She slid an arm around him in a side hug. “Thanks for being here,” she said. “You’re the best.”
Ben certainly wasn’t the best, but he would never do anything to dim her blissful glow, so he smiled and laughed and congratulated her again. Later, as the newlyweds exited the venue beneath an archway of sparklers and magic fireworks, he cheered until his throat was hoarse.
Then he took a rideshare car home and threw up in a bush in his front yard. Feeling marginally better after vomiting, he grabbed a glass of water, changed into pajamas, and collapsed on his brown leather couch. Bleary-eyed, he grabbed his phone and started searching for dating sites.
Bumbelina, OkEros, PaganMingle, Match.com, FarmersMarketOnly, Howly Ever After . . . none of them felt right. He sighed and switched to browsing something more practical.
The Emporium had done extremely well in recent years thanks to the quality of the plants, Mariel’s magic touch, and the rare varietals he was able to get his hands on from international connections. He’d purchased the empty office next door and would soon be opening an adjoining coffee shop and bakery, with a goal of eventually adding a small stage for lectures, music, and stand-up comedy. He wanted Ben’s Plant Emporium to become a real community destination.
Most of the construction work on the Annex—as he was calling the café space—was done, and he was now sourcing decorations. The current project was a rock-and-crystal terrarium to display succulents next to the muffins.
He’d had some luck finding bulk quantities of unusual stones on eBay, so he switched to the site, squinting through the alcohol haze. Blue sexy rock he typed in, having briefly forgotten the word crystal.
The first listing was for an old blues-rock album on vinyl, which was not helpful. The next was for an outrageously expensive sapphire that would supposedly give the wielder an erotic aura. He briefly considered it, wondering if he would have an easier time meeting women if he had an erotic aura, then decided it would be disingenuous to lure a woman in that way even if he could afford it.
The third entry gave him pause . . . and then he started to laugh.
Dark Arts Sexy Succbus She-Vampire TALISMAN PARANORMAL POSSESSED BLUE CRYSTAL DARK ARTS SEXY CONJURE ROCK
The image was of a small, faceted blue stone that looked suspiciously like plastic, and the starting bid price was $0.99. No one had bid thus far, and the listing was closing in a few hours.
Ben read the description, growing more entertained with every word. Questionable capitalization aside, the poster didn’t even know how to spell succubus, and they were trying to position this as a rare, possessed artifact.
This is a dark Vampire Succbus named Eleanora. She is 5’8” tall with flaming red hair and emerald eyes. Very sexy, comes with her own Knives. Hisses. French.
“。 . . Knives?” Ben muttered, eyeing the photo of the tacky blue “crystal.” “Hissing?”
She is very Angry in nature but at least some threats are Jokes! Good friend, maybe good girlfriend I do not know, will do Anything if you order it—bite vengeance murder Jenga Star Trek etc, Eleanora does All
“Murder?”
Dark Vampire Succbus Eleanora angry sexy French BUY NOW but BEWARE you must be firm, she has Attitude but very worth it if you want Assassin, TV watcher, best Friend, maybe-girlfriend, you will not regret it, please pay at least One Million gold doubloons, DARK VAMPIRE SUCCBUS ELEANORA
“Dark Vampire Succbus Eleanora,” Ben intoned to himself in a dramatic voice. Then he laughed, feeling better than he had since before he’d started crying on the dance floor. What a hilarious scam. He was too cowardly to set up a dating profile, but by Lycaon, he was just drunk and easily amused enough to buy a vampire succubus—or succbus—assassin girlfriend in the shape of a plastic rock for the low, low price of $0.99.
He put in his bid, then promptly passed out on the couch, still smiling.
* * *
Two weeks after the wedding and thirteen days after the worst hangover he’d had in a decade, Ben looked down at the knitting project in his lap and groaned. He’d dropped a stitch a few rows back, and now he was going to have to either find a crochet hook to fix it or rip it back at least four rows.
This project was a scarf for his mother, who had mentioned needing some new warm clothes for the winter. Next he’d make a matching one for his father and a hat for Gigi, and that took care of the first part of his holiday gifts.
He was close with his parents, as he was with his extended family in general. Werewolves were inherently pack creatures, and though Ben had long been the introvert of the family, he still had dinner with his parents and sister whenever he could get away from work—rare these days—and he was a frequent visitor at his aunt’s Shabbat dinner. His uncle had married into a Jewish family, and as a result, the extended Rosewood-Levine clan was rarely without good food to eat or something to celebrate.