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“Like you said, I’m one powerful witch. I’ll be fine,” I told him, not feeling as confident as my words.
4
My feet pounded against the worn concrete as I tried to outrun him. It was a pointless action though; he ran faster than the wind. I knew that he was playing with me; he knew I wouldn’t be able to escape. This town was desolate, no witnesses to the terror I was facing. I just had to keep running. I wasn’t sure where he lurked, but he was close, I could feel the buzz of his energy dance on the night air. The empty buildings loomed over me like demons called from the netherworld, menacing and hollow.
I ran through an alleyway to cut across to the next block, hoping that would throw my stalker off my trail. But the swoosh of air overhead as he jumped across the building’s rooftop, was like death itself, laughing at my lame attempts to escape.
I came around the corner and produced a stake. I had been practicing exactly for this reason. It felt bulky and ominous in my palm, but it was my last and only option, since the vampire wasn’t going to let me live. Anthony had been right about them. Why hadn’t I listened?
I heard footsteps behind me but before I could turn my head, his arm wrapped around my throat, his familiar scent no longer welcoming.
I awoke with a start, only realizing I’d been dreaming after Aura meowed at me. She was sleeping on the other side of my bed, where she gave me a pointed look through half slit eyes.
Amy Harper’s memories haunted my dreams as if I had become her, feeling everything as she felt it. I shivered at the images and lay back down, running all of it through my mind. Everything was the same as it had been at the morgue but there was something else, some other information that I hadn’t seen before. I tried to remember everything that happened in the dream, but it was muddled. I lay in bed for fifteen minutes before the answers popped into my head. In the dream, she had mentioned something about an Anthony and that the vampire’s scent was familiar, someone she knew perhaps? But why would someone she knows want to kill her for such a horrific purpose?
**********
After I showered and dressed, I headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Fiona was tapping away on her laptop, while she magically made coffee. I ran into the floating coffee filter and was doused in coffee grounds. In our apartment I never knew what would be floating around when Fiona was home.
She pried her gaze from the computer screen, only after having noticed there was a rift in her magical production line. I brushed the grounds off of my shirt and shot a displeased look towards her.
“You should really watch where you’re going,” she teased.
“And you should really learn to do things without magic. It’s too early in the morning to be on the lookout for flying objects in my own apartment,” I countered. Luckily the coffee had been dry, so clean up was easy, broom and dustpan easy. I didn’t like to flaunt my magic like Fiona did. Maybe I didn’t like taking the easy route all the time.
“Why so grumpy?” Fiona asked, as her eyes slid back to whatever was on her computer screen.
“Sorry, had a bad night,” I said. “What’s so interesting?” I walked over to where she sat and peered at the screen. She had a website pulled up that had a black and red motif. A black banner with a pair of electric blue eyes decorated the top of the screen, followed by the words: Experience the Rush.
“What is this?”
“A new club that’s opening in Hemlock. Wanna go this weekend?” she asked in an overzealous tone.
“The Founder’s Gala is this weekend; I have to work at the shop. ” With two hundred humans visiting this weekend, it was the biggest shopping day of the year in Flora.
“Founder’s Day doesn’t start until Saturday; we can go Friday night,” she said, hoping I’d change my mind. Flora only had one nightclub, Vain, and it was owned by a certain vamp I desperately needed to avoid. My last conversation with Aiden hadn’t been the best but then again, none of our conversations ever went as planned.
“Okay, we’ll check it out but I can’t stay out all night,” I reluctantly told Fiona. I knew she’d go with or without me and with Amy Harper’s dead body etched into my brain; I didn’t want Fiona going to a place like that alone.
“Yes, mother,” Fiona said in a dramatic tone. I stuck my tongue out at her and headed for the door. When it came to Fiona and me, I was the more mature one. Fiona lived her life one day at a time and never thought about consequences. Being an only child of one of the wealthiest warlocks in town, she never had to face consequences.
Eleven cardboard boxes were waiting to be unpacked when I got to my shop. Penny, my part-time associate, was busy filing the invoices while I eyed the boxes with derision. There were special companies that produced products for my store but I hadn’t anticipated getting eleven shipments in one day. They still needed to be priced, inventoried, and stocked. I could manipulate and form objects but I’m not a spell caster, so potions and charmed objects weren’t my forte and had to come from an outside source, if I wanted to stay in business.
