I took Vitor back to my office to regroup. My office was also where I lived...with my mom. (You try making a living on almost no magic and see if you do better. Hint: You can't. Been there. Done that. Had the weird roommate who always used my razor.)
Naturally, mom was home. This was my karma. She saw all the things I did that she didn't like. I couldn't sneak a sneeze past her let alone large things like vampires. But I'd give it the ol' witch try, anyway.
"So, you need to be quiet." I pulled into the driveway behind my mother's chrome pink Charger. She liked it when people looked, and she could afford the insurance to cover theft.
"I wasn't talking."
"I mean, inside. Just let me do the talking if we run into my mother, okay? She's not a fan of fangs."
Vitor nodded. "Understood. I can wait outside if you like."
"No. My office is upstairs. I just need to get us in there, and we'll be good. Just don't do anything to spook her." I hopped out of my hearse and waited for Vitor to join me. "Come on." I led the way to the side door.
My mother and I lived in a rambling Victorian located in the Supernatural Quarter of Cleveland. She'd restored it long before I was born. Painted in a rainbow of hues true to the Victorian era, it had a turret, three staircases, and rooms full of gleaming wood topped with crown molding.
When I was little, I'd thought it was fun to hide and make everyone panic. There were so many nooks, crannies, and even a few secret passages, that it would take an hour for people to hunt me down. Usually I gave away my position by giggling. When I'd hid one time too many, mom slapped a tracking charm on me and that had been the end of that.
Normally when mom was home, she'd be in her study at the front of the house. My office was up in the attic, and if I took the back staircase on tiptoe, she might not even notice my arrival. Putting my finger to my lips as one last warning, I eased open the back door and motioned for Vitor to enter.
He held back. "I can not pass."
"Oh right. I forgot. The wards." Vampires could go anywhere they wanted, but wards made the urban legends seem true. I did a quick check of the hallway to make sure my mom wasn't around and then in a quiet whisper I defused the wards on the house."I invite you in."
"Thanks." He sauntered past me and then paused while I shut the door. "Why do we have to hide from your mother?"
"Asks the guy who hasn't had a mom in what? Three hundred years?"
He shrugged. "My mother made me borscht every time I came home. And poppy seed rolls."
"Well, my mom doesn't cook. I don't get borsht and poppy seed rolls."
Vitor frowned and looked at me hard. "Wait. You are not a child, are you? The age of adulthood has not changed again, has it?"
"No. I'm an adult." I bit my lip. That'd come out louder than I'd intended.
"If you are of age, you can do as you wish." His tone suggested he was confused as to why I didn't know this fun fact.
"You haven't met my mom. Let's just leave it at that." I waved for him to follow me. "This way." I headed for the back steps.
"Perhaps you should find your own place."
I whirled around and glared at his nose. I didn't want to risk direct eye contact, but I hoped his nose felt uncomfortable."Can you not? We have other things to worry about."
Thankfully, he shut up, and we crept up the stairs. We passed the second floor and then the door to the attic came into sight. I breathed a cautious sigh of relief.
I'd claimed the attic as mine in high school. When it became apparent I wouldn't follow in mom's footsteps, it had become my haven. After college, when it was very clear there was still no hope for me, I'd turned it into an office.
I should've moved out, but mom's house was huge, and my bounty hunter paycheck was small. In theory, there was enough space for us to never cross paths. Of course, my mom didn't care about theories. She was a force unto herself.
Turning the knob, I threw the door open and strode into my office. "Come in."
At the same time, my mother said, "Sylvie, we have to talk."
I whipped my head to the right. "Mom? What are you doing here?"
Mom sat in one of the chairs in front of my desk, legs and arms crossed. As always, her blonde hair was in a tight chignon. A sheath dress in light blue hugged her figure, kept trim by her levitation volleyball league. Naturally, there was a matching purse at her feet, and nude pumps made her ankles look delicate and her legs taut. Mom made the word together feel inadequate.
I sucked in my stomach and stood straighter in my boots. I didn't want the weight talk on top of whatever else she had on her agenda. In reality, I was too damn old for any weight talk, but I'd noticed motherhood did strange things to personal boundaries.
