by Gray Holborn
Strange Supes
An Odessa Black Novel
Book One
Gray Holborn
Copyright © 2018 Gray Holborn
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission contact:
[email protected]
Visit the author’s website at
https://grayholborn.blogspot.com/
Cover by Maialen Alonso http://maialenalonso.es/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For my mom, my definition of strength.
Chapter One
I tipped the pitcher of water over Zeek’s head, the cold bath doing nothing to combat the scent of whiskey oozing from his pores.
“What the hell, Odessa?” He stood up, flicked a few ice chips off his shoulder like they were a bad case of dandruff, and proceeded to wring the water from his baggy clothes onto the floor.
I set the empty pitcher down and resumed my efforts at clearing the tables, not bothering to look at him. While he frequently made lewd comments after downing a few fingers of amber liquor, today he took it a step further and grabbed my ass while I was bent over wiping a table. What was it about bars and alcohol that made guys think it was okay to grope any girl within reach?
“You know the rules, Zeek. Being drunk does not get you a free pass on harassment. If you have a problem with it, go talk to Sam. Otherwise sit your ass down, finish your meal, and be on with your night—somewhere else preferably.” I paused briefly, my mouth tightening into a parody of a smile. “Unless of course you’d rather I kick you out now and have you banned from coming back to your favorite watering hole?”
He blanched at the threat. To a drunk asshole, nothing was more terrifying than the thought of taking away his steady stream of cheap booze. And in a city like Seattle, cheap alcohol was rare—unicorn-levels of rare. And Zeek was nothing if not an eager regular at The Tavern. He just also happened to be a complete asshat.
“You know very well I can’t complain to Sam,” he mumbled, shoving a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. I tried not to gag at the way spittle settled into the corners of his mouth while he ate.
I walked back around the bar, refilling the pitcher before setting it down in front of him, just in case he needed a not-so-friendly reminder to behave. Sending him a warning glare, I smiled to myself, imagining what it would be like if he did complain to Sam.
Technically, Sam was my uncle. But he was only ten years older than me and acted a lot more like the protective older brother I never wanted but still loved. There was no chance he would take Zeek’s word over mine. In fact, the asshat got lucky. If Sam had witnessed the grope, Zeek would probably have a black eye right now. Maybe two.
We were slow, so I pulled an almost-empty bottle of cheap vodka off the shelf and tried repeating some of the fancy maneuvers Luis was always dazzling the customers with. I was getting better, but where Luis made the tossing-bottles-behind-his-back thing look impressive, I mostly just looked like I was failing out of clown college.
Zeek and I both cringed as the bottle fell on the bar top, soaking us both in the last dregs of vodka.
He smiled at me, and I stared in morbid fascination as strings of milky spit morphed around his words. “I hope you don’t think you’re getting a tip tonight.”
I narrowed my eyes, hating Luis for running late. I didn’t usually have to cover the bar, so Zeek wasn’t usually my problem. He wasn’t exactly setting the mood for a good shift.
Sam walked out of the back room, a small broom and dustpan in his hands. As soon as his shape was discernible, there was an audible sigh from the girls propped up at the other end of the bar, drinking their flamingo-pink cosmos. They were part of Sam’s usual fan club hoping to get lucky enough to hitch a ride back to his place. Well, our place since I lived with him. It wasn’t always the same girls, but they looked and acted enough alike that they were interchangeable as far as I was concerned. Maybe it was because he was family, but I didn’t really get the fascination.
The guy was thirty-one years old and wore the same three dirty band t-shirts over and over again on a predictable rotation with a pair of dark jeans that I was fairly certain he almost never washed. And his shoulder-length black hair was in desperate need of a good brushing. He kind of looked like he should be fronting some nineties grunge band. Of course, the golden hue of his aura gave him a slightly ethereal look, but it wasn’t like the chicks at the bar could see his energy—no one could, except for me, so there was no way that was adding to his appeal. Still, I couldn’t really complain about his popularity with the female population. I’m pretty sure that most of the bar’s revenue was pulled in from women trying to catch his attention for more than thirty seconds. Very few of them ever succeeded.
“Dess, I heard the shatter all the way in the back. If you want to practice tossing bottles around like a lunatic, do it when we don’t have customers please,” Sam whispered, his dark eyes narrowing at Zeek’s laughter. “And Luis called, he’ll be here in five.”
“Thank the gods.” I let out a huge breath. Luis’s job was way more difficult than I gave him credit for. Those cosmos the barbies were drinking? Pretty sure I forgot to add in the vodka. There was a reason Luis was behind the bar and I was out jotting orders down on the floor. Not that I’d ever admit it to him. The guy’s ego didn’t need any more inflating.
“You’re telling me. It’s a miracle you haven’t burned this place down yet,” he muttered, more to himself than to me, but I caught the smile in his voice. Sam’s dark almond- shaped eyes scanned Zeek’s wet hair and clothes. “Zeek, why do you look so guilty?”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he stuttered, “talk to your niece. I could’ve been cut by one of those shards. You should’ve seen her whipping that bottle around at me. In fact,” he puffed out his chest, “you’ll be lucky if I don’t sue.”
