Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse (17 page)

It was worth it.
 
However, was it possible?

She had money.
 
She'd saved over the decades, and being a werewolf had certain advantages, namely in the way of hunting for food.
 
Marriage and children were never in the cards for her.
 
Werewolves couldn't have children.
 
Dating as a werewolf brought its own set of problems, and was an exercise in frustration she gave up a while ago.
 
Life was simple, with relatively little money flying out the door.
 
She even came into some money through not-exactly-legal means.

Living in the dating world or not, she still had needs.
 
When a congressman tried to have her killed for having a one-night-stand with his son, she had no problem killing the congressman and taking whatever money was lying about.
 
She had no illusions about what she was.
 
She was a powerful, terrifying werewolf.
 
When people tried to kill her, she killed them first.

Marie simply stayed away from government officials since that incident.

She carefully ducked under the awning as she left the bar.
 
It wouldn't have surprised her if it collapsed behind her from her simple movements.
 
Did she have enough money to bring the bar back from the dead?

She was going to find out.

A man jogging down the sidewalk slowed as he passed the bar.
 
He came to a stop, hands on his hips, taking deep breaths.
 
The runner kept his eyes on Marie.
 
She could only imagine what she looked liked.
 
Jeans, tennis shoes, a gray sweatshirt, stepping out of a dangerous, ruined building.

"Uh, ma'am," he called.
 
"Is everything okay over there?"

He took a step toward her.
 
Marie's stomach dropped as she sighed.
 
She wasn't in the mood to be social.
 
She wanted to get back to her apartment and wait for the delivery of her furniture.
 
A small, simple home-cooked meal was calling her name.
 
Regardless, she forced a smile and a polite wave.
 
Feeling social or not, there were plenty of benefits of being nice.
 
The jogger could be a future customer.
 
She also planned to spend the next fifty years in Sandy Cliffs.
 
It wouldn't be wise to start those years blowing off a local in his twenties, with a memory and plenty of time to age.

"I'm fine.
 
It's just a little messy in there."

"I'm sure," he said, approaching her.
 
"It probably doesn't smell all that good, either."

Marie laughed.
 
"You can say that again."

He returned the smile, and held out his hand as they met in the middle of the lot.
 
"Hi.
 
I'm Rob.
 
Rob Faraday."

She shook his hand and met his gaze.
 
"Marie Johnson."

She didn't get the feeling it would be a meet and leave talk, so she decided to examine him.
 
Mortal, mid twenties.
 
His scent wasn't unattractive, even with his perspiration tugging at her nose.
 
A nice mix of apple and cinnamon, with as dash of daffodil.
 
It made her hungry.
 
Short, dark hair, bangs covering his forehead.
 
Lean, athletic body.
 
Crooked smile, with a hint of mischievousness.

"It's not really any of my business," he said, looking over her shoulder.
 
"But I've seen nicer, better crack-houses in the neighborhoods."

Marie laughed and turned to stare at her bar with Rob, shoulder to shoulder.

"It's not a crack-house.
 
I actually own the building."

"Oh.
 
Well, uh, congratulations, I guess?"

"I don't
live
here—"

"I would hope not."

She smiled.
 
"I'm new in town.
 
I'm hoping to turn this—"
 
It pained her to say the word, but it was true.
 
"Dump into a bar."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

Rob brought a hand to his chin.
 
"Well, I've only seen one liquor store when I'm out running around.
 
You might not have a lot of competition."

Marie noticed his words.
 
"Sounds like you're new here, too."

"Been here two days.
 
Got an apartment at Southdale.
 
Nice little place, if a little overpriced."
 
He looked at the neighborhood behind him.
 
One man was cleaning leaves from his gutters, and a single car drove down the road.
 
Besides that, silence.
 
"Sandy Cliffs is riveting, isn't it?"

She nodded.
 
The peace and quiet of Sandy Cliffs was one of the many reasons she missed home so much.

"I have to admit, I like it here."

"Oh, don't get me wrong.
 
Me, too.
 
It's just I lived in New York for a few years.
 
It's a nice change of pace here, but it could use a little more…excitement.
 
Maybe a bar will do just that.
 
There could be scandals, bar fights, people hitting each other over the head with a pool cue, drunk wives searching for their husbands.
 
Or hell, drunk husbands searching for their wives."

Marie had to laugh.
 
"Well, I'm hoping to avoid some of that."

"Do you live around here?"

She narrowed her gaze, ever so slightly.
 
"I don't live at Southdale, if that's what you're asking."

"Ah, very smart," he said, flashing her a thumbs-up.
 
"But I'm not a stalker.
 
I'm actually thinking of a job.
 
If you're serious about turning that into a bar,"
 
He frowned at the run-down building.
 
"That means you'll be hiring.
 
I'm working two part-time jobs right now.
 
To be honest, I could take or leave either one."

For the most part, she'd been thinking of the cleanup and construction.
 
She could only imagine how many finer details she was missing.
 
How many people would she need to help run the bar?
 
What kind of food should they serve?
 
Rob mentioned pool tables, an idea Marie hadn't even thought of.
 
Television didn't even exist when her parents first opened the place.
 
She could almost see it in her mind.
 
