Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters (18 page)

Leaning over the passenger
seat, she popped the glove compartment open and tossed the ticket in with all
the others she meant to pay, but just never seemed to have the extra money to
do so. She chuckled to herself; perhaps her problem wasn't one of needing a
new
job, but finding herself a second one.

Straightening back up in her
car seat she was confronted with her newest nemesis: the car starter. "I
swear if you start for me from now until payday I'll buy you the best starter
money can buy," she promised. She inserted the key in the ignition and
turned it. The usual battle began. It coughed and spluttered as it tried to
start,
wanted
to start. She pumped the gas and held her breath, but
ended with nothing, just a familiar irritating growl as it attempted to start,
but failed.

A knock came on her car
window startling her enough to cause her to jump in her seat, slamming the side
of her head on the rear-view mirror. "Damn it!" she muttered under
her breath. Turning her head, she quickly rolled down the window.

As she rolled down the
window, the man who had rapped on it bent down to peer in at her, concern
evident in his brown eyes. He gave her a sympathetic smile. The smile was
brilliant, displaying two dimples and a set of perfectly straight, white teeth.
He was easily one of the most attractive men she'd come across in quite some
time. Something about him seemed to radiate serenity, automatically calming her
rattled nerves.

"If you continue doing
that, you'll just flood it," he advised.

I'm aware of that
,
she thought irritably, but instead she said simply, "I have this under
control, thanks." She attempted to roll the window back up.

"I'm Shamus
Flannigan." The dark-haired man extended his hand through the window to her,
stopping Suzanne from rolling up the window.

Suzanne looked at his hand
suspiciously, then back up to his smiling features. They were currently in a
bad area of Boston, not the greatest place to be meeting strangers out on the
street, which was becoming darker and more deserted by the minute.

Oh what the hell
,
she thought, taking his hand and shaking it. "Suzanne," she replied
looking up into his eyes, which seemed to be much older and wiser than the rest
of his body would allow you to believe. Based on his physical appearance she
assumed he would be perhaps thirty.

She had barely gotten her own
name spoken when a shot of electricity shot up her arm, and shimmied down her
spine, causing her to gasp as she looked down at their connected hands. It was
then, for a brief moment that she noticed a faint, yet colourful spark radiate
from their connected hands. She jerked her hand out of his grip, not certain if
she had seen and felt what she thought she had or if it was simply a figment of
her overactive imagination.

"Did you see that?"
she managed to squeak out, her blue eyes wide with surprise as she looked up
into his dark ones.

His expression went blank for
a moment, his brow furrowed, as if he was just as shocked and confused as she
was. Finally he looked up, smiled and gave a slight shrug of the shoulders.
"We must have a magical connection," he said, his grin widening as he
gave her a wink.

Feeling silly, Suzanne
laughed at herself. It was a simple shock; it didn't
feel
like a shock
though; a shock stings. The feeling she received was more of a tingling, almost
pleasurable. Very peculiar.

"Pop the hood, let me
see what I can do for you," he instructed, straightening up to his full
six feet and walking to the front of her car.

Popping the hood she opened
her door and stepped out, avoiding the puddle this time. She smiled. Small
victory, but she'd take what she could get at the moment. She walked around to
the front of the car to stand next to him as he evaluated the piece of
machinery in front of him.

As Shamus busied himself
under her hood, she took the opportunity to get a really good look at him.
Who
names their children Shamus in this day and age anyhow? Parents who want to see
their child's ass kicked at school each day that's who
, she determined.

Giving him a look over, she
somehow doubted he had lost many of the battles he was sure to have fought in
his youth. His body was as near to perfection as she had seen in some time.
Like one of those men you saw in the Calvin Klein underwear ads. A green, ribbed
knit t-shirt stretched over his lean, yet muscular chest and torso, and was
tucked into a pair of black slacks.

She braved a quick glance at
his ass, sure that he was too engrossed in his search for her mechanical
problem to notice her peeking. His ass was, as she suspected, tight and
firm-looking under the material of his slacks.

Continuing her investigation,
her eyes dipped lower to his feet. She was always of the opinion that you could
tell a lot about a man by the shoes he wore. What she saw made her do something
that she couldn't remember doing since she was a child.

She giggled.

At the sound of her laugh,
Shamus turned his head to look at her, his eyes locking onto hers with a
questioning look on his face.

Suzanne stopped the giggling
immediately. "S...sorry," she stammered, "I was remembering
something I saw on television last night."

He grinned, nodded and went
back to work on his inspection of the vehicle.

She chanced a glance down at
his feet once more to verify she had seen what she thought she had seen.

She had.

