Hauntings & Company: King's Fall

By Lizzie Strong

Hauntings&Company is an underdog retail business struggling to expand. Markus Hauntings, the owner, has to face the fact: as a Magic-wielding Psionic Illth, aka a Destroyer, (Purple, tentacles, scary, imposing) he might be driving potential clients away with his villainous looks. That's why his second in command hires Ophelia Dawn, a beautiful, bubbly half-elf. Markus knows the second he sees her that he's in trouble, he's smitten at first glance. He's hesitant to hire her until he realizes, she too is on her last leg. As a warlock of Cthulhu, it's hard to find work in King's Fall. And a girl's gotta eat. 

 

A whirlwind of learning to trust, learning the game of retail, and learning how to market a company full of 'bad guys'. Yet Ophelia never flinches away from the challenge and rises to the challenge of being the best assistant a Destroyer could ask for... if only he could keep his budding romantic feelings from escaping. This would be so much easier if she didn't wear her heart on her sleeve and fill the air with her desire like an intoxicating scent. Can the company survive this delicious affair?

 

Apart of the King's Fall Universe, a completely stand alone Boss x Assistant romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lizzie Strong
• Release date: Jun 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223980407

Lizzie Strong

Hi! My name is Lizzie Strong, I'm a monster romance author where the monsters are spooky scary but the romance is cute and cuddly. I specialize in queer stories with a heavy splash of chaos. I'm here to write stories that make me giggle so hard I snort, love so much it hurts, and spread Bi/Pan awareness and acceptance. <3

Book preview

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Chapter One:

Markus

Markus clutched his company mug with disdain. Staring at an entire crowd of employees surrounding one spill, he tapped his forefinger against the cup. Can anyone explain what happened?

Rex, the Lumbering Nightmare, froze in his tracks and hugged the barrel of acid to his chest. His jeans were covered in stains from working slime station all day. His thick, olive skin was smudged with dirt. Rex was, at minimum, seven feet tall with a wingspan of ten feet. Large hands, bone-like spines down his back, snake eyes and tusks, Rex towered over even Dan. He slouched a bit to look Markus in the eye. No, sir.

She just melted. Dan, the bugbear shift manager, blurted out with confusion. The Fae Forest creature drooped. His large, furry ears fell like a wolf as he stared at the mess. He fidgeted in his steel-toed boots. "It’s not even strong acid."

Well, she’s clearly not dead, because Rachel didn’t wail. Markus eyed the banshee perched on her work stool precariously. She clicked her acrylic nails against the stool like a bird of prey. Rachel shrugged before returning to her work organizing cursed books into shipping boxes. Daphne, a purple-scaled lizard-folk, labeled the boxes with shipping labels. Then, with a shift of his abysmal-colored eyes, he eyed the other three Fae Swampers (forest dwelling creatures) all huddled around the puddle of goo. Larry, Grant, and Kit prodded the gelatinous substance with a metal rod and shrieked as it wiggled. They were triplets, all chestnut fur and rose flesh burnt with embarrassment. Their ocular round eyes stared up at their boss horrified. Larry’s t-shirt was bleach-stained and only growing paler with every passing second. Markus hung his head, Did someone hex Sheelah? Or leave a port open? Come on people, we’re professionals here, act like it. Someone needs to find Sheelah, and someone, please, clean up the glob of acid.

Yes sir-

Wearing PPE! Markus clarified as he watched Rex reach for the glob with his bare hands. "Personal protective equipment, people. We just had a safety meeting last week about this. Do not make me go over that painful slide show again. Dan, get Rex PPE, Larry, find Sheelah. Let’s go."

He watched his circus part and scurry on its way. He tried not to sigh in front of them… but he couldn’t help it. Shaking his head, Markus turned toward the entryway of Hauntings&Company. A massive warehouse in the western corner of King’s Fall. The thick, haunted forest kept the building shielded and shadowed. The front gate and wall of the warehouse could be seen from the street. Vans, from other companies to pick up their orders, filled the gravel dock. The winding road that led away from the warehouse turned to concrete and asphalt after a while. That road led back into the whimsical city of King’s Fall. Skyscrapers next to small cafés made from enchanted wood, stone statues of heroes over fountains of magic.

The whole reason Markus came to live in King’s Fall, other than he had no other choices, was their diversity. Creatures from all walks of life lived here. It would be the perfect place to construct his business. Or that was the idea.

