ingrid’s mouth, she’d heard it. Crying, whining, mourning your old life were all symptoms of the change—symptoms that made Nina want to throat punch the OOPS clients.

  She did not want to be throat punched by Nina. She was a lover. Not a fighter. Okay, a former lover, but she’d still never be a fighter.

  Khristos raised an eyebrow again, a clearly skeptical one. “You’ve heard? What kind of human are you?”

  She shrugged her shoulders as her dilemma began to sink deeper and deeper into her brain—the ramifications of it all were beginning to wear her down. “The kind who likes to be prepared. So what’s next?”

  Ingrid interrupted any hope he had of answering when she made a beeline for Quinn, her eyes blazing and angry. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to him? You!” she yelped at Khristos. “Back off!”

  Khristos sighed and slid back over to his side of the steps and leaned back on his elbows “Apologies,” he said with a smirk.

  Ingrid’s phone dinged, making Quinn jump up and peer over her shoulder. While she kept one eye on Khristos, Ingrid held up her phone. “Finally! I’ve been trying to get a signal forever. So I gave up and tweeted Nina. Go figure Twitter works but I can’t dial internationally. Read.”

  OOPS: @ingridbelieves Did u fucking say she’s sparkling?

  Quinn nodded her head at the phone. Fucking yes, she did.

  Ingrid watched Khristos while she tweeted, Ingrid Lawson Ingridbelieves: @OOPS Yes! Something’s happened. Man—big man involved. Help now. Come pls!

  OOPS: @Ingridbelieves R u telling me I should leave my man and kid because the nitwit is glowing? Did u eat moron 4 breakfast?

  Ingridbelieves: @OOPS She also has cans the size of water balloons. Come pls!

  OOPS: @Ingridbelieves LOLLOLLOLLOL!

  Quinn frowned then stuck her tongue out at Nina’s tweet. “How are my big cans funny? This is not funny! He’s claiming I’m the Goddess of Love. After this past week, where I’ve decided love blows some hefty chunks, I don’t think I can hold up my end of the bargain. So tell Nina to stop mocking me and do her job, which is to help someone
in paranormal crisis.”

  She couldn’t even believe she’d just repeated those words. But help was help.

  Ingrid’s fingers flew over the keyboard on her phone. Ingridbelieves: @OOPS Come pls. He says Quinn’s Aphrodite!

  OOPS: @Ingridbelieves The Goddess of Love?

  Ingridbelieves: @OOPS Yes! Batshit, right?

  “Khristos? Is that my favorite Greek ever?”

  Quinn and Ingrid both whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice.

  Nina used the word “favorite” in a sentence—referencing another person? One of these things was not like the other.

  Khristos shaded his eyes and gazed into the far corner of the Parthenon. “Nina Statleon? Is that you?”

  Quinn’s burning eyes went wide. “You know her?”

  Nina’s form blurred momentarily as she moved from the far corner of the ruins to right in front of them in the blink of an eye. Her long dark hair poking out from beneath her hoodie, her usual dark sunglasses on her nose, sporting a white strip of zinc oxide for added sun protection.

  She eyeballed Quinn’s breasts and whistled. “He sure does, Boobs. Dude, how ya been?”

  “Get over here, you!” Khristos said with enthusiasm, opening his arms to Nina—to Nina—and she went right into them, as if hugging was her favorite pastime.

  He chuckled as he squeezed her hard and let her go, smiling down at her. “If it isn’t my favorite vampire! I’m really good, lady. Damn, when was the last time we saw each other?”

  Nina pushed her hoodie from her head with a wide grin, unzipping it to reveal a black T-shirt that read “I’m A Delicate Fucking Flower”.

  A grin. Nina was grinning. Not scowling. Oh, the world really had tipped on its axis.

  “Gods versus Vampires picnic of 2012. Remember that shit? Took Apollo out like he was GD wearin’ lace panties and a bra. Good times, my friend.”