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How to Snag a Shifter-The Book of Brooklyn Book One: A Young Adult Paranormal Romance Witch Series (The Book of Brooklyn Witch Series 1)

Page 9

by Karin De Havin


  He’s so right. My grandmother is an amazing cook, and she taught my mother everything she knows. But I think my mother’s use of spices is a bit more subtle than my grandmother’s. Her artful touch makes her food taste better. “You nailed it, Ainsley. Gram isn’t as good a cook, and she knows it.”

  He smiles pleased that I can compliment my mother. “Well, said, Brooklyn. Eshe is wonderful at everything she does.”

  Just like back at the restaurant in Brooklyn when we had dinner together, I get the distinct feeling Ainsley has a bit of a crush on my mother.

  A blush forms on her cheeks. “Are you ready for the big opening?”

  That is so like my mom to not accept a compliment, especially from a handsome man who happens to be a vampire. “Unfortunately, one of the paintings was damaged in the move so I’ve had to repair it. But otherwise, things are going swimmingly. I hope the people of Los Angeles will enjoy my work.”

  I stop stuffing my face and put down my fork. Time to get to the real reason Ainsley is here. “I know a group of girls that will be instant fans. I hope you don’t mind, I invited most of the coven.”

  He laughs. “Not at all. Eshe told me they might be coming. It would be a pleasure to meet them.”

  And now to move in for the kill. “I have a new friend I want to invite too. She’s special, I think you’ll like her.”

  Eshe nods. “Yes, she’s charming.”

  Now I need to really sell him on her. “Jennifer is quite the accomplished shifter. She can transform into inanimate objects.”

  He pushes back his plate. “Are you certain? I’ve never heard of anyone with that skill.”

  “Yes. I’m not making it up.” I nudge my mother. “Right, Mom? You saw her turn into that clock.”

  “It’s true.” Eshe points to the house-shaped clock across the room. “She transformed into the clock with ease. Jennifer made the seesaw go up and down and the hands move backwards. It was amazing to watch.”

  His brow furrows slightly not quite convinced. “How did you find her?”

  I scoot closer to his cushion. “Jen goes to my high school. I knew there was something special about her the second I met her.”

  “Have you brought the girl into the coven?”

  “No, not yet.” My mom stops eating her salad. “She is very ignorant of our world, so we are slowly educating her.”

  I laugh, knowing Jen has been Googling like crazy. “Well, maybe not so slowly. I told her about my werewolf ex-boyfriend and that my godfather is a vampire.”

  “You didn’t tell her I’m a vampire, did you?”

  Like I would give her a heads up about that. Better she figures it out for herself. “No. I just told her you were someone special she should meet.”

  He lets out a sigh. “Thank goodness.”

  I edge closer to him until I’m almost in his lap. “Jen is more than just a shifter, she’s pretty and smart, too.”

  Ainsley’s body language quickly changes. His shoulders tense up. “I’m not looking for a relationship at the moment.”

  I need to tread more carefully. “Wait until you meet her.” I give him a knowing smile. “You’re perfect for each other.”

  10

  Grand Opening

  My blood pressure rises at the thought of Jen and Ainsley meeting for the first time. It’s a particular adrenaline rush. One matchmakers must have felt long ago. I spot Jen standing in front of the gallery wearing a pair of faded skinny jeans and a cropped floral peasant top that shows just a hint of skin. It’s girl-next-door sexy. A smile spreads across my face when I see she’s wearing my mom’s high heel wedges that I loaned her. They give Jen the perfect bit of height and make her look totally pulled together.

  The pristine glass façade of the Braxton Gallery positively glows in the early evening light. I link arms with Jen, and we enter through the shiny stainless-steel doors like we are headed to a movie premier. The bright white walls of the gallery are dotted with paintings of fanciful worlds of Ainsley’s creation. An impressive lighting system hangs down from the steel rafters, illuminating each artwork perfectly. Against the stark white backdrop, Ainsley’s vibrant paintings practically leap off the walls.

