Six Times a Charm

by Deanna Chase

  His eyes flashed orange, then yellow. Holy Moses. I stumbled backwards in the darkness as his eyes began to glow with a positively arresting, utterly horrifying grassy hue. My body tensed, ready for a fight if it came to that.

  “Well, look who likes you, Lizzie.” Grandma rubbed at her wrists where the chains had been.

  What? The automatic excitement that flared at the idea of a good-looking man finding me attractive fizzled under the dread that it was this emerald-eyed…person. Why couldn’t any normal guys like me? Oh wait. One of them might have. Tonight, at this very moment, I was supposed to be enjoying a Rum Swizzle with a boatload of friends as well as Hot Ryan Harmon from the gym. A birthday extravaganza with the stunning Mr. Harmon as the ultimate party prize. Instead, I stood here, at the bottom of a ravine, staring up at this magical enigma.

  “I’m glad to see you’re keeping your distance,” Grandma said, drawing me toward her like an old girlfriend. “That man is nothing but trouble.”

  No kidding. Yet another supernatural complication I could do without. “So who is he?” I asked.

  “Well, sugar beet,” Grandma said, giving my hand a firm squeeze. “He’s your protector.”

  Chapter 4

  I gaped at him. My protector?

  Grandma straightened her shoulders. “I’ve got to tell you, though, I’m not a hundred percent sure.” She leaned close. “So watch yourself.”

  “My protector,” I said, trying to wrap my head around it.

  “I took you without his permission.”

  I stared at her.

  “You’re my granddaughter, for goodness sake!” She sniffed as he tossed a climbing rope down the embankment. “Damn that man. He’s stickier than a pine cone enema.”

  He’d stripped off his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves away from his dark, muscled forearms. “Now we’re going to have to let him help us,” she said, as if we’d lost a major battle. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him about what happened in your bathroom. Don’t go anywhere alone with him, and don’t reveal too much.”

  Too bad, because I was sure I’d never met anyone like him.

  She threw up her hand. “Stop!” she said, as he prepared to descend to help us. “We’re fine on our own.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I said. There was pride and there was practicality. This ditch was taller than I was. Besides, we had to get out of here before more griffins, imps or anybody else showed up. We didn’t have time to see if my seventy-something grandma knew how to climb a rope.

  Grandma grabbed the line and clambered up. Her boots scratched at the embankment, sending down a shower of mud clumps, weeds and god knew what else. “Show off,” I muttered. But my heart wasn’t in it. I was too focused on the sharp featured man who didn’t look at all pleased. His eyes had stopped glowing, so that was something. Still, I couldn’t help wondering what kind of person he was.

  My protector. I rolled the thought around in my mind. When I reached the top, he took my hand. I’d thought I was warm. He was positively toasty. I detected a trace of sandalwood cologne. His other hand was steady and strong at my back as he led me away from the edge. His very presence cut ribbons of heat down my spine. I tried my best to ignore it. Facts were facts—something brought this man here, to us, at this particular moment. I wondered what he wanted.

  “Lizzie Brown,” he said, with a slight Greek accent that made my name sound almost lyrical. “Dimitri Kallinikos. It’s an honor.”

  “How did you find us?” my grandma demanded before I could say a word.

  He arched a brow, deliberately unruffled by her tone. “I have my ways,” he said, dropping my hand. “Although, as I said, I would have rather gone with you.”

  Grandma cocked her head up at him. “You weren’t invited.”

  He leveled an icy gaze at her.

  Oh, please. The wind whipped through the trees, chilling the night. “We were fine by ourselves,” I said. “Really.” Was I going to have to separate these two?

  But he’d forgotten I was even there.

  “I am her protector,” he insisted.

  “And I am her grandmother.” She glowered at him.

  Hello? I was standing right there. But if there was one thing I learned teaching preschool, it was how to pick my battles. Let them argue. I’d figure out how to get us out of here. I scanned the sky for griffins.

  Pirate scrambled up the side of the dropoff, sending globs of dirt flying every which way. “What’d I miss?” Mud, and worse, slicked his fur.