“Good morning, Gwen,” Penny said. Today she had her chocolate brown hair pulled up into a ponytail and was outfitted in a black skirt, black V-neck blouse and red and black striped tights. Penny was only nineteen and still coming to terms with being a witch. It didn’t matter whether our parents were witches; the magic had to choose you. Both of my parents were human, but my grandmother was a spell caster. Penny was currently going through a Goth stage, not yet knowing that being a witch didn’t make her a freak, just unique.
“Morning, Penny,” I said, as I took a box cutter to my new inventory. I was greeted with a flurry of packing peanuts, as if a Styrofoam snowstorm had suddenly erupted in the middle of my shop. I watched as little white pieces swirled into the air and danced their way to the garbage can, where they fell. I checked the return address and smiled. In glittery purple ink was Ms. Ozland’s name, one of the most talented spell casters in Flora. I had been buying her items for the shop since I opened, a year ago. In true Ozland fashion, she had enchanted the annoying Styrofoam peanuts to clean up after themselves.
“That was so cool,” Penny gushed, with amused eyes. I nodded my head in agreement; I hated dealing this those damned things.
This month, Ms. Ozland sent enchanted compacts. When opened, the mirror spoke in a sexy male voice and complimented the person on their beauty, in specific detail. The one I was holding said, Beautiful Gwen, is it heaven I see before me? With eyes as blue as the sea and lips so kissable that dare to taunt my dreams. A cascade of ebony down thee back, there is nothing this heaven lacks.
A laugh escaped my lips at the thought that a compact had just recited a poem in my honor. I caught Penny watching me, as if I had lost my mind to be swooned by an enchanted compact. I flipped it shut and said, “These would be great as gag gifts or for a friend who just got dumped. ” Penny didn’t look like she was jumping onto the smooth talking, compact bandwagon.
Penny and I were halfway finished with pricing our entire new inventory when Micah walked in. I was momentarily shocked. I hadn’t seen him since our breakup and thought he’d avoid me while I was working as a consultant with the FPD. His hair was darker than I remembered, almost black. His eyes were still the same amber hue that was associated with weres. He wasn’t wearing his usual FPD attire, preferring jeans and a t-shirt instead.
My feet stayed planted behind the counter, unable to approach him at first. I wasn’t a shy girl, by any means, but Micah was the one guy that broke my heart. Seeing him again was like viewing a wrecking ball that was aimed for the brick wall I’d built around my heart.
“Gwen,” His deep voice addressed me. I busied myself with clearing papers and riffraff from around the register.
“What can I do for you, Micah?” I asked with faux confidence.
“Wyatt would like to hire you as a full time consultant. He was very impressed with the work you did the other day,” h
e said, leaning closer to the counter so that no one else would hear him. “We need all the help we can get on this Amy Harper case; you in?” I considered him for a moment. Despite his nonchalant attitude that tried to persuade me he was comfortable, I wasn’t buying it.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“About what?”
“Me working with the FPD?”
“I know how good you are, Gwen. You could offer some valuable help towards our cases, that’s the only thing that matters,” he spoke matter-of-factly. Part of me was happy that I could continue to help the FPD, but the other half wasn’t sure I wanted to work with Micah.
Amy Harper’s face suddenly flashed into my thoughts again and made my mind up for me. “Of course I’ll do it. I have new information that might help,” I told him, thinking of my dream the previous night.
“Want to grab a coffee?” He asked, surprising me again. “So we can go over the case,” he quickly added, as if I thought he were asking me out purely to spend time with me.
“Sure,” I said noncommittally.
I told Penny to hold down the fort and that I’d be back in a half an hour. There was a cute little coffee shop, Espresso Self, just up the street from Broomsticks that we headed toward. We were silent as we walked, but I could tell Micah was tense being next to me. Good! Served him right. I was gaining confidence with each step we took.
Espresso Self only had a handful of customers but Micah and I took our coffees to a table that was isolated from any eavesdropping patrons. Micah was clearly uncomfortable and reluctant to start a conversation.
“I had a dream last night,” I started.
“I should apologize,” Micah said at the same moment I started to talk. I sealed my lips and waited for him to elaborate further. I knew it wasn’t mature, but I was enjoyed his discomfort more than I should have. He exhaled a deep breath and began again.
“Gwen, I’m sorry for how I ended things between us. I know I could have handled it better, and I’m sorry. ” I considered his words, which sounded sincere. He had a new girlfriend so there was no reason for him to be feeding me a line.
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