Page 3 of Obsession

“That good, huh?”

“Have you heard from Aunt Callie?” I change the subject.

“She texted me last night that she would be off-line for the rest of her trip.” Aunt Callie left for a women’s-only meditation retreat soon after the whole New Life Spiritual Center thing went down. She didn’t say, but I suspect unwittingly dating a murderous angel has messed with her head. “She better not come back with another no-count man in tow,” Grandma mutters.

Holding up my hands in a surrender motion, I walk to my office—also known as an oversized storage closet with a messy desk shoved inside. The day-to-day running of a magic shop isn’t nearly as magical as one might think. I enter some invoices and send an email to our new accountant, since our old accountant is housed in a secure mental health facility. The little energy vamp can rot there as far as I’m concerned.

Grabbing my phone, I text my new best friend, Charlotte Patel.

Me: Do you believe some stones are better left unturned?

Charlotte: The problem is you don’t know whether the stone should’ve remained unturned until you’ve already turned it over. Like in The Matrix, where Neo chooses the red pill. He can’t unchoose it once his eyes are opened. But if he would’ve chosen the blue pill, then he’d never have known the truth of his reality.

Me: Never seen it.

Charlotte: What?!? How is that possible? As soon as finals are over, I’m implementing a mandatory movie night.

Me: Sounds good. I miss you!

Charlotte: Back at you! I’m sorry, I know I’ve been MIA. Lockdown study mode. Counting down the days to graduation!

The door chimes, and I hustle to the front to find Florence Ingram and Amelia Hayes—two witches in our circle. “Where is that new beau of yours?” Florence asks, adjusting the huge diamond tennis bracelet on her left wrist with her perfectly manicured nails. Florence is of the opinion that less isn’t more, it’s just less. And she is never caught with less than five carats of bling adorning some part of her body. A true southern lady, she has her blonde hair perfectly coiffed and would never be caught dead in anything other than her Sunday best.

“Vivian filled us in on all the goings-on,” Amelia stage-whispers in a conspiratorial tone. “My, what an exciting time you’ve had.” An absolute knockout in her heyday, Amelia’s still lovely with raven-black hair that she keeps religiously coiled and coifed. I think both Amelia and Florence are around Grandma’s age, but it’s hard to say for certain. Neither woman will divulge her age, and good Goddess, I’m not fool enough to ask.

“Amelia, it reminds me of our cruise we took back in the late eighties, when a tropical storm nearly hit us and we were stranded in Mexico for two weeks. What was your gentleman friend’s name? Julio?” Florence asks, feigning innocence.

“Don’t be tacky,” Amelia scoffs. “You’re spending too much time around Vivian.” She looks at me sheepishly. “No offense, dear.”

“None taken.” I shrug.

“So, where is Damion?” Amelia asks, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. She likes to pretend she’s not as big a gossip as Florence, but she’s not fooling anyone.

“He’s working.” Kind of. He sent me this earlier:

Damion: She’s a beautiful but cautious witch. He’s a sexy but reckless Cambion. He possesses her, she helps free him. Ladies and gentlemen, we are team Daubry of next season’s House Guest. Oh, and my girlfriend has a hot bod and looks great in a bikini.

Damion: So what do you think of the pitch?

I laughed out loud and received a few quizzical looks from customers. And then I secretly preened because Damion called me his girlfriend.

Me: Needs work. The only thing reckless about you is your driving.

Damion: Don’t forget about your bikini pics. When would you like to schedule your photo shoot? My camera’s ready when you are.

When Damion possessed me, he sent me a barrage of seduction dreams. This one in particular was us on a private island with me in a skimpy bikini. No, I didn’t let him take pictures of me, in a dream or otherwise, thank you very much.

Me: You are a dirty, dirty demon. Get back to work.

“What are we talking about?” Grandma joins us, handing me a cup of tea.

“Aubry’s beau,” Florence says excitedly.

“You know I played matchmaker with those two. Aubry’s so hardheaded, she’d have never come around, otherwise,” Grandma announces.

“It was your romantic Jackson itinerary that really sealed the deal,” I smartly reply, blowing on my steaming cup. While I was busy trying to get myself and Damion unbound, Grandma was busy with “showmance” training and planning romantic itineraries. We clearly had different priorities.

“Of course it was. That reminds me, when are the two of you going to take another romantic weekend? I’m thinking New Orleans.” As much as I want to tell Grandma to butt out, I wouldn’t mind a weekend in New Orleans with Damion one little bit.

---