On his feet were a pair of
black shoes, polished to perfection. The big clunky Doc Martens style of shoe.
What had made her laugh was the rather large golden buckles that sat atop of
them instead of laces. They were the type of shoes you would expect to see on a
leprechaun, which only made them all the more humorous to her considering his
name was Shamus Flannigan.

Maybe he is a leprechaun
,
a voice in the back of her mind joked with her.
Nah! Way too tall. And hot.
Very, very sexy indeed, despite the shoes.
Besides, he's missing the
cane and hat. Or maybe they carried a stick? Or maybe it was a cane? Bah, who
knows?
A grin formed on her face, but she was able to hold back the
giggling this time.

He finally stood, wiping his
hands on his slacks. "As good as new."

Suzanne gave him a puzzled
look; she highly doubted whatever he’d done, tinkering under the hood without
any tools, could have helped, but she'd humour him.

He nodded towards the
driver's side of the car. "Go try it."

"All right." Suzanne,
still mindful of the wind attempting to push her skirt up and in all directions
around her, walked over to the driver's side of the car, opened the door and
slid inside. She turned the key in the ignition and, to her surprise, without a
single complaint, the motor roared into life.

Shamus came over to the
driver's side of the car and leaned down, giving her a charming wink.
"See. Good as new."

Suzanne was at a loss for
words. "I...I, well thank you. You're a miracle worker."

Shamus paused for a moment as
if considering the possibility. "No. I wouldn't say that exactly, I just
help people." He shrugged, "besides it's my job."

"Helping people? Like a
social worker?" She laughed. "Or a mechanic?"

Shamus laughed with her.
"I help people get where they need to be in life."

She eyed him, her blue eyes
surveying his face looking for hints about exactly what he meant, but they
could play that game all day. It didn't appear that he was going to be overly
forthcoming in supplying her with information about his occupation, so she
dropped the subject.

A career councillor?
God
only knew she could use one of those. She promptly dropped the topic from her
mind.

"Well thank you Mr.
Flannigan," she finally said.

He nodded. "You're
welcome and have a good life Suzanne Winters. I think you'll start to see luck
is on your side once again." He stood and backed away from the car, giving
her a half wave as he did so.

"You too. And thanks
again," Suzanne called back. As she put the car into gear and pulled away
from the curb it occurred to her that he knew her last name, but she was
certain she hadn’t given it to him. Looking back in the rear-view mirror she
was surprised to see that he was already gone.
Have a good life; kind of an
odd thing to say
, she mused.

By the time she arrived home,
Shamus Flannigan and the odd spark, which she had decided on her way home
looked more like a flash of colours, something more similar to a rainbow than a
spark, were all pressed to the back of her mind.

For the time being...

Chapter 2

Whistling a tune he didn't
quite know the name of, Shamus strolled into the kitchen of his cabin, grabbed
a glass from the cupboard, then went to the sink and poured himself a glass of
water. Taking the water with him, Shamus made his way into the living room.
Another
job complete. No worries, no hassles
.

"Damn, I'm good,"
he gave himself a mental pat on the back. At this moment, he was sure Suzanne
would be experiencing a round of good luck that would put her life back on the
right track. There was one thing that he couldn't quite get out of his head:
the rainbow spark that had been generated when their hands had touched. He had
played it off as a joke, speaking of a magical connection, but as a leprechaun
that spark had significance. It also had an intense physical impact on him. He
could feel a stirring in his groin at the mere thought of it. That touch, that
magical frisson, indicated that the person was the leprechaun's destined mate.

He had to admit he did find
himself attracted to her. She was the first human he had felt urges towards.
That long chestnut brown hair, those large doe-like blue eyes, the alluring
yellow dress that hugged her waist and breasts, its neckline dipping just low
enough to make a man, or leprechaun, crave to see more. Even her laughter was
like music to his ears, soft and flirty.

If he hadn't known her to be
human, he might well have assumed she was a siren, a seductress of men. But she
wasn't. Sirens knew they were sexy; they were bold and aggressive. From what he
had been able to tell of Suzanne, from watching her through the liquid gold and
then meeting her in person, she was sexy but in a quiet, alluring way. She was
reserved, modest, and somewhat introverted.

She was captivating.

Shamus gave his head a quick
shake.
That's crazy talk Shamus. It's the spark talking,
he attempted to
convince himself.

But the spark, of course, was
impossible. Leprechauns never, ever had futures with humans. It simply wasn't
how it was meant to be. A human's lifespan was significantly shorter than that
of the vast majority of mystical beings, not to mention the aging process. The
fact of the matter was that a leprechaun was more likely to die from an
accident or be killed by a demon or creature of that sort, than to die of old
age.

