by Ann Denton
Good. She’s totally off on a tangent that’s not my life. Dodged a bullet. Whew.
“Anyway, dear,” Tabby shakes herself out of memory and pats me on the hand, “That enchantment’s called a balloon decoy. And the spell to animate it is pretty complex. It might take me two or three days to cast.”
I jerk my head toward JR. “I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be clawing her eyes out in two or three days.”
Tabby scratches her chin. “Well, I guess I could always check Gor’s Pawnshop.”
“You go there?” My eyes widen. Gor’s is a rough place. Run by a goblin. Known to fence stolen goods. I prepped a couple of cases against him back when I was a paralegal.
“They have all kinda things there second-hand. Much cheaper than the big-box. They got muzzles, leashes, and handcuffs—”
“Stop! Stop!” I hold up a hand, then quickly cover my ears in case Tabby doesn’t comply. I’m am so scared right now that I’m about to get a run-down on were-cat BDSM.
Thankfully, the waiter comes back with Tabby’s bowl of milk. I toss him a gold coin to pay for the bowl and as a thank you for saving my mind from experiencing permanent trauma.
Sarah and JR take over the conversation at that point, creating a very complex calendar of events that somehow, I'm just supposed to remember.
I try not to let my eyes glaze over.
Sarah starts describing some potion she’ll whip up to help JR with last minute details. I think my ears go numb from all the talking.
So when Cherry Jones, my cooking idol, pops out of the kitchen, I see my chance to escape.
"Cherry!" I call. Mrs. Snow scoots out of the booth so I can get out. I cross the busy diner to shake her hand.
She squints her eyes at me trying to remember who I am.
I put the poor unicorn shifter out of her misery. "I'm Lyon. Luke Hawkins' friend. We met a couple weeks ago."
Recognition dons in her purple eyes. "You're the one he's pining over."
I chuckle uncomfortably. “I guess. I’m using the fact that I met you once to escape wedding planning over there.”
Cherry’s eyes bounce over my friends. “Smart move. I had to come out to meet a catering client. Big parties are chaos.” She shakes her rainbow hair from side to side and it’s like a salon commercial for the supernatural. For a second, I wish I was a unicorn. Who wouldn’t?
“Big parties, big drama,” I toss back. “What kind are you catering?”
Cherry rolls her eyes. “Some ridiculous combination retirement-slash-promotion party. I guess this guy is up for a promo, but if he doesn’t get it, he’ll retire. Or something. I dunno. His wife’s crazy. Wants to go sail around the world or some whacko thing like that.” She shudders. “I can’t even imagine getting in the ocean. Nightmare!” She makes a little shuddering noise reminiscent of a whinny.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be my retirement dream,” I agree, though I don’t have her equine aversion to the ocean. I’d just much rather read.
“Oh, there she is,” Cherry nods toward an overweight woman with a purse the size of a concrete block and beak of a nose. Bright blue leaches through the skin on her nose, drawing even more attention to the unattractive feature. (I’m guessing she’s shifter. Leaching can happen with older shifters. Can’t hold their shape. Just like some old people can’t hold their bladder.) The woman has to turn sideways to get in the door.
“I’ll let you get to it then,” I sigh. I glance back at my table, where discussions are still full force. Damn.
A hand grabs my arm. Cherry’s eyes have grown as big as a baby doll’s. They overpower her face. “Lyon, this might be overstepping. But do not miss your shot. I hear Luke’s average O ratio is three to one."
Did she just say what I think she said? No. She's got to be talking about blood type or something, right? "I'm sorry. I think I misheard—"
"You didn't. He’s legendary. Mythical even." She winks and walks away.
OMG. I already knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. But now, I won’t even be able to close my eyes.
Luke Hawkins just got labeled a sex unicorn.
Chapter 4
Three nights later. I haven’t made it off Flower’s list. Haven’t lost any yoga blocks in his office. (He caught me trying to plant one. Did not go over well.) I haven’t slept because I’m helping JR with tulle and centerpiece crap ‘til noon every frickin’ day. Mrs. Snow’s potions don’t help me at all (and they taste like vinegar, so I kinda stopped taking them). But I’m too cheap to go buy Peppy Perk Potion because it’s like sixty gold. Gah!
