by R. L. Wilson
His gaze focuses on the ceiling, his irises now gray. His eyes blink sluggishly. I trail my finger down his arm and his skin weaves together layer by layer. His breathing slows, and he blinks repeatedly. He’s coming around, thank God. I almost lost him. He lets out a sigh.
After I finished healing the man, the skin on his arm is tight and shiny, his original color replacing the blackened flesh, as well as his pale face finally gaining traces of its usual coloring.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and exhale. I’m hoping any minute he will talk. He moves his arms, and narrows his gaze on my face as I patiently wait for him to speak.
He mutters, “Thank you.”
“Relax and take it slow, you need to rest.”
Fatigue hits me hard after healings. Lately, each time it takes more energy. The patient feels weak too, but his strength will recover in time.
Those two words filled my heart with joy; it’s one of the reasons I continue to offer my healing skills. The other reason is I’m forced to help Prentiss with his illegal operations.
Few super-naturals appreciate what I do to save lives. Some even have a sense of entitlement. But I don’t owe anyone, not even Prentiss. In my opinion the two grand he paid me covered six months of services not two years.
The side door opens, then the wind flows in as the bell rings out announcing a new arrival. Winston didn’t yell, so it’s someone he recognizes. I continue sitting on the floor at Patrick’s side, unwilling to acknowledge the person who walked in.
The footsteps arrive within my range of view and I glare at the black boots standing beside me. I breathe in the scent of decaying flesh.
No need to tell me who the asshole standing beside me is.
Chapter 2
“Prentiss, thank God you came,” Winston says.
I continue watching Patrick as his breathing returns to normal. I glare over at Prentiss. He wears a black suit with a red tie. Does he think he’s a politician? He walks around as if he owns the place. He is tall, muscular, with a long black beard. Most people are only respectful towards him because they fear him.
I’m momentarily confused by Winston reaction. Why would Prentiss’s presence excite him? He did nothing. I’m doing the healings. I try to keep a straight face, avoiding a deep frown at the sight of Prentiss.
“Of course, I came.” He extends his hand and shakes Winston’s. Winston’s eyes dance and the corner of his mouth curls into a smile. It’s not like he’s shaking the president’s hand. “How many people got hurt?” Prentiss asks.
“Just Patrick here. We need you around more often, they could attack anytime.”
“Are you okay? Do you want to sit in a chair?” I ask Patrick.
“Yes,” he nods. “I’m better,” Patrick says.
He stands to his feet as his eyes dart around the room. His gaze stops at Prentiss, his face sparkling like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Prentiss pulls a chair out and waves. Patrick hobbles over to the table and plops in the chair.
“Are you comfortable?” Prentiss asks.
Oh, now he’s concerned, ha-ha! What a fucking disgrace. He has this whole town under a spell.
“Better, thanks, Mr. Prentiss,” Patrick says.
I grab the towel and rise to my feet; I can’t take this anymore. I’m tired and ready to go home.
“I want to apologize to everyone. I should do a better job protecting my community,” Prentiss says.
He promises Winston he will make this right. He will keep the streets safe. Winston is smiling and nodding in adoration. What a fool.
“I’ll do everything in my power to make the neighborhood safe. You will be able to raise your children for generations.” He’s a walking sales pitch and full of shit.
I hand the towel to Prentiss then cross the red-and-white checkered tile in the direction of the door. He doesn’t need to sell me anything. I’m already sold. I glance out the front window and find the crowd has disappeared except for a woman holding a small child in her arms.
She waves and smiles at me. Her face unfamiliar, I turn and glance at Winston. “You want me to open the door?”
Winston pauses and has a puzzled expression on his face. It’s obvious he’s never seen the young woman before, but I couldn’t leave her outside with an infant.
“That’s my wife and daughter,” Patrick mutters.
“Harmony, before you go anywhere, can I have a word with you?” Prentiss says, his tone harsh and intimidating.
I stop in my tracks and let out a sigh. “Sure.” I don’t want to talk to him, not in private. It makes me nervous.
