Borrowed Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Witch's Bite Series Book 1) Read online

  “You know I don’t do anything else.”

  She nods proudly. “You coming upstairs for some pie?”

  “Not today,” I say standing up straight and smoothing down my shirt. “Apparently I need to go visit Gerard.”

  “Alright, well you don’t be a stranger. I better see you again in a few days.”

  “I promise I’ll come by,” I say, pecking her on the cheek and heading towards the door.

  “If you don’t I’ll send Johnny to grab you. Don’t think I won’t!”

  “Wouldn’t doubt it for a second!” I say as I slip back out into the heat.

  I climb into my car and let out a sigh. I’m ecstatic about the business opportunity, but medicinal brews mean specialty ingredients. And specialty ingredients mean Gerard. And Gerard is creepy. There’s no use putting it off though.

  A quick five minute drive brings me to Gerard’s warehouse. It’s the polar opposite of Maybelle's place. His office is in a rickety metal storefront with one window that is boarded up with weathered plywood. The door is always locked, and the sign on the door always reads closed. I’ve never been sure how he makes a living since I’ve never seen another person here.

  I take a deep breath and rap out three loud knocks on the thick metal door, wait three seconds, then one more. I step back from the door and settle in for a wait. He always makes me wait at least five minutes, which is why I jump when the door immediately swings inward.

  Gerard is in the doorway, eyes wide and bloodshot. His white t-shirt is stained, and he is sweatier than usual.

  “Get inside,” he whispers hoarsely, scuttling backward out of the sunlight.

  I leap inside to get in before he pulls the door shut on me. It’s almost pitch black so I pull out my phone and use the light from the screen to follow him back to his makeshift office, stepping around moldy pallets and trash. There’s also a dead rat, but that’s better than the live one that ran across my foot the last time I was here. Gerard is practically jogging, and he keeps scratching at his arms.

  “Everything okay Gerard?” I ask as I jog to catch up.

  He stops and whips around. “Better watch your back, Olivia. There’s trouble in town and none of the powers that be are going to do a thing about it. They don’t listen to reason.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The bad kind,” he says as he steps into his office.

  Cryptic as always. The man’s impossible to have a coherent conversation with. I put my phone back in my pocket, the ambient glow of eight computer screens is enough to see by. This whole room is a spiderweb of wires across the walls and ceiling. There’s a pile of empty ramen containers in one corner and a big water jug next to a black rolling chair that leans to the left. He tosses me a notepad and then a pen which I barely manage to catch.

  I write down my order, mentally running through the ingredients for the new brews I’ll need to make. Some of them I haven’t made in years, but the recipes are ingrained in me. A few minutes pass, then I hand the notepad back, three pages filled out front and back. He flips through it eagerly.

  “These are new,” he says squinting at me. “Who do you think you’re gonna get to buy healing brews from a girl with a felony on her record?”

  “Can you get it all for me or not? I think I’ll need to be brewing within a month,” I ask, trying not to bristle at his question. There’s no way I could do this without Maybelle, but I don’t need Gerard of all people reminding me of past mistakes. He’s always known things about me he shouldn’t.

  He squints at me for a moment longer, then nods.

  I take that as my cue to leave and start picking my way back through the warehouse.

  Right before I reach the door he yells across the empty space. “Try not to die!”

  I open the door and step back into the sunlight, blinking. I have goosebumps despite the heat.

  Rudie’s is the best bar in town, and also boasts the best hamburger and curly fries in three counties, possibly even the nation. They open at eleven am, except on Sundays when they don’t open until two pm and have a dedicated lunch crowd. Every time I’ve had the money to spare I end up here for lunch.

  My stomach growls as I walk inside and the delicious aroma of fried food hits me. It’s glorious. Chevy is behind the bar handing over a beer to Fred, one of the regulars. Chevy waves at me before moving down the bar to take the next order. Susan waves too, pointing at a free table in the corner. I nod and take a seat with my back to the wall. It takes a minute before she can make it over to me, stopping at a few tables to take a request for more water or sweet tea.

  “Hey darling, the usual?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say with a grin. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve been in for a burger and I’ve been craving them.

  “You got it,” she says before bustling away.

  The door to my right tinkles and I glance up, a smile springing to my face when I see Tyler walk in. The smile turns brittle when I see Joanna, the blonde bimbo town slut, hanging off his side. She isn’t interested unless the guy has a girlfriend or a wife. I’ve never been sure if it’s daddy issues or if she’s just mean. He’s got his hand on her ass.

  He doesn’t see me until he gets a good five steps in. My face is going blank like it does when I get mad. He stops in his tracks and Joanna trips over his feet. She finally catches on to where he is looking and rolls her eyes.

  “Come oooon Tyler. Let’s get lunch.”

  “Just give me a second to talk to Liv, alright?”

  Joanna sticks her bottom lip out like a five-year-old and blinks her eyes up at him. “But I’m hungry baby. You wore me out this morning.”

  So that’s why he hadn’t responded to my texts since yesterday afternoon.

  “I’ll be just a minute,” he says as he finally gets his arm out of her grip.

