JINXED: (Karma Series, Book Two)

by Donna Augustine

  “I'm not in a rush.” I folded my hands behind my head and leaned back, blood be damned.

  Eight minutes later, the same jean-clad man walked into the room with an iced tea, a lime slice perched on the side of the glass.

  Kitty's head popped up, then her whole body seemed to perk up. She looked at the glass and then around the rest of the room.

  That's right Kitty, I'm coming for you.

  Chapter 15

  Locked Up Tight

  Last night, after meeting Malokin, I'd gone to bed with a storm shaking the condo's very walls. I'd told myself it was just Mother's hurricane. It wasn't the Universe. When I'd killed the man who was supposed to have lived, the storm had only lasted about forty minutes. This one went on for hours.

  The sun was finally shining when I drove to the office that morning. Considering how bad the weather had been, the damage seemed minimal. A few ripped awnings here and there, and some debris and dead branches that had finally lost their grip, but nothing earth shattering.

  I parked in the lot and strolled into the building, coffee in one hand and manual in the other. Last night, I’d decided no matter what else I did, I needed to remain calm and take this day-by-day.

  I’d locate Kitty and everything would be fine. She wasn’t in the Shangri La, but she looked sound. Everything would work out. For now, I needed to go into the office and act as if nothing was amiss.

  I opened the door and found the place in an uproar and a small kernel of fear started to unfurl within me. Don’t get crazy. This probably has nothing to do with you.

  Taking a few steps in, I overheard one of the Jinxes say, “How could he have not died?”

  And there went my pancakes. I managed to keep them down but it was a fight. Maybe I should start skipping breakfast altogether.

  Everyone at the office had already been on edge before. After Kitty disappeared suddenly, without a single goodbye, no one was feeling very secure of late. I'd seen a list of the retirees in the last few years. It was staggering in its numbers. They had a reason to feel like they were hanging over a precipice. Problem was, they couldn't see how deep the fall was. Neither could I, for that matter, but we all felt the chill blowing up from the chasm below.

  Still, I hadn't expected this amount of upheaval because I had saved a single life. Again, this was when a manual might come in handy.

  They were all gathered around Harold, even employees who preferred their own office space, like the Tooth Fairy and his assistants.

  Fate was here too, but he wasn't hovering around anyone for details. He was perched on the side of my desk, eyes only for me as I walked farther into the room.

  His stare was condemning, but he couldn't possibly know I'd had anything to do with it. Still, he looked like he not only knew but was royally pissed about it, too.

  Ignoring his presence the best anyone could with Fate, I neared the cluster of people questioning Harold. I watched as the slender redhead raised his hands to quiet them down.

  “There was a change in plans. Everything was approved.” His words would've been much more believable if he hadn’t had a hitch in his voice.

  Crow raised his hand like he was still in grammar school. “But the bird I sent out—”

  “I have nothing else to say about it at this point. As I explained, it was just a last minute change.” Harold turned abruptly, walked into his office and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed through the room, followed by the lock clicking into place as everyone was still staring at the spot he'd just occupied.

  Scanning the group, Murphy seemed the most likely source for reliable information. He was also standing the farthest away from Fate. With a tug to his arm, I motioned for him to follow me to the outer limits of the room, away from prying ears and a few more feet from the condemning stare.

  “What's going on?”

  “Someone who was supposed to die last night didn't.” The extent of the calamity he believed this to be was there in the urgent pitch of his voice, but I didn’t understand why.

  “So what? Things change all the time,” I said.

  “These things don’t. It was a Lock.”

  “You're right, I don't get it. What's a Lock?” I crossed my arms, getting slightly defensive. “And don't give me that look.”

  “What look?”

  “The ‘oh God, the transfer doesn't understand again’ look.” I tried to mimic the way I was sure they said it to each other.

  “I don't do that.” His face scowled but then shifted into something closer to doubt. “Do I?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes shot over toward Harold's door and his voice dropped another octave as he asked, “As bad as Harold?”

  I shrugged and relented on that score. “Not as bad as him but worse than Death.”

  “That's not fair.” Murphy took a step back, as if he’d just been put into the ring with Muhammad Ali. “You can't use Death as an example. Do you know he waited over a month once to collect a stubborn soul? Do you know what it's like to compete with that kind of patience?”

  I sighed. “I understand. Death is a saint.” Wait, that didn’t sound right. “Maybe not a saint, I don't know. Forget about this.” I waved my hands trying drop the subject. “Just tell me about these Locks.”

  Murphy went to perch on the corner of the desk near him before he remembered it was Kitty's. He stopped himself and leaned the other way. “Most things have flexible futures and many possible outcomes. These narrow as the time of events near, but every now and then, there are certain courses that have been set in motion for years and years. They are referred to as Locks. They've been predestined, you know about them way in advance and they never change. You’ll get your orders for a Lock sometimes decades in advance.”

  “But things change constantly? If nothing else is fixed around these events, how can that be?” I should probably bang my head against the wall for asking. Looking for logic here was akin to asking to speak to the sanest inhabitant of the asylum.