  I check my reflection in the giant picture windows facing the street. My mini black leather dress and six-inch spiked heel booties are the perfect gallery look. Jen stands gawking at the paintings like she’s never seen a gallery showing before. The fact that Ainsley is an amazing and talented artist is on full display. His fantasy paintings teaming with fairies and wood nymphs appear so real they look like photographs.

  I tug on Jen’s hand when I spot the coven hanging out in front of the bar. “Tara and the girls are in the back. Let me introduce you.”

  Jen bites her lower lip. I have to remember she’s never met a coven of witches before. It has to be incredibly intimidating. I know even though I am a witch myself, when my mom introduced me to her New York coven for the first time they made me break out in a sweat and I was only five.

  Jen moves slowly toward the bar, tugging on her peasant top, self-conscious about the inch of skin showing above her navel. “Are they in your coven?”

  “Yes.” She must feel terribly underdressed gazing at the girls. They have taken the art of power dressing to the ultimate level. “Don’t worry, you look great.”

  Jen stands with the toes of her shoes slanted in as if to anchor herself from a verbal onslaught. I must admit the girls, wearing their versions of the little black dress, look like an updated version of Charlie’s Angels. She hangs back, but I ignore her hesitation. “Hey, gang. This is Jen.”

  Glenda is playing the glamazon look for all it’s worth wearing six-inch heels to make her even taller. She tousles her curly blonde bob out of her face and puts down her martini. She gives Jen her best celebrity smile. “Hi, I’m Glenda. Nice to meet you.”

  Tara has no filter as usual and reaches over and hugs Jen like she’s known her for years. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Tara, welcome to the family.”

  I gently pull her off Jen. “Geez Tara, let the girl breathe.”

  Shana’s freckles are even more prominent under the bright gallery lights. Her carrot red hair matches the red in the painting she is standing under. Ever the shy witch, she gives Jen a weak smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Shana.”

  Sensing Shana’s shyness, Jen waves at her. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  I wrap my arm around Jen’s shoulders. “Enough formalities. So, gang, what do you think of the exhibit?”

  “Who cares about the art?” Tara tosses her long black hair over her shoulder. “Did you see the artist? He’s hot!”

  Glenda chimes in. “Have you heard him talk? That British accent is dreamy.”

  “I think his paintings are amazing,” Shana squeaks out. “Wish I could afford one.”

  The girls are doing a wonderful job of selling Ainsley. I point to a picture over the bar. “He’s super popular so they make prints of his artwork.”

  Tara rolls her eyes. “I didn’t come for the art. Are there any good prospects out there?”

  Glenda casually twirls the olive in her drink. “Hot rich dude, twelve o’clock.”

  A blush spreads across Shana’s cheeks. “The buff guy at the other end of the bar isn’t bad, either.”

  Jen scopes out the guys the girls mentioned. “This might be a stupid question, but can’t you cast a spell to get any man you want?”

  Tara laughs. “Of course we can. But what’s the fun in that? I like to go fishing just like regular girls.”

  I nod knowing Tara works her own magic on the guys. Her crusade is always on her mind. “We’re kind of old fashioned when it comes to catching a guy.”

  Glenda’s mass of blond curls shakes back and forth. “Why don’t you tell the truth? If we really want someone, we can have them.”

  The other girls nod. My attention is drawn to a distinguished looking businessman type who is approaching the bar. My witch senses tell me he’s hi
ding a secret and I’m going to see if I can find out what it is. “How much you guys want to bet I leave with the guy in the suit?”

  Jen’s brow furrows. “What about Chad? I thought you guys had great chemistry.”

  I roll my eyes knowing Chad is so yesterday. Besides, Jerome has been haunting me in my dreams. “He’s cute, but I like more mature guys. The businessman headed for the bar is perfect.”

  Tara gives me a dirty look. “Hey, that’s cheating. You know his type totally falls for your mysterious vibe.”

  Jen teeters nervously in my mom’s wedges. “Hope you have fun fishing. I’m going to check out the art.”

  I shrug my shoulders knowing I now have the businessman on my radar. But in the end, tonight is all about getting Ainsley and Jen together. “Okay. Go and check out Ainsley’s work. You can get home by yourself if I get lucky, right?”

