by Mary Martel
I followed him out of the room after he noticed I had stopped looking around and had been ready to continue on with the tour.
The dining room lead to the kitchen.
“This is my favorite room in the whole house,” he told me shyly.
I wasn’t entirely sure why.
The appliances were black and nothing special. The counter top on the small island was wood, butchers block. The rest of the countertop was white tile. The walls in here were painted a dark red. A small, circular kitchen table had been shoved into a corner with three chairs pushed into it. The table sat in front of a sliding glass door. Light gray curtains hung around the door.
I found myself shrugging, I didn’t get why this would be anyone’s favorite room.
“Only memory I have of my dad is of him sitting at that table, drinking a cup of coffee.”
I looked at the table again with new eyes. If what Quinton had told me about Dash’s life with his mother and grandmother was true (and I didn’t think he had lied to me about that. What would be the point?) then I could completely understand why this was his favorite room if he saw his dad sitting at the table every time he walked in here.
I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for his loss, but I didn’t want to change the subject away from the Council and what he was telling me about them. He was giving out an awful lot of information and I wasn’t sure when I would get another chance to learn this much about them.
He cleared his throat while he walked across the room to open a door.
“Bathroom,” he said as he opened the door. “Pretty standard. Do you want to look inside?”
“Nope,” I told him, and he shut the door. I had no desire to check out his bathroom, though, I probably should have checked it out seeing as I would be living here with him soon enough.
“Let’s go back to the living room,” he murmured.
He got us each a bottle of water out of the refrigerator as I made my way back to the living room. He’d entirely skipped over the upstairs tour. I had no desire to scope out his bedroom, but I was nosy enough to want to know what the upstairs looked like. I mean, come on, that’s where my room was going to be, he should have brought me up there and showed me around.
After picking a spot in a corner of the couch, I sat down. I slid my feet out of my flip-flops and drew my knees up to my chest.
I felt bad for having my bare feet on his couch and wished I had socks on.
My mind drifted as I stared into the fire, watching the logs burn while the flames danced around.
I pressed my cheek into my knee and closed my eyes. The next thing I knew Dash was gently shaking my shoulder, waking me up.
“Hey,” he said as I sat up and looked around.
How long had he been gone for? It felt like I had only closed my eyes for two seconds before he was shaking me awake.
“Hey,” I muttered back in a rough voice. I cleared my throat and scooted further back on the couch. I let my feet drop to the floor and I sat up straighter.
A tray sat on the orange ottoman. Mugs of hot chocolate and a plate loaded with cookies rested on the tray. Ah, so that had been what took him so long.
Without being invited to do so, I picked up a steaming mug of hot chocolate and held it between my hands. I blew into the mug before taking a sip from it. I couldn’t remember when the last time I had hot chocolate was. It was delicious, even if it did burn going down.
“Anyway,” he said as he picked up a cookie from the tray, carrying on with our previous conversation. “She had problems before the Council tried to get her to join a coven. She didn’t like going outside because her father had only allowed her outside at night and even then, she wasn’t allowed to leave their fenced in backyard. The whole thing is fucked up and the Council was just trying to do right by her, they’d been appalled by the way she had been treated. And, can you really blame them for taking her out of there and getting her away from that man? I don’t. And I don’t think it’s their fault she killed herself, either. Marcus’s father got drunk and drove his car into a tree a week after she died. That whole family has suffered one loss after the next, especially Marcus. First his mother, then his sister, his father, his wife and now his brother. Not to mention this shit with your mom. I can’t really blame him for getting the hell out of here.”
My eyes filled with tears I refused to shed. I didn’t want to talk about Mr. Cole and his sad life anymore. It was making me feel guilty. Guilt for being upset with him for not staying with me. Guilt with myself for not telling him the truth about my mother and keeping this gigantic, hideous secret from him. And guilt because part of me was relieved he was going so that I no longer had to lie to him. The lie was eating at me, festering inside, threatening to poison me. Yeah, I had guilt, I had bucket loads of it. And I really did not want to be talking about Mr. Cole anymore today.
I plunked my mug on the tray and asked, “Do you think they will want to meet me?”
In my head I saw a bunch of wrinkled old dudes wearing suits and huge sunglasses that covered up half their faces. Were there women on the Council? Somehow, I doubted it.
“Shit,” Dash exclaimed as he slammed his mug down on the tray. The brown liquid sloshed over the rim of the mug, spilling all over the tray.
“What?”
“With you here I forgot I had shit to do today.” He muttered. “Damn. I have to get ready.”
He scrambled to his feet and practically ran out of the living room, leaving me baffled as I watched him go.
What the hell just happened?
Chapter Fourteen
“What are you doing?” I asked Dash curiously.
He was rolling out some sheer black fabric across his large dining room table.
“Prepping for my client who is going to be here in about half an hour,” he grunted.
I had found out Dash was excellent when it came to giving out information, even if it was a little awkward.
