by Molly Fitz
I ran my hand over my hair, wondering where the new dark streak would peek through. Thank the new moon that Gran had hooked me up with an appointment with Joe, a hairstylist at Supernatural Strands or Super Strands for short. Fortunately for Joe, and unfortunately for me, I never seemed to learn my lesson. No wonder I was always broke.
I lay in the pile of discarded trash while staring at that same blue sky Gran had raved about. Would I ever catch a break? “Thank the goddess no one saw this embarrassment.”
“Oh, but I did.”
I pushed up to my elbows and looked around. “Who? Who’s out here?”
A black cat peered around the corner of the dumpster. “Why I am.”
“What?” I rubbed my head and stared at the cat. He stared back with large, inquisitive, golden eyes. “Did you just say something?”
“Of course I did. Did you lose your hearing when you fell? Or just your dignity?” The cat twitched his whiskers and narrowed his eyes. Then, as if a dam broke, his complaints poured out like verbal diarrhea: he’d been waiting outside forever, the human who usually fed him hadn’t today, so it was now my responsibility, etc. In detail, he went on to explain that after witnessing the mini explosion and my resulting fall, he had little faith I’d be able to complete the small task of ensuring he was adequately fed.
I was being insulted by a cat. A cat that could talk and understand me. Although he’d yet to stop talking, so I wasn’t sure he was doing much on the listening and understanding part, much like most of the men in my life. The cat had further validated his maleness by sashaying too close to my face, giving me an up close and frightful view of his family jewels.
I laid my arm across my forehead and closed my eyes to wait until the world stopped spinning and random cats stopped talking; I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought. I’d previously tried, and failed, multiple spells to allow me to communicate with Mulder. I finally gave up before I injured my dog or myself in the process.
When I opened my eyes, the cat was still there. In my face. Talking. “I see from your cheap name tag that your name is Marissa. I’m not sure why humans have to put a tag on their shirt or on the collar of their animal family members to remember their names. Is your memory that bad?”
“I—“
“My name is Jasper.” The cat held up a paw as if he would actually give me time to respond. “No tag needed. I’ll remind you if you forget. Now, can you get me something better to eat than the slop you people leave out here?”
I sat up, squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. My vision focused clearly on the cat who continued to complain about the slim pickings around the dumpster. Perhaps it was a good thing the communication spell had never worked with Mulder. Who’d have thought animals had so much to gripe about?
What I would’ve told Jasper, if he’d let me get a word out, was that the club drew a large number of vampires who didn’t eat and werewolves who ate just about anything. We were lucky to have much to toss out at all.
I held up a hand. “Stop. Ok, Jasper. I’m not sure how long this spell is going to last, if indeed it’s a spell and not a curse or”—I pinched my arm—“I’m not passed out and hallucinating. But if you’ll stop talking, I’ll see what I can do about getting you something to eat.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Sounds good, human named Marissa. Let’s go.”
I smiled when he hopped on my lap. He was cute when he was quiet. “Mulder will love you.”
I hoped I wasn’t as wrong about that as I was about this being an easy, summer job. Gran always said I went looking for trouble. Luckily, when I told Jasper I’d wake him once I found him something to eat, he curled up on my jacket in my locker and immediately fell asleep.
I headed toward the kitchen to search for food to sneak to the cat. No one was at the club yet, but other employees would arrive shortly. Although, for all I knew, the only thing anyone else might hear if he woke up and started complaining before I returned was meowing. However, I did know that having a cat in the club would be frowned upon. Even weres and shifters weren’t allowed to hang out while not in human form.
I shoved my face into the freezer to find something to defrost for Jasper while cooling my sweaty skin from the furnace of Florida heat. My plan backfired in a hurry when I came face to face with a frosty-looking corpse.
There were many things I might’ve expected to find in the extra freezer in the back room of the Night Moves kitchen, but a corpse wasn’t anywhere on that list. This day was getting better and better.