A TV, perhaps two, in the corners.
 
A few pool tables, maybe an old-fashioned jukebox.

She pulled herself back to the present.
 
All of that was still a long way off.

"Do you know anything about tending bar?
 
I'm thinking about running a small kitchen, too.
 
Can you cook?"

"Absolutely not, to both questions.
 
Probably not the answers you were looking for.
 
But I work hard, and I learn fast."

Marie looked him up and down, almost playfully.
 
She wondered if she was staring at her first employee.

"Look, how about this?
 
Let me have your phone number."
 
He looked down at his sweaty exercise clothes, his tee shirt and shorts.
 
"This is not the first impression I want to make on a job interview.
 
We can talk on the phone.
 
And I swear, this is just an employment thing.
 
I'm not asking for your number because you're absolutely gorgeous.
 
Even though that part's true, too."

She smiled once again.
 
Attractive, charming, funny, nice smile.
 
If she were interested in a one-night-event, perhaps she'd consider Rob Faraday.
 
But she had to be very selective on who she chose to strip naked.
 
Plus, it took a special kind of man to handle her.
 
Rob wasn't it.

"Let's do it this way," she said.
 
"You give me your phone number instead.
 
Once I get my head wrapped around this whole thing, start getting it off the ground, I'll give you a call."

Rob nodded.
 
"Hey, that works for me."
 
He looked down at his clothes once again.
 
"You have a pen and paper, or just your phone handy?"

"Back at the car."

She led him away from the building and back to her Ford Focus.
 
If she were still mortal, she might have second-guessed what she was doing.
 
The man cleaning his gutters was long gone.
 
She was leading Rob to her car, at the far end of a neighborhood block.
 
There wasn't a single soul around.
 
She'd seen it before, the terrible things mortals were capable of.
 
A quick shove inside, a knife or gun pointed at her.

Marie laughed at the images in her head.
 
She could snap Rob in half if she wanted to.

"I don't have a phone yet," Marie said, reaching for her purse.
 
"But I've got a pen and paper in here somewhere."

"Seriously?
 
No phone?"

She shook her head, not at Rob's question, but at the times they lived in.
 
She remembered the excitement and awe of making her first phone call without using a switchboard operator.
 
Now it was considered odd to
not
have a phone on hand at all times.

"Nope.
 
No phone."
 
She shrugged.
 
"I might not even get a cell, just a simple land line for the apartment.
 
I really don't know anyone.
 
It's not like my phone would ring off the hook."

"Well, you know me now, so that's someone.
 
And when you get that bar running, whether you hire me or not, I'll make sure the whole damn town comes along.
 
You'll know a lot of people."

She smiled, but didn't like the sound of that.
 
Running a bar in a small town wouldn't exactly let her stay in the shadows, but she simply didn't want to know a lot of people.

Rob recited his number for Marie, which she jotted down and shoved back in her purse.
 
He started jumping in place, shaking his head.
 
Apparently, it was time to run once again, but he looked ridiculous.
 
She tried not to laugh.

"Okay, I'm going to get back to my run.
 
If I end up behind a bar, serving drinks to single ladies, I have to look good, right?"

"If you say so."

"Call me anytime.
 
Hell, if you want help for the cleanup, I'll help with that, too.
 
I just have to dust off my hazmat suit."

"Thank you, Rob.
 
I really appreciate it."

He resumed his run, reversing direction and sticking to the sidewalk.
 
Turning and waving, he nearly ran into a woman getting out of her car.
 
He held his thumb in the air, to let Marie know everything was fine.

She simply waved and shook her head.

Turning back to the bar, she took a deep breath as the scope of the project settled on her once again.
 
So much to do.
 
She had no partners.
 
She didn't even have a shoulder to lean on.
 
But she would pull it off.

One thing at a time.
 
That's what she constantly told herself.
 
The first step was cleanup, and that began tomorrow.

She had other plans for the night.

Marie pulled up in front of her apartment building just in time to see two men having a discussion near a delivery truck.
 
The rear of the truck was open, a couch sitting on the lift gate.
 
A man dressed in a yellow uniform leaned on the back of the couch while his partner paced in the grass, a cell phone to his ear.
 
With her keen hearing, she heard the conversation as she pulled into the lot.

"Nah, boss, she ain't home.
 
We ain't got her number.
 
Can you give her a call?
 
See if she'll answer?"

"What's going on?" the partner asked.

He covered the mouthpiece.
 
"I'm trying to make Randy do some actual work."

She couldn't hear their boss, Randy, but he spoke only for a second.
 
The delivery man on the phone shrugged and tucked his phone away.

"He just says to come on back."

She parked and quickly jumped out of the car.

"Whoa, there.
 
Hold on a sec.
 
I'm here.
 
I'm so sorry.
 
I guess I lost track of time running around town."

He pointed at the couch.
 
"This is for you?"

"Yeah.
 
A couch and chair.
 
For apartment 2-C.
 
I'm Marie."
 
Her new name still sounded foreign to her.
 
"Marie Johnson."

The delivery man looked her up and down, obviously liking what he saw.
 
He double-checked the paperwork and her driver's license.

"Okay, then.
 
Just point us in the right direction."