[myst] ordinary magic 03.3 - scissor kisses Read online

  Scissor Kisses

  An Ordinary Magic Story

  Devon Monk

  Odd House Press

  For my family and all who know that sometimes love comes with a little chaos

  Contents

  This Valentine’s Day, there’s more than hearts at risk…

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Devon Monk

  This Valentine’s Day, there’s more than hearts at risk…

  Police officer Myra Reed prefers her life orderly, predictable, and logical. Unfortunately, she lives in the little beach town of Ordinary, Oregon where gods vacation and monsters cause all sorts of trouble.

  Her most recent headache is a sexy demon named Bathin, who has tricked his way into both living in Ordinary, and owning her sister’s soul. She wants him out of Ordinary. He wants…her.

  Myra will get her sister’s soul back no matter the price. But first she must deal with a stalker, a crossroads deal, and a dangerous spell that could fix everything, or reveal the one secret she’s buried deep: she might be falling in love with a demon.

  Scissor Kisses Copyright © 2018 by Devon Monk

  ISBN: 9781939853080

  Published: Odd House Press

  Cover Art: Lou Harper

  Interior Design: Odd House Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or book reviews.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter One

  The valentine shoved under my screen door was written on a very thin page—page 1492, to be exact— torn out of a very large dictionary. Scrawled across the entries that spanned from lovable to lovering was this little ditty:

  Roses for the dead

  Violets for the blue

  It won’t be long now

  I’m coming for you

  I loathed Valentine’s Day.

  The note was addressed to me: Myra Reed, Ordinary, Oregon. Since Ordinary was a town that all manners of gods, monsters, and creatures made a home, the note could have been left by anyone.

  Or anything.

  Kill me with a cow kick. I did not need to deal with a stalker right now. I was already stretched thin enough holding down my shifts at the station, and researching how to rid the town of one specifically annoying demon who owned my sister’s soul.

  “Nope,” I said as I folded the letter neatly along its creases and placed it in the slot by my desk where I kept bills and unanswered correspondence. “No time for this. Not today.”

  I was already late.

  I tucked a few things into my pockets: a couple of vials of rare oils, holy water, and a lighter. I also picked up a little packet of paper that had a pressed angelica flower inside.

  I checked that I had my gun and my badge, then grabbed my coat and left my house.

  Whatever came at me today, I’d be ready.

  I was not ready.

  “This is not in the plan,” my younger sister, Jean Reed, said from where she was slouched in the passenger side of the cruiser. “Seriously, Myra. There is nothing remotely romantic out here.”

  I ignored her and turned the cruiser into the wayside park. It was one of the many viewpoint turnouts along Highway 101, the strip of highway that pierced the heart of Ordinary, Oregon like a compass arrow aiming north/south.

  “The plan,” Jean went on, as if we were having a conversation instead of me listening to her complain for the last five miles, “is to come up with some sort of romantic gift for Hogan. You said you’d help.”

  “I will help. After we check out the viewpoint.”

  She sighed. “It’s my day off.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s your day off too.”

  “Yep.”

  “You brought your gun and badge.”

  “So?”

  She shrugged. “Do you know why you brought them?”

  Jean was the youngest Reed sister, and her family gift was knowing when something bad was going to happen right before it happened. I was the middle sister and my gift was being in the right place at the right time.

  I’d learned to go with my instincts when I felt I should be somewhere. I’d also learned to bring along whatever random items seem appropriate.

  “I don’t know why I wanted the gun and badge,” I said. “But it seemed right.”

  She accepted that with a small grunt.

  “Do you have any bad feelings about this?” I asked.

  “Not a twinge. But they come on pretty quick, without warning.” She pulled a candy out of her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. The sweet scent of mint filled the car, along with the sound of the candy clicking against her teeth as she sucked on it.

  “If you don’t feel anything bad is going to happen,” I said, “nothing bad is going to happen.”

  She crunched her candy. “Hopefully. So why don’t we just go shopping now? Valentine’s Day is in two days.”

  “But romance is forever, right?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You are worrying too much about Hogan,” I said. “You know he’ll be happy if you gave him nothing more than a kiss.”

  “But Valentine’s Day should be romantic. The most romantic.”

  “Romance isn’t gifts. Hogan doesn’t need a holiday invented to sell candy and cards to know how you feel about him.”

  “Aw,” she said. “That’s sweet, Myra. Look at you being all sweet.”

  “I am not being sweet. I’m being practical,” I said. “And truthful.”

  “And boring,” she said.

  “You mean responsible?” I replied.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s totally what I meant.” She flashed me a smile. Her teeth wore a blue candy film.

