This Soul Magic. Michele Hauf

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      * * *

      After hanging up with my sister, I waited for Reichardt to finish dressing. The man shouldn’t cover up those washboard abs, but okay, so it was autumn and raining, and—still. It hurt my sense of wanting to drool over man muscle, but I’d have to deal. The man preferred all black clothes because he said putting colors together hurt his brain.

      Boys. Gotta love ’em.

      After he’d gotten his soul—and before his memory of being a soul bringer had been completely vanquished—Vika and I had quickly learned Reichardt kept an apartment in the fifth quarter, in the shadow of the Jardin des Plantes, and discovered it was empty: no furniture, no food, not even clothing. Just a few odd items sitting on windowsills and counters. The blue feather, a half-full bag of cat food, a yellow-cloth Jewish badge and a live sansevieria plant that looked well cared for.

      We’d also learned the entire nineteenth-century building belonged to Reichardt. The building manager had explained their beneficent owner hadn’t charged rent in over two decades. The elderly building residents, upon seeing Reichardt, had offered a “bonjour, Monsieur Reichardt,” and one had told me that while the stoic building owner never chatted, he always ensured the residents were well through a liaison who visited them monthly to check medical stats and ensure their bills were paid, and who also sent food when needed.

      I strolled my fingers along the glossy blade leaves of the sansevieria plant now. Quite the fellow, my emotionless and uncaring soul bringer.

      We’d decided Reichardt should remain at his place, because when I had suggested he move in with me, he couldn’t get around the idea of it being sinful if we were not married. The man’s morals were old-fashioned yet sweet, and I didn’t want to rush him into the twenty-first century too quickly.

      That sounded good in theory, anyway.

      “Ready!” He looked over my black-and-white polka-dotted dress and skimmed his fingers along the fringes that hemmed the skirt.

      “It’s my rock-star dress,” I said, tilting out a hip and hooking a hand akimbo. I could work a fringe like nobody’s sister.

      “But you’re not a rock star. Or are you? You’re so talented—perhaps I’ve not seen all that you can do.”

      “No, lover boy, I am not a rock star. But sometimes you gotta put on the fringe and rock out, you know?”

      “No.” He eyed me curiously.

      Poor amnesiac man. He took everything literally. It was kind of sad and yet a little fun to know I would get to teach him everything he needed to learn.

      “Stick with me, Reichardt. You’ll be rocking with the best of them soon enough. Did you ever figure out the cat food?”

      “No, but perhaps there is a stray that visits on occasion?”

      “I hope so. I love kitties. Though Salamander might be jealous if I went home smelling like another cat.” Sal was Vika’s cat, but since moving in with CJ, she’d left him behind. She never had been a cat person. “Let’s go.”

      Outside, we slid into the white hearse I drove for our cleaning business. I’d stuck a sticker that read Jiffy Clean on the trunk years ago as a joke. It annoyed Vika.

      Vika and I cleaned up dead paranormals such as slain werewolves, demons and the occasional newer vampire who didn’t completely ash at death. Couldn’t have the mortals seeing such nightmares lying about the city. Cleaning was Vika’s life. Since the rock-star thing would probably never happen and my small flower garden brought in a pitiful amount at the bazaar, I had to do something to earn a euro.

      I drove down the street toward the witch’s bazaar, a place I visited every other Saturday to buy and sell spellcraft items, pick up pointers, and chatter with fellow witches.

      “Do you have male friends?” Reichardt asked out of the blue.

      “Of course I do. A life without men is dull and a little too clean. Why do you ask?”

      “I have the feeling I should talk to a man,” he said. “To learn things that a woman can’t teach me.”

      “Like what?” I asked cheerfully, excited he was asking for knowledge.

      “Like how to get stronger, and how to treat a woman.”

      “Best way to learn that is from the source. Trust me on that one.”

      “What about how to sexually fulfill a woman?”

      My neck grew hot yet my grin may have touched both ears. I met Reichardt’s sweetly wondering gaze in the rearview mirror. “Again, the source would be your best bet.”

      He crossed his arms, uncomfortable with the suggestion. Hell, the guy could have used a male friend. Just because the best information came from the source didn’t mean it was easy to ask about the intimate stuff.

      “You remember CJ, Vika’s guy?”

      “Yes, Certainly Jones, the dark witch with the curious tattoos.”

      “Mmm, I love a tattooed man.”

      “Is that so?” Reichardt considered that one a moment. “But why is he dark?”

      “He practices dark magic to balance the light, which is what Vika and I practice. Yin and yang. It’s a karma thing.”

      “Karma is the universe, yes?”

      “Exactly.”

      “Do you think I could talk to CJ? No offense, Libby, but there are things that...come up.” He looked aside and was suddenly very interested in the door lock.

      I recalled our embrace in the kitchen when he’d gotten an erection. If the guy wanted to learn how to use that, then perhaps it was time to call in Team Man.

      “I’ll give CJ a call once we get to the bazaar. I’m sure he’d love to get together with you and talk man stuff.”

      “Thank you. I don’t mind the cleaning tasks you’ve taught me, but I feel there are more manly things I should be learning. Like how to drive this vehicle. Shouldn’t the man drive the woman?”

      “I can teach you how to drive. But let’s concentrate on getting your immediate needs met first.”

      Like learning how to please a woman, I thought with a sneaky curl of lip. I’d have this guy eating out of my hands soon enough.

      I pulled into a parking space and Reichardt got out and rushed around to my side. He opened the door, which had never once happened in my dating history. He already knew how to please a woman. What the man really needed was confidence and a sense of place in this realm.

      * * *

      The bazaar was indeed bizarre. I wandered the aisles in the small church basement—yes, the witches gathered in a former Catholic church. How about that for irony? And I did know irony, which pleased me into a grin as I passed a table featuring Charms to Devastate and Divulge.

      The room was populated СКАЧАТЬ