Chapter 3
3
AVA
“ W hat the hell do you do with a music degree?” My father’s snarled words haunt me every day I walk into work.
When I went to college, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I enjoy music and have a way I can infuse my empathic magic into song. That’s how I ended up with a music degree. After graduation, I reluctantly took a job at my father’s encouragement with the city manager. It was supposed to be a temporary thing. Five years later, and I’m still working as an administrative assistant for one of the biggest dickheads in Mystic Hollows. And that’s saying something because he has some stiff competition.
Barty McDonald doesn’t know how to use email. He’s the city manager and he doesn’t text. For fuck’s sake. Each morning, my first task is to print out every email in his inbox. All of them, including the stupid spammy one. Because Barty doesn’t trust my judgment. What if I accidentally labeled something as spam when it’s incredibly important. Once, he asked me to print out an MP4. A fucking video. When I tried to explain it to him, he called me an aggressive know-it-all and wouldn’t let me get another word out.
I spent an entire day screenshotting the video and then printed off a five-hundred-page document. Barty gaped at it, turned beet red and then never commented on it again.
“I really need to quit my job,” I mumble as I leave the coffee shop. The only problem is that the stupid interview process takes so long that by the time I might get a call back, the hiring manager has already forgotten who I am. At this stage of my curse, it takes a little over a week for someone to forget me. For people who have known me my whole life, like my parents, they will remember me after some prompting and reminders. Eventually, even that won’t work. For a stranger looking to hire new staff, I won’t even be a blip in their memory once I’m out of their sight for a week.
Fucking curse.
The city manager’s office is only a few doors down from the coffee shop. It’s near the Lumen coven house and the Briar Hollows bridge. Even though the city official who set up the offices isn’t magical, the city manager is a witch. When he took the position ten or so years ago, the Tenebris coven threw a fit that a Lumen witch became city manager. That is politics I stay the fuck away from. And apparently it doesn’t matter now anyway.
I stop and look down at the frozen river. Legend has it that if you toss in a coin and make a wish, the Briar Witch will grant it. It’s never worked for me.
Just a few months ago, the night I walked in on my ex fucking someone else on our bed, I’d wished for true love. What a joke. I’m going to die alone. Even if I met the love of my life, they won’t even remember me if I go on vacation for a week without them.
I turn away from the river and fantasies that will never come true. Time to head into work.
“You’re late,” Barty barks at me the second I walk into the office.
My boss is intimidating for more than one reason. He’s loud, aggressive, belittling, and he’s a big dude. I’m only five-four, so he towers over me at six feet and change. He favors short-sleeved button-down shirts that stretch tight over his belly, testing the strength of his buttons on the daily. He’s the kind of muscular that hides under layers of fat. I have no doubt he could easily beat the shit out of someone, but he’d be wheezing the whole time. His hair turned prematurely gray at an early age and his face is oddly smooth. All combined, he’s a little creepy.
Barty’s office is in the back, which includes a couch with stains of a questionable nature. The thought of Barty naked makes me vomit a little in my mouth, so I try to avoid looking at the piece of furniture. The front area where I work has a utilitarian metal desk, plastic curtains that clatter together with the faintest breeze, and a sad plant that’s in its final throes of death. I keep bringing new ones into the office, but I can’t keep them alive for the life of me.
I peer up at the slightly crooked clock hanging on the beige wall. It’s not even eight yet. My hours shift depending on Barty’s mood and his own habits.
“Sorry.” I hang my coat on the back of my chair and log onto my computer.
Barty makes a disgusted sound, and I know it’s directed toward my outfit. Fun fact, I used to dress cute for work. I’d wear skirts and heels, dresses that could transition from day to night. I’d curl my hair every morning and carefully apply my make-up. Then Barty, who is the same age as my father, and has eyebrows with more hair than some men have on their heads, started commenting on how appealing I looked. I freaked the fuck out.
Today’s ensemble includes a frumpy brown sweater and a pair of wide-leg pants. I’m still wearing my snow boots because I refuse to stomp around in sub-zero temperatures and traverse snow-covered sidewalks in a pair of dress shoes.
“Get my emails and then come into my office,” Barty snaps and leaves my desk without another word.
I print off today’s round of emails and head to my boss’s office. It always smells like farts in here. I don’t know if Barty has stomach issues–no judgment there–but there’s a funk in this room that never fully goes away. Leaving the door open, I place the stack of emails on his desk.
I’m already turned around and headed back to the door when he speaks up. “You’re going to be reassigned for the next few months.”
