"Thank you for calling Sterling Card Travel Services, my name is Selene -,"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm Margo Dunn and I need some help now!" The voice on the phone interrupts.
I click her name that comes through automatically with her call and she appears verified. "Thank you for verifying your account, Margo, how can I help you today?"
"Your hotel is awful!" She snaps. "I expect so much more from Sterling I can't even?"
I ignore her as she blathers on about how she's not getting what she wants, while I pull up the only travel booking under her profile. She goes on for about five minutes when I decide to try a spell I saw online. Making use of spells shared online is not a regular practice of mine, but, since this particular Karen is acting like a bit of an energy vampire, I decide to try the spell.
Muting myself, I say, "I know what you are and I see what you're doing, and I'm not giving you any of my energy."
It's a simple spell that reminds me not to give more energy than necessary, and I like to think on some level, it prevents them from taking any energy from me. I unmute myself and continue to wait until Margo is finished with her rant.
"Well?" She demands.
"Well, it sounds like you're really unhappy with the hotel you're staying at. I do see that it's a prepaid - if you would like, I can try and get a refund for you so you could check in at another hotel today, would that work?"
"I'm on the phone!" She yells at someone outside of our conversation. "Yes! Jeez these people are so -,"
"Please hold for one moment while I reach out to them," I interrupt.
I place the call on hold and reach out to the manager of the hotel, as the hold music plays, I doodle in the spiral notebook on my lap - something I do to keep my hands busy. Then, I notice that I've accidentally written a rune I hadn't been thinking about.
I've managed to draw a rune called Haglaz. Just as I've noticed this, the manager's voice comes over the phone, "This is Lea with the Cozy Garden Suite, how can I help you?"
"Hey, I'm Selene I'm with Sterling Card Travel Services, and, Margo's on the other line -,"
"We have been doing everything to try to accommodate her." Lea interrupts. "I'm ready to kick her out for how she's speaking to my team."
"I don't blame you," I admit, "I'm reaching out because she's looking for another hotel anyway, we're the third party so we can manually refund, we just need the okay from you guys."
"You have my blessing, full refund, as long as you get her the heck out of my establishment."
"Done and done, Lea - thank you, and may the rest of your customers today be awesome."
Lea laughs, "You too."
I get back on the phone with Margo, "So, good news, we can go ahead and refund."
"Well what I really want is the suite at the Cozy Garden Suites."
I'm a little dumbfounded, "I'm sorry, that's not an option - I can look for a suite somewhere else, but we just cancelled and refunded your stay because that's what you wanted."
"I want to speak to your manager!"
"I?"
"Now!"
"Please hold."
I message my manager, and I know what the response will be. He hates dealing directly with customers and will do everything in his power to avoid it. Even though it's literally part of his job.
Sure enough, the response comes in: "You need to de-escalate the situation."
I roll my eyes and lose my temper a little. I shouldn't, but I get very frustrated with this conversation, especially since it happens almost daily.
Grabbing a marker from my desk I write my manager's full name on the bottom of my shoe - Daniel Evan Baker. I then stand and put my full weight on his name as I write back. "I have attempted to de-escalate the situation and have done precisely as the customer has asked. Now, she insists on speaking with a manger. Please let me know when you are ready for the transfer."
It is a long moment, then finally, "Transfer now."
I transfer her and go on my lunch, sighing as I walk away from my desk and notice a tiny black long haired dachshund outside on my patio, pawing at the patio door, with something in his mouth.
Hastily, I walk to the door, and open it. The little dog prances inside as if he owns the place.
"Hello, sir," I greet, a little taken aback by the boldness of this tiny dog.
He turns to look at me and drops what he's been holding - a silver hatpin, thick enough to be an effective self-defense weapon, with a black tourmaline at the opposite end. I shut the door and he barks and wags his tail at me. I pick him up, but there's no collar.
I frown and shake my head, "You're well brushed, lil man, your mom is probably ugly crying over you running away. I would be."
Glancing at the clock, I note that I have about twenty five minutes left on my lunch. Just enough time to go to the vet to see if they could scan him for a chip.
As he snuggles into my arms and licks my face, part of me hopes he doesn't, so I can adopt him, even though it'd up my rent pretty substantially.
The little dog licks my face, as if he can sense my thoughts.
"All right, let's see if we can find your mom." I assure him, grabbing my keys and heading out the door."
-
"He's not registered," Says Dr. Morris, giving the dachshund an ear scratch. "I've never seen a runaway dog with hair that's been so well taken care of, though."