Spotting an empty pizza box on my desk, I lunged forward and stuffed it into the garbage. Late nights meant fast food. I worked it off chasing skip traces. Mostly.
She stood and clacked her way over to me in her sky-high heels for a quick hug. The orange and bergamot in her custom made perfume enveloped me.
I coughed.
"I heard about Thorne. The High Priestess is upset."
"She called you?"
"Yes. It turns out..." She caught sight of Vitor. "Who is this?"
Vitor stepped forward and bowed. "Vitor Volikov."
"Russian?"
He nodded.
Mom gave me a look. "I thought I warded the house against vampires."
Vitor gestured to me. "I was invited by your daughter."
"I told you to be quiet, remember?" I bared my teeth in a growl.
My mother sucked in one of her deep, calming breaths. "Don't growl, dear. You're a witch, not a shifter."
I frowned at her. "I like growling. It's satisfying."
"Regardless, it's not something the witches of our line do." She sniffed. "Anyway, why is this," she flicked a finger in Vitor's direction, "vampire here?"
"He knows Thorne."
"Ah. I see. What leads do you have?"
"I know what I'm doing, mom."
"Of course, but in Thorne's case, I want to help." A phone rang, and everyone started looking for their phones.
The screen on mine was black. "Not me."
Vitor held up his and shook his head.
"Must be me then." Mom went to where her purse lay on my desk. Picking it up, she checked the caller id. "It's the High Priestess. She's probably looking for an update on Thorne."
"What?" My eyes widened. "Why?" The High Priestess didn't care about skip traces. let alone call my mom about them. This was new.
"The Witch's Council has an interest in Sheridon Thorne. The High Priestess is...concerned." She answered the call. "I'll be right down. Sylvie's here and ready to report on what she knows." Mom shot me a pointed look as she hung up. "She's at the door. I'll go bring her up."
"Wait. The High Priestess is here? Here at our house? To see me? About Thorne? What?" She'd never gotten involved in my day-to-day before. The Triad might call me if things were taking a long time, but that was about it. This was weird.
"Yes to all of that. "Mom stood and grabbed her purse. "This shifter is a bigger threat than we knew, but I'll let her explain." She moved to leave, and Vitor stepped to the side so she could go. I could only stare, utterly dumbstruck.
Just before the stairs, Mom stopped short and spun back around. Slipping her hand into her purse, she pulled out a square white envelope. "Oh. I almost forgot. This came for you today."
I took it. "What is it?"
"Your invitation to the Witch's Ball."
I groaned and tossed the envelope onto my desk. "I'm not going."
"But you are." She gave me a bright smile. "The Gudkind family has a son your age. Their line goes back centuries. Some of the earlier witches in the Americas. They understand the value of our lineage and are quite interested in a possible match."
"I'm. Not. Going." I spat the words out through gritted teeth. By match, she meant arranged marriage.
Technically, I had the say-so in who I married, but Mom had her own ideas about the technicalities of my autonomy as an adult. It was easy enough to work around her when she fussed over my clothes or habits. This wasn't going to be so simple. More than anything, she wanted me married and popping out witches. Specifically, witches with more power than me.
"Yes. You. Are." My mother spat right back. Her mouth pinched shut then, and her eyes glittered like sharp blades in light. Our gazes dueled for several long seconds. Finally, she gave an aggrieved sigh and headed down the stairs. "Musn't keep the High Priestess waiting. This is an urgent matter."
"The Witch's Ball?" Vitor asked.
"Yes. Your mother made you soup, mine connives to marry me off." I sat at my desk and cradled my head in one hand while I rooted in a drawer with the other for my charmed headache remedy. The throbbing had surged at the mention of the Witch's Ball. I found the one pill I had left, and chewed and swallowed it as fast as I could. Witch remedies worked great, but they tasted like rotten ass. "But no one wants me."
"Why not?"
"I'm a terrible witch." I sighed and picked up a takeout bag that had fallen out of the garbage. I stuffed it back into the can that sat under my desk and then spun in my chair, looking for anything else that needed to be dealt with before the High Priestess arrived.