He stopped by the delivery dock station. Janus and Lance, the Slendermen, stacked pallets on trucks without breaking a sweat. Seven and a half feet tall, faceless, 90% lanky limbs and 10% shadows, Slendermen also got a bad rep. They both nodded their vaguely human head shapes at him before lumbering into trucks with new pallets of merchandise.

Oh, are you Mr. Hauntings? A human driver skittered across the floor toward Markus.

Yes, are you handing me an invoice? Markus tried his best welcoming smile. The human shivered. Markus’s face fell. Typical.

Uh, thanks, your dock people are the fastest stop I’ve got on my route. The magic department loves your products too, I’m told. The driver handed him a large packet from Knight&Mage Inc. The first business to officially buy in bulk from Hauntings&Company. Markus would have to thank them once he figured out how not to scare off customers.

They’re the best, thank you, I’ll let them know of your high praise. Markus nodded as he took the invoice. The driver, immediately after handing off the invoice, scrambled back toward his truck. Markus sighed, again, as he sipped from his tar-textured coffee.

Hey, bonus points, he looked you in the eyes at least. Kierson chuckled from over his right shoulder. Markus pivoted to meet his friend’s eye. Kierson, in a softer cream-colored suit with pearl accents, lingered an arm’s length away with a smugness that radiated off him. The Psionic Zilith deflated upon seeing the Drow’s delight. Obviously delight in something Markus would not find fun or enjoyable. Apollo, Kierson's hawk, dropped from the rafters of the warehouse and plucked the invoice from his hands. The bird carted the paper toward the offices as the two gentlemen strode away from the work floor.

Please tell me you’re happy you found my missing toothfairy? Markus nursed his coffee slowly.

Who’s missing? Kierson whipped around to scan the warehouse floor.

Sheelah. Rex splashed her with gelatinous cube stomach acid, and she disappeared. She’s … missing in action.

And this is why I let you run the floor and production and I work on numbers and scheduling. I can’t handle foolish behavior. Kierson shook his head with a groan, You’re a far more patient man than I.

HA! Markus barked as he crushed his mug in his grasp. It turned to dust that floated away toward the kitchen. A simple spell cast over every dish in the warehouse- Once it hit the sink in the employee break room it would return to existence. He took one last sweeping glance around the warehouse floor. Then, relenting to Kierson’s demands, he entered the office end of the warehouse. What kind of painful death are you leading me now Kier?

Only the best, most painful, sir. Kierson motioned to the office door.

You didn’t. Markus stopped in his tracks.

You promised to consider it.

I’m considering turning you into gelatinous goo. Markus narrowed his black orbs over Kierson. It’s been less than 24 hours, where could you have found someone?

Job ad. Now get your slimy butt in there sir, or I’ll hire her without your consent. Kierson rolled his eyes and motioned to the office door a second time. Markus glared at both the gentleman and the door to his office. Hire her? Meaning he’d already chosen? Why did he hire someone so fucking efficient? He chewed hard on the inside of his cheeks.

How many applied? Markus’s tentacles on his cheeks twitched unhappily.

Four. Kierson folded his arms over his chest.

And you already narrowed it down to one? His purple and blue lips pursed. Markus stared at the door with disdain.

She’s well-educated, charming, and very qualified. The others were impressive, but I have a good feeling. Now go interview her. The elf jammed his thumb in the direction of the door. Go on, Wiggleboy, get in there!

What did you just call me? Markus snapped his head in Kierson’s direction.

Wiggleboy, you know, cause your face… wiggles- you know, instead of arguing with me over nicknames, you ought to be in there, interviewing her!

Fine! Markus huffed.

Fine! Kierson and Apollo, newly landed on his shoulder, eyed him. Unblinking and expectantly, they stared through him into the depths of his soul. Markus glared, unable to make his feet move. Finally, he huffed and stormed to the door. Ripping it open, he stepped through the frame and marched across the floor.

Hello-

Markus stumbled over his own feet and tongue as a goddess amongst mortals twisted to face him from the window. He blinked rapidly, clearing his stun and paralysis clumsily. Sunset red, fluffy hair framed a round face. She illuminated the room with a smile made by the celestials themselves. A red pencil skirt popped against the white blouse with a black belt and pumps that clicked as she stepped toward him. He couldn’t stop staring at the glowing green eyes popping from under blunt bangs or the cherry-painted lips that curled more as she spoke. It took far longer than was acceptable for Markus to recover.