I dropped the lid of the chest freezer and stepped back to stare at the bulky appliance. First a talking cat and now a corpse? Maybe I’d imagined the dead man tucked in with the frozen food. Perhaps, as previously considered, this was all a blackout dream, and I was actually lying unconscious in the parking lot.
I stepped forward and pulled on the lid a second time. A sucking sound caught my attention as the seal broke, and the gust of cool air bursting out had me tensing as if the freezer had come alive. I hesitated in case the corpse might rise up from the frozen depths. I might be a witch, but I was more of a scaredy cat than Jasper.
As the cold fog dissipated, I swallowed and stepped forward to peer over the edge of the freezer. Yep. There was still a dead guy nestled in among the frozen fish and hamburger patties. A hand touched my shoulder and I let out a scream. I spun to face my accoster. “Burton! What are you doing? You nearly scared me to death.”
My coworker, Burton, peered over my shoulder. As usual, his black hair glistened with pomade. “Like that guy?”
Burton’s tone was as flat as if he’d just announced the time and not commented on the corpse in the freezer. In general, his emotions were few and far between, if they existed at all. I knew he was something different from the moment I met him; I just hadn’t figured out what yet.
I pressed my hand against my galloping heart. Now would’ve been a good time for me to be free of my own pesky emotions. So what if my feelings were often overabundant; I’d take that over being the sinister-looking, silent type, like Burton, even if it did make him a good listener. He’d become my sounding board during my first month as I struggled to fit in. He, of all people, understood what it was like to be compared to everyone else and come up lacking.
The nice thing about having Burton as the closest thing to a best friend that Florida had to offer was that I didn’t have to worry about hurting his non-existent feelings. Sometimes, I have the uncanny ability to offend others without intending to. Everyone, except Burton. He didn’t give a bat’s eye what anyone else thought. He was just Burton. Sure, it made him come across a little creepy to some, but his utter indifference was his best feature and something I aspired to have for myself. So far, I was failing in my quest.
By all appearances, I was the biggest goof-up at Night Moves, but deep down I knew it was Burton. Not that he was a goof-up, just a bit more evil than I could ever aspire to be. I wasn’t actually trying to be evil, some people just assumed I must be because of the dark streaks that kept showing up in my hair.
I looked at my creepy coworker, unsure how to break our silent standoff. For once, Burton knew exactly what to say. He cocked his head to the side, appearing more curious than concerned. “What happened to him?”
“How am I supposed to know?” We both peered into the freezer.
“Wait a minute. I think I know him.” I leaned forward far enough that my toes almost left the ground and tried to envision the corpse without the frosty coating. The thick chest curls peeking from the collar of his shirt and the seventies-style handlebar mustache confirmed it. “He lives at Gran’s retirement community. His name is Henry.” I grimaced at the memory of the pool. “He was wearing a lot less clothing the last time I saw him.” It seemed Henry wouldn’t be strutting any more of his stuff for the witches.
Chapter Three
The unpleasant view of Henry strutting around in that little bathing suit would’ve been welcome over finding him starting to
defrost as we held the freezer lid open. “I can’t believe I just found Henry in the freezer.”
“What did you find? Some old, expired meat?” Samantha sashayed into the storage room, which now felt cramped with the four of us, even if one of us was in the freezer and no longer sharing the same air. Not that Samantha needed much air as a vampire, or much space since she was tall and thin as a rail.
“You could say that, but it wouldn’t be very considerate.” I winced as soon as the comment left my lips. A little sarcasm was enjoyed by some, but it was unlikely this was the best place to use such humor. What could I say? This was my first murder scene.
Samantha sped across the floor with her abnormally fast vampire speed until she was hovering between us. After a quick glimpse, she retreated as if she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the corpse—or Burton and me—as possible.
“What happened?” She narrowed her violet eyes and ran her gaze over both of us as if we were emitting clues. I withered like a guilty school child being reprimanded even though I’d done nothing wrong. Burton, on the other hand, didn’t appear as if her comment, or the corpse, affected him at all. I could only assume dead bodies were a normal part of his week.
