Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

"Is there a problem?" Kisten said. His attention was fixed a good three feet above my head. Slowly I turned, finding a really, really big man in a really, really big tux.

"It's the lady I need to talk with," his voice rumbled.

"I didn't do anything," I said quickly. "I was just looking over, um, the security. . . ." I finished weakly. "Just as a professional interest. Here. Here's one of my cards. I'm in security myself." I fumbled in my clasp purse for one, handing it to him. "Really, I wasn't going to tamper with anything. I didn't tap a line. Honest."

Honest? How lame was that? My black business card looked small in his thick hands, and he glanced at it once, quickly reading it. He made eye contact with a woman at the foot of the stairs. She shrugged, mouthing, "She didn't tap a line," and he turned to me. "Thank you, Ms. Morgan," the man said, and my shoulders eased. "Please don't assert your aura over the house spells." He didn't smile at all. "Any more interference and we will ask you to leave."

"Sure, no problem," I said, starting to breathe again.

He walked away, and play resumed around us. Kisten's eyes were full of annoyance. "Can't I take you anywhere?" he said dryly, putting his chips into a little bucket and handing them to me. "Here. I have to use the little boys' room."

I stared blankly as he gave me a warning look before he ambled off, leaving me alone in a casino with a bucket of chips and no idea what to do with them. I turned to the blackjack dealer, and he arched his eyebrows. "Guess I'll play something else," I said as I slipped from the stool, and he nodded.

Clutch purse tucked under my arm, I glanced over the room with my chips in one hand and my drink in the other. Surfer boy was gone, and I stifled a sigh of disappointment. Head down, I looked at the chips, seeing they were engraved with the same intertwined S's. Not even knowing the monetary value of what I had, I drifted to the excitement of the craps table.

I smiled at two men who slid apart to make a spot for me, setting my drink and chips on the lower rim of the table while I tried to figure out why some people were happy at the five that was rolled and some were upset. One of the witches who'd made room for me was standing too close, and I wondered when he would inflict his pickup line on me. Sure enough, after the next roll he gave me a sloppy grin and said, "Here I am. What are your last two wishes?"

My hand trembled and I forced it to remain unmoving. "Please," I said. "Just stop."

"Oh, nice manners, babe," he said loudly, trying to embarrass me, but I could embarrass myself a hell of a lot easier than he could.

The chatter of the game seemed to vanish as I focused on him. I was ready to let him have it, my self-respect wounded to the quick, when surfer boy appeared. "Sir," he said calmly, "that was the worst line I've ever heard, not only insulting but showing a severe lack of forethought. You're obviously bothering the young woman. You should leave before she does permanent damage to you."

It was protective, yet implied I could take care of myself, not an easy thing to accomplish in one paragraph, much less one sentence. I was impressed.

One-line-wonder took a breath, paused, and with his eyes rising over my shoulder, he changed his mind. Muttering, he took his drink and his buddy on the other side of me and left.

My shoulders eased and I found myself sighing as I turned to surfer boy. "Thank you," I said, taking a closer look at him. His eyes were brown and his lips were thin, and when he smiled, the expression encompassed both of them, full and honest. There was some Asian heritage in his not-too-distant past, giving him straight black hair and a small nose and mouth.

He ducked his head, seemingly embarrassed. "No thanks needed. I had to do something to redeem all men for that line." His strong-jawed face took on a false sincerity. "What're your other two wishes?" he asked, chuckling.

I laughed, ending it by looking at the craps table as I thought of my big teeth.

"My name is Lee," he said, stepping into the silence before it became awkward.

"Rachel," I said, relieved when he extended his hand. He smelled like sand and redwood, and he slipped his thin fingers into my grip to meet my pressure with an equal force. Our hands yanked apart and my eyes jerked to his when a slip of ley line energy equalized between us.

"Sorry," he said as he tucked his hand behind his back. "One of us must be low."

"It's probably me," I said, refusing to wipe my hand. "I don't keep line energy in my familiar."

Lee's eyebrows rose. "Really? I couldn't help but notice you looking at the security."

Now I was really embarrassed, and I took a sip of my drink and turned to lean with my elbows on the upper railing about the table. "That was an accident," I said as the amber dice rolled past. "I didn't mean to trip the alarms. I was just trying to get a closer look at—um—you," I finished, certainly as red at my hair. Oh God, I was screwing this up royally.

But Lee seemed amused, his teeth white in his suntanned face. "Me too."

His accent was nice. West Coast, perhaps? I couldn't help but like his easy demeanor, but when he took a sip of his white wine, my gaze fixed to his wrist peeping from behind his cuff and my heart seemed to stop. It was scarred. It was scarred exactly like mine. "You have a demon sca—" His eyes jerked to mine, and my words cut off. "Sorry."

Lee's attention flicked to the nearby patrons. None seemed to have heard. "It's okay," he said softly, his brown eyes pinched. "I got it by accident."

I put my back against the railing, understanding now why my demon-tainted aura hadn't scared him off. "Don't we all?" I said, surprised when he shook his head. My thoughts went to Nick, and I bit my lower lip.

"How did you get yours?" he asked, and it was my turn to be nervous.

"I was dying. He saved me. I owe him for safe passage through the lines." I didn't think it necessary to tell Lee that I was the demon's familiar. "How about you?"

"Curiosity." Eyes squinting, he frowned at a past memory.

Curious myself, I gave him another once-over. I wouldn't say Al's real name and break the contract we had come to when I had bought a summoning name from him, but I wanted to know if it was the same demon. "Hey, uh, does yours wear crushed green velvet?" I asked.

Lee jerked. His brown eyes went wide under his sharply cut bangs, and then a smile born of shared trouble came over him. "Yes. He talks in a British accent—"

"And has a thing for frosting and french fries?" I interrupted.

Lee ducked his head and chuckled. "Yes, when he isn't morphing into my father."

"How about that?" I said, feeling an odd kinship. "It's the same one."

Tugging his sleeve down to cover the mark, Lee rested his side against the craps table. "You seem to have a knack for ley lines," he said. "Are you taking instruction from him?"

"No," I said forcefully. "I'm an earth witch." I twiddled my finger with my ring amulet and touched the cord of the one around my neck that was supposed to defrizz my hair.

His attention went from the scar on my wrist to the ceiling. "But you…" he drawled.

I shook my head and sipped my drink, my back to the game. "I told you it was an accident. I'm not a ley line witch. I took a class is all. Well, half of one. The instructor died before the class was finished."

He blinked in disbelief. "Dr. Anders?" he blurted. "You had a class with Dr. Anders?"

"You knew her?" I pulled myself straighter.

"I've heard of her." He leaned close. "She was the best ley line witch east of the Mississippi. I came out here to take classes from her. She was supposed to be the best."

"She was," I said, depressed. She was going to help get Nick unbound as my familiar. Now, not only was the spell book gone, but she was dead and all her knowledge with her. I jerked upright as I realized I had been wool gathering. "So, you're a student?" I asked.