The Witch's Familiars

by G. A. Rael

  Cindy gave his arm a playful swat. "You hush," she said, taking Jordan by the arm to lead her into the crowd. "Now, where has that Darren gotten off to?"

  “Who’s Darren?” Jordan asked warily.

  “A very nice man. I think you two would really hit it off.”

  Jordan groaned internally. Matchmaking was just about the last thing on her mind, second only to that dental filling she’d been putting off for too long. Besides, she doubted any of Cold Creek’s residents were interested in the kind of baggage she was carrying.

  Cindy paused and squinted across the room. "Oh, no. They're using the wrong garnish for the pork loin. Grab a drink and I'll find you, dear."

  Jordan watched as her hostess stalked the hired caterers like a lioness after gazelles. Relieved to be let off the conversation hook, she went over to the bar and sipped her glass of wine in a relatively low-traffic corner of the room. What Cindy had painted as an intimate gathering had turned out to be a bash that would make Gatsby himself envious. Once she saw the women in cocktail dresses and the men in linen suits fit for a balmy spring night, her fear that she was woefully underdressed was confirmed.

  "You must be Jordan Adams," called a warm, chipper voice. Jordan turned to look behind her and saw that the voice belonged to a willowy man who looked like he’d just stepped out of a country club brochure. His golden hair was slightly longer in the front than it was in the back, leading-man style. He wore a well-tailored tan suit with an open jacket and a light blue tie that made his eyes look that much bluer in comparison. He was undeniably handsome, but Jordan couldn't help but feel he had spent a lot of time looking so effortlessly put together.

  He extended his hand for a warm if unnecessarily firm handshake. "I'm Chase Wilde. The local ambulance chaser."

  "Oh, hi," she said, returning the handshake. Chase certainly looked the part of a lawyer. Hopefully he wasn't introducing himself because he thought she could use legal representation after what had happened at the diner. "It's nice to meet you."

  "Likewise," Chase said with a plastic grin. "We don't get many newcomers in town."

  "So I've heard," Jordan said, taking a sip of wine to calm her nerves. "Cindy didn't mention this was going to be such a formal affair. I'm afraid I'm not really dressed for the occasion."

  "Don't be ridiculous, you look stunning," Chase said, giving her an appreciative once-over. As overt as the gesture was, it didn't strike Jordan as lascivious. Not like Hermes, who oozed sex with every breath. Chase cleared his throat and hesitated a moment before asking, "What brings you to our little slice of nowhere, Ms. Adams?"

  "Well, I traveled a lot growing up so I guess I just like changing up the scenery every now and then," she said, taking another long sip of wine. "And please, call me Jordan."

  Chase watched her with great intent and she could see the wheels turning in his eyes. "Pardon me if this is too intrusive, but isn't traveling a rather expensive pastime for a person your age?”

  "You talk like you're soon for the grave, Mr. Wilde,” Jordan said in what she hoped he would take as a teasing tone. “You don’t look that much older than me.”

  “Chase,” he insisted. "And I apologize, I didn't mean to pry. It's just strange for a young woman to show up in a rural little town with no notable history to speak of. Cindy said you have a botany business, but we're hardly a thriving market with a population that's barely into the five digits.” His smile grew. “Just trying to fit the pieces together."

  "Your clients are lucky," she said with a nervous laugh. "You're very inquisitive."

  "It's a blessing and a curse."

  Jordan sighed. She’d always known it was just a matter of time before someone asked the right questions. Her fresh start in Cold Creek hadn't been nearly as smooth as she had hoped, but the idea of starting over again so soon was too exhausting to bear. If coming out with a bit of the truth was what it would take to keep the lawyer from dredging up the rest, so be it. "I'll be honest with you, Chase, the biggest draw of Cold Creek is the fact that there is no obvious draw."

  “I see,” he said knowingly, waiting for her to go on.

  "A little over a year ago, there was an… accident,” she said quietly. “It was too painful to remain in the same town, and the settlement I received allowed me the freedom to start over, so I've been traveling ever since. It just felt like it was time to put down some roots, and Cold Creek seemed as good of a place as any."