  Her face grows pale. “Can one of the girls help me out? You know I’m still on curfew. I had to sneak out of the house to get here.”

  I really need to do something about that mother of hers. “Yeah, Shana can hook you up no problem. Just ask her.”

  Jen turns toward the main gallery eager for a distraction. “Right. Catch you later.”

  I watch her vanish behind an exhibit wall and hope that Ainsley will like Jen enough to give her a chance. Strutting over to the businessman lingering at the bar, I get a distinct vibe from him. He’s tall and lanky with sharp facial features. His light blond hair goes just past his collar. I try to scan his aura but somehow, he has blocked it from me. It’s just a faint grey blur around him. The business suit must be to throw people off. This is no ordinary businessman, he’s paranormal—but what kind? With his aura hidden, I’m going to have to use my witch senses to try and discover what he is and why he has been ogling me. Leaning across the bar, I flag down the bartender. “Can I get a glass of white wine, please?”

  The businessman snickers. “You’re a bit young to be ordering an alcoholic beverage.”

  How could he know that? I’m always fooling people about my age. Most guys guess I’m around the same age as the rest of the girls in the coven who are in their mid to late twenties.

  He laughs. “Not everyone.”

  Right, this guy must be a vamp. He’s reading my mind. “Okay, enough of the parlor tricks. What do you want?”

  He holds out his long thin hand. “My name is Flynn, I’m a psychic.” He takes out a gold business card from his inside jacket pocket, and hands it to me. It has a classic black etched eye at the top just like I’ve seen in a print from the turn of the century. “I’m here because my spirit guide has a message for you.”

  “That has got to be the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard.”

  He smiles revealing flawless bright white teeth. “I will not deny the fact that you are attractive, but I do not have a propensity for women.”

  To each their own. “Right. Then what message do you have for me?”

  He eyes the crowd around the bar. “Not here. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

  My witch senses are on high alert, but I don’t get a bad vibe from him—just a mysterious one. “Okay, let me go say good-bye to my friend first.”

  He nods, gets up from the bar, and pays for my wine. “As you wish.”

  I eye the girls who are laughing and trying to act like they haven’t been watching me talking to Flynn—the businessman turned psychic. I whisper in his ear. “Can you do me a favor and pretend you are interested in me.” I glance over at the girls. “I have a bet riding on it.”

  He sighs. “I normally would not condone such childish behavior, but my spirit guide was adamant about my speaking with you.”

  “Do you know what he wants to tell me?”

  “My guide is a woman, and she wanted to speak with you personally.”

  The whole spirit guide thing kind of creeps me out. You have to be willing to let some deity or dead person inhabit your mind and use your body as a vessel. I shiver at the thought. Wrapping my arm around his, I lead Flynn toward where I see Jen lingering next to a large wood nymph painting. “Let’s move into the main gallery. I see my friend.”

  He nods as I turn and wave at the girls. Tara gives me a thumbs up.

  As we walk toward Jen, out of the corner of my eyes I spy Ainsley moving at hyper vampire speed away from a group of people he’d just been talking to. The next thing I know he ends up standing right next to Jen. I’m surprised he would use his skill in a crowded gallery, but maybe he was afraid Jen was going to leave. He must have not had a chance to speak with her yet. She turns away from the wood nymph painting she is looking at and stares up at Ainsley. He smiles and introduces himself. I yank on Flynn’s arm knowing I better make sure they get off to a good start. My destiny is riding on it.

  “Hey, Jen, I see you’ve met up with the man of the evening.”

  She smiles at Ainsley. “Yes, I have. And I hear you’ve been talking about me.”

  I force a mock look of shock on my face. “Who, me?”

  Jen eyes Flynn who is playing the part of a man totally into me by stroking my hair. “So, Brooklyn, are you ready to go?”

  I stroke the psychic’s hand. “No. Flynn and I are heading out to have a drink at Chateau Marmont.”

  She knows I’m too young to drink, but like a good friend she says nothing. “Okay, guess I’m on my own.”

  I whisper in her ear, “I did warn you.”

  Part of me wants to stay and make sure Ainsley truly likes her, but I can tell by the twinkle in his eye he is happy to have met her. I have to trust Jen is attracted to him enough to do the rest.

