Aggie rolled her eyes. “Oh, I forgot. I spread disease.”
I wanted to deny her statement, but I couldn’t come up with a truthful statement. Instead, I continued with, “I also need to look at clothes.”
She started to put the s’more ingredients away. “Why do you need more clothes? You dress nice all the time. In the same outfit, if I may add without hurting your feelings.”
“Well, I’ve decided to try to improve myself. And that means stirring the pot, so to speak.”
She paused as she kindly placed the food exactly where she’d found it. “What’s wrong with how you are now? Other than hoarding holiday stuff—”
“It’s been five years since you’ve seen me, and I don’t have much to show for it. I have a house, a job. But other than that I don’t have much else.” The boxes almost swallowed the hallway. Most of the time they looked so imposing. “I want something more. A relationship, maybe. And the only way to jump on that horse is to buy some clothes for a date.”
“With Thorn?”
“Not yet. He’s sort of not available.”
“Are you ready to ask a guy out?”
“It’s already happened.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “You mean you asked a guy out while you were at work today?”
I cringed as I remembered the encounter. Of all the men to take the plunge with, I’d asked the last person in town I’d actually want to date.
I recounted to her how, while I was pondering my next move, I spotted Quinton, the janitor for The Bends, wiping off the counters. The guy had the goth thing going for him, with his slicked-back raven-colored hair and midnight eyes. He towered over everyone in the place, and slinked around casting spells. Creepiness followed our resident necromancer like an army of brain-gobbling zombies.
And yet somehow, after I’d chanted to myself, “Starting fresh. Starting fresh,” I’d walked up to Quinton and asked him what his plans for the upcoming weekend were.
No one had ever asked him such a question before, so he stammered for a moment. “N-nothing really. Just another weekend working in my herb garden, I guess.”
Before I lost my nerve (and since I’d already jumped off the deep end) I had asked him if he wanted to go to Roger’s Place for some Italian with me. I more or less expected him to say no and end my embarrassing test-drive. To my horror, though, he replied, “An evening out sounds like fun. I’ve never been there before. But I heard their cannoli is divine.”
After asking Quinton out, I realized that it had been our longest conversation ever since I’d started working at The Bends. Most of the time, I didn’t need a drawn-out speech to talk to him about the overflowing garbage or the two pending orders for a furniture pickup at the dock. Bill had told me that during Quinton’s spare time he used herbs from his garden to stuff the recently deceased like Thanksgiving turkeys and bring them back
to life. I told myself that with all the crazy men out there I could’ve done a lot worse.
And that was how I’d managed to snag a date on Friday with a necromancer.
Aggie laughed as she picked up her purse to leave the house. “You are
not
going out with that guy. I’ll ask out the first sane man I see at the grocery store for you before I let you go out with
him
. Even my dad has more French fries in his Happy Meal than a janitor who spends his free time practicing necromancy.”
As we drove into the shopping center’s parking lot, I said, “I can’t do that to him. He’s a nice guy.”
“A nice, creepy necromancer. Do you know what those guys do? Do I need to spell out necrophilia?”
I frowned and selected a parking spot. “Not every necromancer is having a personal party with the dead bodies they conjure.”
“How do you know?”
Once we got to the store, I knew her silence meant I’d won—for now. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Aggie showed up with the local insurance guy for a lunch date. We patrolled the aisles for my cleaning items. Aggie of course balked when we passed the chips aisle.
“Why can’t I buy Cheetos?”
“You get orange dust all over everything. I thought
I
had issues. You practically carry an open bag every time I turn around.”
Agatha pursed her lips and paused long enough to grab a bag of barbecued chips. She thought I didn’t see, but I thought I’d give her until the checkout lane to give them up.
With my cleaning supplies in my basket, we waited at the only available checkout line. Aggie, ever impatient, glanced ahead to grumble about people who never remember to bring a debit card and force others to suffer
while they write checks with the calligraphic handwriting meant for signing the Declaration of Independence.
Once we reached the front, of course, we were the only ones in line, with no one behind us. Go figure.
