She felt dizzy, like the world around her shifted. The ground beneath her feet fell away for a few seconds before reforming. When she opened her eyes, three human-looking half demons stared at her.
“I thought you said this chick didn’t like using her magic,” said a young woman with spiked magenta hair and tattoo sleeves. She put her hands on her hips and laughed. “That’s some entrance. I take it you’re Sabrina Thorpe.”
Sabrina notices several piercings. The young woman’s black bra showed through the thin, white tank top she wore. Baggy, black pants bunched up over thick, heavy boots made the studded straps hanging from her waist seem oddly appropriate.
Sabrina took her hand. A layer of magic crawled along her skin, not uncomfortable but certainly unpleasant. “And which sister are you?”
“I’m Salem. You met Marley yesterday. She’s the one we sent when the FedEx guy stopped by with that weird package,” Salem said brightly.
“There was a package?” Sabrina only remembered Marley bringing a coin.
“Yeah. Sorry, we opened it. I thought it was something for the store. Instead, there was just this odd coin and a note to give it to Hadrian personally. Weird, right?” Salem opened another box and scooped out a pile of foam packing peanuts. She lifted a handful of baggies. “Hey, Winston! I’ve got more jewelry!”
Winston stuck his head in the door. “Hey, Mrs. T! Oh, good. I’ve been looking for those.” He took the box. “That was a really cool entrance, Mrs. T,” he added before taking the box out on the sales floor.
Sabrina noticed the shop looked different and went to investigate the changes. Her mouth hung open at what she saw.
The tall shelves with large jars were gone. The white walls had a fresh coat of dark-blue paint. Metallic stars laid out like the night sky studded the walls. A new stencil graced the front door with the shop’s name and telephone number. Her name in neat block letters with the word “owner” sat underneath. The glass jewelry cases held new, bright-green velvet and white boxes. Glittering gemstones in the spotlights garnered attention. The apothecary jars with Aunt Eleanor’s handwritten labels had vanished, replaced with individual containers. The whole shop looked like a hippy hangout.
Sabrina swallowed hard and inhaled deeply. After all the drama at home, she was not sure she could contain herself. The place looked nothing like the shop she grew up in and loved.
“Before I forget to count to ten, where are the jars with the handwritten labels, and who in the hell authorized this?”
* * * *
Brandon came out of the house dressed in a pair of jeans and a pale-blue, short-sleeved button up shirt. His black casual shoes had the laces tucked in at the top. He patted down his pockets, checking for keys and his wallet before shutting the locked door behind him.
He looked around. “Where’s Sabrina?”
“Oh, honey, she did the most amazing bit of magic. That house is as safe as the apartment high-rise in Atlanta. I’m not sure I could have done it any better,”‘ Delilah said, sounding extremely pleased with herself.
“That’s good to know, and not what I asked,” Brandon pointed out. He noticed Hadrian walking back up the driveway with a bloody nose and empty-handed.
“What happened to you?” Brandon asked. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Hadrian.
“I trailed the intruder to the creek before she vanished. That’s some damn sickening sweet perfume she wears. Gave me a nosebleed, it was so strong. Where’s Sabrina?” Hadrian wiped blood off his face and glanced down at his shirt. A few large drops of blood ruined the front. “Damn,” he muttered.
Delilah sighed and waved her hand over the bloody mess, making it disappear. She did the same thing to his face and hair. Once finished, she smiled, flashing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. “Good as new! Now, darlings, tell me why I’m here,” she said.
“I called you because some of your magic unraveled. There are three different investigations going on as we speak within the Atlanta PD and the DA’s office. Our two missing business partners and their accounts are in the middle of an audit. They’ve been fingered as suspects in underworld crime, and we need to get that mess cleaned up,” Hadrian replied. He twisted the corner of the handkerchief up and stuck it up his nose on one side.
Delilah laugh high and loud. “Oh, very funny. My magic unraveled indeed. I do enjoy a joke, but I was in the middle of something,” she said, a small ring of fire forming around her feet.
