by Maeve Hart
“You’ve got one appointment this afternoon at two.” She gave me the address and details. Mr. Jones wanted ideas to renovate his newly purchased loft. By the address and the size of the loft, I knew it would’ve cost upwards of four million dollars. Hopefully, that meant the man had money left over to pay a designer and wouldn’t be one of those time-wasting do-it-yourselfers.
I finished getting dressed and then headed to the kitchen to flick my coffee machine on. There wasn’t much room in the tiny kitchenette for cooking equipment, but a decent coffee-making machine was an essential. Besides, it didn’t take up a great deal of room. I threw a couple of frozen croissants into the microwave, knowing I needed to put food in my stomach. Even before I ate, though, I felt better than I had in a long time. My head was clear and not fuzzy like it’d been in the preceding days.
After I had eaten my pastries and drunk the coffee, I decided to pay my grandmother a visit to find out exactly what had been in that bottle. The label on it had said something about overcoming enemies, and I was pretty certain whatever was in the bottle had affected me in some way. I had to know what it was. I grabbed my large carryall bag and headed out the door. Granny’s house was a fifteen-minute taxi ride away.
As I approached the house, I was glad to see neither my aunt’s nor my mother’s car was there. I knocked on the door and almost immediately it swung open.
My grandmother had always fussed about her appearance. She’d once had bleached blonde hair that was always blow-dried so it kinked under at the bottom, but now that her hair had thinned she wore that same style and color wig. Her nails were always long and brightly painted and her shiny lips were always the same shade as her nails.
“Destiny, what a lovely surprise.” She looked past me and her green eyes narrowed as she scanned the street. “Is your mother with you?”
“No, I’m here alone. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, no, come in.” She stepped back as I walked through the doorway. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea perhaps?”
“Yes, tea please.”
I followed her into the kitchen, trying not to step on the train that flowed from her bright peacock-blue robe. I wondered how to ask about the contents of the jar without her knowing that was the sole reason for my visit. “You’ve never told me much about your magic.” Casually, I slid onto one of her chairs in the kitchen while she got the iced tea.
She stopped pouring, placed the jug down, and stared at me. “You’ve never been bothered about it before. Why the sudden interest?”
She was onto me. I needed a change of subject to take the heat off me. “I’m engaged.” I stuck my hand out toward her to show her the ring.
“Donald?”
I nodded and saw Granny’s well-shaped nose crinkle in disapproval.
“Anyway, the reason for my visit is that I was just wondering if you could use magic for me to know whether he’s the right one for me.”
“Don’t make me do that, dear. You know my thoughts about him.”
I sighed as she handed me my iced tea. “Thank you. Can you show me around your magic potions and all the things you’ve got in your magic room?” I took a sip of tea and waited for her reply.
“I’d like nothing more,” she said before taking a swig of iced tea. “So what prompted the change?”
“I’m just interested, that’s all. I should keep an open mind about these things. I’ve always been so closed-minded. Mom, you, and Flora talk about these things all the time and I thought I should learn a little. If you can’t beat them, join them, that kind of thing.”
Granny laughed. “Okay.” Her green eyes wrinkled at the corners. “Well, there’s no time like the present.” She stood up and tapped me on the shoulder, which I guessed meant I was to follow her. I did.
Chapter 7
I stepped into the spell room after my grandmother. She waited until I was fully in before she reached behind me and closed the door.
She leaned against the long bench in the middle of the room and faced me. “Being a witch is all about intention, but to be a successful witch is a gift. The attention and focus are the tools, and Mother Earth and various other deities help with other bits and pieces.” She pointed to her shelves of jars and bottles.
“So all these things here assist you in doing the spells, the jinxes, et cetera? You could do a spell without these things but they’re more powerful with these potions and herbs?”
“Exactly! See, you’re a natural.”
I gave her a smile and then stepped toward the shelves, not wanting to ask her any direct questions that might raise suspicion. “What’s in all these jars?”
She went through them individually, naming them and describing their purposes.
“I won’t remember everything.”
“No, I don’t expect you will, but we’ve got to start somewhere.”
I nodded as she continued her way along the shelves. When she got closer to the jar I’d spilled, my heart beat so hard against my chest it was painful. Would she sense my eagerness to know what was inside? She looked across at me. I kept my face straight with no expression.
“Now this one,” she said. “This one is special. Have you heard the story of how I killed the Alpha wolf shifter?”
“The werewolf?”
Granny gave a simple nod.
I’d heard the story many times. Not for one minute did I believe Granny was capable of killing any kind of creature, but it had made for an interesting bedtime story when I was a child. “Many times. I’ve heard it many times.”
“In this jar are some of his remains.” She stared proudly at the glass vessel.
Nausea gripped my stomach and I whipped my hand over my mouth.
Looking back at me, she said, “No need to be squeamish.”
