Arcane Solutions (Discord Jones) Read online

  “You’re quite welcome. I’ll let Lesley know I spoke with you today.”

  “Thanks.” I ended the call and sat back with a frown. After thinking about it, it didn’t seem quite as odd that he wouldn’t have any real kind of relationship with Zoe. After all, my dad’s new wife would pretend I didn’t exist, if she could get away with doing so.

  I logged onto the computer to settle in for a few hours of tedium. Records research never fails to be brain numbing.

  By six o'clock, I had a list of seven human-owned Goth clubs printed out, in order of closest to my apartment. Nick had stopped in briefly to let me know the Fent report was finished. We'd agreed to meet at my place the following evening.

  Logging off, I was more than ready to end the day. Collecting my things and the list, I headed out to the parking lot. Damian's car pulled in with Illy's head hanging out of the passenger window. “Hey, guys!”

  “Hi. Thought I'd drop him off so you didn't have to make a trip out,” the warlock said. “He'll make his way home in the morning, Cordi.”

  “Cool. I appreciate it.” Opening the passenger door, I shut it after the husky jumped out, and bent to wave. “See you later.”

  “Bye.” With a wave and smile, Damian drove off. Illy trotted over to my car and waited patiently until I opened the door for him.

  Once we were both in, I said, “I have to stop at the grocery store first. You stay in the car this time, okay?”

  He grinned in answer, which didn't give me much confidence that he'd obey. When he poked his nose at the side window, I leaned and rolled it down. “I'm serious. Stay in the car, no begging treats from kids this time. There's a steak in it for you, bub.”

  Head tilting, he thought about it, and then licked his chops. Laughing, I started the car and put it in gear while the husky shoved his head out the window. He likes riding with me.

  Eleven

  Thanks to Illy's presence, my night wasn't nearly as horrible as I'd thought it would be—with the added bonus of steak-scented, dog-slobber facials waking me up each time the demon appeared in my dreams.

  With no new insights or psychic sparks, and it being Saturday, I decided it was a good day to play hooky.

  I hadn't seen or spoken to either of my parents in almost a week, so after watching the husky blink out for home, I left too. Mr. Mitchell’s coldness had left an itch that could only be scratched by touching base with the people who’d created me.

  My parents were an odd couple from the start, with my mom being twelve years older than my dad and a dyed-in-the-wool hippie chick. Dad was twenty-three when I was born, already beginning to climb the corporate ladder at the advertising agency. During my three-year nap, they'd gotten divorced.

  It seemed that watching your comatose daughter slowly waste away to bones put a harsh strain on a marriage.

  Mom was still single. Dad remarried a year after their divorce and presented me with two half-brothers by his new, younger wife, Betty. Because Dad does have his new family, I drove to the New Age center my mom works at first.

  “Cordi!” She rose, leaving the circle of people where she was conducting a crystal loving session. The goal was to infuse various types of crystals with positive vibes, but it always looked like some make out session gone horribly wrong to me.

  People sat around, stroking and hugging rocks. They're so serious about it that I can't laugh. One time, I'd brought Kate with me. The witch had taken a look, pivoted on one stiletto-heeled boot and told me she'd be waiting in the car.

  Percy had stayed, until I threw him out for making too many X-rated suggestions on better ways to infuse crystals.

  “Hi, Mom.” She'd reached me, and we hugged. The smell of lavender and rose wafted into my nose, causing my eyes to water a little. It had been the first thing I’d smelled, as I woke from my coma while she kissed my forehead.

  “You look tired.” She smiled. “You haven't been balancing work and fun properly.”

  “It's been a little tough to lately.” Though there was Nick, and sex with him was definitely fun, if not completely satisfying.

  She patted my cheek. “I have an extra crystal.”

  “Uh…” I groped for an excuse and came up empty. “Okay.”

  The things I do for the woman who gave birth to me. Shrugging off my jacket, I smiled and said hello to those I knew while sitting down next to Mom. She handed me a large, decidedly phallic-shaped, pink kunzite.

