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Authors: Charisma Cole
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said impatiently.
"The girl was driven mad," Sia finished. "She eventually hung herself."
I gulped as a chill ran down my spine. "If you're trying to make me feel better about a supernatural and a human making it work, you're doing a bang up job."
Sia smirked. "I thought humans liked honesty."
"Hell no," I laughed. I bit my lip as I sunk my fingers into the earth beside me. "Not if the truth is hard to swallow."
"Excuse me?" The voice was bright and warm.
I shielded my eyes and saw a frazzled looking woman standing over me. She had a baby propped on her hip and a toddler that nipped at her knees.
"This is going to sound random, but my husband is trying to park but he's directionally disabled," she said as she shook her head. She gestured at a large multicolored blanket a few feet from ours. "Would you mind just keeping an eye on our things while I go find him?"
I could feel Sia's eyes go wide with delight. "Sure, we'll watch your kids!"
The woman's face brightened. "I was just going to get you to watch the blanket, but if you could-"
"Eko forenm zopatio," I said under my breath as I did a charm spell. Fairies were drawn to children like vamps to blood. Sia wasn't going to have a midday snack while I was around.
Sia stuck out her tongue at me. "My friend actually hates kids, so we'll just watch your stuff."
"Oh," the woman said and gave me a strange look. She eyeballed an older couple beside us. "Thank you anyway."
I shook my head at Sia once the woman was out of earshot. "You're a piece of work."
"What?" she said innocently. "I would have been gentle. Ish."
I laid back on the blanket and sighed as my body relaxed. I turned my head slightly. There was a young couple, slicing French bread and strawberries. They looked so happy and carefree and blissfully normal. I'd never have a moment like that with Jack. I squeezed my eyes shut, not ready to accept the truth. I had something in common with whomever he fed on last night...neither of us would get our happy ending.
Chapter Ten
Cold, Hard Bitch
In the city, a modest apartment would cost 1800 a month--and when I say modest, I mean a studio that one shared with two other people.
For half that, I had a luxury apartment in the heart of Raleigh, minutes from Glenwood South. I could still remember seeing the posh building for the first time. The fanciful architecture reminded me of some gothic science fiction novel, filled with vaulted ceilings and high-tech gadgetry.
My apartment lacked most of the pomp and circumstance. I only had a bed, a thrifted couch and coffee table, an old box tv that worked when it felt like it, and a dresser.
Growing up, my father was one of the precious few televangelists who didn't live in multimillion dollar homes, paid for by some poor sap down on their luck. He always taught me that a clutter free home (e.g. No pesky LCD tv's or fancy furniture) equaled a clutter free spirit. It was just about the only Dad-ism that stuck, but there was something about living in a building that I wouldn't be able to even walk inside in NY that was hard to pass up.
I flicked on the light switch in the kitchen and the modest kitchen was illuminated. Most of my food consisted of stuff that could be zapped-Ramen, tv dinners, etc. But I wasn't looking for something to quell my appetite...the woman from the coffee shop, Amy Jones, would be arriving any minute.
I pulled open the cabinet above the stove and pulled out my spice carousel. I swiped lavender, cinnamon, and wormwood--all agents to clarify and soothe the portal between our world and The All. Hopefully it would also aroma-therapize the woman's lover. Usually if the ghost died a violent death, or if the connection summoning them had unfinished business/last contact was a throwdown argument, things could get a bit dicey.
I grabbed my blanket I used for spellwork and spread it in
"The girl was driven mad," Sia finished. "She eventually hung herself."
I gulped as a chill ran down my spine. "If you're trying to make me feel better about a supernatural and a human making it work, you're doing a bang up job."
Sia smirked. "I thought humans liked honesty."
"Hell no," I laughed. I bit my lip as I sunk my fingers into the earth beside me. "Not if the truth is hard to swallow."
"Excuse me?" The voice was bright and warm.
I shielded my eyes and saw a frazzled looking woman standing over me. She had a baby propped on her hip and a toddler that nipped at her knees.
"This is going to sound random, but my husband is trying to park but he's directionally disabled," she said as she shook her head. She gestured at a large multicolored blanket a few feet from ours. "Would you mind just keeping an eye on our things while I go find him?"
I could feel Sia's eyes go wide with delight. "Sure, we'll watch your kids!"
The woman's face brightened. "I was just going to get you to watch the blanket, but if you could-"
"Eko forenm zopatio," I said under my breath as I did a charm spell. Fairies were drawn to children like vamps to blood. Sia wasn't going to have a midday snack while I was around.
Sia stuck out her tongue at me. "My friend actually hates kids, so we'll just watch your stuff."
"Oh," the woman said and gave me a strange look. She eyeballed an older couple beside us. "Thank you anyway."
I shook my head at Sia once the woman was out of earshot. "You're a piece of work."
"What?" she said innocently. "I would have been gentle. Ish."
I laid back on the blanket and sighed as my body relaxed. I turned my head slightly. There was a young couple, slicing French bread and strawberries. They looked so happy and carefree and blissfully normal. I'd never have a moment like that with Jack. I squeezed my eyes shut, not ready to accept the truth. I had something in common with whomever he fed on last night...neither of us would get our happy ending.
Chapter Ten
Cold, Hard Bitch
In the city, a modest apartment would cost 1800 a month--and when I say modest, I mean a studio that one shared with two other people.
For half that, I had a luxury apartment in the heart of Raleigh, minutes from Glenwood South. I could still remember seeing the posh building for the first time. The fanciful architecture reminded me of some gothic science fiction novel, filled with vaulted ceilings and high-tech gadgetry.
My apartment lacked most of the pomp and circumstance. I only had a bed, a thrifted couch and coffee table, an old box tv that worked when it felt like it, and a dresser.
Growing up, my father was one of the precious few televangelists who didn't live in multimillion dollar homes, paid for by some poor sap down on their luck. He always taught me that a clutter free home (e.g. No pesky LCD tv's or fancy furniture) equaled a clutter free spirit. It was just about the only Dad-ism that stuck, but there was something about living in a building that I wouldn't be able to even walk inside in NY that was hard to pass up.
I flicked on the light switch in the kitchen and the modest kitchen was illuminated. Most of my food consisted of stuff that could be zapped-Ramen, tv dinners, etc. But I wasn't looking for something to quell my appetite...the woman from the coffee shop, Amy Jones, would be arriving any minute.
I pulled open the cabinet above the stove and pulled out my spice carousel. I swiped lavender, cinnamon, and wormwood--all agents to clarify and soothe the portal between our world and The All. Hopefully it would also aroma-therapize the woman's lover. Usually if the ghost died a violent death, or if the connection summoning them had unfinished business/last contact was a throwdown argument, things could get a bit dicey.
I grabbed my blanket I used for spellwork and spread it in
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