“Huh…” he stared down at the buxom beauties. And wondered. His wolf senses tingled, warning distrust. But they were just innocent mermaids in need of his help. This was part of his job as protector of The Demon Isle.
Still… he did have a bit of a reputation in the supernatural community… it was a well known fact Charlie Howard preferred curvy gals.
But would they actually use this against him? Was this some kind of trick? A distraction? It would be a pleasant one…
Shit. Charlie…
Shake This. The hell. Off.
Stupid ass paranoid wolf needs to shut up and let me help these lasses free their sister. It kind of sucked that the ring didn’t rein in the wolf paranoia. He still had so much to learn about the limitations of his new gift.
He shook himself to get back in the moment. “Okay, ladies, if we are going to be traipsing around the Isle in broad daylight, I am afraid we’re going to have to find you some clothes.”
They stepped back looking down at their bodies and back up at Charlie.
“Don’t like clothes,” one of them pouted.
“No. Don’t like,” the other echoed.
“Hard to wear,” they chimed together.
“Scratchy. Pully. Tight,” the second scowled.
The first one shook her head in agreement.
I can’t believe I’m arguing with mermaids to put clothes on… “Like them or not, ladies, humans wear clothing. So you’re just going to have to, for today. Give me a minute and I’ll find something from my sister's closet for you. Just… wait right here.” He ran inside the house.
When he came back out a few minutes later, he stopped, gawking wordlessly; the merladies were frolicking through a sprinkler that had just turned on in the garden. His head did a momentary line of bounces, watching them bob up and down in playful delight. “Yeah,” he groaned in strained tones. “This is like my own personal heaven, and hell.” Since there was no salt in the water, their human legs remained. Only saltwater from the ocean transformed their legs into flippers.
Charlie could not deny the merladies were built just to his liking. To a dangerously distracting degree. His eyes pinched in suspicion again. The wolf would not relent. It twitched just under his skin as if trying to warn him something was off.
And just because it was a known fact he preferred curvy women, didn’t mean they’d use this against him. Watching them bounce around, he couldn’t imagine why any woman would want to be stick thin with bones sticking out…
“Stupid media,” he blamed vaguely. “Ruins far too many perfectly beautiful women.” On this subject, he and his wolf agreed.
He shook off the nagging apprehension and approached, holding up a couple of dresses. “Ladies,” he called out, regaining their attention. “My sister won’t mind if you borrow these, she was getting rid of them anyway.”
They danced forward, grabbing the dresses. Charlie averted his gaze, but couldn’t suppress a laugh while listening to them attempting to dress themselves.
“Please to help?” one of them requested a minute later.
“Oh, um. Yeah. Turn around. Just needs to be zipped up.” His hand brushed against her skin as he finished. She twisted around, grasping it in her own, stroking it seductively.
“Such strong hands.” She licked her lips. “Good for saving sister.” Her long blue locks shifted in the breeze, enthralling Charlie. “What a shiny ring,” she cooed softly, attention again on the Guardian ring on his finger.
“Yes, shiny,” repeated Charlie, absentmindedly. She lifted his hand, kissing it gently. It left a pleasant sort of numbness that crept up his arm.
The sister mermaid skipped over to them, bringing them both back into reality.
“We go now, to sister,” she spoke.
Charlie squinted his eyes, the strange haze lifting.
He suppressed a laugh when he saw the mermaid’s dress was on backwards as well as inside out. “Good enough I guess. Yes, let’s go save your sister now. Please, ladies, you lead the way.”
##
Melinda tried to pace herself as she edged closer to the Wicked Muddy Café where she was to meet Riley. She did not want to appear too eager, but when he came into view, her grin would not obey her, widening happily. He was parking his motorcycle down the street from the café.
He came! He really came… she realized she’d been thinking he might not. She had worried that somehow he would find out that the locals thought of her as the town freak, and decide to dump her before they’d even had a real date.
“Hi,” Riley called out, as she approached. “I hope you don’t mind, but I changed our plans.” His eyes danced with mysterious anticipation.
“Okay,” was all Melinda managed to reply. She had completely lost her breath upon seeing him. He leaned in a stole a quick kiss, pulling away much faster than Melinda would have preferred. He winked, seeing the pout on her face.
“I’m saving the good stuff for later.”
How Melinda had questioned if he was right for her, or let her feelings for William make her doubt, she had no idea.
He nodded to the back of his motorcycle. There was a picnic basket tied down to the top of the saddlebag. “I found the perfect spot,” he claimed. “I can’t wait to show it to you.”
Melinda was not hungry, at least not for food. She tugged at her lip and looked down at her dress. “Didn’t prepare for a motorcycle ride. I wasn’t even thinking when I got dressed.” Yeah, this dress was the worst choice, ever!
“No, it’s perfect. You look…” his gaze shouted scrumptious, but aloud he said, “gorgeous. Even more beautiful than I remembered you in my mind.”
“You were thinking about me?”
“Pretty much nonstop. You’re sort of hard not to think about.” He grinned, his eyes dancing to her reaction to this news.