  "I'm so sorry," he said in what seemed to Jordan to be his first genuine display of the evening. "I really shouldn't have pried."

  "No, it's fine. It's a small town, I know people are going to ask questions," she murmured. "At least you're asking directly. That's the main reason I moved in the first place, I guess. I just got tired of being 'the girl from the fire' and I wanted to go somewhere I wouldn't be recognized. I'm sure you've heard enough about what happened in my last town to know that it didn't go so well."

  Chase hesitated. "I work primarily as a defense attorney. I don't believe most of the rumors I hear, never mind the ones I read about."

  Jordan smiled. "In this case, they were greatly exaggerated. I'm just another flaky new age amateur botanist who made the mistake of settling down in the Bible Belt. Things got a little out of hand when someone found out I mixed my own plant food and..."

  "Say no more," he said, holding up a hand. "I know how the zealous types can be. Fortunately, you'll find the people of Cold Creek to be a bit more tolerant than the small town populous you're used to."

  "Everyone except your vet."

  Chase gave a derisive snort. "He's on the other end of the dogmatic spectrum. Militant atheist."

  "Ah," said Jordan. Secretly, she couldn't fault him for that. Sometimes she wished believing in nothing was an option for her.

  A server came by holding a tray of margaritas. Her mother’s favorite drink. Jordan and her brother had once gotten the whipping of a lifetime for taking a taste of one of the leftover glasses while their mother was passed out on the couch. The salty rim and bitter liquid alone would’ve been enough of a punishment.

  "No thanks," said Jordan, waving her hand slightly as the server thrust the tray toward her. The woman spun around in the same instant and the tray struck Jordan's hand, toppling out of the server’s arms. Jordan watched helplessly as the whole thing went down.

  Chase’s hand shot out and at first it looked like he was going to save the tray. Instead, he reached past it and caught only the salt shaker, letting the tray and glasses shatter. It all happened in an instant but it felt like longer.

  "Nice job," Chase muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face as he became aware of the crowd staring at him. He held up the salt shaker with an air of false triumph. "Good news everyone, the salt is safe."

  The crowd laughed, instantly disarmed.

  In that moment, he reminded Jordan of a golden retriever--beautiful, charming and unexpectedly goofy--and it was not an association that would be forgotten any time soon.

  "Well, that was embarrassing," he muttered, bending down to clean up the tray as the server hurried off. Jordan knelt and followed suit, surprised that someone like Chase was willing to literally stoop to clean up someone else's mess.

  "You're not the one who practically threw the tray," she said dryly, dropping a few large chunks of glass onto the tray. She watched him for a moment as his hair fell over his eyes and he focused intently on plucking shards off the floor.

  "I suppose she was slinging the tray around," he agreed, glancing up at Jordan. "Let's hope she's gone off for a broom."

  “Yeah—ow!" A shard dug into Jordan's finger and she hissed air in through her teeth as she stared down at the pooling blood on her fingertip.

  Chase snapped to attention, his sleek golden strands only partially obscuring the wild look in his once soft blue eyes. "You're hurt." His voice was lower than it had been a minute ago. Polished stone had become gravel.

  "I'm fine," she assured
him, sucking on the tip of her finger. "See? Just a small cut."

  It was certainly nothing compared to what she inflicted on herself to make her potions.

  The waitress returned with a broom and dustpan. "I'm so sorry about--oh, you didn't need to do that," she said once she saw that the mess had mostly been cleaned up.

  Chase stood, raking a hand through his mildly disheveled hair. "I'm afraid we've had a small accident," he said, taking Jordan's wrist and holding her bleeding hand up as proof. "Where can I find a first-aid kit?"

  "The bathroom down that hallway, first door on the left," said the waitress, pointing. "I'm really sorry."

  "It's not your fault," Jordan insisted before Chase dragged her off. “Chase, it's fine."

  "It's not fine," he all but growled. Jordan staggered at his sudden change in demeanor as he released her hand and motioned her to follow him into the bathroom. He kept his back to her as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet and placed a first-aid kit on the edge of the sink.

