The Witch's Familiars_A Reverse Harem Fantasy Read online

  "So you'll at least admit that I am helping people," she challenged. "Sarah Mullins' bulldog isn't any worse for the wear, is he?"

  Darren hesitated. "That was a fluke."

  "He was in the final stages of heart failure," she reminded him. "Now he's running around the dog park like a puppy."

  "Stranger things have happened."

  "And Stu Herbert?" she challenged. "Ian Richman's cat? How much proof do you need that I'm not your enemy?"

  "What you're doing is dangerous and despicable," he growled.

  "Why?"

  "Because you're giving people hope!" His shoulders heaved with anger and his eyes burned with passion that had once been directed at her in a very different way. "I don't know how you're managing any of this, but the laws of nature don't just bend for nothing. Something tells me when the piper comes calling, you won't be the one paying up."

  Jordan looked away out of guilt. He was right about more than he could possibly know, even if he was right for all the wrong reasons. "If there's even a chance that human or veterinary medicine could work for the people who come to me, I turn them away. All I'm doing is giving a little more time to the lost causes," she said quietly. "The ones even you can't help."

  He clenched his jaw and seemed about to argue when something behind her caught his attention. Jordan turned around in time to see the white cat trotting toward them. "How did you get out?" she asked through gritted teeth, lifting him into her arms.

  "So it really is him," muttered Darren. When he reached out, Hermes hissed and lashed his tail. Jordan pushed the vet's hand away in time to keep him from getting scratched.

  "Sorry," said Jordan, stroking the cat's fur and trying not to smile. "He's not fond of strangers."

  Darren pulled his hand back, clearly startled. "Can't say I've had that problem before. Cats usually like me."

  "He's... protective."

  "I don't understand how he doesn't even have a scar after the attack," Darren said, eying the cat with cautious intrigue. "But it's definitely the same cat you took from my office. What did you do?"

  "You know what I did. You just don't want to believe it.”

  Darren ran a hand through his hair. It had been getting shaggy as of late. He looked pale, too. Jordan couldn’t help but worry it was a side effect of coming back from the dead, but Hermes insisted he was fine. “Look, I came here to talk to you, not to yell at you."

  "No? You could have fooled me, what with all the yelling."

  "You push my buttons," he admitted, watching her for a moment. "More than just about anyone I've ever met."

  Jordan's lip twitched. "I've been told I have that effect on people. Guess that’s why we broke up.“

  Darren sighed. "Look, just do me a favor and send the next person who comes to you looking for a miracle cure for their poodle to me, alright? There's no need for you to get into trouble."

  "Something tells me if I was eligible for trouble it would have found me already, Doctor," she said dryly as Hermes rubbed his furry cheek against hers.

  Darren’s eyes narrowed. "Just because you're getting away with whatever it is you're doing for now doesn't mean your luck won't run out, Jordan. Remember that."

  "I will," she said, watching as he headed back to his truck.

  Darren paused with his hand on his truck. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.”

  "Yes?" she asked hopefully.

  "You be sure and bring him in to see me before the month is out," he said, pointing at the cat. "There's an ordinance in this town that says all pets have to be vaccinated and he's a nasty one. The last thing we need is him spreading a plague.“

  Jordan stroked the cat's fur to calm him as he let out a low growl of warning. "I'll get right on that."

  Darren seemed to want to say something else, but he didn't. He got back in his truck and took off down the road that led into town, leaving Jordan alone with her irate familiar. She opened her arms and let him drop onto the gravel. He flew up the stairs ahead of her and before she could even shut the door to her apartment behind her, the white cat was a man again.

  "If he comes at me with that needle it's going where the sun don't shine," Hermes fumed.

  "You're the one who takes the form of a rabies vector. Monday morning, you’re going to take one for the team and get inoculated before you make my life even more complicated.”

  “You say complicated. I think what you really mean is better.”

