Fiendish Magic Read online

  “You’re supposed to let me make the drinks. Those customers could be undercover agents from Alcoholic Beverage Control.”

  She was technically right, which just made it that much harder to resist the urge to punch her. Technically, you had to be twenty-one to bartend and at the ripe old age of nineteen, I didn’t quite meet the mark. The crazy thing was that popping a twist cap off a bottle of domestic swill was considered “bartending.”

  Except Jenny didn’t actually give a shit about ABC, she just knew that if I let her serve my drinks, then I had to tip her out on the check at the end of the night. It was slow enough that we didn’t have anyone actually tending the bar.

  She reached for the beers and I instinctively pulled them away. Alcohol meant a higher check total for the table and better chances of a good tip for me. No way was I giving that up without a fight.

  I pushed past her, forcing the girl to either move out of the way or get squashed against the counter. “That one guy has like eight chins and the other one hasn’t shaved in at least a week. They aren’t undercover anything.”

  “Larry!” Jenny yelled, loud enough that it carried over the whole restaurant and a few customers turned their heads to see what was going on.

  Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

  She strode towards the grill window and I hurried after her.

  “What?” I heard Larry’s grumble, but he was over by the fryer so I couldn’t see his face past Jenny’s shoulder.

  “Jacinta is trying to serve beer.”

  That isn’t my name, I wanted to correct her but forced my teeth to clench on any response. Jacinta was the name written on my name tag because that was what had been on the fake ID that I bought after arriving in town.

  The business end of a spatula shot out through the window and came to a stop less than an inch from my nose. “No underage bartending, you’re gonna get me fined by the city. Give the beers to Jenny.”

  “Sucks for you.” Jenny pulled the beers out of my hands with a smirk of satisfaction. I was really regretting not slapping her when I had the chance. She turned on her heel, dirty-blonde ponytail whipping me across the face, and sauntered to my table with a switch in her hips.

  I will not murder my coworkers. I will not murder my coworkers.

  I repeated the mantra in my head a few times as I trudged back towards the counter. It was in moments like this that I had to remind myself that I chose this. Jenny was lucky she’d never run into the old me.

  She served the beers, leaning in so all three men seated at the table got a good look down the V-neck of her shirt. I turned away with a grimace, not feeling the normal heat at a sexual display. Even the monster inside of me had standards.

  My only other table finished and paid, leaving a decent tip and a huge mess to clean up. The sound of Jenny’s high-pitched giggle coming from a few feet away set my teeth on edge.

  When I finished bussing the table, I headed back to my post behind the counter. My arms rested against the cool glass and I stared at the clock, willing the hands to move a little faster. It had been a slow shift, even for a Tuesday night, and all I wanted was to get off work and crawl into bed. The place was practically empty and some of us should have been sent home a long time ago.

  Larry insisted on keeping the restaurant open for twenty-four hours a day. It was painfully obvious to everyone but him that we didn’t have the customer base to support that, even with the teeny tiny outfits.

  Back in the day, Leno’s on 56th served Chicago-style hotdogs before the dish was famous. There was a grimy picture of Al Capone, his butt firmly planted in one of same stools that still lined the bar sat under the glass next to the register. The place hadn’t changed much physically since then, except for a little cracking in the vinyl seats and a layer of grease that never wiped clean coating everything.

  But Larry had a rebranded a few years ago as a “breastaurant”. But we were sandwiched between a dry cleaners and a Korean grocery store in a strip mall, so the draw of girls in tiny clothes wasn’t enough to overcome the crappy location.

  I’d considered applying for a job at a titty bar and just cut out the middleman, but never actually pulled the trigger. All it would take was for one asshole to get handsy and I’d do something violent.

  Waitressing wasn’t an ideal way to make a living, but it had its advantages. I got paid in cash, for one. And more importantly, Big Larry had overlooked the fact that he’d never seen my social security card or birth certificate. After the first few weeks of me “forgetting” them at home, he’d stopped asking. I think we were both content to keep me off of the payroll.

  And it’s hard to get paperwork when you use a fake name.

  Jenny swept past me, her expression haughty. “You have a table.”

  I followed her gaze to a booth in the back corner of the restaurant. I could have sworn it was empty a minute ago, and I didn’t remember seeing anyone come in. A lone man sat with his back to me, dark hair curling in unruly licks around his head.

  “Great,” I said without enthusiasm. I’d really been hoping to cut out of here early. I grabbed a plastic menu from the rack and pulling my notepad out from where I tucked in under my bra strap as I wove between the tables.

  I’d only just come to a stop at the booth when I started my standard spiel: “Welcome to Leno’s on 56th, where the food is hot and the girls are hotter. My name is Jacinta and I’ll be your waitress…”

  The man raised his head, and the words died on my tongue.

  “West.” I glanced behind me to make sure that Jenny was out of earshot. “What the fuck you doing here?”

  “Jacinta, huh?” West eyed my nametag with obvious amusement before he leaned back against the cracked vinyl of the booth, resting his booted feet on the seat opposite him. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. It bobbed up and down when he spoke. His gaze roved slowly over me, taking in the copious amounts of revealed skin. “You don’t seem happy to see me.”