However, his answer made me blink in confusion because I had no idea what in the heck he was talking about and I expected a better answer than that from him. “What do you mean by client? What sort of client do you have coming?” I asked.
Please don’t let him mean date and he said client to try and spare my feelings. He could have sex with whomever he wanted, I just didn’t want to be around when he did it.
He looked up sharply and studied my face. Damn, I must have given something away in my voice. I kept my face as blank as I could, going for innocent. I meant it when I said I didn’t care who he had sex with, because I didn’t. I didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Dash, I didn’t know him well enough to feel much of anything towards him. I think what bothered me was knowing that he was supposed to have those feelings for me and, yet he seemed indifferent. A blow to the ego, that was.
“I have a few clients that have standing appointments, although, this one isn’t one of mine,” he said carefully. Yeah, he hadn’t bought my innocent look. I didn’t think I was very good at it because Quinton never bought it either.
I sighed and repeated my question, “What do you mean by client?”
I didn’t like repeating myself and wished he had simply answered my question the first time around.
“What is it exactly that you’re imagining it is that I do with these clients?” he asked and now he sounded amused.
I bit my bottom lip and looked away from him. Not because I was embarrassed, but because I was starting to get frustrated with him. Lately my frustration quickly turned to anger and then I lost all common sense and threw shit at people’s heads, injuring them. I didn’t want to cause Dash bodily harm, at least, not yet I didn’t.
“I’m a witch, Ariel,” he said softly, sweetly.
“As am I,” I replied. My reply was neither soft nor sweet. I’m afraid it came out a bit sullen.
Why was he telling me these things I already knew? If not for his tone of voice, I would have thought he was playing with me, laughing at me. But his tone was sweet,
“I offer my services to people for a fee, and not a small one, either,” he said.
“What sort of services?” I asked suspiciously. Was he running some sort of one-man male prostitution ring out of his home? If so, I didn’t think I was going to be able to live here with him after all.
He sighed, heavily, sounding for all the world like he was beginning to lose patience with me.
“Damien, Julian and Quinton meet with clients here as well,” he shared. Finally, we were getting somewhere. “People come to us, looking for answers, looking for love, wanting riches, wanting all kinds of things. Children, sex, money, murder, love, fame, revenge. You name it and someone will pay money for us to help them get it. They pay for potions, spells, to have their cards read. The Council allows it for some reason, I think it has a lot to do with Quinton. People are afraid of him and we get away with a lot of things because of it.”
He finished covering the table in black cloth. He picked a box up from the floor and set it atop the table. Dash started pulling objects out at random. Slim, black and white candle sticks. A white BIC lighter and a deck of cards that was three times the size of a normal deck of cards. The tops of the cards were black with no words or images on them.
Tarot cards.
I pointed towards the deck and said excitedly, “Tyson promised to teach me but there has been no time.” I left out that there had been no time because I had been avoiding them.
I eyed the deck of cards wistfully. I had gone on a date once that had taken me to a carnival. I had been fascinated with the gypsy fortune teller woman and if I’d had my own money at the time I would have paid to have her do a reading for me. My date had thought her a fake and had dragged me out of there. I didn’t get my reading and I still wanted one. Though, I wasn’t entirely sure why. The future could be a frightening, dangerous thing and I was sure my future held some things I absolutely did not need to know anything about until they were happening. But, I was curious. Oh, so curious. About everything, and I wanted to learn. I wanted to learn everything they were willing to teach me.
“Have you ever had a reading done?” Dash asked as he set up the table. Candles in their holders, cards placed neatly off the side in a stack. I wanted to reach out and touch them, make sure they were real.
I shook my head in the negative and his gray eyes raked over my face, taking in my expression. He frowned deeply but let whatever he was frowning about go.
“This lady coming today is a real bitch,” he told me as he moved around the table, towards me. “She always asks for Quinton because she wants his cock. He’ll flirt with her, let her think she has a chance and she always comes back for more. She lusts after beauty, money and things she couldn’t afford on her own. So, she married a very rich old man. That old man died about eight months ago and all his money disappeared when he died. She keeps coming to us, hoping we can help her find the dead man’s money. The problem with her is, we aren’t a detective agency and we sure as fuck aren’t treasure hunters. She gets her cards read every week in hopes that something will change, with her money situation and with Quinton. She’s not going to like seeing me today and she really won’t want to see you.”
“What did I do?” I asked quietly while trying to digest the things he’d just told me.
He stopped in front of me and grinned huge. I blinked stupidly at him. I had never seen him smile before. It did wonders for his face and chased some of the demons out of his eyes.
“Nothing. Like Quinton is going to flirt with some bitch now that we have you,” his smile faded away, but the lightness didn’t leave his eyes. “You have no idea, do you?”
“No idea about what?” I asked, and he laughed again.
I opened my mouth to question him and he cut me off.
