Alchemy With Benefits

by Katalina Leon

  “Griselda didn’t give me the ruby. It’s a loan. Some sort of test.”

  “I’m sorry, Estele. I didn’t mean to sound bitter. But jeez Louise, what a once-in-a-lifetime privilege. I wonder what Grissy’s up to. Mercury poisoning may finally be pulling the rabbit out of her hat.”

  Estele laughed. “I’m home, Fredi. I’m going to sign off and climb into a bath. I’ll call tomorrow, okay?”

  “Before you go, did you say ‘brujo,’ as in wizard?”

  “I did,” she said sheepishly.

  “Be careful. Something about this odd combination of events is causing me alarm.”

  “I’ll be cautious. Bye, Fredi.” She steered onto a steep driveway and her little VW coughed its way up the almost vertical incline as she parked beneath a modern cantilevered apartment building perched on a landscaped terrace. The architecture was sleek and stylish, the height of modern sophistication when it was built in the late 1960s. The panoramic view of the crescent coastline and Channel Islands was the sort usually reserved for millionaires.

  On her touch-and-go waitressing salary and the modest student stipend she received from her grandmother’s estate, there was no way she would have ever been able to afford a fab apartment like this—except the building was batshit haunted.

  No Indian burial grounds here, though. Those were located in downtown San Buena beneath an unassuming city park. This glass and chrome Bauhaus masterpiece was built on the razed foundations of a rotting Victorian asylum. In yesteryear, the syphilitics, the criminally deranged, the opium addicts, and the just plain loony were sent to the house on the hill and for the most part forgotten.

  Now the attractive apartment complex had the dubious distinction of being one of America’s most haunted locations. In fact, it was nearly impossible to hold renters to their leases. Most didn’t last a week. Lucky for the enchantment community, the landlord was willing to slash the rent to maintain the fiction that the building was perfectly inhabitable. But she knew better.

  Running up a stark black staircase that created the illusion the slender steps floated unanchored in space, Estele reached her second-floor apartment, unit thirteen.

  Yes, it had been ill-advised of the planners to call the largest corner apartment unit thirteen. For certain it was haunted, but the sparkling steel and chrome Jetsons-style kitchen and ocean view were to die for. Too bad so many other weirdos had already died there first.

  The moment the key turned in the lock, she opened the door and heard a drawer slam shut.

  “Captain Manx!” Estele shouted. “Are you rifling through my dresser drawers again?”

  No answer.

  “Captain, I know that’s you.” The ghost of a nineteenth century Scottish sea captain haunted unit thirteen. For a number of complicated reasons, Captain Manx had ended his days in the house on the hill.

  She entered the apartment with caution. “For shame, Captain! A lady’s personal things should be off-limits. If we have to share the space, at least show me some respect.”

  A silver-bearded wild man dressed in a tattered pea coat, canvas pants, and a wool cap materialized seated on her kitchen countertop. “Greetings and salutations, bonny Miss Estele.” He grinned, revealing shocking red and black stains on his teeth incurred from a lifetime of chewing the mildly narcotic beetle nut from Southeast Asia.

  “Don’t ‘bonny’ me. I heard the drawer shut. What have you been up to while I was gone? Open your coat, show me.”

  Looking sullen, the captain unbuttoned his jacket. His barrel chest was covered in silver hair, mermaid tattoos, and a lacy pink polka-dot bra.

  “Aha! You know that’s mine. Take it off.”

  Scowling, he removed the coat and slid the bra straps from his shoulders. “A body don’t mean no harm by it. I only borrowed the bit of feminine finery on a lark.”

  “But it’s still rude and nasty. My nice things come back to me reeking of stale sweat, pipe tobacco, and whatever it is you’re doing with whale oil.”

  “Aye, whale oil is nature’s most conducive lubricant for—”

  “Be quiet!” Clamping her hands over her ears, Estele mumbled, “I don’t want to know.”

  The captain handed her a scrawled note. “Here’s a list of a few things we’re in dire need of. If you would be so gracious as to retrieve them on your next sojourn to a medicinal emporium, I would be deeply indebted to you and prepared to praise your name in gratitude from here to the Milky Way.”