Curiosity got the better of me and I forced myself to stand up straight and put my hand back down by my side. I was curious to know why she’d want to keep someone’s remains in a jar while also hoping insanity didn’t run in the family. It was a good thing I hadn’t reproduced. “What do you use the remains for?”
“He was my enemy. Of course, you know all witches and shifters are enemies.”
I raised my eyebrows. That’s something I hadn’t known.
“Anyway, long story short and to answer your question, I ‘overcame my enemy.’ So, I use his remains to help other people overcome theirs.”
I pulled my mouth to one side, trying to make sense of what she’d said.
Seeing my obvious confusion, she added, “Destiny, it’s all about intention.” She tapped a long, bony finger against the side of her head.
“Let me get this straight. You use his remains in other people’s spells when they want to overcome some enemy they have?”
She gave a sharp nod of her head. “Correct.” She placed the bottle back on the shelf.
“What would happen if someone touched his remains?” I figured I’d slipped the question in nicely until Granny swung around and stared at me with her piercing green eyes.
“Not even I touch his remains. I’m most careful. I don’t want to turn into a shifter. I’d rather die or lose all my powers.”
I burst out laughing, knowing there was no such thing as shifters. It was probably just beet juice in the bottle.
Granny raised one eyebrow and scrutinized me.
I coughed and controlled myself. “I’m sorry, Granny.”
“You don’t believe?”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t.” As soon as I said it, I realized I was calling my Granny a liar about killing the shifter werewolf creature, or whatever she wanted to call it. “But, I mean, they could exist. You’ve obviously seen one, so I guess I just think they aren’t real because I’ve never seen one.”
“You wouldn’t want to see one. You wouldn’t have long to live if you saw one. They’re evil.”
I looked away from her. She’d always been eccentric. Mom and Aunt Flora were more normal. Perhaps the insanity g
ot worse with age?
“A long time ago I swore I would protect some people who were having trouble with the shifters. The only way was to kill the Alpha so his followers would disperse, leaving the people safe.”
I suspended my disbelief for a moment to humor Granny. “Tell me about these wolf shifters, Granny.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I butted in. “Apart from the fact that they’re evil.”
“Well, you’ve got that right. They normally live in packs, but no doubt they scattered somewhere and hopefully they’ve all died off by now. One male leads the pack just like normal wolves.”
I remembered stories I’d read about shifters. “So they only come out on a full moon?”
She shook her head. “Funny stories about the full moon… Under the full moon the walls are the ninth week.”
I frowned at her. What had she just said? She seemed like she’d gone into some kind of trance. “Granny? What about the walls?”
She snapped back and her green eyes locked onto mine. “Oh, nothing.”
“It sounded like something. You were saying something about the full moon and the ninth week.”
“It jogged my memory of something that had been important long ago. Now, if the Alpha was still alive I’d tell you all about the wolf in the ninth week.”
“What does it mean?”
“Forget it. You’ll never have to know.”
“That was heroic of you killing the Alpha. Were you scared?” I figured I should flatter her since I’d laughed at her before. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Granny’s feelings.
“Great chapel!” She stared back at the bottle of the dead shifter’s remains.
“What is it?” I was worried she’d seen something different, like the water I’d filled it with.
She looked back at me. “Nothing, dear.”
Something was going on with Granny. She was normally so switched on and vibrant and now she was acting all weird and vague. “Are you all right?”
Whipping her head back around to stare at me, she asked, “Why are you asking all these things?”
“I told you why before. Now, tell me some other things.” I pointed to another jar to throw her off the trail. “What’s in that one?”
While she told me about magnetic sand and how useful it was, I grew more concerned than ever about whether any of what she’d said was true. If it was, the remains of a shifter had contaminated me. Did that mean I’d changed into a—a werewolf of all things? That would explain the blackout I’d had the night before. Did I change into a wolf—a shifter? I’d woken up naked. I’d had a craving for meat since I’d spilled the bottle, too. It probably had nothing to do with it, but I had also turned off Don. I shook my head at the silliness of it all. But still, just to be sure, I asked, “Granny, I thought you had to get bitten by one of these shifter wolves to become one.”
“Yes, that would do it too. Blood has to pass from a shifter wolf to a human— blood or other secretions.” While staring at me she raised a thin eyebrow to make her point.
Trying to get my mind off the ‘other secretions’ and what they might be, I looked down at the cut in my hand caused by the chip on the side of the glass jar. If it was all true, I’d been infected. Was I a shifter? Could I become one even if I didn’t believe in their existence?
“Destiny.”
I looked up at Granny and dropped my hands to my sides. “Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“Ahuh. I’m a little faint, though. Would you mind if I make myself a sandwich? I’ve got an appointment later today and it’s too far to go back home first.”
“I’ll fix you a nice ham and tomato sandwich.”
“Perfect.”
“That’s enough lessons for one day.”