And now, Flowers has come up with the worst punishment assignment to date. At least tonight, I share the bottom listing with Seena and Becca.
We’re on crowd control. A shit-job if there ever was one. Standing around with a badge on my chest so that it makes this event look more important. Like eight people are here on the floor. Eight! Crowd control for eight people? Seriously. I’d rather be cleaning bathrooms. How does he stand still for so long? I glare at Flowers, who looks totally at ease in his “guard” stance.
I curl my toes in my shoes.
We have been here at Town Hall for two hours, standing around doing nothing. Literally nothing. I’ve counted the columns. I’ve stared up at the balcony on the second floor. I now have memorized the portraits of our founding fathers. Did you know a kraken supposedly helped found Tres Lunas? Yeah. Hmm. I’m a little skeptical. We’re only half an hour from the ocean, but still. How’d he get here? Methinks some scholar got it wrong. Or some painter played a practical joke.
I turn my eyes back to the stage and sigh at the ridiculousness of my current situation. I weigh it versus the kraken.
There are more people lining the stage up there than sitting in the crowd: current City Council members, mayor’s assistants, and miscellaneous bigwigs all want their moment to shine on camera. In fact, I’m pretty sure all the people sitting in our “crowd” are executive assistants to the jerks on stage. Possibly the hair and makeup crew for the stupid nymph news reporter, Jackie Hanna, who’s been interviewing everyone for the past hour. I deliberately avoid eye contact with her as she sashays around the stage. But I can’t help noticing she’s wearing a ring. A huge emerald. God, don’t tell me someone’s stupid enough to put a ring on that.
“Why, Councilman Max,” Jackie purrs, bending forward to give the camera a good cleavage shot, “Do you have any predictions as to who Mayor Honeycutt will select as the new Council Member?”
Max is the only familiar ever to be elected to City Council. He’s a Siamese cat who’s worked with fourteen wizards over the course of his career. But of course, all his magical achievements are forgotten. All anyone remembers about him now is that he was on a commercial for a cat-food company.
Max licks his back leg and declines to comment. I figure that’s the feline version of ‘Eff you.’ I mean, he couldn’t get much closer to licking his butt on camera without paying obscenity fines. I decide I like him.
Jackie’s not sure how to react. She bites her lip and gets a little lipstick on her teeth. Her cameraman instantly stops the shot and goes up to tell her. An assistant runs up with a mirror and fixes her up.
In the meantime, her cameraman goes to his bag of equipment, rustles through some cords, curses, then heads past me.
I watch him pull open the door to the hall behind me. But even as he pulls open the door, someone pushes it open. Someone in a bright orange sweat suit.
“Lyon! Lyon, we made it!” Mrs. Snow and Tabby scurry around the cameraman and give me hugs.
Sarah’s been helping with wedding sweatshop—our pet name for Camila’s never-ending list of tasks for JR. She knew I’d be here tonight working. (Probably because I spent half the morning whining about it.)
Unlike me, Sarah squealed when I told her about guard duty for the appointment of the new City Councilor—like I’d invited her to the prom. (Note to self, get hobbies when I retire. Or shit like this will be exciting times.)
/> And now Sarah’s here. With Tabby. Well, at least the night’s looking less boring for me.
“Guess what!” Sarah yells through the hall, oblivious to everyone who turns to stare. “I finished that Pause Potion for JR!” She holds up a little vial like it’s an award.
Tabby pants and holds her chest as they near me. “Whew, thought we’d miss it. Anything big happen?”
I shake my head no.
Sarah Snow smiles. “Lucky for us, a sweet young vamp just happened to give us a lift.”
I inhale sharply and look behind them. There, striding confidently up the hall, is the vamp version of perfection. Luke wears tight black jeans and a black t-shirt. No jacket, despite the fall chill. Benefit of being undead. But the other benefit, the one I care more about, is the view of his biceps, covered in hot rune tattoos. His long blond hair is loose, framing his face. When our eyes meet, his dimples pop out with his smile. Cherry’s last words to me echo in my head. And my panties are suddenly burned to a crisp. Damn. Can you say ultimate temptation?
