Nova
I fling my black hair over my shoulder and bite back a sigh.
The hand grabbing my ass kneads it like bread dough. “That's it, sweetheart. Get that beer, and we'll get real close.”
“Get your hand off my ass,” I say evenly.
His expression bleeds to confusion. Probably a common occurrence given his double-digit IQ. Yeah.
His fingers dig into my butt cheek through my jeans, and I wince. The commonness of being pawed here doesn’t make it right. Just because I desperately need a job doesn't automatically give a man the right to lay his hands on me.
I don't want to, but I can't help the flesh-crawling magic that’s beginning to tingle along my skin like a fine perfume.
My eyes close from the rush of power.
I let the music of the lowly bar I work at fade away, and the fingers that clamp down on my buttocks go numb as the forbidden happens.
My magic has its way.
I imagine each unwanted fingerprint of the douche's hand as though it is on fire, flames consuming it.
A chair scrapes backward then an accompanying howl sounds. “Fuck me!” the voice bursts in horror and surprise.
I smile as his hands jerk away from me.
Fucking cunt, I hear his slur in my head.
My eyes open, and I face a patron who is typical in this den of inequity I call a job. Standing, he is well over six foot. He looms over me, shaking his burning hands.
I notice the tips of his fingers are chaffed and red. The skin is peeling as though he just touched hot coals.
I smirk, and his hand raises as though to strike me.
“Don't,” I warn. And as is typical, he doesn't stop.
He's not clever enough to understand the inexplicable. He only knows that he touched me and his fingers got torched.
I somehow caused it, though it makes no sense.
Magic pours out of me. Being a classically trained witch has its advantages.
His fist is a flesh meteor, and I crush it to dust with a thought.
My magic couldn’t succeed if he was pure of heart.
Woman-Beater bellows into the noisy bar, “Fucking freak!” He folds his handless arm against his breastbone, pinwheeling away. He takes his wounded ass and high tails it out of the bar, glancing at me with a familiar frozen expression of fear.
I don't mind it from him.
His buddies scoot their chairs back on the rough wood. The whites of their eyes are too wide in their faces.
“Jesus, let's get out of here!” one says.
I whistle a little tune as I scan the table and scoop up the dollar bills. No tip from this table. Just enough to cover the tab. I feel a tip would have been far more equitable.
With a disgusted exhale, I stuff the money into the front pouch of my apron.
I turn around and silence greets me. The music has fallen away.
Patrons stand.
Oops.
My boss, also serving as bartender, moves to my side.
Luey scrubs his face with a small shrug. “I try to be reasonable, Nova, but ya leave me no choice. You keep chasing customers out. I'll have to let you go.”
My stomach bottoms out. I need this job.
I lean forward, my palms flat on Luey's chest. He flinches, and it makes my soul ache that my friend—my boss—would fear me. “I—he'll get his hand back. It's just an illusion, Lue.” My eyes search his, and I know all he sees in the smoky gloom of the bar are the twin holes of black in my face.
I have excellent night vision and zero in on his face perfectly.
“I'm sorry, Nova. Illusion or not, it looked damn real from where I stood.”
I hear muttering behind me, and the fine hairs at the nape of my neck lift. I look around. I know the tenor of the crowd.
Witch hunt, modern style.
I back away, handing my apron full of money to Luey. He watches me go with an expression like someone just kicked his puppy.
I try to explain, “It's just a parlor trick—an illusion.”
A few patrons shake their heads. One throws a chip at me. It hits my temple and breaks beneath my combat boot as I retreat.
Shit begins to fly.
I run.
I don't let the tears flow until I'm a half-mile downwind of the place.
Nobody's going to see me break down.
*
I kick a loose pebble with the chunky sole of my boot and it flies into the ditch.
My thumb goes out as I hear a car approach. I let out a tendril of discernment and sense that it isn’t someone from the bar.
They pass me, spraying the shoulder with the water from the wet pavement.
It slaps the cuffs of my jeans, soaking into my shoes.
Nice.
I have a pity party right there in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt, ʼcuz it's where I happen to be.
Staggering off the shoulder of the two-lane highway, I leap over the narrow drainage ditch and traipse into the deep woods that border the road. I sink down on my haunches, my wet feet throbbing from the walk.
