Page 13 of A Witch-ish Guide to Protectors and Pendulums

Predictably, he filled it.

“Did you not hear me? My sister went missing. Think I’m risking you? Your life is tied to mine. For whatever reason, the universe wants us to be together.”

For whatever reason?

How romantic.

I shut down, turning my head away to not have to look at him. “Get off me,” I said.

“What?”

“I said,get off me.” I pushed at him, my hand making contact with his rock-hard chest. It lit me up on the inside, exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

Why would the universe want us together? We didn’t even like each other. I mean, I was starting to like him, but then he had to go and open his mouth. If the universe wanted us together, they should’ve made him mute. Mute would’ve worked. Or maybe made him a French speaker. I didn’t understand French. Therefore, he’d have been able to say all the rude things in the world and I’d never have known.

Thoughts shifted behind his eyes. The frustration. He looked about a second and a half away from throttling me or kissing me.

Neither worked for me.

With his lack of concentration, I managed to roll out from under him.

“What are you doing?” he barked.

“None of your concern.” I ran my fingers through my hair, just knowing that I needed to fix my braid, and I straightened my dress. “You probably need to get back to the shop,” I said, and then I ran, heading through the store and out to my jeep.

Okay, so it wasn’t my proudest moment, and yes, I’d made a fool of myself, but honestly, something inside me withered, turning brown and ugly when he’d said “for whatever reason.”

He didn’t actually like me. He was simply drawn to me by some stupid cosmic misunderstanding. Once I reached my driveway, I hit the garage door opener and then proceeded to drive into my clean garage. I shut off the engine while the door closed.

I loved my little abode, decorated in midcentury modern. All blond woods, and instead of the traditional pink, I, of course, used lilac and the traditional teal from the time period, along with chrome accents. It made me happy. But it also felt lonely. It didn’t used to feel lonely, but Jeffery used to come around all thetime. Now, as I glanced around the empty space, I thought that maybe I needed to get another pet. One that liked my attention. Possibly a dog—no.Nota dog. A gerbil? Fish?

Something. My one requirement was that it actually had to like me. My precious kitty took care of me, but he kept himself aloof most of the time. What I craved was unconditional affection without having to bother with people, as it was clear the universe had cursed me when it came to interpersonal relationships with humans or human/death-hound hybrids, as it were.

I walked to the bathroom to fix my braid and then it hit me. I had to ask Jeffery’s mom again if she knew of any enemies Jeffrey might have had. Maybe now with the shock having worn off, she could think of someone that escaped her memory before. He never talked to me about work. He’d always said I was his safe space, where he didn’t have to think about all the crap in the world. So, could he have told his parents about someone that he chose not to tell me about? Had she ever heard of Beetle?

She answered on the second ring. “Simone,” she started. “Is everything okay?”

“No, actually. It’s not.”

“Is there something I can do?”

My opening. “Yes,” I said. “Here’s the thing. I picked up the box of personal effects like you asked and I plugged his phone in to charge, connecting it to my Wi-Fi.”

Even her breathing sounded sad. I shook it off. That was exactly why I needed her to answer my questions.

“The last several calls were from a person named Beetle. Did he ever mention a Beetle?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Never.”

“Did the police ever ask you about a person named Beetle?”

“No. We never got any kind of updates from Detectives Morgan or Shift, you know that.” —Uh, no I sure as hell didn’t— “They said they couldn’t find any leads. What kind of name is Beetle, anyway?”

Detective Shift. I never met a Detective Shift. Suddenly a horrible thought hit. The detective. The one who gave off all those bad vibes. What was his name? And here, I didn’t think the situation could get any worse. Jeffery had been killed. But somehow it kept spiraling down, down, down.

I sighed. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. What about B. el-Zebu?”

“No.”

---