Magic by Any Other Name, page 9
“Ganbatte kudasai, Senji.”
“Lâche pas la patate, Delia.”
The desert city glowed and shone like a star in the darkness. The desert city glowed and shone like a star in the darkness.
17
Georgette
A COOL BREEZE RUFFLED GEORGETTE’S LONG, TIERED SKIRT. Yawning, she brushed her golden curls out of her face, the loose sleeves of her peasant blouse billowing. California weather was delightful! Back in Boston, she would have been bundled up in her winter coat by now. But here it was November, and she was still in sandals.
She dug her phone out of her purse as she walked. Though she had been in San Jose almost a month now, she still struggled to develop a sense of direction. Her phone’s GPS showed she was close to Club Nocturne, but still, she was early. The interview wasn’t until 5:00 p.m., almost half an hour from now. Well, she would make sure she knew exactly where Club Nocturne was and then find a place to wait. That would give her a chance to calm her nerves before meeting with her potential employer.
Initially, she had planned to follow Olive’s advice and not put down roots until she had completely shed her old identity—but circumstances had changed. As she feared, Ishak interrogating the Zamek’s clerk had resulted in her being blacklisted at every brokerage for hundreds of miles around. However, Ishak’s actions had also produced an unexpected result: no one wanted to be caught in possession of the female Bultungin that had caused a crazy young witch to turn her familiar loose on a brokerage. As far as Georgette could tell, Kett & Kadena still had Kalilah—and, at least for now, wasn’t trying to sell her.
Ishak had campaigned for a direct assault on the brokerage office, but Georgette had objected. While open warfare might get them through the door, it wouldn’t help them find Kalilah once they were inside. Kett & Kadena might have a dozen storage facilities, any one of which could be holding Kalilah. In the time it took them to raid an office and steal the inventory records, KK Inc. employees could move Kalilah to a new facility or even kill her to avoid future problems. This second possibility had convinced Ishak to consider other options.
When Mei-Xing suggested using a third party to locate Kalilah, Georgette had remembered something: while looking at the Vegas billboard advertising Zamek’s, she had seen other notices, including one from a nightclub in San Jose seeking a witch’s services. A quick investigation on the kobold net had revealed that Club Nocturne had an odd reputation. Rumor had it that the owner, Ms. Kazimiera, was a weekend spellcaster who hired real witches to hide the evidence of her magical hobby. It was also a well-known secret that illegally-purchased familiars performed at Nocturne, which strongly suggested that Ms. Kazimiera was a regular customer of KK Inc. If Georgette could get a job at the club, she might be able to search Kett & Kadena’s inventory under the guise of doing so for her employer.
Georgette sensed the nightclub half a block before arriving. The entire eight-story building was like a fountain of magic, everflowing and giving off a misty spray that she felt on her skin the closer she got. The spellcraft, though effective at masking what was inside, was sloppy as hell. It was a half-assed patchwork of spells, one magic laid on top of another without properly integrating them. No well-taught witch would work craft like this. No well-taught witch would work here, either, she thought.
At the corner, Georgette found a busy coffee shop and got in line. No caffeine, she sternly warned herself, you’re jittery enough already. The aroma of cinnamon kissed her senses, and she felt her stomach growl. Couldn’t hurt to have a snack. She didn’t want to be thinking about food during the interview.
“Jeez,” she heard a man’s voice mumble behind her, “it’s four thirty already? Where the hell did the afternoon go?”
Amused by his mystified tone, Georgette chuckled.
“You too, huh?” said the man.
Surprised, she turned around. “Sorry,” she said, her heart at a gallop. “I didn’t mean to listen.”
“No big deal,” he said with a smile.
His smile radiated such warmth that Georgette felt her cheeks flush. Self-conscious, she tossed her head a little to shake her curls over her face. He was not much older than her, trim and well-dressed. While not especially handsome, he was clean-cut, with rich brown hair that he had taken the time to style. Her immediate impression was that this was a man who made an effort to present the best of himself to the world. And that smile. It was a smile that rested not only on his lips but also in his eyes. Knowing that he had brought it out for her embarrassed her in the best way.
