My Luck (Twisted Luck Book 1)

by Mel Todd

  I sat there just blinking at him, unable to even conceive of a situation where I had the ability to help and I would choose not to, for my hair.

  "So just to get this to sink in, by next week you need to dig up and compare and contrast two cases where mages were charged with not assisting. One must be a successful prosecution and one must be a successful defense. And no, you may not use the Irish Coach Riot as an example. Go find something new and interesting."

  People grumbled and he ignored us. "Moving on. Police radio signals here in our state and in the local departments you will be working with."

  The rest of the day was spent taking notes, doing pop quizzes on call signs, and then moving on to an anatomy refresher, something that never hurt. But I couldn't get out of my mind the idea of refusing, even if it cost you your life. I would have given my life to save Stevie.

  Chapter 23

  Magic is the worst type of drug, one that is freely accessible to some of us with the only limits being our imagination. Everyone should take vows of abstinence from magic and together we can create a world where everyone is equal. ~ From a speech by Freedom from Magic

  By all the Merlins, please don't let this suck too much. I need to be able to work WITH the police.

  I'd finished my last day of MA on Friday, and Melanie had graded me at 3.8, so I wasn't going to complain. Though I really wanted to take her to task about Lyndie, I knew she didn't want to risk not having a mage on staff. So for once in my life, I managed not to snark, got my grade, and left on good terms. Really good terms as she offered to hire me once I graduated.

  Thanks, but I'd have to be really, extremely, over the top desperate to agree to that.

  Even the thought made me nauseous. Dealing with people who whined all day long, even when no blood was spurting out of them, was not my cup of anything. Much less coffee. I'd pass.

  Monday, after a class devoted to hands-on medical practicum, Laurel Amosen had called me, asking me to arrive by eight am today. If my calculations were right, I should be there by seven-fifteen.

  The police station was only a ten-minute walk from Grind Down, so I'd left super early and grabbed three cups of coffee. Well, a refill in my mug and one to go cup each for Sam and the chief. I had no problem buttering up people when I needed to, and besides, at this point I knew for sure what they loved, and what they splurged on. They got their splurge drinks. And I still wasn't sure why they wanted me.

  Cori Catastrophe.

  The name hung in my mind as I walked into the station. We were a small town, but we still had an entryway to screen people. A cop I recognized but didn't actually know sat at the window working on something. He looked up and nodded at me, his eyes assessing.

  "Cori Munroe, right?"

  "Yes. I come bringing peace offerings for Samuel and the chief." I held up the cups of coffee and tried to smile winningly. From his smirk, I'm pretty sure I looked like a scared teenager, which wasn't far off. I felt like a scared teenager. Heck the last time I'd been in here I thought they were going to charge me with murder. It had not been fun.

  "I'll buzz you in. Sam isn't in yet, but the chief is. You know the way?"

  I didn't know if he was asking seriously or giving me a bad time, so I just nodded. A minute later I walked towards her office, this time paying a bit more attention to my surroundings. The walls were a boring beige that I really wanted to add some color to, and the desks all looked like they were refugees from old sixties television. I couldn't imagine how bad their backs hurt if they had to sit in those chairs for long. What made me bury my nose into my coffee cup and inhale the comforting smell of raspberry and mint was the odor of fear and sweat that seemed soaked into the walls. It made me want to run, even though I was supposed to be there.

  They need a good steam cleaning. Or an exorcist.

  The thought made me smile, imagining a man walking through with sage and incense, calling out all the bad odors and replacing them with good ones. Sage and rosemary would be a good start. If I had to work here, I'd so have those essence things on my desk.

  With my hands full I couldn't really knock, but her door was open. "Chief?" I stood there as she looked up from her phone. Had I really caught her playing games, that would be awesome. Proof she was human.

  "Come one in, Cori. Oh, is one of those for me?" Her eyes locked onto the tray I carried.

