Chapter 1: Whichever Way You Can
Alexis's POV
"What is it you're looking for in an applicant exactly?" the handsome wolf shifter in front of me asked, with more than a touch of arrogance in his voice. "Why, precisely, am I here?"
He was muscled and lean, with longish dark hair and an intensity to his emerald eyes that made me feel as if I were the one being interviewed instead of the other way around. His resume informed me that his name was Rick. Rick Knight. And Rick sat in that chair as if it were somehow a throne and not a folding chair from the office supply store down the street, purchased hastily for this purpose after what happened last week.
"If you need to ask," I found myself replying more brusquely than I intended, "then maybe this gig isn't for you."
I was tired, and I was worried. Two things I hated to feel, especially the latter. I took a sip of coffee from my favorite mug that read, - Witchever Way You Can - and sighed, reminding myself that I needed help - no matter how much I despised the idea. My life, in all likelihood, depended upon it. A fact that did absolutely nothing to improve my mood.
"Alexis, may I call you Alexis? I was only asking since your ad read, bodyguard AND assistant," Rick replied smoothly, apparently not at all bothered by my terse response. "I was just wondering what the job entailed. It's an unusual combination, which explains why I applied. That is what I know. I'd like to hear more about why you responded, if it's not too much trouble."
Arrogant. This man was arrogant. And handsome. And he was now conducting my interview for me. Although to be fair, I wasn't doing such a great job anyway. I'd been up all night trying to find a way out of my current predicament, and going through with hiring someone to protect me was still the only solution I'd found. I blew a stray strand of dark hair that had escaped my messy bun out of my eyes and adjusted my glasses. I needed to focus. A fact not at all helped by his frustratingly seductive voice. It somehow managed to be simultaneously harsh and soothing, like the burn of good bourbon after a long day.
"Fair enough," I told him, scanning the 'Experience' section of his CV. "Yes, Alexis is fine, it's my name after all. You're a soldier, and I thought-"
"Former soldier," he quickly corrected me, a touch of annoyance in his tone now, but softened with a grin that was, to be honest, not bad. Not bad at all. Boyish and yet somehow roguishly charming. "I fought in the Great Shifter War, but that's all over now. I'm looking for something else. And this is, well, something else."
As a full-time high school English teacher and part-time monster hunter, I had seen a few things. Some of my students' writing samples were scarier than the demons I typically chased in my night job. But last week I came across something I'd never seen before. I was caught unprepared, and it had nearly killed me. My magic, white magic, wasn't enough to deal with whatever that thing was. After many sleepless nights, I concluded that I had three options to choose from, and none were particularly appealing to me.
Number 1 - Quit and confine myself to grading papers, which was not actually an option. I knew what was out there, and I wasn't going back to the relative safety of a regular life. Not when I knew I could make a difference.
Number 2 - Incorporate some black magic spells, as I'd often been advised to do. Again, not an option. It scared the hell out of me. Pun again intended.
Number 3 - Acquire some backup, so the next time that happens, if it happens, I will be ready.
As options one and two were absolutely not happening, this was option three. However, after a few minutes with THIS guy, I was starting to wonder if maybe I'd missed a fourth option. Like flinging myself off the roof of the English department.
"The job is fairly straightforward," I told him, reminding myself that this was MY interview. "You would assist me in fighting evil on a part-time basis. We would work nights, as I teach high school English during the day."
"I always suspected a few of my high school teachers were witches," he replied wryly, with an amused half-smile, "I never actually expected to find out that was true."
Oh, it was true alright. I practiced my craft, pun intended, in secret. Had for years. The school faculty never suspected that they had a white witch in their midst, and I intended to keep it that way. Some of my witch and warlock colleagues had pointed out that the days of the witch trials were long past, but I had no desire to test the supposition. Too dangerous.
"They might have been," I replied, deadpan. "In any case, what I fight can be dangerous. More dangerous than I am equipped to deal with in my current capacity."
"And what capacity is that?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. "What does that mean, exactly?"
Damn this impudent man, he was going to be difficult. Although he deserved to know what he would be getting into if he took the job. I gently massaged my temple, feeling a headache coming on.
"I'm strictly a white witch. I don't do dark spells, not ever," I told him curtly, leaving no room for argument. “It's a personal thing. And what I've come up against lately is powerful. More powerful than the usual imps and ghouls I'm used to. So I need help. I need someone with brains and brawn to help me kill it- along with whatever else I might encounter- while keeping us both alive."
His aggravatingly handsome brow furrowed as he considered the parameters I'd laid out for him. Part of me hoped he had no interest in the position. This man was trouble, I could feel it.
"And so these things that need killing, they are evil?" he asked gravely, the intensity returning to his disturbingly sharp eyes. "You're certain of that? No question at all?"
I was more than a little surprised that was his only question given what I'd just told him, but I nodded vigorously in response. It was an easy thing to answer.
"Yes, I know they are," I assured him, suppressing a shudder remembering my most recent experience. "That's why I do it. But I can't do it without help. One of those things almost killed me last week, and while I love my job, I don't intend to die doing it. That is, as you say, why you're here."
Might as well tell him the whole truth. It would not do any good to have him run away screaming at the first sight of a creepy-crawly. Although from the looks of things, this man didn't run from anything. Even when he probably should. Arrogance can be a plus, I decided. Even if he was already getting under my skin. And he WAS getting under my skin.
"Sounds good," Rick replied, rising to shake my hand. "I'll be here Monday night. Let's do this."
A feeling of unreality settled over me as I regarded this strange, handsome man and my hurriedly assembled home office. My ancient, scarred desk that I'd hauled out of storage yesterday stood sentry between us. The faint scent of fresh paint lingered from the walls I'd made Robin's egg blue. A potted fern of indeterminate origin strained toward winter sunlight spilling from the room's single window.
Was I really going to go through with this?
I took his proffered hand automatically. But when his palm touched mine, I felt a pull toward him that surprised me. His touch was electric. The contact, however brief, burned throughout my body. I was so unsettled that he had already shrugged into his black leather jacket and was almost out the door before I realized I hadn't actually made him an offer.
"Hey, I haven't hired you yet," I called to his retreating back, "we haven't agreed on anything!"
Apparently, I really DIDN'T know how to conduct a job interview. And Rick didn't know how to behave in one. Great.
"Sure we have," he replied with a wolfish grin, his annoyingly perfect teeth on full display. "I'm going to protect you, and you're going to pay me to do it. The rest is just details. See you Monday!"
I nodded and sighed, not that he saw me. He was already out the door, whistling a cheerful tune that I didn't recognize. We were either the perfect partnership, or we were completely doomed.