Alchemy With Benefits

by Katalina Leon

  With a tilt of her delicate head, Estele appeared to be studying him. “How old are you now?”

  “I’m twenty-six.”

  “You mastered the art in only four years? I’m twenty-two and I’ve been a bad witch my entire life.”

  He laughed. “I never said I mastered the art. I became proficient enough to know I should continue to the next level.”

  “Which is?”

  “For a brujo?” He clasped his hands in front of him and hoped he didn’t appear terrified. “Magical partnership with an ally.”

  She nodded. “You should adopt a rescue dog. They’re grateful, smart, and I hear they make excellent allies. I have a friend who volunteers at a pet shelter. I could hook you up with a paw-tastic ally.”

  Swallowing hard, he continued. “Estele, I was hoping to recruit you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Me? What are you thinking? A dog might be more teachable.”

  “I disagree, and I’m not sure I need to teach you anything.”

  Her brows lifted. “I’m confused. I feel like I’m being set up here. You think I’d make a good magical ally? That’s just evil or extremely foolish! Either way, something’s not adding up. You’re too handsome. Too easy to talk to.” She leaned across the table and poked him in the chest. “Look at all this muscle. Is this even real? Or is it a spellcast exterior glamour? I’ll bet you’re really a bony little 103-year-old perve-toad.”

  Her odd form of flattery made him want to burst out smiling, but he was afraid to come off smug. “I’m into weight lifting. I have to stay active. I work with food all day.”

  “Another thing.” She pointed to a tattoo on her arm of an Irish Claddagh, a heart clasped between two hands. “Is your name really Valentine? Or was that a made-up thing to get my attention? I’m asking because all my friends know the heart is my lucky totem.”

  Reaching for his wallet in his back pocket, he withdrew his driver’s license and set it on the table.

  She picked up the license with dainty fingers, tilting it to make the embossed hologram flash. “It looks official. Valentine Del Toro. Male....” She smirked. “Obviously. Born October 27. That makes you a Scorpio. I’ll consider myself warned. According to the California Department of Motor Vehicles you are indeed twenty-six years old. Current residence is listed as 113 Larkswood Lane. Black hair, brown eyes, six-foot-four, 203 pounds.” She returned the license. “Taken as a whole, very provocative reading. You’re really six four? I’m barely five two. I can’t even imagine what being so tall would feel like.”

  “You see a lot of crooked hair partings.”

  She touched her hair. “Really?”

  “Your hair looks lovely, and the part is perfectly straight.”

  “The license says you live in Mission Beach. Two hundred miles and untold agonizing hours in urban traffic make the distance a very impractical commute. Why would a brujo show up in San Buena today to serve lunch?”

  “Tio Bruno said we were called here on special assignment.”

  “This afternoon, you said it was an emergency. Who called you?”

  He shrugged. “The universe? There were many signs, portents, and dreams calling us here.”

  “Signs and portents? That sounds like double talk for bitch-I-haven’t-told-you-anything.” Estele picked up the pitcher and poured more mojito into her glass. “Should we finish this off? I need a drink.” She emptied the last of the contents into his glass. “Go for it. What the hell.”

  Raising the tumbler to toast, he clinked his glass against hers. “To battle we go. Hell is closer than we think.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That was a weird toast to make.”

  “It’s the truth. Haven’t you sensed power building in the last few days? There is a great vortex of evil forming under our feet. I feel it churning.”

  Tipping the tumbler to her lips, Estele took a long gulp. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.”

  “Uh!” She set her empty glass down. “Why did I finish my drink? Now I have to sit here thinking, ‘What a gorgeous guy. Too bad he’s a nutjob.’”

  “Estele, dark forces are at work. They mean to do great harm to the city of San Buena. I came here to find my ally and do battle against malevolence. It’s true.”

  “OKAY.” ESTELE HEAVED a tense breath. This evening was turning into a sticky tar pit of unwelcome weirdness. When was she ever going to meet a nice guy and have it work out? “Do you always talk this way?”