Sam raised a dark brow, his expression more amused than afraid. “I doubt it’ll come to that.” Sam turned to me with a quick wink, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly as he focused his gaze back on Zeek’s face. “Time to pay your bill. Then go home.”
Instantly, Zeek’s expression melted into an almost dazed smile. Sam was a persuasion-manipulator, and I bit back a grin when I recognized the usual signs. Generally, he could only manipulate humans and they had to be weak-willed, distracted, or inebriated. Zeek fit the bill for all three. Sam didn’t use his ability out in the open very often. For the most part, the existence of energy users was kept secret from humans and it was in everyone’s best interest to keep it that way. I didn’t think many people would take kindly to being worked over by a supe. And we needed humans to keep spending money at the bar, not boycotting it. I enjoyed not having to pay rent at Sam’s place. Luckily, Zeek was a bit of an idiot, so Sam could get away with the whole compulsion thing. And hey, at least he was using his powers for good.
Still, while I was happy for Sam to come to the rescue, I was always a little bit jealous when he used his energy manipulation. Mostly because I didn’t inherit it. While he could literally do light mind control, all I could do was recognize the soft gold glow surrounding him and other energy users—a glow that no one else seemed capable of seeing. And after living with Sam for the last six years,
I barely even recognized his glow anymore. So I was stuck with a pseudo ability, while Sam was practically a franchise deal away from joining the Avengers.
Without another word, Sam walked to the other side of the bar to serve the girls another round and likely earn himself a fat tip.
Zeek drew my attention away from the glass I was cleaning by waving a twenty at me. “Thanks for the great service, Odessa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Generally, Zeek would only utter a sentence like that if it were laced with irony and the hard slur of Jim Beam, so I knew this was all Sam’s doing. Not to mention that the only ‘tips’ he typically left were loud asides to the female staff encouraging them to wear push-up bras or no bras at all.
He handed me the bill—and lo and behold, there were two—then turned to leave, swaying drunkenly as he made his way to the door. Sam knew I was saving up for a new laptop. I caught his eye and he winked at me without breaking stride as he walked into the backroom on his cell. Did I mention Sam was the best?
After pocketing the twenties, I looked up to find Luis crossing paths with Zeek at the door’s threshold. His face pulled in confusion, taking in Zeek’s drenched appearance and unusually chipper attitude.
“Odie, so sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.” Luis looked at me with his shit-eating grin, knowing full well how much I hated that nickname. There was so much you could do with Odessa: Dessa, Dess, hell even D didn’t make me want to hit someone. Odie was what you named a dog, the breeds with smashed in faces and breathing problems.
He hopped over the counter out of breath. Luis was a pretty big guy, so I was always a little bit surprised by how graceful and agile he was—and a lot bit jealous. He smiled and rolled his eyes when he saw the trashcan full of glass. “Why am I not surprised, and why do I have the feeling that had something to do with why Zeek looked like he just got back from a pool party? You’re so lucky Sam is your uncle.” He laughed and nudged my shoulder, his left dimple on full display. Dark brown hair fell into his face while he helped me clean the last few glasses in the sink.
“Don’t I know it.” I fiddled with the black pendant on my necklace, a permanent fixture in my wardrobe, before tucking it into my shirt and smiling at him. “Now that you’re here to rescue Odessa-the-damsel from the onslaught of killer vodka bottles, I’m going to prep for dinner.” I hopped onto the counter, trying to gracefully reproduce his entrance. Somewhere along the way I went wrong though, because two seconds later I was sliding around in the puddle left by Zeek. Karma was a bitch. I ignored Luis’s laughter as I walked towards the kitchen, perfectly content to pretend that I’d nailed it.
✽✽✽
Four hours later the dinner rush was over, so I was finished with the worst of my shift and finally able to breathe. We were even more slammed than usual and I was kicking Sam for telling Ellie she didn’t need to come in tonight. I was too bad at this job to run the floor by myself. Luis was right, if anyone other than Sam owned this place, I would’ve been out of the job on day one.
I was picking up mashed french fries that were caked into the threading of the carpet (seriously, why didn’t parents clean up after their kids?) when the back of my neck started to tingle like someone was staring at me. I turned around and noticed a new customer across the room in the back booth. He must’ve seated himself, because I didn’t hear anyone come in. I could tell from my semi-crouched spot on the floor that he was a supernatural, and from the looks of him, he was a powerful one. Sam’s glow seemed dim compared to his—then again, that might be because I was so used to being around his energy that I no longer really noticed it.
His eyes scanned the bar in barely disguised disgust, while I made my way over to take his order. His light blond hair was swept back, revealing eyes that were an unusual mixture of light and dark shades of gray. Something about his rigid posture and unreadable expression made me feel like a mouse in a lion’s cage. I suddenly felt self-conscious that my fingers were crusted over with potato mush.
My eyes traveled to the long silvery-white scar running through the tip of his eyebrow when he cleared his throat. I jumped—how long had I been staring?