“We will have time afterwards,” he said. “I want you to stay and watch, learn something, if you can. After she’s gone, I will read the cards for you.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips, a nervous gesture. I badly wanted the opportunity to learn something new from them. I had been on my own for a while with my magic except for what I read about in books. I wanted to learn from someone real and not because I read about it in a dusty old book.
I liked Dash smiling at me. I liked this side of him, him wanting to do something nice for me, like taking the time to read my cards simply because he could tell it was something I desperately wanted.
“Thanks, Dash,” I said quietly. This time my voice was just as sweet as his had been earlier. It embarrassed me, and I imagined my face turning three different shades of red. “I would like that very much.” Understatement of the year.
“Quinton was right,” he breathed out.
“About what?” I asked, surprised by the sudden topic change.
“We’re all fucked when it comes to you,” he said as someone knocked loudly on the front door.
Chapter Fifteen
Dash had been right about his client who showed up. She made a big deal about only wanting to work with Quinton. Then, when Dash told her that under no circumstances would Quinton see her, she told him she wanted Damien. Personally, I didn’t get it, Damien didn’t seem like the friendliest choice either. And, why was he better than Dash?
She didn’t give any explanations as to why, she simply demanded. If she couldn’t have Quinton, then she wanted Damien. End of story for her.
And Dash gave into her demands. I wanted to tell her to get the hell out, but it wasn’t my house and she wasn’t my client or guest. She was Dash’s client and, with a firm frown in place, he left me alone with her to go phone Damien and see if he could come over immediately to take care of her. The immediately had been another one of her demands because her time was precious, and she didn’t need Dash wasting anymore of it.
After spending all of two minutes in her presence, I decided I hated her guts.
And, did I mention, Dash left me alone with her? Not his smartest move, but I couldn’t blame him for escaping her. I wished I could have escaped with him.
She pulled out a chair at the dining room table and sat down with a graceful flourish. She plopped her mammoth sized designer purse on the table in front of her.
I leaned against the wall by the entryway to the living room and I did it awkwardly. I was going to wring Dash’s neck for putting me in this position.
“So,” she said conversationally as she flipped her long strawberry blonde hair over her slender shoulders. “Who are you and why are you here? They don’t usually have guests when I come over.”
I didn’t like the way she’d said that. So I didn’t respond with an answer. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and laid my head back against the wall. If Dash wanted me to be nice to her he probably shouldn’t have left me alone with her.
“What, are you mute?” she huffed. “No wonder Quinton won’t come over here, what with you being here and all. Who could blame him?”
“I’m not mute,” I told her honestly. And then I kept right on going with the honesty. I tried to bite my tongue, but it didn’t seem to be working so well for me lately. “I’m not mute, I simply have no desire to hold down a conversation with someone who is, clearly, an asshole.”
She stared at me a moment, looking completely dumbstruck before giving an enraged shriek and pushing to her feet. The chair flew back, clattering to the floor in a heap.
I should have kept my mouth shut.
“What did you say to me?” She screeched.
I winced at the horrible, high voice that came out of her mouth. I seriously hoped I never sounded like that in my whole life.
“Answer me, you little bitch,” she screamed. Thankfully, this time her voice wasn’t as high as it had been before.
Pounding footsteps were coming from behind me. Dash was running to get here. He was going to strangle me. This wasn’t a very good way to convince him to like me, by enraging his client.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a rush, in an attempt to smooth things over before Dash got here.
“How dare you call me an asshole,” she seethed.
I shrugged. To hell with her. I had tried being nice and apologized. What more did she want from me?
“What the fuck is going on in here?” Quinton asked from the doorway.
He stood in the doorway, not a foot away from me. Dash stood next to him. Both stared at me in what looked like sick fascination.
“I think I’m ready to go home now,” I told them in a quiet, embarrassed voice.
“Oh, no you don’t,” the woman raged at me. Her small hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides. Her extremely vulgar cleavage heaved up and down with every enraged breath she took in. She looked about two seconds away from tackling me to the ground and trying to rip my hair out after she clawed up my face. “You owe me an apology, you little brat.”
The urge to flee, to run and hide from her and this situation was strong. When fight or flight hit the scene I had always chosen option number two and ran whenever I could. The person who took option number two and ran was no longer the person who I wanted to be. No more running like a scared little rabbit for me.
Moving away from the wall, I stood up straight and squared my shoulders.
“Oh, fuck,” Quinton muttered under his breath. “Look at her face.”
“I see it,” Dash said, and his voice shook with laughter.
I didn’t find anything amusing. Not one tiny, little thing.
“She called me an asshole,” the woman accused. She pointed her clenched fist at me and spit out, “I paid good money to be here and I will not put up with this disrespect from you or anyone else while I’m here.”
“You are an asshole,” Quinton said in a bland voice.
She flinched as if he’d struck her. She must not have ever seen this side to him before. Dash’s words from earlier came back, flooding my mind. This chick had the hots for Quinton and if he were unavailable, she had no problem working with Damien. Then Julian. She would probably make a better coven member than me because she had no problem with latching on to more than one of them.
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