This finishes off my major accomplishments for the weekend. Enjoy the latest installement ♥!
Chapter 6
Mateo drove. I would have taken myself, but on the offbeat chance Caroleena drove and offered me a ride home, I wanted to be able to accept it. I also didn’t want to try and find parking at this time of the day.
“You have everything you need, right?” Mateo asked me. “Cash, credit cards, phone, keys?”
I nodded slowly, my attention on the crowds of people that walked by and around the car. I hate crowds. I really, really do. The last crowd I was mingling in ended with me getting a potato sack thrown over my head, and being dragged off in the dead of a Siberian winter to meet the man who would become my first master. From that day on, crowds were not my friends. That was another reason why I rarely went to these kinds of functions by choice.
Obviously, this wasn’t a choice of my doing.
Since Jeddah had never called Caroleena—and since I had to make up for screaming at him—finding her wasn’t optional. I absolutely had to find her. Had to find her, apologize to her, and pretend like I really wanted to buy a fucking dress with her in the middle of a possible invasion by Savino’s clan. Joy.
“Sairyn?”
I shook my head. The trip to la-la land was over. “Yeah?”
“I said take this.”
Mateo handed me a really nifty little knife. Nifty because it was made in that darker color of metal that’s really popular right now, and little because it was barely an inch long. I was going to ask him what the hell good a metal fingernail would do me, but I guess my expression had been enough.
“It is not to be used incase of a fight, but incase of an escape.”
My eyes got a little wider. I was going to be stuffed in a potato sack again, wasn’t I? “I thought you were supposed to be my bodyguard!”
He shook his head. “I will be, but you know I can’t stay too close to you. Not with this many witches around.”
“You’re not even going to be in the area?”
“They’ll notice me if I stay in one spot for too long, Sairyn.”
Mateo sighed and pinched his nose as much as he could without moving his glasses. Maybe he hadn’t had much of a chance to rest, either. Then again, since I’ve never seen him sleep before, he could have just been frustrated with me. Couldn’t imagine why.
“Listen,” he began, “I have every intention of staying close enough to see you, but I’m not going to lie—I probably won’t be close enough to reach you in time if something happens.”
“Great. And for my trouble, I get a thumbtack to defend myself with. This day is just getting better and better,” I said, and put the knife in my pocket. I was going to get out of the car and leave it at that, but then I remembered something. “Mateo?” He turned to face me. “Will the others be back tonight?”
He was quiet for longer than I felt comfortable with before he answered. “I don’t know, Sairyn.”
I stared at him. He stared at me. I think we both got just a little bit colder.
I had managed to find Caroleena window shopping just around the block. I was about to sneak up behind her and tap her shoulder when I realized the women she was talking to weren’t just passers by admiring the same dress. They were laughing and touching and…shit, she wasn’t alone. This complicated things.
It didn’t matter to me that Caroleena had friends that she wanted to hang out with; it mattered that they would be in my way. Since Caroleena isn’t really supposed to tell me anything important that the witches know about, that also means she can’t have any major connections to vampires. I don’t know how much she omitted when telling her friends about me, but I’m almost positive she didn’t say I was one of Jeddah’s best informants, so running up and telling her it wasn’t Jeddah who called her a few days ago probably wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do right now.
I was about ten feet away from her when it occurred to me that I hadn’t come up with a good reason to be here after blowing her off. At least, not a good enough reason that would both tell her how sorry I was, and let her know that something was wrong, without tipping off her friends. And I bet you my immortal soul that both of them are witches.
Before I could duck behind something and give myself a few seconds to think, Caroleena turned around, watching a blue and black butterfly floating on the air currents, and saw me in the process. Damned insect.
“Hey, I found you!” I said, and wove through a few people to get to her.
She didn’t look as angry as I thought she would. More surprised than anything. Her friends didn’t look so clueless—they were already scowling. Either she had been talking about me, or they didn’t want me ebbing in on their girl time. I was betting it wasn’t the latter.
“Sai? What are you doing here?” Caroleena furrowed her brow suspiciously. “I thought you said you were going to be busy.”
I shrugged as innocently as I could. “Things wrapped up quicker than I thought they would, and I really just wanted to be with you.”
I admit, that was a corny and completely uncharacteristic thing for me to say, but Caroleena was a smart girl—she knew when something was up. Unfortunately, I think her friends caught on, too. Crap. See, this is why I’m not a real spy. All I can do effectively is look and listen, not look, listen, and speak. If I have to speak, we’re screwed.