  “You’re not supposed to bother me at work,” I reminded him.

  “Sorry.” His voice was slick as the oil running through the engines he spent all day working on. He gazed pointedly around the nearly empty restaurant. “I hate to keep you, if you’re busy.”

  West shifted his feet. Caked mud that was trapped in the tread of his boots fell on the seat. Eyeing his shoes with distaste, I reminded myself to wipe the booth down after he was gone.

  “You have to order something if you’re taking up a table,” I said, finally. I had little hope of convincing him to leave, but it was worth the effort to try.

  West dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of spare change. He dropped it in front of me, the coins making a dull sound as they struck the table.

  “What can I get for that?”

  I slid the coins across the table one at a time with the tip of my finger, counting them out. “Small coffee, not including tip.”

  “Coffee it is, then.”

  Rolling my eyes, I swept the change into the palm of my hand and then dropped it in my apron. It wasn’t even enough for bus fare. “Great.”

  The coffee pot behind the counter was almost empty with the remaining liquid slowly turning to sludge at the bottom. I poured what was left into a chipped mug, barely filling it three-quarters of the way. West could deal with it. The $1.19 in change jangling around the pocket of my apron wasn’t worth making a whole new pot.

  Jenny sat at the bar, eating salad out of a Tupperware container that she’d brought from home. She raised an eyebrow as I passed her.

  “He ordering food?” She gestured at West.

  I held up the lukewarm cup of coffee. “Just this.”

  “Man, you can’t catch a break tonight.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Sucks.” She speared a cherry tomato with her fork and popped it into her mouth, seeming completely unconcerned with my bad fortune.

  “Maybe he’ll want a beer,” I said sarcastically as I tur
ned away.

  West straightened when I set the coffee mug down in front of him. He motioned to the bench opposite him.

  “Sit.”

  I warily eyed the bench which was now liberally decorated with bits of mud and grass from the bottom of West’s boots. I dragged a chair over from one of the nearby tables and turned it backwards then straddled the seat.

  West took a sip of his coffee and regarded me steadily over the porcelain rim. Every few seconds, his gaze jumped to the door of the diner as if he expected someone to bust through it at any moment.

  A nervous tic.

  I finally had to break the silence.

  “Did you find something?”

  He rubbed his hands vigorously together and pushed them both through his hair. The bell of the door clanged as a new customer walked in. West glanced up and stared for a moment, watching the customer walk all the way across the restaurant before his gaze flicked back to me.

  I didn’t think I’d ever seen him this edgy, which had me worried. West didn’t have any reason to suspect my true identity, but his nervousness was making me feel a little wired too.

  "I've got a guy who knows what we felt."

  My eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. And here I thought that West wasn't worth the flesh he was made of. “And?”

  "We have to go to him."

  "Where?"

  "Rage."

  The way he said the word sent a shiver down my spine. "The nightclub?"

  "Just the one."

  “Wait a minute.” I jumped up and jogged back to the grill to peer through the window. “It’s totally dead out here, Larry. Can I head out a little early?”

  Big Larry stuck his head out and surveyed the nearly empty restaurant. His gaze stopped on West, who was sitting huddled in the corner of his booth. “You got a hot date, or something?”

  “In his dreams,” I said drily. “Can I go now?”

  Larry shook his spatula at me. “Don’t say I never did you any favors.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” I untied my apron and tucked it under the bar. My leather jacket was rolled into a ball on the shelf and I pulled it on before reaching for my backpack.

  Fearful anticipation was already building inside of me at the thought of what we would find. I wanted the relief of knowing that whatever was here hadn't come for me. But even if it was the mistakes of my past finally coming home to roost, then at least the waiting would be over and I could finally face my nightmares head-on, instead of only in my dreams. I’d been running for so long.

  When I got back to the booth, West was slumped against the wall with his eyes closed. He needed to stay awake long enough to get me to Rage. He was welcome to pass out on the side of the road after that for all I cared.

  West groggily responded when I said his name, but he moved slowly. At this rate it’d be dawn before we got out of there.

  “What are you on?” I asked him, suddenly suspicious.

  He smiled groggily, his eyes unfocused and hazy. “I just had a little bit of demon dust as a pick me up.”

  Demon dust. Well, that explained his odd behavior. Demon dust was a potent narcotic and would send you up as high as you wanted to go, but eventually you had to come down. I made a point of avoiding the stuff, but West responded to most situations by getting blitzed, even ones this dangerous.

  I levered him up with one arm wrapped around his shoulders. He could walk once I get him on his feet but he stumbled and had to lean heavily on me.

  “Looks like your boyfriend got started a little early,” Jenny said snidely as we passed her.

  Do you know what I am? The little voice whispered through my mind, reminding me that this girl should consider herself lucky to crawl at my feet.

  Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to ignore her. “Good night, Jenny.”

  She couldn’t hold back one last snide remark. “He’s a little out of your league, don’t you think?” I watched as her lips curved into a mocking smile. It wasn’t enough that she’d taken a chunk of my only decent tip for the night, she had to be nasty about. I was completely fed up with her attitude. That was my only excuse for losing control.

