Love Charms

by Multiple

  “So um, go-” I said forcefully, communicating to him with my eyes. “-and I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Natasha smoothed the front of her shift and addressed me. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “You bet,” I said sarcastically. I walked toward the interrogation room, my back stiff.

  Chapter Six

  Endless Optimism is for Suckers

  I sighed as the gentle breeze caressed my face. It was a welcome break from the sun that hung heavy in the sky, plastering my hair to the back of my neck. My legs moved in rhythm with the tires against the asphalt. It rivaled the thundering of my heart as each rotation pushed me closer to the office.

  My boss, or B as we all called him, was rarely in a good mood. I still hadn’t nailed down what he was exactly – Greek god maybe? He did have a thorough hatred for the mortal world yet took a special delight in sleeping with any woman he came across.

  At any rate, he only dragged himself to our realm for two reasons: interviewing and training supernaturals and ‘special’ humans for positions with NACA, and cleaning up a mess.

  I hopped the curb, skirting into the alley beside the office building. I kicked down the stand and pried off my helmet. I didn’t bother with a ward of protection. In New York I’d be foolish not to, but downtown Raleigh had all the quirks of her big sister and little to none of her hang-ups.

  I walked up the staircase, clutching my purse like a security blanket as I pushed through the entrance. I scanned the lobby with a smile. The mediocrity of the office in the daylight never ceased to amaze me. The walls that hung darkly under the light of the moon were now beige and bland. The metal chairs and table that stood like empty claws in the darkness now seemed flimsy and ordinary. It really was remarkable how the cool quiet of the night and a handful of candles could completely transform a place.

  Naomi Jones, NACA’s secretary, looked up from her tabloid magazine, flashing me a toothy grin. “Hiya Jade.”

  “Naomi,” I mused, giving her a once-over. “Love the new look. Very Angelina Jolie circa Hackers.”

  She ruffled her short, spiky hair, narrowing her round green eyes. “Not too shabby, huh?”

  Two weeks ago, Naomi had ebony skin, with long, soft dreadlocks that spilled past her waist. Now, her skin was pale, her hair crafted into a pixie cut that accentuated her high cheekbones and voluptuous lips. Naomi was a shifter – able to take form of any human she laid her eyes on. It made her age nearly impossible to determine, but I had a feeling she had to be old and disciplined to put up with B’s moods.

  “Naomi!” a baritone voice thundered from the back office. “Where the hell is the contractor?”

  She rolled her eyes, flipping her magazine back open. “Asking every five minutes isn’t going to make them get here any faster!” she hollered back.

  “Maybe I should come back later,” I said nervously, my grip tightening on my helmet.

  “You could come back next week and he will’ve found something new to complain about,” she chuckled. “Better to just get it over and done with.”

  “But I-“

  “Jade’s here!” Naomi shouted, cutting me off. “Go on back, honey.”

  I crept to the back office and knocked gingerly on the door.

  “Come on in,” a gruff voice barked.

  I pushed open the door and gasped in shock. Glass crunched beneath my feet as I surveyed the damage. The desks were overturned, their contents spread all over the floor. There were scorch marks branded into the stained carpet and charred wallpaper hanging precariously from the once pristine walls. B stood beneath a large hole in the ceiling, the sun highlighting a very pissed off look on his face.

  B was built like the ancient ruins of Greece, all reverence, their power unswayed by the test of time. His gray hair hung in soft ringlets around his chiseled features, swirling around his harsh face like a tornado as he whirled around to face me. “Do I ask too much?”

  I swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry?”

  He stepped from beneath the gaping hole and his dark eyes glimmered in the shadows. “Do you remember how you were when I found you?”

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I-”

  “Rhetorical question,” he interrupted. “You were drowning your abilities in a sea of booze and dicks. Your magical talents were rudimentary at best.” He picked up an overturned chair and turned it upright, sighing as he sank into it. “You were putting summoning ads on Craigslist for crissakes. Many wanted you to just be…dealt with.”

