My Luck (Twisted Luck Book 1) Read online

  I grabbed the table, sure my knees would buckle. It would still be tight, but the schedule had eaten every time I was supposed to be at Grind Down except the weekends. And I only had hours from six to twelve those days. The schedule had me working Monday to Friday, a realistic thing, but I'd needed to not think too hard about it before I lost it. This, this meant everything. I didn't want to still hope on Marisol talking to my parents, but this might make it so I could survive without doing anything reckless.

  "Thank you so much. You have no idea."

  He gave me a considering look. "No. But I suspect I should have. You've been in this program two years. You're smart, sarcastic, but damn good, and I rarely see you overreact to anything, no matter how strange things get, unlike some students."

  I shrugged, not wanting to get into my record of weird things happening around me.

  "If nothing else, I promise to pay more attention. While everyone works very hard to not be biased against mages, I need to make sure I support the students in my program to the best of my ability and not assume anything. Most non-mages tend to stay in family groups for money and support. And I assumed. I won't do it again."

  I tossed him a wan smile. "Then my job here is done. I shall continue on to educate the opinionated."

  This time he did laugh. "Well then, carry on in your mission. I should hate to dissuade you."

  Maybe he didn't suck as much as I thought he did. "Thanks again."

  "Get going. You have people to call."

  "First I need a phone." I pulled out my petrified phone. "Mine is a bit dead."

  He looked at it, did a double take. "How in the world?"

  "Emergence." I'm not sure what my tone conveyed, but his eyebrows crept up towards his hair line.

  "Transformation mage, obviously. Hope that person gets a handle on their powers."

  "Yeah." I shoved the object back in my pocket. "Thanks again."

  "Good luck, Miss Munroe. I have faith in you."

  I was glad he did. I didn't have any at all.

  Chapter 14

  Emergence is one of the most mysterious and least understood aspects of magic. While most mages emerge when puberty has ended, the history of magic is long and varied. It is possible that we don't yet know everything about magic, but the consensus is that the rampant hormones in the body need to be settled before the confusion of magic is added to the mix. But remember people once thought the world was flat too. ~ Thoughts on Magic

  I will not kill phone reps, I will not kill phone reps.

  If I kept chanting that in my head, maybe I might emerge from this without committing a felony. Maybe.

  "I understand this isn't covered by my warranty. I just need a new phone. What is the cheapest full function – data, voice, messaging, you can sell me?" I didn't know how many times I'd said that already. If I said it again, I might snap.

  "I just don't think I can give you any credit. This qualifies as mage damage and that isn't covered." The sales rep was a skinny Hispanic kid who made me look overweight, and that was saying something.

  "I'm not asking you to. Just sell me a new phone so I can move my number over!" My voice might have spiked a bit and I saw his eyes flip to my temple before he relaxed.

  "Fine, but you're going to have to pay full price for the phone. This can't be traded in." The snooty tone had returned and I resisted the urge to leap over the counter and strangle him. For a few reasons: One, I'd probably face plant doing that. Two, it wouldn't bet a good way to start any internship. Three, then I'd never get my new phone. I fell back on the only thing I could do and not get arrested.

  "What? You mean you can't give me a free phone because my old one was destroyed? Wow, that never occurred to me. I mean, here I thought you'd give me a free phone because my old one got all magicked up. Who would have thought?" I let my annoyance and sarcasm coat every word, and that seemed to finally sink through to the kid.

  "Fine. Yes. What phone did you need? We have the newest and—" I cut him off. Like I had the money for the best and brightest.

  "No thanks. Same model that I had before. I think it's what, ninety?"

  The kid looked at me sourly—that phone didn't get him a nice commission.

  Sorry, but some of us can't buy all the sparkly stuff.

  "Yes, a bit more with tax."

  "That one please. Activate it with my number." I backed up religiously to the cloud, so everything should sync back down but my frustration level was causing me to itch all over my body.