“Is—is it always so crowded here?” she said, stammering a bit.
“Don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t been here in a while. I just wanted a quick caffeine boost before I head to my last meeting.” He smiled again. “You too?”
“Oh no,” she said with a nervous giggle. “No caffeine for me. I’m just killing some time until my interview.”
“Job interview? Hey, good luck.”
“Thanks. What’s your meeting about?”
“Trying to make a sale,” he told her. “I work for an import and export company, and I’ve got a meeting with a restaurant a couple of blocks from here about becoming a regular supplier for them.”
“Sales,” she said. “Oh God, I could never do that. I get anxious just thinking about trying to sell something to somebody.”
“I get it,” he said with a nod. “What kind of work are you looking for?”
His smile had her so flustered that she almost told him the truth. She caught herself in time and said, “IT,” instead.
“Hey,” he chuckled, “I could never do what you do. I know just enough about my computer to use it. When it breaks down, I break down.”
“I get it,” she said. His eyes were as rich and comforting as the coffee the baristas poured. Her ex, Zach, had gray eyes, a pale shade as dull and joyless as ice. Zach had also been a salesman of sorts, but his smile had held none of the warmth and charm this man’s did.
The woman in front of her paid and moved to the end of the counter, allowing Georgette to step up to the cashier. “Good luck with your sale,” she tossed out before placing her order.
“Thanks.”
She felt his eyes on her as she ordered a pumpkin muffin and cinnamon tea, and it made her cheeks burn. Georgette wondered why she was comparing this guy to Zach. Maybe it was just that this man was the first to look at her with interest in a long time. Zach never had. Actually, very few men had ever looked at her like that. She’d grown up as the plain-Jane of her family. In a house of dark beauty, she’d been a pale stain—only noticed for how different she was.
When she received her drink and snack, she glanced around, but the young man was nowhere in sight. Though a little disappointed, she wasn’t surprised. He was off to his meeting and didn’t have time for a freckle-faced four-eyes. Well, with a smile like his, he was sure to do well.
Once outside the café, she immediately felt wisps of Club Nocturne’s poorly-assembled magic assault her from down the block. She checked her watch: 4:50 p.m. Just enough time to wolf down the muffin and sip the tea while she walked.
While the magic outside the building was a patchy waterfall of concealment, the enchantment inside defied explanation. With every step, a different and more bizarre type of magic assailed Georgette. Ms. Kazimiera might collect illegal familiars to work in her club, but the mishmash of powers Georgette felt as she walked through Nocturne suggested far more Fae than she had imagined. All those spells on the outside, she thought, are they a curtain to hide a witchcraft hobbyist, or a cage to keep her workforce trapped?
The man who let her into the club—a normal human from the look of him—led her down a long hallway and up two sets of stairs to an apartment area. He knocked on the first door they came to. A muffled voice answered. Opening the door, he silently waved at Georgette to enter. Once she did, he closed the door behind her, leaving her alone with the owner of the building.
At first glance, Ms. Kazimiera reminded Georgette of her sister Lily. Dark and sensual, the bounds of her skin scarcely contained the overwhelming femininity within. Art in every expression, poetry in every movement. At the far edge of youth, the creeping approach of middle age was just barely visible upon her. With one Lily-like smirk, the woman reduced Georgette to a shivering child.
At second glance, however, the resemblance melted and left Georgette with an entirely different impression. The sexy exterior, gussied up with tight, revealing clothes, hid a hardworking woman who, Georgette sensed, needed more help than she got. Her amber eyes were as sharp as cleavers—the acquired attribute of a businesswoman who needed to cut through bullshit in an instant—but they were bloodshot and carried heavy bags. Her corkscrew mane had the look of hair that had been well-kept in the past but had not been tended to recently. Kazimiera was stretched thin.