  I squeeze Flynn’s hand knowing a larger part of me is dying to know what his spirit guide has to say.

  As we head toward the door someone enters my mind—Ainsley. “Thank you for introducing me to Jennifer. You were right. I like her very much, already.”

  I smile as he leaves my mind. My plan couldn’t have worked out better if I cast a spell.

  Flynn gives me a strange look. “You have a Cheshire Cat grin.”

  “I’m just happy my friends seemed to have hit it off.”

  His brow furrows. “You are happy she is with a vampire?”

  Ugh. Flynn is pretty good at mind reading.

  It is his turn to sport a huge grin. “Why, thank you.”

  “So, what do you say about going to the Chateau Marmont?”

  He loops his arm around mine. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  Chateau Marmont is a classic old Hollywood hotel that sits high at the top of Sunset Boulevard. Its French castle façade is accented by a turret with a conical roof. It steps back up the hill making it look like a fortress. As the valet zooms off in Flynn’s Mercedes, I imagine myself in France. One day I really need to travel to France and stay in a real château.

  Flynn takes the lead down the path toward the bar entrance. My anticipation for his big reveal bubbles up inside. The suspense is killing me. We walk under the famous Marmont bar canopy and into the dark red glow of the foreboding inner sanctum of the bar. It’s been visited by more old Hollywood luminaries than you can count. In its more recent past, the Marmont is famous for where Jim Belushi from Saturday Night Live met his end.

  As I take in the ominous red glow of the room, I can’t think of a more appropriate place to have our meeting. A hostess leads us to a table in the darkest corner of the bar. When Flynn sits down across from me, I can barely see him. The only illumination we have is an old candlestick light on our table, and the light reflecting off the mirrors behind the bar shelves stocked with every name brand bottle of liquor you can imagine. Old fringed hanging lamps hover over the bar looking like strange exotic birds. The place is hypnotizing.

  The hostess places two long skinny menus on the table and says, “Harry can make you whatever you want. But if I were to pick anything off the menu, I’d get the Forbidden Fizz. It’s a classic.”

  Flynn eases back into his padded leather chair. “I thought she wou
ld never leave.”

  “Is your spirit guide ready to talk?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I need to have peace and quiet so I can let her in.”

  The bar only has two other people lingering inside tonight. It’s only eight o’clock and Hollywood doesn’t even begin to kick into high gear until midnight. “Do you mind if I get a drink? I need to relax, too.”

  He shakes his head as I get up and stroll over to the bar, noticing the hostess is busy with the other couple. I lean across the bar wondering who else stood at this exact spot in the long ago past of the fifties. Could it be James Dean or maybe Natalie Wood? I read they came here when they were filming Rebel Without a Cause.

  Harry gives me a quick smile. He’s handsome with high cheekbones and sandy blond hair. He’s obviously an actor moonlighting as a bartender. “What can I get for you?” He looks at me a bit closer. “I’m going to need to see an ID.”

  Man, my looking-like-I’m-in-my-mid-twenties mojo has totally left me today. “No problem, I’ll take a virgin Bloody Mary.”

  He nods. “I can do that.”

  I watch as he pulls out a bottle of tomato juice from the bar fridge and picks out a nice tall crystal glass. He motions toward my table. “Looks like your partner is asleep. You can hang out up here if you need to ditch him.”

  Harry is the perfect bartender—perceptive and caring. “Thanks for the offer. But it’s okay. He’s just had a really long day.”

  He gives me a wink and hands me the virgin Bloody Mary with a big celery stick sticking out of the top of the glass. “You have a good evening.”

  I stuff back a laugh that he thinks I slept with Flynn—so not my type even if he was into women. Easing back into my chair, I try not to disturb Flynn who has his eyes closed and taking long slow breaths. He must be trying to free his mind so that his spirit guide can enter. Taking a few sips of my drink, I wait for something to happen. My Bloody Mary is half gone by the time Flynn’s eyes pop open. A faint eastern European female voice comes out of his mouth. “I am Irena, and I am here to warn you of a coming event.”

 

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