"But what is a Witch's Ball?" Vitor sat in the wooden chair in front of my desk.
"A fancy party for all the most powerful witch families. People come from all over the world." I shoved the garbage can further under my desk, making it harder to see. Standing up, I went to the kitchenette where I made my charms and neatly restacked the pyramid of dirty dishes—there wasn't time to wash them.
My supplies were in good order, at least. Open shelves held rows of cobalt blue glasses with white labels. The counters were clean, but only because my last charm had resulted in a lot of smelly goo. I hadn't minded the goo, but the smell had been corpse flower with a side of pepper spray. The stench had inspired a serious deep clean.
It wasn't the High Priestess' kitchen with its gleaming marble countertops and solid oak cabinets—which, as she told everyone all the time, came from the same tree as her wand—but I wouldn't totally disgrace myself.
The last thing I did was rearrange the oriental screen I used to hide the bed I sometimes used when I was too tired to go down to my room. A soft whine as I did so reminded me Vitor and I weren't alone.
I stepped behind the screen and squatted down by the cage on the floor. "Hey Blart."
Blart's tail thumped like a bass drum. Blond fur flew, stirred by the wind he generated, and he attempted to lick me through the cage.
"I didn't forget you, sweetie. Just a little longer, okay?" I slipped my finger through the cage and surrendered to his tongue.
Blart stopped licking, gave me a dirty look and huffed.
"It hasn't been that long." I said it more for me than him. I hated locking him up, but he followed me if I didn't, and he wasn't smart enough not to get himself killed. Then I would be known as the witch who not only had shitty magic, but also managed to murder her familiar.
A pffft sounded. I cringed and backed up before the smell hit me.
That was the other reason I left him at home. He farted. A lot. And it didn't just smell, it was toxic.
"What is that stench?" Vitor sounded alarmed.
I backed away from Blart, and wiped my slobber slimed finger on my pants. "My familiar. He has...umm...digestive issues. I keep trying different diets, but nothing works."
"Is your familiar a dragon?"
I shook my head. "No. Blart's a dog."
"Blart?"
I shrugged. "It's what he answers too." I'd tried the more dignified Sentinel for a name, but he'd refused to respond to it.
"Well, I would not keep him in my office." Vitor sniffed.
"I kind of have to. He's my familiar." I left out the parts where, one, Blart was about as magic as road kill, and two, all the other witches got, like, metaphysical unicorns and shit, but me? I got a dog. A dumb as a box of rocks dog. Who farted. A shitty familiar for my shitty magic.
I loved him anyway, though. How could I not? He loved me with a devotion I'd yet to see from anyone else.
Vitor stood and walked over to peek behind the screen. "That is your familiar?"
I just shrugged and headed for my desk.
He gave me a look filled with pity. "I should have found you sooner."
"Found me? For what?"
Before he could answer, high heels tapped on the stairs like hammers pounding nails. My mother's voice trilled up into the attic, the pitch a high 'do not fuck this up.' "The High Priestess is here."
I stood and Vitor came to stand next to me.
My mother entered first, immediately stepping to the side to make way for the High Priestess. She swept into the room dressed in full priestess regalia, a white evening gown topped by a swirling cloak, also white. A tiara set with a rainbow of stones glittered in her hair. She paused at the doorway and looked at me.
"Thorne is gone." She packed a deep judgment into those three words, as if they portended doom for all of Witchdom. I hoped she was just being dramatic. I wasn't up for anymore doom than I already had.
I nodded and motioned to a chair. "I know. Please come in."
She took another step into the room, her gaze never leaving mine. "You must find him."
"I'm working on it. "
"Please, come sit, Priestess." My mother gestured to the wooden chair in front of my desk.
The High Priestess shook her head. "No. I will not stay long." Her gaze fixed on me, hard as the stones in her tiara. "Why haven't you found him?"
"He broke the tracking charm." I fished the charm in question out of my pocket and let it drop onto my desk.
Her eyes widened for a second before she schooled her face back into its natural haughtiness. "I gave you this job because I thought you could handle it. But perhaps your magic is too weak for even this lowly work."
I gritted my teeth. "You're welcome to assign someone else to bounty hunting." I hadn't wanted the stupid job in the first place.