  I just wanted her to shut up. I wanted to snuff out her voice like pinching out a candle flame. Even my tenuous control was supposed to be better than this, but the mysterious presence had me shaken, that was my only excuse for what happened next.

  Jenny choked and hacked, doubling over. Her face slowly turned pink and then red as her lungs were cut off from the precious oxygen that she needed to survive. She gasped for air and clawed at her throat as she suffocated.

  Teach her a lesson that she won’t forget.

  I forced myself to blink and look away. Jenny’s face changed back to a normal color, and she started coughing and gasping as her airway reopened. It took a minute for her to completely recover. When she finally straightened, her eyes were watering and bloodshot.

  She ran to the bar and poured herself a glass of water.

  Forcing myself to ignore her, I helped West stumble towards the door. Once we got outside, he sat down hard on the curb.

  “That was risky,” he said.

  I tried feigning innocence. “What was risky?”

  “That girl back there. You should be careful throwing magic around like that.”

  “I don’t use magic.” At least not intentionally. Not anymore.

  As far as West knew, I was a run-of-the-mill charmer who was passing through town and decided to stay for a little while. It was imperative that he never found out the truth.

  West shrugged like it didn’t really matter to him one way or the other. “Whatever you say.”

  My fingers trembled as I fished a set of keys out of my jacket pocket. “She just got something stuck in her throat.”

  His eyes were bleary when he looked up at me. “I repeat, whatever you say.”

  When I exhaled sharply, my breath formed a misty cloud around my face. “My bike is parked down the street. You need a ride?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned forward and dropped his head between his legs. “Just give me a minute.”

  I squatted down next to him to pull off my work shoes and put on the boots that I had in my backpack. There wasn’t time to go home and change clothes so I was about to hit Rage wearing bright blue booty shorts and a leather jacket.

  The street was deserted and dark, but I’d always felt comfortable in the night. It helped that I knew exactly what was going bump out there.

  “Demon dust, huh?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

  West cut his eyes at me. “Guy gave me a good deal. You want some?”

  “I’m good.” I’d never tried the stuff. Demon dust was apparently an amalgam of dried sulfur and hallucinogenic mushrooms that only grow in one spot in Ireland mixed together then cursed by someone demon-touched. It created a high unlike anything else in the world, but it would drive you slowly mad if you used too much. “You should be careful with that shit.”

  “It’s purely recreational.”

  “I bet.” I wrenched my helmet out of my bag with difficulty because of the tight fit. I nodded at West as I slid it over my head. “You ready?”

  West followed me around the corner to where my bike was parked and climbed on behind me, ambling gait that barely kept up with my much quicker pace. I didn’t have a spare helmet for him, but he didn’t seem bothered about it. He settled in behind me, forced in close enough that the inside of his thighs pressed against me. A little thrill rolled over me and I forced myself to ignore it.

  When I glanced back, he had a lighter in his hand.

  “You light that cigarette and I’m shoving you off while doing 80 miles an hour.”

  “Fine, fine.” He put the lighter back into his pocket with a scowl. “Let’s get moving then.”

  The motorcycle started with a growl and then a purr as it finally sprang to life.

  “Hold on,” I shouted back and then we were flying down the deserted street.

  Cold bi
t at my skin as wind whipped up around us. The cold was like icy fingers running through my hair and stinging my face. Dim streetlights flew past us, so fast that they were practically glowing streaks. West’s arms tightened around my waist as he shouted directions in my ear.

  I couldn’t fight the impression that I was plowing toward danger, instead of running from it like I should.

  Chapter Two

  Jinx

  The most important rule, in a world that didn’t care much about rules, was that magic stayed hidden.

  Which was why, despite the name, Rage looked innocuous from the outside. The building used to be a slaughterhouse back in the days when this part of Chicago was known for more than police corruption and gang violence. The location had been chosen deliberately: a south-side neighborhood where the people had more to worry about than a nightclub that never closed and only catered to a very exclusive clientele.

  Witches, Shifters, Vampires, even the occasional Fae (though you didn’t see them out much) made their way through its doors. Any creature capable of wearing human skin that went bump in the night could be found inside.

  Old steel dominated the skyline against a backdrop of distant skyscrapers and city lights. The slaughterhouse was built in the 1800s and you could still make out the Victorian-styled accents and grand scheme that had now faded with age and disuse.

  I’d always liked that juxtaposition of the old and the new.

  At night, spotlights went up around the outside of Rage to streak across the sky in a drunken dance. The nightclub drew just enough attention to itself that nobody suspected there was anything to hide.

  I'd ridden by it several times, but I’d never been brave enough to go inside. There wasn’t much point in hiding from the magical world if I showed up at one of its most notorious spots to party. My foot would come off the gas as I eyed the velvet-roped crowd with a hunger that I scarcely recognized. But I always had enough strength to keep driving and not stop until the temptation was far behind me.

  Until now.

  The sad truth of it was that I missed being around people like me. That was why I put up with West and why I slowed past the line of ignorant humans hanging out with no hopes of ever stepping foot inside. I’d let myself have just a little taste before I disappeared again.