  "Yep. One for you and one for Sam." I set them down on the desk and rescued my mug from it.

  She glanced back down at her phone, and I realized a face was watching us from it, the fire chief. "Hey Martin. Cori's here so I'm going to go. Love you."

  "Love you too, babe. Don't be too hard on anyone today. I'll have dinner ready when you get home."

  The chief laughed. "I'll try. Mwah." With that she disconnected the video call and reached for the cup that had Amosen on it. "If this is what you bring every morning you'll make friends here fast."

  I was still sitting there, mug raised halfway, looking at her in shock. "You told him you loved him? He told you that?" I blurted out the words looking at her. The expression on her face tore at me a bit.

  With her cup in her hands she leaned back and looked at me, eyes serious. "Not everyone is like your parents or even the Guzmans. I don't think you've been around your parents enough as an adult to even know how they express love. And Henri and Marisol have been married for so long they probably have codes and actions that repeat those sentiments every day, you just have never thought about them. Telling people you love them is important. Especially when you are in our line of work. Every time we see them might be the last time."

  A trail of ice followed by a slimly sensation ran down my back and I shuddered, taking an overly large gulp of coffee and then choking. The chief just watched me and I couldn't read anything in her expression. When I had finished choking, and somehow managed to not spit up all over myself, she spoke.

  "You know I'm not your enemy, right? You're annoying and aggravating, and say things at the wrong time, but most of us in town have watched you with a bit of admiration and awe."

  "Wait what?? Why in the world would anyone be impressed with me? I'm a nobody. Or did you watch for the entertainment factor? To see what catastrophe I got into next?" Bitterness coated the last part of my sentence.

  Excellent, I went from incredulous to mocking in three seconds. New record. Someday I will learn to keep my mouth shut, or at least be polite.

  To my surprise Laurel chuckled. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get my shoulders to unclench.

  "Oh, part of it may have been that. You must admit you seem to go straight towards trouble or vice versa. If you had started this recently, I'd be pulling you in for mage testing. But I can't remember a time you weren't like this. So, I think it's just you."

  "So what would the other part be?" I felt like a cat watching something, not sure which of them was the predator.

  She sighed, got up, and to my surprise and discomfort, closed the door. Even more worried now, I watched her, waiting. But for what I didn't have the slightest idea.

  "By the time you were thirteen, your parents had quit being a factor in your life. You took the bus everywhere or walked. You made your own lunches, even forged your own school notes."

  I turned red at that. I hadn't thought anyone had noticed. But my parents just pretended they never heard me when I asked.

  "The school called me, and stores called me. I think I found you and your brother about three months before I became chief." She brushed that away like it wasn't important.

  "Why?" And I really wanted to know, why would anyone care, or was forging notes that big of a deal?

  "Child neglect. Borderline abuse."

  I didn't know how to react. Pretend like I had no idea what she was talking about? I tried, but my body reacted, sinking down and hiding behind my mug.

  "It was abuse, Cori. Parents are supposed to support their child, care about them."

  "So why didn't you do anything?" A year ago, even six mon
ths ago I might have shouted it. But right now I just asked, unsure I really wanted to know the answer.

  "We almost did. A bunch of times. But," she sighed rubbing her wedding ring. "They would have pulled you from the house, put you with strangers, dragged all of you to court, and for what? It wouldn't have woken your parents up. If that would have worked, your teachers reaming them out might have registered. It didn't. So we let you be. You were smart, competent, healthy, and we figured any more disruption in your life would be worse than leaving you there." She paused for a very long time staring at me. "Were we wrong?"

  Taking refuge in my drink, I closed my eyes, inhaled and thought. Maybe five minutes went by and she just waited. I appreciated that.

  "I think a thank-you is in order." I started to say more, but a knock on the door behind me had me twisting in the chair and glancing around as it opened.

  Samuel stood there his eyes locked on the coffee. "Do I smell what allows me to work this early morning shift? And is it mine?"