The clerk at the register wasn’t hard to miss. With her round belly and snapping gum, she looked like a college student who’d accidentally gotten knocked up. But she smelled
different
somehow—I detected an aroma that made me think of the forest. One that invited me to run free. The sweet scent of magic. Aggie tilted her head and leaned forward. I stomped on her foot. This wasn’t the time to be rude and smell someone else’s butt to figure out what breed they were.
I had a feeling we’d just encountered a nymph. This ancient Greek protector of nature had pale skin that glistened, like morning dew dripped from her arms. I didn’t detect any glamour on her, but she smelled ethereal.
And right then, my brother Alex picked exactly the wrong time to make a purchase.
“Hey, Nat.” He casually tossed a box of condoms on the conveyor belt.
The nymph, whose name tag read
Karey
, peered at him with emerald-green eyes. “About time you showed up.”
A den of snakes could have popped out of her head as she glared at him.
His smile faded as he saw her belly from around the corner. Their eyes went back and forth and my first thought was,
Alex, you’ve been a naughty boy
.
She somehow completed my transaction without looking away from Alex for a second. One hand scanned my items and flew on the register while the other gestured at my brother.
“You think you can just have a week or two with me and then ignore my phone calls?”
Alex’s hands went up in surrender. “Look, Karey, it’s not what you think.”
I wanted to whisper to Karey that it actually
was
what she thought, but Alex was in enough trouble at the moment.
She was even able to carry on an argument
and
box groceries at the same time. “I’ve been searching for you for weeks. You never come to this store anymore, and your parents tell me they haven’t seen you.”
I glanced at the conveyor belt. Somehow two candy bars had replaced the box of condoms. My brother wasn’t
that
dumb.
“My parents said nothing about you being pregnant. I mean, are you sure I’m the father?”
My transaction was done, but for some reason I stood there and watched the train wreck in progress. Aggie chuckled from beside me. Should I save my brother by taping his mouth shut?
“Maybe this is all because I’m not the nice werewolf girl your parents expected to show up at the doorstep. I want your cell phone number right now.” She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re not skirting your duties as a father here, pal.”
“If that’s my baby, I plan to do the right thing.”
I could almost see my mother now. This would make the best Sunday dinner—ever. Even if my family wasn’t willing to tolerate my presence, I’d still pay money to see how
this
situation went down.
My brother bought the two candy bars and scribbled his cell phone number (the real one) on the receipt. With a serious face, he followed Aggie and me into the parking lot.
I tried to think of something serious to say, but Aggie opened her mouth first.
“Alex, you should be more careful. How do you know she doesn’t have a venereal disease or something?” She turned to me with a frown. “Can nymphs get crabs or something?”
“I wish I could tell you.” I raised my voice and leaned into my brother as we approached our cars. “Since I can keep my legs closed, I’ll never have to worry about that.”
Alex harrumphed. “I made a mistake. I never thought nymphs could get knocked up!”
I laughed. “Do you ever read Greek myths?”
Aggie couldn’t contain her laughter as she joined in the fun. “Yeah, I remember reading something about Zeus jumping into the sack with anything that had a vag.”
“If you could keep this quiet for a while, I’d appreciate it.” His face turned serious and his eyes darkened. Maybe Alex
was
the father.
I grabbed his arm. “Is it yours?”
“I’m not sure, but Karey’s not the type to sleep around.” He ran his fingers through his blond hair. I envied the glossy color he’d inherited from our mother.
“Well, give me a call later if you want to talk about it.”
He nodded and headed over to his truck. I more or less had expected my parents to match him up with a nice Russian werewolf girl from the big city. My brother was wild, but I’d never predicted an unplanned pregnancy with a tree nymph in his future.
A
fter
two days of watching my back, I didn’t want to venture out at night. Not the best way to start dating. But no matter what my problems were, I had to take a positive step toward feeling normal. And normal people went on dates.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aggie asked. “I can hook you up with the pharmacy technician at Walgreens.”
