Page 6 of A Soul’s Curse (Fallen Souls #1)

The vampire’s bite on my ankle throbbed like hell, but if there was any venom left, my magic would take care of that before it caused any serious damage.

I’d rub a little ointment on it later but for now, I’d just have to deal with it until the pain subsided.

At least the dizziness and blurry vision had subsided.

As I crossed the street and headed back toward Carson’s Pizza, my hair stood up on end, an uneasy feeling settling over me.

I turned around, expecting Jack or Emma to be there offering me a farewell punch to the face, but I was greeted with nothing but the whiz of a passing car.

I checked the side of the building … the only thing there a fresh coat of graffiti from vandals.

Paranoid , I told myself. Just like I had been earlier when the mutant unicorn was chasing me. I was tired, paranoid, and my mind was playing tricks on me.

“Mr. Carson?” I said as I pushed open the door.

The bell chimed at the top of it, announcing my arrival, but there was no one standing at the front counter.

“Victor?” I tried again, getting a bit worried.

Attacks like what happened to Ivy or Lucas weren’t out of the ordinary.

Over the years, a prejudice against demons and others with unsettling types of magic took hold.

Although demons took the brunt of the relentless attacks, anyone with what society deemed impure magic had a target on their back, including me, which was why so few people knew my secret.

Even though this restaurant was Mr. Carson’s pride and joy, it was in complete shambles.

Most of the tables and chairs were falling apart, sauce stains decorated the wall, and despite my best attempt to keep things clean, there was always garbage to be found somewhere.

I picked up a sheet of grease-stained newspaper, watching the old television in the far corner replaying some talk show.

I clenched the newspaper in my hand when a blond-haired pretty boy appeared on it, gloating and smiling like he was saving the world single-handedly by turning everyone against those with unacceptable magic.

“I hope you die a horrible death by a thousand paper cuts,” I muttered to the TV.

James Whitfield was the Editor-in-Chief of the local Salem newspaper, but often made appearances on television. His expertise was politics and law, and everyone seemed to be keen on getting his opinion on everything.

“Our towns and cities are becoming more dangerous by the day. What are you suggesting we do?” Rob, the middle-aged interviewer with graying hair and metal-rimmed glasses, asked his guest. He leaned back in his chair as he brushed a finger under his chin in thought.

The bell above the door chimed as a customer entered, but I didn’t look away from the television.

James’s grin started with a slight upturn of the lips, just wide enough to project friendliness without seeming overly casual or forced.

“Extra precautions need to be put into place. Companies have already started increasing interest rates on loans for high- risk business owners, and doing more thorough background checks on demons wishing to open businesses in the area. If they’re deemed a liability, then their cost of running a business should reflect that. ”

“ You’re the liability!” I screamed at the TV, crumbling up the piece of newspaper and chucking it at the screen.

“Excuse me?” a deep male voice spoke from behind me. “I’m here to pick up a pizza.”

“Oh, sorry,” I said as I turned around. “Let me go see—” I cut myself off. Blond hair. Devilish smile. Sensibly dressed. My gaze tracked back toward the TV, then to the customer.

“Oh. You have some nerve. Get the fuck out of this restaurant right now. You are not welcome here.” I was proud of myself for not screaming.

I pointed toward the door, hoping he’d go willingly on his own.

Unfortunately, James Whitfield kept his feet firmly in place, flashing me that falsified grin I’d just seen on the TV.

“That’s no way to treat a paying customer.” He tsked at me. “And from the looks of it, I’m sure this place could use all the business it can get.”

“The only reason we need the help in the first place is because of you! You and your stupid need to reform society. Do you know how many times this restaurant has been broken into? How many hours I’ve spent scrubbing off hateful slurs painted on the side of the building?

Your slander is driving businesses like this into the ground. ”

“Is something wrong, Theo?” Mr. Carson came out through the door from the back kitchen.

The older demon paused his cleaning duties to look up at me, greeting me with his tired golden eyes that somehow still carried a glimmer of friendliness.

When he went to wipe his brow, he pushed aside his shaggy, ebony hair that fell messily around his face.

He rolled his shoulder, trying to ease the tension from his aching muscles, and my rage skyrocketed seeing him so overworked.

“Everything’s fine, Mr. Carson.” I turned my attention to James. “I just stopped two thugs from ganging up on a defenseless demon, all because they said her magic was disgusting and dangerous. They got that idea from you … from your stupid preachings on TV. Are you okay with that?”

“Theo, perhaps you should head into the kitchen. There are a few pizzas that need to be finished. I’ll handle this.

” Mr. Carson set aside his broom and rounded the front counter.

“I’m sorry, sir. Things have been difficult here lately.

Forgive my employee’s rudeness. Are you here to pick up an order? ”

“Yes,” James answered with an air of arrogance. “There should be a large Meat Lover’s pizza for James Whitfield.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” I crossed my arms and ignored Vic’s order. “Are you okay with other magical beings being hurt because of your propaganda?”

“Theo—”

James held out a hand, cutting off Mr. Carson as he sighed and went to grab the reporter’s order.

“Of course not. But the fact remains that some people have frightening abilities that could level cities or unleash some unknown virus that can’t be cured.

Citizens have every right to be wary of those who harness such powerful magic.

” He gave me a sideways glance. It gave me the unsettling feeling that he somehow knew something about me and my magic ability to control death.

“I’m not trying to discriminate, I’m trying to protect them.

You must know that I’ve pioneered a number of programs to help the underrepresented people of the magic community navigate these challenges, and open businesses with the best chance at succeeding. ”

“How’s that working out?” I grumbled in a low voice as Mr. Carson slid a cardboard pizza box across the counter.