"She's never lost anyone before," my mother said, her voice mild.
I gave her a look of surprise. The High Priestess was our boss. Standing up for me could be a step down for her.
The High Priestess pursed her lips. "That is true."
"Hey, I didn't lose Thorne. The charm broke."
"Your cast was probably weak." The High Priestess dismissed me with a wave.
"Or he's dead. Or he found someone to break the magic." I wasn't ready to let it go.
"Well, if he's dead, he'll be easy enough to find, won't he?" The High Priestess stared at me, her mouth a tight line.
"Oh, yes." My mother hurried to agree.
"But will it be so easy to reclaim what he stole?" She drummed her fingers across her bottom lip.
"What was it?" What had Thorne stolen that had put the High Priestess at my door and in my business?
Her gaze darted to Vitor, and she hesitated for a second, as if she'd only just noticed him. She had been a little hyper focused on me. "And who is he?" She gestured to Vitor.
"Vitor Volikov." The vampire gave a sweeping bow.
"A foreign vampire. Why is he here?" Her gaze was hard enough to punch people.
"He's looking for Thorne, too."
"He has something of mine," Vitor said.
"He has something of mine as well." The High Priestess was not amused. "Something that belonged to the First Witch."
My eyes widened. "The First Witch. As in the very first witch to ever witch?"
She nodded, and my mind exploded a little bit. The First Witch had brought all magic into the world. She called the First Vampire from the grave, brought the first beast out of man and wrote the first spell book.
"I had no idea there was even anything around from her time."
"It's inside a case." She mimed a rectangle about the size of a shoe box. "Don't open it when you find it."
"Why not?"
"A witch of your level couldn't handle the power. The case is charmed to contain the magic. It's for your safety."
"Oh. Okay." Not gonna lie. I was awestruck. The First Witch was every supe's superhero.
"So you need to find Thorne and what he stole before someone else does."
"Yes. I get it." And I did want to find Thorne, more than ever. He had a piece of witch history that didn't belong to him.
"Good." The High Priestess gave a curt nod. "I expect you at the Temple tomorrow morning then."
"Tomorrow morning?" My throat tightened like an internal noose.
"You can't do it?" Her sharp voice cut the air.
"It's just...a new tracking charm will take some time and I don't know where he is." I was babbling. I'd never had a bounty this big. What if I didn't have what it took this one time that mattered most? I'd have to leave town. There would be no surviving the gossip. It might unseat my mom from the Witch Council, too. I cast a look of pre-apology her way.
"She can handle it." My mother gave a smile made of thin ice. "I'll make sure of it."
"No one else must know." The High Priestess wagged a finger at me. "It cannot leave this room." She looked at Vitor again, her brow furrowed.
I cocked my head. "Why not?"
"Because all of Witchdom would look for Thorne, too. There would be magic everywhere seeking him out. He's not the only one who would want to steal it, and in the wrong hands..." The High Priestess trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she continued to look at Vitor.
"This has to stay quiet. Yes, of course. We understand, don't we, dear?" Mom shot me a look. The one that said she'd flay me alive it I didn't say the right things.
I nodded. "Yeah. I can see that. Okay. I'll set up the tracking spell now and I'll find Thorne."
"And you..." The High Priestess beckoned Vitor with a crooked finger. "You'll come with me."
"Why would I do that?" Vitor didn't move.
She gave him a hard look. "Because vampires would like nothing more than to claim the First Witch's power. I won't have you running off and telling your masters."
Vitor still didn't move. Maybe he didn't like the High Priestess anymore than I did. "I have no master. And I have my own interest in finding Thorne."
She huffed."The witches have zero interest in what you want, and we know better than to listen to a vampire's lies."
"He's not going to say anything. Right, Vitor?" I tried to break the sudden tension the room. "Vampires can't use the magic."
"I'm not taking any risks." She moved then, a blur of white and silver hand cuffs appeared out of nowhere. She slapped them on Vitor before my brain could register what had happened. Even Vitor hadn't seen her coming because all he had time to do was flinch.
The vampire went pale as the silver sapped his strength, but he didn't go quietly. "I have done nothing wrong."
