Page 3 of Sigils & Spells

Yeah. He is too weird.

I am definitely not going to call him.

But I tuck the card into the pocket of my jeans before I get back to work.

CHAPTER2

ANGEL RODRIGUEZ

This is it,I tell myself as I take a deep breath. I’ve tried everything else. No matter what people say about the economy, it doesn’t change the fact that the minute someone looks at me, the minute they see the tattoos and my bronze skin, they’ve made up their minds. And even if they hadn’t, the second they see the nameRodriguezon any application, they close up.

Never mind the fact my family’s been in this country legally since before I was born, I get the cold shoulder in just about every interview. I’m not quite Mexican enough to get the ‘diversity’ hire, and I’m not quite white enough to be a shoo-in. But that’s pretty much the way it’s always been for me. I don’t fit in anywhere, and no one ever gives me a chance. I think of my mother and what she would say if she knew what I was doing. I can hear the disappointment in her voice in my head even now, telling me not to stoop to this level. But I don’t really have another choice. After she passed away, the medical bills were astronomical, and on top of that, Papa got sick and hasn’t been able to return to the factory. He’s too young to retire, and sickness and accident leave only go so far.

I’m doing this for them. Mama, Papa. My family.

I knock on the door, my heart racing in my chest. Something skitters along the alleyway walls beside me, and I shiver.

My whole life I’ve been told to stay out of the warehouse district. Off the streets.

But desperate times call for desperate measures.

When the door opens, I see a tall, languid-looking asshole taking a puff off his cigarette. His skin is leathery, and his eyes glassy.

“Whatchu want?” he asks as he blows out a puff of smoke. I stand tall, trying to appear as confident as ever.

“I’m here to see Ivan Cambridge about the security position.”

The man looks me over for a moment with a calculating glare.

“You gots any experience with security detail, kid?” he asks with a sigh. I shake my head.

“I’m a black belt in karate, and I have firearms training,” I say proudly, even though I know it’s inflated. I dropped out of karate after my mother passed away and never actually got my black belt. My firearms training isn’t much more than target practice in the woods with my dad, but I’m not inept. I never missed my targets.

“Don’t suppose you’ll be doing any kung-fu fighting, but what the hell do I know,” he says as he waves me in.

“Come on in.” He holds the door open for me. I follow him through the steel door, and immediately I am hit with the smell of bleach. The inside of the building is dark, the walls are distressed with peeled paint, and the fluorescent lights above me flicker, casting an ominous glow over everything. We pass several doors—cells—that are lit up, and I get a strange feeling. My skin prickles with goosebumps, and I can hear Mama on my shoulder telling me this is a bad idea. I don’t get a chance to look in any of the windows or the doors, but I get the feeling I probably don’t want to see what's in them. It’s better if I don’t know, plausible deniability and all.

I’m not stupid. I know Ivan Cambridge is bad news. Though no one can prove it, it’s not unknown throughout the streets that he runs this part of town, plus I hear the rumors about him. That all the drugs and weapon smuggling is just a front for his science experiments. Guy thinks he’s the next Victor Frankenstein or some shit. But when my neighbor, Quincy—or as we all call him, Q— said he’d brought home enough money in one week to buy a brand-new Honda Civic running deliveries, I knew I needed in. That kind of money could help us finally find a way out of the mountain of debt that’s been covering us for the last two years. Q told me Ivan was looking for a bodyguard, and if I wanted, he’d get me a meeting with him. How could I say no to that kind of opportunity?

We finally come to a room that is bright and looks like a doctor’s waiting room. Only there are very few chairs, and certainly not any beautiful secretaries behind the empty window.

The man takes another drag on his cigarette, blowing it out slowly.

“Mr. Cambridge, I’ll be right with you,” he says eerily as he leaves me sitting alone in the oversaturated light to contemplate my life’s choices. Just as I delve into my murky thoughts, the door swings open and a beautiful, young blond woman enters the room. She’s dressed in a colorful skirt, her bright eyes dancing with alarm as if she, too, is contemplating her life’s choices. She takes a seat next to me, as there are only three chairs in the room.

“You here for the security position too?” I say, if only to break the ice. She grabs her purse, clutching it to her chest as she turns towards me.

“No, I’m uh here for … some other position, actually.”

“Magic, huh? You don’t look like abrujato me,” I say, realizing how shitty that sounds the moment I say it. As if some doe-eyed blonde with perfectly pouty lips isn’t capable of spellbinding feats just because she doesn’t have a long nose and doesn’t cackle or some shit.

“Yeah, well, on most days I don’t feel like abrujaeither, but Ivan told me he might have a position that could help me put my powers to better use.”

“You met Ivan Cambridge?” I ask, dumbfounded. She smiles and nods.

“Yes.”

“I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but youdoknow who he is, right? What he’s about?”

---