Queer Magick

by Davis, L. C.

  He was right. He wasn't lying. I knew how he lied, the way his mouth tilted a little on the left side, like it always had when he said, "I love you," but that didn't mean I was ready to hear the truth any more than I had been then.

  "You're a fucking asshole," I snarled, grabbing him by the collar.

  "Go ahead," he purred. "Hit me, if that's what you need to do. I'll be honest, I felt more for you when we fought than I ever did when you were inside of me."

  I let him go and recoiled from him, afraid of what I might do if I stayed that close. "Why? If I was just a game, why play with me so much longer than you did with the others?"

  He seemed to be considering it for a moment before he shrugged. "I guess I just got addicted to the anger," he murmured, his gaze traveling me up and down. "It does suit you. Too bad my type has changed. That new guy in town, on the other hand... I've heard you're friends, but I suppose it would be too soon if I asked you to introduce us?"

  "Stay the fuck away from Holden," I growled. "Besides, you're not gonna have time for distractions. Your run for Council won't be uncontested."

  "Is that so? A show of dominance, just like old times," he mused, opening the door. "How homoerotic."

  "Go to hell, Dennis."

  A slow smile spread across his lips. "Oh, I'm already there."

  The night air stung my face once I made it outside, but I took the long way around town before circling back to my place. I didn't trust myself to be alone with my thoughts without some outlet, and a brisk walk to nowhere in particular, as long as it was away from Dennis, was just what I needed.

  I pulled up my jacket collar and touched my neck when my hand brushed something wet. I looked down at my hand to find a few droplets of blood clinging to my fingertips. "What the fuck?" I murmured, glancing back at Dennis' office only to find the lights out.

  I was still struggling to process what had happened in that office, but in that brief, ill-planned encounter, I had gotten closer to the truth than I had in thirteen years. Whether he had meant to or not, he'd given me a thread to grasp onto and I wasn't about to stop until I had unraveled the mystery that was Dennis Mills, even if there was nothing left of either one of us by the end.

  Eleven

  HOLDEN

  I expected some further harassment from Locke after that initial sales pitch, but I hadn't gotten so much as a robo call. Nick had backed off, too. It looked like Daniel had followed through on his promise to talk to him, which was good since I hadn't had much luck with the apartment search. Locke's words still had me shaken and the timing of the letter I received in the mail the next day was a bit too coincidental. The letter purported to be from one of the lawyers who had handled my settlement case, and she claimed my father's lawyer had put in a request for an appeal hearing. I still wasn't sure what that meant, but I knew it wasn't good and had half a mind to pay a visit to the town attorney to find out.

  Nick's warning was still fresh in my mind, but if anyone knew better than to accept gossip and hearsay as gospel, it was me. Besides, Nick's idea of dangerous was questionable at best and I was beginning to have second thoughts about venturing too far from Stillwater. If Locke was right about these streets being unhallowed ground, maybe it wasn't the worst place I could be, especially if the Nick situation was under control.

  Besides, I was starting to get attached to my little apartment. As I sipped my morning coffee, reading over the letter for the hundredth time, I decided to open the balcony door for some fresh air. I gasped when the white cat I had saved hopped up onto the railing, trilled and darted into my apartment, his tail lashing the air.

  "Well, hello to you, too," I muttered, shutting the door behind me as I followed him back inside. The cat trotted over to my bed, jumped up and started grooming himself like he owned the place. I reached out, letting him sniff my hand before I stroked his cheek and ran my hand down his pristine white fur to find that there wasn't a trace of the wound that had so nearly taken his life. "Wow. I'm good."

  He purred loudly and headbutted my hand, nearly falling off the bed when I pulled away to get dressed. I could feel someone watching me and when I turned around, he was licking his paw innocently where I'd left him. Mysterious intruders and psychic suitors were seriously starting to make me paranoid.