  “Medicinal emporium? Why won’t you just say Rite Aid? By the way, you’re already indebted to me, and dead for over a century. Why do you keep asking for things from the drugstore?”

  Throwing his hands into the air, the captain frowned. “I’m bored.”

  She read the list. “Laudanum, two pints—”

  “Aye, better make it three pints, my little raven-haired kitten of sea.”

  “Please don’t call me that.” She glanced back at the list. “One cask Macau-brewed gin with extra Tonka bean, cocaine tincture—double strength, Bombay snuff, opium dumplings, black rum and canon powder for the making of sea-grog, hashish-infused Turkish delight, a rat....”

  Setting the list on the countertop, she shrugged. “A rat? Captain, was there any substance in the world that didn’t become one of your vices?”

  He answered with a dramatic chin drop. “I’m proud to say that despite a pronounced predilection toward parsnips, I was always able to practice moderation with my consumption of root vegetables.”

  Bracing her hands on the countertop, she sighed. “Dare I even ask what use you have for the rat?”

  A frown tugged at his brows. “Nothing. I just miss being around rats.”

  Backing away from the counter, she paced the kitchen floor. “Listen to me carefully. I’m going to take a bath.”

  “I’ll join you! I could use one myself.”

  “No. I want some private time without interruptions. After my bath, I’m going to do a little homework and relax, because tonight I have social plans.”

  “Aye. Might we expect a toothsome young lad to do some parlor calling?”

  “No, at seven o’clock I will be meeting a man downtown for a drink.”

  He winked. “Earning waterfront wages, are we? Flashing your knickers to gents for two pence?” The captain’s lips pouted beneath a walrus mustache. “Perhaps this is an illicit convergence of some sort involving a lonely longshoreman?”

  “Wrong on all counts, Captain. My God, what a dirty mind you’ve got. We call them ‘dates.’ It’s a chance for people to get to know each other without necessarily having to exchange money or proposals of marriage on the first meeting.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t understand the modern world. Social commerce between the sexes used to be so simple. In my day, when men and women met, it was always for one of three options. Marriage, money, and what was the third...?”

  “Captain, if you behave yourself and lie low for a little while, I promise to buy you a bottle of rum. Even though you’re a freaking ghost and can’t even drink it. I’ll leave the cap off so you can sniff it to your heart’s content and get high on the fumes.”

  Shivering with delight, he grinned, baring crimson teeth. “Bonny lass! You’d do that for me?”

  “Yes, but I expect quiet and privacy in return. Do we have a deal?”

  “Aye, my wee trollopy grog bunny.”

  “Don’t call me that!” She walked to the bathroom, entered, and closed the door. The Zen-like room was decorated with black marble and sleek fixtures. A narrow window faced onto a private garden filled with Jurassic-era tree ferns. She turned the chrome faucet. Water bubbled into the tub. Uncorking a special bottle of Circe’s Secret bath gel that Fredi had made last Christmas, she drizzled the fragrant viridian-green fluid into the bath. Without meaning to, she added too much. The clean scent of lavender and poppy filled the air as the suds nearly overflowed the sides. “Oops!”

  Turning the water off, she twisted her shoulder-length black hair into
a topknot, undressed, and climbed into the tub. The water was warm, the view beyond the window soothing. As she slipped lower into the suds, she closed her eyes. All her cares fled.

  And then she woke to Captain Manx hovering over her.

  “Hey!” She jumped, causing a big splash. The water was cold. “What the hell? I wanted some privacy!”

  “Miss, don’t you have a planned rendezvous with a lad at seven bells?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a quarter of the rose to seven now.”

  “Holy guacamole!” Estele reached for a towel. Where did the time go? “Get out, I need to get dressed!”

  The captain bowed. “I’ve taken the liberty of laying out tonight’s trousseau for you.”

  “What? I know you mean well, but please stay out of my closet.” With the towel wrapped around her, she drained the tub and shuffled into the bedroom. The broad window facing the ocean revealed the sun was low in the sky. The first moments of brilliant pink sunset reflected off the waves. The freeway was congested, and there appeared to be a lot of activity taking place at the fairgrounds. Dozens of brightly painted big rigs dominated the parking lot.