  By the time he turned around, he was his genial, handsome self again as he offered his hand. "It's the least I can do. You wouldn't have gotten hurt at all if I’d caught that tray."

  "That's quite a heavy sense of responsibility you've got there," Jordan said, reluctantly placing her hand in his. The wild look in his eyes returned as he turned her hand over, but it was gone so soon that she thought maybe she had imagined it altogether.

  "We take liability seriously in my line of business," Chase said in a tone so grave he could only be joking. He held her finger under running water for a moment before spraying some kind of antiseptic on it from the kit. Jordan flinched out of instinct, but it didn't sting.

  "Well, I've had my share of lawsuits for a lifetime."

  He gave her an apologetic smile and finished bandaging her finger. "There we are. I'm no MD, but I think that should hold for the evening."

  "Thanks," Jordan said, stepping back from the sink. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Of course."

  "Are you hemophobic?"

  He blinked.

  "It means a fear of blood, not --"

  "I know what it means," he said with a chuckle. "And no, I'm not. Why do you ask?"

  "You just looked a bit freaked out when I got cut," she tried to explain. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

  He gave her that disarming smile as he meticulously placed everything back in the kit before returning it to the medicine cabinet. "It's my own personal philosophy that there's no such thing as a question that shouldn't be asked, just acceptable questions and better ones."

  "Okay, I'll bite," she said, crossing her arms. "What's the better question?"

  He leaned in close, which meant leaning down a considerable distance to match her height. "How about… ‘Are you a vampire?'"

  Jordan stared at him for a while, nervous laughter building in her throat. He was certainly elegant enough to be one, not to mention strange enough. Witches were one thing, even if she wasn't eager to adopt the label for herself. They were part of the religious narrative that had been passed down for thousands of years, the same narrative that angels belonged to. Vampires seemed entirely unrelated to the powers and principalities Jordan's father had always warned her about. They were just too idyllic to be real, even if Chase Wilde did fit the bill. But she’d believe anything after seeing a man turn into a cat.

  When his intense gaze caused her skeptical mind to waver ever so slightly, his face split into a wide grin set with very human teeth. In fact, the only thing at all abnormal about them was how white they were. “I’m kidding. I have been told I look kind of like one from some ‘90s movie, but alas, I'm just your typical boring pencil pusher. Nothing wild.”

  Relief echoed in Jordan's laugh. "You had me going for a second there. Very clever pun, though."

  "Pun?"

  His blank look made her realize it had been an accident. "Well, yeah. Your last name is Wilde, so I figured it was another name joke. You know… Chase the ambulance chaser?”

  He cringed. "Oh, that's bad."

  "Yeah," she agreed, deciding not to admit that it was also a bit endearing.

  "Let's get you back to the party," he said, offering his arm. Jordan took it with far less hesitation this time and let him lead her back out into the main hall. The mess had been cleaned up and appetizers were being passed around. The party seemed back in full swing.

  "Jordan!" Cindy's voice rose above the chatter in the room. Jordan looked up to see her dragging a man through the crowd. She had been wondering when this mysterious eligible bachelor would show up and was admittedly curious as to what he could possibly have that made him worth mentioning over the debonair if cheesy Chase.

  When Cindy and the stranger she was leading like a dog on a leash finally came into view, Jordan's throat closed up. It wasn't a stranger at all. It was the vet.

  Five

  Darren looked as surprised at the encounter as Jordan was, though not nearly as horrified. And why should he be? He wasn't the one who had been humiliated in a room full of strangers.

  "I'd like you to meet Dr. Darren St. Clair," Cindy said, looking between them in confusion. "Do you two know each other already?"

  "Not by name," Jordan said guardedly, waiting for the vet to launch into another tirade.

  "We met briefly the other day," he said, keeping his eyes locked on Jordan.

  "Oh, then you'll have something to talk about," Cindy said, looking between them with a conspiratorial shimmer in her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder when Chase cleared his throat. "Oh, and I see you've already met Chase. My, the boy does move fast."

