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  "Pissed," Shaw automatically said. "Pissed." Jeremy didn't like to curse so he came up with these strange, super prim sounding words to avoid saying something inappropriate. Words like "aggrieved" for angry or "manure" for shit. It was exhausting. Sometimes in life all you needed was to throw down a few F bombs and all was right with the world. The fact that Jeremy still continued trying not to curse was to his credit, but it drove Shaw absolutely bananas. Not that Shaw ever threw down a few of anything. His entire vocabulary could sometimes exist in curse words. There was nothing he liked more than cursing like a sailor, even when he wasn't angry.

  "I'm not going to say that," Jeremy said, just like he always said. "Aggrieved," he reiterated. "The husband was aggrieved."

  "So what happened?" I asked so Shaw wouldn't go off on one of his tangents about the beauty of a cleverly laid epithet.

  "I stayed while he tended to his wife. She apologized but told me all of her visions came to pass, and then she cried because she realized I was a dryad." He paused and frowned. "Then her husband punched me in the face for getting her all worked up and screamed how I had made a pregnant lady faint."

  I blinked. "She was pregnant?"

  "Oh yes. Quite so. Large and round as a beach ball, but I failed to notice right away because I was trying to get my camera back. Before I could skedaddle, she touched me and it was all over."

  "So now you're going to die," Shaw said in a flat, emotionless tone.

  "I'm afraid so."

  Shaw slammed his hand down on the table. "You're fucking afraid so?" he asked. "That's all?"

  Jeremy's steady gaze met Shaw's. "We are bound to our trees. It's the way of it. Now please, let's all calm down and discuss why we're here today." Shaw opened his mouth to rail again, but I placed a hand on his arm and gave my head a shake.

  We could talk about this later. We needed to give Jeremy time to process what was going to happen to him. Or what he thought was going to happen. None of us would stand so idly by and allow him to die.

  "So what did they say?" I asked, finally taking a sip of my coffee. I turned and gave a mocking salute with the cup to the goth barista and she returned it with double middle fingers this time. A snort of laughter escaped me before I could help it. She certainly was a lot more entertaining than the eager to please one.

  "Apparently, several months ago, the woman woke up in the middle of the night to an apocalyptic vision. Whatever it was she saw, it was a lot worse than what's swirling over our heads right now. The camera caught her telephone conversation with her friend."

  I set my mug down at that. "What kind of camera do you have?" Being able to record a telephone conversation meant he had listening devices set up. Somewhere.

  Jeremy looked chagrined. "Relax. I told the husband where all the bugs were and he removed them."

  "Was this before or after he punched you?" Shaw asked.

  Jeremy glared. "Anyhow, the woman had a vision of a rift opening up above our heads. But what she saw versus what's actually happening is different. We know there are rumors of people seeing things come out, but we don't know if that's substantiated or just wild gossip."

  I thought about the storm. It didn't look like it was trying to harm anyone. Right now.

  "Was there anything else?" I asked.

  Jeremy nodded. "What she saw seemed bad. Like end of world bad. When I questioned her about it, she said that things could always change depending upon one's decisions. I don't know whose decision it was to open up a rift right above our heads, but she said we could avoid the worst of it if we acted proactively."

  "I don't even know what that means," Shaw said and stared at Jeremy like he was nuts.

  "Me neither," he admitted. "But the woman also said that not everything was going to come out of the sky. She made it sound almost like an invasion of some sort. Whatever is about to happen, it isn't going to be pretty."

  I sat back in my chair and pondered his words. "Did she say anything else?"

  "Something about the necromancer trying to stop it." Jeremy shrugged. "I assume she meant Helen, but I'm not sure about it. This town keeps growing at a rapid pace. Who knows how many necros we have here now?"

  "Just Helen," Shaw said. "Death is business and her business is booming. Hank says she's booked solid for the next two years."