  Glancing at the bed, she saw a complete outfit arranged exactly the way it would look on her body, laid with obvious care across her mattress. A strand of crimson Bohemian glass beads topped a white retro dress with a cheerful cherry print. A dainty pair of red platform shoes with faux cherries on the toes completed the set. The combination wasn’t bad at all. She slipped the beads over her head and knotted them.

  “Miss,” the captain called through a crack in the door. “If I might be so bold as to suggest, the red satin push-up brassiere and lace tap pants would make convivial companions to the fruity dress.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Would you please close that door?” Opening the underwear drawer, she saw the satin tap pants set on top and reached for them. “Just this once, I will take your advice.”

  “You’re welcome, miss. I’m delighted to be of service to a landlocked siren such as you. After tonight’s jaunt to the seamier side to partake in alcoholic beverages in the company of a stranger, is there any chance you might bringing me home a packet of Morpheus powder to compose my nerves?”

  She wriggled into the underwear. “No. Sorry. Nobody sells Morpheus powder anymore.”

  “Dribbling damnation, the world’s a bleaker place because of it.” He released a long hiss of disappointment that sounded like a teakettle come to a boil.

  There was little time to get ready for a date with someone as terrific as Val. With energy Estele sped through the simplest tasks as fast as possible. While zipping the dress, she darted into the bathroom to apply cat-eye liner, scarlet lipstick, and give her hair a thorough brushing. Picking up a pair of manicure scissors, she gave the straight line of her short bangs the slightest trim.

  Hurrying out of the bedroom, she discovered Captain Manx peering into her purse. “Captain! A lady’s handbag is a sacred space.”

  He stared into the depths of the bag with his face slack. “What is that?”

  She took hold of the purse. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “The stone.” He appeared stricken. “While you were dressing, it started to glow inside your purse. I saw its crimson beacon shining and walked over to investigate and...”

  “And what?”

  His lips trembled. “I touched it. Barely a tap, and horrible memories arose. Unbearable things I don’t want to remember, ever.”

  “Like?”

  The captain’s eyes turned liquid. “The drowning rats on my ship weren’t rats at all.”

  Remembering Griselda’s comment that the Heart of Hecate brought clarity, she paused. Maybe the poor old captain was finally dealing with what had brought him to the asylum in the first place? “This sounds like a conversation we should have after I return.”

  “Or never. I don’t wish to remember that part of my life.”

  “Well, this is the afterlife.”

  He gazed at her purse with dread. “Must that foul object remain in this dwelling?”

  Closing the purse, she moved it away from the captain. “I’ll take it with me. You won’t be bothered by it. While I’m away, promise me you’ll be good. No mischief, please.”

  “Aye,” he grumbled.

  Walking out the front door, she locked it. “My Goddess, the things you have to put up with to get affordable rent.” Descending the steps, she felt real excitement. The plastic cherries on the straps of her shoes looked festive. She was grateful the captain had encouraged her to wear something girlier than she might have chosen on her own.

  Opening the driver-side door of the car, she tossed her purse on the passenger seat and climbed in. Inserting the key, she smiled at the cheerful sound of the indestructible VW’s engine. Putting the car in gear, she headed down the steep driveway and drove west along the hillside road that wound its way toward the downtown area. The setting sun blasted through the windshield and made her squint.

  On such a balmy summer evening, finding a parking space near the Voodoo Hoodoo cocktail lounge would be a challenge. She reached for the Parking Fairy talisman that dangled from the rearview mirror. Using enchantment to maintain a personal minion to locate parking spaces in crowded multilevel structures and urban areas had been one of her better ideas. She grasped a green fluorite crystal attached to a long strand of green beads and muttered, “Parking Fairy, I summon thee.”

  The glove compartment opened. An emerald spark appeared and zipped around the interior of the car.

  It was always such a joyful sight when the fairy appeared. “Fae, look at these shoes. Aren’t they cute?”

