by M. J. Scott
I switched out the bulb, then settled back on the couch, this time armed with one of my favorite comfort reads and real chocolate—one of my few expensive habits—rather than cookies. If I wasn't going to sleep, I might as well load up on caffeine and sugar too.
I got about a chapter in before the skin on the back of my neck started to crawl. I lifted my head, turning around slowly. Nothing behind me. There was no way there could be anything behind me. Our security system was the best we could afford, plus Damon had worked his computer—guru-fu on it. The building security was even better. I was just being an idiot.
But I couldn't settle back down to the book. Couldn't focus on the words. Something kept distracting me.
Eventually I got up and prowled around the apartment, opening doors and nervously peering into rooms and cabinets. And I found exactly nothing.
Despite that, when I’d returned to my nest on the sofa, I couldn’t shake the nerves. My eyes fell on my datapad. One quick call and Damon would come running—I hoped. If anyone could keep the bedbugs from biting and the bogeyman at bay, it was him.
Of course, then I'd have to worry about what having him in my bed might mean instead of worrying about make-believe things that went bump in the night.
Plus, what if Nat came home? I could hardly call the man over in the middle of the night only to kick him out again after we'd had hot sex. Nor could I come up with a plausible explanation to give Nat if I wasn't here when she got home.
"Suck it up, Maggie," I muttered to myself. My voice seemed to echo weirdly in the apartment and I shivered, then flicked the screen back to life. Only to be rewarded with a blank screen and static.
I thumped the control in frustration, and the picture slowly came into focus.
"Maggie."
I whirled. Nothing. The voice had been soft. Edge-of-hearing soft. Or maybe it hadn't been there at all. Goose bumps blossomed along my arms, all the fine hairs standing to attention. I smoothed them down with slightly shaking fingers.
"Stop being an idiot," I said firmly into the empty room, then reached over to raise the volume on the screen, nibbling on the chocolate bar to soothe my frazzled nerves. The noise of the brainless vidmercial did nothing to dispel the weird atmosphere.
"Nobody here but us chickens," I said firmly into the empty air. "So go away and bug someone else."
It didn't help. I jumped at every creak and groan and whir of the building around me. Several times I dozed off only to jerk awake, heart pounding, the sound of my name ringing in my head.
After the third time, I made myself tea and took it back to the couch, wrapping the throw tight around my body. The air in the apartment pressed in on me and I curled into a tighter ball, fighting to remind myself to breathe.
Nothing was here. I was alone. And safe.
Logically I knew it was true, but the rest of me wasn't buying it. I sat there for what felt like forever, until suddenly I relaxed as all the spooky sensations disappeared.
I stayed still for another few minutes, waiting for something to spook me again, but nothing did. Eventually I got brave enough to uncurl myself and do another round of the apartment.
Everything was perfectly normal.
"Okay," I said slowly when I reached my bedroom, exhausted. "Maybe it was just some sort of weird reaction to the meds they gave me. Or Cassandra's damn voodoo oil."
That sounded reasonable, but I wasn't really buying it. Instead, I grabbed my datapad and looked up Cassandra's hours. Lucky for me, she was open Sunday mornings.
"Think about it tomorrow," I told myself as I climbed into bed. It had been one of Sara's favorite sayings, stolen from her favorite ancient movie heroine. For once I found it comforting rather than annoying as I dropped off to sleep.
I didn't hear Nat come home, but a quick look into her bedroom when I forced myself to crawl out of bed after just a few hours of sleep revealed a mussed blonde head on the pillow.
At least one of us had a good night.
Now that the sun was up, I felt somewhat stupid that I'd let myself get so rattled. But I was also determined to talk to Cassandra.
Just to put my fears to rest once and for all.
I reached her store just after nine, feeling gritty-eyed and wrung out despite the two coffees I'd downed on the way.
The neighborhood around Cassandra's store still seemed sleepy. One lone café was open, though not exactly inviting with a security shield out front. Otherwise the streets were mostly deserted. Luckily Cassandra seemed to be an early riser.