  Hank owned one of the nurseries in Midnight Cove. I never knew a ghoul with a green thumb like his, but he made gardening look like child's play. He was responsible for the landscaping around this building and most of the lots in and around the city. It was an odd pairing that. A man who made things live and a girl who played with dead things.

  Though Hank would surely punch me if I thought of his wife that way out loud. I decided to change the subject.

  "I saw Portia Kadish this morning."

  Coffee spewed from Jeremy's mouth. He hunched over, coughing out of control.

  Shaw stared at me like I'd just confessed I wanted to be a monk. "Portia Kadish? The Portia Kadish?"

  I punched him in the arm lightly. He always had a thing for blondes. "That's the one."

  Jeremy was finally able to compose himself. "And what did she want?"

  "She wants to find me a wife."

  Silence fell. I sipped my coffee silently.

  "Seriously, Sterling. What did she want?"

  "Exactly what I said. She wants to find me a wife."

  Jeremy rubbed the bottom of his chin. "And did you toss her out on her keister?"

  I shook my head slowly. "No. I bargained."

  Shaw's gaze narrowed. "You… bargained?"

  "Yup."

  "For what?" Jeremy asked, his eyes curious and a little concerned.

  "For a docile, biddable wife."

  Shaw pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Even Jeremy seem amused. "And how exactly did she take that?"

  I shrugged. "She offered to find me one."

  Jeremy's gaze sharpened. "And?"

  "As long as I went out on one date with two women she chose."

  "That's how they get ya," Shaw quipped.

  "Nah," I said. "This is an easy win. I go out on a date with the woman she chooses all the while knowing I’ll just pick the other. When the time is up, I'll drop the baggage and keep the easy one."

  Jeremy winced at my words. "If you think that's true, you're more of a fool than I ever thought you were."

  His words stung a little. "I'm no fool," I assured him.

  "We're all fools in matters of the heart," Jeremy said quietly.

  I raised my hands up. "Okay, Mr. Miyagi. Thanks for the advice."

  Shaw's expression was rarely serious, but it was serious now. "Don't take this lightly, Sterling. Portia is a master of manipulation and she has a 100% success rate when it comes to these things. If she offered you such a generous deal, she knows something you don't."

  I blew Shaw off, but both of their words left me with an unsettled feeling in my stomach. Did Portia know something I didn't? And how was it possible if I didn't want a mate for someone to force one on me? You couldn't make someone fall in love, could you? These were the questions I didn't know the answer to, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer at all. Because the more I thought about the women she would choose for me, the more I felt sick over it.

  "It will be fine. No one is going to make me marry someone I don't want to."

  A long look passed between my friends. Neither one of them believed me.

  "I'm serious!" I said, aggravation seeping through my words. "I'll marry someone I think is suitable, not some random woman she throws at me."

  "We know you think this is true," Jeremy said quietly. "But mark my words. Portia won't make you do anything you don't want to. Think of a dessert you love. One you can't resist walking by without eating the whole thing. That's what she's going to do to you. You're going to want the punishment by the time she's done. I can guarantee you there's a huge difference between a plate of sugar cookies and a banana cream pie cheesecake. And we all know
how much you love bananas."

  Five

  Maron

  I was pretty sure I was experiencing some kind of existential crisis. A few days ago a letter had arrived in the mail, addressed to me directly from Portia Kadish. I spent an hour staring at it, feeling way too nervous to open it. When I finally did, I realized she'd already gotten to work. She thanked me for my detailed letter and explained she'd already found five men, all with strong chances of being a suitable match for me. She did go on to disclose that only one of these men would be my soulmate so it would be in my best interest to take each date as seriously as I could.

  So I did my best. I dressed carefully each time I had to go out. The first time I wore a navy blue dress with heels that accentuated my thin, lightly muscled calves. I took extra care with my makeup and brushed my long, red hair until it shone. He noticed absolutely none of it, but did show a disturbing inclination toward soup of all forms. When he finished slurping down his tomato basil, he gave me a cursory up and down glance and declared me "presentable". If I didn't have such a strong aversion to meat, I'm pretty sure I would have unhinged my jaw and swallowed him whole. However, I tried to heed Portia's words and gave it my best college try. Things were starting to look up when he announced he was struggling with an addiction to human flesh. When I questioned him about it, he merely shrugged and mentioned he was seeing a therapist three times a week over it.