For the first time in years, Markus was in real danger… and she wasn’t even holding a weapon.

Hi, I’m Ophelia Dawn. She extended a hand to him. If Destroyers could flush, his cheeks would be tomato colored as he took her palm and shook it tenderly.

Greetings. He swallowed his tongue.

She looked him in the eyes.

She looked him in the eyes.

You must be Mr. Markus Hauntings? The owner? She stepped up closer as she firmly shook his hand back. Then, unphased, she tucked her hands in front of her. Not a shiver. No darting of her eyes. Steady and confident. She faltered in her smile, but he knew it wasn’t due to his appearance. She grimaced because he was staring. Obviously staring. Is something wrong?

No, I’m just… Markus tried to lie. He was good at lying, he was a psychic being, and his deception was beyond match. In awe.

Of me? She stumbled back a step, a hand to her chest. A bulge around her throat glowed with green magic. Markus forced his eyes to stay locked on her face. He smiled. She eyed him suspiciously.

I- His throat stopped working. What had he complained about to his employees? Their lack of professionalism? Steeling himself to work through his bewilderment, Markus stepped back and tucked his hands into his suit pockets. Excuse my wild shock and awe, but it’s been a while since someone has been able to look me in the eyes. Someone not from the badlands, or an employee or… you catch my drift.

She opened her mouth in a soft ‘o’ expression and nodded softly. Right, of course, because you’re kinda famous.

Pardon? Markus blurted out as his face froze in confusion.

Because you’re famous. Mr. Bloodfrost said you were an infamous war hero. I totally understand, in King’s Fall it must be like fighting off mobs of fans and stuff for you to even get a coffee or a bagel from the shop, right? She snorted, chuckling to herself.

Markus’ mouth hung open as he stared at her, unashamed. After a moment, he glanced at his reflection in the window- just to check. He was in his regular form. Periwinkle and cosmos purple-tinted skin, fleshy smooth head, black eyes, tentacles on his face. Zilith. Granted his suit was expertly tailored, and he was wearing his best wrist cuffs. Markus returned his gaze to Ms. Dawn. Right, of course. I’m famous.

Famous for being a monster.

He motioned for her to take a seat in front of his desk. His office was round with a full wall of glass panes. The key adjectives were cozy and inviting. He wanted it to be an atmosphere he could work in. He also wanted his employees to feel relaxed enough to discuss anything with him. Bookshelves and scrolls lined the walls while he kept the rest of the office clear of clutter. Two plush, armed leather chairs sat in front of his long onyx-colored desk. He took a seat in one of the armed chairs. She matched him in the other, her hands folded in her lap.

So, what brings you to work for Hauntings&Company, Ms. Dawn? He kept his gaze on his palms in his lap. With a snap of his fingers, a notepad and pen from his desk appeared in his hands. He draped a leg over the other. Pressing the pad against the meat of his thigh, he finally glanced up at her again.

Well, I’ve only recently heard about your company. I was looking for a more office work and I saw the ad that Mr. Bloodfrost posted on Crystalgram and Synced-In. So, I did spend a few hours last night and this morning looking into what it is you do here. She straightened her back, tucking her ankles against the leg of the chair. The glow under her blouse caught his attention a second time.

And what is it we do here? He teased with a chuckle.

Oh! Duh, She giggled, You’re a materials manufacturer. Your reviews say you supply high-quality items and products for those hard-to-get items. Like, I was surprised you can sell screams of terror for relatively cheap. I almost thought your website was broken, because I’ve never seen those listed for anything less than twelve gold.

She nervously twirled a tendril of hair as inconspicuously. If Markus hadn’t caught the shift of her fingers in her lap and the twinge of nerves in her cheeks, he wouldn’t have noticed. But then her nose scrunched in the middle as she cleared her throat gently. What I mean is, not that your product is cheap or you’re underselling. Just that you sell products that are hard to get. And it’s a fair price.

Markus nodded, scribbling onto his notepad mindlessly. She had arcane experience. The focus that hung beneath her blouse was the first clue. The second was her knowledge of the market price for an obscure magical item. You’re a caster?

Oh, Yeah, I gues- Er. I mean, yes, I’m a caster. She flushed nervously, matching her lipstick.

Are you sure? He cocked his head to the side.