“I’m not joking. I’m dead serious. Do you still have those two in your personal dungeon?” The older vampire stared at her with a straight face.
“Hell’s bells, you’re not kidding, are you?” She looked at Brandon and back to Hadrian. “Yes, I still have them. They’re a little worse for wear, but they’re alive. Let me work on getting them back and the magic patched up. I’ll make sure those two wouldn’t dare finger your organization for anything. That shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll catch up with you guys later,” she said. The ring of fire around her feet flared up to engulf her entire body. When the fire subsided, she was gone.
“At least she didn’t do that inside the house,” Brandon muttered.
“Nobody told me where Sabrina is,” Hadrian said. He fished his keys out of his pocket and found the right one for the ignition switch.
“I don’t know. She’s not inside, and she wasn’t in the yard when I came out. I asked Delilah, but all I got was a praise-fest on what a good job Sabrina did warding the house. Last time I saw her, she was wearing pajamas,” Brandon confessed.
He became concerned about her. Sabrina rarely left without at least leaving a note. Most of the time, she asked him to go with her. Tonight, she knew Hadrian planned to drop her off at work before running errands. As house-proud as Sabrina was, she was even more careful with her personal appearance.
“How in the hell am I supposed to protect her when she can just disappear at will?” Brandon wondered aloud.
“This is where trust comes in, my boy. She’s a big girl. Let her handle some things for herself,” the elder vampire replied.
Hadrian whipped out his phone, put it in speakerphone mode, and dialed. A moment later a young woman answered the phone.
“Mystical Charms, I’m Salem. How may I help you?”
“This is Hadrian. Have any of you seen Sabrina?” The deep voice sounded rough and a little worried.
Brandon grew more concerned.
“Oh, yeah. She got here just a little while ago. I don’t think she knew about the changes. She’s pretty steamed,” Salem said.
“Thank you, Salem. The night started off on the wrong foot. Just give her some space for now. We’ll talk to her about it later. Good-bye,” Hadrian said and shut off the phone. He stuffed back in his pocket.
Brandon hung his head. How could he forget to tell her about the new marketing plan for the shop? “I didn’t tell her. Things went downhill so fast last night, I forgot to say anything,” Brandon confessed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw clenched and relaxed, then clenched again.
“After the way things have gone over the last two days, you better get used to the couch, my boy,” Hadrian said, clasping a large on Brandon’s shoulder.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell her everything about Nemesis either,” Brandon blurted out in a hurry.
“Oh. I see. You might want to make that couch your car. And, uh, I’d hide anything sharp and wooden or silver if I were you,” Hadrian said with sympathy.
Chapter 7
“Oh hell no!” Sabrina exclaimed. “Redecorating the store without asking, stacking my aunt’s antique jars in a warehouse, and stocking the place with hippie crap is one thing. If you think for one second I’m wearing this, you’re out of your damn minds!”
Salem looked at the new uniforms. “What’s wrong with them? Everyone in Cali wears them.”
“This isn’t California. This is Sylva, North Carolina. If you think I’m going around with more body parts hangi
ng out than those strings cover up, you’re wrong. This place has been, and still is, the only shop for metaphysical supplies for miles these last seventy-five years. What makes you think the local covens are going to stand for this?” Sabrina tried to maintain her voice, but it cracked at times. She fought back the tears, determined not to cry.
Damn his presumptuous hide. He could have at least said something or asked.
Brandon’s hiring a firm to do market research seemed reasonable enough. She liked the idea of having a website and social media for the store. The problem came from the radical changes and not being informed or a part of the decision-making process. Concessions on the new stock made sense, but the New Age hipsters were a sore spot for Aunt Eleanor. Eleanor would never have allowed the redecorating and certainly not the uniforms.
The skimpy halter-top was backless with only a few thin stings zigzagging between the sides to hold it in place. The neon pink top went with a pair of hip-hugger Daisy Duke shorts in neon lime-green. The guys’ version included board shorts and a tank. The winter uniforms were tight, low-neck tees with the new store logo and black pants.