Her door had an Open sign, and the buzz of her scanner brought her out from the back room in a flash.
Her eyebrows rose a little when she saw me. "Couldn't stay away?" she asked, settling herself on a stool behind the glass topped counter.
I shook my head. "I have a couple of questions."
"Looking at you, that doesn't surprise me. I thought I told you to ground yourself?"
"I did," I protested. "I used the herbs and everything."
She peered at me, an assessing expression on her face. "And maybe not just the herbs?" she asked with a grin.
I tried not to blush. "Does it matter?"
One shoulder hitched. "Maybe. Maybe not. Your aura looks a bit better, but your energy is all over the place. Did you rest at all?"
"I tried to."
Her eyes fastened on mine. It wasn't comforting. "Tried?"
"I woke up last night and couldn't get back to sleep. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but it felt like someone was watching me."
"Describe the sensation."
I crossed my arms, feeling cold again. "You know. Prickles at the back of my neck. Uneasiness. It's dumb, I know. I'm probably just tired."
Cassandra fingered the heavy silver pendant at her throat. "Did something specific wake you? A sound? Someone calling your name?"
"No . . . ."
"You don't sound terribly convinced."
"Nothing woke me the first time, but I kept thinking someone was talking just out of hearing."
"Do you often feel that way?" She pursed her lips, still twisting the pendant.
I shook my head. "No. No, I'm usually fine on my own. I'm not jumpy at all."
"But not last night?" She beckoned me closer and held out her hand. I took it and waited while she closed her eyes, humming softly to herself.
The sound was soothing, and the tension started flowing out of my body. By the time her eyes opened again, I was a lot calmer.
"Well? Could it be the demon? Or something like it?" I asked.
"There's nothing that makes me think something was trying to get to you. But it's possible. Something was speaking to your intuition, and that's not to be argued with. You're going to have to learn how to protect yourself."
"I'm good with a gun." I didn't own one, but I knew how to shoot one. Nat had made me go with her to the range a few times. She figured knowing how to fire the real thing might help her reflexes in the games. I'm not sure it worked, but both of us were decent shots.
She smiled and shook a finger at me. "Not that way. Psychically. Magically."
"But I don’t have any power."
She tilted her head. "Perhaps, but you can still learn how to keep your mind closed."
It sounded good to me. I didn't want to turn into someone who jumped at shadows and couldn't sleep with the lights turned off, so if whatever it was Cassandra was talking about could help, then I'd try it. No matter how much I disliked it, I'd never doubted that magic worked. "How fast can you teach me?"
"It depends on how good a student you are. It's not the type of thing you can pick up in a day."
Of course not. That would be too easy. "But you can teach me?"
She nodded. "It's something we teach everyone who has power, and the technique works for those who don't too."
I bit my lip, the thought of coming anywhere near the edge of real magic making me queasy. But not as queasy as the thought of a demon trying to invade my mind. "Okay."
"Your mot
her never taught you any of this?"
"No. I guess when I was little, she figured she'd take care of it for me. And after . . ." I stared down at the rows of crystals and jewelry lying neatly on black velvet under the glass counter as my throat tightened.
"After you turned thirteen?"
I swallowed. "Yes. After that, I guess there was no point."
The words made me feel sick. Whether or not what Cassandra suggested was true—and part of me still wanted to believe it wasn't—Sara had still written me off after my thirteenth birthday. She hadn't wasted any time trying to teach me anything in those last few horrible months. She'd barely spoken to me at all except to snap out an order or tell me to go to my room. Like the sight of me infuriated her.
"And anyway, she died not too long after that." I figured Cassandra knew my mother was dead if she'd known who she was. "My grandparents raised me. Neither of them had any power." At least not that they'd ever shown any hint of around me. It did kind of beg the question of exactly where Sara had gotten hers from.
"Even so," Cassandra said, "no child of a witch should grow up without knowing this. So you've got some catching up to do."