“Lyon, you are on duty.” Flowers evil voice in my ear-piece cuts off my fantasies of long hot bouts of nakedness with Luke’s hair brushing my neck.
A flush creeps over my cheeks. I smile at Sarah and Tabby. I give Luke a tentative grin. “Glad you could make it. As you can see, there are plenty of seats. But I have to get back to work.”
“Work?” Tabby raises an eyebrow. “There’s not enough people here to spit on. Where’s that boss of yours?” She tromps over to the other side of the room, a woman on a mission. My eyes follow her, glowing in admiration.
Luke takes a step forward. I hold up a hand to stop him.
“Take a good look at her. Re-think this whole dating thing. Because she is exactly who I want to be in fifty years.”
Luke chuckles.
We hear Tabby ripping into Flowers. I meet Luke’s eyes. “I’m totally serious.”
“I know.” His eyes flit over my face. Admiration, amusement, lust cross his features. Somehow, I know what each one of his micro-expressions is. Which is crazy. Because we hardly know each other. We’ve been on one date. One date, where I was secretly digging for info about his ex-girlfriend, the vamp I was accused of murdering. One date where I got him to admit his food fetish and ended up in his lap … okay, okay, I’m making it dirtier in my mind than it actually was. But it still was so, so—my feet are drawn toward him like magnets are pulling us together. Our recent friendly play in the kiddie area of the courthouse floods my mind.
I’m pretty sure he can read my thoughts because he flashes me a naughty grin.
Sarah’s clap and giggle jerk me out of my heated state. She’s watching us like a giddy little cupid. I clear my throat.
“I really got to get back to work. Enjoy the show, guys.”
“Wait. I wanted to ask you something.” Luke steps toward me and uses his back to shield me from the crowd.
“What is it?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t—” a blush stains his neck.
I’ve never seen him nervous. It’s adorable. I put a hand on his arm. And feel absolutely no vampire-induced fear whatsoever. Damn. I’m far gone. I try to ease his mind. “Hey, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the expanding underwear Tabby tried to pawn off on me.”
That earns a chuckle. “She didn’t.”
“No. She would though.”
Luke clears his throat. But a nervous scratch remains. “I thought I might help you practice losing things sometime.”
“What kind of things?” My answer is way too suggestive for the friend facade we’re trying to maintain.
He takes a step closer. I think my response dissolved his nerves. “I have some ideas.”
“Not gonna tell me?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Anticipation is half the fun.” He winks.
“When?”
“In two nights? I should be free around four a.m.”
“Sure.”
A cat-call echoes through my earpiece. Seena’s voice cackles through the wire.
“Loser got a date!”
Becca comes to my defense, though she’s stationed across the room. “Shut it, Seena.”
Things calm down for about two minutes. Luke takes a seat and eventually Flowers is able to get rid of Tabby.
He tells the three of us to converge near the front doors. Why? Who knows? But at least we can talk without him overhearing everything.
We watch Jackie’s cameraman, who’s back in action, attempt to avoid tripping over wires as he scurries to follow Jackie to all her interviews.
Seena leans over, “Five gold say he’s gonna biff it.”
Becca shakes her head. “No way, he’s a pro.”
Seena groans as the cameraman successfully navigates the cords leading to the podium and follows Jackie to interview our most senior Councilperson.
Councilwoman Jiang is the complete opposite of Max the Cat. She flits her perfect wings so she can hover next to Jackie. Jealous? Me? Never. I do not hate, at all, the way she has frosted her wing tips so they look like icicles and glitter under the camera lights. I embrace my wingless state. It’s so much easier to … get through doors. Yeah.
I force a smile as I listen to her make all kinds of ridiculous nothing statements about how she’s sure Mayor Honeycutt has picked the most worthy candidate, the one who wants to help promote the good of our city … blah blah blah.