  The green spark did a fly-by, gliding over the gas pedal and making tiny meowing sounds.

  “Thank you. The shoes are new. I appreciate your vote of approval.”

  The Fae droned a loud irritated machine hum that sounded like a drunken wasp in an echo chamber.

  “Calm down, Fae. Don’t get so pissy. I didn’t mean it. I always forget the Fae hate thank—” She paused. “You-know-what. Jeez, the no-thank-you tradition seems so archaic. Why can’t you accept that I want to thank you for your help?”

  Buzz, buzz, buzzzz buzzzzzzz! Hysterical, high-pitched hornet-like humming followed by bursts of spitting green sparks stung Estele’s bare ankles like the strike of mini bazooka shells.

  “Ouch! Stop already. Parking Fairy, accept my apology. I’m sorry.”

  The Fae answered with a soft meow and a cascade of glittering green sparkles.

  “Apology accepted? That’s the sweet Fae I love having on my dashboard. Now listen carefully. You need to find me a decent parking space near the Voodoo Hoodoo cocktail lounge. There is no way I can walk far in these shoes.”

  Rolling the window down, she waited for the fairy to exit and zip ahead. Within seconds the tiny green ember zigged and zagged in front of her car before speeding ahead and disappearing into the distance.

  Estele waved. “There she goes! Find me a good parking space.”

  Chapter 3

  VAL SAT THE BAR OF the Voodoo Hoodoo cocktail lounge listening to a couple of shrunken heads set atop shot glasses having an odd conversation. Technically he wasn’t “listening.” He was mentally eavesdropping. The dried and enchanted human heads from Borneo were wary of his presence and cautious not to say a word aloud, yet he was certain they were conscious entities capable of speech.

  The kitschy Tiki lounge was a weird place for sure. Large fish tanks filled with electric eels provided most of the ambient light. The murky-looking counter setup with its many hand-labeled apothecary bottles appeared better suited to a waterfront bar in nineteenth-century Rangoon. The place crawled with supernatural vibes that were impossible for any sensitive soul to miss.

  A tall, slender man with long platinum hair and sparkling green eyes hovered behind the counter, staring at him from the corner of his eye like he expected trouble. The man was extremely seductive and off-putting at the same
time. He wasn’t even sure how that was possible.

  Green eyes leaned closer. “Are you certain I can’t make you something special to drink?”

  “I’m meeting someone.” Val glanced at his watch. “I want to give them a few more minutes.” It was 7:36. Estele was late. He began to worry she might not show, and that would be very bad. Bad for his personal mission, and very unfortunate for the community at large. He needed Estele.

  “Sid!” a woman called from the back door of the lounge. “Sidhe, can you hear me? I need a reward for my Parking Fairy!”

  Mr. Shifty behind the counter, presumably named Sid, removed a small saucer from the shelf, dropped a sugar cube into the center, and soaked it with a liberal drizzle of emerald green absinthe. The brisk herbal scent of anise filled the air. He carried the dish to the back door.

  “I’ll set this on the dashboard for my Fae.” The woman sounded breathy. “No worries, I won’t say those words you don’t like even though I really appreciate your kind gesture.”

  Val recognized the owner of the voice as Estele. Relief washed over him. She was meeting him of her own free will, no enchantments or inducements of any sort. He’d played fair with her today, offering only good food and an encouraging smile. Nothing underhanded or hidden in the sauce, just fresh Oaxacan cuisine served straight up, no wizardly chaser.

  Even more promising, by feeding her Parking Fairy within earshot, Estele had just tipped her hand about being a card-carrying member of the enchantment community. That alone may have spared him hours of cloying conversation trying to ascertain if she was “out” or not. Obviously she was. True, she hadn’t seen him yet, but it would seem natural he’d overheard her from his place at the counter. This was a time-saver. Now he could get what he wanted from Estele even faster.

  A minute passed. Estele walked into the lounge with a bright smile on her ruby lips and a cloud of glossy black hair surrounding her face. He froze, breathless; she looked beautiful, and more womanly than the dejected-looking punk pinup he’d first glimpsed this afternoon in the LuLu Beauty Academy parking lot.