  “Pirate, get over here.” I winced when I saw the bloody gashes on his back. He danced away from me when I tried to inspect them closer. “Oh yikes.” We had to get out of there.

  “Hey.” I waved at the dueling duo. “Less talking. More moving.” I wiped my hands on my khakis and nodded toward the Harley, crumpled at the bottom of the ditch. I prayed we could get the hog going. It might not be pretty, but we just needed it to work.

  Dimitri extracted Grandma’s hog with barely a wrinkle to show for it. In the meantime, Pirate had run off to hide. We didn’t have time for this.

  “Oh, Pirate,” I yelled to the forest of trees edging the narrow, blacktop road. “I have a Peanut Pupper for you. Come on, little guy. Mmm…what about a Pupper-Mint stick?” I listened for any sign of Pirate among the chirping crickets and other sounds of the night. Traces of magic hung thick in the air. He didn’t need to be out there. This place was bad news. It creeped me out that we hadn’t seen another car or truck on this road, save the black Lexus SUV parked a little ways down the shoulder. Dimitri’s. He’d turned on his emergency flashers and was busy getting something out of the back.

  “Come on, Pirate. How ‘bout I throw in a Schnicker-poodle?” Heck, I’d toss in a whole bag of them. I hoped he was okay. Right when I was about to head into the trees to search for him, Pirate called to me from underneath the SUV.

  “Show me the Schnicker-poodle.”

  Oh geez.

  “Ah hah. You don’t have no Schnicker-poodle. I know the whole Schnicker-poodle act. You pulled that act at the park last week. Schnicker-poodles, my ass.”

  Dimitri closed the back tailgate as I dashed up to him. “My dog is under there.” I bent over to look underneath the car and there was Pirate, hiding out behind the muffler.

  “He’ll come out when he’s ready.” He eyed me intently. “Won’t it be easier if you don’t have to force him?”

  Yes, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Dimitri. “How’s the Harley?” I asked, afraid to know.

  “Too wrecked to ride.” He gestured toward Grandma, twenty yards back on the shoulder. She was alternatively coaxing and kicking the mangled mess.

  What else could go wrong? I sighed and focused on the man in front of me. I wasn’t one for hitching rides with strangers, but since Grandma knew him and he’d saved our butts, we’d have to trust him. For now.

  “Think we can hitch a ride?” At least it would throw off our pursuers. And besides, I’d admit it—if only to myself—I had to get out of there. The place was too empty. I rubbed at the goose bumps on my arms.

  Dimitri seemed to sense my anxiety. “We’ll leave soon as your grandmother is ready.” His gaze flickered over my bloody arms as he opened the back door for me. “Wait here.” He returned with a white golf towel and a bottle of spring water. I braced my damp, dirty rear on the edge of the back seat and reached for the towel.

  “Let me,” he said, gently easing me onto the buttery leather seat.

  “You’d better not, I mean—” I said, cursing myself for rambling, but I wasn’t used to this kind of attention. It was too intimate and frankly, it made me nervous. “I’m stinky and wet and—”

  “Brave. When you need to be.” He touched the cool cloth to my elbow and I winced. Every stroke of his fingers spiraled right down to my toes. I really didn’t need to be here, especially when I found myself wanting to reach out and touch him back.

  Keep it together, Lizzie. He’s just trying to keep as much gu
nk as possible off his nice leather seats. I flinched as the water stung a particularly deep scratch. His warm palm cradled my forearm. I pushed through the pain until the only thing I could feel was the soft cloth and him holding me steady.

  I had to know. “What are you?”

  His eyes met mine. A rich brown, sinful as buttermilk chocolate—not green or yellow…or orange as they had been before.

  He shrugged. “I am your protector. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  I felt my blood run cold. It was a straight question, and I deserved a straight answer.

  Sure, I had a lot to learn about the magical world, but at least Grandma was trying to fill me in. And actively protecting me. I snatched the cloth from him and cringed at the stinging pain as I dabbed at my own friggin’ arm.

  He gave me my distance. “Your grandmother has been less than honest with me.”

  I was sure she had her reasons. “Doesn’t feel very good, does it?” I pressed the cloth to a burning scrape.