“That is probably the stupidest and most ridiculous lie I have ever heard you use on me…but I like it anyway,” Caroleena said, and winked at me. She was about to save the day. “So what did you do? Manage to convince your boss you were sick this time?” she asked, and hugged me. At least one of could think on our feet.
“I even licked my palms to make them feel clammy,” I said, and whispered “thank you” into her ear.
She smiled as she pulled away from me and introduced her friends. The taller one with the dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun, black mole on her cheek, ugly looking nose, and beady little pig eyes, was Belarda. An ugly name for an ugly woman. She had probably been an ugly baby, too. She looked like she should have been in her late forties, but I had the sense she was somewhere in her mid thirties. Judging by how leathery her skin looked, I would have said she came from California, but something about her seemed…off. I didn’t know what, but I didn’t care anymore—the other girl was prettier than a new penny, which happened to be her name, but spelled with an “i” because her mother was Japanese.
If Penni was Caroleena’s age, she was ancient. Everything about her screamed “just out of high school”, from the short bobbed haircut that was higher in the back than it was in the front, to all the gothic make-up she was still spending time to put on everyday. I liked her for that, but more so because she was the first one to talk to me like a civilized human being that was willing to give me a chance to prove myself a good friend.
A pity she wasn’t the one buying Caroleena’s ploy.
I don’t know how long we shopped for, but it was long enough to make me regret not getting much more than a cookie to eat today. I might have lasted until dinner time, but trying on dresses is hard work, and when you’re the only one in your group of girlfriends looking for one, they make you try each and every one of those damn things. None of them looked very good in my opinion, but Caroleena wanted me to get a blue one, so I did what she wanted. What can I say? Guilt makes you agree to things you’d normally scoff at.
The dress had a peasant blouse quality to it. It looked fine on my chest, but unusual against my arms and legs because they were darker. When demons are mixed with mortals, they usually take on the pigment and features of their mothers. Since I’m pretty sure my father had horns and spines, I am overwhelmingly relieved I look like my Arabian mother. My skin just doesn’t know how to tan evenly.
Before I totally passed out from hunger, we stopped at Delina’s Diner & Bar, affectionately called DD’s. Hers is the diner that most people see when they go down to the wharf, but can never get into unless they get there at two in the afternoon and stay until the evening rush. It’s always booked because it’s the best place in town, but if you’re a local witch, they always find room for you. Lucky for me, I had three.
We were seated in a booth facing the water, and a waitress dropped off some hot breadsticks for us to eat before our dinner got there. The goth-baby and I ordered rare-medium steaks—Caroleena and Belarda both went for the over-loved and underfed organic chicken. Pansies.
I was working on my third glass of wine when I started wondering where Mateo was. I hadn’t seen him all day, and since it didn’t loom like I’d get a moment alone with Caroleena tonight, I was hoping for an excuse to leave. It would have been perfect if he came crashing through the window right about now, but that was just a teensy bit unrealistic.
“So, Caroleena tells me your parents are traders,” Belarda said to me. And here I thought I was invisible to her.
“Yes, they are. They live in Paris right now.”
That story about my parents being traders in France was one of three lies I used when people wanted to know more about me. Telling them that I’m one-third succubus, my mother was an Egyptian courtesan two-hundred years ago, and that I have no idea who or where my father is, doesn’t usually go over too well.
Belarda looked at me as if she was already bored with me, and the conversation. “And why do you not live there with them?”
“Because I live here.” I know it sounded short, but if she wasn’t going to put forth any effort, neither was I.
“I did not mean to offend you. I just wanted to know why you would choose to live here, when you could live there.”
Oh sure, now she apologizes and makes me look bad. Now I have to be nice. “I like Seattle, and I like what it offers. Practicing any craft in Europe is still taboo in some countries, and I don’t like that restriction.”
“So you are a…witch, then?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then why do you care what we can and cannot do?”
“Because I practice laissez-faire.”
She paused. “You practice tolerance?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head slowly. “That makes little sense to me.”
“And this third-degree makes even less sense to me, but you are sure as hell trying to figure something out.”
“Alright!” Caroleena said, glancing at both of us. “Let’s just try to have a good night, ok? I for one would like to eat dinner and get home without claw marks all over my back.” She was still glancing between the two of us, but her eyes eventually stopped on Belarda.
She shrugged and said, “I was merely trying to understand her better. When you said her parents were in France, I assumed she was French. I did not think she was…Arabian.”