I picked it up and handed it to James. “Your pizza, sir . Now if you could kindly get the fuck out of this establishment that would be fantastic. And if you could maybe not spread rumors about demons and other dangerous magical people on your way out, it would be greatly appreciated. Have a wonderful day.” I flashed him a cheesy smile and waved as he took the pizza.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” James handed me a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Arrogant prick. Like his generous tip was going to save this business.

After James left, I went to join Mr. Carson in the kitchen, grabbing a bucket of veggies that needed to be chopped and peeled. He was stretching out a ball of pizza dough, each pull slow and deliberate as if showing the strain of his exhaustion.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carson. It’s just … I can’t believe he had the nerve to show up here like that. It’s obvious he hates demons. The word-vomit that comes out of his mouth boils my blood. I can’t stand it.”

The shop owner hummed a cheery tune, despite the fatigue in his posture and deep lines of stress around his face. His once dark-crimson skin tone, a common trait among demons, had dimmed to a more subdued shade of burnt orange over the years.

“Could have been a lot worse. At least he tipped well. You should use it to buy yourself something nice. Maybe treat that boyfriend of yours to a fancy dinner.”

I noticed Vic had been kneading the same ball of dough since I arrived in the kitchen.

“Vic, you’re over kneading the dough.” He tossed a bit of flour onto the metal table and continued kneading.

“Vic!” I said louder as he startled himself into focus. He sighed, pushing the ball of dough off to the side. “Vic, what’s wrong? Did someone break in again? Attack you? I can’t help unless you tell me what’s going on.”

A soft smile blossomed on Vic’s lips. “You’re a good kid, Theo. Too good to be a part of this mess.”

“What mess?” I asked, getting a bit worried.

“I’m sure you saw the graffiti on the side of the building.

This is the second time this month the store has been vandalized.

I called the police, but they’re tired of coming out here and despite the insurance company continuing to raise my premium, they keep coming up with excuses not to cover the damage because I’ve filed too many claims. I don’t think I can keep this place open for another month. ”

My heart sank at Vic’s words. I had nothing but the utmost respect for Mr. Carson, and it was why, despite there sometimes being consecutive weeks I never got a paycheck, I continued to stick around to help.

Demons weren’t terrible people—they were no more capable of violence or crime than any fae, vampire, shifter, or even someone without magic.

But it was hard to wipe away generations of stories depicting them as monsters, and the fact the media was embellishing the myths didn’t help.

“This is ridiculous!” Leaving behind my bucket of veggies, I stomped over to the corner of the kitchen to another metal prep table and started selecting a bunch of different jars and containers from the shelf beside it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I won’t let you shut this place down. I’m gonna do whatever I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, Mr. Carson.

” I selected a big ceramic pot from the shelf and started tossing in a bunch of powders and liquids.

Being a pizza delivery guy didn’t pay the bills, so I used my knowledge of things that typically made people hurt or sick to mix counter spells to combat the effects.

I sold remedies to avoid nicotine, like I did for George, for things like calming anxiety, reducing nausea, alleviating hangovers, and healing minor wounds.

People loved them because I’d make them into candies or teas that were much more enjoyable than the standard over-the-counter products sold.

They weren’t illegal drugs, but I didn’t exactly have a business license to sell them, either.

Since the restaurant was never all that busy, Mr. Carson often let me use the kitchen equipment to test and come up with new ideas, and as a thank you, even though he never asked for it and constantly refused it, I’d give him a portion of my profits.

“Theo, you give away more of your product for free than you sell. Besides, it’s not your job to keep my business afloat.

” I cringed at Vic’s statement. The people suffering the most usually couldn’t afford the care they needed, so I often ended up giving away most of my spells for free.

My boyfriend and his friends were really my only customers, and even then, somehow Sly would always figure out a way to swindle me out of the cash I was owed.

“I can still try,” I muttered. “You never know. Maybe I’ll stumble upon some fancy new spell and make millions. Then you can retire!”

Vic smiled as he shook his head. “Only you would give away your fortune to demons, Theo.” Then he went back to work making another pizza.

For the next hour, I slaved over a pot of boiling water steeped with mint leaves.

In went two drops of elderberry essence, one cup of honey infused with my magical energy, and a sliver of eclipse root.

The herb had a deep, rich violet color with dark shadowy streaks running through it, and gave off a slight glow when cut open.

Since it could only be grown using a witch’s magical energy, and only by those with the patience to grow it, it was a coveted plant used to balance the magical energies of a spell that not many people had access to.

“Hey, Theo. Delivery. Can you bring this pizza to Ellie at the museum? She’s working late tonight.” I turned around to see Mr. Carson place a hot pizza into a cardboard box. “She also asked for something to calm her anxiety and help her focus.”

“Well, lucky for her, I have just what she needs.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder to point at the pot. “I improved the last spell. I call this one … Theo’s Don’t Panic Potion!”

Mr. Carson nearly choked on his own breath as he laughed. “That’s a good one. Better than ‘Theo’s Soothing Touch.’”

My face heated with embarrassment. Okay, so I hadn’t thought that one through. Asking people if they wanted my soothing touch hadn’t gone over very well.

I snagged a paper cup and ladled the liquid into it until it was just about full, then snapped a plastic lid on top to cover it.

Its tangy, sweet aroma delighted my senses, reminding me of citrus blossoms and a baked apple pie cooling on the windowsill.

This particular potion was a palette cleanser, a refreshing drink that was meant to be enjoyed throughout the day for maximum effect.

“Be safe,” Victor urged, his voice reflecting a deep worry. Delivering a pizza should not have been a dangerous job, but when your boss was a demon and you were hiding a dangerous magic that could kill with a simple touch, you could never be too cautious about who might paint a target on your back.