  “It doesn’t matter. That one thing will not change.” His eyes shot to Harold’s closed door. “Or hasn’t, until now. One of the most common Locks is when someone is going to die. Not every death is a Lock, just certain people who are slated to move on at very precise times. No matter what these people do, when they wake up that day, they're getting called up. Locks can be getting a job or having a child. There's all different events, but if it's a Lock, it's written in stone.”

  “And this person's death was a Lock?” Then why didn’t he fall off the boat and break his neck on the dock or something? What exactly did I do last night?

  “Yes. He was supposed to die and he didn't.” Murphy’s eyes were back on me, but I could see them dart to Harold’s door every so often.

  I crossed my arms again and then undid them immediately, dropping them into what I thought looked like a relaxed position. “Well, maybe the Universe changed its mind, like Harold said? And what's the big deal? Things will just settle in a different direction.”

  Murphy gave me a ‘the transfer isn’t getting it again’ look, but I let this one slide. It was better than the reality of what I was really doing, which was clinging to denial.

  “It's sent ripples through everything. I had a job last night that got canceled, minutes before I got there. A Lock event is something woven into the fabric of the Universe and time. It's like taking all the water out of the ocean. It can't be done. I've been here centuries and not once has this happened.”

  The air felt like it was thinning. No matter how deeply I tried to breathe, I couldn't get enough. I stared at the door, plotting a direct pathway to it, without having to talk to anyone. I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder.

  “Where are you going? Don't you want to stick around and see if we get any more information?” Murphy looked at me, surprised by my imminent departure.

  “I forgot I've got to get Smoke some cat food. Call me if you hear anything.”

  He nodded and then went to gather a
t Harold's closed door, where everyone else was still standing.

  I needed to get out of the office into the empty hall. Having a panic attack in the middle of everyone might wave a couple of red flags. And since when had I started getting panic attacks? That was easy. Since I’d started hiding things.

  I needed to relax and be my normal logical self. It wasn't that big of a deal. So I'd messed up a Lock. So what? Murphy was always melodramatic and overreacted to situations. I just needed to hold it together until I got out of here.

  Two more feet to go and a set of fingers wrapped around my arm. I didn't need to look to know who it was.

  “What?” I snapped, my nerves getting the best of me.

  He dropped his hand, daring me to walk away from him. But he didn't say anything—just stared—and it was a thousand times worse. There was something about the way he looked at me. There was an intensity when his eyes met mine; everything else fell away and all I saw was him. Sometimes it was unsettling but not altogether bad. Other times—like now—it made me want to hide.

  When my hands started to fidget, I shoved them in my pockets. Let him stare. It didn't matter.

  Then I blurted out, “Are you going to speak?”

  He did an obvious scan of the room. It was like he was erecting a visual barricade that told everyone else to keep their distance. We were already separated by a good ten feet in every direction, and after that look, I didn't expect anyone would be coming closer.

  I looked around now, too. Yeah, they’d gotten his message and had their own interpretation. “Stop doing that. It looks like we're having a lover's tiff.”

  “Where were you last night?” he asked, not caring a bit how it looked.

  “I don't answer to you.”

  His hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder, but something changed in the way he was looking at me, his eyes softening slightly. “Tell me what's going on.”

  If he'd come at me with more bossiness or anger, I might have shut down. But he didn't. I wasn’t sure if it was concern or friendship he was offering, but something in me wanted to respond to it and tell him everything. I needed help, and this was exactly who he was after. He could handle this.

  Maybe I'd missed the bug in my condo. Or maybe Lars was playing both sides. But I could trust Fate. It was just something I felt. He'd keep this quiet until we figured out a plan.

  I've always been independent but never stupid. There was no denying I could use some help. Being an agency of one wasn’t a lot of fun.

  I bit my lower lip as I contemplated the outcome of either choice. Then I nodded. “Come outside with me.” He didn't even know anything yet, but just the prospect of unloading on someone else loosened the vise on my chest. The tension in my muscles unknotted slightly. I didn't have to do this alone.

  His eyes softened and he nodded back. He walked toward the door and the moment I started after him, my phone vibrated, alerting me to a new text message. The caller ID told me it was Malokin.

  I looked back up as Fate turned to see why I was lagging behind. I didn't want to pull out my spare phone in the middle of the office, but my purse was large enough for me to see the text message that just buzzed its arrival.

  I wouldn't do that if you care for Kitty.

  I let go of the phone like it was poisonous. How had he known? Was the office bugged too? Was there someone here watching me? My eyes scanned the room frantically. No, it wasn’t anyone here. The only person who had been in both places was Fate and I’d seen every move he’d made in the last two minutes.

  The vise around my chest was back and it was even tighter than before. I didn't know how he was getting his information but until I did, I couldn't let anyone in. The feeling was altogether horrible.

  Fate's eyes were on me. Don't fidget or act upset. Keep your composure. Remain calm. No, that wasn’t an option, especially not around him. My best option was pretending I was calm.

  I walked toward Fate but stopped him with a hand to his arm when he thought I was ready. It was better to tell him here, than alone outside.