  “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, B,” I said, my lip trembling.

  “All of you, ‘necros’-” He dropped the word like it was toxic in his mouth. “I pay you well. Do I not? 500 dollars for an hour of work.”

  I nodded.

  He gestured at the mess. “I just ask that you put aside your innate stupidity and think before you act!” He blew out a steam of air that rattled the walls. “Amateur hour! Summonings are only to be held under the light of the full moon.” He held out his hand and a bottle of water zipped through the air, stopping in his hand. “And then I hear about your little lunch meeting.”

  “Look B-” My words were cut short as he flew across the room quicker than I could say “Holy shit.” With one talon-like finger he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him dead-on.

  “You know what I find pathetically charming about you humans?” he growled, his nostrils flaring.

  “W-wwhat’s that?” I stammered.

  “Your endless optimism,” he said smoothly. He released my chin, brushing past me. “You have every reason to just find the closest .45 and blow your brains out, but you just soldier on thinking everyday might be better. That you control your story.” He stopped at one of the overturned desks and with a flick of his wrist, it stood upright. “You couldn’t be more wrong,” he continued. “Humans only exist because we allow them to. Whether it’s because you taste so deliciously or because you humor us, WE are in charge of your destiny…not the other way around.”

  He turned back to me, crossing his burly arms. “It’s easy to see why you got so cocky, riding off to the save the day, Jade. You’ve got a little special ‘oomph’ that makes you more precious than the average walking ape.” He lowered his voice, his eyes becoming narrow slits. “But make no mistake – if you become more trouble than you’re worth, I’ll smite you myself. Clear?”

  I nodded eagerly. “Crystal. Won’t happen again.”

  “It better fucking not,” he said acidly. He whirled toward the open office door, his fists becoming boulders of rage. “Where the HELL is the contractor?”

  I slid out of the office while I still had my head attached to my shoulders.

  Chapter Seven

  A New Client

  I pushed inside Royal Bean, breathing in the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. For a moment, I wasn’t thanking my lucky stars that B didn’t rip me a new one – I was in Ethiopia, sipping an espresso beneath the burning sun.

  Royal Bean was filled with its usual fare – students from Meredith and State sat huddled over textbooks and frappes, a smattering of businessmen typed away at laptops, and hipsters sipped their fair trade coffee as they read Kafke and Bukowski.

  I slid up to the counter and the barista gave me a friendly nod, reaching for a mug. I didn’t even need to drop my order. She knew it by heart. I swiped my latte and stuffed a couple of dollars in the tip cup before sinking into a couch near the front.

  I tried to relax and de-stress, but I couldn’t get the Kenny situation out of my head. Everything about it was odd – what was the bizarre symbol I saw etched on the wallet? What was the gibberish Kenny spewed before shoving the wallet down his throat? None of it made sense.

  I pulled out my trusty grimoire. To the untrained mortal eye, it looked like an old spiral notebook that had seen better days. But it was so much more – it contained a wealth of magical knowledge. From how to purify an area for spellwork to a dictionary of virtually every supernatural creature that
had a name, it was my own little Google that had saved my ass more than once.

  I flipped to the back, scanning the yellowed pages for the symbol I saw in Kenny’s wallet before he went bananas. I eyeballed the quick sketch I did from memory at the police station. From what I gathered from the second I glimpsed the thing before Kenny snatched it away, the symbol was two circles, one inside the other. Lines shot from the inner circle outward, like spokes on a bicycle. It didn’t give me much to go on and according to my research, no such symbol even existed.

  I ran an exhausted hand through my hair and massaged my temples. B hadn’t exactly said to stop digging, right? Hell, if I could figure out what happened, I’d save him the trouble. I sipped my latte, still mulling the situation over in my head, when a heated discussion at the counter caught my attention.

  “…ma’am, if you could lower your voice-” the barista said through clenched teeth.