  She huffs and shoves him. “Fine, go talk to that stupid bitch, but I’m not hanging around waiting for you to talk to some other girl.”

  She throws a glare my direction and stomps out.

  I lean back in my chair as Tyler approaches, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

  “Hey Liv,” he says, looking at me with a half smile.

  I stare him down, a hundred useless things running through my mind, like the last time I saw that smile and how his hands felt on my ass.

  “Look, we hadn’t talked about being exclusive or anything.”

  I don’t say anything, there’s no point. We hadn’t ‘defined the relationship’ or whatever, but he’d started talking about taking me to meet his family in a few weeks because they were having a barbecue. It had felt like we were dating. Then again, any guy I chose was almost guaranteed to be an asshole. It was a family curse.

  “I must have thought it was implied when you told me no one else had ever made you feel this way and you didn’t even want to look at another girl.”

  “Come on Liv, we were in the middle of, you know,” he says, waggling his eyebrows and glancing around like he’s embarrassed to say the word sex in public. “That doesn’t count for anything.”

  “Tyler,” I say carefully, leaning forward onto my elbows. “Fuck off and let me enjoy my burger.”

  Susan walks up with perfect timing and sets my burger down with way more force than necessary, bouncing a couple of curly fries off onto the table. I rescue them and shove them all in my mouth at once.

  “See ya some other day Tyler,” Susan says with her arms crossed and a thicker accent than normal.

  “Whatever,” he says before storming out of the door he came in.

  “I’m gonna bring you a milkshake sweetie.”

  “No, that’s okay Susan, I’ll just—”

  “No objections allowed. It’s on the house, Chevy will insist on it.”

  She walks away before I can object again, not that I really want to argue. Their milkshakes are great and I could use some chocolate.

  I take a bite of my burger but it doesn’t taste quite as good
as it usually does when I’m not trying not to cry in public.

  2

  Mr. Muffins is staring at me from the hallway when I slam the front door behind me.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter as I stalk into the kitchen. The tequila is in the same cupboard as my glasses. I grab the bottle and take a swig before dropping heavily into a chair at the little two person table crammed into the space between the kitchen and the living room. I had texted Patrick before I left Rudie’s and he still hasn’t responded yet. He wasn’t a Tyler fan, so I’m sure he’ll be excited.

  My laptop dings with a new email. It’s the deposit from the vampires for the healing I did this morning. I take another drink of tequila and open my account to check the balance. One thousand twenty two dollars and sixty five cents. It’s the most money I’ve had in the bank at one time, by legal means at least, but if I can supply the apothecary for Maybelle, this’ll be nothing. I’ll have thousands.

  I grin as I take another drink. Fuck Tyler. This is a celebration.

  My resolve lasts for about thirty minutes. My phone rings, a sickeningly romantic country song blaring out of the tinny speakers, Tyler’s number flashing on the screen. I reject the call and take a drink, sliding my phone away from me across the table.

  I move to the living room and turn on the tv scrolling through the static and news channels trying to find something decent but all that’s on is romantic comedies and telenovelas.

  My phone rings again and I stand up on the couch, taking another, longer, drink from the bottle.

  “Muffins! I just thought of a new game! Every time he calls, I drink. You think I’ll survive the night?”

  Muffins meows and twitches her tail disapprovingly.

  Two hours later I’m face down on the bathroom floor since it’s the coolest place in the house and the room is spinning even though I’m lying still.

  “Men are stupid, Muffins,” I roll over to find she is facing the door licking her stomach. “Oh my god are you even listening to me? You know what, you’re stupid too.”

  Muffins stops licking and swishes her tail.

  “You heard me,” I mutter before sitting up to take another swig from the bottle. My stomach rolls and I grimace as I grab the edge of the toilet.

  “I think I drank too much,” I moan. “Fucking Tyler and his fucking phone calls.”

  Muffins crawls into my lap, her claws pricking through my jeans.

  “Ow ow ow!”

  She rubs her face against my chin as the tears start. I hug her close and just feel sorry for myself.

  “This why I keep you around you know,” I whisper into her fur.

  I blink one eye open, then hear the banging again. I try to sit up quickly, my first thought is that someone is trying to break in, but my head objects strongly to quick movements and I end up on hands and knees. I’m still in the bathroom and my mouth tastes like something crawled inside it and died.

  “Police, open up! We know you’re in there!”

  What the fuck. I get my feet underneath me and find my phone. It’s almost two pm. I don’t have any messages from the vampires, so no one died on my porch last night. I rub my eyes then lean over and take a quick drink from the tap so I can talk a little easier.

  I look like shit. My hair is falling out of the ponytail I had it in and my eyeliner is smudged down my cheek. Whatever.

  They bang on my front door again.

  “Alright! I’m coming! I’m coming!” I yell, despite my headache.

  I jerk the door open and I’m immediately blinded by the late afternoon sun. I keep all the blinds down in the house so it’s always nice and dark.

  There are two men and one of them flashes me a badge that looks official.

  “Whatever, just come inside, it’s too damn bright out here,” I say opening the door wider and retreating back towards the living room.

