Nightfall: Blood Magic Book 1 Page 3

  I smiled. “I know. It’s becoming a bit of a problem.” I opened my fridge to show her the stacks of magenta coloured foil-wrapped bars cooling in the side compartment.

  “Oh, my goodness, you do have a problem. You need to enrol in TDA first thing in the morning.”

  “TDA?”

  “Turkish Delight Anonymous,” she explained, and I chuckled.

  “You’re right. I need help.” Pausing, I studied her. “Are you hungry? I could make an omelette?”

  Florence’s cheeks pinked. “I am a little h-hungry,” she admitted.

  “Say no more. One omelette coming right up.”

  ***

  When I woke up the following morning, Florence was gone again. She never overstayed her welcome, which was ironic because I kind of liked having her around. The apartment was far too quiet when I was here by myself, especially after Matthew …

  I cut off the thought before I could get too morose.

  I went to put on a pot of coffee when I saw a white envelope had been shoved under my door. Picking it up, I groaned. The letter was from my landlord informing me that my rent was being raised. I did the mental calculation and groaned again. Unless I got another job, I wasn’t going to be able to afford to keep living here. I dreaded to think of the sort of place I could afford, considering this neighbourhood was far from fancy.

  Yep. I was definitely going to have to search for another job, something during the day that didn’t conflict with my night shifts. Then I could just sleep whatever hours were available in between. It would be hell, but at least I wouldn’t have to move.

  Over breakfast, I went online and made a list of all the places close by that were hiring. I sent out applications to a few, though I was particularly drawn to a listing for an assistant in a holistic store called Indigo. I felt a strange pull and a tingle in my throat. It was almost like some inexplicable force was urging me to apply. Weird. I opened a new email and sent off my resume, not thinking much of it.

  Getting any of the jobs I applied for would be a long shot. I had no fancy education, no degree. I’d more or less entered the workforce the moment I finished school. I didn’t have any other choice since my dad couldn’t afford to pay for college.

  I briefly thought of applying to work at Crimson but wasn’t sure I wanted someone like Ethan Cristescu as a boss. He was beautiful, but was he a good person? The jury was still out. There was something sinister about the way he and his friends had acted around me. They were too … eager.

  Later that evening, I donned my work uniform and made the short walk over to Hagen’s. I was several hours into my shift when the last person I wanted to see walked through the door.

  Terry Vaine was Florence’s dad and the biggest scumbag I’d ever met. I didn’t understand how the very worst people could sometimes have absolute gems for children. Florence more or less raised herself.

  “My daughter’s been staying with you the last few nights and I’m here to put a stop to it,” Terry spat. He reeked of whiskey and cigarette smoke.

  “Your daughter doesn’t feel safe in her own home. I won’t deny her a safe place,” I replied, doing my best to stay calm and stand my ground when all I really wanted to do was tell Terry exactly where to shove his threats.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose right before the doors opened and … in walked Ethan Cristescu. What the hell was he doing here again? I spared him a brief glance as he picked up a basket and began shopping. Don’t tell me he’d decided to make this his regular place for groceries.

  “You’re a grown woman allowing a teenager to sleep on her couch,” Terry accused. “Don’t you think people will wonder what’s going on there?”

  “Your daughter is my friend, Mr Vaine, and like I said, I allow her to sleep on my couch because your behaviour makes her feel unsafe. If you want her to stop staying with me, then maybe you should change your ways so that you aren’t scaring the life out of your daughter.”

  “Listen here, you interfering little bitch, I’ll behave whatever way I like, and you’ll quit trying to lure my kid away from me, or I’ll call the police.”

  Okay, now I was mad. “You’ll call the police on me? How about I call child services and inform them about the bruises on Florence’s arms? Don’t think I haven’t noticed them.”

  At this, Terry lunged for me. “How dare you accuse …” His words died on his tongue because suddenly Ethan was there. He grabbed Terry by the shirt collar and shoved him away like he weighed nothing.