There was something else there too, something begging to be noticed, but Georgette couldn’t figure it out. It was like a palmful of water that dribbled from the edges of her hand; the more she tried to tighten her grip, the more water slipped away.
Kazimiera flashed a sly but weary smile. “Never met a nonwitch who looked at me like that.”
“Sorry,” Georgette said with a jolt. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
“You’d be no good to me otherwise.” Kazimiera sidled around her desk and circled Georgette’s chair, staring down at her with a gaze so sharp the witch felt she might draw blood. “So,” she said, resting her rump on the edge of her desk, “now I know you’re qualified for the job. Why don’t you tell me why you want it.”
“I need a job,” Georgette lied. “I saw your ad in Vegas and—”
“Why do you want this job?” Kazimiera asked pointedly. “You must know that this isn’t a typical business. Why would a capable witch take a job from”—she smirked—“a scandalous pretender like myself?”
Expecting a question like this, Georgette had prepared an answer but now that she was faced with Kazimiera’s cutting eyes, she wasn’t sure it would work. “I’m a college dropout with no family connections to tap,” she said. “My craft is the only bankable skill I have.”
The club owner stared, unblinking, at Georgette. When concocting her answer, Georgette had worried she would blush—but now, face-to-face with this woman, she felt all color drain out of her cheeks.
“You do understand that working for me will make you unemployable with most of your community?”
“Screw ’em,” Georgette replied.
The honesty of her response must have shown in her expression. Kazimiera nodded appreciatively; her red lips curled into a grin.
“You remind me of the last witch to work for me,” she said. “He had a ‘screw ’em all’ attitude too.” Kazimiera sighed. “Martin worked here a long time. I was sorry to lose him.”
“Well,” Georgette jumped in, “he didn’t do a great job on the exterior of your building. It works well enough but it’s messy. I can clean it up.”
“You think you’re better than Martin?”
“No,” Georgette said, horrified at her own forwardness. “It’s just that it looks like he layered his magics. That’s old-fashioned spellcraft. I know more modern methods. I’m guessing,” she added, “that Martin is an older gentleman?”
“Was. He’s dead.”
“Oh,” Georgette said. She couldn’t help but be unsettled by Kazimiera’s casual tone. “I’m sorry.”
“I liked him,” Kazimiera said, eyeing Georgette closely. “I especially liked that he worked for room and board.”
“He lived here?”
“He did. Apartment 7B. It’s been empty since he died.”
“Is that a requirement of this job?” Georgette asked. “Because I don’t—”
“It’s a perk,” Kazimiera said, “once I’m convinced that you’re right for the job. Until then, you’ll come here for regular hours—”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Georgette said. “I got the job? Just like that?”
“On a trial basis, yes.” Kazimiera flashed another sly smile. “That is what you wanted, right?”
“Sure, but … I thought this was just an interview.”
“It should have been,” Kazimiera said, “but I’ve been running ads for eight months and you’re the only one who’s applied for the job. So do you want it or not?”
“Um, y-yes,” Georgette stammered. “Yes, I do.” Her mind reeled. She hadn’t expected this to be so easy. “When should I start?”
“Tomorrow. Come in after 5:00 p.m. You’ll start by fixing the spells that cloak the outside of the building. That should keep you busy awhile.”
“Okay,” Georgette said, “but why 5:00 p.m.? I mean, won’t it be harder for me to examine everything if your employees are getting the club ready to open?”
“I work nights,” said Kazimiera, her hatchet stare cutting off Georgette’s questions. “My club, my building, my rules.”
Nursing a suspicion, Georgette glanced around the room. The apartment that served as Kazimiera’s office was lit exclusively by low-wattage lamps that kept the room in constant artificial twilight. The windows were covered by thick, heavy curtains that blocked out all hint of the setting sun. She looked again at her would-be employer’s bloodshot eyes.
“Are you … ?”
