upholstered in red silk, embellished with various black spell symbols for truth, love and money. The spells tend to work better on the humans, but I'll do whatever it takes to find the perfect match for someone. Regardless of their background. Or their sometimes less than flattering view of myself.
Those truth spells work really well.
Behind my desk in the HC office are two paintings of Greek and Norse mythology. Well, humans call it mythology. The HC call them history. And a couple of clients called two of the figures in the paintings Aunty and Uncle.
We walked into my HC office. Despite the overwhelming amount of snubs I receive from the HC, I still associate myself more with them.
I don't have any human friends, unless you count the owner of the Italian restaurant down the street. I have him on my speed dial.
But our relationship is mostly limited to to-go orders. And head rubs for Al. Come to think of it, the owner spends more of his time petting Al than talking to me when we pick up our dinners.
I did have a friend once who was human. Except he died and then turned into a zombie and then he really did die. And didn't come back.
So I guess you could say all of my friends belong to the HC community. All six of them.
I sat down behind my desk. It was my mother's. It's scarred and scratched and I love it. It's one of the few things I have of hers. My mom died seven years ago. They say time heals all wounds. I don't know who the hell "they" are, but I can tell you they got it wrong. I have a hole in my heart that just won't heal. It's jagged around the edges and empty inside. And whenever I think about my mom, it aches.
How emptiness can ache I don't know, but it does. The sweetest, loving-est, most painful ache you can ever imagine. It's a part of me now. It always will be.
"I'm going to check out the rest of the office," Al said as he headed out. He's a stickler for my safety. Recently Désirée Norma-Sue's psychotic ex-fiancé managed to break into my business despite both the industrial door locks and my protection spells.
He used black magic. I hate black magic. It's just plain bad. So I appreciated Al's thoroughness. And his strong sense of smell.
The phone rang.
"Hey, Chicky." It was Morgan. She's at the top of my six HC friends list.
She's my best friend. Dead, un-dead or otherwise.
She's my UDBF. Un-Dead Best Friend.
Morgan is a vampire. Technically she's my UDBFF, but Morgan is immortal and I'm mortal so to be truly technical we can't be BFFs.
Morgan is also Morgana Le Fay, previous witch and seductress of ancient lore, current vampire, amazing friend and also my aunt. She's my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great–Okay, let's just assume there were thirty plus or minus greats here–aunt. Morgan also informed me she'd kick my ass if I called her my great, great, great, great, great–you get the picture– aunt ever again.
I haven't. And frankly that had more to do with trying to say all those greats than Morgan's threat. She's my UDBF. She'd never kick my ass.
"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
Those truth spells work really well.
Behind my desk in the HC office are two paintings of Greek and Norse mythology. Well, humans call it mythology. The HC call them history. And a couple of clients called two of the figures in the paintings Aunty and Uncle.
We walked into my HC office. Despite the overwhelming amount of snubs I receive from the HC, I still associate myself more with them.
I don't have any human friends, unless you count the owner of the Italian restaurant down the street. I have him on my speed dial.
But our relationship is mostly limited to to-go orders. And head rubs for Al. Come to think of it, the owner spends more of his time petting Al than talking to me when we pick up our dinners.
I did have a friend once who was human. Except he died and then turned into a zombie and then he really did die. And didn't come back.
So I guess you could say all of my friends belong to the HC community. All six of them.
I sat down behind my desk. It was my mother's. It's scarred and scratched and I love it. It's one of the few things I have of hers. My mom died seven years ago. They say time heals all wounds. I don't know who the hell "they" are, but I can tell you they got it wrong. I have a hole in my heart that just won't heal. It's jagged around the edges and empty inside. And whenever I think about my mom, it aches.
How emptiness can ache I don't know, but it does. The sweetest, loving-est, most painful ache you can ever imagine. It's a part of me now. It always will be.
"I'm going to check out the rest of the office," Al said as he headed out. He's a stickler for my safety. Recently Désirée Norma-Sue's psychotic ex-fiancé managed to break into my business despite both the industrial door locks and my protection spells.
He used black magic. I hate black magic. It's just plain bad. So I appreciated Al's thoroughness. And his strong sense of smell.
The phone rang.
"Hey, Chicky." It was Morgan. She's at the top of my six HC friends list.
She's my best friend. Dead, un-dead or otherwise.
She's my UDBF. Un-Dead Best Friend.
Morgan is a vampire. Technically she's my UDBFF, but Morgan is immortal and I'm mortal so to be truly technical we can't be BFFs.
Morgan is also Morgana Le Fay, previous witch and seductress of ancient lore, current vampire, amazing friend and also my aunt. She's my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great–Okay, let's just assume there were thirty plus or minus greats here–aunt. Morgan also informed me she'd kick my ass if I called her my great, great, great, great, great–you get the picture– aunt ever again.
I haven't. And frankly that had more to do with trying to say all those greats than Morgan's threat. She's my UDBF. She'd never kick my ass.
"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
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