  He huffed a sigh, then flinched as his computer monitor sparked, cracked, and a wisp of smoke trailed up out of it. "Umm... I've never seen that happen before. We'll need to do this over here."

  Managers were rushing towards us and my head itched so badly I wanted to scream, but I gritted my teeth. I'd give in after I was outside and could get rid of the dandruff.

  It took another twenty minutes, mainly because the SIM card flipped out of his hand once and we couldn't find it, then the second one snapped in half as he tried to punch out the SIM card. He'd started to look a bit frazzled, so I had mercy on him and kept my mouth shut.

  "Here you go. All set up and ready to go. You can log into your account and it will sync all your contacts."

  I didn't grab it from him, quite. Either way, he widened his eyes a bit at how fast it appeared in my hands. "The voice mail will transfer, right?"

  "Yes, that is on the switch. If you had any it would sync down."

  The indicator above the voice mail showed nothing. My heart seized with a pain I didn't want to face. "Thanks." I headed out, mentally counting the money and not thinking about no frantic notes from Jo.

  What if she did die, what if?

  The thought wracked me, so I figured it'd be easy to figure out. I called the shop. On the second ring Marco answered. "Guzman Auto shop, how can I help you?" His friendly tone had no hidden depths, they weren't closed and he didn't seem upset. I hung up.

  See, she's fine. Go do what you need to do.

  Lugging the heavy bag, I headed to the bus stop. I might as well make all the calls from home where I could be assured of at least eating for a while. Eating at campus cost way too much. Besides, I had homework I needed to do.

  The ride back was blessedly uneventful. I needed something to be unexciting. As we rode I called and asked Molly if she needed anyone today. I'd take any hours I could get, but she was already completely covered, though that didn't surprise me. I told her I'd email her with my new available hours that afternoon. First, I had people to contact.

  Settled in my apartment, the huge bag taking up a spot on the couch, I pulled out the sheet and looked at my schedule. The first five weeks were with a doctor that was subsidized by Healthstar and they needed an MA. My least favorite thing to do, but for the most part it should be basics. Taking temperature, blood pressure, weight, verifying why they were there, getting them into the room and then entering the notes. Basic stuff, and from the notes they would fully train me on EPIC which never hurt.

  "Rockway Urgent Care," a brisk voice answered when I called.

  "Hello, this is Cori Munroe. I'm with the triple cert program. I was assigned to this center and I'm supposed to speak to Melanie Strickland?" I kept my voice as calm as if I was calling 911 again. No reason to get agitated. Just my future depended on this.

  "Ah, yes. We were told they were handing out the schedules. I'm Melanie. So here's the rundown – and don't be offended if I sound rude, but you're the third person and we are swamped today, so I want to get through it quickly."

  "No, I respect that. Please go ahead."

  I had a notebook and started writing as she spoke. "Your shift is Tuesday through Friday eight hours a day which puts you at thirty-two, creating enough practicum hours to qualify." My pen snapped. I dropped it and picked up the next writing implement. I always had three or four ready to use. "Hours are from seven am to three-thirty pm with a half hour lunch. Please wear sensible closed-toe shoes and dark blue scrubs. We'll issue
you one pair when you arrive, but you are expected to buy at least two more pair to be able to change out." My throat clenched at the idea of more money for clothes I'd hopefully never wear again. The pen's tip broke. I kept my groan to myself and grabbed the next one. Cheap pens were easy to find. "Expect to hit the ground running, though you have paperwork to fill out first. Any questions?"

  The list of notes made sense, only the scrubs made me nauseous, but that was what it was. "No ma'am. I'll be there bright and early tomorrow."

  "Excellent. I'll see you then." She hung up before I could say anything else. I grabbed a few more pens from my stash and laid them out. I'd need to get more soon. With a deep breath, I called the one for the police internship, a bit of hope in my heart. A tiny bit.