Yes. Very. She clenched her hands hard in her lap. Markus caught the ink on her nails. Runes, a popular casting technique, were painted onto her nails for ease. Yet, she kept her nails painted cream with peach runes, nearly invisible to the naked eyes.

Interesting.

Markus scanned her, opening his eyes less her magical presence. Like a tickle down the back of his skull, his magic reached out to her. He opened his psionic eyes to see her as her true, magical self. An aura of thick green magic surrounded her like a thunderous cloud. He cocked his head to the opposite side, watching tendrils of black magic dance within her cloud faintly. Disguising her true abilities, she buried herself beneath a cloud of basic arcane energy.

She was no assistant. He sighed for the third time in the last hour. Ophelia Dawn wasn’t some basic caster with no talent, she was holding back. He folded his hands over his notepad. Ms. Dawn.

Yes? She flinched.

Why are you trying to be an assistant? He eyed her suspiciously.

As I said, I was looking for office work. She smiled weakly.

You may drop the façade, Ms. Dawn. Markus unfolded his legs. He leaned forward, staring her dead in the eyes. Your magical ability is immense.

Thank you. She blushed, stabbing her fists deep into the meat of her thick thighs.

That wasn’t a compliment. He pushed to his feet. She paled, watching him with wide eyes. He snapped the notebook away. If you truly investigated my company, you would know it is for people who need a chance that would not get one otherwise. I will not have someone clearly disguising their talent to get an easy job when someone else could use it. Someone with less talent or ability. You may go.

Wait. What? She gasped, scrambling to her feet.

Markus stepped away from the chairs, heading for the doors. He should have known. Despite her beauty and her charm, she was just another pretty-faced caster. Please, grab your things, I will walk you out.

Wait. Mr. Hauntings. She rushed after him.

I have a business to run, might I suggest applying to Knight&Mage if you want a more retail experience-

I can’t. I already applied to them. Her voice cracked. Markus stopped mid-step and twisted toward her. Her hands trembled as she clutched her fingers around the focus that glowed like a flashlight under her blouse. Legs wobbling, she stumbled forward a step, locking eyes with him. "They already turned down my application. Everyone and I mean everyone, has already turned me down for casting or arcane work. Please. I really need this job. It’s this or…"

Her face fell as her gaze fell away from him. Markus tried not to scoff or roll his eyes. What could be worse… then she plucked her focus out from the neck of her blouse. His face fell and a cold wash of embarrassment bit into his organs. An eldritch eye stared at him with its putrid yellow gaze. It was an eye wrapped in tentacles and cast like clay, it was almost too real to be fake. Then, it blinked, and he knew it was real. A warlock focus. She stared at the eye for an extended, silent moment, before she returned her attention back to him. I’m a warlock, Mr. Hauntings, and I applied because I thought out of every place, at least here, I would be among people who understand what it’s like to be misjudged for what you are.

Markus inhaled through his nostrils sharply, unable to get enough oxygen to his lungs. He stared down at Ophelia, ready to shatter, and realized exactly why Kierson picked her. His attention to detail was pristine. He would have clocked her warlock focus and powers with one glance. Why did he have to hire someone so damn efficient? Hadn’t he asked for someone who needed the job? Someone who wouldn’t get the opportunity elsewhere. He sighed, for the fourth time that morning, What flavor of patron are you attached to, if you don’t mind my asking?

She grimaced, A great, old one.

Ah, that makes sense. She could look him in the eye because she’d seen much worse. There had been many theories about where Zilith’s such as him came from. One of those theories was they were descendants of the Great Old Ones, which were just eldritch abominations. Gods of horror and madness. Massive monsters with tentacles, oozing skin, and psychic abilities that were said to destroy millions of lives. No wonder the bubbly woman before him didn’t even flinch. If she was chained to one of them, any of them, then she was immune to his overpowering ‘scariness’.

Markus folded his arms over his chest, gluing his gaze to the hardwood beneath their feet. His chest grew heavy. If he hired her, he would be distracted by her. He knew deep, in his rotten, psionic soul that he would have to fight to keep from flirting with her. Kierson just had to find the prettiest, saddest sob story to work for him, didn’t he? Markus swore to turn his right-hand drow into a puddle of goo at a later date. The truth was Markus could never tell Ophelia Dawn to leave. He’d sworn his life to giving chances to those who needed it most… wasn’t she a worthy cause? Markus Hauntings, Destroyer, and owner of Hauntings&Company was also the biggest sap.