  Jordan pretended to think about it. “Hm, nope. Definitely meant complicated. And worse.”

  “You didn’t seem to feel that way ten minutes ago when I had my hand —“

  “Okay, that’s enough,” she snapped. “That was a momentary lapse in judgment, that’s all.”

  “Oh, really? And your one-eighty has nothing to do with the doctor’s visit?”

  “Of course not,” she muttered.

  "Suck it up, buttercup," said Hermes, his green eyes flashing with mischief. "It only gets harder from here, but the good news is that the road to hell is paved with good sex. A night out will make you forget all about average height, dark and handsome.”

  Jordan sighed. "I'll do what you ask as long as you help me bring mom and Ezekiel back, but I don't have to enjoy it."

  That infuriatingly wicked smirk spread across his face again. "Spoken like a true virgin," he said knowingly. "Hang onto that holier-than-thou attitude while you can. It's cute, but we'll see how long it lasts. You’re already starting to awaken to your true purpose.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know the job title. You wouldn’t have been chosen as a potential candidate if you didn’t match the description on some level.”

  Jordan’s face flushed. “So you’re saying I’m going to start acting like the biggest slut in human history because of my special destiny?”

  “I’m saying your magic isn’t the only thing you’ve been repressing. Your path has already been chosen for you. Might as well try to enjoy it and start living your life in the process.”

  "If you think I'm going to come over to the dark side because of sex, drugs and rock and roll, I think you're going to be waiting a long time," said Jordan.

  Hermes chuckled. "No, dear girl. Revenge, sex, drugs, those are all the vices of the weak. I chose you because you're going to fall for the same reason I did."

  She frowned. "And what is that?"

  "The greatest vice of all." He leaned in, an amused glint in his eyes. "Love."

  Twenty-Six

  It took little more than a week for Hermes’ constant pleading to wear down Jordan's willpower and she found herself in the middle of the New York City night club he had spirited them off to. Supposedly, the silver ring he’d given her to wear on her right hand would keep them from attracting any unwanted attention of the supernatural kind, even though they were past the safety of Cold Creek.

  Jordan slipped through the packed dance floor, close to hyperventilating as she was pressed closer into the crowd of strangers than she had ever been to a loved one. Sweat gleamed on taut bodies clad scantily in tight fabric that barely would have passed for clothing on the street. Jordan wasn't sure how some of them had even made it to the club without getting arrested.

  Hermes was supposed to be behind her, but she wouldn't have been surprised if he had disappeared altogether. She had given into his nagging in a moment of weakness, but the lights and the pounding house remix of a song she had grown to hate in the span of two minutes were starting to bring her back to her senses.

  To Jordan's amazement, Hermes had managed to navigate the crowd and make it to the bar before she did. He offered a hand to help her onto the stool he had saved for her and she climbed up carefully to avoid giving a show to the stranger who was already staring at her from the other end of the bar. Hermes insisted that the short faux leather skirt she was wearing was a symbol of freedom, but she had never felt more restricted.

  "I ordered us some drinks," he yelled, barely audib
le over the music even though he was only a few inches away.

  Good, she thought. She would gladly tolerate a headache in the morning if the alcohol could stave off the one brewing in her temples.

  A moment later, the bartender placed two drinks in front of them. Hermes’ appeared to be scotch, while hers was some sort of fruity concoction accented by an umbrella. It tasted decent, and the first few gulps gave her a pleasant buzz.

  "Easy there," warned Hermes. "The night is young; you should pace yourself."

  "The night is going to die young if I don't get drunk first," she muttered. She was starting to understand why her mother drank so much. When the thing you wanted most to forget was constantly thrown in your face, anything that made it easier was a plus. For Marla, that thing was a husband who was more focused on his daughter and all the money her powers brought in to his church than his marriage. For Jordan, it was the daily reminder that the only man she had ever loved couldn’t stand her.

  "Come on, let's go dance,” Hermes suggested. “That'll lighten you up a little."