"I know, he's so cute," I coo.
"No microchip. If you want him?"
"I do." I hastily say.
"What do we call you?" She asks, as if the dachshund will answer.
I thought of the fact that he'd brought me something when he arrived. "Hermes."
"All right, Hermes it is." Dr. Morris smiles.
-
It had been a hustle, and I'd paid extra for the convenience, but I'd managed to buy the basics for Hermes - food, treats, collar, harness, leash - and still get home with thirty seconds to clock in to my shift after lunch. As I answer calls, Hermes spends the first hour having the zoomies and barking excitedly. I laugh it off with my callers, and the few who might have a problem I decide can have the day they deserve.
When I'm finally done for the evening, I look at the hat pin again and stick it into my messy bun. Hermes seems pretty chill, now that he's worn himself out, and it's too late to hit a supply store for any toys.
"We'll get you fully outfitted tomorrow," I promise, texting my boss that I'm sick and I won't be in tomorrow.
I heat up a bowl of ramen for dinner and sit on the floor in front of my couch next to where Hermes is eating his dog food. My cupboards are barren at the moment, since I'm saving every penny to open my dream witchy shop - selling candles, incense, crystals, and books. Maybe even selling spells to people and doing tarot readings.
That would have to wait, though. I didn't quite have enough saved, and I wanted to avoid going into debt if possible.
Hermes seems content as he eats his food and I eat my ramen. I put on a rerun of Supernatural, and then remember drawing the rune earlier.
Hagalaz; it's a run that means "hailstorm", something that could mean destruction. Once I'm done with my dinner, I put the dish in the washer and grab my most trusted tarot deck and begin to shuffle the cards, focusing on what drawing that Hagalaz could mean as I shuffle the cards.
I feel very strongly that this is a time to draw only one card.
I split the deck in half and pull the card at the center.
The Tower XVI.
I sigh. The Tower is always a sign that something big is going to happen - it's the destruction of things, sometimes things we need destroyed, even if we don't want them to be.
Hermes whines at me, as if he can tell I'm a little stressed. I rub his ears, "It's okay, lil man, I'm sure this is going to be okay."
-
Once I've washed my face and changed into pajamas, I set up my camera and sound system connected to my laptop and my phone. I had signed up for a sleep study, and the data will go to a cloud - both visual and audio, then to a clinic database. My phone connected to fitness watch and app will assess and send the other vitals necessary.
Hermes whines and tries to jump futily into my bed, then he looks at me and barks expectantly.
I laugh and pick the little pup up and set him on the bed. As if he owns the place, Hermes proceeds to paw and grumble at the covers before settling dead center in the bed.
I manage to snuggle in around him and go to sleep shortly after next to my new little friend.
-
I'm in what my brain depicts as San Francisco in my dream - sunny, warm, and full of steep hills like in nineties sitcoms and movies. The sun is bright, and for once, I'm fully lucid.
As I decide where I want to go, I notice a man in a hat and trench coat, as if he's shielding himself from the sun as much as he can, walking parallel with me. Anxiety begins to fill me.
"This is my dream," I inform the intruder, "You don't get to scare me."
Suddenly, the trench-coat-clad man has me shoved against the brick side of a building, the claws of his hands sinking into me.
But the pain is real.
The pain is real.
WHY IS THE PAIN REAL?!
"Mother Hecate," I pray in the dream, "please -,"
"Aaaargh!"
My eyes snap open as pain erupts at my neck. I can't breathe well enough; a man is on top of me, and a giant black wolf hound wearing Hermes's collar is attacking him, trying to get him off me.
Then the man's strange inhuman face catches the light of the streetlight outside. His face is skeletal, with skin seeming to hang in some places and too tight in others. He may have been human at one time, but that is no longer the case. His large mouth opens too wide, and -
He has fangs.
And claws.
It's then that I realize I'd left the hatpin in my hair when I'd gone to bed. Reaching behind my head, I grasp it and shove it into the monster's heart. It slides in with surprising ease, as if his bones are too brittle to stop the impact. He stops, his eyes red as he sputters black blood from his mouth.
Before he can move, I pull the hatpin out and shove it in again, and again. He tumbles off me and onto the floor while Wolf-Hound-Hermes barks urgently. I get up, dizzy from blood loss, I collapse beside the monster. I crawl, and finallyl, I shove the hatpin through his eye, and he stops moving.