  Chase’s pleasant smile remained, but it started to crack a little in one corner. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Cindy. Jordan has just been graciously keeping me company during this lovely evening you've put together."

  "Oh, how nice," Cindy said, bending under the weight of his charm. "It was all so last minute."

  "It's lovely," Jordan insisted, glancing at Darren. "In fact, I should probably leave to make sure it stays that way."

  "Don't be silly, you just got here," said Cindy, giving Darren a strange look.

  "Yes, please stay," Chase added a bit too eagerly.

  "If anyone should leave, it's me," said Darren.

  "Yes, maybe you should," Chase said in an icy tone.

  “Chase!” Cindy cried.

  "Go ahead, Darren. Tell Cindy how you cornered Ms. Adams last week at the diner," Chase said, taking a step closer to the vet.

  So he did know. Now his interest in her made even less sense.

  Cindy looked between the two men, frowning. "What is he talking about, Darren?"

  "There was an... incident," the vet said, clearing his throat. "That's actually why I came here tonight. I'd like to speak with Jordan alone, to apologize."

  "I'm sure you would," Chase muttered. Just when Jordan thought he was about to deck the veterinarian, Cindy stepped between them.

  "That's enough. Chase, it sounds like these two have some unfinished business to discuss, so why don't you and I take a walk?"

  "But--"

  "Come along, dear," Cindy said in a singsong voice, leading Chase away by the arm. He cast a forlorn glance back at them before they disappeared into the crowd.

  "I think that's my cue," Jordan said, turning to search for the attendant who had taken her coat.

  Darren grabbed her arm, this time with less force than he had shown at the diner. Still, his touch was unwelcome and she quickly shirked away from it. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't touch me."

  "Sorry," he muttered, dropping his hand immediately. "I really did just come in hopes that I’d run into you. I had no idea Cindy was planning on playing matchmaker."

  "I'd hope not--unless, of course, you have a thing for publicly humiliating girls before you hit on them."

  He stared at her with a blank look, as if he didn't quite know how to respond to that. It gave Jordan time to notice how well he cleaned up, mu
ch to her chagrin. "I don't," he replied at length.

  "Great, then there's nothing more to discuss. Goodnight, Dr. St. Clair, and please give Cindy my apologies for leaving early. I've suddenly developed a headache," she said, ready to leave without her jacket.

  "Jordan, please, I meant what I said about coming to apologize for what happened," he said in a hushed tone. "As long as we're both here --"

  "Excuse me?" Jordan called once she spotted the attendant. "Do you know where I can get my jacket?"

  The man nodded and disappeared into the other room. Jordan looked away and fidgeted with the clasp on her clutch for something to do while she waited in the foyer.

  "Look, I get that I'm not your favorite person right now," Darren began, "but you have to understand how it looked from my perspective."

  "Oh, I understand perfectly."

  "No, you don't," he said. "I have a responsibility to protect this town--not just the animals, but the people."

  "And I'm sure the citizens of Cold Creek are very lucky to have you as their vigilant guardian," Jordan said, purposely avoiding his gaze. "You made it very clear how you felt about me the other day in front of everyone, so there's no need to go over it again."

  "You don't get it," he muttered. "The people in this town are vulnerable in ways you as an outsider couldn't possibly understand."

  Jordan frowned. "So help me understand."

  Darren raked a hand through his tousled hair and Jordan noticed that he was wearing a worn T-shirt beneath his open blazer. Maybe he hadn't completely cleaned up after all. At least she wasn't the only one who hadn't come dressed for the occasion. "I can't. Not here," he said, glancing around as if looking for someone. "Let me buy you some coffee and we can talk about it then."

  "I'm kind of soured on coffee lately.” She was never going back to that diner again after the scene Darren had caused. To her relief, the attendant slipped through the crowd with her light tan coat. "Thank you," said Jordan.

  "Look, I saw the cat," Darren said quickly, evidently aware that he was running out of time. "I don't know how he's okay and I don't believe for a second it's because of your herbal—“ he paused as if searching for the right word, “things. Still, when I saw him there wasn't a scratch on him, so I figured I should at least hear you out."