Swallow the Moon (19 page)

What the hell? Eric watched it burn with unnatural speed. He dropped the folder when his fingers got singed. It floated to the ground, a sheet of black ash. The hair on the back of Eric's neck and arms stood on end.

"You're a one-man freak show." Eric pivoted on his heel. Fuck this. "I'm outta here."

As he walked to his Explorer, he brought the stone out of his pocket. The small heart-shaped stone was red with a silver sheen.

Maybe he was wrong about magic.

~^~

As soon as he got out of his SUV, June could tell from the set to Eric's mouth and the fury in his eyes that the meeting with Van Man Go did not go well.

"I've got a lot to tell you." He hugged her, then greeted the dogs dancing at his feet. Tasha jumped up to lick his face, showing her fangs in a doggy smile. Eric didn't flinch, he just rubbed her ears.

"What happened?" While June fixed sandwiches, he told her about the argument with Van Man Go.

"I had one corner of the folder, Van had the other." Eric was talking with his hands. "Van spat on the folder. It all went up in flames.

"None of this shit makes sense." Eric made a sweeping gesture. "What the hell
is
he?"

"I don't know."

"I found this in my pocket." Eric's expression softened, he reached into his jacket pocket. He opened his hand, the red stone heart sat in his palm.

"You put it there, didn't you?" Eric murmured, his voice deep and coaxing, the look in his eyes made her blush. He placed his hands around her waist and pulled her gently against him. "Girl, I owe you my life and maybe my soul. How the hell do I repay that?"

June laid her face against his chest. He was warm, solid and strong, supporting her for a long moment before he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"So what are we working on tonight?"

"I found a recipe for lip balm."

"No kidding?" He tipped her head back to give her a quick kiss. "They don't feel chapped to me."

The second kiss was longer; June melted against him. But as soon as she did, she felt a chill settle on her feet and slither up her calves. June knew she had to stop or battle Cora – and she wasn't sure who would win. Reluctantly she broke the kiss.

"Do you hear music?" Eric's voice was low-pitched and seductive. He kept her close, his mouth an inch from hers.

"No." June leaned back a little, listening.

"It's Cora's music." His hands trailed up and down her arms. "She haunts my dreams – her and that damn music." His fingers tightened, bringing her close, he kissed her again, harder.

"Is Cora making you do this?" June was breathless when they broke the kiss. The cold was up to her knees. Her blood was running hot with lust and cold with fear. Fear was winning, though not by much.

"No," Eric murmured. "But she's trying to take advantage of it."

"Come on." She grabbed his hand. They walked out to the garage where she presented him with the materials for the evening's work.

He gave her a smoldering look before he released her hand.

"Okay, what have we got?"

"Beeswax, almond oil and beet juice." June grinned at his raised eyebrows.

"It sure sounds kinky."

"It's just lip balm." June laughed, giving him a light swat on the arm.

"How mundane." Eric started setting up the equipment.

~^~

"Know thy enemy." June settled in the lotus position on the big pillow in the center of the white pentagram. "Blessed Goddess, show me my enemies. Let me better understand them." She dropped pinches of herbs in the brazier. The smoke swirled, she breathed it deeply, letting her mind drift.

Van Man Go – the airbrushed sign was on the big window of a decaying gas station with two open bays. A compressor chugged in the background – old rock music played loudly on blown speakers. The sound of a man cursing could be heard above the noise.

The black-haired woman stepped out of the sleek red Stingray onto short kitten heels. She wore a red silk shirt that matched the car and black Capri length pants that showed off curvaceous calves. Her dark curly hair was streaked with white, her make-up was natural and the only skin she showed were those to-die-for calves.

She walked into the shop where a chubby young man was losing his battle with a clogged airbrush. The tank of a motorcycle taped and half painted with stylized flames sat on a crude table beside him. His forearms were tattooed with crude runes and symbols, his unruly hair kept out of his eyes with a stained bandana.

She stamped a dainty foot, shooting a dark look at the stereo. It and the compressor died.

For a moment, the young man looked blankly at the stereo.

"Hello?" Her voice was low, but it carried perfectly in the sudden silence.

He looked at her, swiping the sweat from his face.

"What can I do for you?" He took in her clothes, then his gaze flicked to her car. "Ma'am?"

"Call me Clare." She smiled as she crossed the garage. "I hear that you are a fair hand at custom painting."

"I'm the best."

"Really?" Clare looked around, her dark eyes quite piercing. She indicated the second hand equipment and the small supply of paint.

"I've been doing this since I was sixteen."

"Five years?"

He blushed, then briskly brushed the tape fragments from his hand. When he stood up, it was with all his dignity in place. Clare watched him with avid eyes.

"Everyone has to start out someplace."

Clare moved closer, her heels clicking on the garage floor. She held out her hand for him to shake. He hesitated, brushing his hand against his stained jeans before clasping flesh with her. The flush on his cheeks deepened and spread, as the hair on his body rose in gooseflesh. She did not release him; instead she gathered him closer, as if they were on a date.

"Tell me about your plans." Clare gestured as she walked him to the office.

"I've only been here a couple months," he confessed. "I've had ten jobs already."

"Have they paid well?" Clare asked with a knowing smile.

"Two paid me," he said.