  "Come on," I said, gathering the cat into my arms before I headed out the door with the letter stuffed into my jacket pocket. The cat gave a cry of alarm but I held him close to my chest, ignoring his struggles. "Sorry, but I need you as evidence." I hoped I'd catch Daniel out and about since it was the warmest day we'd had all week and the town square was teeming with people.

  Apparently, the good doctor hadn't gotten the memo. I headed over to his clinic with the cat struggling inside of my jacket, since that was the only way I could keep him from scratching my arms. "Sorry, but I have an I-told-you-so to deliver."

  He let out a low "mrooowww" but settled down like he understood. Or maybe he had just realized he wasn't escaping anytime soon. I walked into the clinic and the bell jingled overhead, announcing our presence. There was no one in the front room, so I took the chance to look around. I realized it was a nice clinic when I wasn't panicking about having a dying animal in my arms. In fact, he'd made such a complete recovery I was pretty sure I was the one in danger. He was a strong little bugger.

  "Holden?"

  I looked up from the brochures about distemper and heartworms on the wall, smiling when I saw Daniel coming towards me in his full veterinary regalia, which was pretty much just a lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck, but he still looked professional.

  Yeah. That was the word. Professional.

  "Hey. Guess who showed up on my balcony."

  He glanced at the struggling cat in my arms, cocking an eyebrow. "Yeah, he's been making the rounds. Guess he doesn't remember you saved his life."

  "So you believe me now?"

  He hesitated, walking over to prod the cat's side. "I mean, it's definitely the same cat. I don't believe it was magic or anything, but whatever you did seems to have worked."

  "That's very rational of you," I teased. "And here I was coming to gloat."

  He grinned. "Can't say I'd pass up the opportunity myself. While you're here, you want me to look him over?"

  The cat struggled more fiercely than ever, hissing.

  "Whoa," said Daniel, reaching out to scruff him. "Careful, they can do a lot of damage. This one's vicious."

  "He was a lot sweeter when he was dying," I agreed.

  The cat went stiff in Daniel's grasp but when the vet held him close, he turned to a fluffy white ball of purrs. I followed Daniel into the office that had very nearly been the cat's final resting place and watched in fascination as the doctor set him on the table and stroked his fur.

  "Wow. You're good with animals."

  "Guess it's only fair since I suck at people," he muttered. "Mind closing the door? Something tells me he's a runner."

  "Sure," I said, pushing it closed. "What's he in for?"

  "Well, now that he's decided to join us in the land of the living, he should have a basic exam. I can't send him home with you without his rabies shot at the very least, and this time, I know where to find you if you run," he said with a halfhearted glare.

  I laughed. "I've left the catnapping life behind, I swear. But I don't know about keeping him. Mrs. Marrin was pretty clear about there being no pets allowed in the lease."

  "Oh, she's all bark," he said, shining a light in the cat's green eyes. "One look at anything furry and she melts, but I can talk to her if you want to keep him."

  "I guess it would be nice to have company. Although a guard dog would probably be more useful."

  Daniel looked up. "Guard dog? Why, did something happen?"

  "No," I said quickly, deciding he was the last person who needed to hear about my strange encounter with the demon Locke. I felt bad enough for burdening Daniel with my backstory, never mind my present drama. "Nothing, the farmhouse is just a little remote."


  "It is," he agreed. "If you're not gonna take him, I'll hand him over to my friend who works at the county shelter. Those woods aren't safe."

  "What's out there?" I asked warily.

  "Remember when I said we don't get coyotes?"

  "Yeah..."

  "That's because there are wolves." He sighed. "Ask Fish and Wildlife about it and they'll tell you a different story, but I've seen enough missing pet posters around here to know otherwise."

  "You think that's what got him before?"

  He shrugged. "It wasn't a coyote, I'll tell you that."

  "I don't want anything to happen to him, salty as he is, and it's sad to think about him winding up in a shelter," I said, looking down at the cat who was giving me big, watery puppy eyes all of a sudden, even though he'd been trying to fillet me a few moments ago. "If you can convince Mrs. Marrin, I guess I can look after him."

