1: Compliments To Insults

It only takes a second for the temperature in the room to drop. My breath turns into a little puff of visible fog. The once enticing aroma of lavender and lemon balm are quickly replaced with the rich smell of dirt. It thickens the air making it hard to breath, even swallow.

“You promised.” Suddenly, the small vial of herbs I clutch is ripped from my grasp. In slow motion I watch the glass drop to the floor. I see the vial burst before my ears hear the crack as it shatters into a million pieces.

“Really Jezmin.” My hands shoot up in frustration, but before I can turn around to face her the temperature goes back to normal and the shiver that started to creep up my back dissipates.

“It’s okay. I’ll clean up the mess.” I argue with myself as I retrieve the broom. “Just keep on popping in and making demands and messes.”

“Not talking to yourself again are you?”

Frantically, my hands grope my chest as if to catch my heart before it leaps into my throat. “Caleb. When...what-”

“You didn’t hear me come in? That gawd awful bell is still ringing in my ears.” His index finger pokes into his ear which is hidden behind a tuft of dark hair. When his deep brown eyes meet my green ones he gives me that side smile that I always adored.

I make my way behind the counter creating a barrier between us, representing our off-again relationship. “What brings you here?” I aimlessly fuss with the collar of my shirt.

“I think you know why I’m here.”

My heart picks up its pace. It hammers against my ribcage and I’m sure he can hear it. Werewolves are like dogs…or is it babies, they can sense your fear.

“Who was it Hazel?” He says in a low voice that at one point had had my heart racing for an entirely different reason.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” I say trying to gather my composure. My outside self is calm, but my inside self is a quivering mess.

“You’re an awful liar.” He teases. The predator is starting to play cat and mouse.

“I didn’t realize this conversation was about pointing out each other's faults, because you have a long list of negative traits.” I cross my arms over my chest defiantly.

My words dig under his skin, but he does his best holding back a reply. We’ve had this conversation hundreds of times before. “Marcus is out for blood.” He barks at me. “Just tell me who the girl saw.”

I shrug my shoulders refusing to answer, but there’s no missing me flinch when he growls at me. “Why don’t you just ask her if it's that important?”

I’m pretty sure she would rat out a witch especially when it came to her saving her own hide.

“She’s not talking.” He clutches his hand into a fist but quickly shakes it out.

“I wonder why.” I mutter under my breath.

He clears his throat, the sound sets me on edge. “A friend of hers told us she came here for a reading and obviously it was implied that she had a choice, but we all know no one refuses Marcus.”

I know what he really wants to say. No one refuses the alpha.

“Who was it? Monty or Gretchen?” He asks blaming the other two, because I wouldn’t be so stupid to step on anyone’s paws.

My nervousness quickly is replaced with annoyance. “And I’m just supposed to throw one of them under the bus. One of my own under the bus to please a filthy werewolf.”

We both stare at each other. Eyes wide open in shock. Caleb and I were close, but after Marcus became alpha, Caleb’s loyalties were pulled in one direction. And my insults to his alpha, his pack leader could be grounds for punishment.

Thankfully, that deadly gleam in his eyes fades. “You’ve always been good at getting yourself into troublesome situations.”

“What can I say I like to dance with danger.” I joke.

“That’s considered being reckless.” He says in a flat annoyed tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with recklessness. Since vampires and werewolves try to dictate every single minute of everyone’s lives it’s actually quite easy. But this particular recklessness is out of your jurisdiction. You’ll just have to tell Marcus to come down here himself to put the fear into Monty....or Gretchen.” I quickly add, but I know I slipped up. Shit.

“Monty, huh?” He smiles at his detective skills. His lame detective skills. “She seems like the type.” He takes a couple steps back retreating to the door.

I take off at a run rounding the counter and grab a hold of his large muscly arm. It’s incredibly warm under my touch, but my grip doesn’t falter. “You have to promise me that Marcus will not do anything to her.” I shake his arm aggressively, but he barely moves and I’m the one with my head flopping back and forth from the gesture. “Promise me.”

“And what do I get in return for this promise? She’s interfering in werewolf business. You of all people know that’s a no-no.” He shakes his finger in my face as if I’m some child that could be scolded, I slap it away. The heat from his body attacks my chilled one as he leans down getting almost eye level with me. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming with the information and you did insult me along the way.”

“And since when haven’t I insulted you? It would be an insult not to insult you.” By the look on his face I know he’s not buying it. It’s the truth though. Our love hate relationship constantly swapping from hot to cold. Compliments to insults. “A favor for a favor. If you ever need something, cash it in.” I enunciate the word need, which is not to be mistaken for want.

A sneeze starts to tickle at my nose and burns my eyes. I try to hold it in, but a feeble achoo escapes my tense lips right into his chest. “Sorry. Dog allergies.” I sniffle.

Another growl rises from his chest up his throat. “Deal.” He breaks away from me, opening up the front door. The annoying bell rings loudly throughout the shop. “And promise me you’ll stop with the dog jokes.” There’s another flash of that sly smile.

“Is that your favor? A promise for a promise?”

“Not the slightest. Not calling a werewolf filthy or comparing them to pets is just common sense.”

“But I thought we said I was reckless…” I tease and instead of going away, he comes back, taking a large step back into the shop.

“Fair enough.” I quickly add giving him a little shove out. “Good night.” I wiggle my fingers at him while I shut the door. Once the lock clicks he finally starts to walk away.

I clean up the shattered glass and go through the tedious closing procedures. More than an hour later I’m finally able to lock up. I double check, triple check the front door before I leave. The bright neon ‘psychic’ sign and open palm with the words ‘palm reading’ light up the sidewalk.

The three blocks to my apartment seems long on my sore feet. Even though I can make this walk in my sleep my tired mind makes concentrating super hard. And it's only Tuesday.

The streets are bustling with demizens who quietly blend in with loud drunk humans. A group of werewolves circle each other ready to fight down an alley. Tipsy human girls stumble on their too high high heels, giggling at their own stupidity while vampires stalk their every move waiting for their meal to get home or pass out.

Both pathetic breeds. Both make my skin crawl, but both are higher on the social ladder than witches. Only because they demanded themselves to be there. If vampires and werewolves are anything, they’re pompous.

“Hazel, my favorite dealer.” The familiar man’s voice is slurred from too much tonic. He sits on a piece of dirty cardboard on the sidewalk, his clothes worn and stained.

I look down at Gary, the pitiful homeless human that I met on my walk home one night. He was being seduced by a female vamp, the very night he became a true believer that other people, other inhuman people occupy the Earth alongside the human race. He lifts his flask up in cheers.

I kneel down to be eye level with him, the stench that rolls off him hitches my breath. “You don’t go around telling people that do you?” I say through clenched teeth. I can just image the police arresting me for supposed drug trafficking.

He takes a heavy draw from his flask flashing me a ridiculous smile, his brown stained teeth shadowed in the moonlight. I fish out a few vials from the inside of my jacket, “here.” A mixture of holy water and moon bathed rose petals with a touch of homemade dead-wood. Harmless to humans, but can have deadly consequences to vampires.

He greedily takes them. He pours one into his flask and stashes the others in his own tattered jacket pocket. Mumbling under his breath, “damned vampires.”

“Stay safe Gary.” I whisper before walking away leaving him down the darkened alleyway.

A soft little beep from my pocket notifies me of a message on my phone the exact second I cross the threshold to my apartment. It can only be one person. My boss and owner of Mystic Moon, Gretchen.

Just checking in.

And over protective mother hen.

I survived if that’s what you’re asking.

See you tomorrow.

Tomorrow. It starts all over again. Tomorrow.