  “Leave. Now,” he roared, and the look of sheer terror on Terry Vaine’s face as he stared up at Ethan was a sight to behold. He practically stumbled over his own feet to get away from him, running from the store like a bat out of hell.

  Once he was gone, Ethan turned back to me. “I’m making something of a habit of saving your bacon.”

  I didn’t like the hint of smugness in his tone. “I was handling that just fine.”

  “He tried to attack you. Unless you’re hiding some secret Kung-Fu skills, if I wasn’t here, it wouldn’t have ended well for you, Sunshine.”

  “I don’t have to know Kung-Fu to be able to defend myself,” I said, folding my arms in annoyance. Ethan was right. Things could’ve gotten pretty ugly if he hadn’t shown up when he did. Terry wasn’t just scum, he also had an unpredictable temper.

  Ethan stared at me for a long moment, his features indecipherable, but then his expression softened. “That’s very kind of you to let his daughter stay in your apartment. I don’t know many people who would go out of their way like that.”

  I frowned. “How did you—”

  “I have excellent hearing.”

  “You must. You were all the way over on the other side of the store. You also got to us pretty fast. Actually, I’ve seen you move a little too fast a few times now.”

  “I ran track at school,” Ethan replied with a shrug. “I’ve always been faster than most.”

  “Well,” I said, clearing my throat. “Thank you for defending me, again, but what are you doing here? I’m sure there are much nicer places in this city for you to do your shopping.”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t get to see you if I went somewhere else,” he said with a charming smile. His perfectly styled hair practically glowed under the fluorescent store lights, and the angular, sculpted lines of his jaw and broad shoulders were the stuff of most women’s fantasies. Even his clothes were attractive. He wore a pristine white T-shirt—the high-quality kind rich people overpaid for from designer brands—with a fitted navy jacket and jeans that encased his long, powerful legs. He was excessively tall but somehow managed not to appear lanky. And yes, those golden eyes were his crowning feature. I wasn’t sure why he insisted they were golden brown. Some weird form of modesty perhaps?

  I looked down at my worn uniform and scuffed shoes, thinking about my shit job and even shitter bank balance, and realised there was no logical reason for us to be friends. We came from entirely different worlds.

  I was ninety-nine percent certain Ethan Cristescu had an ulterior motive, and I was just the right level of curious and reckless to play along.

  “You aren’t by any chance involved in human trafficking, are you?” I asked casually.

  His thick eyebrows drew together. “Of course not. Why would you ask such a question?” He actually sounded offended.

  “Just trying to figure out your game.” I reached out and took his basket of items, then proceeded to run them under the scanner.

  His lips twitched. “You think I’m here to traffic you?”

  “It’s one of several possibilities, but just so you know, I won’t be easily kidnapped. I’ve got a powerful kick and I’m not afraid to bite.”

  “Well, as intriguing as that sounds,” he said, a hint of flirtation in his tone. “I won’t harm you. I’m here for friendship. Nothing more.”

  “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’d just like to get to know you, Tegan.”

  I cocked
my hip, eyeing him sceptically. “Prove it.”

  He leaned his impressively large hands on the counter and examined me closely. “Were you born here?”

  “In Tribane? Yes, I grew up in a suburb just outside the city.”

  “Parents? Siblings?”

  “No siblings. My dad raised me, and my mother died when I was young. What about you?”

  “Delilah is my half-sister.”

  “The redhead from the club?”

  “Yes. I have a half-brother, too, but we’re not close. You could say we’re somewhat … estranged.”

  There was a flicker of sadness in his eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. “That must be tough.”

  “It is.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “My father died a long time ago, and my mother lives back in Romania.”

  “I’m sorry about your father. Do you visit your mother much?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes, at least once a decade,” he deadpanned.

  I gave a soft laugh. “Wow, that often?”

  “It’s often enough for me. How did your mother die?”

  I swallowed tightly, a brief image of the dark-haired woman flashing in my mind’s eye. “She had cancer,” I told him quietly.