"Yet." The High Priestess gave an unimpressed huff.
Vitor cast a pleading glance at my mother, who looked away. When his gaze hit me, I just shrugged. I had no pull with the Witch Council. He had to know that from everything he'd just heard.
But his gaze didn't let up, so finally, shuffling my feet, I caved. "All right. I'll come get you once I find Thorne."
On one hand, I didn't owe him a damn thing. On the other, he was handcuffed because of me. No vampire willingly met the High Priestess unless it was a formal diplomatic effort.
Her hatred of the undead was well known. Rumor said she'd been jilted by the area's Master vampire. I'd heard she'd hexed his fangs out of his mouth and kept them in a vault in her house.
"Promise me. On your blood."
My mother gasped. "Sylvie don't."
"It's fine, mom." I held up my hand. "I promise. On my blood. To pick you up and give you a ride to any destination of reasonable distance when this is all over. But," I put up a finger, "you have to cooperate and not cause problems for the Witch Council or the deal's off."
He frowned. "That is a terrible deal."
"It's all I can offer. What were you looking for?"
"A rescue operation. Surely you know where she is taking me. Sneak in and break me out."
The High Priestess looked like she was ready to stake him on the spot and she shot me a warning don't-forget-where-your-loyalties-lie look.
"Sorry. I'm fresh out of rescues." I was so not getting between him and the High Priestess. If she knew he'd fed on me.... I didn't even want to think about it.
Vitor looked from me to the High Priestess. "Fine. I accept your meager offer of transportation."
"Is that a dig on my hearse?" I glared at him, just daring him to admit it. "I'll have you know that hearse took a hit from a dragon and still runs. Can't say the same would happen to you, even if you are immortal."
"Focus." The High Priestess snapped her fingers at me. "Thorne is what matters here. Just find him. Whatever it takes." The High Priestess shook Vitor. "And you should know better than to think there will be any escape from my dungeons."
No lie. The High Priestess had dungeons, an actual Dungeons-and-Dragons underground warren. In fifth grade, my class took a field trip to the temple complex and walked through the dungeons. We'd played 'lock 'em up and torture 'em' for weeks after at recess. One kid had even hexed prisoners with an unitchable itch to get a 'confession.'
Side note: Sometimes I could see why humans were squirrelly about supes. We were a little extra.
The High Priestess turned on her heel and marched down the stairs, dragging Vitor after her.
"And once you find Thorne, we can start shopping for your dress for the Witch's Ball." My mother gave me a narrow-eyed look, the kind mothers all over the world fix on their kids when they want them to do something. She followed that with a tight 'everything's fine' smile and hurried after the High Priestess.
For a full minute after they left, I pinched the bridge of my nose and just breathed, taking it all in. That had been an interesting meeting, to say the least. It had all happened so fast, too. My mind was spinning so fast my headache threatened to come back.
On the minus side, Vitor might've known something about Thorne's whereabouts. On the plus side, I wasn't too worried. A tracker charm would fill in for anything he knew. And it wouldn't lie, either. Or try to push the advantage to its agenda. Or suck my blood and drop me into memories that weren't mine.
I could deal.
But...
What had he meant by 'I should have found you sooner?' Like he knew me? Plus, the weird flashback when he fed on me. Vampires were freaky. Everyone knew that. They lived so long they didn't really care about taboos. I didn't need a bloodsucker distracting me with his immortal woo-woo.
Shaking my head, I went into my kitchenette and set a pot of water to boil, adding a handful of sea salt blessed under a full moon. Then, I let Blart out of his cage.
He jumped up and set his paws on my shoulders, lathering my face with kisses until I giggled. My familiar was big for a dog. So not only did I not get a beautiful spiritual unicorn to aid my magic, I got a farting dog the size of a small pony.
My mom's familiar, by the way, was an astral phoenix strong enough to project himself into the body of a black cat, a rare and powerful manifestation. She'd had high hopes for me until Blart showed up on my eighteenth birthday. He'd been a cute puppy, but had the magical 'oomph' of dandruff...on an ant.
