Especially as several werewolf clans were in attendance. Hoo Boy, do those wolves know how to show a siren a good time.
I’ve never been invited to the Creature Feature Ball.
“I’m fairy, sugar,” Désirée Norma-Sue said. She twirled on one booted heel to display her back. A slight twitch of her shoulders had two beautiful, glittering, diaphanous wings emerging from discreet folds in her tank top.
Wow.
“I’m sorry if I insulted you. We don’t have a lot of fairies around here.” Their wings freeze in the winter.
I could not take my eyes off those wings. They were just stunning.
“That’s all right, sugar. I’m used to it.” She pronounced ‘I’m’ like it had two syllables. Ah em. “I’ve just moved here from Louisiana.”
I’d heard of a band of fairies living in the swamps of Louisiana, but I’d never expected to meet one.
Damn. I liked her. I liked her style too. Judging by the reaction our skin had when we shook hands, we could easily become good friends. I have never taken friendship of any sort lightly. But if she had just moved here, she didn’t know who I was.
I took a step back. Braced myself. “You probably don’t know about me,” I began.
“Oh, honey, I heard all about you the first day I got to town.” She fluttered her hand around. “If you’re talkin’ about that half breed stuff, you might as well be talkin’ to a deaf fairy at a tractor pull. I like to make up my own mind about things.”
Prepared as I was for the usual rejection, it took a minute for her words to sink in. Stunned, I mumbled a truth spell.
Désirée Norma-Sue wasn’t lying.
“Let’s go into my office.” I whirled around before she could get a good look at my expression. I blinked rapidly.
Rejection, disdain and outright snubbing I’m used to. I can handle that. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with acceptance.
The fairy followed me as we crossed the room.
I have two offices and a small reception area with a desk and two scarlet upholstered chairs. One office is for the humans, the other is for the humanly-challenged. I brought her into my HC office.
My mother’s antique desk held court opposite the door. The wood had tarnished over time to a lovely walnut. Scratches and deep grooves marred the top. It’s my favorite piece.
In front of the desk, I’d placed two red silk, wing chairs adorned with various ebony spell symbols for truth, love and money. The same chairs are in the office for humans. They work much better on the humans, but I take any advantage I can get.
A small table sat in between the chairs. A tall flowering Adam and Eve’s Orchid with rose tipped edges stood on the table.
I’d doused the walls in a rich Cabernet. Behind my desk hung two paintings depicting Greek and Norse history. Humans would call them paintings of mythology.
Black and white pictures photographed by my Aunt lined one wall. Two Gryphons, gargoyles holding hands, a pack of werewolves, a Wiccan gathering and a fairy wedding were all displayed.
Mythology to some. Reality to others.
On the opposite wall I’d painted the symbol for my coven in a rich, shimmery gold. The True Lover’s knot. I know. I know. Total irony. It makes me cackle too.
Mwah, mwah, mwah.
A tall cabinet against one wall housed a small TV, office supplies, spell herbs and my tea bags.
The office for humans pretty much mirrors this one, but with pictures and photos of humans in love and sans the True Lover’s Knot.
I stepped over a box on my way to my desk. I’d just recently re-located. My previous office held the same layout and decor plus about five hundred more square feet. It had also been in a slightly better location.
I know. I know. There’s that bit about location, location, location.
Business is business though and since a great deal of mine is done away from my office after the clients meet, I don’t have to worry over much about location. Besides, the rent was significantly lower here and I now had flower boxes with purple petunias in my windows.
With the move and the improved rent, I could finally afford a receptionist. My answering machine just wasn’t cutting it anymore.
Which brought me right back around to Désirée Norma-Sue. First Bigfoot and now a real redneck fairy. Life is just full of surprises.
I sat behind my desk. Désirée Norma-Sue dropped a large orange and rhinestone purse into one wing chair and pulled the other one forward until she was right in front of my desk.
“How did you hear about the job?” I’d mentioned it to Ash, Morgan and my Aunt and I’d put a flyer up at Got Fangs? last week.
Got Fangs? is a local bar frequented by both humans and the HC. The humans think it is a weird Goth hang out where they get to dress up and live on the edge. The HC use it as a place to relax, not worry about their horns or fur and have a drink.
It’s my favorite watering hole.
“I saw your flyer at Got Fangs? and Terry mentioned I should look you up. She thought we’d make a great team.”
Terry is part owner of Got Fangs? and an immortal witch. She is also one of the very, very few witches who don’t hold my mortality against me.
As a witch, she’d know if Désirée Norma-Sue and I would in fact hit it off. Terry must really like the fairy to recommend her.
“Why did you move to Idaho?” In general, fairies don’t like the cold. It takes a great deal of magic to unfreeze their wings.
“I needed a change and after I moved to Idaho I heard good things about Dominion, so I decided to check it out. And here I am.”
Our town of Dominion has a great reputation with the HC. Surrounded on three sides by rugged mountains, including the Teton mountain range, there are plenty of National Parks and wilderness areas for hunting. The human population is still rather sparse and people get lost or eaten by bears on a regular enough basis that the occasional devouring by something else isn’t noticed.