When can you start? He exhaled. His gaze returned to her face. Her hands flew to cover her lips in surprise as she blinked away tears. It’s not easy, we’re still relatively small and I want to expand. You’ll be keeping me on schedule, helping me run the production floor, taking calls, and working on expanding our sales. It’s not easy. Retail isn’t easy.

Yes, sir. She nodded vigorously.

Markus pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated how her words struck with a wondrous zing to his insides. And the hours are atrocious. I pay for all hours worked, but the hours won’t be easy, I’m here early and often stay late. You’ll be expected to do the same.

Perfect, of course, sir. She brimmed, illuminating the whole room around her.

Be here by 7:30 am tomorrow, we’ll do the hiring paperwork and a tour, and then we can discuss salary and schedule going forward. Do not be late. Markus motioned to the door once more.

You need not worry, Mr. Hauntings, I will be prompt and ready to work! She bounced on her toes, bubbling with glee as she raced after him. He already regretted his bleeding heart.

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Chapter Two:

Ophelia

Ophelia stepped through the front door mere seconds before she let out a shriek unlike anything ever heard before. Kayla dropped her stack of papers onto the floor, all the files fluttering away from her like moths. Her best friend froze, eyes wide and mouth open, staring at Ophelia in dismay. Ophelia slammed the apartment door shut with the biggest grin. I got the job!

Both women shrieked. Kayla launched across the floor, scooping Ophelia into her arms. The warlock cheered and punched in the air as her best friend swung her in a swift circle. They tumbled to the ground as Kayla’s arms gave out. Cackling the whole way down, they held hands and shook each other vigorously. Only once someone started banging on the walls to their right did they quiet down. Instead, they started a soft, hushed squeal of joy to each other.

What did I tell you. Kayla squished Ophelia’s cheeks between her palms. Sloppily kissing her best friend on the forehead before scrambling to her feet, You just needed to find a better fit.

"Ah yes, the fit with the gawking Zilith and nosey elf with a pesky hawk. Perfect. Just what we needed." Cthulhu’s incessant complaints fell on deaf ears as Ophelia stretched out on their dusty tile floor.

I go in tomorrow to sign paperwork and take a tour. Mr. Hauntings said I’m getting a starting salary. Not sure what my pay will be but honestly, at this point, any pay is better than none. She tucked her hands up and under her head with glee. A job! She gained a job today that wasn’t anything to do with her mother. Take that. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. Then a stack of papers smacked into her. Right.

Clumsily, Ophelia climbed to her feet to help Kayla collect all her paperwork. Between the two, they were able to collect all the fluttering paper. Once wrangled, they stacked them back into a neat tower. Ophelia sat at the dining room table. The wooden circle had seen better days. Not that either could complain when they got the table for free for buying both chairs at a yard sale.

He’s a Zilith, a psionic one. Ophelia sorted papers back into order.

Well, that’s different. Kayla blinked rapidly before shrugging. Guess he’s in the right business. How many Ziliths do you know sell siren scales at affordable prices?

They shared knowing smirks before Ophelia punched Kayla in the right bicep. They returned blows back and forth with snickers as they organized the papers more.

He’s really nice. Kind of stiff and awkward but, I wouldn’t know any better. Ophelia smiled to herself as she replayed the entire interview. Kierson Bloodfrost was charming and inviting. His visage was sharp, and not just sharply dressed. The sharpness of his appearance fell apart the second he opened his mouth, however. He broke up the intense questions with puns he thought up on the fly. Then, he had her hang back when he let the other three leave. She could feel the weight of Markus Hauntings’ arcane power as he stepped into the room. Even Cthulhu mentioned that it was intense. I’ve never met any others.

He was periwinkle and a mixture of blueish hues. His black eyes pierced through her, she worried at first that he was analyzing her soul. What a waste of his time if he had, there’s no soul to see. When he spoke, his voice floated like a buttery rumble deep in his chest.

Not even at the Warlock Academy? Kayla furrowed her brows.

Nope, we got a few psionic monsters in a portal way once and there was that Lich that taught necromancy for a few years, but no Ziliths. Ophelia shook her head, deep in thought. Were all of them this innately alluring? She wasn’t sure if that was a feature of their kind, or if it was her.

"Let’s be honest, it’s you." Cthulhu snorted deep within her mind.

