He finished his glass of scotch in a single gulp. “Look, Miss Dandridge, I know I’ve been a difficult client. But I believe in your abilities. If you can get ole Ebenezer Clarke married, then you’ve got a fighting chance in my regard.”
The waiter swooped in with a fresh drink like he’d been waiting for the exact moment Cramer emptied his cup.
Her client continued to speak. “I’ll be traveling for the next few weeks in the fifth dimension performing a great incantation with some associates. I expect to hear from you when I return. If all goes well, I’ll confer glowing recommendations to my colleagues in the Supernatural Council.”
Tessa hid her pleasure with a short smile. “Why, thank you.”
Inside she flipped across the dining room floor—heels, skirt and all. Getting your name mentioned in the Supernatural Council was like making it big in Hollywood. No more waiting tables hoping for the big break, just red carpet events and rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. Well, the rich and famous that raised the dead and howled at the moon. Her crossed legs twitched nervously, but she managed to sip her white wine and smile during the appropriate moments as the lunch concluded.
They parted ways outside of the restaurant and Tessa tried to stay optimistic, even with his dire warning nipping at her heels. After several months of courting a member of the Supernatural Council, she couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity. All of her time and investment had to result in a positive outcome so she could get more clients.
Now that she’d temporarily placated him, her next step was to catch a cab to the parking garage. She had a long trip to Jersey to meet with yet another client. This was one of those particular moments she wished she could teleport places, but instead, like every other young witch, Tessa used the car her family bought her or hiked in high heels. She could’ve bought a staff or some other magically imbued object to travel in style, but the majority of her money was tied to her business.
After a short cab ride, she reached the garage and headed for her parking spot. Her fingers dove into the bottom of her purse for the keys. Using magic to travel long distances offered advantages, but it didn’t replace the normalcy of traveling like a regular person. A city girl like Tessa loved hopping into a car, turning on the radio, and singing off-key to her favorite sappy love song. As she rounded the corner, she finally located her keys and stopped abruptly in front of her parking space.
Her empty parking space.
CHAPTER THREE
Dating Tip #6: Wood nymphs are easy to piss off. I don’t recommend a bonfire dinner by the beach. You may be using her sister’s home as kindling.
As Tessa stared at the empty parking space, hundreds of scenarios ran through her head: was her car stolen, did she park somewhere else, or maybe someone towed it away?
The scent of cinnamon hung in the air, wafting from the position where her Honda Civic Coupe should’ve been parked. A spell had been cast.
“Sssssshit! Shit! Shit!” Cursing loudly would’ve been much preferred under the circumstances, but a loud hiss worked instead.
The smell of cinnamon and a missing car meant only one thing: Her car had been repossessed. And tucked inside a locked box in her back seat had been one of the lifelines for her business: a magical object called a Smythe Scroll.
Thanks to the trust fund from her grandmother, Tessa had been able to use a sizable part of it to purchase the old magical parchment. The scroll was indispensable for anyone who needed to contact magical creatures who preferred to live in the Dark Ages. If you needed to contact crazy Uncle Elmer who lived in a cave outside of Vancouver, then a Smythe Scroll offered mystical instant messaging. Tessa’s only method of contacting Cramer was gone.
She seethed as she paced around the vacant space. The fast and hard clicks of her heels echoed through the garage. Getting angry wouldn’t solve the problem, but it would damn well make her feel better. She’d hired someone to cast a pretty powerful spell to keep the curious and other minor spellcasters away.
Their magic had failed. Big time.
This whole situation never should’ve happened. She was usually on point for these kinds of things.
Tessa checked to see if any curious eyes lurked about. A lone car pulled out of a parking spot. She waited for it to leave before examining the signature of the spell. With a delicate dabble in the magical residue, she pulled a stark cream-colored notice:
ATTENTION: YOUR PROPERTY HAS BEEN REPOSSESSED
Based on the orders from our client, HOLDSTEAD FINANCIAL GROUP, your vehicle has been repossessed. Please contact the Municipal Supernatural Court for information regarding associated repossession fees, towing charges, and Limbo storage fees.
