West Coast Witch (14 page)

“She’s an addict.” I said. “Listen, I know a therapist. He can put you in touch with
the right people to get Becca into therapy.”

“It’s not therapy she needs, not yet.” Jackson said. “She’s taken up living with a
couple of Arcanes, dealers. I can’t prove they’re dealers, so I can’t reach out to
the cops. And besides, it would probably start off a minor war.”

“A war, how so?” My lack of knowledge about the seedy side of San Francisco showed.
I wasn’t exactly the underworld connoisseur.

“If a man of Finnegan’s is seen ratting out Bliss dealers, it means whoever controls
the Bliss will see this as a cassus bellis.” Jackson explained. “And war is bad.”

“So, how does this involve me?”

“I want to pull her out, without any political bullshit. And I’d like to ask your
help.”

“Help? With drug dealers?” I thought for a moment.

Amy spoke before I could think of anything to say. “No, absolutely not. We are not
involving ourselves in the affairs of a drug war.”

“I’m not trying to make this political.” Jackson insisted. “I just want to help a
friend. I can’t ask any of my kind because it would be seen as an act of weakness
on Tyler’s part.”

“But Amy and I are outsiders.”

“Why am I being brought into this?” Amy protested. “I want nothing to do with this,
and Eric certainly cannot get himself involved.”

“Why the hell not?” I asked. “She needs help. I want to make sure she gets that help.”
I had a thing about abandonment. Even if I'd had two grandparents growing up, my parents
were both dead before I could walk. It drilled into me early on that I didn'e want
to see people abandoned, helpless.

Jackson nodded. “I’d hoped that you would see it that way. Not as me asking for your
use as a soldier, but as support. I’ll just want you to help you carry Becca out of
there. You won’t have to fight. It gets too hot, I won’t blame you if you bug out.”

I nodded. “No fighting on my part?”

“Eric, you cannot be serious.” Amy protested.

“Damn straight I am.” I looked to her with as serious of a look as I could muster.
“This is what I what to do. I want to help people. And if you want to be my guardian,
you’re coming with me.”

She flat-out glared at me. “I do this under serious protest.” She growled.

“You two are certainly strange.” Jackson said. “So, what’s your deal? Are you his?”

Amy shouted, “I am not his lover!” at the exact same moment I yelled. “She is not
my girlfriend!”

Jackson broke out laughing, holding his stomach in delight. “Oh, you two could take
that on the road. That’s freaking gold.”

“Oh, don’t even start.” I turned my glare to Jackson. “We’ll do this. But I’m not
going to be your thug. I’m just going to be there to help Becca.”

Jackson nodded. “I’m in your debt, both of you.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “I am sure. When do you wish to confront these Bliss dealers?”

“Tomorrow night, call me at five-thirty.” He pulled a card from his jacket, and handed
it to me. “Here, I’ll tell you if we’re on tomorrow for it. Again, thanks. Tyler and
I are going to be deeply in your debt.”

“And just what's a were's debt worth?” I asked.

“A were's debt means that we'd owe you a favor. A big one.” He said. “You're familiar
with the concept of arcane debt?”

I nodded. “Yea, just remember that when Christmas cards roll around.” I mumbled. “We’ll
call tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Jackson said. “And, while I don’t expect you guys to fight, best to prepare
for the worst, all right?”

“Yea, of course.” I replied. “I’ll keep that in mind. We just want to help.”

“You do.” Amy corrected.

“We want to help.” I repeated. “She just doesn’t want it to show.”

Jackson opened the car door. “Yea, well, thanks anyways.” He said. “I’ll hear from
you guys tomorrow, then.”

I wondered what I had gotten myself into, but I forced myself not to regret it until
after work. I was doing the right thing. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get dragged into a
drug war.

I know it’s not my place to complain, but after getting bit by a vampire, finding
out you’re a witch, meeting two of the most powerful people in San Francisco, and
learning how to use magic, working a shift at the bar seems way too boring.

The first thing I did when I went in was ask Terry a simple question. “Is Jenny working
tonight?”

“Yea, she just got in a few minutes ago. Why?”

I stormed towards the back. “Oh, I just need to have words with her.”

The employee lockers at McLellan’s weren’t really lockers. They were more like cubby
holes in a closet. Jenny had been putting her purse in hers when I saw her.