I didn’t like how she said that. “Egyptian,” I snapped, and a little bulb popped on in my head at the same time. “You’re African, aren’t you?” Belarda stiffened; I guess I was right.
Belarda was African—South African, I bet—and that would explain why her English was so carefully free of contractions, but had such a strangely accented undertone. That would also explain why she wasn’t overly fond of me; she was too busy looking down her nose. I wanted to ask her where in the hell shot got the nerve to be racist when she looked like her mother must have fucked Bingo, but a little shock of pins and needles across my shoulders stopped me. I don’t have many of the cool extra-sensory skills bestowed upon me, but I can feel power, and usually know when it’s a werewolf.
My first thought was that it had to be a pack member of Brad’s. I had slipped up a while back and told Brad about Jeddah’s problem, but it turned out to be a good mistake. Ever since he’s known, Brad has always managed to send a few fighters our way to stick around until Jeddah got his strength back. I don’t think he did it because he liked Jeddah that much. I think he did it so I wouldn’t get turned into pudding if a fight broke out. I’m made of tougher stuff than that, but I am more than happy to let him play hero. The issue I had right now was wondering why in the hell this guy would show up in wolf form. Was he trying to cause a panic, or just draw needless attention?
“Excuse me,” I said, and started to get up. Caroleena looked like she needed some reassuring that I wasn’t going to leave without her knowing. “Don’t worry, it’s not her,” I shot a glance to Belarda. “I just need to use the restroom. Be back in a flash.”
Caroleena relaxed a little. “Alright…I’m timing you,” she said, smiling.
It’s kind of creepy to know how serious she is about that, but if I can be obsessive-compulsive when counting stairs, I suppose it’s ok for her to be clock crazy.
It was tricky getting to the restroom through all those people I so dearly loathed having to squeeze between, but I made it with only a minor panic-induced sheen on my brow. Any other person would assume I was hot because the room was hot, but sweat from panic is cold. If anybody touched my skin right now, they’d swear I was fresh from the freezer.
I ran the water until it didn’t get any hotter, which was pretty damned hot. This place was build before regulations for water temperature in public places were in effect. I don’t know what that rule is, but the water here is just on this side of boiling. Ok, maybe not that hot, but it can sting you pretty nicely if you’re not careful.
I had to settle for a paper towel to soak and wipe my face with. I hadn’t worn much makeup because I had been in such a hurry to leave, so the only thing I knew I would need to fix was my lipstick. I didn’t wear mascara and eyeliner often because I always looked like I was wearing some anyway—compliments my mother.
Gazing at myself in the mirror, I could see where this day was already starting to wear on me. I could last maybe another twenty hours without any real sleep, but I really needed some before that. I did not want to be asleep when Jeddah needed us awake and at our best.
I was about two seconds away from digging my phone out of my purse and calling Mateo when Penni came into the restroom.
“Caroleena sent me in to make sure you hadn’t jumped out of the window.” When she spoke, it sounded like Betty Boop. Penni just had one of those itty-bitty voices, but it worked since she was barely five feet. If her head had been seven times larger than her body, I would have had to buy her a skimpy red dress.
“No, Belarda can’t get rid of me that easily. They say ‘some things never change’ for a reason, and if she doesn’t want to like me, she doesn’t have to.”
“Still, I should apologize for her. That was a very rude thing to say.” She puckered her lips and put on a fresh coat of black lipstick.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, getting out my own lipstick. “It’s her prerogative to like whomever she wants to like.”
She tapped her nails, which surprisingly, only had a clear coat. “But you would think she wouldn’t be so inclined to dislike another demon just because of where they were born and who they were born to.”
I froze just as I put the lipstick to my lips. The fact that I had done that already gave me away, but what harm can there be in playing stupid anyway? “What do you mean by that? Are you a demon?”
“Don’t be foolish Sairyneleet.” Her Betty Boop voice wilted a little around the edges, and a tiny sounding Russian accent started to show through.
My heart jumped in and out of my throat like a yo-yo. She knew my name. Anyone who knew my full name knew more about me than I wanted them to. I had a very bad feeling about this.
“Who are you?” I said, slowly straightening myself.
Penni shook her head. “The only thing that matters right now,” she flipped a switchblade, “is what you do in the next five minutes. One wrong move, and you’ll have more than just me to contend with.”
I could hear a growl coming from the small window at my back as soon as she’d said it, and knew for certain that I had just stepped into a trap.
Suddenly, her Betty Boop cuteness wasn’t so cute anymore.