Contact them my ass! She imagined the ridiculously long line at the courthouse, especially since magical red tape was much worse than the regular red type.
Standing around and mumbling to herself seemed like a viable option, but Tessa called Danielle instead.
“What’s up?” she chirped. “I bet the meeting with Cramer went better than you expected.”
“Oh, the meeting went fine until I discovered afterwards that my car is missing.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I really wish I was. It’s been repo’d! Look, can you find out for me the name of the repo company used by Holdstead Financial Group for recollections?” Tessa rested her free hand on her hip and tried to think about anything else other than her career taking a death-dive off the nearest building.
“Sure, you know I love a challenge.”
Tessa walked to the garage elevator. “Thanks Danielle, I need a stiff drink.”
The rapid clicks of keystrokes echoed through the phone. Danielle moved quickly.
Her assistant joked, “You’re in New York, why do you need a car?”
“I left the Smythe Scroll in the back seat.”
She groaned—a rare noise from her. “Ouch.”
“My words exactly! Call the client in Jersey and tell him I need to reschedule today’s meeting for later this week.” At least one of her clients picked up a regular phone.
“No problem. Go get your drink.”
After a few drinks—which hadn’t helped Tessa forget her troubles—she got a text message from Danielle. It included her destination. After a quick cab ride, she found it quickly.
Not long after, she found what she wanted. Nestled between a Nigerian restaurant and Hair for the Modern Woman Salon, she spotted Clive’s Magical Repossession. It was a hole-in-the-wall establishment in the Park Slope area of Brooklyn. She’d never visited Park Slope before. A plastic red and white sign with etchings of glamour marked the office to humans as Clive’s Recovery.
Tessa swung open the door to the shop and entered the stuffy office. A white-haired warlock stood behind a worn pine counter keeping busy with piles of paper. The files shifted from pile-to-pile as one hand dragged and dropped, while another signed contracts with a bright red pen.
She stepped forward. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but your company repo’d my car a few hours ago.”
The man squinted at her and the progress of the papers halted in mid-air. “Your name?” he wheezed.
“Tessa Dandridge. I have a Honda Civic.”
His right eyebrow rose, then he scratched his nose. “Ehh, I sent Rob on the Holdstead job this morning.” The papers commenced marching again as he continued. “He went to fetch some stuff from the storage room, but he’ll be back in a few minutes. He can get you the paperwork so you can head down to the Municipal Supernatural Court.”
“Head to court?” She shook her head and opened her purse. “I’ve heard too many stories from family members about spending a few years waiting in line to pay fees. Can’t I write you a check and then you can give me back my car—”
“Nope! Have a seat please and wait for Rob.” His gaze returned to his paperwork.
Tessa closed her purse and bit her lower lip. While she waited, she took in the office, looking for a place to sit. She spied a
single seat in the corner with a horrible mustard-colored pattern that gave her flashbacks to the seventies. An old TV sat on a dirty end table with its antenna covered in aluminum foil. Folks still did that, even with digital TV reception available?
On the TV a scantily clad young woman bounded across the stage to wallop her balding overweight lover in the face. The show was a rerun of the Jerry Springer program. Visitor entertainment, perhaps? From the corner of her eye, she caught the old warlock steal a glance at the TV. Apparently, the owner of Clive’s Magical Repossession enjoyed watching people lose their common sense on national television.
What kind of boss allowed working conditions like this? With a frown, Tessa strolled across the worn carpet to the water dispenser. The water was the cleanest thing in the room. After grabbing a fingerful of dust, she confirmed the paper cups had likely been used by the first settlers to New York. Using a tissue from her purse, she cleaned it.