  "Chief Amosen." Her crisp no nonsense voice answered the line and I cringed. Of all the cops who could be running the program I was in, it had to be her. And someday I'd have to let why I didn't like her go. It wasn't her fault she had to take Stevie from me.

  "Chief, it's Cori. I'm calling about the internship?"

  "Ah, Cori. Yes. You know we specifically requested you, right? And I know this screws up your work schedule, but we wanted you with Sam."

  My breath caught, nothing making sense in my head. They had requested me? But why. And why hadn't she mentioned it the other night.

  "I don't understand." And I didn't, though the statement came out blunter than I probably intended.

  Laurel laughed. "I know we have issues between us, and I know why. I can't change that any more than you can. But we, meaning most of the department, know you seem to be a trouble magnet, not that you cause it. You just find it like a damn dowsing device. As such, we'd rather have you with us than have you end up in another department that might not react as well to what happens around you."

  Huh. I hadn't even thought about that. She's right. Me with another department might have gone very sideways.

  The program was tapping three different police departments and one sheriff's, so no one had to deal with too many interns. All of a sudden, I felt like maybe this might be a good thing after all.

  "Thank you." I swallowed. Why was I so emotional? I really needed to get a grip. "So, what do I need to know?"

  "Show up wearing black slacks, closed toed comfortable shoes, a dark simple t-shirt. We have some cadet in training shirts from an old program that should fit you. Bring your phone, but not much else. Sam is almost excited about this. He says his shifts are never boring when you're around."

  "Sam barely tolerates me," I blurted. Then I felt my face heat. Sometimes my life would be easier if I kept my thoughts to myself.

  The chief started to laugh. "He said you'd say that. Cori, he thinks of you as an annoying little sister. And worries about you. People do care. There just hasn't been much we could do. Show up at seven, in what, five weeks?"

  I looked at my schedule and calendar. "Yeah. My Mondays are spent in class and my first rotation is as a medical assistant. They are five weeks each rotation and keep us at thirty-two hours."

  "Excellent. We'll be ready. Stay out of danger, Cori."

  "What? No telling me to stay out of trouble?"

  Argh there goes my attitude again.

  "You are almost never in trouble, just in danger. See you." She hung up with that leaving me staring at my phone. That conversation had not gone the way I expected, and it felt like the ground under my feet was shifting. I just didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. My eyes went to the voice mail indicator again, still it showed no one had called for me.

  I forced everything down again. I could deal with my feelings in a bit. Right now I needed to deal with the last call. The number was listed as Captain Martin Martinez and I frowned. While I didn't follow all the interpersonal relationships, I was pretty sure that was Chief Amosen's husband. That couldn't be right. What were the odds?

  Shrugging, I dialed the number.

  "Rockway Fire, Captain Martinez speaking."

  "Yes, this is Cori Munroe. I'm calling about the internship."

  "Ah yes. You're the young woman Laurel stresses over so much. Sally said she wanted you on her rig. Let me see if she's available." I could hear the phone being muffled as I felt rocked again. Laurel talked about me? Why? Why would she even care? And obviously this was her husband. It was beginning to look like I'd been played. But was this a good thing or a bad thing? I wouldn't know unless I played it out. But still, couldn't they have talked to me?

  Reality sank into me. Probably not. I was prickly at the best of times and even asking Jo for help seemed like an imposition. My eyes grew wet and I blinked rapidly, forcing myself to focus on the issue at hand.

  "Yep. She's available. Let me transfer you through. I look forward to meeting you, Cori." Before I could say anything, I heard a beep and then the sound of road noise.

  "Cori? You there?" Sally's voice came through the speaker.

  "Hey Sally. So, what is going on?"

  "Well, we all knew you were going through this new program and decided you needed to be with us. Which means, you get me last as you'll have taken the last of the courses by then and be about ready to take the certification test or have taken it. Jeff needs to have some minor surgery, so you're going to be my partner for most of the last five weeks. You ready?"

  "No. But I'll try. What do I need to do, or bring?"

