kate storm 04 - witches dont back down (3 page)

"Hey, Morgan." I glanced at my wall clock. "Everything all right?"

It was just after eleven in the morning. Morgan's not a day vampire. But then again, how many of them truly are? Plus, she hates UVBGone. She only uses it on special occasions.

"Fine. Just wondering what your plans are for Friday night?"

I clenched my teeth and told myself to be strong.

"No, Morgan. I'm not going to do it."

"You don't even know what
it
is."

"If it has anything to do with Karaoke and beer, I'm out."

I used to think I had certain standards and that I would maintain those standards even under the influence of several bottles of beer. I was wrong.

"You'll love this bar. I promise."

I was now paying for my mistake. To the tune of one video that now had over a million hits. I didn't even know I knew all the words to "We Are Family." Although some words were not as clear as others. After all, both Morgan and I had consumed
a lot
of beer that night.

"No."

"Please. They don't allow anyone to record the karaoke at this bar."

"NO."

"You know, you used to be more adventuresome."

"Yes, well, all of the comments about
you
were very flattering." Morgan's a size two with gorgeous red curls, perfect ivory skin and vivid green eyes. She's got Sigourney Weaver and everyone else beat hands down.

I'm a chubby, cursed, half-bred witch with dirty brown curls that have a mind all of their own. Like Medusa's snakes. But my curls are simply curls and they refuse to respond to hair products or my magic. They can't even turn anyone to stone.

We might be best friends, but put us together on a stage, side by side, singing at the top of our lungs and I'm the one who's going to suffer by comparison.

People–both human and non–can be very hurtful with their comments.

I'd even added a booty shake at the end.

Apparently, my booty in motion looks like jello in a bowl being driven over the roughest road imaginable. One extremely rude commenter claimed there were lumps in my jello.

Ash has assured me he likes my jello, lumps and all.

I've been going with Ash's opinion and I've locked myself out of the video feed.

Morgan also found out the rude commenter's address and we threw tomatoes at his house and let the air out of his ugly pickup one night.

Like I said, she's my UDBF.

With an unfortunate addiction to Karaoke.

"You have to ignore the haters, Kate. You can't let them get to you."

I believe in love. Not hate. I've also been ostracized my entire life because of who and what I am. I've built up my walls and I can pretend that rude and mean comments don't bother me. But they do.

"Morgan, I love you. I truly do. I'd do anything for you, except karaoke." Morgan sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. "Why don't you ask Drake to go with you?"

Drake is Morgan's vampire significant other. They were lovers way back when. And I do mean way back–the early 500s. They sort of lost touch over the centuries and reconnected just recently. Isn't love grand?

"Drake doesn't like karaoke."

"What about Désirée Norma-Sue?" My secretary is about a size two as well. Tiny with elfin curves and an outrageous sense of style. Morgan and Désirée would look great together on stage.

"She and Phil are madly in love and inseparable these days."

I knew that. They were crazy about each other. They also both loved Karaoke. "And?"

"Phil almost caused a riot when we went out last weekend. They had to call the police. He's been banned from all the bars in the area."

Phil sounds like Barry White. His version of "Can't Get Enough of Your Love" has eight times as many hits as my video with Morgan. Phil is also a gargoyle and rather rotund. No one has made any comments about his jello.

Most of the comments regarding his video have to do with Al. He sang back up. I'm surrounded by karaoke fans. Luckily most people think we photo shopped the video to make Al look like he's singing.

And then Morgan started up a Twitter account for Al after the video went viral. He has over a million followers. And they all love him. Not a single hater in the group.

My Chihuahua gets more love than I do.

I'm not kidding. Honestly, on your worst day ever, just think of me.

And yet, I really do feel as if I'm rockin' it these days. Maybe I'm delusional. But then again, maybe I do rock it. Jello lumps and all.

I cackle in the face of thee haters as well.

Mwah, mwah, mwah
.

"A riot? And now he's banned?" I asked.

It's not that I thought my UDBF was lying. We live in a small town, surrounded by other small towns. I didn't think we had enough people between the three towns combined to actually create a riot.

