Fire Burn And Cauldron Bubble, A Paranormal Romance (Jolie Wilkins)

  “Well, I’m here for the same reason anyone else is.”

  I lifted my gaze and watched him lean back in the chair. He regarded me with amusement—raised eyebrows and a slight smirk pulling at his full lips.

  I shook my head. “You aren’t interested in a card reading, and I couldn’t tell you anything … substantial in our last meeting …”

  His throaty chuckle interrupted me. “You aren’t much of a businesswoman, Jolie; it sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me and my cold, hard cash.”

  Enough was enough. I’m not the type of person to beat around the bush, and he owed me an explanation. “So are you here to get a date with Christa?” I forced my gaze to hold his. He seemed taken aback, cocking his head while his shoulders bounced with surprise.

  “Lovely though you both are, I’m afraid my visit leans more toward business than pleasure.”

  “I don’t understand.” I hoped my cheeks weren’t as red as I imagined them. I guess I deserved it for being so bold.

  He leaned forward, and I pulled back. “All in good time. Now, why don’t you try to read me again?”

  I motioned for his hands—sometimes touching the person in question helps generate my visions. As it had last time, his touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I had to fight not to lose my composure. There was something odd about this man.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled, trying to focus while millions of bees warred with each other in my stomach. After driving my thoughts from all the questions I had regarding Rand, I was more comfortable.

  At first nothing came.

  I opened my eyes to find Rand staring at me. Just as I closed them again, a vision came—one that was piecemeal and none too clear.

  “A man,” I said, and my voice sounded like a foghorn in the quiet room. “He has dark hair and blue eyes, and there’s something different about him. I can’t quite pinpoint it … it seems he’s hired you for something …”

  My voice started to trail as the vision grew blurry. I tried to weave through the images, but they were too inconsistent. Once I got a hold of one, it wafted out of my grasp, and another indistinct one took its place.

  “Go on,” Rand prodded.

  The vision was gone at this point, but I was still receiving emotional feedback. Sometimes I’ll just get a vision and other times a vision with feelings. “The job’s dangerous. I don’t think you should take it.”

  And just like that, the feeling disappeared. I knew it was all I was going to get and I was frustrated, as it hadn’t been my best work. Most of the time my feelings and visions are much clearer, but these were more like fragments—almost like short dream vignettes you can’t interpret.

  I let go of Rand’s hands, and my own felt cold. I put them in my lap, hoping to warm them up again, but somehow my warmth didn’t quite compare to his.

  Rand seemed to be weighing what I’d told him—he strummed his fingers against his chin and chewed on his lip. “Can you tell me more about this man?”

  “I couldn’t see him in comparison to anyone else, so as far as height goes, I don’t know. Dark hair and blue eyes, the hair was a little bit longish, maybe not a stylish haircut. He’s white with no facial hair. That’s about all I could see. He had something otherworldly about him. Maybe he was a psychic? I’m not sure.”

  “Dark hair and blue eyes you say?”

  “Yes. He’s a handsome man. I feel as if he’s very old though he looked young. Maybe in his early thirties.” I shrugged. “Sometimes my visions don’t make much sense.” Hey, I was just the middleman. It was up to him to interpret the message.

  “You like the tall, dark, and handsome types then?”

  Taken aback, I didn’t know how to respond. “He had a nice face.”

  “You aren’t receiving anything else?”

  I shook my head. “I’m afraid not.”

  He stood. “Very good. I’m content with our meeting today. Do you have me scheduled for next week?”

  I nodded and stood. The silence in the room pounded against me, and I fought to find something to say, but Rand beat me to it.

  “Jolie, you need to have more confidence.”

  The closeness of the comment irritated me—who was this man who thought he could waltz into my shop and tell me I needed more confidence? Granted, he had a point, but damn it all if I were to tell him that!

  Now, I was even more embarrassed, and I’m sure my face was the color of a bad sunburn. “I don’t think you’re here to discuss me.”