“Jenny, hey, how’s it going?” I asked, barely masking my anger behind a smile. Oh,
I wanted her to know I was pissed.

“Eric?” She looked up to me. “Hey, uh, what’s up?”

“Oh, not a ton. Keeping busy, staying out of trouble, getting bit by your sweetheart.”

She did a double take. “What?”

“Darius, that vamp you’re sweet on, fucking attacked me two nights ago. He left me
these.” I pulled down my collar to show the scars on my neck.

“What? No, Darius wouldn’t. He’s a nice guy.”

“Yea, your nice guy tried to kill me. Where’s he live?”

“What?” Jenny asked.

“Where. Does. Darius. Live.” I snapped. “It’s an easy question, but if your vapid
tequila-fried noggin can’t understand that, I’ll just take your phone and root through
that.”

She stared at me in shock for a moment “Eric. That…what he did to you, that’s not
the Darius I know.”

“Well, then, maybe you don’t know him.” I had to stop myself. This wasn't me. I was
being crazy. Then again, this was a guy who nearly killed me I was hunting. “I…I’m
sorry. I only know what I know. The guy was named Darius. And I have to get to the
bottom of this. He’s running around with something that’s mighty dangerous.”

“Like what?”

“Like, something I can’t tell you about.” I sighed. “Please, for a guy who doesn’t
ask anything from anyone...I need help on this one.”

“I don’t know where he lives. He’s a bit of a vagabond. He’ll call me up, and we’ll
meet somewhere.”

I nodded. “Then call him up, please.”

She opened the closet door, and pulled her cell phone from her bag. “Eric, something’s
changed in you.”

“Yea, must be something I’m eating.” I murmured.

Jenny dialed Darius’s number, but she got his voice mail. She left him a message,
then hung up. “That’s usual for him. He’ll call me back sometime in the next day.”

“Not exactly reliable, is he?”

“No, but he was sweet, and he was always a gentleman.” She shook her head. “There
must be something wrong.”

“I hope this is all a mix up or something. Maybe there's two Dariuses...Darii, in
the City.” I said. “Let’s get back to work. I’m sorry I came at you like that, Jenny.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed. “You’re usually the picture of tranquility. And, I
mean, I know how hard it is for that first bite. I couldn’t imagine what it would
be like if it was forced.”

“Well, yea.” I smiled a little, and found myself blushing. “It’s been a crazy three
days. Thanks for understanding, at least in some part.”

We hugged it out, and we went to work. Like most nights, it just flew by me. I made
drinks, cleaned up a few messes, and helped Terry toss a rowdy drunk out. All in a
night’s work. At about midnight, I ordered up my dinner from the kitchen. Two burgers
and a basket of fries, with a big salad to go with it. The waitresses all laughed
a little, and were maybe a little surprised when I devoured it in the span of my break.
Great, I was a lean, mean eating machine now.

“Well, you certainly eat like a monster.” Matt said as he slipped into the seat across
from me. I always ate at a table on the slower nights, and tonight wasn’t an exception.

“Apparently, because of my new…condition, I’m burning more calories than the average
person. So, I’m really. really hungry.”

“Fantastic, so, how’s your day been?”

“Oh, found our missing gal’s hair, with a note taunting us. Oh, and I met the head
of the Irish mob.”

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“Oh, I would never kid about mobsters,” I shot back. “He’s a werewolf, and so I got
to meet him, and he lied through his teeth about helping us.”

“Jeez, compared to my clients, I’m not sure which is more crazy.”

“I think I’d go with the werewolves.” I said. “But, yea, I promised I’d tell you whatever
you wanted to know. So, what do you want to know?”

“Seriously, who is Amy?”

“Amy is…I don’t know what she really is. She’s…Amy.” I said. “She’s got this thing
she does with her voice. She can cause fear in people, or make suggestions with it.
It’s weird. She can also help healing. And did you notice that she doesn’t use contractions?”

“Yea, what’s up with that?”

“I don’t know, it’s very odd.” I said. “She's old, even for an Arcane.”

“Like, how old are we talking here?”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Okay, so, you’ll keep this between just the
two of us?”

“Of course, man.” Matt nodded.

“I met someone like Amy. His name is Nick. He’s…he runs some sort of government monster-hunting
program in the Federal Marshals. He’s like her, and I don’t know. They might be…something
else.”

“Well, that’s heavy.”