  After surveying it with more than a little disbelief, I reluctantly began fondling the damn thing. “So, what have you been up to?”

  “Harvesting herbs and work. I was planning to call you this evening. Tina would like for you to come to her lying-in party.”

  And there you have the reason why I've developed an obsession about birth control.

  Lying-in parties are home births. I challenge anyone to watch a woman sweat and groan while squatting to squirt out a bloody, furious baby, and see how scarred for life they end up being.

  “Any idea when?” I was hoping work would interfere, because I couldn't say no without hurting both my Mom’s and Tina’s feelings. I've been to twenty-seven lying-in parties, and fourteen of them were prior to my coma. My parents had both been big on the idea of everything being an open book to me when it came to life.

  Or maybe to scare me into waiting on sexual exploration for as long as possible. They needn’t have bothered, what with my three-year time-out and then getting a handle on my abilities. I’d been twenty before I had dared risk getting naked with my boyfriend at the time.

  He’d been a good sport the first couple of times about having to duck flying objects, but it got old fast, so he soon moved on to a girl who didn’t have psychic abilities that went haywire in the middle of sex.

  “Two weeks or so. Dates are allowed,” she informed me.

  The image of Nick's face if I asked him to go with me caused a mad case of the giggles to strike. Glancing down at the crystal penis I was holding caused a total loss of control. I laughed until tears poured down my face and I was in danger of dropping it.

  Laughter like that is usually infectious, so I wasn't the only one disrupting the hushed atmosphere of the center. I tried to stop, but met the watering eyes of a sixty-something dressed in a truly horrendous chartreuse muumuu and lost it all over again.

  It felt good, even though my sides were aching by the time I'd lapsed into sniffling hiccups. Say what you will about hippie and New Age types, most are sweet people who love to share a laugh, even if they don't get the joke.

  Eyes closed, hysterical bursts of giggles escaped while I listened to others trying to cool their hilarity jets. “God, I needed that.”

  “Looks like it,” Mom gasped, patting my knee. I couldn't restrain myself. I had to ask.

  “Dates? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Slapping a hand over my mouth, I muffled another explosion of laughter.

  “Did you have someone in mind to ask?” Mom's question caused my eyes to pop open and all silliness to leak immediately away.

  “Not really.”

  My mother is better than a vampire at sensing blood—metaphorically speaking. “But you're seeing someone?”

  Uh oh, trapped. I will totally lie to her about my work, to keep her from worrying, but I can't do it about anything else. “Well, yeah. I mean, sort of.”

  “Tell me about him,” she demanded, eyes lighting up. Since I had no choice, I complied.

  “We work together. His name is Nick Maxwell and he's a shifter.” Catching my breath, I held it to wait for her reaction to that bit of info.

  She blinked, and then beamed. “I'm so proud of you for being open-minded!” Looking around at our erstwhile audience, she informed them, “I taught her that.”

  It was the truth, since Sunshine Breeze Jones was the most open-minded person I knew. That's Mom's name, which she had legally changed back in the mid-sixties. I have to admit that I do fall short of the whole open-minded bit when it comes to the ‘vamp
ires are people too’ theory she has.

  “What does he look like?”

  I resigned myself to spending at least an hour satisfying her curiosity.

  ***

  I wasn't far off the mark. Leaving the center forty-five minutes later, with the kunzite in hand because Mom had insisted, I was relieved she hadn’t asked if I'd had sex with Nick yet. Talking to Jo about it was one thing. My mom? No way, even though she had the same sort of view as my friend.

  Once in my car, I tossed the crystal into the back before pulling out my phone to call Dad. His first question was, “How’s my girl?”

  “Fine, dandy, and on my way over, if you guys aren’t busy.” I never just showed up, because of his new wife. The second time around, Benjamin Thomas Jones had picked out a woman who knew how to handle the corporate social scene.

  “If you hurry, you’ll be in time for lunch.” Dad sounded pleased.