Finding my voice, I said, “Henry has been murdered,” with as much flair as I’d seen on many of those television crime shows Gran loved to watch.
“How do you know it’s a murder?” Her attention went right to Burton; her head shifted so quickly that the hair in her blonde pixie cut swayed.
“Of course Henry was murdered. Do you think he got into the freezer to take a nap? It’s not like he misjudged it for a casket.” I frowned, wondering if that would’ve made a difference for a vampire. Technically, they weren’t really alive, so would an air-tight freezer mean the end of them? Probably a question for better time.
“He’s not a vampire.” She narrowed her gaze. “You called him Henry. So, you knew him?” Her neck swiveled from Henry to Burton to me as she sniffed the air like a bloodhound on a scent before she said, “I smell magic.”
I took another look at Henry and sure enough, spelling residue was burnt onto his clothing. The big, white collar made popular in the seventies had a glittery glow and was speckled with black magic soot.
When I returned my focus to Samantha, she was staring at my hair, obviously homing in on the new streak. “Wait. I—”
“You two better stay right there. I’m going to get Vlad.” She backed away and pointed from Burton to me as if Henry might mistake her comment for him. A gust of air whooshed by as she left the room with lightning speed.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Just because I barely knew Henry, and because I’m a witch, doesn’t mean I did anything wrong. I found him—that’s it!” I hated that I felt like I had to defend myself for something I didn’t do, even though she’d already left the room.
I resisted touching my hair. When I’d returned inside with Jasper, a glance to the mirrors behind the bar had confirmed what I’d suspected: I’d earned a new dark streak from the blown up cocktail incident in the parking lot. The twist I’d fashioned my hair into could only conceal so much.
If I admitted the truth behind the streak, that I was charming cocktails without permission, I’d likely lose my job. Charming cocktails showed off the best of my magic talents. Well, pretty much my only talent. If I could show Vlad how much customers grew to love my specialty drinks, I’m sure he would be thrilled and overlook my disregard for the probationary period. My preference was to ask for an apology later rather than permission first.
That is, if Samantha didn’t get me fired. She had it in for me from the start. It wasn’t my fault that the vamp I replaced was her friend. Then, I asked about her new boyfriend one time, not realizing he was the husband of one of the regulars. With a strict rule about not messing around with the married clientele, Vlad wasn’t happy about that news at all, and my harmless observation had gotten her written up. I wouldn’t put it past her to seek revenge, but murder seemed pretty harsh, especially killing an old, harmless warlock like Henry.
But Samantha was a vampire, and a reckless one—if the rumors were true. Maybe she’d jumped Henry for a blood cocktail last night and then stashed him in the freezer. She knew I had the early shift today. She could’ve planted the magic residue on Henry to misdirect the blame to me. I peered closer at Henry. He’d have a bite mark somewhere on him if his death was due to a vampire, but a bite could be concealed on any and all parts of the body. Literally, any parts …
I cringed at the thought of examining his body for a bite mark and leaned even farther back from the freezer. Maybe it was best to leave the examination to the police. The creaking of the door had me spinning around, but it was just Burton attempting a stealthy exit from the room.
“Where are you going? Samantha said to wait.” She wasn’t my supervisor, even though she pretended she was, but I was trying my best to stay in Vlad’s good graces, and that stick-skinny vampire was a huge suck up. Plus, it just seemed wrong to leave Henry alone in the freezer, and me alone with a dead body. “You can’t go. Isn’t that like leaving the scene of the crime?”
“But I didn’t find him. You did.” He frowned and smoothed his hand down his impeccable dark purple pinstriped suit. “I have to tend bar.”
I sighed. Burton had a good work ethic, but there was no reasoning with him. He had his routines and didn’t veer from them. I swear if the place burst into flames, Burton would extinguish a spot small enough to work and continue manning the bar. “Can’t that wait?”