Most leprechauns received the
spark from fairies, or nymphs, or djinn, some even from angels. No. It had to
have been a one-time-only thing. A mistake. Plain and simple. Besides, the job
was done and it was time for him to move on to a new charge. That was the last
he would be seeing of Suzanne Winters.

"One peek. Just one peek
wouldn't hurt," he muttered to himself, putting his glass of water down on
the large wooden coffee table and making his way over to the pot of gold. He
tried to convince himself that he was just checking to ensure that his magic
had worked and that she was now cleared of the bad luck and on the path to her
destiny. Deep down he knew he was simply lying to himself. He
wanted
to
see her again, if only to spy on her through a pot of molten, metallic liquid.

****

To her delight, the car had
been working wonderfully for the past few days. She had received a rebate in
the mail – just today – from her car insurance company. Apparently
she had been charged too much for car insurance last year so they sent her the
difference. Receiving money from an insurance agency was nothing short of a
miracle, all things considered – at least in her mind. It just so
happened that the amount she received almost equalled what she owed in parking
tickets, so she took that money and squared herself off with the parking
commission of the city of Boston, Mass.

A number of other lucky
breaks seemed to have come her way the past couple of days as well: a Gucci bag
she had had her eye on for the past month suddenly went on sale. She got it for
half the regular ticketed price. She lost five pounds without even trying! The
cute guy she had been flirting with on and off at the supermarket over the past
month had finally asked her for her telephone number; and to top it all off,
she even received a raise. It was just a quarter – certainly nothing to
write home about – but it was better than nothing.

Suzanne's luck indeed seemed
to be taking an upward turn, at least until that moment.

It was Friday evening; she
had just finished her final day of work for the week and was currently in her
car preparing to head home. When she slipped her key in the ignition, instead
of the engine roaring to life, she heard the dreaded click.

She tried a second time,
holding her breath as she attempted her second try.

Click. Click.

Flopping herself back into
the seat she closed her eyes and counted to ten.

"Six...seven...eight...nine...ten,"
she opened her eyes and turned the key one last time.

Nothing. Not even the usual
click sound this time. "The least you could have done was
try
to
start," she muttered under her breath, scolding the car.
At least it’s
payday. I can afford the starter now
, she took solace in that fact as she
reached over and began to rummage through her newly acquired Gucci handbag
looking for her mobile phone.

Gotcha!
She yanked it from her handbag, flipping it open as she brought it to eye
level. As she began to dial directory assistance to request the number for a
towing company, she noticed the screen and keypad were dark. It was then that
she realized she had forgotten to charge it the night before. Dead.

"Ugh," she groaned
in frustration, tossing the phone back into her handbag. Letting out a loud
sigh, she looked around the parking lot. It was deserted. Workers rarely
lingered after a shift, and on a Friday evening it was like a stampede for the
door at quitting time. She always lingered a few extra minutes after her shift
just so she could avoid the madness of getting out of the parking lot with the
dozens of other workers. She now sat wishing she hadn't.

"Okay, Suzanne,
think." If she recalled correctly there was a service station with a stall
or two attached to it just a few miles down the road
. I could push the car
there, save the money on the tow...
She stopped that line of thought in its
tracks as she looked down at her four-inch-heeled sandals and above-the-knee,
short black skirt.

She considered going back
into the call center, but the building was in darkness. She was positive it
would be locked and the management already gone for the weekend.

"You're not going to get
out of this situation sitting here Suzanne," she coached herself, picking
up her handbag and exiting the vehicle. Once out she surveyed her surroundings
a second time. The area was mostly residential, the businesses nearby already
closed. She hesitated at the idea of going up to someone's house and asking to
go in and use the telephone. She'd seen one too many movies where bad things
happened to people stranded with car trouble, who thought it was a good idea to
seek assistance from inhabitants of the nearest house.

She chewed nervously at her
fingernail thinking.
The service station is only a few miles up the road
.
She looked up at the sky. It was slightly overcast, but she was certain there
were still a couple of hours of daylight left. If she hurried she could make it
to the station before it got dark.

The part of Boston she was
currently in was one of the last places a single female in high heels and a
short skirt wanted to be on a Friday night. Unless of course she was looking to
make a few extra bucks.

Nodding her head, Suzanne
made her decision. She locked the car, slung her handbag over her shoulder and
began her several-mile walk to the service station, walking as briskly as the
heels would allow her.