  Val smoothed his palm across his wavy locks. With his hair pushed back, his rugged cheekbones were clearly displayed. The arch of his full lips turned downward, lending his dramatic facial features a certain sobriety. His gaze smoldered. The dude had to know he looked hot. “Talk how?”

  “All high and mighty. Like you’re the final word on the subject. Thank-God-I’m-here type of thing.”

  “Am I doing that?”

  “Yep.” Good Goddess, Val was dressed so nice too. An earthy red shirt the color of garnet and ink-washed jeans. Fancy leather-tooled boots. Jeez Louise. Her typical date usually dressed like a beach bum in ragged shorts and flip-flops. She fixated on a thick silver cuff inlaid with a large chunk of finest chocolate-veined turquoise. She suspected it was a wizardly power tool or object used to store enchantment.

  “You’re staring at the cuff.” He lifted his wrist. “Do you see the coyote pattern? Coyote is my totem spirit. The cuff was made expressly for me.”

  “Coyote suits you. You do know San Buena has a very active and diverse enchantment community? I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but this afternoon you parked your taco truck right in front of the Master Mage Magic Academy, which is sort of a vocational school for adult witches and warlocks. Don’t you think that in a town filled with Lycans, Druids, and Wiccanites one or more of us would have picked up on the ‘vortex of evil building beneath our feet’? Dude, don’t insult us.”

  “First, Tio Bruno and I knew about the Master Mage Magic Academy. We sensed magic being practiced and drove straight to it. We even paid off the other food truck to get him out of the way for a little while. Second, evil is sly. As you say, the enchantment community of San Buena is active and strong. It presents a tempting target for dark forces who would wish to move in and exploit the situation. My guess is an attack on San Buena has been planned over many months, perhaps years. Slowly, in subtle increments, small amounts of evil have accumulated below in a bubble of malevolent energy. It was done in such way that one who lived here would never notice. Only an outsider looking in would sense the danger. A crucial stage has passed. I assure you, the threat is imminent.”

  Chills rippled up her arm. “Eww. And what exactly do these dark forces want?”

  He lowered his voice. “Estele, they want you.”

  “Me? You mean they want the witches of San Buena.”

  Rolling up his sleeve to display the pinup girl in combat boots, he thrust his arm forward. “The prophecy says they want you.”

  She grew flustered. “Nonsense! Whose prophecy? Anyone can make up a prophecy. Why should I be listening to any of this? Your story is all jacked-up.”

  “The prophecy was told to me by an old bruja, a wisewoman who lived in the mountains of Oaxaca. Her prediction marked the end of my apprenticeship and the beginning of my ‘first flight,’ or first time working in the field with a power ally. I was told to go north, find my ally, and that we would walk into battle together. I was given a permanent mark so that I might always be bonded to my ally. An appointment with an ink-wizard was made.”

  “Wait!” she interrupted. “Ink-wizard? Is there such a thing?”

  “Yes. An ink-wizard is a mage who specializes in enchanted tattoos and sacred marks. Not all of them show on the surface of the skin, but mine does.”

  She pointed to the Wiccan symbols tattooed on her arm. “I love ink! I gotta find one of those ink-wizards and finish this sleeve.”

  “Receiving my mark was a solemn occasion. For my sacred mark, I was expecting
something powerful, along the lines of an eagle, a storm cloud, a scorpion, but instead....” He pointed to the Betty Page tattoo on his forearm. “I got a pinup girl as my ally. Now the evil ones want you.”

  The breath left her body. Did he mean it, or was she being suckered into a tall tale? “It can’t be me. I don’t believe a word of it.” She glanced around the thatched booth. “I’ve never been so grateful in all my life to not have a shrunken head sharing our table. They’re so gossipy. I don’t want anyone to know any of this. I’ll admit I’m capable of causing plenty of trouble on my own. I don’t need nasty rumors following me around that I’ve somehow been earmarked by evil to do harm to the community. I’d never do that.”

  His brows knit together. “I believe you. If you were ever to commit evil, it would be because you were tricked into doing so. That is why the fates have sent me here as your protector and ally.” He thumped his fist on his chest. “I am your living shield. Evil will have to go through me to get to you. I will not allow you to be compromised. From now on, I shall be at your side—constantly.”