I collapse on the ground and hold my neck with my hands as the wolf hound jumps off the bed and lands as the tiny dachshund I'd adopted. He gives me a whine, and then gives my ankle a lick. His head perks up and he runs out the door and down the hall out of sight. I hear a startling crashing sound, and hope that Hermes is okay, not really processing yet what has just happened.
I'm going to die of blood loss if I don't get medical attention. I grab my phone from my nightstand, but then there is a crash at my front door now, and rather than dial anyone, I shove it deep into my pajama pocket, leaving the sleep tracker running, and I pull my laptop and small camera from the desk and shove them under my bed. Not the best hiding place, but better than nothing.
Suddenly, men in what looks like extremely expensive tactical gear rush into the room carrying the body of the monster out and before I can say anything, a black cloth is thrown over my head.
I fight, but I'm held fast and tight, and then restrained before there is a pinprick and then only blackness.
-
"Do you like the name Selene?" My great grandmother asks me as we sit and drink tea on the back porch of her home. Her garden is in full bloom, and the honey bees are so numerous that they create a calm, consistent hum around us.
"I like Rowan better," I admit. "I read it in a book."0
"I like it for you too. Would you like it if I called you that?"
"Mom says it's not my name. That my name is my name and that's the end of it. That Selene is a pretty girl's name anyway."
"Well, I think Rowan is a pretty name for you." She tells me with a smile. "Now, let us talk about some protections for you."
"Protections?"
"Just a little love and light, dear." She assures me. "Your mother would have my head if she knew I told you. She's abandoned the old ways."
"I'll keep it secret." I promise.
"Garlic and silver work against vampires. Silver and wolfsbane against werewolves. Iron is good against all fae to some degree, though you must take care not to make deals with them if you can. And demons aren't what the church likes to say - they like a little trouble, but you have the power, not them."
"What about nightmares?" I ask softly.
She reaches a very wrinkled hand to mine and squeezes it, "Lavender and mint, my darling girl. And remember, when you are encountered with a potential foe, you let them speak first. Never reveal your hand before they do and never give them your name."
-
I wake up bound to a metal chair across the table from a well-dressed man with an amused expression on his face. We look like we're in an interrogation room of some kind,w ith a plain metal table between us. The man wears an expensive suit, tailored to fit him perfectly. He is polished and attractive looking, and in other circumstances, I might be interested.
I don't say anything; Great Gran never steered me wrong, and I wouldn't disregard her advice now.
It is a long few minutes of us staring at each other, but I can survive in silence. I can let my imagination wander to better things, and I can wait out almost anything.
The door bursts open and a large blonde man followed by a very slight, very pale looking man, enter the room.
The polished man sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"You want to explain why we were not informed of an attack on an Unchanged, Cyrus?" The blonde asks.
"May I ask who alerted you?" The polished man responds a little archly.
"We have our sources." The dark haired man answers sitting at the table to my left.
"We have rules about this, Cyrus," The blonde snaps at the man who I'd been having a silence competition with.
"Yes, well -,"
"It is not within the human's power to decide such things," A woman with beautiful dark skin and deep violet eyes enters, floating down from the light above us and taking form in front of us, changing the entire power dynamic in the room.
Interesting. I think.
The woman carefully walks to the right and sits beside me. Her long hair is in intricate twists and braids down her back, and when she sits, she does so with almost uncanny valley realism; as if she doesn't exist in such structures under normal circumstances.
"You may call me Satine, my dear, what is your name?"
I can't ignore the tension in the room, nor can I ignore the direct question. Gran had always advised me to go by my legal name for purposes that are unpleasant, but to keep the name I am connected to for myself, like a secret.
"Selene." I answer, giving my legal name.
She breathes in and then cocks her head, "That does not quite taste like the entire truth."
"I do not give out my full name, do you?" I ask.
She smiles then.
"I'm Cyrus, this is Scott and Alfred." The polished man interrupts impatiently.
"Selene, have they informed you of why you are here? Why you have been captured?" Satine asks.
"I have not yet been fully informed." I admit carefully.
"I was waiting for her to speak." Cyrus objects.
"You would have waited a long damn time," I inform him archly. That seems to catch his attention, and I notice a small smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Cyrus is the human envoy of the local Vampire Elders," Satine explains. "I am serving as primary delegate for the Fae, as the nearest Fae Sovereign available. They are from the local werewolf pack."
Ah, I think. My money would be on the quieter one as being the Alpha, since the blonde is rather blatant and outspoken.
"And you're here because I was attacked in my bed by a vampire, though I did not invite one in and therefore he violated codes vampires are supposed to abide by?" It's a guess.