It was all she could do to stop herself from running her hands all over him. “Okay. Let’s go. I want to see this perfect spot you found.” She straddled the bike and tucked the dress under her thighs to keep it from blowing up and revealing everything underneath to any passerby.
Melinda caught the eye of an elderly local man driving by, staring at her. His eyes cried out a mixture of hatred and betrayal, rather than the usual, there’s that weird Howard girl… “What’s his problem?” she mumbled under her breath.
“What’s that?” asked Riley.
“Nothing.”
She wrapped her arms around him. With her body pressed against his, safety and contentment filled her up. But he was wearing far too much leather, and she wanted skin. She daringly ran her hands underneath the edge of his jacket, finding his shirt and wrapped her hands together across his stomach.
Melinda heard him let out a frustrated moan and made to release her hands. He stopped her, turning his head with a look of delight in his eyes. “You have no idea how much I love that.”
Any doubt Melinda felt, vanished completely.
Riley was the perfect man for her.
CHAPTER THREE
Michael pulled the jeep into the Jordan’s driveway. After parking, he hopped out and raced to open the passenger door for Emily, assisting her out of the jeep. He felt a sense of warmth emanating from her over this simple act. He pretended not to, for her sake.
She knew he did and just rolled her eyes. But holding back was impossible. She loved him. Her emotions would show this. And she didn’t want to rein it in. Still, it was sort of unfair that he always knew. And yet they’d always managed before now.
“You read me like an open book,” Michael surprised her by saying.
“Can you read minds now, too?” she jested.
He shook his head. “I just know you as well as you know me. And you’ve always known what I was feeling without the need for a magical ability. I think that’s part of the reason I love you so much.”
She stole a quick kiss. One neither wanted to end so quickly. But they heard the slamming of a screen door and looked to see Anthony Jordan just outside
the front of his house.
“I’m so gonna finish that kiss later.” His tone held sinful promises.
The emotion Emily sank into, almost gave Michael no choice but to cancel lunch, and steal her away.
She chuckled. “Maybe this can be more fun than I thought.”
“Tease.” He spanked her ass playfully as she stepped by him. She gave a little gasp and spun around.
“Will you promise a little more of that later, too?” She didn’t wait to see his response.
Michael held his breath, afraid to let it out. This was his Emily, right? He’d never seen this side of her. He stepped around the jeep, catching up.
Eva’s father met them at the bottom of his steps. His hair was stark white, same as his daughter's, except for a few silver whiskers across his chin.
“Michael Howard, I presume,” Anthony spoke vigorously. He held out his hand to shake Michael’s. “Pleasure indeed to meet a witch. Pleasure indeed!”
“Yes, nice to meet you as well,” returned Michael, taking his hand. “Hope you don’t mind, this is my girlfriend, Emily. She runs, Harboring the Book.” He kept secret that she was also a spirit vessel, capable of allowing ghosts to inhabit her body.
“Nice to meet you,” greeted Emily.
Mr. Jordan took hold of Emily’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand elegantly. “Delighted, my dear, delighted.”
Emily's face went slightly flush as Mr. Jordan gently dropped her hand.
“We are to have a lovely lunch out on the pier.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Emily offered.
Anthony smiled and said no. “My Eva set up everything before she departed this morning.”
“So she’s not here?” Emily confirmed.
“Off on some day hike in the park,” he answered.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to meet her. Oh well, next time.”
“We have all summer,” noted Mr. Jordan, his voice hopeful that they would meet again. “Follow me if you will.” He led them across the road, down a short path, which opened up to a private pier and beach. Near the end of the pier was a round table with four chairs. He pulled back a chair for Emily.
“Thank you,” she replied taking a seat. Michael sat next to her with Mr. Jordan across from them.
After helping themselves to iced tea and finger sandwiches, as well as a few minutes taking in the spacious view, Michael started the conversation.
“I have to tell you, Mr. Jordan, that I have read your book cover to cover.”
“Really? Well then, my young sir, it is an honor to have a witch, especially one of your caliber and notoriety, read my work. Let me ask, has the information in the book ever proven useful?”
“Actually, yes. On numerous occasions. The information in your book is quite thorough.”
“Splendid!” he retorted. “What a delight. To know my research has helped in some way.”
“If it's not too much to ask, Mr. Jordan, how did you discover the existence of the supernatural and the paranormal? From what I understand, you’re not descended from a magical line.”
“Ah, yes, it is a simple story really. And you’re right, no magical blood ties whatsoever. My family, we’re just regular humans.” He winked and continued. “When I was a young boy, we lived in a very old house and there were a few... extra residents... if you get my drift.”
“Ghosts?” confirmed Emily.
“Yes. Ghosts. I found them fascinating. And like some young children, I was able to see them. Let's just say I had many imaginary friends. My curiosity never waned though, and I spent my teen years enveloped in research, delving deeper and deeper into the supernatural world. There came a point however during those years that I stopped seeing the ghosts, but unlike most other youngsters, I did not forget. No siree, I did not forget.” He paused, shifting his body so that he was leaning in closer.
“I don’t know to this day, why I did not forget, but even though I no longer see those ghosts, I have never stopped believing they are still amongst us.”