I like it a lot myself, but I knew there was more to it. Désirée Norma-Sue was hiding something. It was in her brown eyes as she glanced away.
I’ve done desperate enough to know.
I whispered a quick spell. Whatever it was, it wasn’t an immediate threat.
That was good enough for me.
I’d go through the motions of asking about her qualifications and experience, but I already knew I’d hire her.
I’d known it from the moment she told me she’d heard about my mortality and she didn’t plan to hold it against me.
Acceptance is a rare thing for me.
****
The phone rang about fifteen minutes after Désirée Norma-Sue left. We agreed she’d start Monday morning, what her pay rate would be and on the dress code. Which is fairly lax.
However, given the size of her shorts, a fairy’s penchant for going au naturel and my recent fascination with certain redneck reality shows, I thought I should address the subject before it came up.
Clothes had to be worn at all times and should cover the most intimate body parts. For a fairy that included the wings. I explained we serviced both the humans as well as the HC.
My exact words were more like “both mortals and immortals.” Humanly-challenged is my own private joke. The immortals have a rather dour view on all things human. I did get the impression Désirée Norma-Sue might have the same slightly twisted sense of humor as I do, but I didn’t want to test that theory just yet. Or insult my brand new employee.
I snatched up the receiver. I’d been waiting for her to call all day. “Did you find anything?”
Aunt Tabs sighed. “No. I didn’t find anything.” She sighed again. I understood. Aunt Tabs is a strong witch. She’s had to be, but sorting through the the physical leftovers of my mother’s life - her twin sister - there are just things you never want to have to do.
I haven’t gone into my Aunt’s garage since the funeral.
“I went through every box. I know she’d been working on the curse fo
r several months before . . .” Her breath hitched. She paused for a moment. “But I couldn’t find a single note.”
“Oh.” Something stronger seemed more appropriate. I just didn’t have it in me. We were talking about my mom.
“I did find a couple things you should see. She kept a book of you. Baby photos. Camping trips. Your first Wiccan ceremony.” She made a sound - half sob/half-laugh. “Sweet Spirits, you should see the look on your face at your first gymnastic competition.”
I could imagine. I’d been on the Broomstick Gymnastic team for a couple years. I’d been terrible.
And still, mom had taken pictures and saved them in a book for me.
“I . . .” I coughed, swallowed the lump in my throat. And the three after that one. “I’ll look at it later.” Maybe in a hundred years I wouldn’t feel as if someone was stabbing me whenever I thought about my mom.
“Sweetheart.”
I held my breath. I didn’t want to fight with my aunt. After going through all of those memories, she had to be feeling vulnerable and shaky too.
I wasn’t ready. I have no idea know when I would be ready. I simply knew it wasn’t now.
“All right. I won’t push.” I could breath again. “On that. But I also found Sam’s Spell Book. I want you to take it.”
I froze. The door to all my nightmares creaked alarmingly. Usually, I managed to keep that door locked tight.
A witch’s Book of Spells is her most sacred object. It’s a rite of passage when you receive your book. It’s also a witch’s vulnerable spot when it comes to magic. As most witches - our coven aside - are immortal, these books are kept in a secret location known only to the owner.
On the extremely rare occasion when a witch died, her Spell Book was passed down to her closest relative.
Me.
With our background and exclusion from the majority of the Wiccans, we have always been a bit lax with certain customs. It shook me right down to the tips of my boots that my aunt wanted me to take part of this one.
My mother had given me her desk when I was a child. I could deal with that. I could even treasure it. This would be the first thing of hers I had received after her death.
When she’d died, we’d simply boxed everything up, put the boxes in the garage and shut the door. Then tried to limp along as if things were somehow going to be all right.
She’s been gone for seven years now and I still try to deny it.
“Ah, I don’t . . .” The gasp was slight, barely a whisper of a whisper, but I heard it. Damn the Ruby Slippers. If I refused, it would crush my aunt. My only living relative.
I gritted my teeth. “I’ll pick it up when I grab Al, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you, Kate.”
I pretended not to hear the tears in her voice and switched subjects. “How did Bigfoot do today?”
I’d cast another healing and sleeping spell before I’d left this morning. As well as an odor control one. The spell from the night before was still working, but I did not want to chance that one at all.
My entire olfactory system was still recovering.
“Great. I checked on him. Her. It. We really should find out what sex it is.”
“I know. I just don’t feel comfortable pawing through all that fur. Especially while it’s asleep.”
Aunt Tabitha sighed. “I know what you mean, but it just doesn’t seem right, calling it an it.”
That kind of ruffled the fur along my neck too.
“Once it wakes up, we can try to ask it.” I offered.
“IT SPEAKS?”
Whoops. Guess I forgot to mention a few things during the chaos of last night.
“No. Actually, it didn’t talk to me. But it did seem to understand what I was saying.” I paused. “And it flipped me off.”
“Bigfoot flipped you off?”
I tried. Really I did. I just couldn’t help it. It started as a snicker then erupted into a full on belly laugh, complete with snorts. I could hear Aunt Tabs giggling like a maniac on her end of the phone.
There are just moments when words escape you. And laughter heals the wounds.