  “I’ll hurry. See you in a few.” Putting my phone away and starting my car, I backed out of the parking space and waved at a couple of the crystal huggers on their way out. The drive wasn't long, with traffic proving no more traffic-y than usual at mid-day.

  Their two-story home was in Elmhaven, a development only a couple of miles from my apartment. Jonah and Sean attacked the instant I stepped out of my car. “Cordi!”

  Pretending to fall down, I rolled on the grass with them for a few minutes before we went to join Dad, who waited on the porch. “I think they’ve missed me.”

  “Looks like it. Give me a hug.” Hugs exchanged, we went inside. Betty stepped out of the kitchen long enough to say hello and refuse my offer of help. We didn’t hug.

  Betty's afraid of me, but convinces herself that she doesn't like me because I'm a freak. She also has some deep security issues about Mom. After all, Dad was married to her for eighteen years.

  Dipping into her mind wasn’t required. Betty had no shield at all. Every thought slid right out, loud and clear. I strengthened my shield, to keep from hearing her.

  There are times I wish my parents would get back together, but then I remember how devastating it had been to wake up and discover they'd divorced two years after the fact. My little brothers are five and three, and I adore them, so don't want them to have to deal with divorce.

  I'd love to spend more time with them, but Betty's fear and paranoia are too difficult be around for more than a few hours at a time. She loves Dad enough to put on a convincing show of sincerely enjoying my visits. I have to respect her for that, and try to make it easy as possible for her to keep that façade in place.

  Sometimes, people just can't help the way they feel. Of course, I could suggest that she not be afraid of me, and make things more comfortable for us both. But aside from being totally self-serving, it would cross the line I’ve drawn for myself in the sands of morality.

  Gently nudging something already in place was one thing, in the interest of, say, saving someone’s life. Making someone feel the opposite of their true feelings was entirely different.

  Lunch was nice, with the boys telling their pre-school and kindergarten adventures, Dad a little about his work, and Betty chattering about how busy she was. She’s a stay-at-home mother who doesn’t stay home much. There are lunches with her friends, tennis lessons, and charity works. Betty’s a real social maven.

  After dessert, which was pineapple upside down cake, we went out to the backyard. The boys played fetch with the Cocker Spaniel Betty had decreed a proper pet. The poor dog’s name was Amadeus. Neither of the boys could pronounce it correctly yet.

  “How’s work?” Dad asked once we were at the patio table, enjoying fresh lemonade.

  I tell Dad everything. He’s never been satisfied with just a highlights reel. Though he worries, he also has a hefty amount of confidence in my ability to take care of myself. “I have an elf as a client. That case seems to have a cult and demons involved.”

  “Demons?” Betty paused in the act of pouring lemonade, her eyes so wide, white showed all the way around. She’s blonde and blue-eyed, like Mom.

  “In a vision. I haven’t seen one up close or anything. According to people who would know, that one is probably already back where he belongs.”

  “Oh. Well, good.” With a weak attempt at a smile, she went into the house. I had to admire her control, having caught her impulse to scurry away screaming.

  “I bet you could handle a demon, if you had to.” Dad’s smile was proud, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes.

  Deciding it was time to change the subject, I brought up my visit with Mom. “She said Tina wants me to come to her lying-in party. Get this: dates are allowed.”

  Dad stared at me for exactly two seconds, and then we both cracked up.

  He walked me out to my car about an hour later, arm around my shoulders. “You are being careful.”

  “Of course. In fact, I have a partner now. Whitehaven hired a shifter as backup muscle for me.”

  Dad’s relief was barely perceptible. “Good. What kind of shifter?”

  “Wolf. His name is Nick. Hates my driving.” My dad is an intelligent man, but he completely lacks Mom’s nose and never notices there’s a man in my life unless told.

  “I’d like to meet him. Maybe we can have lunch one day.” I agreed, hugged him, and we said good-bye.

  Halfway home, it occurred to me that we’d forgotten a key component for our evening’s plan of club crawling. Digging out my phone, I called Nick. “Hey, about tonight. We need to dress the part.”

  “Go Goth?” He didn’t sound enthusiastic about the idea.