Satine, Alfred, and Scott all look at Cyrus in surprise.
"Legally speaking, Elder Dimitry Petrov owned the building Selene resides in, and therefore has the authority to enter at any time. She killed him."
Now, all eyes turn to me.
Great.
Scott takes a deep breath, "She is Unchanged; bitten and not turned. You know what a value she is to werewolves."
"And Fae," Satine interrupts.
"As breeding stock, I do," Cyrus states bluntly, which seems to make the other parties very angry.
"Now wait," Satine objects.
Cyrus opens a manilla folder in front of him, "The Unchanged, especially should they possess witch blood, can carry magical fetuses to term for Fae, without diluting the Fae abilities of the newborn. And werewolves, you all seem to enjoy pretending to hate yourselves in the name of nobility, so, for you all, it means that you can have kids without the werewolf virus, right?"
"And the vampires have been breeding them out for those facts," Alfred growls.
My heart is racing now; I have no interest in being a brood mare for anyone.
"Why have vampires been trying to breed out the Unchanged?" I ask.
"Vampires cannot feed on blood that can't be infected by the virus." Cyrus explains. "They can't affect or enthrall you, so, you have no use to them."
"We would treat you like royalty, you can have any number of partners -," Satine begins.
"We would care for her, make her -," Scott interrupts.
"I can't have kids." I interrupt quickly. "Nor do I want to. And, if you would, Cyrus, I would appreciate it if you would have someone bring the original signed document for my apartment."
Cyrus looks surprised, "And why -?"
"Because you've brought it up as a rationalization for my being attacked."
Again, there is a mere hint of approval in the other human's eyes. He taps the screen of his phone and sends a message. In short order, the door opens, and a manilla envelope is delivered by a human with brown hair in a short bun, and a very smart looking suit, followed by someone who looks nearly inhuman.
Another vampire.
Again, the power dynamics and tension shift in the room. Cyrus vacates his seat and stands behind the grotesque humanoid with fangs overhanging his thin lips. It sits in the vacated chair and snarls at me, in a voice that sounds like many are speaking at once, "You killed our brother."
I crane my neck, "If you mean the vampire in my room tonight, I tried to survive and at no point, did I invite him in."
"We outlawed hatpins a century ago." They growl.
"Not in this state," I point out - though technically that's a bluff, I don't actually know if that's true. "And besides, I would like to go over my rental contract. I assume that you are a shareholder in the Day Break Rental Properties?"
The vampire growls.
"That is correct," Cyrus answers for him.
"Now, can we take a look at page five specifically?" I ask.
The vampire looks to the human companion next to him, who flips the pages.
"Paragraph three states that the landlord may not enter the property without fourty eight hours advance notice, unless there is an emergency as specifically outlined: state evacuation, fire, or flood. None of those occurred at the time of your brothers' entry, correct?"
"That is correct." Cyrus agrees.
"Good, so, we're on the same page that you violated your contract with me."
"You do not dictate the terms -,"
"Indeed," I tap the page in front of him, "You did. Those are your terms. If you want to violate them, then shall we consider all contracts between humans and vampires null and void?"
"Cyrus, a word. Now." The vampire sweeps out of the room.
"You are playing a dangerous game, Selene." Satine points out. "You would do well to form alliances."
Suddenly, the werewolf growls, "The shifters are here."
"As are the demons, which means -,"
A high-pitched noise rings through the room and the glass of the two-way mirror breaks. A very strange creature appears, and it takes me a moment to piece together what it might be. It has six flapping feathered wings, white skin, two unblinking gold eyes on either side of its head, and no visible mouth. Its body is without any sort of gender differentiation, but only seems to be made of muscle beneath skin. Its feet are cloven, and as if this is the last person she wants to see, Satine is the first to greet it.
"Hello Michael." Satine says sourly. "And...oh good, Mephysto, how are the demons these days?"
Mephysto turns out to be a being made of what looks like vomit, reeking of rotten eggs as it steps out of the corner shadow, his eyes red and goop dripping from his vertical mouth splitting through the center of his head, "Why were we not informed of this meeting?"
"You have no benefit of knowing that there is an Unchanged." Scott snaps. "She can do nothing for you."
"Anything which could prove an advantage for one of you means a possible universal imbalance and a mess for the rest of us." The angel Michael points out, as if bored.
The door opens again, and this time, it's a woman with deep tan skin, high cheekbones, and sleek black hair braided down her back. She gives me a nod, "You seem to be taking the supernatural well enough."
