Naughty Karma

Chapter Fifteen Charm and Punishment

The bell over his shop door had never sounded so clear, reminding him he was back where he was supposed to be, watching another satisfied customer walk into the world with magic in her pocket. He’d been spending too much time with Karma, starting to wonder—not enough for the thought but enough for an uneasy feeling—if she was right about him. If he really was doing more harm than good by putting magic out into the world. And after last night, when he’d felt…what was that? Close to her? Comfortable with her? That wasn’t him. Prometheus didn’t have confidants. He didn’t rely on people or build relationships with them. Relationships were vulnerabilities and he was invulnerable. Immortal.

Or he would be as soon as he got his heart back.

He needed today to get his center, as Karma would say. And his center was this shop. He wasn’t selling bad juju. He was selling catharsis. The ability to get back at that cheating ex or vindictive boss so his clients could move on. Nothing felt so pure as vengeance. Sure, he wasn’t putting strictly white light into the universe, but sometimes a person needed to scream and lash out before he could be whole again. Prometheus understood that better than most and he made sure his clients lashed out in ways that wouldn’t leave them heartless for twenty years.

Taking stock of the store, he noticed they were running low on love charms—always a big money maker—and debated flipping the Back in Five sign over to run into the back and whip up a few more, but he wasn’t feeling particularly loverly. With the mood he was in, his love charms would probably summon stalkers rather than reciprocated love. It was a delicate thing, magic, and it listened to the caster, sometimes more than he might want it to.

Maybe he could make a charm for Karma. Not a love charm—gods, not that—but something to help her work her abilities. And if it happened to help her trust him and want to help him…so much the better.

He’d have to be careful, subtle about it. She’d examine any gift he gave her and if she suspected for a second that he was trying to manipulate her, she’d flip her shit. And that right there was a challenge he couldn’t resist.

If he failed, at least he’d get to watch her in full meltdown mode. She was something else when she lost it.

He sent out a little flick of telekinetic energy to click the lock and flip the Back in Five sign, turning toward his workroom. He’d recently received a shipment of Celtic knot pendants. His customers loved those things—even though it was just as easy to work a charm into an ugly lump of rock as it was a pretty worked knot. Karma wouldn’t be impressed by them, but there was one that was a modified yin-yang design. He was already picturing how he would layer the charm into it—no compulsion, just persuasion. Subtle.

The bell over the door chimed.

Prometheus froze, half in, half out of his workroom. The door hadn’t opened. The shop was empty. But an icy hot chill slithered down his spine and he knew before he turned that he wasn’t alone.

“Prometheus,” she purred, her voice liquid sin and velvet kisses wrapped in pure feminine sweetness. “It’s been too long.”

He hoped he was hallucinating, but when he turned, there she was. Petite, curvy, purely female, with large, dark eyes and thick, dark hair curling loose and wild over her shoulders. There was a Mediterranean cast to her features, reinforcing his instinct that she’d once been worshipped in Greece and Italy. Deuma. Handmaiden of Bacchus. Sex devil of the highest, most dangerous order. Owner of his heart. The Big Bad Bitch herself.

She studied him—white hair, broad shoulders—and smiled, dark eyes twinkling with sweet invitation. “You’ve changed, my pet.”

“You haven’t.”

“Haven’t I?” she pouted. “Doesn’t it show?”

Her body, her face, she was exactly as she’d been engraved in his memory. But when he looked at her through the filter of his power—her power—he saw it, the way she was gleaming, swelling, pulsing with dark strength. Before she’d been enthralling, but now he could barely look at her for the power blinding him. She’d been a devil—or at least a creature constrained by devilish handicaps—but now she was verging on something else. She’d appeared here without being summoned—the power differential that involved… No. It couldn’t be. He would be so screwed if Deuma was on her way to becoming a god.

Prometheus struggled to keep his face and his mind blank. It was risky enough to double cross a devil. To renege on a deal with a god… Suicide.

“I have two more months.”

“What if I’m in the mood to round to the nearest year?” She strolled through his shop, trailing her fingers through the charms, every movement of her hips oiled and designed to draw the eye.

“That isn’t how it works.” It couldn’t be. He needed more time. He was so close to getting free of her. He’d been so sure he had more time.

“No, you’re right,” she admitted. “A contract is a contract. But there’s nothing in it saying I can’t come play.”

If he’d had a heart, it would have been pounding. The blood rushed loud in his ears. “Why would you want to do that?”

“You’ve become very interesting lately. Aren’t you glad to see me, love?” She sent him a half-lidded look that made Marilyn Monroe look frigid by comparison.

Prometheus felt his body responding, even as his mind screamed in silent protest. She could make a dead man pant, but no living man was safe in her bed. She was a scorpion. The most dangerous thing he could imagine was for her to decide she wanted him again. “I’m surprised is all. Your time is valuable.”

“You’re valuable to me, Prometheus. Especially with the interesting company you’ve been keeping lately. Whatever are you up to, dear boy?”

“Can’t a man enjoy his last months on earth?”

“Is that was this is?” She smiled. “A last, tragic leap into love? How like a man to want love when he knows he won’t have to keep working at it after the initial infatuation fades.” She lifted a love charm off the rack, twirling it between her fingers. “I can’t fault your taste. She is delicious, isn’t she? All that lovely power. She’s worth three of you.”

“Stay away from her,” he growled, feinting like a man in love to sell the facade. “Or try to tempt her if you want. She’s too good for you. She’d never deal with devils.”

“No? Maybe not. But she’s dealing with you, isn’t she?”

“What do you want, Deuma?”

“What does any eight-thousand-year-old handmaiden want?” She laughed, sweet and girlish. “Don’t be thinking you can weasel out of our arrangement, Prometheus. I don’t take well to those who try to cross me. I’ll be watching you.” With that last, comforting thought, she tossed the love charm into the air, vanishing before it landed on the counter, the soft pewter of the charm somehow leaving a dent in the Formica.

Prometheus grabbed it and moved quickly through the shop, gathering up everything else she’d touched—he didn’t trust her not to have contaminated half his wares. He dropped them all into a bag, bringing them back to his workroom with him. He’d go through each one later to cleanse them, but in the meantime, he had a charm to work for Karma.

She’s worth three of you. Deuma’s words echoed in his mind as he took out the yin-yang charm. It could have been just words. She was too good for him. But Deuma didn’t say anything without purpose. Worth three of me. So would Deuma accept a trade? He really would be the bad guy then. But he’d be alive. And perhaps he could work it so Karma was too. She didn’t even want her power. Surely she could spare some of it. Best for all of them.

He felt a little twinge that might have been guilt, but shoved it aside and reached for the charm. To make her trust him, want to help him, sacrifice for him…and let her hair down.

But how to get it past her? She’d never let loose intentionally. Maybe two charms. One to help her focus her gift and another to get him into her good graces. Prometheus smiled and began to work his magic. You could learn a lot from con artists and stage magicians—it was all about misdirection. He was going to misdirect Karma until her head spun.