  She gasped. “Hold on a minute! Wow, this date for drinks took a fast, hard left. What are you talking about?”

  “Malevolent forces may try to use you. I am here to make sure that does not happen. I am your personal caballero, knight-errant. From now on, you will remain in my line of sight and within earshot. I will sleep at the foot of your bed like a loyal servant until imminent danger passes.”

  “Ha!” She laughed. “This is a joke, right? Brujo humor gone astray?”

  Val’s dark eyes remained earnest. “This is no joke. I am sincere. Place your hand on my heart and you will know I am sincere.”

  She drained what was left of the mojito. “Baby, this isn’t going to work. I’m not that gullible. Seriously, what would dark forces want with me? I’m a magical hit-and-run accident in progress.”

  He leaned across the table, his gaze intense. “I disagree. You have tremendous potential.”

  “You really think so?” Then, remembering she had the Heart of Hecate, a priceless ruby of power, in her purse sobered her. Was it possible Mr. CrossFit-brujo-ha-ha wanted the stone for his own undisclosed purpose? In folklore, wasn’t coyote the ultimate trickster? If ever there was a time to be discreet, this was it. But how would he even know about it? With the monster rock in her purse, she was vulnerable as hell, and wondered why in all witches-dunking-stool-damnation kooky old Griselda handed the gem to her. All of this was too much to fathom. “You seem to have a clear overview of the situation. So tell me, where is it?”

  Val’s gaze narrowed. “Where is what?”

  “The bubble of malevolence.” Her tone was abrupt.

  A somber expression etched a ridge between his brows, he pointed. “West. Where the land meets the sea. Great tension is building and we must suppress it.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing. Something about the way Val said it and the look on his face finally broke through her resistance. It registered that he could be telling the truth.

  In a flash she had one of her strongest psychic moments ever. In a fast-forward blast of images, she saw them working together as a team to battle a threatening mushroom cloud of grinning clown faces. The terrifying image left her shaking. As weird as matters appeared, it seemed likely she was being paired with a brujo to accomplish Goddess-knew-what.

  “You’re pointing toward the fairgrounds. They’re setting up for the county fair. Are you telling me evil is coming to town served fried on a stick?”

  Chapter 4

  ESTELE WATCHED AS VAL stood with outreached hand. Dark and formidable, he looked exactly like the sort of demon force he professed to be battling.

  “Come with me.” His voice was low. “We’re done here. There’s not a minute to waste.”

  Her stomach rumbled. “No dinner? I’m hungry. I don’t remember agreeing to anything. What are we doing?”

  “Recon. Good intelligence is essential. A bubble of malevolence is just energy. It needs agents on the ground to carry out tasks. I want to see what we’re going up against.”

  “Slow down, Speed Racer! I’m not even sure what my contribution to ‘we’ is. Maybe we should formulate some sort of plan before we jump into the fray? I’m not afraid to admit that I’m an incompetent witch, and until you prove different, you’re not my live-in caballero. You’re just some guy from a taco truck.”

  He looked disappointed. “Estele, a moment ago I sensed you believed me and let down your guard. For a minute we were in agreement. It was a huge step toward bonding as allies.”

  She waved her hand. “Nix the bonding. Val, you’re a nice guy. You’re good-looking and a great cook, but you need to understand a brujo is the last person on earth I would trust. Drama and weirdness naturally gravitate to me. I don’t need a tricky brujo to lead me into yet even more trouble.”

  “So, your weak spot is self-doubt?”

  He said it with such certainty. Damn him. “Is that any of your business?”

  “Estele, you had a moment of clarity. You trusted me. I felt it, and now you’re talking yourself out of it. I can say from experience that trusting your initial impulse will bring better results in your magic.”

  “Sounds like a public announcement from the brujo advisory board.”

  His face remained calm. “Be as sarcastic as you like. Say it out loud and burn through your resistance. When you’re ready, we will work together.”

  “Your face is so stoic. You really believe we need to fight evil as a team, don’t you?”