  “Yeah. We better meet earlier, so we have time to shop.”

  “Sure. I can be at your place in about twenty minutes.”

  “Sounds good. See you there.”

  ***

  A few hours later, shopping finished and dinner eaten, we were in my bedroom. Nick held up a hand when I headed for him. “No. I am not wearing lipstick.”

  “But it’s black.”

  “Then you wear it. I’ve already let you paint my nails and put that gunk around my eyes.” He wiggled. “These pants aren’t comfortable.”

  Giving up the lipstick idea, I grinned. “But you look great in them.”

  “I feel like an idiot.” Picking at the studded collar around his neck, he sighed. “This, I truly hate.”

  “It’s hot on you, so deal with it.” I collected a tiny black purse, dropping my phone and keys into it, and then struck a pose. “How do I look?”

  “Sexy as hell.” The shifter’s leer was instant. “Can I peel you out of that later?”

  “Yeah, if you’ll stop bitching about dressing up.” Lacing the purple and black corset had required his help. It wasn’t coming back off without more assistance. “All right. Let’s go.”

  ***

  The first club was a bust, but gave us a chance to practice the right attitude. Walking into the second one, Nick embraced me from behind every time we paused for a few seconds. “What are you doing?”

  His head was lowered, lips and tongue playing over skin. I had to strain to hear him above the music and crowd. “Sex. There’s a lot of people having sex in here.”

  “Seriously?” Looking around, I didn’t see anything going on. People danced, drank, and stood around looking coolly bored. “Come on.”

  Moving through the crowd, we finally neared the back of the club. Nick’s arms felt like steel bands around me when we paused, and I flinched as his teeth scraped my neck. “Stop that.”

  “Can’t.” It was a mumble, and he began to lean heavily on me, easing us towards a velvet covered fainting couch. Dropping my shield a little, I picked up his thoughts: he wanted us down, so that he could do something about the need that had begun building the second we entered the club.

  My knees buckled at the heavy insistence of the lust he felt, but I managed to lock them by concentrating on and sending one loud thought. I am not going to let you do me in front of an audience.

  The mental contact
shocked him enough that his grip loosened and he straightened up. Dropping my shield more, a telepathic scan proved that he was correct. There were a lot of people having sex in rooms behind the back wall.

  We’d walked into a Gothic sex club. The business records hadn’t mentioned that. I had to fan my face. Great.

  No one was thinking about demons, just their next sexual position. Closing my shield, I dragged the shifter back through the crowd and outside. It wasn’t until we reached my car that I noticed his eyes were more gold than brown. “Nick? Are you all right?”

  He took several deep breaths, expelling each in loud sighs. Shaking his head, the shifter offered a rueful smile. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry about the brain smack.” I had learned something new to add to my list of information about shifters. They became aroused at the smell of others having sex. “Let’s call it a night.”

  As we were driving back to my apartment, the shifter glanced at me. “I’ll go home.”

  “You did mention wanting higher than an eight.” I was already anticipating his efforts to climb the scale.

  Twelve

  Sunday is the one day Arcane Solutions officially closes every week, so we slept in. It was almost noon before either of us stirred. We took turns showering, and I swallowed down my no pregnancy insurance while cooking brunch. Nick silently nursed a cup of coffee, until the food was ready.

  “This looks good.” He smiled.

  “Cowboy omelets. Let me get the bacon.” Grabbing that and the coffee pot, I returned to the table and sat down. “The next two clubs aren’t open until Wednesday night, so we’ll hit them then.”

  “Right. Mind doing a little more research to make sure they’re not…” My giggles interrupted him, and he dropped his head over his plate. “It’s not funny, Cordi.”

  I had to fight to sober up. His words to the contrary, he’d still been affected enough for three rambunctious episodes the night before. I could now mark ‘done on the living room floor’ off my bucket list. That was how far we’d made it before he’d unlaced the corset. “Sorry. Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be. Not anymore than when I couldn’t control my cryo ability, and kept freezing every drink I picked up.”