She poured in a few drops and nearly dropped her cup as a tall glass of witch’s brew walked through the door behind the counter. After placing his overflowing box of items onto a free spot on the floor, their eyes met and a moment of recognition hit.
She’d seen this guy before.
His backside, anyway.
Tessa faked a sip from her cup, but her eyes rebelled and traveled where a lady shouldn’t be openly gaping—at all.
He shifted from one leg to another. “Can I help you?”
Did he catch her staring this time? She fingered her bracelet and spouted a mantra in her head, “Desperation isn’t attractive unless it has on a shorter skirt.”
Tessa’s inner business maven jumped in. “Hi, my name’s Tessa Dandridge.” She reached to shake his hand. He didn’t take it. “That kind gentleman behind the counter told me I should talk to you in regards to the Honda Civic your company repossessed recently.”
His stony face never twitched as she pulled back her hand. He finally spoke after a brief moment. “I’ll get the paperwork. The Municipal Supernatural Building is located—”
“Look, you seem like a nice guy.” Tessa pasted her most brilliant smile on her face in the hopes of winning him with kindness. “I know how the Municipal Supernatural System works. I don’t have the time to wait in line before I get the car back. How about I write you a check for the debt right now and you can pass it along to the company so I can retrieve my car.”
A devilish smirk broke out on his face as he ran his fingers through his black hair. A few messy strands rested over his ears and forehead. As his tattooed arm came back down, the biceps clenched. Tessa blinked a few times to distract herself. A part of her imagined him as tasty steak sizzling on the grill. And she wanted to take a bite.
“Even if I wanted to fetch your car, I can’t. It’s in Limbo.”
“Well, if you put it there, I’m sure you can just…” She gestured with a swirl of her hand. “…pull that puppy right out.”
“Limbo doesn’t work that way. I have the power to add items, but in random places. Now as to a quick retrieval, you’re at the mercy of the dwarves at the Supernatural Municipal Building. They ultimately control access to Limbo.” He crossed his arms, daring her to reply.
“I see, well, if you could hand me—” She barely uttered a word before the older man behind the counter directed a pile of papers in her direction.
Thoroughly dismissed by two repo men. Now that was a first.
As Tessa watched his retreating back, she tried to buck up and go over a mental list of the positive points in her life—other than the missing scroll. She had friends. She had a place to live. And her business burned through money like crazy. Positive thinking wasn’t her strong point this evening.
Those warlocks who’d brushed her off didn’t help her mood either. Maybe she should’ve emphasized how dire the situation was. Either way, hadn’t the guy behind the counter checked her out earlier? Wouldn’t he want to be a gentleman and offer a lady a hand?
Entering the cab, she brooded. Her grandmother wouldn’t have had these kinds of problems. Yet, with confidence, her Grandma Kilburn had pushed her into the world of matchmaking three years ago.
She could hear her now. The memories from her graduation dinner never faded. “Straighten up in your seat, Tessa,” her grandmother had said. “Surviving in the real world isn’t an exact science, you know.”
On the day after her college graduation, Tessa enjoyed dinner with her family, all the while ignoring the stench of burnt lamb her mother prepared. To hopefully impress Grandma. No matter how much her mom tried, even the best-casted spells on the pots and fine china couldn’t cover the sad truth that her mom couldn’t cook.
Her mom refused a caterer, hell-bent on staying in the good graces of Grandma Kilburn by cooking the meal herself.
A huge grin spread across Aunt Lenore’s face as she pushed her plate of pumpkin cookies toward Grandma’s matriarchal seat at the head of the table. Tessa’s other four aunts and mother lined the sides of the fifteen-person dining room table set with Tiffany china. They cowered like advisers from an ancient Chinese emperor’s court awaiting the next royal decree.
“Daisy, why do you wear that awful sweater all the time? You’ll never find a good man wearing something so matronly,” Grandma scolded. Her transparent graying form stirred. Not good to rub a rich ghost the wrong way.