I’m relieved when Giancarlo Russo, our vamp Councilor steps in. And no, it’s not because his name rolls off the tongue in the seductive way cigarette ads used to make smoke roll off people’s lips. It has nothing to do with his Italian accent. I’m just tired of the empty platitudes, thank you. It’s hard enough to stand still with my legs apart and hands clasped and avoid looking at Luke every third second. I’d prefer to stay awake while I struggle to do those things.
I give a little sigh. Why is it that all vamps are smoldering hot? Russo might have turned vamp in his mid-forties, but hello. The silver hair at his temples only makes me wanna get kinky. Geez, focus, Ly. What’s the matter with you? Job. Job. I really need to pay for that Peppy Perk Potion.
I am gonna have a hard time keeping my promise to JR not to date any vamps ever again. She made me swear not to touch vamps after I had some problems with a vamp ex of mine. Not to mention the blood thing. Sigh. I know she’s right. But … my eyes drift to Luke.
He’s steadily watching me.
I’ve been scared of dating vamps for a long, long time. I try to resurrect that fear while I look at him. But it just won’t come.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see the final Councilor, the white witch Clo, looking at me. And when I say white, I mean literally. Not race. Like paper white skin. White hair to her waist. Even her eyes are a scary bluish white that make her pupils look like black speck of dirt. If she didn’t wear a ton of makeup, I’m pretty sure she’d look totally creepy. Lucky for me, she’s rocking the blush for the camera.
“Excuse me. Do you think we could get some more water bottles? I think that we will probably need them.” Clo gives a small smile and waves a hand toward the short list of appointees. “I think whichever of them gives a speech, might need a little to drink.” She winks.
Ah. She’s saying water. But she means vodka. I size her up.
She’s pegged me as a rule-breaker. Not that it’s not true, strictly speaking. But I’m not sure I like that. Or her.
She’s supposedly a sweetheart, which means her intentions are as pure as snow. Sweethearts are the ‘good’ supernatural creatures. Good witches. Fae. Creatures like that. Is it weird I’m skeptical of that? That I don’t trust that label? (Maybe it’s because I break the mold for a fairy. Or JR breaks the nymphomaniac stereotype. Maybe I just like outcasts.)
I eye Clo for a second before turning to Becca.
“Sure, we can help. Becca, where’s that kitchen area again?”
Becca bounds off, calling behind her, “I’ll grab the waters!”
&nbs
p; I’m not sure if she senses the tension between Clo and I or if she just wants and excuse to move. Either way works for me.
Clo eyes me for a moment before drifting back to the stage.
I turn my attention to the potential appointees. Jackie is now interviewing them.
Unlike the current City Councilors, the potential appointees onstage all look a little sick to their stomachs. There’s a bald man with a walrus-sized mustache who’s got beads of sweat all over his face.
A large woman scurries up to the stage with a handkerchief and starts dabbing. She looks familiar. When she turns, I know why.
She’s got a hooked nose, big and blue. She’s the one I saw meeting Cherry.
My eyes flicker back to her husband. What was that party for? Promo or retirement? Looking at him, retirement is more likely. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, jerks his shoulders a couple times, and straightens his tie more than once.
His words are a high-pitched breathy hiss when Jackie Hanna starts interviewing him on camera.
“Yes. Yes. Regulation of the airways is always going to be a … a top priority,” he squeaks. “With witches, ghosts, shifter aviators all sharing the skies, we… we really gotta buckle down.” He tries a forceful fist in hand motion at that point. It doesn’t work at all. I almost feel sorry for him.
And then he ruins it.
“I mean, it clearly makes most sense for the corporeal to take precedence. Ghosts can fly through buildings for cripe’s sake.”
I exchange a look with Seena and roll my eyes. This dude’s anti-ghost. Which ends up being anti-earthbound. Idiot. Read the news. Mondstark, Virginia tried that twenty years back. Chaos. Ghosts popping through walls. Freezing sleeping were-pups and scaring people in the shower. No. Clearly, ghosts belong in the sky.
I hope the mayor doesn’t appoint this clown. His blue-nosed wife is right. It’s time for him to retire.
I turn toward the other two potential appointees and tune out the man I’m now nicknaming Raspberry. Because he makes me want to blow one at him.