Kazimiera smiled, her red lips parting to show her pointed teeth. The sight of them sent a shiver across Georgette’s skin and put her hair on end.
“I,” Kazimiera said, “am the boss.”
18
Neil
THE TASTE OF COFFEE LINGERED ON NEIL’S TONGUE LONG AFTER the meeting. If he’d noticed it earlier, he would have taken a breath mint, but he had been distracted by thoughts of the girl from the coffee shop. Thankfully, if the client did notice his breath, it hadn’t prevented him from signing on to the sale. In a good mood, Neil felt optimistic about seeing the girl again.
That halo of blonde curls had sparked his interest, but her unique face was what had caught him on fire. Her freckles were like a splatter of paint on a canvas, an abstract work of art. In the center of a small face, her blue eyes looked adorably big behind her glasses. And she’d blushed when she talked to him! Too cute, he thought.
After the meeting, he walked up and down the street several times, wondering where she was interviewing. Though tempted, he stopped short of ducking into any of the businesses to look for her; he didn’t want to cross the line into stalker territory.
Moments away from designating the IT girl a “missed opportunity,” he saw a cloud of gold exit Club Nocturne. The breeze caught her as she stepped through the door, whipping about her white blouse and blue hippie skirt. She turned her face into the wind and smiled as it played with her hair. God, what a sweet smile!
Seeing her again, his optimism faltered. A girl like that definitely had a boyfriend. Even if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to be interested in a skinny creeper she met at a coffee shop. He was setting himself up to get shot down.
Still, when she headed up the street, he drew a deep breath, exhaled, and steeled himself. “Come on,” he said to himself. “Let’s do this.”
He jogged up the street, quickly closing the gap between them. “Hey!” he called out in what he hoped was a friendly tone. “IT interview, right?”
Whirling around, the expression on her face was one of instant distrust. Embarrassed, he wanted to cover his face and slide down a storm drain. But then he saw recognition in her eyes, and, to his relief, she smiled—and blushed again.
“Import sales guy,” she said as he trotted up next to her.
“Neil.”
“Also known as Neil,” she chuckled. “I’m Georgette.”
Georgette. God, that’s so perfect. “Hey, uh … hey.”
“Hey. How was your meeting?”
“Good! Just finished the sale, stepped out, and saw you,” he lied. He looked up at the sign over the building’s front door. “You were interviewing at Nocturne?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Their system is really out of date. The owner wants me to update everything.”
“So you got the job? That’s great!”
“Yeah,” she said, looking a little bewildered. “It happened kinda fast. I didn’t expect to get hired today.”
“That’s good though, right?” Dry-mouthed, he tried to swallow. “I guess you’ll be going out to celebrate tonight?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. I doubt my roommates would want to.”
Roommates. Not boyfriend, roommates. With his heart pounding, he pushed through his fear and asked, “Can I take you out? Drinks or something?”
The naked amazement on her face caught him off guard. She stammered a bit, making his chest constrict; he was sure she was inventing an excuse to say no. But then she smiled and laughed.
“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “I’d like that.”
He grinned, his fear dissipating. A swell of confidence filled him up like a rising tide.
Georgette.
19
Ishak
“WAKE UP!”
Ishak shook Mei-Xing as hard as he dared but her limp body did not respond. Muttering darkly, he wondered if her plant body had bones to break or if he could safely increase his force. Instead, he continued staring at her where she lay with corpse-like stillness on the hotel bed.
Every night, Ishak shifted form and swept the city, searching. Every day, the girls checked the kobold net and made discreet inquiries to the local magic community. And still there was no sign of Kalilah. Weeks had passed now, and his worry chewed at him like a tapeworm, devouring him slowly but steadily from the inside out.
“Wake up!” he bellowed directly into the Nymph’s ear.
Ishak was itching to begin his nightly patrol of the city, but first he wanted to know how the witch’s interview at the nightclub had played out. And Georgette wasn’t there, so Mei-Xing was the only one who could answer his questions.