I laughed a little. “Yea, no kidding. I mean, what if they are angels? They certainly
don’t have halos and wings.”

Matt shrugged. “I’m no Arcane scholar. Maybe you should ask someone else,” he said.
“But, uh, Amy…is she single?”

I fought the urge to slug him in the arm. “Seriously? I tell you all this, and you
want to hit on a guardian angel?”

“She’s beautiful, man.” He said. “Like, crazy beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes. “Swear to God, that one-track mind’s going to get you in trouble.”

“I’ll reserve any jokes I might make about it.” Matt said.

“Yea, yea,” I sighed, and popped a fry into my mouth. “Just, give us a few days, to
adjust to the crazy. This is all pretty new to me, last thing I need is you screwing
this all up with your lecherous ways.”

“Lecherous ways?”

“You’re not exactly the most innocent guy. You’re not allowed to play that game.”

“Compared to you, Saint Eric,” he teased.

I sighed, ducking my head. I didn’t think to mention Teresa. The last thing I needed
was Matt shrink-wrapping me over dating a vampire. “Yea, well, I have my reasons.”

“Are you really still screwed up over Rhi?”

“Don’t mention that name, please.”
 
I didn’t want that skeleton to pop out of the closet, not tonight at least. “Matt,
listen, I got to get back to work. I’ll catch you later, all right?”

“Yea, sure thing, man. Just, you know, stay safe.”

“You bet, I’ll see you.”

I brought my knife with me when I took out the trash that night. Thankfully, I didn’t
get mauled, attacked, and no corpses were in our bins. No, it was what was back at
the bar that surprised me tonight. I washed my hands, got back behind the bar, and
walked to the first person I saw who hadn’t been served yet.

“What can I get you?”

“I have to say, Eric,” Teresa had a big grin as she looked up from underneath her
dark lashes. “You just don’t seem the type.”

I was frozen there for a moment. How did Teresa know I worked here? Granted, there
could only be so many bartenders named Eric Carpenter in San Francisco, but seriously?

“Like what type?” I asked her, making myself think fast.

“Well,” She purred. “I figured you maybe for a classy bar. A cop bar, maybe. But a
college bar? It just doesn’t seem to fit.”

“I went where the money was. Terry’s treated me all right.”

“An intelligent fellow like you must waste away in a place like this.”

I offered my most business-like smile. “It’s why I read a book a week. Keeps the noggin
sharp.” Though, to be honest, I was behind on this week’s reading. The new books I
got from Pacific Books were sitting on my coffee table untouched. Note to self, I
was going to take my Saturday morning and read one of those mysteries. If I wasn't
even deeper in crap.

“A book a week?” She leaned over the bar to look me in the eye, letting me catch a
glimpse of her cleavage in the low-cut sweater she was wearing. “Mm, you do you have
the eyes of a reader.”

“So,” I said, trying to draw my mind from Teresa’s body-and my eyes, for that matter.
“What can I get you?”

“Scotch, and good scotch, not what you give to the kiddies, neat.”

I nodded, and brought down some of the top-shelf stuff. Though, to be honest, Terry’s
top-shelf stuff wasn’t fantastic. We just kept it around for when some guy got too
spendy and wanted to blow a wad on what he thought was being classy.

I poured her the drink, and at her insistence, left the bottle. “So, why are you here?”

“Can’t I be interested in you? I said I wanted to ask you out for drinks. Or am I
that forgettable?
 
Quelle dommage.”

“You're hardly forgettable.” I found myself smiling.

“But it took you quite some time to notice who I was.”

“I’m working. My brain goes off to other places when I’m working.”

“Oh, a dreamer?” She chuckled. “That, I can see you as.”

“Realism? Naw. Blame the overload of books I read. Gives a man strange notions.” I
answered. “But, seriously, I’m at work.”

“And when do you get off work?” Her dark eyes caught my gaze, and I felt a little
flutter of lust in me. Oh, hey, libido. It had been a long time since we’d met on
equal terms.

“I leave at one-thirty, after we close the bar. But, honestly, I’ve been working since
five, and I’m a bit worn out.”

“Oh, poor me,” she remarked. “You know, I’d be more than willing to go home with you.
I’m sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves.”

I laughed then, a bit nervous, a bit genuine. “Well, listen, I’m flattered, but my
place, first of all, is freaking dreadful. Also, isn’t one-thirty a little late for
drinks?”