Veronica the witch looked out the panorama window. From the apartment, she had a night time view where the never ending flow of cars created two red and yellow strands, like moving, glowing pearl necklaces on the 80-freeway. The city glimmered, but she preferred the spectacle of car lights any day.
The go-between shifted in his seat in the leather couch.
Veronica preferred leather for the simple reason it worked as a loud tattle-tale for unease. She turned and smiled at Mr. Beresford, an old friend of her father's and the worst kind of bearer of bad news. He was bald on top with a few greasy strands to announce that he had not gone bald without a fight. There was thin grey braided rat tail dangling limply from the back of his head down to below his shoulders. He wore steel rimmed glasses on a soft and doughy face, a new stylish tie with a grubby brown suit and a long necklace made from redwood pearls. The worst kind, she thought, the oblivious diehard hippie coming to yap about peace, love and understanding.
Veronica hated hippies.
"The Visionary expects the stolen items to be returned of course," said Beresford.
"Of course," said Veronica.
Items? The coat and what?
Rumor had it the Visionary owned an eclectic and dangerous collection.
"He'd appreciate if the Venetian will be present at the handover," Beresford added.
"I'll see what I can do."
There was no reason for her to commit to the request until the Visionary presented witnesses who'd seen the Venetian enter her building alive. Maybe not even then.
Veronica preferred to keep the Visionary irritated, but not in rage.
She smiled at Beresford, but the smile was for the Venetian. Half in appreciation for bringing the Visionary to her doorstep begging, half in anger for putting her in danger.
The Venetian would pay for what he'd done either way.
Bereford's eyes darted away from her and he shifted uneasily. The couch groaned softly under his bony old man's ass.
"Can we decide on a time for the exchange?" Beresford said.
"It's not an exchange unless I receive something as well," she noted softly.
Beresford swallowed.
He'd been given no gifts to sweeten the deal.
No surprise.
"Tell the Visionary I expect a little payback for my prompt cooperation," said Veronica. "It will be appropriate. Just a small request. He'll understand. We're grown-ups. We don't scratch backs, we do deals."
Beresford looked at her with puppy eyes. Please don't. Please don't make me tell my master.
Veronica enjoyed watching Beresford squirm. She had squirmed under his gaze as a twelve-yearold, forced to dance naked with the other kids at her father's stupid summer solstice party. She hated hippies.
YOU ARE READING
Shifting Life
Paranormal[COMPLETE] Magic is all about the rules. You mess up, you fix it. Or pay the price. Not that Jacklyn Morse has a choice. She's a new shape shifter paying the price for saving a notorious thief who is as hot as the supernatural loot he's stolen. To J...