  “I will NOT be quiet!” the woman said, slamming her fist on the counter. She looked like she’d gone to hell and back. Her fiery red hair looked oily and misshapen, falling around her blotchy face in knots and tangles. Her blue eyes were wild and swollen, like she’d spent every waking hour sobbing. Her voice was authoritative, but the way her hands shook told me that she was doing all she could to keep it together. “I gave you a twenty, and I demand you give me correct change!”

  “No, ma’am, you gave me a five, and that still leaves a balance of-”

  “Twenty!” the woman shrieked, her voice drawing the eyes of all of the customers. “I gave you a twenty and I want my change!”

  The barista sniffed, her jaw set. I had a feeling this wasn’t her first unruly customer. “If you want to speak to a manager-”

  “Fuck you,” the woman said acidly, knocking over the paper cup in anger. “Keep it.” She stalked from the counter but swung her purse too hard, spilling the contents all over the floor. Most of the customers watched her, fearful that if they attempted to help she’d lash out at them as well.

  I let out a sigh and pulled myself off the couch, squatting down to help her. My hand grazed a bottle of lotion, but she snatched it away from me, stuffing it back where it belonged.

  “I don’t need your help,” she spat, eyeing me defiantly.

  “No problem,” I said, holding out my hands in defense. That’s what I get for trying to be nice. I rose to my feet and gasped. Right above a turquoise Swatch, her pale skin was branded, a black handprint seared into her flesh. It was the touch of the dead.

  I hesitated. The last time I tried to help out someone with a ghost problem, they ended up six feet under. But as the woman kept swiping angrily at the floor, tears streaming down her face, I knew the decision was already made. I lowered myself back to my knees, putting my hand over hers.

  “You lost someone, didn’t you?”

  Her pale eyes wet round. “I - how did you know?”

  I stood back up as she put the final items back into her bag, extending my hand. “Why don’t we go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up?”

  She was still a little skeptical, so I whipped out a little disarming spell. In most cases, spellwork that affects the activities of others is frowned upon, but I figured The Watchers had better things to do than babysit me.

  “Ego vilis vos haud vulnero,” I said under my breath. Instantly, she swiped at her runny nose with the back of her hand and nodded, following me toward the bathroom.

  When we pushed inside, I stepped inside a stall and unrolled a ball of tissue. I walked back to the sinks where she stood and offered it to her.

  “Thanks,” she sniffed, wiping her face. “I-I’m Amy, by the way.”

  I gave her a small smile. “Jade.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, turning to the mirror. She shuddered when she saw her reflection. “If Cady could see me now, she’d probably die from fright.” She laughed at first – loud, uncomfortable guffaws that transformed into a series of gut-wrenching sobs.

  I unrolled another handful of tissues. “That’s who you lost? Cady?”

  Amy nodded. “My partner.” She let out a loud sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But she was so much more…she was strong and opinionated and when she smiled-” Her voice broke then and she wrapped her arms tight around her body, like she was remembering every touch, every kiss. “She was everything.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, touching her forearm. I purposefully reached for the area where the ghost had touched her. I was 99.9% sure that the ghost was her lover, but every now and then some creepy ghost liked to piggyback on some poor soul’s grief. This was the only way to be sure.

  As soon as I made contact with the mark, images hit me like a ton of bricks. First was their first kiss – at the drive in. They were both so nervous, the butterflies dancing furiously in their stomachs. Next was when they moved in together – they were painting the living room, Cady admiring how beautiful Amy looked in overalls, with green paint smudged on her cheeks. The last was the birth of their daughter—a searing white-hot pain followed by an all-encompassing love that brought tears to my eyes.

  I pulled away from Amy then, staggering a bit. I’d gotten reads through marks of the dead before, but it was usually just short blips, memories from the ghost that left behind the goo. But nothing was this earth shattering. I’d always heard about love like this, read about it, dreamt about it. It was the most terrifying and beautiful thing I’d ever experienced.