  "I can't dance," she warned him.

  "And here I thought that was all you Pentecostals did," he said wryly, stepping off the stool. Before she could protest, he lifted her down as well. "This isn't a purity ball, Jordan. It's just for fun, there's no technique involved. Just follow my lead."

  She sighed her displeasure, but once she realized that he wouldn't be deterred until she had "fun," she let him lead her out onto the dance floor. If there was one thing she had learned in her time with Hermes, it was that it was better to just humor him until he got whatever idea it was out of his system.

  As they were absorbed into the crowd, Jordan began to see what Hermes meant about technique not being important. Most people seemed to be moving for the sake of moving rather than following any preconceived steps. A good many of them were too drunk to stay upright without help, so she felt slightly less ashamed of her own awkward movements.

  "You're so stiff," Hermes said with a laugh. Jordan could only hear him because he had pulled her body against his, his hand pressed against the exposed small of her back. Whether it was the alcohol or his touch, her face grew uncomfortably warm.

  "What did you expect?" she mumbled. "I told you I'm not any good."

  He pulled her closer than she thought possible and she found it hard to keep the image of his bare chest, which she had become far too familiar with, out of her head.

  "You don't have to be good," he said, giving her a once over. "Not when you look like that."

  Her blush intensified, settling any debate as to its origins. "I still can't believe you talked me into this," she muttered. "How do people 'hook up' in these places if they can't even hear each other talk?"

  Hermes threw his head back and laughed. "I don't think conversation is a big factor in the mating process of the human twenty-something." He leaned in close again and scanned the crowd. "See anyone you'd like to not talk to?"

  Jordan glanced around the crowded dance floor, hesitating. There was no shortage of good looking men of all kinds, but that peculiarly enticing breed of brooding veterinarian with smoky gray eyes was out of stock. "Not really."

  Hermes grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor as the pulsing remix of a vaguely familiar pop song faded into something slower. "Time for another drink," he announced.

  Jordan didn't complain when the bartender placed another set of glasses in front of them. "I think I'd like to go home after this," she said, taking a sip of the blue mystery drink. Whatever it was, it worked fast. "I appreciate you trying to cheer me up and all, but I'm just not the club type."

  "Sure. We'll just finish these and head back."

  "Thanks," she said, surprised by his understanding. Maybe the demon wasn't as unrelenting as he seemed.

  "Still thinking about the vet's new old girlfriend?" he asked.

  Jordan busied herself in shredding the dampened corner of her cocktail napkin. She wasn’t even sure when Darren’s ex had come back into town, but it seemed to have taken all of two seconds for them to get back together. “It's no big deal," she lied. "I mean, it makes sense that they're back together now that she's back in town. She's more his type anyway."

  "Which is?" he asked curiously.

  Jordan shrugged. "Intellectual. Sophisticated. Fit."

  Hermes snorted. "In other words, she’s the female version of him?"

  "Opposites attract only to the point where you're not literally everything the other person stands against," she murmured. "It never would have worked between me and Darren, not the least of all because of my father."

  "Maybe," Hermes mused. She could feel his eyes on her. Judgment would have been one thing, but it was the pity that emanated from him that she couldn't tolerate.

  Jordan slid off her stool and stumbled a little when her feet hit the floor. Her buzz had already faded, but the heels were making her look like a drunk. Hermes reached out to steady her. "You okay?"

  "Yeah," she said, righting herself. "I'm just going to use the bathroom before we head back."

  "Alright," he said, watching her with concern. "I'll be here."

  Jordan pointed herself at the neon restroom sign toward the back and hoped for the best. How anyone actually walked in these daggers was beyond her. Every step was torture. She made it toward the rear of the club, where the music was slightly less obnoxious, before her footing gave once more and she went down hard. She nearly collided with a stranger who ended up catching her.

  A man, judging from the strong hands that steadied her and the solid wall of muscle she found herself up against. "I'm so sorry," she began, looking up to face her near casualty.