“Hi. I’m Odessa and I’ll be your server tonight, can I get you started with something to drink? Our seasonal draft list is written above the bar if you’re interested.” Did that always sound so contrived? I tugged nervously on my black shirt and took a deep breath in and out. I wasn’t a shy person, but something about seeing someone new with the glow always made me nervous. It didn’t happen every day. Hell, it barely happened once a year. Not to mention the fact that all supes seemed to be preternaturally beautiful too, only adding to the anxiety. And it definitely added to the anxiety since, according to Ellie, a supernatural’s good looks were nothing more than the tools of a predator. But knowing that didn’t stop the butterflies from pounding around in my stomach with a healthy layer of fear.
“I’ll take a Jack, neat, and a glass of water.” He barely acknowledged my presence as his eyes kept sweeping the bar looking for something. If his perfectly tailored clothes didn’t make it clear this wasn’t his usual haunt, the curl of his lip did. I turned around and scanned the bar, trying to filter the scene through the supe’s pompous eyes. I looked from Sam’s grungy Cobain-wannabe look, to the plain bartop that was badly in need of sanding and a fresh coat of paint, to the motley crew of drunk locals and loners that were barely a step above Zeek. My cheeks colored slightly, noticing the mismatched stools, tables, and paint-chipped walls. The Tavern work crew ragged on Sam’s love of all things eclectic and dilapidated, and complained discreetly about the rude and often miserly regulars. We earned the right to though, The Tavern was ours.
I swallowed my sudden need to stand up for Sam’s bar and kick the pompous ass out—both for making me feel uncomfortable and for judging my second home. “Sure, that’ll be right up.” I left awkwardly, my limbs tense, and walked over to Luis to get the drink order.
He grabbed a glass and glanced over at the guy in the booth, a small frown tugging down the corner of his mouth. “So what are you and Ellie up to tonight?”
I watched as he flipped the bottle of whiskey behind his back to the appreciation and adoration of a few girls seated in front of him—the crowd at the bar was heavy this time of night. Luis wasn’t a supernatural, but I couldn’t help but think his coordination was some type of magic. You’d think after six years of friendship, some of that would rub off on me. It didn’t.
“Promised El I’d finally go back to that club she’s so fond of. I kind of owe it to her since last night I got my way with old movies and beer—” I paused and the air between us filled with awkward silence. Was I supposed to invite him? “You know, girl’s night,” I added, chewing my bottom lip while he poured the drink without once removing his gaze from my eyes. The trace of amusement that quirked his eyebrow was my only clue that he knew I was uncomfortable and that he was enjoying it. Sadist.
He handed me the glass of Jack and cleared his throat. “Well maybe tomorrow night we can all get pizza or something? Catch a movie or maybe shoot some pool? It’s been a while.”
He broke the intense eye contact and I let out a quick breath of relief. I smiled and nodded, grabbing the glass from him after I filled up another one with water.
After I set the glasses down on the table, Gray Eyes spared me a quick glance, but no ‘thank you.’
“Do you know what you want to order yet?” My words were clipped, terse, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Yeah, just bring me a steak I guess. Rare.”
I stared at him for a moment, trying to calm the jolt of unease running through my body. Standing this close to him, I could practically feel his energy aura. This guy was powerful, I just couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or not. Was he a Glenda or a Wicked Witch of the West? Either way, he had me on edge—part of me wanted to punch him and a much smaller—in fact practically miniscule—part of me wanted to impress him. “Okay. What do you want as your side
? We can do salad, fries, or the vegetable of the day. Today it’s peas.” Peas? There’s a way to grab a guy’s attention. There’s nothing sexy about peas. “They’re uh, frozen.”
He glanced at the menu briefly, a look of disinterest clear on his face. “Just bring it with some bacon if that’s possible.”
I started to laugh but bit back my smile after catching the flash of annoyance in his eyes. “Right, steak. With a side of a bacon. Coming right up.”
I took his menu and dropped the ticket off for Reggie, our cook.
Since I only had one customer, I started on some side work in the back, hoping I could head out early if I finished soon. And ‘soon’ was my word of the night. The sooner Ellie and I made it to the club, the sooner we could go home and crash. I was beat. Sam walked by to help me fill up the salt and pepper shakers.
“Sam, did you see that guy in the back booth?”
“Pretentious one that doesn’t seem capable of anything but a glare? Yeah, why?”
“He’s a supe,” I whispered, conscious of the fact that a very human Reggie was only a few feet away. “Golden glow. But it’s super bright. Do you know him?”
Sam shook his head.
“Oh, I figured maybe he was looking for you. This doesn’t seem like his usual haunt.” When my head turned to Sam, my hand went with it knocking the salt to the floor. My nerves were on overdrive tonight. “Damn it. Sorry, I’ll clean that up, hold on.”
When I turned back, Sam was frowning. “Never seen him, but something about him looks familiar. Maybe he’s been here before? Guy looks like he’s got a stick up his ass though—don’t go out of your way to piss him off Dess. Keep a low profile.” He looked up and nodded to the kitchen. “Looks like Reg has your order up. Once your guy cashes out, you can go home. Just text me so I know you got back safely. And you and Ellie be careful tonight.” Sam liked to pretend that he was more like my best friend than my uncle-turned-guardian, but the guy worried like a mother hen.