"Had stories passed down from my great grandmother," I explain.
She smiles and leans against the backwall.
"Why are you here, Allie?" Scott asked.
"This is our land, at the end of the day, even if you all like to forget that." She answers easily. "We deserve to know what is happening on it."
Scott rolls his eyes.
Cyrus re-enters and sits down in front of me, "The vampires are extremely unhappy. But, they also acknowledge that this was an oversight. They are willing to allow you to leave and continue your life."
"For how long?" I ask.
Allie snickers.
"She is a human and aware of us, we must have a claim -," Alfred insists.
"I claim myself." I interrupt the werewolf alpha. His eyes glow yellow, but I meet them. Stupid? Probably, I know he's a predator.
But I am not prey.
I'll bite back.
"She's a witch," Allie points out.
"So what? Witches are a dime a dozen now because of the internet." Scott points out.
"You have never grown beyond your ridiculous biological imperatives," Michael scolds.
"Then go back to heaven and suck your boss's -,"
"Scott," Alfred scolds, using the moment to break his eye contact with me. "Selene, we can offer you protection. Safety."
"I will protect myself." I answer. "I will not be a broodmare. Is a birthing capable person even present here to represent your pack?"
"Birthing person?" Scott starts, "We're men."
"There are men who can give birth, and women who cannot." I remind them.
"Good luck getting the wolves to enter into this century," Allie laughs.
"What is wrong with being men?" Snaps Scott.
"What makes you think I'm attacking your masculinity? Is it that I'm a woman and I'm maybe not interested in your brand of masculinity and that then makes you feel attacked?" I ask pointedly.
"You don't want our help? Fine." Alfred growls as he stands, ready to leave.
"There is a waiting room prepared for you, Alpha." Cyrus says, "Now that each party is aware of this Unchanged, we must come to a signed agreement per the cease fire of nineteen eleven."
Alfred growls and leaves the room with Scott in tow.
Cyrus looks like he is trying to choke back laughter, Satine looks amused. She turns to me, "You are an interesting human indeed, Selene. I look forward to our future interactions. I trust there is refreshment in this waiting room?"
"Furnished with the best." Cyrus assures her.
Satine bows her head and then stands and leaves the room.
Michael stares, "You are going to be a problem, aren't you?"
I shrug, "Probably."
"Send the agreement in the usual manner, Cyrus, and we will agree. We have little stock in this, only the need to know what happens next." Then Michael disappears.
Mephysto then begins to laugh - at least, I'm fairly certain that's what the sound is - "I will visit you soon, Selene. There is much to discuss. Great fun to be had. We wish to be part of the agreements as well."
"Very well, Mephysto. There is a room for you and yours as well."
Allie, however, doesn't move.
"Nothing to add?" Cyrus asks.
"That is something you should thank me for." Allie's eyes turn black.
Cyrus bows his head, "No disrespect intended, I apologize, Web Weaver."
"I shall take your apology into consideration with your next payment, yes?"
"Yes." Cyrus agrees.
"And to you, Trouble Gatherer, I wish luck." Allie says. And then, she is simply gone.
Cyrus seems a little relieved at that as he lays out papers before me, "Now, here is the prospected agreement: Vampires shall not attack you directly and you shall not attack them directly."
"And, what about indirectly?"
Cyrus smiles, "Paragraph three. It's how I calmed the others."
Should vampires send any attacks, directly or indirectly, the truth shall be revealed to the nearest of the parties of the Old Magic and New, and whomsoever is nearest may enact vengeance upon the vampires directly with only minor reprisal.
"What if the other parties are incentivized by this to allow such an attack so that they may seek such vengeance? Couldn't there be an agreement between the other parties and the vampires to attack me?"
"Paragraph Four: We the undersigned delegates of the Old Magic and New agree to not harm the Unchanged Selene Rowan Anderson in the interest of mutual cooperation."
"And in exchange?"
"We may call upon Selene for favors when the need arises." Cyrus reads.
"No."
"No? It's a good deal."
"Try again. I am me. I belong to me, and I am willing to do proper deals with each party, but, only deals - no favors. No gifts. Any gifts must be given without expectation of return."
"Any curses could go the same way," Cyrus points out.
"Indeed." I agree by way of warning. "I'm love and light most of the time, but I won't hesitate to lay a metaphysical smackdown on anyone's candy-ass if I deem it necessary."
Cyrus's dark eyes meet mine, "You are at a severe disadvantage because you choose no alliances."
"I choose not to have children for anyone."
