Chapter 2

Harlow

The incessant chirping of birds outside my window woke me far too early the next morning. My fingers tingled with the need to lash out with just a little power to make them shut the hell up. At least for another five minutes.

Kedron held me back after closing to strongly suggest I refrain from shedding further blood under his roof. Apparently, pointing out that blood wasn't technically shed until we were outside—therefore not under his roof—wasn't the response he wanted, and my penance had been an even longer lecture with frequent threats to my job security. Just another Thursday night, really. His reaction probably would have been worse if Lindsay hadn't spent half his bar shift on his knees.

Gods bless my horny hero.

By the time I had sufficiently pandered to Kedron's need for order and done a last sweep of the bathrooms and dark corners for those too busy hooking up to take the hint and move the hell on, dawn was on the horizon and my head felt it weighed a thousand pounds. Between the late night and the hangover from the amount of power I discharged, I had flopped into bed and blacked out until Tweety Mc-soon-to-be KFC started his racket. Flexing my knuckles, I tried to remind myself that electrocuting the local fauna in a sleep-deprived rage was probably not the best way to start the day.

I could do this. I'd just ignore the piercing call that seemed to have been picked up by a new group of flying rats and…

A clash of metal on stone sent my heart into my throat as I bolted out of bed, ready to defend my apartment from intruders.

"My bad."

Shit. Addie was trying to cook again.

With a last desperate look at the pile of pillows and blankets that begged for my return, I heaved a sigh and went in search of my little protégé.

"Addison Mae, what the fuck are you doing here at this hour?" I asked, leaning a hip on the kitchen counter and taking in the sight of the little ingrate.

Five-foot nothing, with dirty blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes—which she used to best effect whenever she needed something—Addie was a product of the same orphanage that spat out Lindsay and me, a decade ago. Meaning she was smart as anything, a boss at manipulation, and used to fighting for what she wanted.

"I was hungry. It's the end of the month, and they're cutting costs, which means the food is shit until they sell the next kid."

I rolled my eyes at her dramatics and switched off the burner on the stove.

"So you thought you'd come and burn my place down instead?"

Her lips twitched, trying to suppress a wicked smile. "It's your own fault for hiding the spare key in the dumbest place possible. For someone in security, you're pretty lax around here."

"That's because anyone stupid enough to break in gets zapped."

I chuckled to myself at the memory of the last guy who tried. Only things he left with were an eyeful of Lindsay walking around nude, fresh out the shower, and a painful-looking twitch.

"Wish I could zap away the people I don't like. All I've got is the pepper spray you got me for my birthday."

While Addie was technically a witch, same as Lindsay and me, she'd never been able to access her magic. We could sense it in her, but for some strange reason… nothing. And unfortunately, potential adoptive parents weren't willing to take a chance on a "broken" witch.

Lucky for her, Lindsay and I had a soft spot for rebellious freaks.

"We'll level you up to a taser for your eighteenth," I promised.

It wouldn't be difficult to get her the taser now if I really thought about it. But she'd already pepper sprayed two other teens in the foster program for pouring a bucket of ice water on her while she slept—got ‘em right in the eyes, I was so proud—and I wasn't totally convinced she wouldn't tase them for the same offense. Better to wait just a few more years.

Turning away from the would-be cooking disaster surrounding the stove, I pulled a box of cereal from the cupboard and filled up two bowls.

"Seriously? I wanted to make waffles." Addie pouted, giving me her best doe-eyes.

"It's the end of the month here, too, kid. At least this has real sugar." I grabbed the milk and topped off our breakfasts. "Pick whatever you want on the TV and let's eat. If I have to be up at this hour, I at least wanna be fed."

Addie pulled two spoons from the drawer and dunked them in the bowls—her version of contributing to the meal. "I can work with that."

***

The minutes before opening were some of my favorites at work. The air smelled like lemon from the surface spray used to clean down the bar and tables, and the dance floor shone with polish, clean—for now—of the sticky alcohol that would mar the surface and suction shoes come closing. Outside, the queue of partiers awaiting their first drinks buzzed with excitement, their voices muted by thick walls for the moment, but that would change very soon. I took a deep breath and smiled. This was the quiet before the storm. And I lived for the storm.

"One minute until the doors open. All staff confirm you're ready, bitches." Lindsay's voice crackled through my earpiece, sounding as official as he ever did. I rolled my eyes and added my own "ready" to the chorus of responses.

Power crackled through my veins, lifting the hair on my arms as the first patrons trickled in and bee-lined to the bar for their first round. Kedron would get his panties in a twist if I got in a knock-down-drag-out fight two nights in a row, but it didn't stop me hoping someone would give me a reason to work out some of this excess energy.

I got my wish three hours later.

"Harlow, I gotta go on my break. Can you cover the door for me?"

A glance at my watch told me it was around about the time Benji's kid went to bed, so rather than give him shit for handballing his time on the door, I weaved through the mass of sweating bodies and broke out into the night to see a sheepish-looking Benji with his cell already in hand.

The guy may have been half giant, but he had the softest heart of anyone I'd ever met. Especially when it came to his family.

"I owe you one."

"Say goodnight to Jesse for me." I gave him a half smile before resuming my best sneer to welcome the preppy douche crew who had stepped up to the entrance.

