Page 5 of My Blind Date is a Warlock

He was tall, maybe around the six-three or six-four mark, with the body and build of a soldier. He had inky black hair, a shade or two darker than mine, cropped short on the sides and left longer on the top. His hair was a disheveled mess, as if he’d been running his fingers through it constantly. He filled up his distressed Diesel jeans like Henry Cavil in his Witcher leather pants. I actually had to gulp back the saliva pooling in my mouth before I made a fool of myself and drooled right there and then. The warlock cleared his throat in an exaggerated cough, his blue-green eyes—startling me in their likeness to Chairman Meow’s—sparkled with amusement. There were three alluring beauty spots right below his left eye, lining up in a curved line like a constellation. My fingers itched so badly with the need to touch them that I had to clench my hands into tight fists to stop myself from doing something so irrational.

My face heated up at being caught casually checking him out, the pit of my stomach getting warmer and bubbling up with anticipation.

“The name’s Jacob—Jacob Buchanan. I’m here to collect my great-great-grandfather’s Book of Shadows. You called to tell me you’d managed to locate it,” he explained when I cocked my head in confusion. “You are Beverly Barnes, aren’t you? I admit you’re nothing like I expected. From what my colleague told me about you, I thought you’d be…well, older. And pardon me for asking, but you are a witch, right?”

And here it comes, I thought bitterly. I tipped my chin up in a challenging gesture and folded my arms across my chest. “Yes, I am. A witch, that is, not Beverley, that’s my grandmother. Why do you ask?”

Jacob scrubbed a hand across his stubbled jaw, the grooved V between his eyes getting deeper. “Well, it’s…it’s just that you don’t feel much like a witch. I can barely feel your power.” He laughed nervously and awkwardly trailed off when he noticed my nostrils flaring and the deep breath I took to calm myself down. “May I have your name then, Miss Barnes, or is it Mrs.?”

“You can call me Sophia.” With that, I turned my back on him and went behind the counter to search for his Book of Shadows. His low chuckle followed me, its phantom fingers curling around me and taunting me to take a peek back at him.

“You’ve been brushing up on your faerie etiquette, I see. But I assure you, my lady, I am not of the fae courts, nor do I have any allegiance to the great old one. You do not have to worry about my intentions.” His footsteps were slow and measured as he came to stand in front of the counter and rooted through the pile of book orders that were waiting to be picked up by their owners.

“There’s always something to be worried about with your kind,” I called up from where I was crouched and almost fell flat on my butt when his head popped up over the counter.

He smirked. “What do you mean ‘my kind’?”

“Warlocks. Your book’s not here. I’ll have to search for it in the back. You mind hanging out here for a bit while I go have a look?”

“What do you have against warlocks?” Jacob asked instead of answering, grabbing me by the wrist before I could walk away. The look in his eyes reminded me of the one an old friend of mine used to get whenever there was a problem she couldn’t wait to get her hands on and unravel piece by piece. Of course, the only problems she cared about were complicated mathematical equations, the kind where numbers were barely involved and everything was x’s and y’s and a couple of Greek letters. Reina was a brilliant mathematician and physicist, and the last time we talked, she was on track to become an associate professor at NYU.

Snatching my hand back, I asked him to have a seat on one of the couches while I went in search of his stupid book. The sooner I found it, the sooner he’d be out of my hair and this feeling of being tipped off my equilibrium would go away. I searched everywhere for the Book Shadows in the storeroom. I’d seen it listed in the store’s database and saw the description listed under the name Tiberius Buchanan. But there were no sheepskin leather-bound journals with his name embossed on them. Nor were there any journals lying around bearing the mark of Cernuous, the horned god, anywhere. I looked in Gran’s closet-sized office that she barely used. Her desk was empty save for a pad of sticky notes and a Victorian-style handheld mirror. I didn’t find anything in her desk drawers either, or the filing cabinet.

“Seriously, Gran, if you knew the guy was coming in today you could have at least placed the journal with the rest,” I huffed, twirling the ring on my thumb around with my finger, my eyes flicking around the small office for any hint of the book.