Great. It wasn't like I had a lot of spare time in my schedule right now. "I'm kind of busy with work."
"For this you can make time. Or do you want to be demon food again?"
I sighed. "No."
Cassandra gave a short nod. "Good."
"What do I do in the meantime? If it takes time to learn this psychic stuff, is there anything I can do between now and then?"
"Well, I could give you a bit of an energy boost." She waggled her fingers at me.
"You mean a spell?" I shivered, I couldn't help it.
"Not a spell. Just a gift." She tilted her head. "Then again, maybe not. There's no need to turn pale, child. I'm not going to cast a spell on you against your will. Relax."
I fought to lower my shoulders, feeling awkward. "I know. Sorry. It's just the thought of it. After all of this—“ I gestured vaguely, hoping Cassandra would understand—“it's too close to home." Magic had always held bad memories for me. Adding the knowledge I’d been bound against my knowledge hadn’t exactly improved my comfort level.
"I understand."
"Isn’t there anything else you can do?"
"Perhaps."
She pulled a key on a lanyard out of her pocket, inserted it on a lock on her side of the counter, and slid the tray of jewelry out. Her hand drifted gently over the pendants before pausing over a thick silver chain that had little purple stones glinting on either side of a thumb-sized chunk of something dark and shiny.
"Here." She held out the pendant. "This is black tourmaline and amethyst. For psychic protection. Also, ring your bed with salt."
I slipped the chain over my head. "A circle? Will that work if I'm not a witch?"
Cassandra locked the drawer. "It can't hurt."
Great. She was giving me the magical equivalent of a sugar pill. "Anything else?"
"More grounding. But not just sex. I'll give you more herbs. And you should go stand in a garden somewhere. Put your bare feet on the earth for a while."
"I live in an apartment." Though Damon had a lawn surrounding that great big house. Of course, getting my feet on that lawn would mean deciding I was ready to face Damon again, which I wasn't.
"Find a park," she said dryly. "I hear Golden Gate is starting to look good again."
Chapter Eleven
I stood in the park by the newly reopened Japanese Tea House, trying not to feel like an idiot for wriggling my bare toes against the grass. The air was heavy and sticky, backing up the storm warning my datapad had beeped at me earlier. Even barefoot, I was hot, so after thirty minutes or so, I headed home, stopping at the market to load up on sea salt.
I'd just made it to the apartment when the skies opened.
"The place still smells like that horrible oil," Nat said as I dumped my bags on the counter. "You need a different brand."
I sniffed the air. I could just faintly smell the oil, but it was hardly strong. "You could’ve opened the windows."
"It's hot," Nat grumbled.
"Not anymore." The temperature had dropped as the storm approached. I moved to the window, disengaged the weather screen, and pushed it open. The rain pelting down drowned out any noise from the streets below, and the air that flowed in smelled cool and clean.
"There." I turned back to Nat. "Did you win?" I asked to distract her. There were plenty more stinky herbs and oils where last night's had come from. She was just going to have to deal.
Nat's grumpy expression cleared. "It smoked. So good. You have to come to this club, Mags."
I grabbed a soda out of the fridge. "Maybe."
"How about tonight?" She looked like a little girl waiting to show off a new favorite toy.
I cracked the can open as thunder boomed. Going to a club in that part of town held zero appeal. Gaming in one even less. "Don't you have to work tomorrow?"
"Yes, but that's fine. I'm a big girl."
"I have to work too."
"They didn't give you any time off?"
"I'm fine," I said, then gave myself a mental head slap. Nat wasn't going to ease off her nagging to go out if she thought I was fully recovered. I pulled up the stool next to hers. "But I do have to be at work early."
"You're no fun," Nat said, but her tone was lighter than it had been.
"Gotta pay the bills. And hey, without my work, you wouldn't have had an in at Righteous." I closed my hand around the pendant Cassandra had given me. Talking about work made me think of Damon. My heart bumped up a notch or two as I tried to banish his face from my brain.