Sabrina felt sick. Witches traveled for long distances just to shop in their store. She knew most of the coven leaders by name and dreaded the thought of their reactions to this trendy new look.
“The data shows a big increase in New Age populations in this area. I mean, Asheville is practically a hub here in the southeast from those people. This marketing strategy works really well all over the country for this type of store,” Winston said as if reciting a well-rehearsed sales pitch. He took a step back when he finished his speech.
“I don’t think I can handle this tonight. Where’s Marley?” Sabrina asked when she noticed the third sibling was missing.
“She’s gone to Atlanta to pick up a shipment of shaped candles. We didn’t trust the shipping companies to truck those up in the summer heat and humidity. The company van will be air-conditioned the whole way. No more droopy tapers or melted rejects,” Salem replied.
“Van?”
“Oh, hey, I almost forgot! It came early this morning. Brandon wanted the store to have a fully loaded van for deliveries and supply runs. The graphics are great,” Winston explained. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and toed the floor nervously. His athletic shoe made a squeaking noise on the highly polished floor.
“Okay. Before I lose my cool, please tell me the two dead guys down the street are gone?” Sabrina changed the subject. Squeezing her eyes tight, she pinched the bridge of her nose and took a few deep breaths. She held the last one for a moment longer before letting it go and releasing her nose. She opened her eyes and waited for an answer.
“Oh, sure. Their buddies found them right after you left. A tow truck showed up and took the SUV. There weren’t any phone numbers to trace back to a company. I snagged the plate numbers on the vehicles. That came back to a dummy company known as a front for mercenaries. I’m not sure how this goes with the investigations in Atlanta, but somebody is seriously snooping,” Winston said. He opened another box and dumped out a pile of tie-dyed fabric.
Salem handed him a stack of hangers. She threaded them up her arm by putting her hand through the neck holes and pushing it out of the bottom. Once her arm was full, she grabbed a hanger by the hook and slipped the shirt over the plastic, padded bar. She handed them to Winston, who hung them on a round rack.
“You know, Mrs. T, those guys that followed you out of town had a ton of really sophisticated equipment in the back. No guns, though. Weird,” he said with a shrug.
“I don’t understand why that’s weird,” Sabrina said, feeling confused. Personally, she felt relieved to know the two guys breaking into the shop came unarmed.
“Because, Mrs. T, bad guys usually have guns. They also usually know that someone is in the joint before they try to break in and bug the place. They packed enough listening equipment in there for the entire street,” Winston pointed out. He did not even stop stocking a candle display with scented votives. The scales on his hands glittered under the lighting, reminding Sabrina of his demon heritage.
The idea struck her rather suddenly. “By the way, do either of you know Delilah?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t? She’s like a gazillion years old and related to practically everybody from the Nine Levels in some way or another,” Salem said, rolling her eyes in a way that screamed “teenager.”
Sabrina noticed. She let the rude gesture go and asked another question instead. “How old are you guys? I’ve got labor laws to consider. I don’t want anyone coming around accusing me of employment violations,” she said, trying to make the question seem more light than intrusive.
“I don’t remember,” Winston said. A puzzled expression crossed his face.
“Me either,” added Salem. “Huh. I haven’t thought about that in so long I’ve lost track of the time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. “Oh, well. Who cares? Our papers all say the same thing. We’re twenty-one this time around.”
“This time?” Sabrina wondered how many times Salem and her pink hair had to get new papers.
“Yeah. I miss the good old days. If you needed to become somebody else, you just picked up, packed up, and hit the dusty trail. Call yourself what you please and there you have it. New identities,” Winston said.
“Wait a minute. How did your mother name you after tobacco products if you’re that old?”
Salem frowned. “You just had to go blabbing about that, didn’t you?” She threw her gum wrapper at Winston.
“She’s the one that pointed it out to me, not the other way around,” Winston said in his defense. “Besides, we’ll get new names again in no time.”