  At that point, I told him three times a week seemed a little excessive. This was when his eyes did this weird ass dilation thing and his nostrils flared like he was scenting me.

  I gently reminded him I was not a human and that I would be leaving now. He acted like he was mortally offended and pronounced that since he'd spent fifty bucks on my meal, he was entitled to get to at least third base.

  Even though I was raised an Archer and had been constantly taught that losing my temper was no way to get things done, I still picked up the silver gravy boat, tilted it and dumped it right onto his flesh-eating head. "Lose my number," I hissed to him as the last of the congealing brown goo had slid out of the container. I inclined my head to my waiter who gave me a wide grin, so I slipped a fifty in his hand on my way past.

  "You're welcome back here any time, ma'am."

  I gave him a nod and sailed out the door.

  The second date wasn't too much better, although there were no gravy boats involved that time. Everything started off pretty well. I could tell by the smell of him he was a human, though he did smell a little off to me, but I couldn't tell what was causing it. He sort of reminded me of Rick Moranis from Ghostbusters. A little on the short and compact side, he had wild brown hair and a nose just a smidge too large for his face. But his smile was nice, and he held the door for me like a gentleman. He asked me questions about myself and didn't flinch or wince when I explained who I was. Though he did wonder out loud why I'd date a human. At that I had to laugh and told him since Portia was the one who had set us up, I would date whoever she chose.

  He visibly paled at that and adjusted his collar. Her name struck fear into a lot of people. Good to know the humans weren't immune to it. The night began to skid off the rails a little bit after he had three margaritas. My magic number was way higher than that, but I had a vamp metabolism so alcohol didn't affect me the same way.

  During a rambling soliloquy, fueled by nervous drinking behavior, he confessed to being a scientist. I thought it was cool, at first, because science, right? But as he kept talking and kept shoving margaritas down his gullet, I became less sure. He admitted to experimenting on paranormals. When I questioned why in the world he would do that, he waved off my concerns with a hand and insisted he had signed consent agreements with all of them.

  At that point, I pushed away the rest of my meal and listened to him ramble. At first not a lot of it made sense and I lamented the fact that he wasn't a terrible looking guy and he treated our waiter all right, but he did appear, sadly, to be an alcoholic. Plus, what kind of guy got drunk on margaritas on the first date? He couldn't choose something a little more manly, like whiskey on the rocks or something?

  But a few minutes later, his ramblings got a little more intense. I sat forward and really did my best to listen to his slurring accomplishments.

  "And it was only after I combined those two DNA strands that something amazing happened," he said.

  My heart sank a little. I wasn't a religious person, no vampires really were, but even I believed screwing with nature was only going to end up in trouble. "Oh?" I asked mildly. "What was it?"

  He sat back in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee which jarred our table and sent wine splashing onto the pristine tablecloth. "I created something new," he said, a self-satisfied smile appearing crookedly on his face.

  "New?" I asked politely, though my stomach lurched in fear.

  "Well," he said with a shrug, "it was new. Turned out it didn't live for more than a couple of minutes." He lifted his eyes heavenward, a fanatical gleam shining in them. "But while it did live, it tore a hole in the wall of my lab with..." He paused and stared at me expectantly.

  "With?" I asked politely.

  "Laser beams," he said matter-of-factly.

  "Laser beams," I echoed.

  "Yup. From its eyes."

  "Laser beam eyes."

  "Uh huh." He pulled out his cellphone and I watched as he fumbled it a couple of times before he unlocked it and began to scroll through his pictures. "Here," he slurred and shoved the phone in my face.

  There was a massive round hole in the back of a room. Shattered glass littered the floor.

  "But it died?" I asked.