Burton crossed his arms and looked down at me. He wasn’t much taller, but he made up for it with his impassive expression that gave the appearance of being completely empty inside and not giving a hoot if you joined in the ranks of the deceased. “Do you want to contend with one dead body? Or a club full of angry paranormals waiting on their drinks?”
I was pretty sure he meant Henry when he referred to the dead body, although others might have taken Burton’s comments as a veiled threat. And I also knew there was one nasty witch who didn’t like to wait on their beverage of choice. I don’t know what I did to earn gin-and-juice Gloria’s dislike, but that bitter witch cut me to the core with insults. I’d hate to see what she could do if she got upset enough to retaliate with magic. “You have a point. Henry isn’t going anywhere.” I closed the freezer and followed Burton out.
A quick check on Jasper confirmed he was still asleep; the poor guy must be exhausted. It was a good thing he was napping because if the noise filtering to the back was any indication, the club was rapidly filling up. After a quick check in with the boss and Samantha, Vlad insisted we take care of the customers while he determined the next steps for Henry.
All manner of supernatural wanna-be celebrities were preening and prancing around the club. Okay maybe not all of them were preening and prancing, but the atmosphere sure felt weird. How could the world just keep going as normal with Henry chilling in our freezer as if he’d simply settled in for a nap?
You’d think that dealing with a dead body would be more of a common occurrence for a bunch of paranormals, but apparently murdering and sticking a warlock in a freezer was different than bleeding them out or other possible unnatural fates normals suffered in present company. Those unsavory outcomes seemed to fall into more of a “vampires will be vampires” or “paranormals will be paranormal” view around here. I guess the attitude came from living in a small town where everyone knew about everyone … if they were paranormal.
Vlad wasn’t exactly upset about Henry, more troubled that this might disrupt service for tonight. As the club got busier, no one seemed to know how to deal with the corpse while continuing business as usual. It was either reduce our available menu options or dig around the body for the frozen food. Finally, someone had the idea to donate the food to a local shelter for wayward werewolves. After Henry was no longer using the frozen meat patties as a mattress, of course.
I didn’t really know him all that we
ll but continuing on with the day as if nothing happened felt rather heartless. I said as much to Burton, but he didn’t respond, although I’d like to think the situation did actually upset him. He didn’t seem to care strongly enough to seek revenge or hate. For him, everything and everyone was just business.
He was the only supe I knew with this attitude. Or I should say, the only one I knew and liked. The one other person I knew with a similar devil-may-care attitude was Gloria, a witch that made my every day a living nightmare with her rude comments. She wore her indiscretions with pride in a veil of blacker than coal hair that confirmed she’d done more than her share of horrid spells. Plus, she was nasty and hateful.
I leaned against the bar as Burton filled my tray with another round of drinks. Normals—a never-ending supply of tourists passing through, snowbirds flocking to escape the winter, and newbies who’d just retired—disappeared a lot around this area, but Henry wasn’t a normal. Henry was one of our own and he hadn’t disappeared. Surely, the other staff should be more concerned? Part of me wondered if the lack of concern was because Henry was a warlock. Witches and warlocks made up the smallest group of paranormals in town.
I couldn’t get Henry out of my mind. Even for a warlock, he might’ve been old, but there had to be foul play involved. Who would crawl into a freezer to commit suicide? Heck, I wasn’t sure if Henry’s old body could manage that on its own.
That magic residue had to mean something, but I wasn’t about to point that out as the only witch here for the start of the shift who’d also happened to find Henry’s body. The same witch who was sporting a new spelling streak in her hair. Of course this was all coincidence, but I was kidding myself to think everyone would believe that.
Chapter Four
Vlad raised a thin black brow as if my suggestion of notifying the police was absurd. “Around these parts, paranormals take care of their own and avoid involving the mortal police until absolutely necessary. I want to keep Henry’s death close to the vest until I get to the bottom of things”