As usual, Aunt Daisy would smile as if Grandma had told a great joke and reply, “Oh, Mom. I haven’t met the right guy yet.” She straightened the neckline of the over-sized forest green sweater as she used the fork in her right hand to stab her salad.
Aunt Daisy worked with a tax firm that rubbed elbows with Chicago’s supernatural elite, but based on the fashion choices Daisy made from day-to-day, Tessa would have to agree that her aunt plunged headfirst into spinsterhood.
Tessa might’ve inherited money from Grandma’s undead will, but she sure as hell hadn’t inherited her barbed tongue.
“Gertrude.” Grandma turned to Tessa’s mom. “Why ever don’t you have a graduation cake for Tessa? I’m too dead to eat, but I don’t see why everyone else has to suffer from your cooking.”
“Well, I—”
“You act as if you never planned an event before.” Grandma Kilburn addressed Tessa’s father. She kept everyone on their toes. “Jacob, have the cook run out to the store and fetch my granddaughter a cake.”
Her dad nodded with a smile, but Tessa tried to be the peacemaker. “Grandma, I don’t need a cake. There’s plenty of food and Aunt Lenore made your favorite cookies.”
“All right, if you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
Aunt Daisy smiled. “Tessa, are you sure you won’t reconsider the business analyst position?”
During her junior year, Tessa spent a brief summer internship at her aunt Daisy’s office. After graduation, her aunt expected her to work for them. She dreaded the thought of countless days of boring rows of numbers and ledgers.
Grandma’s transparent form darkened as the ghost addressed Aunt Daisy. A chill spread across the room. A common occurrence when Grandma got mad. “I told you she’s not joining the firm. My granddaughter’s going to New York City to start a business as a matchmaker.”
With her grandmother’s blessing and financial backing, Tessa set her plan in motion. At the time, she’d been so energized with the possibilities. She could help people and make a living at the same time. That type of prospect offered more scenarios for fulfillment than project specifications and business plans to create cost effectiveness. But even with her new business, she wanted—no, needed—companionship.
After a day like today, though, Tessa wondered if she’d ever find it for herself.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dating Tip #17: Never change into a werewolf on the first date. Some dates need time to adapt to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Furry.
Two days later, Tessa sprang the news to the entire agency.
“Ok, ladies, the Smythe Scroll is missing. That means we have no way to contact Cr
amer. I have a few weeks until Cramer told me he’d return. Are there any other clients that we can only contact through the scroll?”
Her morning meeting with the staff started with the most important business. Naturally, Danielle smiled in what could be considered an oh-shit moment. “I already looked up the information. Don’t worry. We need the scroll to contact seven clients.”
“And how many of them need arrangements within the next couple of weeks?”
She looked down at her notes, avoiding Tessa’s gaze. “Oh, all of them.”
“I see… How about we go through all past correspondence and any phone logs to see if we can recover any contact information? That sounds like something for you to try, Ursula.”
The intern nodded and made a note.
“Now, we need to proceed as if nothing is wrong with the agency at this point. We’ll have to suck it up and use our computerized system for all clients from now on. If the client says we need to use magic to contact him, he needs to provide an emergency number in case our spell ‘fails’ to contact him.”
They nodded in agreement.
“I think we may be able to establish some contacts through networking,” Danielle suggested.
Over the past two days, Tessa had gone from angry to frustrated to determined. A lost Smythe Scroll wouldn’t be the end of her business. There had to be some way to retrieve the scroll before Cramer, or any of the other six clients, wondered why her agency hadn’t contacted them.
A pain bit into her stomach, but she held herself in check. Even though she couldn’t shake away a single thought: All of her hard work to establish her business might’ve been for nothing. Maybe she should’ve set up shop in small-town Illinois. She snorted. Not as many bachelors, but at least the rental space costs would be manageable.
Once the meeting ended, Tessa escaped to her office for some privacy. Her assistant followed, always a hovering and protective friend.
Repossessed Page 2
