roll this along” gesture, but Alex didn’t elaborate. She could feel her face turning hot.
“Nightmares?” Rose finally asked.
“Um, not exactly.”
“Then wh—”
Alex shifted in discomfort. Could this be more embarrassing?
Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Ohhh!” She laughed. “That doesn’t seem so terrible.”
“I’m not getting any sleep.”
“Take a sleeping pill.”
And spend more time in the dark man’s arms? Alex shook her head, even though her nipples hardened instantly at the thought. He was a demon—ultimate evil and all that. In fact, she’d Googled him and, according to more than one website, not only was he a demon, he was an upper echelon demon—some kind of big mucky-muck in Hell’s army. In the few sources she’d found, every other demon had a clearly delineated rank and position, but the only definition she’d turned up on Kasdeya was that he’d been one of God’s best guys until he’d started messing around in human affairs and been cast down. Now his job title seemed to be “The Fifth Satan.” While the website hadn’t relayed any more info than that, “The Fifth Satan” just didn’t sound very good. No, lusting after him was not cool. An unpardonable sin, for sure.
Apparently thinking that Alex’s furious head shaking had been at her pill suggestion, Rose asked, “Why not?”
“I, uhh… I don’t really like to use drugs.”
Rose gave her another funny look—Alex sure was racking them up—probably because her friend was remembering the joint they’d shared at that artist’s loft a few months ago.
“I mean pharmaceuticals,” Alex backtracked. “I don’t like to take pills or anything like that.” She smiled weakly. Lame. Really lame.
“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Rose slipped off the desk and retrieved the papers. “Well, listen. Don’t paint me with a hippie paintbrush, all right? But there’s this cool little shop I go to sometimes for Wiccans and the like.”
Alex’s brows shot up into her hairline and it was Rose’s turn to look embarrassed. “I’m dabbling, what can I say?” she mumbled. “Anyway, the owner, Melynda, carries a lot of homeopathic remedies. Maybe she can help you out.”
Alex felt hope rise for the first time in days. Yes! If a witch couldn’t help her, who could? Why hadn’t she thought of that? Hers was a supernatural problem. She should have been seeking a supernatural solution. “So you’re practicing witchcraft?” she asked Rose.
Rose stood and fussed with the papers, using the act of putting them back as an excuse to tidy Alex’s desk. She was always trying to do that, apparently not understanding that Alex actually worked better when surrounded by chaos. “Nah,” she said. “I’m more interested in the Goddess-Mother aspect. The energy in all living things and how we relate to it…you know.”
Actually, Alex didn’t know, but she was damned sure going to find out.
“But Mel’s the real deal,” Rose continued, oblivious to her friend’s coiled tension. “Spells, séances, tarot—she does ’em all.”
“Spells.” Alex uttered an artificial little laugh that earned her yet another puzzled glance. That had to be a record for strange looks in one day. “Hmph. Still, give me her address and I’ll pop over. I could really use some sleep.”
“Sure.” Rose peeled off a Post-it and scribbled down the address.
“Thanks.” Alex snatched at the little yellow piece of paper, standing up so fast that her chair flew backward and careened into the wall.
Rose’s mouth was a moue of surprise. “You’re going right now?” It was one thirty in the afternoon.
“Yeah, I thought I’d—” Alex’s head fell back into her shoulders and her eyes squeezed shut in annoyance. “Oh shit. The grant!”
Rose laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it. You really must be tired to have forgotten about our funding for the next twelve months. I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me in the first place. You hate the bureaucratic crap.”
“I do, but I was trying to be responsible.”
Rose smirked and shook her head as she slid into Alex’s chair, pulling it up to the computer. “Dumb ass,” she said affectionately.
“That’s Mr. Dumb Ass to you.” Alex leaned over and pecked her friend’s cheek. “Thanks, babe. I owe ya.”
“You always do.”
* * * *
The shop was a tiny hole-in-the-wall sandwiched between a kosher deli and a secondhand clothing store. Alex had driven past it twice before she’d finally clued in that the psychedelic lettering reading “Magik” wasn’t graffiti after all, but the actual name of the place. Why on earth hadn’t Rose jotted down that vital piece of information when she’d given her the address?
Alex circled the block several times looking for a parking spot even remotely close when, like a gift from Heaven, a big blue Buick pulled away from the curb right in front of the deli. “Providence,” she muttered, slipping her black bug into the spot.
When she got out of the car, she smoothed her denim mini-skirt and, for reasons known only to her subconscious, fastened the top two buttons of her cream blouse. She inexplicably felt like a job applicant going to her first interview; the same trembling feeling was weakening her knees. But she bolstered her resolve, flicked her shiny hair over her shoulder and marched up to the door. She needed help and this might be where she could find it. ’Nuff said.
Sound was the first sense stroked as she stepped into the dim, cluttered store and the melodious tinkle of moon chimes greeted her entrance. Smell was next. Alex shut her eyes, inhaling the delicious aroma of rare herbs, old books and rich incense. It brought to mind Kasdeya’s musky cinnamon scent and her eyes snapped open at the reminder of her reason for being here.
Her pupils had expanded enough for her to see the shadowy interior passably well. Alex made some small sound of delight, moving away from the door to run exploratory fingers over the purple crushed velvet covering the display tables, where she spied a lovely mortar and pestle in black marble shot through with veins of red. She’d always wanted a mortar and pestle, though she had no idea of what she might actually grind up with it. They’d just always looked so exotic, so ceremonial to her.
She picked up a silver Celtic cross that easily filled the span of her palm. Alex traced the intricate curves, lost in the elaborate beauty of the ancient design. When her gaze strayed to a scrying mirror hanging on the wall to her right, Kasdeya was in immediate attendance, grinning at her. Alex started so violently at the unexpected vision that the cross slipped from her hand and landed with a heavy thud on the planked floor. She gasped and hurried to pick up the pendant, searching it anxiously for damage.
“No harm done, I’m sure,” said someone with a deep feminine voice from the rear of the shop. “That thing could take a bomb blast and not be hurt.” The crystal curtain separating the retail area from the storage was pushed aside by a long, red-taloned hand.
Mesmerized,