  "Great. I'll tell you what, you can bring him here free of charge since I kind of feel responsible for almost putting him down."

  "You might still get the chance if he doesn't chill out," I said dryly.

  The cat "mroww'd" again.

  "They pick up on tone," he said with a laugh, giving the cat's head another rub. He leaned in and the purring grew louder, cutting off abruptly when Daniel slipped the cap off a syringe and grabbed the cat's scruff. The animal let out an awful yowl, but the shot was over in an instant and he quickly succumbed to Daniel's conciliatory pets. "You're gonna have fun with this one."

  "Lucky me."

  "What are you gonna name him?"

  "Cat isn't good enough?"

  "It does have a certain minimalist quality to it. First things first," he said, lifting the cat's leg and getting a spitty hiss in response. "Yep, definitely a he. Kind of hard to tell with the fluffy ones."

  The cat glared.

  I gave an awkward laugh. "Yeah, I wish people were like that."

  Daniel stared blankly at me and I realized how weird that sounded, but it was too late to take it back, so... "Um, any ideas for a name? I'm not all that creative."

  "There's always Lucifer," he teased.

  I shuddered and it was only half fake. "Angels give me the creeps, to be honest."

  Daniel gave me a strange look, but considered it for another moment. "He's kind of an asshole. You could always go with something ironic like Puff or Duchess."

  "Puff," I snickered. "I like that."

  "Then here's Puff's rabies tag," he said, dropping the small red piece of metal into my palm. "You want me to chip him while I'm at it?"

  I hesitated. "That's not a half-bad idea."

  Puff recoiled and arched his back, hissing at Daniel.

  "Er, maybe another day," I decided. "I think he's been traumatized enough."

  "Normally I would take his temperature, but..."

  "Yeah, I think he's fine," I said, gathering the cat into my arms again.

  "Here," Daniel said, pulling a crate out from the closet. "You can use this."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah, I've got a ton of them. Just do me a favor and make sure he's locked up in that the next time you bring him in?"

  "Yeah, alright," I laughed. "Oh, before I go, I wanted to say thanks."

  "For what?"

  "I don't know what you said to Nick, but he hasn't bugged me since we talked last."

  Daniel frowned. "Actually, he hasn't been returning my calls. I was gonna stop by the post office later to check on him."

  "Oh," I murmured. "Guess he finally got the hint."

  "I don't suppose you've given any thought to what I said?"

  "I have," I admitted, opening the door to the crate as Daniel pushed Puff inside with no shortage of struggling and growling. "I've been weighing the options and I think I'm going to end up staying in Stillwater."

  "Well, you do have a dependent now," he teased. "It's probably good to put down roots."

  I snorted. "Anyway, I'd rather not have Nick Whitaker as an enemy if I'm gonna stick around, so I guess I'll try to talk to him. I still want to know how he hypnotized me, at the very least."

  "Yeah, if you can get that out of him, I'd like to know, too."

  "I will," I promised, picking the crate up by the handle. Puff seemed to have given up on escape for the moment. "Thanks, Daniel. It was good to see you again."

  "You, too," Holden," he said, showing me to the door as a woman walking three small dogs all attached to the same hot pink leash strode in. I gave him a pitying look and headed out into the town square with my new pet in tow. At least this was the only time I'd have to walk him.

  "Can you believe Dennis is running for Town Council?" one woman whispered to another, although she said it loud enough that the harsh tone could easily have been heard from across the street. I followed their salacious stares to the blond-man in a nice suit striding purposely down the sidewalk, a box from the bakery under his arm. I couldn't see his face, but there was something familiar about his gait that filled me with excitement and dread at once.

  No. There was just no way. It couldn't be him. There had to be what, a hundred Dennises in the area? A thousand? It wasn't John or Chris, but it was a common enough name. It couldn't be him.

  "Hi, Holden," Carla called, waving to me from across the street before she disappeared into the market.

  Shit.