I follow him past the cash register into the kitchen. The heat from the kitchen is nearly melting the Covergirl off my face. Several large pizza boxes sit on the counter. Three commercial-size ovens are baking.
Prentiss folds his hands, leans against the counter, and glares at me.
“What battle are we facing?”
I shoot a stare his way. “What do you mean?” I slap my hands on my hips. I’m trying to let him know I’m not afraid of his bulky stature, but on the inside, I’m shaking with fear.
He caresses his beard while staring at the ceiling. “Who is responsible for this?”
I bite my tongue on what I wanted to say. “Given the third-degree dragon burn, perhaps it’s the dragons.” The smoke from the oven drifts through the air, causing my eyes to water.
He glares my way with wide green eyes. “Dragons, huh?”
The dragons never wreak havoc on anyone without a reason. This has Prentiss’s name written all over it.
“Yeah, why are the dragons bothering us?” I raised an eyebrow in his direction.
“Listen, I’m not the bad guy here. I’m trying to protect the super-naturals.” He grabs his tie and loosens it. His voice lowers to a growl.
“Never said you were. Just curious, why they’re targeting us.” My body now heats from his possessive tone.
“The dragons are trying to conquer territory. I made a move. It upset them.”
Yeah, the truth is he made a stupid move putting us all in danger. I don’t need his protection; I didn’t go around bullying people.
I fight back a sneeze. Didn’t anyone ever clean the oven around here? My plans were not to be stuck in a smoky kitchen talking with Prentiss.
I don’t want any part of his crooked operation. I wish I could teleport back to the fateful day when I took his money in exchange for my services, not realizing I signed an eternal contract.
Not to mention the lethargy. After every healing, the lethargy kicks into high gear. I want to be a normal nineteen-year-old, party, drink, and dye my hair funny colors. I want to run away and live my life. But Prentiss won’t give me away easily. I’m not important to him but valuable—he wanted me for my power, my magic something no one else possessed. I’m the difference between a supernatural living or dying.
Prentiss grabs my arm. I glare at his hand and narrow my gaze at his face. An icy chill skitters up my back. I stay calm.
“Remember, it’s between us, right?” Darkness appears across his face, then an evil smile. “You are tied to me.” He points to my collar. The collar he put on my neck two years ago when he found out I had magic. Every time I try to take it off, I get sick.
“Sure.” I snatch my hand away and shoot a sharp stare at him so hard it should leave a bleeding cut. “I’ll see you around.”
“You sure will,” he smiles, exposing his fangs.
He’s one bloodthirsty vampire I don’t want in my presence. It annoys me, how he shows his fangs whenever he talks to me. It’s a scare tactic. I’m a young girl, and he’s a vampire. I must find a way out.
I trot out of the kitchen into the dining room. Winston stands at the register taking an order from a customer; no one else is present. Patrick and his wife must have left.
I scuttle to the bathroom and run cool water in my hands and pat my face. Water always gives me peace. I glare in the mirror at the small green tattoo. The tattoo is a six-pointed star with s
quiggly circles and lines. After every healing, the lines grow higher toward my neck similar to a vine.
I’m not sure what it means, but I need to figure it out soon.
Coffee is imperative to shake off this tiredness. My eyes are heavy. I just want to sit by myself and enjoy my coffee before I go home to Hurricane Morgan.
I stroll the paved sidewalk, crunching on colorful leaves. The slap of my Nikes echoes down the street. Autumn is always pretty in Silver Park. The birds chirp above my head as the trees sway. It’s still a humid, sticky day despite it being autumn. Magic has been used in the atmosphere so much it has changed the climate.
Silver Park is quiet and if you’re not from uptown, you could mistake this for a suburb. But supernatural communities are far from a quiet suburb. What lurks beneath is deceptive, evil, and fights over territory.
I arrive at the coffee shop and question if I have five dollars to spare. I don’t, but I need the coffee. I freeze and take a sniff. Oh yes, caramel mocha. It reminds me of home, of Saturday morning when Dad and I walked to the cafe. I always got coffee with extra caramel. Dad liked his coffee black with no cream or sugar. The good days when Dad was alive.