I pause in the threshold, unsure what that means. “Reassigned?”
“Yes. As you know, the coven is planning an event for Lupercalia. I volunteered your time for the event planning.”
I slowly turn around and try not to gape. Barty is reading through the email printouts, making notes on some while throwing others in the garbage. He doesn’t even recycle them. The man is a dinosaur.
“What will I be doing?”
“Come now, Ava. You don’t strike me as a type of woman who needs to fish for compliments. I’m not going to list off how you can be useful to your coven.”
I beg to differ. Nobody gives me compliments. I suppose if I really wanted them, I would have to ask. But I certainly wouldn’t be asking Barty. Besides, that’s not remotely what I was asking him.
“I mean, what is the task I’m to take on?”
He rips a slip of paper from a pad on his desk and holds it out to me with an impatient flap. “To go here and begin planning. There’s no need to come into work until after the party.”
“Won’t you need someone in the office?”
I may not like my job, but I need it. If I’m gone for the next two months, Barty won’t remember me. I’ll come back into this office, and he’ll look at me like a stranger. He’ll shout, “Who the hell are you?” and call the cops on me. Not to mention, there’s a lot of shit I do here that needs attention. Also, how long does it take to plan a party?
“You can come in after hours to do your work. Don’t act like your job is rocket science. Surely, you can do two things at once.” Barty isn’t even looking at me. He’s chuckling at one of the emails.
Don’t hit your boss. Don’t hit your boss. I chant in my head and focus on my breathing. I know my job isn’t saving lives or changing the world. That doesn’t mean I don’t take pride in what I do. That I’m not good at my job. The implication that it can easily be done in an hour in the evening is insulting. What choice do I have, though?
“Of course,” I say as I back out of the room.
Barty grunts something that doesn’t come close to a goodbye as I slip into the hallway.
Turning off my computer, I tug on my coat. I pick up my still hot coffee from my desk. I wasn’t even here long enough for it to cool down. The piece of paper is clutched in my hand. I flatten it and look at the address, written in a tidy scroll.
Is that… The Grand Mystic Resort?
I pull out my phone and call my brother as I step outside. At this time of day, it’s a crap shoot. He might be free or he could have a student in his office. He’s a school counselor at the local, non-magical high school. I once asked him if he likes getting harassed by dickish teenagers all day and he informed me that he’s too cool for that. He’s definitely lying.
“Yellow,” Stellan answers, and I roll my eyes. Right, far too cool.
“Hey, are you busy?” I dodge a man walking down the sidewalk who evidently doesn’t see me and step into a pile of dirty snow. I hiss as it cascades into my boot.
“I’m just doing some paperwork. What’s up?”
Stellan is my sounding board. He’s my biggest supporter but isn’t afraid to tell me the hard truths. My parents refused to see me after I moved in with my ex, Jamie, but Stellan would never cut ties with me. I’ve been living in his spare bedroom for the past few months, trying to figure my shit out.
“My boss basically just loaned me out like an old paperback.” I unlock my car and get in. It turns over with a sad cough before chugging to life.
“What did Farty Barty do now?”
“He’s assigned me to work on the big coven party. Then he graciously let me know I can come in after hours to do my real work until the event is over.”
Stellan hums, and I hear the sound of his chair creaking through the phone. I imagine him leaning back and putting his feet up on his desk. “You do have experience in event planning, but who wants to do shit for the coven?”
I sigh, cranking up my heat and willing my car to warm up faster. “Maybe I should tell him to fuck off. By the time I get back to the office, he won’t remember who I am anyway.”
“Oh, I like this idea. Go give him an end of movie, starting my life over speech, where you flip him off and tell him good luck finding shit without you there.”
I flip on the defroster, shivering while my car warms up. “Except I need a job. Unless you’ve figured out a way to magically create money?”
“Still working on that spell, sis.”
The distant sound of a knock on the door and my brother’s muffled response of “just a minute,” reach me before Stellan gets back on the phone. “I’ve got to get going, but listen. You can quit your job. You can stay with me for as long as you like.” He pauses for a minute before going on. “You stand up for your friends and the people you love all the time, but you don’t stand up for yourself. Maybe it’s time you did.”
“Ugh. Go whisper that bullshit into the impressionable ears of the youths.”
“They don’t listen either. Bye, Ava. Grow a pair, I know you’ve got it in you.” Stellan chuckles.
“Shut up. Goodbye.” I hang up on my brother and drive to the Grand Mystic Resort.