“Lâche pas la patate, Delia.”
The desert city glowed and shone like a star in the darkness. The desert city glowed and shone like a star in the darkness.
17
Georgette
A COOL BREEZE RUFFLED GEORGETTE’S LONG, TIERED SKIRT. Yawning, she brushed her golden curls out of her face, the loose sleeves of her peasant blouse billowing. California weather was delightful! Back in Boston, she would have been bundled up in her winter coat by now. But here it was November, and she was still in sandals.
She dug her phone out of her purse as she walked. Though she had been in San Jose almost a month now, she still struggled to develop a sense of direction. Her phone’s GPS showed she was close to Club Nocturne, but still, she was early. The interview wasn’t until 5:00 p.m., almost half an hour from now. Well, she would make sure she knew exactly where Club Nocturne was and then find a place to wait. That would give her a chance to calm her nerves before meeting with her potential employer.
Initially, she had planned to follow Olive’s advice and not put down roots until she had completely shed her old identity—but circumstances had changed. As she feared, Ishak interrogating the Zamek’s clerk had resulted in her being blacklisted at every brokerage for hundreds of miles around. However, Ishak’s actions had also produced an unexpected result: no one wanted to be caught in possession of the female Bultungin that had caused a crazy young witch to turn her familiar loose on a brokerage. As far as Georgette could tell, Kett & Kadena still had Kalilah—and, at least for now, wasn’t trying to sell her.
Ishak had campaigned for a direct assault on the brokerage office, but Georgette had objected. While open warfare might get them through the door, it wouldn’t help them find Kalilah once they were inside. Kett & Kadena might have a dozen storage facilities, any one of which could be holding Kalilah. In the time it took them to raid an office and steal the inventory records, KK Inc. employees could move Kalilah to a new facility or even kill her to avoid future problems. This second possibility had convinced Ishak to consider other options.
When Mei-Xing suggested using a third party to locate Kalilah, Georgette had remembered something: while looking at the Vegas billboard advertising Zamek’s, she had seen other notices, including one from a nightclub in San Jose seeking a witch’s services. A quick investigation on the kobold net had revealed that Club Nocturne had an odd reputation. Rumor had it that the owner, Ms. Kazimiera, was a weekend spellcaster who hired real witches to hide the evidence of her magical hobby. It was also a well-known secret that illegally-purchased familiars performed at Nocturne, which strongly suggested that Ms. Kazimiera was a regular customer of KK Inc. If Georgette could get a job at the club, she might be able to search Kett & Kadena’s inventory under the guise of doing so for her employer.
Georgette sensed the nightclub half a block before arriving. The entire eight-story building was like a fountain of magic, everflowing and giving off a misty spray that she felt on her skin the closer she got. The spellcraft, though effective at masking what was inside, was sloppy as hell. It was a half-assed patchwork of spells, one magic laid on top of another without properly integrating them. No well-taught witch would work craft like this. No well-taught witch would work here, either, she thought.
At the corner, Georgette found a busy coffee shop and got in line. No caffeine, she sternly warned herself, you’re jittery enough already. The aroma of cinnamon kissed her senses, and she felt her stomach growl. Couldn’t hurt to have a snack. She didn’t want to be thinking about food during the interview.
“Jeez,” she heard a man’s voice mumble behind her, “it’s four thirty already? Where the hell did the afternoon go?”
Amused by his mystified tone, Georgette chuckled.
“You too, huh?” said the man.
Surprised, she turned around. “Sorry,” she said, her heart at a gallop. “I didn’t mean to listen.”
“No big deal,” he said with a smile.
His smile radiated such warmth that Georgette felt her cheeks flush. Self-conscious, she tossed her head a little to shake her curls over her face. He was not much older than her, trim and well-dressed. While not especially handsome, he was clean-cut, with rich brown hair that he had taken the time to style. Her immediate impression was that this was a man who made an effort to present the best of himself to the world. And that smile. It was a smile that rested not only on his lips but also in his eyes. Knowing that he had brought it out for her embarrassed her in the best way.