  "Well I'll have moved my schedule by then so four twelves and then three off, then three twelves, four off. You will be contracted at an odd rate. You'll get more than thirty-two hours, we can't afford to have someone work half shifts, but that's all in the paperwork. If you can swing buy the fire department sometime and fill it out, it'll make sense then."

  "I can do that. Clothes? What do I bring?"

  "I've got two jumpsuits that should fit you. You can wear those. So closed-toed boots, something warm and soft to wear under the jumpsuits, your bag, and you should be good. This will be fun." Her voice seemed bright and real. And I really thought they were all insane.

  "Will do. See you then, Sally."

  "If not sooner. I know your luck." Her voice held laughter as she said it. We hung up and I stared. Not only did I need scrubs, but shoes that would work for all three places. And I knew very well that you bought good shoes, even if you couldn't afford them. I swallowed and added another thing to my list of items I needed to buy in the next day. At least for this week I could limp by on the work shoes I had and the single pair of scrubs. But this weekend I'd have to go shopping.

  My fingers dug through my hair releasing a cascade of white flakes and I sighed. I didn't know how to reach out to Jo. I didn't want to impose, but I ached to see her, know how she was doing.

  My eyes drifted to the bottle of rum still sitting on the counter. With a determined clench of my jaw I got up and made myself a strong drink. I sat back down on the couch and downed half of it. The burn of the alcohol mixed with the sear of carbonation on a throat that had been more parched than I realized hit me hard. I sat there and my mind went back to that day. The day I lost Stevie. The day I lost everything.

  As if watching a movie I could rewind and fast forward, I relived it again, searching as always for an answer as to why he'd died. What had happened? And why had I lived?

  Chapter 15

  While Air and Fire rage, the smart man looks at the soul to see the truth - Mao Sun Lun (Pattern merlin of Qing Chinese Dynasty )

  Why not torture myself and go back to that day and see if there is anything I never saw before?

  I'd never mentioned to anyone that I could take this one memory and manipulate it like my own private video player. I'd heard of other people, not mages, but just people, who had perfect recall, so I didn't think much about it. Most mage skills they talked about were big, showy, things that created impressions. This was trauma and a single hour's long memory. I kept drinking as I started the memory once again. If it had been a vinyl record, there would have been a groove in it that threatened to snap it into pieces. My mind didn
't break like that. The wound just dug deeper each time I looked and didn't find an answer.

  The sun shone brightly. It was a few days before our twelfth birthday. A Saturday. The image of the park, the blue sky, the warmth in the sun, and the cool in the shade, the temperatures felt so real that I could almost hear the other kids in the park playing, feel the sun on my skin. Mom had dropped us off while she ran to the post office to mail something. What had it been? Oh yeah, taxes. Our birthday was April 15th, Tax Day. She was mailing stuff early. Stevie loved the swings more than anything, always chasing the ultimate high of flipping over the top.

  I preferred playing on the monkey bars, hanging upside down and seeing the world from different angles. I was hanging there, my long hair almost touching the ground as I studied how different trees looked driving into the ocean of sky, when Stevie screamed.

  He yelled and laughed a lot, much more exuberant than I had ever been. But all I had to do was think back and I could hear that scream ripping me in two. This is where the memory gets funny. Minds are odd places and they do weird things. For me, everyone else around seemed to freeze. They just didn't move. Even the birds seemed to hang in place as I dropped and ran to him.

  Over the years, researching what could have caused it, I read other people describing traumatic events, and they would mention the rest of the world going away, or everything moving in slow motion. This quirk of my memory was just one more thing among many that didn't make sense that day.

  He lay there under the swings, the one he'd been on hanging broken above him like a sad flag pointing to the fallen figure. I flipped off the bar. Now looking back, it was a good flip. I nailed the landing, but I only cared about getting to him. He lay there and a gust of wind knocked my hair into my eyes. The seat pointed at him. I still avoid playgrounds and the associated panic attacks.