"What's that?" Nat leaned in, studying the necklace.
"This? Just something I saw in the market." I lifted out the chain so she could see the crystals.
She slanted her eyes up at me. "Not your usual style." Her hand stretched toward the pendant, then fell back before she touched it. "You turning hippy on me?"
"You can talk. You're the tofu queen."
"Yeah, but I don't wear tofu." She narrowed her eyes at the necklace as though she was planning to call the fashion police and have them forcibly remove it from the premises.
"Well, I like it," I said. I tucked the damn pendant underneath my shirt, out of sight.
Nat rolled her eyes. "So tonight? The club? What do you think?"
That I'd rather eat dirt than do anything but try and sleep alone in the apartment tonight. But I was supposed to be sensible. "Let me see how I feel."
"You said you were fine." She pouted at me. "C'mon, Mags. It’ll do you good to get out. Or would you rather hang around and wait for Damon Riley to call?"
My cheeks flamed. "Why would I be waiting for Damon to call?" The lights flickered as another round of thunder boomed. Perfect. A blackout was all we needed. "Maybe I just don't want to get fried by the storm."
Nat ignored my lame attempt to change the subject. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe something to do with why your message queue on the hub has his name five times today?" She waggled her eyebrows questioningly. "What's going on? You said you just crashed."
"I did." I swigged soda to hide my embarrassment.
"Neg to that. Guys don't call five times after you crash in their guest room. You doing the nasty with the boss, Mags?" Lightning illuminated her face, angling strange shadows across it for an instant.
"No," I lied. Or half-lied. There was nothing nasty about what Damon and I had done in bed. Quite the opposite. "He's probably just calling to see how I am."
"O-kay. If you want to play it like that. But that's one concerned boss." She clearly didn't believe me.
"He's just protecting his investment. I'm working for him," I reminded her, not liking how this conversation was going. "And so are you. Tomorrow's Monday. We both have to work. That's the only reason I don't want to go out."
"Nice try. You can't change the subject quite that easily." She tapped a nail on the countertop. "You're hid
ing something. If it's not Damon, then what? Is it your chip? Something about why they had to jack it?"
I considered whether I should tell her the truth. She was my best friend. It wasn’t like she was going to disown me if I told her I'd been under a spell, but the thought still made me uneasy. Particularly when she seemed to be in a strange mood. "I had a weird reaction. The doctor said he thought it would be safer to just remove it."
"Was the chip defective? Are they looking into it?"
"They don't know. And yes, I think so. What's with the third degree? You didn't think I was going to turn into a game-head just because I got a chip, did you?"
Her eyes seemed to flash in time with the lightning. Just for a moment. "No. But you have to admit it's weird. I don't know anyone who's had to have their chip removed."
I drained the rest of my soda and crushed the can. I fed it and the other waiting trash to the recycler. "Sometimes things just happen."
Nat shook her head as the unit rumbled to life. "You have the right to know. You should find out."
"I will, eventually."
Nat didn't look like she was ready to drop the subject, and I could only think of one thing that was likely to distract her, much as I disliked the idea. "So. This club. Where is it, and can we be home by midnight?"
Nat was preoccupied in the cab, staring out the window with a slightly dreamy expression, a half smile drifting over her face at intervals as we wound our way down through the city to the bay.
After the quake and the rising water levels, a lot of the former Fisherman's Wharf buildings had been abandoned as their owners decided higher ground was a better option. Even Ghirardelli had decamped. Most of the piers farther up the Embarcadero had been repaired, revamped to suit the new shoreline, and reopened, but around Jefferson and the Marina, things had lain where they fell or succumbed to the waters.
The area had gone downhill until a few enterprising souls moved in and stabilized a few buildings here and there along the water, opening clubs of various degrees of legality. Dancing. Gambling. Gaming. Sex. You name it, you could get it down here—if you weren't overly concerned with personal safety and the company you kept.