  He nodded. "Unfortunately," he said, his voice morose, as if he'd lost a child rather than a patchwork monster.

  "Terrible," I said in a commiserating voice. I made eye contact with our waiter and he nodded discreetly. There was no way I was paying for this dinner.

  A diabolical laugh came from my date, startling me. I jumped in my seat.

  "I can't wait to show this town what I can do!" he said as he rubbed his hands together. "Once I figure this out, I'll be able to create whatever kind of creature I want!"

  I got out of my seat feeling creeped out beyond words. "I wish you the best," I said politely, but he was too busy cackling to hear me. I walked over to the waiter, shoved a $10 bill in his hand, and pulled up my taxi app. There was a car right around the corner so I selected it and made my way out the door.

  I figured it would take awhile before the dude even realized I was gone, but just to be safe, I put the Midnight Cove authorities on speed dial.

  As soon as the cab pulled in, I jumped in and rattled off my address. When we pulled away from the curb, I contacted the police anyway to tell them about my date's illegal DNA activities. Experiments were harshly regulated in this town as pretty much everything else was, too. You couldn't do much without Portia finding out about it, but this one I think must have missed her far-reaching gaze.

  Not for long.

  With a sigh, I rested my head against the seat rest and shut my eyes as the driver took me home.

  Surely love couldn't be this hard to find?

  Six

  Sterling

  This was no banana cheesecake standing in front of me. If it was, it was one that had been left in the oven too long. I didn't like redheads. Period. And I especially took offense to being forced to go out tonight of all nights. It was the evening of the Anonotheories podcast, and it was supposed to be a good one. Tonight was the first podcast after a six month break while the founders went exploring through a remote area overseas looking for the wreckage of a UFO. There was nothing overtly weird about that, considering every conspiracy theorist has, at one time, been convinced they could find alien wreckage, but this one was supposedly shot down by a medieval ballista during a Renaissance Festival.

  It was so outrageous that it could be real, thus my desire to sit at home in my pajamas listening to it instead of going on this stupid date. This was one of two, and
I wasn't sure this woman was the vapid one or if she was the "real" one I was supposed to take seriously. I had news for both Portia and this woman... Maron was her name. First of all, weird ass name. Second, the sooner I got out of this date, the sooner I could get home and listen to Anonotheory.

  A plan began brewing in my head, and I knew it was a bad idea as soon as it coalesced, but I couldn't help myself. I'd been waiting six months for this.

  Maron was growing impatient. I could see it in the set of her jaw and the way her small foot kept tapping against the floor. If I just turned around right now and walked out the door, she would never know I was here.

  I sighed. I could do that, but I would lose manly points. No, I could do something even better. I could make this date so terrible, Maron would never want to see me again.

  Just from looking at the way her lips were pursing in impatience, I could tell she wasn't the vapid one, so I knew I wouldn’t see her again anyway. I let out an annoyed huff of breath and crossed the restaurant to introduce myself. When she saw me, one light auburn eyebrow went up in annoyance.

  Not exactly the kind of look I was used to getting from the opposite sex. I slapped on my most disarming grin and stuck out my hand. "Sterling," I said. "Sterling Luna."

  "Like Bond?" she asked, straightfaced. "James Bond?"

  I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, so I didn't say anything.

  She let out a soft laugh and took my hand in hers. "Maron," she said. "Maron Archer."

  I suspected she was making fun of me, but I couldn't tell how. Her hand was small and warm and surprisingly didn't feel bad in my own.

  But that hair.

  I kept looking at it.

  She gave me a curious look but shook her head after a moment and walked over to the hostess stand. "I apologize for my lateness," she said to the woman standing behind a pedestal. "Unfortunately, I was waiting on someone who is not as time conscious as I am."

  My jaw snapped shut in annoyance. The hostess gave me a cursory glance filled with barely concealed annoyance. "No problem, Miss Archer, I totally understand." The smile she gave to my date was completely genuine. The one she gave to me was stiff.