  Twelve

  HOLDEN

  I froze in my tracks when I should have run, but there was no escape once those familiar blue eyes found mine. Those baby blues were even lighter in the sunlight and while I had hoped he wouldn't recognize me in my normal clothes, the recognition in them dashed that hope instantly. He cocked his head to the side and I tried to will myself to move, to walk, to do anything other than stand there gaping at him like an idiot, but it was like the soles of my shoes had melted into the pavement.

  He was in front of me before I could process him having moved at all. "Holden," he said while I was still struggling to formulate a coherent thought, let alone a sentence, "I guess I should be embarrassed for being the only guy in the bar who gives his real name."

  I swallowed hard but it felt like my throat had been coated with glue. "I...um..." Smooth, Holden. If he wasn't already questioning his sexuality, he sure is now.

  The women who had been talking about him a moment earlier were gawking at us both then. "It's good to see you again," he said with a pleasant if reserved smile. It put me at ease, even though it shouldn't have. "I was just heading back to my office if you'd like to catch up."

  I hesitated a moment, unsure of whether I should play along. Knowing who he was should have made me even warier of being alone with him, but this was a small town and the last thing I needed was word getting out that I liked to spend my free time getting dolled up and hanging around dive bars. "Office?"

  "Just up the street," he said, gesturing to the building Nick had pointed out to me what felt like forever ago.

  I nodded, fueled as much by the desire to get out of the public eye as the need to set things straight. Or the opposite of straight, in this case. At the very least, I felt like I owed Dennis an apology. I followed him halfway to the office before I froze, looking down at the crate. "Um, maybe I should drop him off first." That would give me time to think, at least.

  Dennis eyed the carrier in my hand and leaned down to peer through the bars. Puff hissed, reassuring me that he might not be entirely useless as a guard cat. "I don't mind. But I am allergic, so if you wouldn't mind leaving him in the hall?"

  I nodded, out of excuses as I followed him up the steps. He held the door, which somehow made me feel like even more of a fraud, and I slipped inside, relieved to find that the office building was well lit.

  "So, you're a lawyer," I said awkwardly.

  He gave me a patient smile as he unlocked the door to an office with his name printed in black on the textured window. "Criminal defense."

  I gulped. Hopefully being a convincing trap wasn't a crime in Vermont. Arkansas, on the other hand...<
br />
  "Please, come in," he said, propping the door open. I set Puff's crate down in the hall and smiled sheepishly, careful not to brush past him as I slipped into the room.

  The office was plain on the outside, but surprisingly well-decorated on the inside. I left Puff's crate in the hall and followed him in, relieved that he left the door open. The building seemed empty other than his office. The fact that the windows were open to allow sunlight to stream in freely put me at ease a bit. There were plants, too, and they all seemed healthy despite the fact that the kind hanging from a pot above the window was particularly difficult to care for. How bad could a guy who loved plants really be?

  "Forgive me for not making a proper introduction," he began, offering his hand to me. "I'm afraid if we'd lingered in the square, there's a good chance it would have ended up as tomorrow's headline. That and I wasn't sure you'd feel comfortable discussing things out there."

  He wasn't sure I'd feel comfortable? I realized I was gawking again and quickly looked away. If he was the Dennis Mills, he had to be tired of that by now. "Thanks." I paused before blurting out, "I'm so sorry."

  He frowned. "Sorry for what, exactly?"

  "For what happened at the club, for leaving, for everything, I guess. I just assumed you knew I was..." I trailed off, finding my tongue as rusty as my thoughts.

  "Male?" he offered patiently.

  "Yeah. That."

  "I guess now I know why you left in such a hurry."

  "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I really thought you knew I was in drag. I didn't mean to trick you or anything."

  "Trick me?" He frowned. "I was in a gay bar."

  "Oh." I blinked. "Right, but..."

  "It would be a bit hypocritical of me to be upset over such a misunderstanding given the setting and circumstance, wouldn't it?" he asked, sitting on the edge of his desk, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "As far as misunderstandings go, it wouldn't have been an unpleasant one."