  The men walk inside. The one that showed me his badge is tall, most likely ripped underneath his clothes, and has a military haircut. He looks me over and raises a thick brow. The other guy I’ve seen around town before. He’s a little shorter, more wiry and has almost white blonde hair.

  “Olivia Carter?”

  “The one and only,” I say sitting down on the couch. “What do you need?”

  “I’m Detective Jason Martinez and this is Detective Alexander Novak,” the taller one says. “Do you know Jessica Johnson?”

  “Um,” I say, going through people I’ve met recently in my head. “No, that name doesn’t sound familiar at all.”

  “Do you recognize this woman?” Novak asks, stepping across the living room to shove a picture in my face. There’s a young woman with blonde hair and a freshly healed bite on her neck spread out naked on the grass. Her skin is paper white, she’s been drained.

  I sigh, of course I recognize her.

  “Yeah, I recognize her. Just didn’t know her name. Early yesterday morning, around four-thirty, she got dropped off. I healed her and sent her away.”

  Martinez grabs the two chairs from the table and sets them in the living room across from me. He and Novak sit down.

  “Did you see her after that?” Martinez asks sitting down in the chair on the left.

  “Nope.”

  “Are you sure she was alive when she left your house?” Novak asks.

  So it’s going to be like that. I lean back and cross my arms. “She was definitely alive when she was dropped off on my doorstep, and she was definitely alive when she walked out the door.”

  “Take us through what happened from the beginning,” Martinez says, pulling out a notepad. Novak has his hands on his knees, one finger tapping restlessly.

  “I got a text, just said ‘dropping off’. I threw on some clothes, got a few things together, heard them drop her on the front porch. Got out there and fixed her up no problem. Called a car for her and she left.”

  I was already skirting the line of confidentiality, I definitely wasn’t going to tell them she was almost dead. I wasn’t going to tell them I went through the same routine at least twice a month. It had gotten more frequent recently too, but some of the neckers weren’t hurt all that bad. It was more like the vampires were getting used to the idea that they could keep their toys in better shape.

  “You said ‘they’ dropped her off, who was it?” Jason asked.

  “I don’t know, I never see them.”

  “Why don’t you see them? Ask questions about what happened to your patients?” Novak asks, sitting up slightly.

  “No need to, it would be a waste of my time. It’s always an issue of blood loss and that’s something I can fix easily. If it’s beyond my skill level, I’d just call 911 for an ambulance.”

  “And that’s something you’ve had to do,” Martinez pauses, flipping back a page, “three times?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was she going?” Novak asks.

  “I don’t know, and I didn’t ask because it’s none of my business.”

  “How often do the vampires send people to your door for healing?” Martinez asks as he writes something down in his notepad.

  “That’s confidential.”

  Martinez looks up, a frown tugging at his lips.

  “Do you want to be charged for impeding an ongoing investigation?” Novak asks, moving his arm so that his sleeve slips upward just enough to show me the coven symbol tattooed on his wrist.

  The coven was backing the investigation then, which meant there was something bigger going on than one death. I look at the tense line of Novak’s shoulders. Maybe something big enough to spook Gerard.

  It's too early, and I'm too hung over, for these kinds of threats. Covens are always butting into investigations involving paranormals and getting heavy handed when it isn’t necessary. The council lives and breathes public relations, and every coven wants to be on their good side. Humans can fuck up all they want, but if a paranormal is caught being evil, all hell breaks loose.

  “No, but legally you have to ha
ve a warrant before I can divulge confidential client information. I’m not getting sued by the vampires. Just come back with a warrant and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “You were the last person to see her alive, are you sure you don’t want to help us Miss Carter?” Novak asks. He’s getting heavy handed with his threats now.

  “I’ll help you find your way out, how about that?” I say standing and pointing at the front door. “I’m sure you have my phone number somewhere, give me a call when you get a warrant and we can chat all you want.”

  They both stand reluctantly. Novak’s face has gone red from irritation. I briefly wonder how he survives summers in Texas with skin that pale.

  Novak heads out the door immediately, but Martinez takes a moment to set his card down on the table.

  “In case you change your mind.”

  “Sure,” I say moving the card towards the center of the table. I can throw it away after he leaves.

  He opens the door but stops in the doorway, with the sun behind him I can’t see his face.

  “Why do you work for the vampires? Even when they aren’t breaking the law all they do is hurt people. They prey on the weak.”

  “For the money,” I say. It’s a simple answer that isn’t really a lie, it’s not the whole truth, but I can feel the accusation in his question. He doesn’t deserve the truth from me, not when he’s come to my house and accused me of murder.

  He stays in the doorway for another breath, like I might add onto what I just said, then turns and walks out to his partner who is staring daggers at me from their car.

  3

  “You will be at the clanhouse in fifteen minutes or we will find you and drag you there,” Emilio hisses into the phone.

  Emilio is always so dramatic, he buys into the Victorian, goth vampire persona.

  “Oh calm the fuck down, I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  Emilio hangs up without responding. I drop my phone into my lap and sigh. I don't want this to fall apart, but I also don’t want to get murdered by paranoid vampires. My cross is hung around my neck, I rubbed myself down with holy water right before I left, and I have a few nasty potions on hand just in case.