"Well, the fire chief showed up and Phil's fan club included one plus one too many."

"We have fire codes?" I knew we had them of course. I'm a cursed witch. Not a stupid one. And rules are rules after all. I just didn't think anyone in our town of Dominion would enforce them. I thought the proprietors would be more excited about the business than the fire codes.

"Yep. Chapter four, section eight of the something something or other." Morgan huffed. "I didn't stick around to listen. They unplugged the karaoke machine."

I was surprised Morgan hadn't attacked. A good pair of fangs beats a water hose any day.

"The fire chief was posing with Phil when I left."

I stifled a sigh. Really, what was it about karaoke? I just didn't see the appeal.

"And now Phil is banned?" I had to repeat the question. It didn't make sense.

Morgan made a sort of growling sound. "Yep. The sheriff waited until after the fire chief got his autograph to tell Phil he was banned. And then he wrote him a ticket."

What? Morgan had to be making this up.

"He wrote him a ticket for what exactly?"

"Phil was charged with disturbing the peace. His fans got tickets for aiding and abetting."

I was tempted to laugh.

Now it made a weird sort of sense. There had been an article in the newspaper about a feud between the mayor and the sheriff and either a need for an increase in tickets–and the resulting revenue–or a decrease in tickets–along with a friendly social media campaign–depending upon whose side you were on. I couldn't remember the details, but it looked like Phil and his groupies had just become a point made.

"I'm not kidding, Kate." Morgan scolded me. "This is serious."

It was. I couldn't argue with her there. A friend in trouble with the law was serious business. But karaoke tickets still made me laugh.

Morgan lowered her voice to her
super confidential
tone. "I can't find anyone to go sing karaoke with me on Friday night at all."

I sighed. Heavily. "I'll think about it. I'm not promising anything, but I will think about it."

Maybe I could cast a spell to ensure the "no videotaping" policy actually worked.

UDBFs. The things we will consider doing for them.

3. A Nymph Walked In.

I was still trying to decipher the appeal of karaoke when the bell rang over the front door.

Désirée hadn't made it in yet, so I got up and hurried out of my HC office and into the waiting room. I reached it at the same time Al did.

We both stopped dead in our tracks.

She was breathtakingly gorgeous. Literally. I forgot to breathe for a moment as I stared at her.

She stood maybe five feet tall. And tiny. I'm an average height witch, but I felt like Bigfoot's cousin next to her. It wasn't just her height–or lack thereof–or her size zero waist. I'm used to being the heavy witch around both Désirée and Morgan.

But there was something else about her. An air of almost fragility. Which seemed somewhat odd. She didn't appear sickly or in ill health. In fact, she sort of radiated vibrancy and sexiness. And she wasn't injured. She strode forward on two small but perfectly healthy legs. I couldn't even see a bruise anywhere on her body at all.

Yet, at the same time, there was something about her that made me want to put my arm around her and protect her. From everything. Ex-boyfriends. Scam artists. Rain.

When my aunt had first given Al to me as a puppy, all my protective instincts had rushed to the front. He'd weighed less than a pound. An itty-bitty ball of fur. I'd carried him around for the first few months until the hitman had appeared and demanded I put him down.

I felt like that now. I wanted to pick her up and tuck her into my pocket and keep her cuddled and safe. And warm.

Definitely warm. It might be almost hot outside, but her dress was more suited to the tropics than Idaho in the fall.

Made of turquoise chiffon with spaghetti straps and a handkerchief hemline, it fluttered and twirled and swayed around her as she walked, which made it appear as if she floated in the air rather than walked on the ground.

And there wasn't a lot of material to flutter and twirl, so I was extra impressed that what little there was could create such an impact.

"Heya, Doll."

I snatched Al up, shocked and horrified and wondering what I could possibly do to pretend his deep, husky voice had come from my mouth, when I realized he was right.

I'd been so taken with her appearance of lightness and grace and sex that it hadn't sunk in yet it wasn't an effect.

She was a nymph.

From her silky white blonde curls and violet eyes, right down to her dainty little ankles.

