46 Jasper
JASPER
Pickles darts into the storage room with a hiss. That’s all the warning I have before Birdie is sweeping in behind him. Dáinn follows wearing his fancy new render. His stupid biceps bulge in that too-tight T-shirt.
“Did you hire him?” she says, thumbing over her shoulder at the wraith.
Slowly, I stand. “What?”
“Daniel says he works here now.” Judging by her expression, Birdie’s not too happy about it.
I look to the wraith with an arched brow, asking my silent question. Daniel?
He winces, then shrugs.
Interesting. Apparently, Dáinn doesn’t trust Birdie enough to offer his real name. Not yet. But he trusts me. There’s something significant in that, almost sacred. Trust is not easily given by a supernatural.
Pickles hops up on my computer desk as the other two come to stand before me. Birdie stands feet planted, arms crossed in her over-sized sweater, clearly on edge. Dáinn looms just behind her, his eager charm infectious as he offers me a hopeful smile.
Sighing, I rub the back of my neck. “So, what’s the problem?”
“Did you hire him?” she says again.
“I—”
Dáinn cuts me off before I can say another word. “All right, no, he didn’t hire me, okay? But he should.” He turns to me, brimming with excitement and purpose. “We both know I’ll be here either way. Why not put me to work? You know I can be useful.”
Birdie glances between us. “Wait, why will he be here either way? Jasper, who the heck is this guy?”
I bite back a groan. As much as I want to rip the cowl off and shout, “He’s a wraith!
,” it feels wrong to out him. Creature natures are sacred to supernaturals.
It’s for Dáinn to tell Birdie who and what he is.
Maybe if I thought she was in danger from him I would be more eager to spill his shadowy secrets.
But of the four creatures in this room, Birdie surprisingly has the least to fear from the wraith.
“He’s a friend,” I reply noncommittally.
At this, the asshole beams. He dares to reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I mean to be your friend too, Birdie. I mean to get as close to you as you’ll let me.”
She shrugs away from his touch, inching closer to me. I can’t help but feel a little pleased that she’s wary of him, instead seeking me out for safety and security. It soothes my green witch need to nurture and protect. When I reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, she doesn’t shrug away.
Dáinn focuses on our point of connection, shadows flickering in his hungry eyes.
I smirk.
Jasper: 1. Wraith: 0.
Swallowing his disappointment, he rounds on me. “Please let me stay. I can be useful. You wouldn’t even need to pay me. I want for nothing but your shared company.”
Birdie’s eyes are still wide. “Seriously, Jasper, who is this guy?”
I sigh, quickly thinking it through. He’s already made it clear that he intends to be here with us either way.
If I say no, he’ll just haunt us from the void.
If I say yes, he’ll attach himself like a barnacle to Birdie’s hip.
It won’t take him long to win her over. This creature is undeniable.
His stupid charms are even starting to work on me, and I’m the most caustic asshole I know.
Why am I delaying the inevitable? It’s not like I’m unwilling to share her attention with him.
Supernaturals are rarely fastidious about things like monogamy.
Weres come to mind, with their obnoxious obsession over finding their “moon blessed” mates.
But I’m no werewolf. As a witch and as a man, I believe in freedom of choice.
It’s not in nature’s way to trap a wild thing.
And Birdie may be human, but she’s as wild as they come.
If she’s going to push this wraith away, it has to be her choice, not mine.
Ignoring her question, I look to Dáinn. “Do you know how to use a cash register?”
“No,” he chimes, wholly unfazed.
Birdie sticks her hand in the air like this is a test she can’t help but try and pass. “I do. I know how to use it. And I really feel like Pickles and I have already established a good rhythm out there so—”
“Well, I know the names and properties of all the crystals,” he says over her. “Including fascinating factual tidbits about their uses and lore.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You call it fascinating. I call it creepy.”
“And I know the precise blend ratio to all one hundred and seven of Jasper’s teas. Do you?” he jabs. Wraiths are competitive. Who knew?
But Dáinn picked the wrong fucking one. I can see the moment Birdie’s Capricorn nature takes the bait for what it is, a clear challenge to her competency.
Her eyes narrow in defiance, shoulders set.
“Are you saying I’m unqualified for this job because I don’t have all the teas memorized yet?
It’s my first freaking day. I haven’t even had my first lunch break! ”
“Which is why you need me,” he urges. “My Birdie, we will work so well together, each making up for the other’s shortcomings—”
“Shortcomings?” she all but squawks like a parrot.
From the top of the computer desk, Pickles hisses, clearly taking her side.
Smirking, I cross my arms and step back.
Birdie and I actually have some pressing business to handle over at the Carousel, but this is entertaining enough to warrant a slight delay.
“Frankly, I don’t see the problem,” I dare to tease.
“Birdie will run the cash register and sweep the floors. Daniel will charm the customers with his vast knowledge of the occult. Pickles will supervise. Everybody wins.”
Birdie rounds on me, the stark pattern of her freckles fading on her cheeks as they bloom pink with her annoyance.
“So now I’ve been demoted to floor sweeper?
Are you kidding me? Pickles naps the whole time, and Hortie left for coffee, like, an hour ago!
I was successfully running the floor all alone.
But Stranger Danger swoops in asking for a job—a job I had to literally beg you for—and you just give it to him? ”
Wincing in his discomfort, Dáinn dares to reach for her again, offering a consoling touch. “Well, I am more qualified than you—”
She slaps his hand away with both of her own. “You don’t even know how to use the freaking cash register! And you’re more likely to scare the customers off than successfully sell a single candle!”
Deciding we’ve had enough fun at her expense, I step forward and grab her by the arms, pulling her back. “What do you say to a challenge then, hmm?”
She squirms in my hold. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“I’m saying that you and I have somewhere far more pressing to be.”
She goes still, glancing over her shoulder at me. “What?”
“I just got a text from Mercy. She’s back in the shop. We need to go ask about the journal. And while we’re gone, I’ll put Daniel here in charge of the shop.”
The asshole perks up, his chest puffing out with excitement. Seriously, why is his shirt so damn tight? “I won’t fail you, Jasper.”
I fight the roll of my eyes. I know this is important to him. I know how much he likes to prove himself. “Just don’t burn it down until we get back.”
As if on cue, there’s a shout from the front of the store. “Uhh . . . Hello?”
We all stiffen and turn.
“Does anyone even work here?” the irritated voice grumbles.
Dáinn’s eyes all but glow with purpose. “That’s my cue.”
“Knock ’em dead,” I mutter.
Wide grin on his face, he turns on his heel and sweeps from the storage room shouting, “Coming, fair patron!”
“Watch him,” I direct at the cat.
Pickles darts away, following after the wraith like a tiny black shadow.
With their exit, Birdie sinks against me, all the fight going out of her. “Unbelievable. Who is he?” she asks for a third time. Before I can answer she’s adding, “I feel like I’ve seen him before. Like something out of a dream. The way he looks at me . . .”
“Come on.” I squeeze her shoulders. “He can drive us both crazy later. Right now, we’ve gotta go talk to Mercy about that journal.”