I swing the glass door open and nearly hit a man leaving the diner. “Excuse me, sir. I didn’t see you standing there.”
“It’s ok,” he says, stepping to the side.
I stand at the register and wait for a host.
A waitress parades past, her tail hanging underneath her dress. Is it safe to shift during the day in public? I’ve come to this diner my entire life. It’s not a supernatural-only diner. I glance at the hostess coming in my direction then back at the waitress and her tail has disappeared. I rub my eyes. I’m tired. My mind is playing tricks.
“Table for one?” the waitress asks, then pulls Chapstick from her pocket and smears it across her lips before rubbing them together.
I nod my head yes. I’m not ashamed I came here alone. All the seats are full. The streets are quiet because everyone is here eating and gossiping.
She leads me to a small booth near the back window. The window faced the parking lot. The sizzle of meat and eggs pierces the air. Despite that, I only have coffee on my mind. The waitress comes over to take my order.
“What can I get you?” She hands me a menu. Her eyes are steel gray, her hair long and blonde.
I give a dismissive wave. “I don’t need a menu, I know what I want.”
I glance over at her and she has long ears to her shoulders. My eyes widen. This time I’m not tripping; she keeps shifting. Maybe she has a disorder.
She says nothing, but I’m sure she sees my facial expression. I can’t hide my feelings.
“I’ll take a large caramel mocha.”
“Anything else?” she asks while writing my order on a pad.
“No, that’s all.”
“I’ll be right back.” She slides the pencil behind her ear. The pad could fit behind her ear. She walks off but her vanilla perfume lingers.
I grab my phone from my purse and scroll my social media. A vibration shakes the salt and pepper shaker. Glaring across the table, a man sits with his hands folded, staring at me.
My eyes dance around and my heart flutters. “Hello. This table is private.”
Chapter 3
“If it’s private, why did you call me?” He leans forward and rests his elbow on the table.
This fool has lost the little mind he has left. I didn’t call anyone. He sits across from me with a sneer. He’s watching me. But his hat is nearly covering his eyes. I wasn’t sure what he’s looking at. Is he hiding something?
“Call you? I didn’t call you.” I tilt my head to the side, a quick glance into his eyes showing him I’m serious.
He takes off his hat and I can view his eyes better. Momma says eyes are the window to the soul. And viewing his soul, I see he’s not a bad guy or a snake. He doesn’t appear to be sick. I can view sickness within the body, even if the paranormal doesn’t know their sick, I do. He is supernatural, but what are his intentions with me? I have a sixth sense for supernaturals. I usually spot them in a crowd. Nine times out of ten, I’m right.
“You have a problem you need help with; now I’m here. My name is Kato.” He extends his hand. I hesitate but I shake it. His golden skin is smooth and free from blemishes.
I tap my hands on the table, intrigued by the handsome stranger who sits across from me. I’m not sure I trust him, but I realize I do need help. Can he rid my life of Prentiss? The desire to be free of Prentiss has been a burning seed in the pit of my belly.
“Here is your coffee,” the waitress says while setting a cup on the table. Steam dances around the rim. The way I wanted it, piping hot. She turns and faces Kato. “Can I get you something, sir?”
“No, I didn’t come to eat.”
He continues to keep his gaze on me, licking his thin pink lips. He might be trustworthy…here goes nothing. I let out a sigh. “I kind of need your help.” I already feel my blood boiling, causing my temperature to rise. Every time Prentiss comes to mind, I get heated.
“I have this collar around my neck.” I lift my head to show the collar. “Every time I take it off, I get sick. And nearly pass out, until I put the collar back on, then everything is fine.” I take a gulp of my mocha.
“Ok.” He stares at the silver collar slapped tight around my neck. There are no diamonds, it isn’t sterling silver, it isn’t jewelry. It might be a tracking device.
“Wait, there’s more. I’m a healing witch—the only one in Michigan. I work for a slime ball and I want to resign. But he won’t let me.” The warmth of rage consumes my face, my teeth clenching tight.