  The outlook was a wide paved loop that ran along the edge of the cliff above the Pacific Ocean. If I’d parked along the grassy edge of the place, we’d be getting a postcard view of waves and rocks and beaches scalloping up the shore into the blustery February sky.

  Instead, we were staring at a restroom. The concrete building sat in the center of the grassy medium that took up the middle of the loop.

  The building was concrete, no windows, brown metal roof, separated into men’s on one side and women’s on the other.

  “So?” Jean asked. “What now?”

  I didn’t really know why I was here. I’d never used this bathroom before, had never been called out on any kind of crime here—hadn’t been called out on a crime today.

  But that tingly-finger feeling dragged down my spine and set off the “go-now, move-now” heat in my chest. I needed to be here.

  So here I was.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “God, monster, magic?” she asked.

  Good question. In our town, gods put down their powers to vacation here. We also were a safe haven for every kind of supernatural creature and being.

  So there were a lot of options for what might be going on in that
building.

  “So…the restroom?” Jean shifted in the seat, leaning down to give the place a harder look. “Why?”

  “Still don’t know.”

  “Tick tock, sister. You promised me lunch. And dessert. And a plan for Valentine’s Day.”

  “We can still do all that. After.”

  A patter of rain clicked across the roof, wind buffering hard enough to rock the cruiser. Sunlight licked through the clouds, the palest promise of summer warmth. February was cool and fickle along the Oregon coast. Picture-perfect moments bookended by rain, fog, wind, and stunning sunsets.

  Jean rolled her head against her seat to look at me. Her hair was Lego-brick red and pulled up into a messy bun. Strands of it twirled down beside her face and made her look mischievous and cute.

  She pulled off carelessly messy and still looked so pulled together. My own style of dark hair cut severe across my forehead and curved above my shoulders took a cut every two weeks, like clockwork, to keep it exactly the same.

  “You know what?” Jean said. “I’ve never been in there. Is that strange?”

  “We’ve lived here all our lives. Everything’s strange. And of course you’ve been here.”

  “The viewpoint—sure. But I’ve never been in that bathroom.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never been in it either,” I said.

  As kids we’d practically run wild over and under every inch of the town, bay, cliffs, and sands. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember ever setting foot in this particular bathroom.

  “Spell?” Jean suggested. “A warding of some kind, maybe? Making us ignore the place? Making us avoid it?”

  “I don’t feel any magic,” I said.

  “Do you usually?”

  “No. Are you picking up any twinges yet?”

  She shook her head. “Think we should call Jules?”

  “She’s up to her elbows in pre-Valentine’s Day love potions, gewgaws, and love readings for the tourists,” I said. “And I’m not sure her tarot reading will tell us anything we couldn’t find out by just walking in there.”

  “So. Walk in there.”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  “Okay, have fun.”

  I frowned at her. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Nope. I am off duty. Off. I don’t have to investigate a bathroom if I don’t want to.”

  Technically, she was correct.

  “And you’re not my boss.”

  Technically, she was correct about that too. Crap.

  “And if you try calling Delaney and telling her I have to do this, I will tell Shoe where you keep your fancy chocolate stash.”

  Shoe was one of the officers we’d lured away from the town of Tillamook up north. He and his partner Hatter had worked with Dad on some of the crazy stuff that happens in a town full of gods and monsters. When we realized we needed more people on the force, they had been the first people we asked.

  Turned out Shoe had a habit of sniffing out every locked box, stashed envelope, and hidden goody or trinket in the station. It was so bad that I’d accused him of having some kind of supernatural talent for finding things.

  He’d told me he was a cop, and finding things was actually what he was trained for. He’d been smiling when he said it, a slow-moving stretch of his usually surly scowl.

  I was convinced he either saw me stash my good chocolates—the extra-dark truffles from Euphoria Chocolate Company in Eugene—or there was a snitch in the office.

  And by snitch, I meant Jean.

  My sister, Jean. Total snitch.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go into the bathroom alone. You stay here and pout because you have just discovered you don’t have a romantic bone in your body because you’ve never taken a relationship seriously before.”

  “Ouch.” She tapped the right side of her chest. “Wait…I mean…” She switched hands and tapped over her heart. “Hurtful. Right here.”

  I shook my head and opened the car door.

  “At least I have a boyfriend,” she yelled. “And, oh, yeah, I’ve been dating since high school. Unlike a sister I know who is too chicken to—”

  Nope.

  I slammed the door. I didn’t need to hear her tell me that I was closed off, cold, too aloof to date. I didn’t need her to tell me I should live a little. That I should loosen up and take chances.

  I’d taken chances in my past and it had ended… Well, not in heartache. But he’d moved overseas, and I’d never heard from him again.