She was making fairly good
time; at least she thought she was. At what she assumed to be approximately the
halfway point between her car and the service station, she entered a severely
low-income, high-crime residential area. The sidewalks were lined with trash and
cigarette butts, among other things. The buildings, as far as she was
concerned, should have been condemned long ago; at least from their appearance
on the outside. Peeling paint, smashed-in windows, some with plastic or plywood
over them, broken wood and chipped bricks greeted her from both sides.

As she passed by one
particularly ragged-looking apartment building, the front door opened and a man
appeared whom she would have guessed to be in his mid-fifties, though it was
somewhat hard to tell, due to the fact he had a layer of filth over his
clothing and face, along with a scruffy beard, which hadn't been trimmed in
several years judging from the length of it. He spotted her immediately as she
picked up her pace, keeping her eyes straight ahead, hoping that avoiding eye
contact would discourage any communication with him. As she drew closer to the
steps, and to him, she could detect the smell of alcohol.

"Miss," he shouted
out as she approached him.

Suzanne scurried past the
man, taking a deep breath and hoping he wouldn't pursue, but not daring to look
back to find out for sure.

"Got a smoke?" he
shouted, louder this time.

Ignoring him she moved faster
still, nearly breaking out into a run. Once she cleared the next block she
dared to look back over her shoulder. He was nowhere to be seen. Suzanne was
thankful for that. What was beginning to concern her was that the sky was
starting to darken. Red and orange streaks were appearing along the line of the
horizon as the sun descended, giving way to the moon.

Because she was looking back
over her shoulder she failed to see the large, deep crack in the sidewalk,
directly ahead of her. The heel of her shoe stuck into the crack, sending her
hurtling towards the ground.

Suzanne let out a startled
scream as she tumbled forward, but her fall was broken by a strong set of
masculine arms that caught her, lifting her up into a tight embrace. The
embrace sent a tremor through her body.

Whipping her head upward, she
brushed a lock of hair from her eyes as she gazed into the concerned face of
Shamus Flannigan.

"Not exactly the best
neighbourhood in which to be taking a walk," he commented, the concern on
his face disappearing, giving way to a grin.

Suzanne couldn't help but
notice the amused gleam in his eyes. Nor could she ignore how good it felt to
be in his arms, her hands sliding up over his lean, muscular chest to around
his neck. She felt safe, secure, protected, for the first time since she had
started walking. She wasn't overly anxious to leave the security of his embrace
quite yet.

"What can I say? I'm an
adrenaline junkie! Once a week or so I go into a bad part of town to see how
long it takes to get mugged." She glanced over at the watch on her wrist
then continued, "Forty-five minutes so far."

Shamus nodded. "In that
case, I had better be moving on and leave you to it. I wouldn’t want to be
cramping your danger high," he teased, stepping away from her. As he
stepped away, her fingers brushed the bare skin of his neck under the collar of
the green button-down shirt he was wearing.

The contact of skin on skin
caused the same reaction she had noticed several days ago. A spark consisting
of a rainbow of colours emerged between their connected skin, taking her breath
away as a jolt whizzed through her. Suzanne gasped and backed away, unsure what
to make of it. This time she couldn't pass off what she had just seen as her
imagination. It was undoubtedly real.

Looking up into Shamus's face
she knew he might not have seen what she had, but he had to have felt what she
felt when her fingertips touched the bare skin of his neck. His expression
reflected her own feelings: confusion, surprise and a stirring of raw desire
within.

"Did you..." her
voice trailed off as she noticed a grin spreading over his face.

"Like I said before, we
must have a magical connection," he said, laughing lightly, then looked
down at her left foot. "I'm not sure where you're heading, but hope it's
not too far." Shamus pointed down to her shoe, which now had a broken
heel.

Suzanne followed his gaze
down to her shoe. The silver heel had pulled almost completely away from the
bottom of the shoe; it was being held on by just a thin half-inch of fabric.
She shrugged, and ran a hand through her long brown hair.

"Wherever you're going,
let me hail a cab and I'll escort you there," Shamus suggested, giving her
that sexy, dimpled smile she adored looking at.

"Do you have a mobile
phone on you?" she asked hopefully.

Shamus shook his head.
"I haven't really had a need for one."

Suzanne eyed him
suspiciously. "So how are we going to get a cab here?"

"We’ll hail the next one
to pass along," Shamus replied simply.

Suzanne's head fell back and
she laughed wholeheartedly. "I've been walking for nearly an hour now, and
have yet to see a single cab. I don't really think this area is a favourite of
cab drivers. If you are lucky enough to get us a cab, I'd be a fool to turn it
down." It suddenly occurred to her that this was the second time she had
run into him in this part of town this week. Did he live around here? Like the
other day he seemed to simply pop out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly.
Odd.