"The others?"

"They're making payments." He opened the office door for her awkwardly. She didn't let go of his hand but slithered past him without quite brushing against him.

"Hmm." Clare studied the office. It had been painted in raw red and black; a stylized Satan portrait dominated the largest wall. There was a stained mattress on the floor, with tangled sheets right under the portrait. "What a naughty boy you are."

He mumbled something, his cheeks stained red.

"What do you want most in the world, William?"

"Call me Van." The young man shivered in the heat of her gaze. Her hand in his was hot and the heat radiated from her like a fever. "Paying customers."

"Van Man Go," Clare said softly. "What would you sell your soul for?" Her dark eyes bored into his soul until he confessed.

"I want to be the greatest airbrush artist in the world."

"Sorry." She pouted. "Somebody already made that deal."

"Customers who always pay and equipment that never breaks," he said.

"Now that we can work with – and get you some fringe benefits besides."

He glanced at the portrait of Satan, shuddering as the too-handsome face winked at him.

"I'm so fucked."

"Afterwards," Clare promised. "Let's make the deal first."

June opened her eyes. So, that was what happened to him. The artist had been a young man who needed a break – a break provided to him by a minion of the Evil One.

Now for Cora Cobra – she needed to know more about the stripper. She fed more herbs into the brazier, a wreath of smoke coiled snake-like, wrapping around her head. June let herself drift again.

Cora slammed the door shut behind her. Keyed up on speed, she breathed in the night air. This was a good night for a fast ride. She wrapped her snake around her waist and zipped up her leather jacket so Butterscotch would stay put.

"Hey, Cora," a deep voice called out behind her. "Where you going, sugar?"

Ugh, some John thought he could buy a quickie; not happening tonight. There was a party on the Beach that she didn't want to miss. Cora didn't even turn her head.

"I'm busy," she snapped as she threw a leg over her bike. The bike started right up, purring as she settled into the seat. Butterscotch circled around and went up her back, warm and leathery.

She took it easy on the Cleveland streets until she hit the shore-way. Cora gave the bike more gas, loving the swift response as the speedometer climbed. A bug smacked against her shoulder, stinging through the leather. A small hail of them followed.

Cora downshifted once more, cranking her speed down as she pulled around a couple of semi-trucks. She cut through traffic – weaving in and out just to feel the power under her control. Butterscotch stuck her nose out of the jacket, tasting the wind.

"Shit," Cora grumbled, slowing down so she could stuff the snake back into her jacket.

Another hail of bugs stung her face and hand. The snake jerked and tightened around her ribs and shoulder. Cora squirmed, unable to get a complete breath.

"Damn it, let go." She was forced to slow down while seven feet of pissed off python wrapped itself around her shoulder then as more bugs smacked into them, around her neck.

She couldn't breathe.

She had to stop. She was forced to let go of the snake to use the clutch. The python circled her neck; now two loops shut off her air. Cora was losing it. She grabbed the snake's head with both hands, twisting, as the bike rolled down the edge of the freeway. If she could break its neck, she could get free.

There was an impact, the bike bounced in and out of a pot hole. Cora tried to use her legs to keep upright. She tumbled to the ground. Her shoulder broke, her head hit the pavement, her hand went limp as the injured python kept squeezing.

June opened her eyes with a gasp. Her throat was raw, her vision blurred. She could feel Cora's fury as she died, betrayed by a snake, just when she thought she had fame in her grasp – it was all taken from her.

No wonder Cora was such an angry spirit!

June slowly relaxed her body, then stretched. So now she knew her enemies' secrets. How could she use this to help Eric and herself?

~^~

Once he had his morning coffee, Eric walked down to the beach where he ran a couple miles out and back. The cold morning air revived him. Then he went up the steps to the library where he fired up his net-book, his lifeline to reality in this surreal town. He checked his email; nothing from the lab yet, just the usual mix of jokes and spam. Good, he couldn't afford to miss his court date.

A quick check of his bank balance brought him a plan of action. He could hang out for a while. It irked him that he couldn't get Cora restored. Van wanted too much money and God only knew what else.

He mulled it over as he walked down the hill to 'Iris in Winter.' He wanted the fairy for June.

Iris welcomed him warmly and talked him into sitting down for another cup of tea. She served it with some oatmeal cookies that were still warm.

"So has your fortune changed?" she asked with a coy side-long glance.

"Things are looking up."

"You've made up with your girl?" She gestured to the statue.

"Sure have." Eric grinned.

"She gave you something."

As Eric put his hand in his jacket pocket, Cora's voice in the back of his mind sneered.

Are you falling for this crap?

 He closed his hand on the stone, felt her presence fade.

"Can you tell me something about it?"

"If you like." Iris set her cup down. "Can I see it?"

Eric pulled out his hand; palm up, he opened his fingers. The silver sheen of the heart-shaped stone glimmered in the light.

"Hold it just like that." Iris cupped her hands under his for a moment, then gave him a flirtatious smile. "It's red hematite, a protection against evil. This stone's power has been
greatly
enhanced."

"What does that mean?"

"It was exposed to very powerful male and female energy."

"So?"

"The male energy is yours. The female energy is hers. To get this much energy, you both had to be touching it." Her lashes flickered. "At a very intimate moment."