Emily coughed, catching herself. She knew they were still amongst us, seeing as one had possessed her body just days earlier.
Mr. Jordan continued. “That said, it has certainly not been easy, a mere human traipsing in a normally secretive, private world. But I will, until my final breath, find the supernatural and paranormal world intriguing as there is always something new around the corner yet to be discovered.”
He stopped and took a sip of his tea.
“That may seem like a simple story, Mr. Jordan,” said Emily, “But also quite extraordinary.”
“Indeed, indeed.” He held a pensive look in his eye, focused on Michael. “I am supposing you are curious as to why I am here, on The Demon Isle?”
Michael threw a modest shrug in Mr. Jordan's direction. “Can't say the subject didn't cross my mind. I wouldn't be doing my job if it didn't.”
“As well you should! I am discovering your family is legendary on this Isle. I am sure you feel a strong duty to this island.”
Michael did not respond. He had only recently decided to stay on the Isle, after adamantly arguing it was not the Howard's responsibility to protect it anymore. Mr. Jordan’s statement hung in his mind too. Was he researching the Howard family? What exactly was his purpose on the Isle?
Mr. Jordan continued. “My time here is purely for research purposes. There are many indigenous plants on this Isle that are well known in many magical communities, outside of the Isle. There is an ongoing debate that plants grown here on the Isle are more potent than their counterparts grown elsewhere, plus, like most aware of the supernatural side of the island I am aware of the mystical power source that strengthens the Isle. I am hoping to discover whether the plants medicinal qualities are enhanced by this source. Purely for research,” he clarified again. “Curiosity always gets the better of me.”
“Do you think that it's possible?” The idea intrigued Emily. “I've never even thought about how the power source might affect things like local plant life.”
Michael secretly wondered if plant research was all Mr. Jordan was actually researching. He allowed his empathic ability to stretch out and surround Mr. Jordan, but was relieved to get nothing but thrilled excitement over their conversation.
“The one thing I have learned over the years, dear Emily, is that anything is possible. However, I think my research will prove difficult, as my only measure is comparing the same plant families and their compounds from versions off the Isle, versus the same growing on the Isle. There are many factors that could change these outcomes, however, including things like climate and growth cycles, not just magical power sources.”
“I don't know as I can be much help,” started Michael, more confident after not sensing anything sinister. “But I can at least tell you, that even though we have no idea where the source is located, or what fuels this power source, it is not why we are magical. Our family were witches long before we came to this Isle and while we are protectors of the source, and the Isle, it is not the reason we are witches. The Isle's power source does not power us. It is possible to tap into the magic, which is why, unfortunately, malevolent forces incessantly make appearances on the Isle,” he explained.
Mr. Jordan leaned back in his chair, deep in thought over what Michael had said.
“That detail may not seem like much to you,” he said after a while, “but to me it is priceless. If the source does not create your abilities, but can be tapped into, this changes everything! Do the plants on this Isle tap into the power, making them stronger specimen? This could change the course of my research completely! Brilliant!” he concluded.
“Glad to help.” Michael reached out again with his empathic abilities, and again, getting nothing but gratified delight.
Nothing else. Almost like his mind was stuck in one emotion, playing it over and over again. Normally, with others, there were many emotions all at once, with one or two prominent emotions depending o
n how a person was feeling at the time. Like right now, Emily was happy. However sided with that happy, was a smaller amount of restlessness and a tiny bit of guilt. Probably over canceling lunch with her father. The restlessness, he was certain of the reason for that. Something he hoped to fix later when they were finally alone again.
It was a rarity that someone felt just one emotion, all the time. Mr. Jordan’s ran almost as if it were a feelings track, that played over and over.
Like Charlie with Eva, Michael could not help but develop an odd sense of distrust in the back of his mind. Something felt off. He decided that he had given Mr. Jordan enough information and hoped that he had noted the gentle reminder of their job here on the Isle: to protect the Isle and its power source.
Mr. Jordan refilled drinks.
“Thanks,” said Emily.
Anthony winked, setting down the carafe of ice tea. “Now, as interesting as this all is, I’m afraid I will find myself rather distracted for the next few days, if not weeks, with the gift your brother and my daughter left in my laboratory last night.”
“Ah, yes, the dead werewolf,” Michael stated.
“You can have it.” Emily shuddered just thinking about it.
It wasn’t a memory Michael was fond of either. “Have you had a chance to examine it yet?”
“Not really. A general, very shocked, once over.”
Michael grimaced. “Yes, I would imagine finding a dead werewolf in your garage would prove a bit of a shock.”
“Indeed. Indeed. But I am curious, no doubt, to see what mysteries lie beneath the surface. And no fear, if I find anything of value, you’ll be the first to know.”
Michael nodded appreciatively, inwardly wondering if leaving the werewolf in the care of Mr. Jordan had been the right move. Normally, they had other measures to take care of supernatural messes that got left behind.
Emily made a strange noise and Michael heard her asking, “What is that?”
Bye Bye Bloodsucker (Wicked Good Witches Book 3) Page 3