Jacob was nowhere to be seen when I stepped back into the main store, but his messenger bag was lying on the couch. A few teen boys I recognized were gathered around the comic book section. “Hey, have you guys seen a tall, dark-haired guy around here somewhere?” I called out. They all shook their heads and I was about to go look for him outside when he came back around, two grimoires and a Book of Shadows in hand.

“You guys have quite the collection back there. I felt like a kid in a candy store, spoiled for choice. It was tough call, picking which books to buy,” he gushed, eyes gleaming and a light flush spreading across his defined cheekbones.

“Uh-huh. Look, I couldn’t find your grandfather’s Book of Shadows—”

“Great-great-grandfather actually. Tiberius Buchanan. Ever heard of him? I’m told he was quite the notorious warlock back in his day,” Jacob started to say, and I could tell he was about to go on a tirade, so I nipped it in the bud.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m going to call my grandmother and ask her about it. I just wanted to let you know what's going on. You can go back to your candyland or whatever while I place the call.”

“So, is it warlocks in general you don’t like? Or is this some kind of special welcome just for me?”

“You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you can figure it out,” I replied, dialing Gran’s number on the store’s landline. Instead of going back to explore the bevy of magical texts at his disposal, Jacob remained where he was, the two of us staring awkwardly at each other while her phone rang and rang and rang until her voicemail picked up. I tried a second time and still no answer. “Crap, she must be preparing for the solstice event. I’ll swing by her place tonight and ask her about it. You don’t mind coming back tomorrow, do you?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping to grab the book and head back to Boston. Besides, if the rest of the town is as welcoming as you, I shudder to think what the room service is like in the hotel I spotted on the drive up here.” He tried his charming smile on me again. I had to give the guy some credit, he did not wither away from my glare as easily as other people did when they were being stupid.

“The Scarlet Season has offered top-notch hospitable service for almost three generations. They are head and shoulders above any of the fancy hotels out there. You can check the reviews online if you like,” I deadpanned. Jacob sighed, running a hand through his hair. Some of the inky strands poked out at odd angles like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Can’t you just give me Beverley’s home address and I’ll pick up the book for myself?”

“No way in hell I’m giving out Gran’s address to a stranger. Didn’t your mother teach you that good things come to those who wait? And it’s not like you’ll make it to Boston in a few hours. Why not rest, pick up your book in the morning, and then you can be on your merry way?”

“What makes you think I don’t have a traveling orb or a teleportation spell in my arsenal? I could be back in Boston in a tick and sleeping in my own bed by tonight. Heaven knows I’ve had enough of hotel rooms to last me a lifetime.”

“Dude, you literally just said you have to drive back to Boston. Go book a room at the hotel just in case. I’ll keep trying to reach my grandmother and if I can’t, I’ll see her tonight and tell her that you stopped by.” The bottom of my left eye twitched as we had a stare off in the middle of the store, Jacob’s blue-green eyes flickering between mine as if he was trying to get a read on me.

This would have been the part where I snapped at him and threatened to forcibly throw him out. Most of the time, I was able to hide my intense dislike for warlocks and treat them with some modicum of civility. But Jacob Buchanan made my skin itch with his mere presence. Instead of hurrying him along and breaking the stare-off, I engaged him in this childish game, neither one of us daring to blink first.

Curiosity morphed into quiet laughter, reflected in his eyes and the appearance of light laugh lines around his mouth. Who knows how long we would have been staring at each other like idiots if the group of boys didn’t burst through the bubble we’d enveloped ourselves in.

“So, can we pay for this or…” one of them asked after clearing his throat rather loudly and holding out the ninety-first and ninety-second volumes of One Piece, a Japanese manga. I blinked at them in confusion, feeling lost for a moment and wondering what they were talking about until the haze wrapped around my brain cleared out.

“Sure,” I chirped with false cheer and gestured for Jacob to move out of the way. “Do you mind? I have paying customers to attend to.”

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