“Relax,” Kato says. His voice is low and calming. I’m sure my aura came off as anger. My stomach balls into knots.
“I can help you, but there’s a price you have to pay.” He shrugs.
I’m not paying him anything. I don’t have any money, and I’m definitely not paying with my body. I didn’t call him; he appeared saying he will help me. I give him a puzzled gaze, warning him not to fuck with me.
His cheeks turn pink as he smiles. revealing two dimples, one deeper than the other. “No, don’t worry, I’m not asking for any money.” He sits straight and leans closer to the table. “I’ll need a vial of your blood.”
My mouth drops open and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Blood? What are you some kind of vampire?”
I cringe since most vampires are shady characters and sneaky. As soon as you become friends, they sneak in and bite.
He chuckles. “No, I’m not a vampire. I’m a Voodoo priest.”
He says it with such confidence. Not all Voodoo priests are bad.Some practitioners take your blood and use them for evil things. I didn’t believe they all practiced black magic. The magic is the same, it’s the practitioner who makes it dark.
“If you help me, I’ll give my blood and anything else you ask for.” My hand trembling, I grab my mocha and take a huge gulp.
“I’ll help you a bit now to remove the collar.”
He pulls a small blade from his pocket and extends his hand out. It gets hotter in this diner, the temperature sky rocketing twenty degrees. A rolling band of sweat trickles down my face.
“It won’t hurt, trust me.”
I lay my hand on the table as he grabs a small clear tube from his pocket. He nicks my arm and several drops of blood flow into the tube. There isn’t any pain. He collects my blood in a matter of seconds.
“Wow, that was fast and painless.” I wipe the sweat from my face then glance at my arm. It’s spotless, no marks or bruises.
“Now remove it,” he tells me.
Could I remove this collar without getting sick and nearly passing out? I take it off and set it on the table.
I glare at the collar. Is it possible to not wear it ever again? The faintness hasn’t kicked in yet. My vision is not blurry. Not having to wear this collar means I’m free. The world is huge, and I want to explore ever
y inch of it. A heaviness pounds my chest. How could I leave Momma and my best friends, Morgan and Scott? Prentiss is such an asshole he might hurt them to get to me. I have to be strategic.
Kato reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small brown bag. I’m not sure what he has up his sleeves, but I’m keeping my eye on him. There’s a strong scent of garlic emanating from the bag. I lean back in the booth and turn my face toward the window.
“It’s okay to focus on me, relax.”
I glance his way. He pours brown dust resembling sand into his hand and blows the dust in my face. It doesn’t hurt my eyes, but my vision clouds and I’m in another world. Forcing my eyes open, I expect Kato to be sitting across from me. He’s not.
“Tell me who’s there,” Kato suggests.
“A girl with long curly brown hair. She has freckles and wears a white dress.” She could be a relative of mine, her face round and pudgy, similar to Momma’s. I don’t get a glimpse of her eyes because she’s staring at something.
The universe moves in slow motion. I’m floating in a dream world.
She has a grip around a knife in her right hand, covered in blood. My heart pulses in my throat. My breathing has increased. Did she hurt herself or someone else?
“What is it?” Kato asks.
“A knife covered in blood.”
I continue viewing as a young boy sprints across the road. He has a dark jacket and one shoe. I notice the other shoe a few feet behind him in the street. He turns his head and glances at the lady but keeps running. He doesn’t appear injured and there’s no blood. But whatever he’s running from scared the hell out of him.
Charging toward me are two werewolves, less than five feet from me. Their eyes are green; one has blood stuck to his fur. I gasp and cover my mouth. The ground rattles under my feet. How the hell do I get out of this nightmare? The scent of rotten flesh invades my nostrils. I stumble back, getting the hell out of the way.
“Kato, they will kill me!” I scream.
The vision goes blank and Kato is sitting in front of me. My entire shirt drenched in sweat. With trembling hands, I tap the table and run my hand across the booth.