"Is this really necessary?" Chad #1 asked as he fished his Hermes wallet out of his Prada slacks.

"Not at all. You're free to fuck off and not waste my time."

Chad #2 smirked at me, holding out a crisp twenty dollar note. "How about we skip all of these formalities, and you just step aside, sweetheart."

I crossed my arms over my chest and took a lean against the doorframe.

"Tell me, Chad—"

"My name's not Chad."

"Do you like your balls, Chad?"

Chad #2 frowned as though I'd given him the sphinx's riddle to solve.

"What—?"

I lifted a hand and let a line of electricity dance across my fingertips.

"Because I have a policy. If an asshole calls me sweetheart, I surgically remove the contents of his sack. Don't worry, it's completely non-invasive, and has a one hundred percent success rate in ensuring complete sterilization so that there's no next gen douchebags coming from your line."

Chad #2's Andrew Jackson sagged in his hand in much the same way I imagined his limp dick sagged at the hooting and hollering of his boys in response to my very earnest offer. His eyes flashed yellow briefly before he backed up to a safe distance.

"Screw you, bitch. You couldn't handle this."

Oh look, he was grabbing the less-than-a-handful that was his junk.

"Come on, boys, this place sucks, anyway."

As the Chad brigade moved off down the road, they continued to vocalize their dislike of Cassandra's Bane.

Fucking idiots.

"Fucking idiots." The deep chuckle that followed the statement washed over me like bathwater. Warm and sensual, I felt the urge to melt into the body beside me. He smelled of petrichor, of earth and ozone and the promise of cleansing rain, and a smile hitched the corner of my mouth a moment before I felt the pinch of a blade at my back.

"Cute party trick, but now we need to have a chat, you and me."

Motherfucker. How dare he interrupt my attraction by being… from the corner of my eye, I caught a familiar patch on his leather jacket and barely suppressed a sigh. If it wasn't the consequences of my own actions. Looked like Kevy-bear held a grudge.

"Walk. Around the corner, and don't try anything funny if you want to keep your insides on the inside."

I turned my eyes to the overcast sky and decided to play along for now. I was hilarious, damn it, and best believe I was fully capable of looking after my own insides. Aaand now the word inside had lost all meaning. Great.

Stumbling around the corner and into the alley that still bore the black marks of my power discharge from the night before, I found the nice-smelling jerk had brought friends.

"Hello, boys," I called, ignoring the sharp implement digging into my skin.

As one, the group glowered at me like I'd hurt their leader. Oh…wait.

The guy behind me finally retracted the stupid knife, and I got my first good look at him. Dark hair, darker eyes, and a delicious number of tattoos.

Bad Harlow. Stop ogling the bad guy. Focus on something else until you fry the bastards.

Looking around the small group, something occurred to me, and I couldn't suppress my gasp of delight.

"Oh my gods. Do you guys all have matching clothes? Like… did someone have to put in an order so you could all wear the same thing? That's so cute! It has your little logo on it, too!"

"Shut it, witch," a beefy blonde guy growled from the back of his motorbike.

"I'm sorry, but like, did someone do it on Canva? Or did you have to send away to some other company to…" My taunt fizzled out as the clouds parted and Bike Boy's blonde hair shifted to a blood red.

"Witch."

The whisper floated through the alley, and without conscious thought, my head dropped back and my eyes focused on the largest blood moon I'd ever seen.

In an instant, my body seized. Every muscle turning to stone as the moon expanded, flooding my vision so that all I could see, all I knew, was the deep, viscous red.

"Little lightning rod, your time is as short as your temper. Seek your salvation in Spells Hollow."

The voice reached for me through the moon's powerful pull. Like an anchor, I wanted to reach back. It sounded female. Warm and tinged with an affection that was almost as confusing as the message, it carried a weight to it that was almost physical. Authoritative. I took a step forward, and as though the loss of paralysis broke the spell, the red drained from my vision, and I sagged like a marionette with its strings cut.

Awareness returned slowly as I registered the cool night air, followed by…

"Motherf—"

Pain radiated through my cheek, and I blinked hard to focus on the beefy blonde asshole who was rearing back for a second shot.

"Playtime's over, assholes." No longer in the mood to entertain, I gathered my power, ready to let loose.

The fire exit beside us blew open to reveal Lindsay's favorite Mr. Tall, Hung (his words, not mine) and Extremely Pissed Off.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Kedron glowered at the group of us like we were teen miscreants caught smoking behind the school bleachers.

"This has nothing to do with—"

My boss kept talking at me as though the blonde idiot didn't exist.

"I've told you before. Kick these guy's asses on your own time. While you're here, you're mine. Get back to work."

"But I was just gonna—"

"No."

Spoilsport.

Pouting at Kedron for ruining my fun, I shouldered past the pretty psycho behind me who was too busy frowning at the sky to notice my departure and headed back toward the front of the establishment.

Seek your salvation in Spells Hollow.

I paused, wondering if the echo came on the wind, or if it had tunneled into my subconscious. Either way, it didn't matter. Salvation was for those looking to be saved.

"And my life is fucking peachy just the way it is," I muttered, lifting my chin at Benji and striding back inside to greet the chaos.