  Grandma was down the road, saying something to her bike. A final goodbye, perhaps. Even the best bodyshop repairman would need a boat load of magic in order to put that hog to rights again.

  He saw me watching her. “She hasn’t told you the whole truth.”

  We hadn’t had much time. “Actually, in the one-day I’ve known her, my grandma has been remarkably straight with me.”

  If I thought about it, that was probably one of the reasons I’d jumped on her hog in the first place. That and the demon in my bathroom.

  Reluctance swept across Dimitri’s features before he resumed his mask of calm. “There’s something you need to know. I’d let your grandma tell you herself,” he tossed the towel over his shoulder, “but she won’t until it’s too late.”

  He placed his hand on my leg, his dark eyes catching mine. “Lizzie, your grandmother is wanted for murder.”

  Nothing could have prepared me for that. Shock slammed in my throat. I couldn’t see her as a killer. I just couldn’t. Not without a good reason.

  “Murder?” I repeated. Impossible. My mind reeled, trying to deny it, knowing very well it could be true. If so, it would explain more about why she was on the run. “Who did she kill?” A person? A creature? I searched his face. “Is that why those things tied her up back there?”

  The tiny lines around his eyes crinkled as he frowned. “No,” he said, reluctant to say more.

  “What? You’re going to tell me just enough to worry the snot out of me? Stop being coy and level with me.”

  He contemplated the darkness, seeming to decide if he wanted to come clean. The muscles in his jaw clenched before he finally answered. “Facing the evil that surrounds us takes strength, focus. Your grandmother has too many of her own problems. Her energy is scattered.”

  He searched my face. “You need to have a serious talk with your grandmother. Make her explain why she’s on the run. While you’re at it, ask her how she thinks she can possibly protect you.”

  Doubt gnawed at me. “We did fine,” I said. “At least those creatures didn’t get what they wanted.”

  He shook his head. “No, they didn’t.” His eyes caught mine. “Lizzie, I’m afraid those creatures wanted you.”

  Lovely.

  And why, by the way, was everybody after me when I couldn’t even fight an imp without getting my butt kicked? My brain felt like it was about to explode. “So tell me. What makes you think you can possibly protect me? And why do you even want the gig? What’s in it for you?”

  He opened his arms, palms raised to the sky. Mr. Innocence. My foot.

  “Oh no. That act doesn’t fly. I know you have a stake, or you wouldn’t be out in BFE in the middle of the night, dragging bikes out of ditches and—miracle of miracles—you also happen to be the only man who can drive us back to civilization.”

  He gripped my shoulders—warm, demanding. “I suppose this would be the wrong time to inform you that you need me. I know you don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I haven’t earned that yet. But it is crucial that you look to me for guidance.”

  Fat chance.

  Even though Dimitri was a godsend while we were stuck here with a broken-down hog, I didn’t hold any illusions about him. He’d probably aired Grandma’s dirty laundry in order to chip us apart. It burned me to realize it had worked. I did doubt her. Well, enough to learn more.

  Grandma’s boots crunched against the loose rocks on the side of the road. She whipped the towel from his shoulder and used it to wipe the sweat from her neck. “I’d say she’s clean enough, buster.”

  Dimitri snapped to attention and leveled a steely-eyed gaze at Grandma. He pulled another clean towel from his back pocket. “This one’s for your dog. I think you’d better handle him.”

  Pirate jammed his nose into the highway rocks at Dimitri’s feet. He circled, muttering to himself. “You say I never met you, but I know that smell. I could smell a German Shepherd drug sniffing dog to shame, that’s how good I can smell.”

  “Pirate!” This time, he leaped into my arms, my cuts burning with the impact.

  Pirate made show of sniffing the air in front of Dimitri as I touched the damp cloth to Pirate’s back. “E-yow!” He scrambled to escape.

  It was everything I could do to hold him down. The imps had sliced his back pretty bad. It hurt to look at it. One particularly deep scrape might even require stitches. I cleaned his back as well as I could, pain for my little doggie lodging in my throat. It was my fault this happened. I should have left him at my mom’s house in Atlanta.