"Same thing."
"Is it? So, is that what you do for the vampires?"
"Thankfully no, they do not require any reproductive material from me." He answers, "Our relationship is complicated and involves a great deal of compensation on both sides. Rest assured, I am paid well for being their Day Man." Cyrus answers. "A job I very much doubt you would enjoy."
I consider, "I am a witch. Let me be that. The local witch. When any of them cross the threshold into my shop, I will sell spells and wares, and should they want to buy, they can. Should they want to barter instead, we will barter, but I am not pressured to agree, and they do not receive special grace because they could kill me."
"Why would they agree to such terms?"
I take my phone out of my pocket. "Because I have a sleep app that's been recording the whole time. It's one of many, many tools that we as humans could unintentionally use to prove the existence of each of these beings. It's a matter of time, really. Wouldn't assimilation be made easier with a sanctuary of sorts? A?crossroads for deals with humans, spells, all of that?"
"You want to be caretaker of such a crossroads?"
"As long as I can enforce the aforementioned terms." I specify.
Cyrus is clearly fighting a smile, "It's an interesting idea. I could take your phone."
"You could." I agree, "But the data is already uploaded to the cloud, and into my health chart, which goes to my doctor for a sleep study I'm part of. I can stop it, or, I can be dead. What do you think? A mass killing at a local clinic would be a far reaching impact and cast a greater eye of investigation on their practices here."
"I think we are very close to a deal here." Cyrus considers, "Will you do your work in the apartment complex?"
"No. I'm moving out, that's non-negotiable. Releasing me from my contract now will not, of course, nullify its violation last night."
"Of course."
"Where I live, I allow none who are part of the supernatural community, unless they are specifically invited."
"That is part of the agreement between the undead and the living." Cyrus agrees. "And, due to the egregious violation of said agreement, the death of the vampire elder Dimitry is considered fair compensation, and the vampires are bound by that exchange and may not retaliate."
"I agree to that fact." I state carefully.
"You shall not align with any one party, if you wish to be fully independent from the vampires." Cyrus warns.
"I align with humans," I point out.
"You align with humans both mundane and magical, yes?"
"Yes."
"But equally, you are choosing to forgo an alliance with the Alpha of the werewolf packs in the United States, an alliance with the Fairy Queen, Goblin King, or Supernatural Sovereign representing the Delegation of Fae, The Monarch of Hell and demons, the shifters, and the angels."
"Agreed, though I am allowed to make deals as I see fit, when they are mutually beneficial to me and to the beings."
"Fair." Cyrus agrees.
"Any attack on my loved ones will be seen as an antagonistic action and I will enact justice as I see fit." I warn.
Cyrus cocks his eyebrow, "That's pushing it, isn't it?"
"That I have loved ones, or that I will enact justice? I promise you, neither is."
"They could kill you."
"And then no one will stop the data from going to my sleep specialist." I remind him.
To my surprise, Cyrus chuckles.
"What I offer is a place for each of them to do business safely with a human emissary without fear of judgement or attack. The understanding is that I have full autonomy, and that I am seen as an equal, not a lesser." I state. "Simple."
Cyrus stares at me for a long moment. "Wait here."
"And there I was going to go, disappearing like Endora from Bewitched." I answer sarcastically.
"I'm surprised you're old enough to know that show."
"I'm old enough to know Nick at Night, thank you very much."
Cyrus gives me a genuine grin, then leaves and I close my eyes and send a prayer to Hecate. I work with several gods, but Hecate is the one I turn to the most, and in that moment, I know this situation, the vampire attempting to kill me, me being here, is what the The Tower tarot card had been trying to warn me about - a perfectly reasonable time to pray to anything one might believe in.
When Cyrus reappears through the door he shows me the contract. I peer over it, and I see signatures in both English and other languages.
"Each of the delegates has signed." Cyrus states, putting two copies on the table, each signed. "Sign each and we keep one, you keep the other."
Taking my time, I double check what has been agreed upon, and I'm happy to see that my terms have been met, so I sign on the dotted line.
Cyrus hands one of them to an underling and then stands and shakes my hand, "Would you like a ride back to your apartment for the evening?" Cyrus asks.
"Yes." I answer, knowing I won't stay there.
I follow Cyrus out of the building and when we get out to the parking lot, I realize we've been in a backroom at a very large church building.
"My car is over here," Cyrus calls, leading me to a shiny black SUV. I get in the passenger's side, and he drives me back to my apartment.
"Pro tip?" Cyrus says quietly.