  He reached out and placed his hand on mine. I emitted a tiny gasp at the feel of his cool, silky palm, the pleasantness of being touched taking over. I’d been living for the better part of a year without human affection, and I didn’t realise just how starved I was for it until this very moment. I met his gaze, and curiosity lay in his golden irises. I pulled my hand away from his and returned my attention to scanning his items.

  “You’ve bought quite a bit,” I commented.

  “It’s for Delilah. She likes to cook,” he replied, and before I could react, he reached out, his knuckles brushing just below my jaw. I froze, no idea what he was doing. Then I realised he was fixing the collar on my shirt.

  “It was sticking out,” he explained, his cool knuckles grazing my neck one last time before he withdrew.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, tingles running down my spine. I hadn’t … disliked it when he touched me. In fact, his touch somehow managed to override my misgivings about him.

  I packed his items into a bag and rang up the total. He handed me a credit card, and it felt intentional when his fingers skimmed mine. When the transaction was complete, he slid a small business card across the counter to me. “In case you’re ever in need of rescuing again,” he said with a suave little grin.

  “Knights in shining armour don’t exist. There’s always a catch,” I replied as he headed for the exit.

  His eyes twinkled at me. “That sounds like another challenge to prove you wrong.” With that parting line, he left, and I looked down at the small black business card, feeling an unreasonable amount of excitement that he’d wanted me to have his number.

  4.

  I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. Sitting, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I answered groggily. “Hello?”

  “Hello. May I speak with Tegan Stolle?” a prim, older-sounding gentleman asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “Ah, how do you do, Miss Stolle? My name is Marcel Girard. I’m calling about the store assistant position at Indigo. I was wondering if you could come in for an interview?”

  Just like that, my spirits lifted. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten a call back. “Yes, of course. I’m free today, if that’s convenient?”

  “Today is perfect,” Marcel replied. “Around two?”

  “See you then.”

  I hung up with a renewed sense of purpose before hopping into the shower. I blow-dried my hair, tied it up in a bun, and dressed in my nicest white shirt and grey trousers with black ballet flats. I ate a large breakfast, feeling hopeful for the first time in a while. Indigo was in a much nicer part of the city than Hagen’s. It’d be good to work somewhere that wasn’t constantly being robbed. There was also that odd fizzle of urgency that seemed to push me towards Indigo. Maybe I just really wanted a nice, easy job that was free of stress.

  Later that afternoon, I arrived for my interview with a few minutes to spare. Chimes rang above my head as I entered the store. It was the kind of place that sold crystals, incense, angel figurines, and books about Wicca. A man sat by the register drinking a cup of tea. He looked to be about sixty years old with his grey hair tied back in a ponytail. When he spotted me, he smiled widely, but as I finished climbing the steps of the mezzanine floor and came face to face with him, he narrowed his gaze, almost in suspicion.

  Um, okay.

  “Hi, I’m Tegan Stolle,” I began, smiling despite his wary expression. “I’m here for an interview with Marcel Girard.”

  He stared at me for a prolonged moment before blinking and seeming to gather himself. “Right, yes, I’m Marcel. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Stolle.”

  “Please, call me Tegan.”

  “Tegan, if I may be so bold, might I ask a question?” His voice was tentative and unsure. “It’s of a personal nature.”

  “Sure,” I replied, no clue what he could possibly want to ask.

  “Are you Wiccan?”

  My eyebrows shot right up. “No, afraid not.” Wait, did he only hire Wiccans? Because if that were the case, I could definitely fake an interest.

  “So, you don’t ever dabble in magic?” he went on.

  The way he said “magic” gave me pause. He said it like it was a real thing. As real as horticulture or artisan bread baking. I shook my head.

  “Do any of your friends practice? Perhaps a roommate or a family member?”

  “Not as far as I know. I don’t have a roommate. The only family I’ve got is my dad, and he’s definitely not the magic and witchcraft type.”

  He inhaled a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “May I be frank?”

