Home > Sin & Chocolate (Demigod of San Francisco #1)(14)

Sin & Chocolate (Demigod of San Francisco #1)(14)
Author: K.F. Breene

“If he doesn’t pay up, I’ll call him a bitch! And yeah, he’s fourteen. Why do you think he bought fake weed? He doesn’t know any better.”

“Good point. But… Just take the job at his family’s vet clinic.”

“Lexi, I love you, but you are shit at making decisions—”

“You’ve got to stop swearing.”

“—and money doesn’t grow on trees…” Her voice trailed away as a hoarse, hacking cough sounded in the background. “Shit. Oh shit. That’s blood.”

“What?” I clutched the phone so tightly it dug into my palm and fingers. The woman down the way took a step in my direction, confusion on her face.

“He just coughed up blood. He just coughed up blood! What do I do?”

Adrenaline flooded my body. “Fuck it. Get that money from Denny. I’ve got a bat at home. If he gives you trouble, tell him I’ll personally bash his face in. Please don’t hold this horrible parenting against me.”

“What about Mordie?”

“I’ll be right home. I’ll watch him.” I was running through the store before I knew it, headed straight for the office. Once there, I burst in, out of breath.

Jason Bertram’s shiny bald head jerked toward me. His annoyance at having to momentarily lift his eyes off a clearly riveting game of solitaire was evident. As the store team lead, he sure was busy. Of course, it wouldn’t help my case to point that out. I needed him on my side.

“Sorry to barge in, Mr. Bertram.” I put my hand on the doorframe to show I wasn’t technically invading his space. It was the little things. “But I have a family emergency. I need to take lunch early.”

A cloud settled over his round face, something fairly common when he was talking to me. He’d only hired me because the labor force willing to work in the dual-society zone was small. “Your lunch isn’t for”—he checked his watch—“another three hours.”

“Two hours. I came in at nine. But I don’t really have a choice. My ward is sick. He needs someone to watch him while my other ward goes and gets his medicine.”

His brown eyes were cold and flat. “Your lunch is in two hours. I suggest you have your ward wait until then—”

“He might not have two hours. Please, Mr. Bertram—”

“As a woman who is out of sick and vacation leave because of these types of situations—”

“I don’t get sick or vacation leave. I don’t qualify because I’m mag—”

“—I think you should really take a hard look at your life. A place of business cannot juggle its schedule around a flighty employee.”

“But Mr. Bertram, it’s only two hours—”

“End of story. You leave early, and you can hand in your resignation.” His lips pressed into a thin, colorless line.

I stared at him in shock for a moment with my mouth hanging open. All the odds-and-ends jobs I could conceivably do until I found another job rolled through my head. Followed by Mordecai’s sick, exhausted face.

I let a humorless smile contort my lips. “You miserable bastard.” I took off the nametag pinned to my shirt and thought about stabbing it into his leg. But then he could call the cops, and I didn’t need that. “You can keep your joke of a job. And for the record, I know for a fact that I have the cleanest, best managed section in this entire store. I have been nominated for employee of the month every month since I started. Guests find me attentive and courteous. In just six months, I’ve already earned a star for excellent service. A star I’ve never seen, of course.” His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red. “Yeah, I’ve been peeking at the files. I like to know when I’m doing a good job, or when I need to improve, and because no one here has ever done me the favor of filling me in, I had to self-educate. Us magics can be resourceful, which you should know, you filthy, black-hearted bastard. I hope a bird shits on your head at lunch! In fact, maybe I’ll use my ‘superpowers’ to ensure that it happens.”

He sucked in a breath, and I could barely hear the word “witch” escape his colorless lips. I was sure that if we lived in the days of witch trials, he would be one of the shortsighted, puritanical hypocrites spearheading my stoning.

I wasn’t a witch. I’d give my left arm for that kind of magic. But ignorant guys like Jason Bertram—the quintessential Chester—assumed anyone with magic was a witch, didn’t want to hear differently, and would tell anyone who’d listen that fire was the best way to rid the world of us.

Try telling that to a fire elemental. They’d laugh and laugh.

My last paycheck would be ready in twenty-four hours. That was the law in this zone, regardless of what happened here today.

When I pushed through the door of my house, I ran to my wards’ bedroom. A limp Mordecai was lying on his bed with red-tinged drool leaking out of his mouth. I knew Daisy was right. He was dying.

“Frank, how long has Daisy been gone?” I asked as I jogged back to the door, belatedly seeing a note left on the kitchen table. I wasn’t sure if she’d left immediately after talking with me, or if she’d tried to bring Mordecai around first.

“That foul-mouthed, doll-faced girl took off about fifteen minutes ago,” he answered. “She ran down the street. You know, it’s against the law to keep minors out of school. They are delinquent—”

“I got it. Now get off my lawn.” I slammed the door and hurried to the kitchen table to read the note scribbled in Daisy’s careless hand.

Out of time. I took your stash. I’ll be back with meds and change.

My stash—she meant every cent I had to my name. I kept it in a hiding place the kids knew about for just such a situation.

Back with Mordecai, I propped him up in my lap, made sure his airways were open and the steam was reaching him, and did the only thing I could.

I waited.

11

Alexis

After what felt like forever, I heard my front door crash open. A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table said I’d only been home a half-hour. That wasn’t nearly enough time for Daisy to have done all she needed to.

Footsteps stalled in the entryway before heading right, to the kitchen. Rustling, followed by a small thunk, coincided with the crashing of my heart against my ribcage. Who the hell had just entered my house?

The footsteps pounded the floor toward the bedroom, and the door flew open, swinging so hard it slammed off the wall and left an imprint.

Daisy stood in the frame, her sheet of dark hair falling around her set expression. An object I couldn’t see was wrapped in her bloodied fingers. “I lost that job opportunity.”

“What?” I croaked out.

“Turns out the bastard knew the drugs were fake. He just wanted to spend time with me. He doesn’t even have any money. So I punched him in the face, then searched his whole room.” She stopped at the bedside table and gently set down the item in her hand.

My heart surged. It was the anti-morphing serum!

“How’d you get that?” I breathed out, relief and dread taking turns running through my body.

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a wad of money. “How is he?”

“His pulse feels weak, but he’s hanging on. How did you get that?” I repeated.

“I stole it, that’s how.”

“But… Your hand…” I was having a hard time piecing this one together, and was a little concerned that whatever she’d brought home would turn out like that faulty can of mace.

With quick economy, she left the room and stepped into the bathroom down the hall. I heard a drawer roll open.

“During the shake-down, I found a stash of nude magazines in that lying bastard’s room,” she called. The drawer rolled again, and she stepped back into the hall. “In that stash was a gay one. The shock on his face when I found it said it likely wasn’t his, and whatever friend he got the stash from, some guy named Martin, has a secret. But anyway, his dad is super uptight. He would not like to find out his son has a gay porn magazine, because then he’d think his son is gay. See where I’m going with this?”

   
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