  "Well, your name is on it, but if the chief wants it, that's between you two."

  The woman had the gall to smirk and start to reach for it. Samuel lunged and grabbed, whirling away protectively, and the lid popped off and soaked the cop that was walking by. All four of us stood and stared. Laurel started to laugh. It was a deep rich sound, not mocking at all, which surprised me for a reason I couldn't explain.

  "You should've known better than do something like that around Cori. You're lucky it had cooled enough to not be dangerous."

  Sam looked at his cup, a look of great remorse on his face; the other cop just looked up at the ceiling, sighed, and said, "I'm going to grab my car and swing by the house and change. Okay, Chief?"

  "Go for it, Daniels. Sorry." She still sounded amused and I stood unsure at this new facet, or at least new to me, facet of the police chief.

  "As for you, Clements. Get our intern into her outfit and get on your patrol."

  The man whined looking at the empty cup.

  "You know, there's place that sells them. I bet you could get another one." I couldn't help the snark. "They even like me there."

  "Yes, but it wouldn't be as special. This was done by you, for me." He sounded heartbroken and I had to fight not to roll my eyes.

  "It was a bribe. I'll get you another," my voice dry.

  He jerked his head up and smiled at me. "In that case, let's get rolling, rookie."

  Chief Amosen cringed at him calling me a rookie. "Please try and remember she isn't a rookie, still just a civilian. And she has to fill out all the paperwork before she leaves this station." She handed me a folder at least a half inch thick.

  "Then get hopping. I have coffee bribes to receive," he said, his voice had a false brightness that made me want to take a step backwards. You know, just in case he had lost his mind and was about to go video game crazy on us.

  "Both of you, go," she said, a laugh still in her voice. "My coffee is just fine."

  "Cruel, mean woman. See what I have to put up with?" He turned and headed down the hall, waving at me to follow him.

  I paused at the door and turned back to look at her. "Chief?"

  She lifted her head from the computer screen to look at me.

  "You mind if someday I ask you about the day my brother died?"

  Something dark and scared flashed across her face, but she gave me a soft smile. "No. Any time."

  I ducked my head in thanks, then raced after Sam who was headed deeper into the station, not that it was that big. Twenty minutes later I wore a shirt that almost fit me, and had a bulletproof vest, a belt with a flashlight, handcuffs, a radio, a body cam, and not much else.

  There were other people in the class who'd complain about not getting a gun, or at least a taser. That didn't bug me at all. Shooting people held no interest for me. I wanted to help people, not take them down. Not kill them. For me, the radio would be my best weapon and the body cam a way to protect everyone, especially me.

  Chapter 24

  Familiars Hope Chest - in families where magic is common and familiars are often drawn to them, they keep what is called a hope chest - a small box much like a jewelry box, kept in the hope of attracting a familiar. Anyone with a familiar can use their own genetic material that is not attached to them. Hence the chest to keep nail clippings, cut hair, teeth, anything of theirs that someday could be used in an emergency. ~ Magic Explained

  I am so tired of signing paperwork. At this point everyone should know my social security number. If my identity gets stolen, I'll never know when it was taken.

  "Ready for your first day?" Sam asked, after I'd spent fifteen more minutes getting all the paperwork signed. The best part of that was the paycheck. Not much, just minimum wage, but it was money I needed and made it so I could breathe a bit easier knowing I wouldn't have to be begging from Jo.

  "I think so." The vest weighed a ton and I felt ungainly moving in it. "How do you guys run in these things?"

  "Lots of training. If you wanted to be a cop after you graduate, you'd still have to go through the police academy. It just lets you go up the ranks faster as you have the degree and more knowledge of what most people learn the hard way." He gave me a sideways look. "If you were willing to stay here, you'd have a pretty good chance. Most small towns have a hard time getting good officers."

  I followed him out to the squad car, looking at it with new eyes. "And you think I'd be a good one?"