I frowned as I stared at my clothes on my bed. That poor human would never know what hit him. “Are you my date pimp now?”
“I’m your common sense trying to knock you over the head.”
The dark purple blouse and jean skirt that Aggie had helped me select left me wary. My hands began to sweat, and I paced in front of my bed. Before I’d set it down, I’d pressed the blouse against my cheek. No matter how nice these clothes were, to my nose they smelled brand-new and artificial. In contrast, my usual clothes had a familiar feeling that would bring comfort—but they wouldn’t help me reenter the pack.
Aggie sat on the floor with a bowl of barbecued potato chips in her lap. “You okay?”
I took a deep breath. “No, I’m not.”
“I can call this guy and tell him you’re not coming.”
“It’s not him. It’s the clothes.”
Aggie’s eyebrows lowered. “All you need to do is put them on.”
With clenched fists, I tried to suppress a rising panic. The rapid staccato of my heart echoed in my ears like the thunderous hooves of Clydesdales. “I know that.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to imagine myself wearing the clothes. I tried to visualize myself in them with a smile. A strained smile, but an attempt nonetheless.
I reminded myself:
This is what normal people do
.
Stifling heat filled my face, but I picked up the purple blouse.
Aggie touched my hair in concern. “Do you take medicine for your panic attacks?”
“I used to. But, well, the side effects didn’t agree with the wolf.”
“Yeah, I was lucky I didn’t need medication for my problem. My parents simply locked the fridge door.” She touched the jean skirt. “Maybe you could take a pill tonight to help you through the worst of it,” she suggested.
I faintly remembered the last time I took the drugs—shaking wildly as the wolf tried to escape the calm the pills forced on my body. Maybe the side effects wouldn’t be so bad. It’d been several years since I’d taken the happy capsules.
I handed Aggie the blouse while I went into the bathroom to take half a pill. As I downed it, I thought with dread,
Bottoms up
.
Aggie waited patiently while I took the next twenty minutes to put on the blouse and skirt. She commented briefly that she was glad I’d given myself two hours to prepare. “Is he picking you up?”
“No, I’m meeting him there.”
“That’s good. I felt uncomfortable about him taking you home in his hearse.”
“He doesn’t have a hearse. It’s a black station wagon.”
She rolled her eyes and popped a chip into her mouth. “I spotted it in the parking lot at The Bends the other day. You might as well call it the Death Mobile.”
Even with Agatha’s snippy quips about Quinton, I still found myself headed to Roger’s Place to meet him. Diners were heading inside, with a few casually waving in my direction.
For once, I almost felt normal. But as the local hermit-in-training, my appearance at the local Italian place still attracted plenty of interest.
“Nice to see you out and about,” said the owner of the flower shop down the street from The Bends.
I kept glancing at my watch, wondering if Quinton was running late. He still had four minutes, but I like punctuality.
Through the long window in the doors, I spotted a tall shadow and my heart leapt. Part of me wanted Thorn to appear and take Quinton’s place. Instead, the necromancer made his appearance holding a bouquet of red roses. He lumbered toward me wearing a suit jacket, and a nice pair of slacks.
I couldn’t suppress the smile that broke out on my face. I hadn’t expected him to be, well, not that bad-looking. Dark circles lined his eyes, but his irises were a fairly attractive midnight blue. Under his cologne, I caught the faint scent of sawdust and salt. (What the hell did he do with those zombies?)
I scratched my hand faintly as he offered the flowers.
“For you,” he grumbled in his deep voice.
“Thanks. You ready to eat?”
“Yeah.”
As we took our seats, I hoped our conversation would progress beyond three- to four-word sentences.
The waiter brought our menus and we read them in silence. “I highly recommend the lasagna tonight.”
Our waiter, a high school kid named Matt, did such a
good job selling the lasagna, we placed two orders and Quinton added a bottle of wine. And then we sat there staring at each other.
He broke the silence with, “You look nice tonight.”
I touched the collar of my blouse self-consciously. It had been a while since someone had noticed my attire, but I guess if one wears the same thing every day it doesn’t make much of an impression.