8. Not Again.
We arrived home just before five. Aunt Tabs had wrapped the Spell Book in a purple scarf as if she had known I wouldn’t be able to face it right away. She probably did know. She’s no dummy.
I let us into the apartment. Al trotted down the hall to the kitchen. I peeked in on Bigfoot. Sound asleep. Its breathing appeared to be more rhythmic and not as shallow. The odor was manageable.
I set the book on my desk. Rubbed the silky material of the scarf. Fingered an edge.
I wasn’t ready.
I cast a concealing spell, left my office and joined Al in the kitchen. He sat on his furry butt in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring at my counter tops.
He frowned up at me. “Where’s dinner?”
I glanced at my counters too. Usually at this time in our evening they held the white Styrofoam boxes of our dinner.
I do not cook.
Even my cauldron spells have been known to cause allergic reactions in innocent bystanders. Sometimes permanent. That’s why I use my wand.
That and the fact Aunt Tabs had confiscated my cauldron after the last incident.
“Well, frog warts.” I wasn’t terribly surprised. I’d had a lot on my mind, but this could put a huge dent in my primping time for my date with Ash. “I left dinner at my office.”
Al’s little tummy rumbled. He grunted, “Let’s go get it.”
Never mess with a true Italian mafia hit man and his food. Big Al takes his meatballs very seriously. I grabbed my purse and we headed back out.
It takes about forty seconds longer to drive to my new office than it did my old one. Dominion is a VERY small town. Seven minutes later we arrived at Love Required.
I dispersed my protection spell and unlocked the door. The manicotti and spaghetti and meatballs were on the desk in the waiting room.
I’d taken two steps toward them, when Al began to growl. I gathered my magic and sent it out, but I couldn’t perceive anything dangerous. No assassins waited in one of my offices.
I reached into my purse and pulled out my wand. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t question his Chihuahua senses.
“Blood. I smell blood.” Al tilted his nose higher into the air. He sniffed, deep angry snarls vibrating from his throat all the while. “It’s coming from your human office.” He started forward. “Stay behind me.”
I followed, my wand - where he couldn’t see it and take manly offense - well above his head and at the ready.
I flicked on the light as we entered the office. Nothing appeared out of place. No smears of red anywhere I could see.
Al moved to the door in the corner leading to the alley. The hair on his neck ruffled, ears twitched and tail quivered. “Outside.”
He planted his body in front of the seam to the door. “Open it slowly and stay back.”
I sent out more magic. Scanning the alleyway, behind trashcans and into every box and bottle in residence within five hundred feet.
I still couldn’t feel anything harmful. But I’ve learned the hard way there are some creatures that are immune to my magic.
I whispered the strongest protection spell I could think of, gripped my wand until my knuckles shone white, prepared to do the fastest Chihuahua snatch and grab I could manage, and unlocked the back door.
Al had his nose in the crack the moment I eased open the door. I knew if I pulled too slowly he’d squeeze his tiny frame through the opening and be outside - all alone - before I could stop him.
I flung the door open with such force I had to stop it with my elbow so it wouldn’t slam shut on the rebound.
“Al, Stop!” I screamed. He skittered to an immediate halt. Sadly, it had nothing to do with my non-existent dog training skills and more to do with the body lying on the concrete.
“Don’t come out here until I’ve checked out the body.” Al looked up at me. “Oka
y?”
“Sure, Al.” I didn’t mind. I could tell the body was already dead. The blue and white flag piercing the neck and the unnatural stiffness screamed “totally dead and not coming back” to me.
That and I needed a moment.
I gripped the edge of the door and concentrated on breathing while my mind whirled. Another dead body. At my back door. Again.
Why me? may not have been the most sympathetic response, but I could not dredge up much else.
I am a nice witch. Really I am. I am also heartily sick of dead bodies appearing at my back door.
I’d thought the new office would be a refreshing start. New digs, fresh paint and no memories of murder scenes. Now I could kiss that plan goodbye.
Should I be a little more concerned? Horrified? Freaked out? At the very least curious? Maybe. But follow me here, I’d just come off a similar experience a few weeks back. One in which I’d almost lost my own life. Not to mention my UDBF’s life.
Un-Dead Best Friend. Morgan.
If we had died, I KNOW that psycho vampire assassin would have gone after my aunt and Big Al.
I still have the occasional nightmare.
My dead-body-discovery-emotional-response quotient had been all used up for the month.
“He’s dead. Human and dead.” Al sat down on the opposite side of the body. He looked at me over a shirt and jacket that looked vaguely familiar. “I’d say he was killed about four hours ago.”
I took his hit man word for it.
“I was here four hours ago. He couldn’t have been killed here.” I would have heard the scream for sure. Plus the blood pooled underneath the body seemed way too small for the large wound in the neck.
Someone had dumped a body at my back door. Again. Damn it all.
And a human one at that. Not good. There are laws when it comes to killing humans. Laws and concrete cells.
I shivered.
Did I have some sort of dead body attraction curse in addition to the other one? I . . . That shirt and jacket looked more and more familiar by the minute. I didn’t know anyone who dressed as if they had just stepped out of an Eddie Bauer magazine.
Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1) Page 5