  I just wasn’t the kind of person that other people wanted to settle down with. Too demanding, too orderly, too…jaded? Maybe. Too responsible and levelheaded to really engage my heart into overdrive.

  Most of my other short, failed relationships had crumbled beneath my desire for order and rules. Who could blame me for wanting at least one place in my life to be drama-free?

  Maybe I’d settle down someday when I found a nice, reasonable, calm, organized person who found comfort and happiness in a nice, reasonable, calm, organized life.

  Or maybe I’d remain happy and single. I didn’t need a boyfriend to be happy.

  Although, even I had to admit Delaney and Jean were pretty happy before they were dating. And now that they were dating, their happiness had compounded.

  For a second, just a flash, the image of Bathin flickered through my head.

  I scoffed, my breath coming out in a little cloud. Right. That demon was not boyfriend material. He was tall, dark, broody, and handsome as hell, but that was all an illusion. Beneath the smolder of all those good looks was a demon.

  A demon who had trapped Dad’s spirit, and then traded his freedom for Delaney’s soul.

  He was not only not boyfriend material, he was also my current problem.

  I wanted my sister’s soul back. I also wanted to exile Bathin from Ordinary and close any loopholes that would allowed him—the only demon we’d had in Ordinary—to ever return.

  He could take his handsome face, his wide shoulders and muscles. He could take that wicked smile and chuckle that hit notes from the bottom up, rash and full and dirty.

  Yes. He could take all those things and leave my sisters, my town, and me alone.

  The wind shoved a little harder at my back, reminding me that rain was coming.

  I walked the perimeter of the building, my boots getting wet in the grass that hadn’t been mowed since October. Nothing unusual caught my eye, so I knocked on the men’s bathroom door and called out, “Ordinary Police. Coming in.”

  I pushed open the metal door.

  A wall of urinals, a wall of sinks, a couple stalls with doors half-open. Nothing else.

  It was empty and smelled of wet concrete, salt, and cold.

  Okay, nothing going on here.

  I walked out into the wind and around to the woman’s restroom. Knocked and called out, “Ordinary Police. Coming in.”

  The metal door swung open easily. The room was identical to the men’s room, except instead of urinals, the extra space was taken up by more stalls.

  And a demon.

  The demon, a woman with long black hair, gorgeous pale skin, and eyes the color of honey, tipped her head as I stopped short.

  “A Reed sister?” Her voice was alto and sunlight. “Oh, now, isn’t this interesting?”

  Yes, it was interesting. Because one: there were no demons in Ordinary except for the very recent, very annoying Bathin. And two: why was she wearing a tailored gray business suit? Okay, and maybe one more thing: why was she tapping a pen against a clipboard?

  “Who summoned you?”

  Her smile was swift. “Oh, now, that would be spoiling the fun. Don’t you want to guess?”

  “No, I want you to tell me.”

  “I’d heard the Reeds ran a tight ship in Ordinary. I’m surprised one of you didn’t visit me years ago. I could have made so many things so much easier for you.”

  “Still waiting for my answer.
” I knew my banishment spells, knew my incantations and how to mix herbs. I’d even brought along a thing or two today, but first I wanted answers.

  “Name,” I said. “Reason you’re here.”

  “I am Zjoon.” The pen paused in the tapping. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t know who called me today. Someone is longing. Lonely. Wishful.”

  My heart thumped a little louder with each statement, but I was good at ignoring my heart. She, however, was paying attention.

  “Was it you, Reed? Is your heart confused? Is your mind cloudy? Are you searching for something you are afraid you’ll never find?”

  She didn’t move, didn’t take one step away from where she was positioned in the middle of the room. Something about that niggled at the back of my mind, and I did a quick scan of the room to see what bothered me about all this.

  Why was she so still? Could she be a projection?

  No, I could see the steam that rose off her body as she tapped the pen. She was a very solid demon, but not as good at hiding her nature as Bathin was at hiding his. She was hot under the illusion of skin she wore, steaming in the chilly February weather.

  The scent of heated roses with just a hint of brimstone wafted off her skin.

  “You’re not allowed in Ordinary, Zjoon,” I said. “No demon is allowed in Ordinary.”

  She blinked, her eyebrows drawn up. “Need I remind you that Ordinary already has a demon in it?”

  She knew that? She wasn’t supposed to know that. We were pretty sure Bathin was hiding out in Ordinary. Trying to fly under the notice of his own kind.

  “Oh, the prince thinks he hides, but I can feel him. Can feel his power. He has been near you, hasn’t he? What a pleasant turn of events.”

  She clicked the pen, then pointed it at me. “You feel him too, don’t you, Reed? His presence, strong and burning. A fire you long to touch even as you fear the burn. He stirs you. Calls to your every heartbeat. Even as your mind tells you to run, run, run.”