  I looked at Amy with a whole new respect. I felt like I wanted to roll up in a ball and weep until my body was dry. It was the kind of love that most people wished for but never really found.

  It was a love worth dying for, but she had found a quiet strength, something that kept her from joining her soulmate.

  “For Hayden,” I murmured.

  “H-how?” Amy’s eyes widened as she inched away toward the door. “Who are you?”

  I turned to the sink, splashing water on my face. I blotted my face with a paper towel and turned back to her. “I’m someone that can help you.”

  “Help me?” she repeated. “How?”

  “You need to talk to Cady,” I replied. “I can help you communicate with her.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she balled her fists in anger. “You have a lot of nerve-”

  “Your first kiss was at Raleigh Road,” I cut in. “You went to see Drag Me to Hell. You moved to a townhouse near Cameron Village and you would make Cady grilled cheese sandwiches to eat on her way to campus. Two and a half years ago, Cady gave birth to Hayden.”

  She covered her mouth, her eyes filled with fear. “How did you-”

  “Ego vilis vos haud vulnero,” I repeated, sensing that she was seconds from bolting from the room. Her breathing slowed down, her hand dropping from her mouth. “I just want to help, Amy.”

  She nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “How can you help me?”

  I ruffled through my purse and pulled out a business card. “Call this number, ask for Naomi, and tell her that Jade referred you.”

  I pressed the card into her hand as my eyes searched hers. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  I turned and pushed out of the bathroom and embraced the smile that played at the corner of my lips. It was nice to finally use my gifts for love.

  Chapter Eight

  Handler for a Night

  I let out a disgusted sigh, pulling at the spiked collar around my throat. The moon hung bright in the sky above Hillsborough Street. The sidewalks were peppered with college students spilling into Farmhouse, their voices filled with excitement and lust. The voices around Jack and me were filled with the same, young girls wearing their ‘Team Jacob’ and ‘Fangbanger’ shirts, skinny emo kids decked out in all black and plastic fangs. The Brew was having a Bite Me event, a couple of indie metal bands rocking the stage, with a lower cover charge for those who rocked their favorite vampire themed merchandise.

  I crossed my arms as Jack gave me a squeeze on the shoulder.

  “Exciting, isn’t i
t?” he grinned.

  “I could think of a hundred places I’d rather be,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Jack leaned dangerously close, his teeth grazing my neck. I tried to quiet the stream of heat that flowed to my face and somewhere a bit…lower.

  I used to tell myself it was just the venom. A vampire’s touch is filled with the same disarming affect as a spider dishes out to its prey. It’s numbing and intoxicating. But this feeling wasn’t just primal. Staring at him decked out in his Dracula best, my heart swooned. I knew deep down, I’d do just about anything for him.

  He wheeled me around and dipped me, his lips soft and hard on my lips. My cheeks burned as whoops and whistles echoed and bounced around us.

  My legs felt like cooked spaghetti noodles as he lifted me back up. I dug my nails into his arms to stay balanced. “What was that for?”

  “It means a lot to me that you’re helping me out tonight,” he said as he gave me a final peck on the forehead.

  “Uh huh,” I said and cleared my throat. I adjusted my leather corset and jutted out my lip. “Just tell Nikolas he owes me one.”

  Nikolas Turnovo was Jack’s handler. Basically, if Jack decided that he was tired of sucking on slightly warmed packets of blood and wanted something a little fresher, he had to call Nikolas. They’d hit up bars and clubs together and Jack would charm the female/male vic. A quick background check would determine if the person could go missing without drawing too much attention. He was essentially Jack’s wingman. Tonight, that pleasure was mine.

  Jack claimed Nickolas had some pressing business to attend to or something or other. A new vampire who needed to be schooled in the art of not chowing down on every Tom, Dick, and Harry.

  “You say ‘claim’ like I’m full of shit,” Jack said, pinching me playfully. “New vampires are no joking matter.”

  I jabbed him with my elbow. “Neither is poking around in my head.”