I'd bet my wand on it.

And since when did Al call a stranger Doll? That was my name.

"Why hello." The blonde nymph tilted her head as she smiled at Al. The motion caused her soft curls to cascade over her shoulder.

"How ya doin'?"

I almost dropped Al. I'd never heard him seriously flirt with anyone but me before. A casual compliment here or there, sure. Al was a total ladies’ man. He loved women. Young, old, human, non. It didn't matter. He could be shameless at times. It was part of his charm.

But he was never serious. It was more reflex for him.

There was nothing casual or offhand about his tone of voice now.

Al was utterly smitten.

I was kind of irked.

I had my own demon lord and it would never work between Al and myself anyways, but I'd never had to share his attention or his affection.

Except with Bigfoot. But I still think that was deliberate. Al wanted to make me jealous.

I wasn't sure he even knew I was in the same room, much less holding him at the moment, he was so totally focused on the nymph.

"Hi. I'm Kate Storm." I casually shifted Al to my other side as I held out my hand. "I own Love Required. What can I do for you?"

She smiled, ignored my hand and reached out to Al instead. "You are
gorgeous
."

I felt Al's deep inhale. "I gotta say, you ain't so bad yourself, Doll."

I wanted to put my hand over his bulging brown eyes. 1) The nymph had just inhaled herself. Her waist might be tiny, but her breasts were not. And the deep inhale threatened to push them right out of her dress. 2) I was starting to move beyond irked and into irritated. With a definite smattering of jealousy. I didn't like him calling her Doll and I didn't like him looking at her.

"Oh. My. God." The nymph placed her hand over her heaving breasts. "You're Bad Ass Al, aren't you?"

What?

"Excuse me?" I was ready to toss the little nymphette right out on her hind end. My wand might be in my office, but she wasn't that big. I was pretty sure I could simply carry her out.

Al nudged my arm. "It's my Twitter handle, Doll."

Oh.

I moved back from irritated to irked. Largely due to Al calling me Doll rather than knowing what name Morgan had used to set up Al's Twitter account.

"Yeah. I'm Bad Ass Al." He puffed out his little chest and lifted his head higher.

"I love your video!" Sweet Spirits, she sounded like a Marilyn Monroe fan girl. A fan girl who sounded like Marilyn Monroe with the husky breathy voice not a fan girl
of
Marilyn Monroe. Because clearly, she was Al's biggest fan.

Excuse me. Bad Ass Al's biggest fan.

I expected her to clap her hands with joy at any moment.

"You have such an amazing voice!" She clapped her hands. I kid you not. "You should do your own videos. And your tweets are so funny!"

Hardy har
ugh
. And I thought karaoke was bad. This was infinitely worse.

A potential new client was crushing on my Chihuahua.

"Glad you like 'em, Doll." Al growled.

And my Chihuahua was crushing right back.

I knew I shouldn't get too upset. After all I was the one in a relationship. Okay, fine. I really didn't have a broom to stand on in regards to Al's personal life. But still. I didn't have to like it.

And I didn't. Not one single bit.

At the very least, I'd thought Al would choose someone more . . . furry. Definitely not a tiny, sexy nymph with curls that were clearly well-managed by
her
hair products.

"Well!" I said brightly.

And then realized I had nothing to follow it up with.

I just wanted the sexy nymph to stop gushing, and Al to stop breathing heavily in my hands.

"I'm Kate." I held out my hand again. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh." She looked at me as if she'd just noticed me.

I widened my smile, aiming for
cheerful owner of a matchmaking business who was not the least bit jealous.
Based on her reaction, I completely missed my target.

She took a small step back. "Hi. I'm Nina Georgette. I left a message." She trailed off, a mixture of uncertainty and confusion.

Dang it. I'd forgotten to hit the
pink rhinestone
.

I had two other clients coming in today and my focus had been on preparing for them.

I've never had a matchmaking emergency. Planned appointments with varying degrees of hope, skepticism and desperation were the norm.

I took in Nina's perfect and stacked body, her incredible beauty and couldn't see desperation.