  I looked up and found Dimitri watching me. Something flickered in his eyes. Understanding?

  Grandma huffed. “So are we going to stand on the side of the road all night, or are we going to get out of here?” My thoughts exactly.

  Dimitri flipped a Milk-Bone to Pirate as my watch dog and I scooted into the backseat.

  “Do you have a dog?” I asked.

  “Not exactly,” Dimitri replied, sparing a glance at my grandma.

  The door thwumped closed and silence enveloped us. “I swear this backseat is bigger than my first apartment,” I said, eyeing the gray leather interior.

  “I still say something smells funny.” Pirate devoured the Milk-Bone and immediately began sniffing for crumbs.

  Grandma rode with Dimitri in the front seat. If she was a cold blooded murderer, I wondered what he’d done to get her goat. Something worse? While it was true I didn’t know the woman very well, she didn’t seem like the type to get offended easily. Still, Grandma wasn’t surprised enough when he saved our butts. Or grateful enough. What did he have on us?

  As soon as he started the car, they fell into a heated discussion. I tried to listen, but Dimitri turned up the radio. The only thing I could hear from the back of the car was Mick Jagger belting out Sympathy for the Devil.

  Oh no. Not on my watch. I unbuckled my seatbelt and shoved between the two front seats. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing!” Grandma huffed. “Except for the fact you need instruction.”

  “She needs to be safe,” Dimitri said, his eyes on the road.

  “My coven can keep her safe,” Grandma declared.

  “Oh yes,” he said, contempt dripping from his voice. “With troll hit men after her.” He paused to let that sink in before he continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they unleashed the demons.”

  Um, like Xerxes? Maybe Dimitri had a point.

  Unfortunately, the chat fest in the front seat had turned into a glaring session.

  I tried to use the remainder of the journey to rest up. The hum of the motor was a treat for my aching muscles. Pirate and I were asleep before Haleyville. We curled together in an easy slumber until the SUV started bouncing through a country side road with more holes than Augusta National.

  I opened my eyes, my contacts fused to my corneas, and batted a muddy paw out of my face.

  “The coven in Nashville would be a wiser choice,” said Dimitri.

  “All dead
,” Grandma said, her voice catching.

  I rubbed at my eyes. What kind of nightmare was I living?

  I stared out the window at a small, main street. This wasn’t Memphis. It had to be one of the smaller towns on the outskirts. Worn, turn-of-the-century buildings housed a pawn shop, a barbeque joint and a few junk shops disguised as antique stores. We stopped in front of a bar called the Red Skull. Purple neon snaked up the side of the crimson front door. Beer signs suffocated the windows. The thump thump of heavy metal music was obvious even inside the car. Large black crows roosted in the twiggy trees that sprouted from breaks in the sidewalk. I could just imagine what we’d find inside.

  “Here we are.” Grandma patted the seat back as she twisted around to see me. “Home for the next month or so. We live on the two floors above the Red Skull.”

  “A heavy metal bar?”

  “Buck up, buttercup. The Red Skull is a happening place. Lenny named it after our red hat club.” She frowned. “You know, for gals fifty and over.”

  “I thought you belonged to a biker gang.”

  “What’s the difference?” She sidled out of the car.

  “I smell cheeseburgers!” Pirate jumped over the seat and darted out behind her.

  “Stay where we can see you!” I called to my dog, who chased the crows off the trees. The birds beat their wings and squawked in protest.

  “We weren’t always bikers, you know,” she said as we made our way to the entrance. “We’ve been on the run from Vald for so long,” she trailed off, “thirty years on the road and it just sort of happened.”

  Grandma opened the door to the Red Skull, and Iron Maiden’s Stranger in a Strange Land blasted out. She ushered us inside the dark hole of a bar. About thirty bikers, mostly women, crowded the pinball machines and pool tables. Cigar smoke burned my lungs.

  “Gertie!” Wild shouts erupted and we found ourselves at the center of a group of leather-clad bodies. I stared at Grandma, who now had a cigarette dangling from her lower lip. So that’s how I got Gertrude as a middle name.