  "Jordan?" There was familiarity in the confused voice, but the lights made it impossible to make out his features clearly. She squinted and his handsome face came into focus.

  “Chase?”

  He said something unintelligible and she shook her head to express that she couldn't hear him over the music. He motioned for her to follow him, so she did. A moment later, they were in the hallway that led to the club's restrooms and back offices with the dance floor still in view but almost muted.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked in disbelief.

  "I could ask you the same question," said Jordan. "Did someone commit a crime I should know about?"

  He laughed. "No, nothing like that. I was hired as an expert witness for a case in the city, and some of the team wanted to go out and celebrate." He grimaced. "I voted for the opera, but you can see how well that turned out.”

  "Oh," Jordan said, suddenly embarrassed about her own reason for being there. "I wish I had such a dignified excuse."

  "I'll be honest, you never struck me as the clubbing type."

  "I'm not," she admitted. Chase was enough of a gentleman to keep his eyes from roving, but Jordan knew she was dressed the part, thanks to Hermes. "A friend talked me into it."

  "Oh?" He looked around. "Where is she?"

  Jordan pointed over her shoulder. "The white-haired guy at the bar."

  Hermes waved, already on his next drink. The handsome young bartender was making his best attempt to chat the demon up. Poor kid, thought Jordan. He has no idea what he's hitting on.

  "Ah," Chase said, blinking. "He seems…tall."

  “He’s a pain in the ass,” she blurted out. Hermes had to know Chase was going to be there, but Chase himself seemed none the wiser. All the more reason to get him away from the demon.

  Hermes gave an awkward laugh and Jordan would have given anything for the horde on the dance floor to swallow her whole. "Well," he said, "if you weren't already here with someone, I'd invite you out for a cup of coffee and I'd be happy to give you a ride back to Cold Creek. I can't stand it here much longer myself."

  "No, please, take me with you," she said earnestly. Too earnestly. To her relief, he seemed amused.

  “You do look like you could use the coffee."

  "Let me just go tell my friend where I'm going," she said.
"I'm sure he'll be glad he can stay longer without me dragging him down.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Jordan went back to join Hermes at the bar, not surprised to find he’d put away another couple of drinks while she was gone. He didn’t seem any worse for the wear, so she wondered if it was even possible for him to get drunk.

  “Was that Chase Wilde?” he asked, eying the other blond.

  “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know he’d be here.”

  Hermes flashed her a wicked smile. “Who, me?”

  Jordan rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I find his company preferable to this,” she said, gesturing irritatedly toward the dance floor. “We’re getting coffee and then I want you to stay the hell away from him.”

  “Hey, right now, anyone who’s drawn to you is a prime suspect for being a consort and Darren was a flop. You’re obviously interested and I knew you’d wait until the end of the world if left to your own devices.”

  Jordan didn’t have the energy to argue. If they weren’t fooling around, it seemed they did little else, and her shame over their embarrassingly frequent encounters usually turned the one into the other. The demon’s tongue was as skilled as it was sharp… “We’ll talk about this when I get home.”

  "Call me if you need anything.”

  "With what, an incantation?"

  Hermes arched an eyebrow. "I was thinking more along the lines of your phone."

  "Oh," she said sheepishly. "Right. Well…just stay out of trouble.”

  “I’d say the same to you, but the sooner you’re not a sanctimonious virgin, the less annoying it’s going to be to be your familiar.”

  Jordan flipped him off when she was sure Chase wouldn’t see before making her way back over to him.

  "All set?" he asked.

  "Yeah, I was just reminding my friend not to drink too much," she said, wobbling a bit on one of the stairs.

  Chase gave her a wary look. "Are you sure you're alright?"

  "Yeah," she said, blushing as he opened the door. The crisp night air was a welcome jolt. “It’s the shoes more than the alcohol. I’m not that much of a lightweight.”