"Blart, stop!" I tried to talk without swallowing his tongue. He was sneaky with the French kisses. The smell of my toothpaste or something drew him in. Once I'd had a bad cold that blocked off my nose and had woken up mid snore to find him delicately licking my teeth.
Of course, the love fest was all followed by a horrid fart. When the smell hit my nose, I clipped on his collar and leash and led him outside for a potty break.
For all that mom's house was large, it was on the smallest lot on the block. There was a driveway, but no room for a garage and the yard consisted of a tiny patch of grass no bigger than a picnic blanket. My mom compensated with flowers everywhere along the side of the house, and when she ran out of room to plant, she stabbed a stake in the ground and slapped on a hanging basket of petunias. This summer she'd set up a line of them down the driveway.
Blart liked petunias.
No. Not liked, loved.
And the driveway was the only way to get to the sidewalk that would take us to the dog park down the street.
"No, Blart." I tugged on his leash as he lunged for the purple petunias.
He woofed and gave me a big, tongue lolling smile before lunging again.
I dragged him to the middle of the driveway and kept the leash short. When he ate too many petunias, my mom made me buy new hanging baskets. He'd cost me two hundred dollars so far this year.
Farking petunias.
We spent a few minutes at the dog park. Blart stretched his legs, peed on everything he could find and sniffed everyone's butts, including the lady with the miniature poodle. She'd bent over to pick up her dog's poop and Blart nosed up her butt like he was looking for gold. That had thrown her off balance and hand first into the poop.
"Sorry." I motioned for Blart to come. He bounded over, tail wagging and eyes sparkling, completely unaware he'd done anything wrong.
The woman wiped poop off her hand with a plastic bag and glared at me. "Hey! Watch your dog, lady!"
"Let's go, buddy." I clipped his leash on and headed for the exit. The water had to be boiling by now, and Blart had worn out his welcome.
Back in the attic, I pulled out the plastic jewelry organizer that held the hair and nail clippings used to make my tracking charms. I didn't have many clients at large at the moment, so there were just three baggies.
I had Hunter Stevens, a lion shifter who'd been arrested for shifting in the middle of a bar dance floor. Going into the human district and letting your magic fly was a no-no. He wouldn't do time, but there'd be a big fine. That baggie held a coil of tawny hair and a thick nail clipping from Hunter's thumb.
There was Claire Smythe, who'd been caught charming men into paying for groceries and mall shopping sprees. She'd groused to me that having magic meant witches shouldn't have to pay for anything. The law saw it differently, and I couldn't relate since that kind of charm was way beyond my skill level. Her baggie had a black curl and a nail clipping that was painted red on one side.
Last came Sheridon Thorne, a werewolf and master thief arrested for stealing antiques and treating his arrest like a UFC match. His baggie...
I rummaged in the box, frowning.
His baggie was gone.
"What? That can't be right." I took out every drawer, and checked to make sure the baggies hadn't been doubled up, and turned the organizer upside down, giving it a good shake and nothing. His baggie wasn't there.
I went to my desk and searched it, thinking perhaps I'd forgotten to put his baggie away. Despite going through all the drawers and a pile of paperwork I'd been successfully avoiding for months, I came up empty.
I looked at Blart. "Did you eat Thorne's hair and nails?"
He sat and cocked his head at me, his ears up high.
It wasn't that Blart wouldn't eat something like that, but I was careful not to give him a chance. There'd been nothing unusual in his poop. Not that I examined it closely, but I would've noticed anything strange.
Blart had once swallowed a small glass figurine whole, and it had come out three days later, still in one piece. Thank the Goddess, it had survived Blart because it had been a custom sculpture of my mom's astral phoenix familiar.
After triple-checking every place I thought the baggie could be, I had to admit it wasn't there. Going down to the hearse, I rooted around in there and nothing.
Stomping up to the attic again, I turned off the stove. No point in boiling water if I didn't have the DNA I needed for the charm. Without a piece of Thorne and with Vitor gone, I'd have to find Thorne another way. Pulling his file, I went over his information.
Single. Well, duh. He hadn't exactly been a charmer when I'd bailed him out.
No physical address, just a P.O. box. All shifters used them. They were paranoid about people finding their dens.