  “As a matter of fact, that’s precisely the reason I’m …”

  Rand didn’t get a chance to finish when Christa came bounding through the door.

  Christa hasn’t quite grasped the whole customer service thing.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but there was a car accident right outside the shop! This one car totally just plowed into the other one. I think everyone’s alright, but how crazy is that?”

  My attention found Rand’s as Christa continued to describe the accident in minute detail. I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been about to say. It had sounded like he was here to discuss me … something that settled in my stomach like a big rock.

  When Christa finished her accident report, Rand made his way to the door. I was on the verge of demanding he finish what he’d been about to say, but I couldn’t summon the nerve.

  “Cheers,” he said and walked out.

  TWO

  “Well, how many people did we have this time last month?” I asked Christa while she studied the figures in the books.

  The sun was just starting its descent in the sky and threw itself full force into our windows. I lifted my hand and covered my eyes as a stream of annoyance snaked within me. I’d been thinking about putting some curtains up for a while and cursed my procrastination. A shadow momentarily interrupted the intensity of the glare and upon thinking it might be Rand, my heart flopped around like a fish on the end of a pole. The shadow moved on, and the sun shone through the window again, as if doubly intent on blinding us. My heart stopped palpitating, and I turned to Christa who watched me with quirked brow.

  “Double what we’ve had this month.”

  This was bad.

  I sank into the chair behind the desk, fatigue welling within me. Another shadow passed before the window, but I refused to pay attention to it, lest Christa take notice of the anticipation in my eyes. “Maybe we need to do a better job marketing ourselves,” I said, hoping it was as simple as that.

  “It’s never been an issue before,” she answered, meeting my worried gaze. “Jules, if you can’t pay me this month, that’s cool. I can ask my dad to carry me.”

  I smiled, resisting the urge to hug her. Christa and I had grown up together, and she’d moved with me from the outpost of civilization otherwise known as Spokane, Washington, to the bright lights of Los Angeles. She was the closest thing I had to a sister.

  “Thanks, Christa, but I’ll pay you.”

  Closing the book, she stood and yawned, stretching her arms above her head. The sun’s rays traveled across her, setting her brownish-red hair aflame. “Well, I’m going across the street to Starbucks. Do you want anything?”

  I shook my head. “Rand should be here soon.”

  The thought of Rand’s impending visit weighed upon me like a mound of bricks, and I couldn’t stop thinking about his strange words from our last meeting. Had he come to discuss me? And if so, what did that mean? I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out.

  I like to keep my personal life … personal.

  “Ah, that’s right; the hottie is scheduled for today. I don’t know why you act so disinterested. It’s obvious he’s got his eyes on you,” she said with a knowing smile.

  “Guys like him don’t date girls like me.” Someone with Rand’s looks could be and would be interested in someone equally fetching, rather than girl-next-door Jolie.

  Christa rested a consoling hand on my shoulder. “God, you need to stop thinking like that. It’s obvio
us he’s okay with the paranormal world, and he’s gorgeous, so that should be your cue.”

  I didn’t want to continue this conversation. “We’ll see.”

  “Blah, coffee’s calling.”

  And, with that, she walked out the door.

  My thoughts returned to Rand, and if they’d been tangible, I would’ve locked them away and fed the key to a lion. That said, I still couldn’t censor the snippets of bliss that visited me when I considered that maybe Rand did have something for me. Not wanting to think about it, I flipped open the accounting ledger and forced my attention to the numbers that already blurred before my eyes.

  I didn’t get much time to continue reviewing the financials; the buzz of the door heralded Rand’s arrival. Thinking the day had escaped me, I glanced at the cuckoo clock and noted it was 4:00 p.m. on the dot. No sooner did I raise my eyes than the damned clock went off, and the Tyrolean dancers jigged just above Rand’s head.