Shut up, no comment from you mister. You’re still on thin ice after what you pulled at the library, Ophelia blurted out, smacking her hand against the table. Don’t you have other warlocks to bother?

He heckling you? Kayla teased with a knowing smirk.

Yeah, it’s his favorite pastime. Ophelia rolled her eyes. Hands flat against the table, she stood back up. You hungry? I’ll cook.

Oh, yes, please. I don’t think I’ve eaten, Kayla moaned with drool pooling at the corner of her lips for added drama. The elvish wizard continued to stack and organize her files. Ophelia stepped one foot to the right into their miniature kitchen.

Two-bedroom apartments with cheap amenities, they got what they paid for.

Pulling out a bag of frozen vegetables and two chicken breasts from their freezer, Ophelia began the lengthy process of making something from nothing. She learned in college that a person could live off plain rice and chicken for a long time. It’s not fun, but it’s survivable. In a pot she mixed up butter and herbs, filling the air with their aroma. Yet her mind wandered back to Markus’ office. Cinnamon and crackling firewood, a musky scent that lingered as a soft reminder of the magic in the room. Walls full of books with no titles, scrolls in languages she didn’t speak, and a window with a breathtaking view into the forest. His office felt warm, cozy, and inviting, like a nap in front of a fireplace in the dead of winter.

Her trance of thoughts shattered like glass as the trill of her phone filled the air with a sharp noise. She slapped at her back pocket until her fingers figured out how to grab it. Fumbling with the screen, she slapped the crystalphone against the side of her face. Mom.

Darling, there you are, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all day. Her mother’s bored drawl ran a cold shiver down her spine.

Oh? How weird, I didn’t get any other calls. Must have been the service. Ophelia lied through her teeth. Stirring the pot before her, she avoided landmines with her mother. She had received thirteen phone calls from her mother. Her phone was, however, mysteriously on ‘do not disturb’ all day, for some reason.

Well, no matter, you’ve picked up now. I wanted to discuss with you the library of arcane arts debacle from yesterday.

Ophelia wrenched around on her heel to stare Kayla dead in the eye. Kayla put her hands up in defeat and confusion. Flipping the speaker phone on, Ophelia sat the device on the countertop. The library of arcane arts? What happened?

Oh shit, Kayla whispered.

A friend of mine, one mister Edgar Dorty, reached out to inform me of your deplorable interview. I had no idea you were applying to the library, why did you not tell me? I would have ensured you were better prepared for such a simple magical examination.

I’ll kill her. Kayla sneered, fingers scraping against the top of the table.

You know I’m trying to do this on my own. Besides, I passed the exam, it was only cantrips. Mr. Dorty and I disagreed upon my employment due to my … special… abilities. Ophelia stabbed the mute button on her phone. "Of course, she’s friends with him."

Of course, why wouldn’t she know literally every wizard in this city. Kayla tossed her hands into the air. The pair waited for Lavender Dawn's rebuttle. She always had one.

Darling, you’re a member of the Dawn family, you need to start behaving as such. This is ridiculous to discuss such matters over the phone. Come home and I will set you up with a tasteful job under my watchful eye.

There it is! They chimed in together as Ophelia undid the mute on her phone. Mom, I’m doing this on my own. Digby and Connor are living on their own and don’t work for you in the slightest. I’m the third oldest, it’s my turn to leave the bird’s nest.

Ophelia, you know that’s different. The boys were ready and prepared to expand their horizons. You are…

Her mother trailed off leaving the air tainted with the words she refused to say. She never said them!

Are what? Ophelia put the lid over her pan of steaming vegetables and chicken.

Say it. Different. Say she was a mistake, not ready… a warlock. Unlike her brothers who served divine magic to the King of Maylor. Captains of the guard, far away from King’s Fall.

Ophelia, you’re not ready. Please, stop embarrassing me in public and just come home. Lavender Dawn pleaded over the phone.

Sorry mom, but I just started a new job, the first day is tomorrow, and I’ve got to be there early to sign the paperwork. I’ve got to go. Talk to you later. Ophelia nearly hexed her phone attempting to hang up. She tossed the device over her shoulder. Kayla caught it in the air with magic and gently tucked it under her stack of papers. Ophelia had just about enough of doing what her mother wanted. She'd clawed her way to freedom from that tyrant and she wouldn't so easily waver. Never again.

"Tell her how you really feel. Ask her why she wants you home now when she wanted-"

"Go bother someone else