  I nodded, feeling puzzled. Then again, you did run into all sorts in places like this.

  “Well, it’s just that there’s a heavy magical aura all around you, my dear. It’s almost as if someone cast a spell on you, a strong one, that has been permanent for a very long time.”

  A spell? I had to try hard not to laugh. I was seriously attracting all the crazies lately. This guy was clearly a loon, and I was about to tell him I’d changed my mind about the job when he went on, “Could you wait here a moment? I’d like to get a second opinion on this.”

  “Sure, why not,” I replied, bemused. He rushed off to the back of the shop, walking through a door that must have led to a storage room. A minute later, he returned with a youngish, good-looking guy with dark hair and green eyes.

  “This is Gabriel,” Marcel introduced. “He works here and is a highly skilled, um, Wiccan.”

  Highly skilled Wiccan, eh? I wondered sarcastically what that entailed. Why was I even humouring this? Gabriel had a silver earring in the top of his right ear. He wore black jeans, steel toe cap boots, and a loose grey shirt.

  “Gabriel, this is Tegan,” Marcel gestured towards me.

  Gabriel gave me a shy nod, only meeting my gaze briefly while Marcel continued talking, “I’d like you to use your expertise to determine what exactly it is that surrounds her. I can sense it’s magic of some sort, but she claims she doesn’t practice, nor does she know anybody who does.”

  Seriously, I didn’t know whether I should start believing this crap or get freaked out and leave. I was being way too indulgent with Marcel. He seriously seemed like a whack job.

  Gabriel took a moment to study me, his eyes tracing the lines of my shoulders and arms and the top of my head. “It’s a spell,” he confirmed. “It was cast a long time ago by my estimation. It’s strong, perhaps even intended to last a lifetime.” Then he stepped up close to me and asked, “May I?” holding out his hand.

  “Knock yourself out,” I replied, allowing him to take my hand into his. He closed his eyes, and a zip of electricity went from his palm into mine. I yelped and backed away. “Did you feel that?”

&
nbsp; Gabriel nodded. “Sorry, I forgot to warn you. It’s just my magic recognising yours. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I don’t have any magic.”

  Marcel barked a laugh. “The aura surrounding you begs to differ.”

  “It’s a lot to take in at first, I know,” Gabriel said, and something about his kind, solid voice reassured me. “But you do have magic, or at least, someone gave it to you in the form of a spell. My instincts tell me it was your mother, but it could have been your grandmother, or maybe even an aunt. I can’t determine what exactly it was intended to do, but I do know that its purpose is a combination of concealment and protection.”

  Suddenly, I felt a chill. “My mother died when I was three. I don’t have any aunts, and both my grandmothers died before I was born.”

  “Well doesn’t that render this all the more mysterious,” Marcel interjected, sounding entirely too intrigued. “I do love a good mystery.” He smiled at Gabriel in silent communication. I thought I saw Gabriel shake his head at Marcel ever so slightly, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Marcel turned his attention back to me. “Would you allow us to try and discover what this spell is? I’m sure you’d like to know, and I’d be grateful for the practice. I’m not half as experienced as Gabriel in this field, so it would be a first for me to unravel an old spell.”

  I would have thought Gabriel was the less experienced one judging from Marcel’s seniority in age. They probably thought I was just dying to find out about this spell. But in truth, the only reason I stuck around was for the job I came to interview for. Speaking of which, maybe I could use Marcel’s sudden interest in me to my benefit.

  “That depends.” I replied. “Are you going to hire me for the store assistant position?”

  Marcel’s lips curved like he grudgingly respected my brazenness. “Well, I’d still have to conduct an interview and do a background check, but I don’t see why not. Can you start tomorrow?”

  “I can,” I answered, smiling. Marcel grinned back at me, but Gabriel looked a little concerned. I decided not to question it. Getting this job was a stroke of luck, and it meant I could afford to keep my apartment. As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win. I didn’t believe in magic, so it couldn’t hurt to play along with the whole spell unravelling business.