  “You know, right now isn't a good time, actually. I think maybe tomorrow would be better.” I rattled on another few sentences about bad timing, not even aware of what I was saying anymore, just spewing out whatever line I thought would stall him.

  His deep-set eyes sunk even deeper with the furrow that formed on his brow. My excuses picked up their tempo until his stare, so condemning, robbed me of my voice altogether.

  “What was that?” His eyes went right to my purse.

  “What do you mean?” I pulled the strap up firmer on my shoulder and tucked my purse snugly under my arm as I answered.

  “What did you just look at in there?” His fingers went to grab it, but I turned so that he couldn't.

  “Nothing.”

  “Show it to me.” His hands were firm on the straps now, and I started to wonder if we were going to end up in a brawl over possession of my purse.

  “What I do is my business.” I yanked my purse out of his hands and took a step back.

  He wasn't going to concede. This was going to get ugly, and it was going to happen in the middle of the office, with everyone watching. Alone might have been the better choice. I could feel the sweat forming on my brow.

  “Please, not here. Not now.”

  There was the slightest softening around his mouth, but I didn't know if it was going to be enough to make him let it go.

  “Fate!”

  We both turned to see one of Mother's gardeners coming down the hall.

  “Mother's having a tizzy,” he said, winded as he stopped next to us, oblivious to the tension.

  Fate looked at the gardener. “Not now.”

  The guy visibly swallowed and then blurted out quickly, “But she says she's going to take out the entire continent of South America.”

  He was staring at me; I was staring back, and the gardener just stood there, staring at both of us.

  I could hear him taking deep breaths. It was clear what he wanted to do, but he wouldn’t. He’d go with the gardener because, well, it was the entirety of South America we were talking about. No rational person would let a whole continent go down just to see the contents of a purse.

  I was right, wasn’t I? I wanted to scream, leave, go save the continent, already.

  Just when I thought he might let South America go down, he walked away.

  Chapter 16

  Wasted Mornings

  “Like I told her, I can't do it.”

  Death was standing there in his khakis and sweater vest, a regular Mr. Rogers. Fate stood next to him in head-to-toe black. Logic would dictate that it should've been Death in all black, but I'd given up on such foolish concepts as logic.

  They were standing in the hallway off the lobby and hadn't noticed my arrival yet. A polite person would've notified them of their presence. I found a nice spot behind the fake potted plant. Common courtesy was another thing I'd given up in my adaptation to my new surroundings. My death had really brought out the best in me.

  “There's no way?” Fate asked, clearly talking about me. The thing I couldn't get my head around is when he'd decided he was in charge of everything in my life.

  In the beginning, it made sense. Harold had assigned him the position because I’d been even more clueless than I was now. But why was he still at it? I couldn't turn around without finding him two steps behind me. After yesterday, I’d had to write off showing up here again. If I hadn’t wanted to try and search Kitty’s desk for some clues, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the place.

  “I wish I could help,” Death continued, looking honestly sad.

  The throwaway phone in my pocket buzzed against my hip. Fate's head popped up and I shot around the corner and hightailed it out of the door. I should've confronted him on his meddling, but it wouldn’t change anything. No, avoidance was still the best option with him.

  I didn't check my phone until I was in my Honda, a block away. The area code was all zeros, obviousl
y someone with Malokin. Where were they calling from? End of the World, U.S.? It was better than three sixes, although that might have been a more accurate fit.

  I hit call and perched the phone on my shoulder as I drove, trying to put more distance between Fate and me.

  “Hello?”

  “It's Luke.” His voice was nasal, and unnaturally high for a man. “Time to go to work.” He rattled off the name of a restaurant I knew and told me to be there at seven forty-five that evening. Didn't ask me if I could make it, or if I needed the address. He just hung up.

  The cell phone bounced on the seat next to me where I threw it. “What a dick.” Kitty was the only thing that kept me from telling him so.

  But Luke was right about something. It was time to get to work. Sooner I found Kitty; the sooner I could kick his ass.

  It took me about twenty minutes to get to the hotel Malokin had taken me to the other night. I fished through my trunk, grabbed a baseball cap, sunglasses and a paperback, and snuck in through the side gate.

  The place had a beautiful oceanfront pool, with lounge chairs pointed right at the lobby. I kicked up my feet, tugged down my hat and opened the book. It didn’t matter if Kitty wasn't here. Eventually, I'd tail someone back to her location.

  “Miss?” I looked up to see a young woman in a hotel uniform, approximately fifteen minutes later.

  “Yes?” I was expecting her to question my right to be there. Instead, she handed me a note with a smile and left.

  I hope you're enjoying the sun this morning. Unfortunately, I won't be able to join you.

  In the future, please refrain from these types of actions. They could lead to some unfortunate consequences. I’ll know, just as I know every single move you make.

  No one had followed me from the office. I was positive of that. He wasn’t tracing my phones, because I’d left them both at the condo. How was this happening? He knew what was said in my home, but that could've been from a planted listening device I hadn't found. Then he knew I was going to go speak to Fate. Now this?