“Is—is it always so crowded here?” she said, stammering a bit.
“Don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t been here in a while. I just wanted a quick caffeine boost before I head to my last meeting.” He smiled again. “You too?”
“Oh no,” she said with a nervous giggle. “No caffeine for me. I’m just killing some time until my interview.”
“Job interview? Hey, good luck.”
“Thanks. What’s your meeting about?”
“Trying to make a sale,” he told her. “I work for an import and export company, and I’ve got a meeting with a restaurant a couple of blocks from here about becoming a regular supplier for them.”
“Sales,” she said. “Oh God, I could never do that. I get anxious just thinking about trying to sell something to somebody.”
“I get it,” he said with a nod. “What kind of work are you looking for?”
His smile had her so flustered that she almost told him the truth. She caught herself in time and said, “IT,” instead.
“Hey,” he chuckled, “I could never do what you do. I know just enough about my computer to use it. When it breaks down, I break down.”
“I get it,” she said. His eyes were as rich and comforting as the coffee the baristas poured. Her ex, Zach, had gray eyes, a pale shade as dull and joyless as ice. Zach had also been a salesman of sorts, but his smile had held none of the warmth and charm this man’s did.
The woman in front of her paid and moved to the end of the counter, allowing Georgette to step up to the cashier. “Good luck with your sale,” she tossed out before placing her order.
“Thanks.”
She felt his eyes on her as she ordered a pumpkin muffin and cinnamon tea, and it made her cheeks burn. Georgette wondered why she was comparing this guy to Zach. Maybe it was just that this man was the first to look at her with interest in a long time. Zach never had. Actually, very few men had ever looked at her like that. She’d grown up as the plain-Jane of her family. In a house of dark beauty, she’d been a pale stain—only noticed for how different she was.
When she received her drink and snack, she glanced around, but the young man was nowhere in sight. Though a little disappointed, she wasn’t surprised. He was off to his meeting and didn’t have time for a freckle-faced four-eyes. Well, with a smile like his, he was sure to do well.
Once outside the café, she immediately felt wisps of Club Nocturne’s poorly-assembled magic assault her from down the block. She checked her watch: 4:50 p.m. Just enough time to wolf down the muffin and sip the tea while she walked.
While the magic outside the building was a patchy waterfall of concealment, the enchantment inside defied explanation. With every step, a different and more bizarre type of magic assailed Georgette. Ms. Kazimiera might collect illegal familiars to work in her club, but the mishmash of powers Georgette felt as she walked through Nocturne suggested far more Fae than she had imagined. All those spells on the outside, she thought, are they a curtain to hide a witchcraft hobbyist, or a cage to keep her workforce trapped?
The man who let her into the club—a normal human from the look of him—led her down a long hallway and up two sets of stairs to an apartment area. He knocked on the first door they came to. A muffled voice answered. Opening the door, he silently waved at Georgette to enter. Once she did, he closed the door behind her, leaving her alone with the owner of the building.
At first glance, Ms. Kazimiera reminded Georgette of her sister Lily. Dark and sensual, the bounds of her skin scarcely contained the overwhelming femininity within. Art in every expression, poetry in every movement. At the far edge of youth, the creeping approach of middle age was just barely visible upon her. With one Lily-like smirk, the woman reduced Georgette to a shivering child.
At second glance, however, the resemblance melted and left Georgette with an entirely different impression. The sexy exterior, gussied up with tight, revealing clothes, hid a hardworking woman who, Georgette sensed, needed more help than she got. Her amber eyes were as sharp as cleavers—the acquired attribute of a businesswoman who needed to cut through bullshit in an instant—but they were bloodshot and carried heavy bags. Her corkscrew mane had the look of hair that had been well-kept in the past but had not been tended to recently. Kazimiera was stretched thin.