Salem made a face at him and turned to Sabrina. “Mom reserves the right to rename us each time we need to shift locations. She usually picks names associated with the time or the places we go. Apparently, she has a fondness for cigarettes,” she explained, making it sound more like a complaint.
“Well, she would, wouldn’t she,” Winston said with a laugh. “She gets most of the tobacco bigwigs when they die.”
Sabrina looked at him, wondering how that worked.
Winston and Salem laughed.
“Demons have jobs just like everyone else. They work on different levels. Mom happens to work on the level most of those deceptive bastards go to when they snuff it. Her favorite punishment is to give them the diseases their tweaked products give others. Kind of poetic, don’t you think? To suffer and die over and over again for all eternity,” Salem said, popping her gum. She finished hanging the shirts and opened a box of long, gauze-like, matching skirts.
“Remind me not to upset your mother,” Sabrina muttered.
Picking up a small box off the floor at her feet, she turned it around several times, looking for the label. There was no indication what the box contained. A strong odor like rotten eggs emanated from the seams.
Sabrina wrinkled her nose and held the package at arm’s length. “This stinks. Why on Earth would you order anything with sulphur?” The aroma almost made her gag.
Salem’s brow furrowed and she cocked her head to one side. “We didn’t order—”
Winston cut his sister off by leaping over the boxes at his feet and snatching the small package from Sabrina. Before he hit the floor, he vanished. A loud noise came from the back alley moments later.
Sabrina and Salem rushed to the back door. The door refused to move.
With a swipe of her hand, Salem clawed the old wooden door out of its frame, leaving it in splinters scattered all over the room. “Winston! Winston, where are you!” Salem screamed.
A blackened hand rose from under a pile of burning debris.
Salem waved her hand to put out the flames. She rushed to his side, throwing pieces of wood and metal in every direction as she dug out her brother. “Winston, talk to me! Are you okay?”
His dusty head appeared. He helped move more twisted metal and wood off his body.
Standing up, he shook the dirt from his hair. His ruined shirt hung in tatters from his shoulders. Running his hands over his stomach, he pulled out a thick piece of wood. His skin healed immediately. “Yeah, I’m okay, but I think Mrs. T owes the neighbor a new Dumpster,” he said, looking around the alley. He snapped his fingers and replaced his clothes.
Sirens blared in the distance. In no time, red and blue flashing lights filled the streets. Firemen in full gear rushed into the alley. They escorted Sabrina, Salem, and Winston back to the main street and returned to ensure the fire really was out.
A police officer directed them to sit on the curb across the street from the store.
“They’re going to separate us and ask questions. We have to have similar stories,” Salem said, too low for human ears but loud enough for a supernatural.
“We’ll say we were clearing out some of the old cleaners and store stock. When I threw the leftover brimstone in the Dumpster, it blew. Make it sound like a chemical reaction,” Winston instructed. His lips barely moved.
“Where were we during all of this?” Sabrina asked, wanting to get all the details right.
“Inside putting out new stock. The story will match what they find in the store and in the chemical analysis of the Dumpster. It has to look like an accident. We don’t want them poking around the store. Oh, and Mrs. T, if they ask, you had those fangs done by Dr. Hadley in Atlanta,” Winston replied.
Sabrina gasped. It never occurred to her to have a cover story for her fangs. She had lived with supernatural creatures her entire life. The locals seemed to conveniently forget about little things like lack of aging and mysterious family trees that grew children and grandchildren without a population increase. They also failed to notice little things like pointed ears and otherworldly features. Staying outside of town in tight-knit communities meant safety and security as the rest of the world ignored backwoods places like Sylva.
Since transforming, Sabrina had remained isolated from the rest of the world in her high-rise penthouse apartment in Atlanta. No humans lived in the building. Shopping and going out occurred at night, while most of the city slept. Socializing took place among the other supernaturals and human familiars. There was never a need to hide who or what she was. The fangs were now a part of her, like the necklace.
The Jewel's Treasure Page 6