I followed Granny back to the kitchen.
Chapter 8
I didn’t get away from Granny’s for another two hours. I cautioned my grandmother not to tell my mother or my aunt I was asking questions about magic and she assured me she wouldn’t.
Thanks to a fast taxi driver, I arrived at my two o’clock appointment a little early. After I had paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk, I looked up at the building and yes, it was a perfect place to spend a lot of money on a loft conversion.
I wondered how much work needed to be done on the place. Had it been partly renovated already? There were pros and cons for either scenario. Sometimes if it was partially renovated, it was much easier to work on. In other cases, all the work that had been done had to be undone. Diana had said it was on the second floor. Seeing no security, I pushed the door open and made my way to the second floor.
When I got there, I saw a partially open door. “Hello?” I pushed it slightly when I heard no reply and walked inside to look around. The place hadn’t been renovated and was in original condition.
I jumped when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I swung around and swallowed hard. It was the gorgeous Jacques Hunter. I found my voice. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled. “This is my place.” He walked past me and closed the door.
“You’re Mr. Jones?”
“I am.”
I frowned at him.
“I didn’t think you’d come if I said who I was. I don’t think Don would’ve allowed you to come either.”
I bit my lip when he mentioned Don. He hadn’t been pleased I was talking to his boss last night, so I knew he’d be furious I’d been alone in an apartment with him. “I don’t remember telling you what I did for a living.” Although I could’ve—there was a lot I didn’t remember about last night.
“I Googled you.”
“You stalked me?”
“It sounds terrible when you put it like that. I saw someone I wanted to get to know better, and that was the logical way to find out more about you.”
I could feel my face flush with heat.
“You can come further in. I’m not going to attack you. Not until I know you better, anyway.”
I gave a little laugh and then tried to hide the fact I was delighted about a man like him making suggestive comments. “You realize I’m engaged, don’t you? That’s what last night was about.”
He chuckled and then looked right into my eyes. “You can’t deny there was something between us last night. Hopefully, there still is.”
“There was nothing between us,” I protested, still flattered but now getting a little scared. I took a step back, wondering whether I should leave now before something happened. “Why am I here? I thought I was here to look at an apartment to redecorate.”
He stepped into the middle of the room and with his arms above his head turned in a full circle. “And here it is, ready for you to work your magic.”
He could’ve chosen better words—I’d had enough of magic for a while. I took a look at the space. The height of the ceiling was incredible and it had great lighting thanks to a wall of high windows. “It’s a blank canvas.” That was my polite way of saying it was going to cost him a lot of money. I was glad he’d called Diana to make the appointment. My jobs had been few and far between, and I really needed this one.
“I love it. It’s in a great location, and it’s spacious,” he said.
Only because there are no walls, I wanted to point out. “You like open plan?”
“I do. You can see from the floor it used to be an artist’s studio.”
I stared at the paint-splattered floor. “Interesting effect. Was it Jackson Pollock’s studio?”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s the look I want. Modern and edgy.”
I nodded, then saw a doorway halfway down the room. Pointing to the door, I asked, “Bathroom, kitchen?”
“I’ll show you.” He led the way.
Behind the wall was a small kitchen space consisting of a sink and some cupboards. No cooking facilities, but at least the plumbing was in the right place if they were to put the kitchen there. I banged on the dividing wall. “I’d have to check, but we could knock this down, open
it up. That is if you’d like an open kitchen as well.”
“Yes, and I like stainless steel. Everything steel and glass. Hardened glass countertops.”
I turned to my left and saw another door. When I pushed the door open, I saw a small bathroom. “This won’t do. This will have to be moved somewhere else.”
“I trust your judgment. I’ll give you the number of the building co-op.”
Did that mean I had the job? “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything without the proper approvals.”
“Good to know.” He walked back to the center of the loft. “Now, where do you think the bedroom should be?”
“How many are you thinking?”
“I only need one.”
“Oh.”
“How many do you think I’d need?”
“Usually people have four, three at a minimum—for resale purposes.”
“Smart. That’s why I called you.”
I couldn’t stop the smile that was tugging at my lips.
“As I confessed before, I Googled you last night, after you ran away from your own party and saw your—”
My jaw dropped open. “You were still there?”
He smiled and didn’t answer me. “I looked at the pictures on your website, and I was impressed. You’re a talented designer, and this place needs your touch.”
My skin tingled when he said the word ‘touch.’ I couldn’t deny there was something between us, just like he’d said.
I cleared my throat. Get the conversation back to business. “How long have you had this place?”
“It’s a recent acquisition.”
“And you intend to live here?”
“I could. I live all over the place—partly here, partly there. My business takes me to a lot of different locations.”
“I only ask because I need to know what you’re going to use the place for. Are you going to do a lot of work while you’re here, use it for entertaining—that’s the sort of thing I’ll need to know.”