"What's that?"
"Never thank any of them. Not a damned one." Cyrus murmurs. "Even if they seem like your friend."
"I appreciate that." I tell him.
"Good night, Selene."
"Good night, Cyrus." I get out of the car and walk up the steps to my apartment as sun begins to rise.
Entering my apartment, I waste no time dragging out every suitcase and box I can find, and I fill them. I pack with a focus I've never before had about anything, because I am not sleeping another night in that room.
Lost in my process, I'm startled when I hear something rustle in my room.
Grabbing a nearby broom, I begin to walk toward my bedroom, ready to attack. Relief floods me immediately when I see Hermes sitting on my bed, looking once again like a normal miniature dachshund, his long black hair smooth and shiny in the dim light.
I immediately pick up the pup and hold him close, "Hermes, I don't know what you are, but - ,"
Hermes squirms a little, so I set him on the bed again. He grows into his giant wolf hound form, and then hops off the bed and sits next to my altar to Hecate and lets out a sneeze.
"You?work for Hecate?"
Again, Hermes sneezes and hops back up on the bed and becomes his miniature self again. I pet him, and rake my hair again, realizing my hatpin is still entangled in the messy bun.
I take it out; there is still blood on it, and it's then that I realize I still have vampire blood on me too. And, all over the room.
"Gross," I mutter with a grim expression. "I'm going to clean myself up a bit, take a shower, can you bark if something happens?"
Hermes wags his tail and lays down on the bed.
"I appreciate it, buddy."
I remember the computer still under my bed, and I kneel, reaching beneath my bed to grab it. With a few artful clicks, I save the information from the previous night to my cloud, but disconnect it from the clinic and notify them that I can no longer participate in their paid research program. As much as I'd like the money they're offering, I can't let them see that monsters are real just yet.
I do, however, make sure that my footage is secured.
Quickly as I can, I shower and dress in jeans and an old T-shirt, then wipe the hatpin with a cleaning wipe before I stick it in my bag. My hair is wet still from the shower - once it's dry, I'll put it in my hair again.
"I am in desperate need of all the espresso shots Coffee on the Corner can offer - wanna come with?" I ask Hermes, his leash in hand.
Once leashed, we walk back out to the main room, and sure enough, there is the broken glass from where Hermes had broken out in his wolf-hound form last night. I choose not to look at it; it's a problem for future-Selene at this point.
Hermes easily charms the baristas at Corner Coffee, earning himself a substantial pup cup with whipped cream and doggy treats.
For me, it was a seven shot americano with pumpkin spice syrup since they had it, and no room for cream. Basic? Maybe, but the main components of pumpkin spice are clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg - powerful protection and abundance herbs. Both of which I need if I'm going to continue surviving with the supernatural community knowing about me and me knowing about them.
I walk Hermes at my favorite cemetery - a peaceful place where I often talk to Hecate about my problems. On this day, I just smile at Hermes sniffing, walking, and just being a dog.
Once we're back at my apartment, I text work to let them know I quit, and I don't bother to answer my boss when he calls. I'll send my equipment back later today. My retirement built up for the last five years of working there will have to suffice to get me the shop I'm going to have where I sell my witchy wares.
Well, my retirement and a couple of credit cards. Not what I'd wanted to do, but at this point, I'm done trying to do anything else.
Around noon, I'm nearly done. Other than furniture, I pack what I can into my seventies hatchback and decide that Hermes and I have earned another trip through a drive through. As I pull out of the fastfood place with more calories than are strictly necessary, I notice a "for rent" sign across the street at a strip mall.
"That could work," I mutter.
I call the realtor handling the rental applications, and learn that the rent covers the shop and the apartment above it. I apply with first and last month's rent in the form of cashier's checks and by end of day, I'm fully moved in due to a cancellation at a local moving place.
The shop is empty, but that is temporary, within two weeks, I'll have shelves and tables with stock, a corner table for readings, with a curtain around it, and, hopefully, a bunch of customers to help me pay off my now mounting debt.
It's mine.
It's actually mine.
Hermes at my heel, I cleanse the shop using my own grown blend of garden sage and rosemary, casting out old negative energy and welcoming new abundance. I do the same with my apartment, and I can already feel that there's a spirit there. I get a sense that she's a feminine spirit, but she's not ready to show herself. That's okay, I'll be here when she is.
The process to get a business license and subsequent business accounts is very nearly too easy. But within two weeks, I'm ready to announce the grand opening of my shop: Candles and Cauldrons.