Except...I thought back to the call Vitor had made. The barbecue place. It was a shifter hot spot. Maybe I could track down his den and grab a hair sample from that. Then I could make the charm, and with a little luck, no one would know I'd almost had a huge fail on my hands.
Ducking easy, right?
"Come on, Blart. Field trip time." I headed for the closet and pulled out my leathers. Most days I wore jeans, but when things got serious, so did the clothes. The jacket, vest and pant set had been a gift from my mother and they'd been charmed to the hilt. The only problem was that the leather pants took a lot of yanking to get on. I ditched my jeans and shirt and sat on the bed, preparing to do battle.
Blart jumped up on the bed with me to watch, his head cocked, ears flopped, ready to provide his version of assistance. Namely licking me when I wasn't looking.
Too much information: My familiar wasn't above licking my ass.
I moved away from him a bit, giving myself a longer lead time on dodging his tongue, and then I went to work. Getting the pants up to my knees wasn't so bad, but as I got bigger, the pants got smaller. I suspected there was some kind of slimming charm at play because once I got them on, they were fine.
I yanked. The pants inched up and we did this back-and-forth tug-of-war for several minutes. The pants so resisted my efforts, I felt like they were judging me.
Finally, I got the damn things over my booty bump and up to my waist. Laying back and sucking my curves in for everything I was worth, I zipped and buttoned the pants.
Sitting up proved impossible as the pants wouldn't let me bend. I rolled to my side instead and slid to my feet. If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd gained weight, but it was just the pants being an ornery, magical asshat. After a second, they gave and became less likely to cut me in half.
The vest came next. I zipped it up and shimmied the girls into place. Slinging the jacket over my shoulder, I checked the full-length mirror on the wall. Everything looked good. Which was to say, nothing bulged or showed signs of muffin top.
Although the really important part was the outfit was bullet proof, knife proof, fang proof, dragon fire proof, and absorbed hits, keeping the full force of blows away from my body. I just wish it came in a comfy yoga pant and oversized t-shirt. A stretchy elastic waist would've been nice.
Going to my desk, I grabbed my emergency credit card and some twenty-dollar bills. I zipped those into a small pocket in the vest's lining. I didn't carry a purse when I was looking for a skip trace. Purses could be lost or left behind, leaving me without money when I most needed it. I'd gotten into the habit of carrying everything on me.
Next, I stocked up on weapons and cuffs. My silver handcuffs charmed to be unbreakable went into my back pocket. My Glock, I tucked into the side holster built into the vest. I added my tazer and small knife to my gear. Could I actually fight with these weapons? Kind of. I'd taken classes and was a decent shot.
The knife was more of a tool as opposed to a defensive weapon. I used it for all sorts of things, like helping to pop the tab on my soda and cut those annoying plastic tags off new clothes. The taser was my go-to, and I hadn't had any major mishaps with it.
Basically, the whole outfit was overkill. My job never got as exciting as my outfit could handle. But I'd found people respected the look, and if anything was going to go south, it would be this case. I hoped I didn't need to be this prepared, but I was ready for anything.
I waved Blart over. "Let's go."
We bounded down the steps and then outside. Blart took his usual spot in the front passenger seat while I fastened my seat belt. Starting the hearse, I headed for Alpha's Grill.
The Supernatural Quarter wasn't large, and I arrived at the bar five minutes later. I parked in the back and cracked the windows for Blart.
"Stay here and guard the car."
He woofed, and I doubted he understood a word I'd said, but he was mildly territorial. He'd at least growl first before kissing anyone who tried to get into the hearse. On really bad days, I half hoped he'd leave me for some other witch. He was that friendly. But then I'd miss him. Maybe he was a shit familiar, but he was mine.
The truth was, witches with crap magic like me couldn't work in the witch world and humans didn't want us either. To boot, my mom had a high-profile job in the witch community. I couldn't just go be a waitress somewhere—my mother would be horrified.
My options were limited. Owning a house or spiffy car like my mom's was out of the picture. All I had was Blart and the hearse.
It was enough, except for days like today when my mom and the High priestess were all up my ass.