There was something else there too, something begging to be noticed, but Georgette couldn’t figure it out. It was like a palmful of water that dribbled from the edges of her hand; the more she tried to tighten her grip, the more water slipped away.
Kazimiera flashed a sly but weary smile. “Never met a nonwitch who looked at me like that.”
“Sorry,” Georgette said with a jolt. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
“You’d be no good to me otherwise.” Kazimiera sidled around her desk and circled Georgette’s chair, staring down at her with a gaze so sharp the witch felt she might draw blood. “So,” she said, resting her rump on the edge of her desk, “now I know you’re qualified for the job. Why don’t you tell me why you want it.”
“I need a job,” Georgette lied. “I saw your ad in Vegas and—”
“Why do you want this job?” Kazimiera asked pointedly. “You must know that this isn’t a typical business. Why would a capable witch take a job from”—she smirked—“a scandalous pretender like myself?”
Expecting a question like this, Georgette had prepared an answer but now that she was faced with Kazimiera’s cutting eyes, she wasn’t sure it would work. “I’m a college dropout with no family connections to tap,” she said. “My craft is the only bankable skill I have.”
The club owner stared, unblinking, at Georgette. When concocting her answer, Georgette had worried she would blush—but now, face-to-face with this woman, she felt all color drain out of her cheeks.
“You do understand that working for me will make you unemployable with most of your community?”
“Screw ’em,” Georgette replied.
The honesty of her response must have shown in her expression. Kazimiera nodded appreciatively; her red lips curled into a grin.
“You remind me of the last witch to work for me,” she said. “He had a ‘screw ’em all’ attitude too.” Kazimiera sighed. “Martin worked here a long time. I was sorry to lose him.”
“Well,” Georgette jumped in, “he didn’t do a great job on the exterior of your building. It works well enough but it’s messy. I can clean it up.”
“You think you’re better than Martin?”
“No,” Georgette said, horrified at her own forwardness. “It’s just that it looks like he layered his magics. That’s old-fashioned spellcraft. I know more modern methods. I’m guessing,” she added, “that Martin is an older gentleman?”
“Was. He’s dead.”
“Oh,” Georgette said. She couldn’t help but be unsettled by Kazimiera’s casual tone. “I’m sorry.”
“I liked him,” Kazimiera said, eyeing Georgette closely. “I especially liked that he worked for room and board.”
“He lived here?”
“He did. Apartment 7B. It’s been empty since he died.”
“Is that a requirement of this job?” Georgette asked. “Because I don’t—”
“It’s a perk,” Kazimiera said, “once I’m convinced that you’re right for the job. Until then, you’ll come here for regular hours—”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Georgette said. “I got the job? Just like that?”
“On a trial basis, yes.” Kazimiera flashed another sly smile. “That is what you wanted, right?”
“Sure, but … I thought this was just an interview.”
“It should have been,” Kazimiera said, “but I’ve been running ads for eight months and you’re the only one who’s applied for the job. So do you want it or not?”
“Um, y-yes,” Georgette stammered. “Yes, I do.” Her mind reeled. She hadn’t expected this to be so easy. “When should I start?”
“Tomorrow. Come in after 5:00 p.m. You’ll start by fixing the spells that cloak the outside of the building. That should keep you busy awhile.”
“Okay,” Georgette said, “but why 5:00 p.m.? I mean, won’t it be harder for me to examine everything if your employees are getting the club ready to open?”
“I work nights,” said Kazimiera, her hatchet stare cutting off Georgette’s questions. “My club, my building, my rules.”
Nursing a suspicion, Georgette glanced around the room. The apartment that served as Kazimiera’s office was lit exclusively by low-wattage lamps that kept the room in constant artificial twilight. The windows were covered by thick, heavy curtains that blocked out all hint of the setting sun. She looked again at her would-be employer’s bloodshot eyes.
“Are you … ?”