Normally I carpool with Ren, but tonight he's probably doing damage control. He'll be along eventually.
How many jobs have I had in the last year?
Ten.
I put my head in my hands. If only I could get a job where my differences wouldn't get attention.
I wipe the back of my hand against my nose, pissed that I've fucked up yet another job.
I slide my palms back and forth on my jeans to warm them before blowing on the chilled skin.
It's October and too cool for me to walk. Rain and shitty Pacific Northwest weather has set in. Go figure.
I swipe at my eyes, mulling over my options.
Go back to my seedy apartment and make another manipulation spell so I don't have to pay next month's rent?
Goddess, what a mess.
Or I can dream some more about that yummy dude who keeps interfering with my sleep. He has eyes like chips of coal in a face so handsome, I ache to touch it. He keeps calling to me as though through water.
I'd let him do more than grab my ass.
My lips tilt.
I scan my surroundings with my eyes. Then I do the same with my mind.
The small nocturnal animals of the forest thrill inside the cloak of the night, foraging, hunting—breeding.
The fingers of my power splay, scattering my senses to the four directions.
I get a hit like a club about a mile north of my position. That's not good. Time to go.
Forces that most people don't know about are moving in my direction. I heed the warning Grammy gave me from when she brought me up.
I remember her words as she lay dying when I'd only been sixteen.
We are Druid.
She had been so certain. That explained the witchery.
I grunt as I jump back across the small gulley and walk toward the road.
There are hunters of our kind.
I had taken her hand those six years ago, though it feels like yesterday.
Clothe yourself in shadow, Nova.
Her flesh had been cool, growing colder without the kiss of life.
I run, ignoring the painful slide of wet socks against my skin. Blisters rise like oil on water.
Her final words were even more scary. We fear what we don't know.
Beware the Reaper, she'd said.
I don't know what a Reaper is exactly, but a mental image of Death, with his creepy scythe and all, comes to mind. Not digging on that.
Grammy's mouth had opened to warn me of more, but time ran out. I always wonder what other things she'd meant to say, to make sure I was aware of.
Now I'll never know.
Air burns in my lungs. I conjure a spell of enhancement like a donut around me, and the oxygen percentage in the two-foot radius kicks up a notch. Instantly my gait smooths, my breaths come more evenly. I fly—free to run all the way to my craphole apartment.
I don't make it but another half mile before I see shadows disengage from the trees to become figures.
You can't outrun fate.
Destiny inserts itself where it will.
I slow, waving my palm at the spell, and it shatters like fine mist. I don't need oxygen for this new threat.
Three men I've never seen before move out of the tree line.
Instantly I know they're the threat I sensed earlier.
They move fast.
I'm really missing that ride with Ren about now.
Damn.
I let my power unroll. It hits them like a wave coming to rest at the shore, and I identify them.
Other. Non-human.
Shit.
My pulse speeds and their eyes move to my throat.
Holy hell, they can sense my blood.
I retreat a step.
Their eyes are like reflective silver discs in faces too pale to be human. Their hair is as inky as my own.
“Female,” the middle one says.
I cock an eyebrow. As per normal, my smart mouth opens. “Really? You're not serious with that line? I'm thinking the cave man bludgeoning club will spring to action any second.”
His head cocks at an angle, a small frown wrinkling his forehead.
I laugh. It's too funny for words. Here I am in the middle of nowhere, and these half-naked giants just throw themselves out of the woods and call me female.
Priceless.
His eyes narrow like molten mercury.
Instantly, he's right before me—like ten inches from my face.
I do what I always do when I'm cornered—magic.
I instantly toss protection around myself. It's a spell I mastered when Grammy was potty-training me. Actually, she taught it as my first spell. The spell only works with non-humans.
I retreat from the guy. His eyes narrow on where I was.
I don't know what flavor this big muscle-y dude is, but I'm not interested in buying what he's selling.
His nostrils flare, and he moves closer to my position.
Damn.
Invisibility doesn't work either.
Now I know what he is, what they all are. My eyes take in the three coming for me, locating me without sight.
Just scent.
Vampire.