  A smile touched the corners of his mouth as he turned and regarded them. He wore dark grey this time—a charcoal long-sleeved shirt and darker pants. My gaze traveled down the length of him and scattered once I reached the bottom of his untucked shirt. I had no business looking there of all places.

  “Jolie, pleasure to see you,” he said in his rich British accent.

  His thighs strained against the material of his pants as he strode toward me. He didn’t need to turn around for me to know his backside would be just as tight and muscular as his front. I forced my attention to his face as his smile widened, setting off his dimples.

  “How are you, Rand?” My voice shook. I was annoyed with myself; Rand’s muscular body and dimples were none of my concern.

  “Well, thanks.”

  I stood up quickly, as if I’d been sitting on a thorn. Then my feet decided to go immobile, and I just stood in front of my desk like a moron. When my brain got with the program, I started toward the reading room, Rand behind me. His gait was long and slow as he assumed his seat, swiveling around to watch me close the door behind us.

  “I hope you’ll give me as good a reading as you did last time.” The tone of his voice was so rich, I felt like I could gain weight just by listening to him.

  I plunked myself into the seat across from him and motioned for his hands. “Don’t get your hopes up. I never know when I’m going to see anything. My visions are very unreliable.”

  He grasped my hands, and the electric current coursed through me. I resisted the urge to jump and wondered if I’d ever get used to this—not that it mattered since this was Rand’s last scheduled visit.

  “I believe you’re more powerful than you think you are.” His voice was soft but could’ve commanded a fleet of ships.

  I said nothing but clamped my eyes shut, enjoying the void of blackness. I waited for a vision. Nothing came. I sighed in frustration and opened them again, hoping my naked eye might catch something. All it caught was Rand smiling back at me, and the smile was so disarming, feelings of angst slithered within me. Almost reflexively, I shut my eyes again. I waited. And waited.

  “I don’t think anything’s coming today,” I said with finality and opened my eyes, dropping his hands. My own hands hung like dead weights, no longer charged with Rand’s electric touch. “Are you sure you don’t want a card reading—they can be insightful.”

  He shook his head. “I’m in no hurry. Let’s just sit and talk a while. Maybe something will come.”

  All I could think about was separating myself from his unsettling company, and he wanted to talk? Well, I guess it was easier than conjuring up a recalcitrant vision. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

  He paused. “Can you see spirits?”

  That was easy enough. “As a matter-of-fact, I saw my first ghost last week—just before I met you.”

  He nodded, and I noticed the absence of surprise in his gaze, something I would’ve expected to see. I inwardly shrugged—maybe seeing a ghost wasn’t such a big deal. C’est la vie, I guess.

  “I know—I sent him to you.”

  I hadn’t expected that, and my mouth dropped open accordingly. Now, it may seem strange that I, a psychic, would be so distrusting, but I don’t think of myself as anything other than a girl from Spokane who gets visions now and then. Okay, and I can also see auras. But I’m not a spiritual person. I don’t do cleansing rituals before or after card readings, I don’t hang out with other psychics or meditate, and I definitely don’t listen to new age music. My shop looks the part for my customers’ benefit—they seem to like the whole mystical thing. I, myself, couldn’t care less about it.

  “You sent him to me?” I asked, my voice breaking with disbelief. “What do you mean—you sent him to me?”

  Rand shrugged as if this were the most commonplace conversation imaginable. He ran a lethargic hand through his hair before returning said hand to his thigh. The distance from his thumb to his pinkie nearly spanned the width of his thigh, and I had to force my attention away. It wouldn’t be a difficult feat to kill someone with such … capable hands.

  “Yes, he’s a client of sorts. I wanted to see the extent of your abilities, so I sent him to test you.”

  I’d imagined Rand was a little bit off as most guys aren’t interested in the occult. Those who are, in my experience, don’t have Rand’s gifts in the looks department. Now, I realized my wariness had been spot on. Always trust your intuition as it won’t steer you wrong.