And so far, I have seen neither hide of vampire, nor hair of werewolf.
Let's hope it stays that way.
-
Opening day starts off well with a semi-consistent flow of people, some just looking, but most finding at least one thing to look at, and more than a few cooing at Hermes as he walks around the shop with his favorite squeaky toy in his mouth.
While a teenager looks around my shop, I light some dried bay leaves and let it smoke in the cauldron next to me on the counter. Hermes is laying on a bed I've put behind the counter for him, chewing on a chewy bone quietly.
The bell above the door rings, and I look up to see Cyrus, wearing a crisp suit and dark sunglasses over his eyes.
"Whatever they want, the answer is no."
His eyebrows lift, "Careful, that's a potential violation of our agreement."
I roll my eyes, "What do they want?"
Cyrus sets an envelope thick with papers on my counter and, before I can ask more, he walks out.
Rolling my eyes again, the teen returns, looking at where he'd left. "Who was that? Lawyer?"
"Basically," I grouse absently. I move the envelope, and realize there's a card sized silver plate beneath it.
"What's that?" The teen asks.
I pick it up quickly - if it's cursed, I don't want this girl to have to deal with it. "Just a weird little antique I was going to clean."
"You're a bad liar," The girl points out.
"Trust me when I say you don't want to know. Find everything you need?"
Soon, I'm left alone again, I pull out the papers one at time and read through what I quickly realize is a perspective real estate deal by Day Break Enterprises. A deal that would mean they own the building Candles and Cauldrons now resides in.
They would be my landlords again.
And there is no way they would allow a little thing like failure to notify to prevent them from entering again.
My heart races as I look through the kinds of figures they're talking, especially because they want to expedite the sale.
Even if I could talk a bank into a mortgage with the kind of figures they're talking about, there is no way in Hell I'd be able to pay it back.
It takes a solid thirty seconds for me to close my eyes and calmly pack away the papers. I take out a notepad - the same one I'd been using only a couple weeks before when I'd accidentally drawn Hagalaz - and I start writing my options.
They are all bad.
Belonging to any of the big three - Fae, Vampire, or Werewolf - is out of the question. But shifters and demons seem more?reasonable? Maybe Morgan could ask Hecate for me?
There's a thought I'd never have believed I'd think.
I'm startled out of my thoughts when more customers come in, and I spend the rest of my day advising on various herbs, crystals, and tarot card options for people.
-
By seven o'clock I'm dead on my feet and more than a little disenchanted by what has happened today, so I order a hefty delivery of Chinese food, and, once it arrives, I take it upstairs. Hermes is changed into his wolf-hound guise by the time we reach the top of the stairs; I assume that it is so he can climb the staircase easier, but once we enter my apartment, I'm less certain of that assertion.
Once in my apartment, I can tell my ghost friend is taking more of an interest in me; it's freezing cold, though the heater's on, and the lights keep flickering. Hermes whines as he looks up at me, uncertainly.
"Hey, can you show yourself?" I ask.
Nothing happens.
"Come on, Hermie, let's eat." I set out the food on my coffee table and lift Hermes onto the couch. I turn on a tv show and all seems calm until I take the papers Cyrus had dropped off out of my puse.
That's when all hell breaks loose.
Glass breaks around me, shattering to the floor. Wind whips up, and I hurriedly grab the food and stick it in the oven, safely out of the line of fire. Hermes barks madly, as if trying to reason with the ghost himself.
"ENOUGH!" I yell.
The activity ceases, and I notice that some of the sweet and sour sauce has spilled across the papers Cyrus had left, and, the notepad where I'd written "Fae? Werewolf? Demon? Shifter?"
Slowly, the sticky sauce oozes until letters form across the papers saying:
"DO NOT TRUST THEM"
"I wasn't planning to trust any of them." I assure the ghost. "Look, I?I think I can help you so that you can be a little more corporeal. I'd like to talk to you, okay? Just - give me a second."
Grabbing a white pillar candle, I quickly carve it with my intentions, and dressing it with garlic and angelica herbs, and summoning oil. Then, I set it on my coffee table next to the spill and light it as I pray to Hecate to help this spirit to have the energy to speak with us.
The angry ghost forms, her head is bent to one side, and she's dressed like she lived here in the seventies. Her eyes are black and her mouth open wide in a scream.
"DO NOT TRUST THEM!" She screams before she blows out the candle and I lose power in my house.
I sigh, "Well sh -,"
THE END OF PART 1: THE DEVIL IN THE DETAILS