Kazimiera smiled, her red lips parting to show her pointed teeth. The sight of them sent a shiver across Georgette’s skin and put her hair on end.
“I,” Kazimiera said, “am the boss.”
18
Neil
THE TASTE OF COFFEE LINGERED ON NEIL’S TONGUE LONG AFTER the meeting. If he’d noticed it earlier, he would have taken a breath mint, but he had been distracted by thoughts of the girl from the coffee shop. Thankfully, if the client did notice his breath, it hadn’t prevented him from signing on to the sale. In a good mood, Neil felt optimistic about seeing the girl again.
That halo of blonde curls had sparked his interest, but her unique face was what had caught him on fire. Her freckles were like a splatter of paint on a canvas, an abstract work of art. In the center of a small face, her blue eyes looked adorably big behind her glasses. And she’d blushed when she talked to him! Too cute, he thought.
After the meeting, he walked up and down the street several times, wondering where she was interviewing. Though tempted, he stopped short of ducking into any of the businesses to look for her; he didn’t want to cross the line into stalker territory.
Moments away from designating the IT girl a “missed opportunity,” he saw a cloud of gold exit Club Nocturne. The breeze caught her as she stepped through the door, whipping about her white blouse and blue hippie skirt. She turned her face into the wind and smiled as it played with her hair. God, what a sweet smile!
Seeing her again, his optimism faltered. A girl like that definitely had a boyfriend. Even if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to be interested in a skinny creeper she met at a coffee shop. He was setting himself up to get shot down.
Still, when she headed up the street, he drew a deep breath, exhaled, and steeled himself. “Come on,” he said to himself. “Let’s do this.”
He jogged up the street, quickly closing the gap between them. “Hey!” he called out in what he hoped was a friendly tone. “IT interview, right?”
Whirling around, the expression on her face was one of instant distrust. Embarrassed, he wanted to cover his face and slide down a storm drain. But then he saw recognition in her eyes, and, to his relief, she smiled—and blushed again.
“Import sales guy,” she said as he trotted up next to her.
“Neil.”
“Also known as Neil,” she chuckled. “I’m Georgette.”
Georgette. God, that’s so perfect. “Hey, uh … hey.”
“Hey. How was your meeting?”
“Good! Just finished the sale, stepped out, and saw you,” he lied. He looked up at the sign over the building’s front door. “You were interviewing at Nocturne?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Their system is really out of date. The owner wants me to update everything.”
“So you got the job? That’s great!”
“Yeah,” she said, looking a little bewildered. “It happened kinda fast. I didn’t expect to get hired today.”
“That’s good though, right?” Dry-mouthed, he tried to swallow. “I guess you’ll be going out to celebrate tonight?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. I doubt my roommates would want to.”
Roommates. Not boyfriend, roommates. With his heart pounding, he pushed through his fear and asked, “Can I take you out? Drinks or something?”
The naked amazement on her face caught him off guard. She stammered a bit, making his chest constrict; he was sure she was inventing an excuse to say no. But then she smiled and laughed.
“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “I’d like that.”
He grinned, his fear dissipating. A swell of confidence filled him up like a rising tide.
Georgette.
19
Ishak
“WAKE UP!”
Ishak shook Mei-Xing as hard as he dared but her limp body did not respond. Muttering darkly, he wondered if her plant body had bones to break or if he could safely increase his force. Instead, he continued staring at her where she lay with corpse-like stillness on the hotel bed.
Every night, Ishak shifted form and swept the city, searching. Every day, the girls checked the kobold net and made discreet inquiries to the local magic community. And still there was no sign of Kalilah. Weeks had passed now, and his worry chewed at him like a tapeworm, devouring him slowly but steadily from the inside out.
“Wake up!” he bellowed directly into the Nymph’s ear.
Ishak was itching to begin his nightly patrol of the city, but first he wanted to know how the witch’s interview at the nightclub had played out. And Georgette wasn’t there, so Mei-Xing was the only one who could answer his questions.