  So Rand thought he had clients that were ghosts. … “A client?” I repeated, not knowing what else to say.

  “Yes. He’s a friend of a friend to whom I owe a favor. That’s a long story, though, and one we can discuss some other time. I sent him to you to see if you could see him, and it seems you could and did.”

  I just smiled, thinking I was in the wrong line of work. It must’ve been a good joke for God or whoever to give me the gift of second sight coupled with skepticism.

  “After that little test, I decided to come and investigate myself. Upon learning you could see my life force, my aura as you call it, I was convinced your powers are far greater than you suppose. It’s very rare that someone can see the life force of others.”

  I wanted to call his bluff, but I couldn’t help putting the pieces together: the first time I’d ever seen a ghost just happened to be days before I’d met Rand. That, and Rand’s aura was different from any other I’d ever seen. Was it possible there was more to this story?

  “How do you know all this?” I asked in a small voice, afraid of the answer.

  “I’m a warlock.”

  I didn’t say anything for a moment while I replayed the response in my mind.

  A warlock?

  Frozen in my chair, I wasn’t able to form a complete thought and was grateful my body instinctively forced itself to breathe.

  “You aren’t saying anything,” he observed.

  I nodded dumbly, and then like a dysfunctional dam, thoughts poured through my head until I was so overcome, I still couldn’t form a thought.

  “I don’t know what to say.” How simple. How true.

  “A strange reaction in and of itself. Most people might laugh or tell me to leave.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded me with an incredibly sexy smile. He looked normal. Scratch that, he looked far better than normal … hot as hell might be a better description. No one would ever know he’d lost all control of his mental faculties.

  Then it occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to disagree with or mock him—maybe that might incite him? You never know where you stand with crazy people, so it’s best to indulge them—then I had a better chance of escaping. And damn it all, Christa was still at Starbucks, so if I happened to get murdered, she wouldn’t be around to alert the authorities.

  Ergh—bad story getting worse. I glanced at the door, trying to figure out how many strides it would take to reach it. My legs weren’t long, so I figured maybe five. Now, the real question—could I make it in five strides without Rand catching me?
>
  I pulled my attention back to the person in question and swallowed the egg-sized lump in my throat. I fought to find my voice. “When you say a warlock, you mean as in a male witch?”

  He nodded with authority. “Yes.”

  I pondered it for a moment. A ghost, a warlock … then it dawned on me and my hollow laugh ricocheted through me like a stray bullet. “Okay, you got me.” He threw me a confused frown, and I thought he did a good job playing his part. “Was it Christa who hired you? Well done, I fell for it. Very funny.”

  He leaned forward. “This isn’t …” he started.

  Although I wasn’t convinced it was a joke, I decided to go with it. A joke allowed my psyche relief. “The joke is on me. And Christa smartly pretended to get coffee; she could never keep a straight face. She’d have blown the game a while ago.”

  “You don’t believe me?” He wore a mask of injury, as if I’d seriously offended him.

  “Give it up, Rand, if that’s even your name. Game’s up.” I stood, trying to figure out how they’d done the ghost. That had looked pretty damn real.

  “This isn’t a bloody game,” he snapped. “No one hired me. I came here because I need your help.”

  This was becoming tedious. I sidestepped the chair I’d been occupying and approached the door. Settling my hand on the doorknob, I wondered if I should say anything more. Reaching the conclusion that there wasn’t anything more to say, I opened the door and turned to him. “You can leave now.”

  As soon as the words graced my lips, the doorknob yanked itself from my grasp, and the door slammed shut. I shrieked and jumped back. Okay, that was definitely not from the wind! My heart pounded as if I’d just ran up a flight of stairs. I slowly turned to face Rand. He stood. At the same time, the chair I’d been occupying pulled itself out from underneath the table. My gaze shifted from the phantom chair to Rand’s seriously irritated countenance.

  “You of all people shouldn’t be so disbelieving. One who sees the future and spirits should have an open mind.”