Her club. Her rules. Except where magic came in. Then it was her way or the highway.
And all of her regulars knew not to cross that line. Vamps, psychics, shifters, they were all welcome. But any serious spell-casting inside her club and they’d be worse than banned. They’d be extinquished.
Her bouncers were the toughest anywhere. Even the ones that were no higher than your knee cap – or the ones you couldn’t see.
Dixie never used magic in her own club. But the club was protected.
Because she had built it up by coming up the ranks. As a nobody from nowhere.
And that’s all she really wanted. To find out why she couldn’t remember who she was and where she came from.
(Warning: contains cliffhanger…)
Witch Mystery: Dixie – New Fiction Writing by S. H. Marpel
That shotgun in her hand transformed into a bouquet of flowers as both me and Dixie embraced each other. She was wearing a stylish night club number, black and white in a kind of leopard/snake-skin pattern, with thin spaghetti shoulder straps. Tight enough to be curvy, but loose enough to enable her to dance or conceal some weapon where it could count. Her chestnut brown hair flowed across her shoulders in big waves. Lips were full and dark red. She’s a delicious, wrapped package that told you Christmas was coming — but wasn’t to be as much as touched anytime before that.
“Who’s your navigator this time?”
I smiled and came back toward Raven, towing Dixie by her free hand. Taking my spell book back from her hands, I introduced her. “Raven, meet Dixie. The owner and manager of the best and safest magic-enabled night club on the coast – maybe in the known worlds.”
Dixie handed Raven the flowers, and looked her over with a practiced smile. “Girl, we’ve got some business upstairs.”
Smiling at the bouquet, Raven then tensed.
I smiled to reassure her.
Dixie explained what she meant. “You’ve had what looks like a pretty bad night. And while Trimble does his best, he has no real clue what makes a woman really feel like one.”
Dixie came over and put her arm around Raven’s waist. “A shower or even a tub to soak in, a decent change of clothes and some real girl talk. This is my place, and I’ve got amenities on top of amenities upstairs just to make it my home. Hope you like extra soft, fluffy towels and plush bathrobes – and maybe my stylist can help you with a trim. The girl that does my nails, well…”
Then Dixie turned her head to me as she started leading Raven away with an arm around her waist. “We’re going to be awhile, Trimble. But your place is still as you left it. I’ll ring you when Raven thinks she feels ready to embrace the world again.”
I watched them move off the dance floor to Dixie’s private elevator. And waited to move anywhere until I heard it close.
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