  “I do. I might add, you owe it to the innocent people in this community to remain open-minded. They’re the ones who will be caught unaware. When we’re finished with the task at hand, you may formally dismiss me. Should you choose, you’ll never have to deal with me again.” He extended his hand. “I want you to be brave and honor your instincts. At this moment, we are charged with an important task.”

  Drawing a deep breath, she sensed Val was right. Part of her wanted to trust him. She couldn’t say exactly why; it was more of a feeling, a shiver in her bones. Clasping his hand, she grabbed her purse and scooted out of the booth. “Okay. I’ll go with you to the fairgrounds, just to check things out. But I’m not going to walk for blocks along the railroad tracks wearing these shoes. Forget it. Who’s driving?”

  “We need to take your car.”

  Terrific. They were doing recon on her dime and the demons, if there were any, would be scratching the paint off her car. “Use my car to hunt demons? Why?”

  “Tio Bruno dropped me off. I don’t have my truck with me. I couldn’t drive separately and keep an eye on you. Until the crisis passes we do everything together, understood?”

  “Everything everything? You can’t possibly mean that.”

  “I do. Please hand me your car keys.”

  “Excuse me? I’m capable of driving my own car.”

  “Very well.” His hand moved to the middle of her back and gave her a gentle nudge toward the door. “Go ahead. I stashed my gear behind the bar. I must retrieve it.”

  She stepped aside and watched as Val approached Sid.

  Sid leered. “Hey, brujo. You. Me. The storeroom?” He winked. “At least think about it.”

  The line of Val’s mouth drew taut. “May I have my duffel bag?”

  Sid disappeared behind the counter and emerged holding a large bag. “So, tell me the truth.” Sid shot her an insinuating look. “Maybe you’d rather take Estele into the back and peel that dress off her?”

  Val looked appalled. “Why are the Fae so ridiculously horny? I’m not even going to answer that question.”

  “Whatever.” Sid allowed the bag to drop from his hands onto the bar with a loud thump. “Whoops, it slipped.”

  Claiming the bag, Val frowned. “I hope you didn’t break anything.”

  “If I did”—Sid pouted—“I’ll kiss it and make it all better.”

  Val scowled, turned, an
d followed Estele outside the lounge. When he saw the VW a look of discouragement crossed his face. “Yours is the teeny car?”

  “Yep.”

  “I might need to buy food and equipment to fight evil.”

  “How much food and equipment? The back seat is filled with my beauty school supplies and magazines, and the trunk is the size of a bread box, so when you shop think freeze dried and concentrate.” She unlocked the passenger side door.

  He opened the door, setting the bag behind the seat before climbing in. “We will need to make many trips.”

  “Where?”

  “We will discuss a detailed battle strategy later. We will work this out together.”

  “We, we, we. You sound like one of the three little pigs.” Walking around the front, she opened the driver door and climbed in. “Oh Goddess.” The dashboard was covered in hundreds of tiny sugary footprints. Parking Fairy had partaken of the absinthe and danced up a storm. She turned toward Val, who was settling his big frame uneasily into the seat and fastening the seat belt. “Can you reach the back seat and hand me the packet of wet wipes? My Parking Fairy gets everything so sticky.”

  He felt behind the seat. “Here they are.” Handing the packet to her, he leaned forward to examine the dish with its puddle of emerald liquid and grainy mound of partially dissolved sugar. He dunked his fingertip into it and tasted the absinthe. “Sid stocks the good stuff.”

  “Sid makes the absinthe himself.”

  “I should have guessed. Fae love anything herbal.”

  Estele lifted the saucer with care. “I’m sure Parking Fairy has drunk her fill by now and fallen asleep. Technically this is driving with an open container. I better give this back to Sid.”

  His knees bumped the dash. “I’ll be here.”

  Exiting the car, she hurried back into the Voodoo Hoodoo lounge, being cautious not to slosh sticky absinthe onto her hands. She set it on the counter. “Sid, my Fae’s had all she can handle. She’s probably snoozing in the glove compartment by now.”