  "Oh, I know you would. Disasters follow you, but I've never seen you lose your composure, get upset, or freak at what happened. That is a good quality in a cop. You also think, too much sometimes, but it means you'd probably never shoot someone because you were startled. Your first instinct isn't to draw a weapon."

  He paused as we slid into the car and he logged in, stating our location and what we'd be doing. With a grin he started up the engine and headed out. "Not drawing your weapon could be a bad thing in a dangerous situation, but if you made it through the academy, I have no doubt you'd be fine."

  I looked out the window. I'd never really thought about this for a real job. I'd always been focused on being a paramedic.

  "I don't know. Never really thought about it. But that doesn't explain you."

  "What about me?"

  "Why did you volunteer for this?" I didn't look at him as he drove, instead trying to see Rockway through the eyes of a cop. A different view than I'd ever had. Everywhere I looked I saw people and wondered who was about to break the law or do something that might get them or someone else hurt.

  "Being a cop? Or risking my life with you?"

  I jerked my head to glance at him, but all I could see was half a smirk as he looked straight ahead.

  "Yes." If he was going to be a pain, I could match him.

  "Point. I always wanted to be a Texas Ranger actually, but I didn't live in Texas and they have crazy requirements. So, I became a police officer."

  "Huh. Yeah, I can't see you in a Stetson. You'd look silly."

  "Gee, why did I want to do this again?"

  "That was my question in the first place. Why?"

  He pulled into in a convenient parking space in front of Grind Down. Shutting off the engine, he twisted in his seat to look at me. "You drive me crazy. You always seem to be at the center of anything going weird or funky. But you never make the same mistake twice, and you are calm under even the weirdest situations. I want you to succeed. I wasn't a police officer when Stevie died." I flinched at that, but he continued. "But I knew about it. Everyone did. I couldn't imagine holding any of my siblings as they died. You did and then you dealt with everything else life has thrown at you by busting your butt and working hard. So why wouldn't I want to do this with you?"

  My mouth had the consistency of damp cotton as it had fallen open in shock as he spoke. I closed it with a snap, looking at him and feeling my face heat up.

  "I, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't see any other options."

  Sam flashed me a smile as he opened
the door. "And that is why you impressed people. You have always looked for a way to be better. To answer your questions, to solve your own problems. It makes people want to help you. Now come on. I believe you owe me a bribe."

  I got out of the car, fighting the stiffness and weight of the vest. How in the world did they move in these things?

  But leaving the heavy conversation topic behind was fine by me. It was a bit much to take. "To be fair, I already brought you the bribe. You are the one that spilled it."

  "In a move that has never wasted a drop of coffee before. So therefore, it is your fault." He held open the door to Grind Down with a teasing smile as we walked in.

  "That is very unfair. How can I be responsible for your actions?" The teasing helped to remove the stress, but it flared back up at the wide eyes from Kadia and Carl as we walked in.

  "Everything okay, Cori?" Kadia asked, looking at us. Carl just looked worried, which made no sense.

  I looked down at myself. Polyester long sleeved shirt in the same style as Sam's but no emblems on it, black slacks, and black shoes. A bit monotone compared to my normal preferred style, but still nothing weird.

  "Yeah. I'm doing my internship with the police for the next few weeks."

  Relief flashed across both their faces. "Oh, yeah, I forgot. How is that going?" Kadia asked as Carl settled himself back down on the stool, the toe of his cast poking out from behind the counter.

  "What did you think I was doing, Kadia? And can you make Sam here another drink? His got spilled."

  "That isn't surprising around you." Carl's voice made the remark more stinging than it would have been from Jo, and I flinched.

  "Stop it or I swear I will break your other leg," Kadia snapped out. "I don't know what his issue is. He's been a crabby jerk all morning." She worked on Sam's drink and waved off my money. I didn't argue—Molly liked us drinking the stuff and treating the cops well.