Time God Warlock [Chapter 1]

Hey peeps!

I wanted to write the first act of this real quick, LOL - there are a lot of funny scenes coming up, and sometimes humor really makes me laugh (and helps me write a ton) so that's why this is here.

This is book 4 of the Chronos Chronicles. If you haven't read it, let me know! I'll hook you up.

Shami

Chapter 1

            It had been over ten years since Adair Finch had been on a date.

            The last one was memorable for all the wrong reasons. He’d taken a girl, Hannah, to a nightclub. Nice place. Throbbing bass, overpriced drinks. And also sweaty, sexy people rubbing themselves all over everyone. Finch hadn’t expected a hag to ruin the entire evening, but in hindsight, he really should have. The hag had followed him to the club, hell-bent on murdering him. As hags tend to be.

            Unfortunately, hags also tended to carry noxious, fast-acting magical diseases. One whiff of her death-stench and the whole nightclub turned into a vomitorium. People collapsed, clutching their stomachs. Finch had never seen so much bile in his life.

            Hannah, to no one’s surprise, never called him again.

            The date before that? Finch hadn’t even realized it was a date until halfway through. A man named Joseph had stopped him at a used bookstore and asked, somewhat accusingly, why Finch was buying five books on the occult and one on goat anatomy. One thing led to another, and an hour later they were drinking overpriced espresso at a local coffeehouse during open-mic poetry night.

            Finch had been enjoying himself—right up until a half-rabid werewolf crashed through the front window and tried to host a lycanthropy giveaway. Everyone in the café could have a free bite.

            Joseph, convinced beyond reason that Finch was to blame, became a nightmare. Apparently, Joseph moonlighted as a bounty hunter for a local witch coven, and after the werewolf incident, he had decided Finch was overdue for execution.

            Which, frankly, was just Finch’s luck. Somehow, a pleasant evening had spiraled into a bounty on his head and a deeply personal vendetta from a jilted occult assassin who just couldn’t let things go.

            Those ancient memories felt like they belonged to another person entirely, though. He had been so cocky and confident—Finch had assumed everyone wanted to be with him.

            He didn’t feel like that anymore.

            So when Finch parked his car in front of the Hilton and sent Kull a text that he had arrived, his stomached knotted. This wasn’t really how he wanted to spend his Friday evening.

            But this wasn’t a real date. No. Finch never would’ve agreed to that. Instead, this was a practice date, one to show Kull what it was like to go out with a normal and stable individual. Apparently, all of Kull’s efforts to find love had been disasters in their own right, and she was starting to feel disheartened.

            Since Kull had originally been Kullthantarrick the Sneak, a mischief spirit, and had only recently inhabited the body of a human woman, she wasn’t well versed on how people handled their personal affairs.

            To make matters worse, she had taken the body of a social media star named Fox-Pistol, and she was also recognizable by most of her fans. That made most outings awkward, at best and painful at worst. She was also drop-dead gorgeous, so even if people weren’t fans already, they quickly became one while staring for uncomfortable amounts of time.

            That kind of beautiful always attracted the craziest types of people.

            “This is going to be a long night,” Finch said with a sigh.

            “Adair! There you are!”

            Kull’s voice cut through the quiet evening as she stepped up to the side of Finch’s Toyota.

            Her outfit was clearly chosen to obliterate restraint and common decency. She wore a shimmering black halter dress made of something that looked illegal in most daylight jurisdictions—tight enough to count her ribs, loose enough to swirl when she walked, and slit so high up the side it probably violated at least three of the ten commandments.

            Kull’s heels were red and pointed enough to be weaponized. Around her neck hung a delicate chain bearing a single pendant in the shape of a fox. Her lips were red enough to match her heels, her blue-gray eyes sparkling, and her vibrant red hair was pinned up with silver chopsticks, exposing her long and slender neck.

            When Kull leaned down to peer through the passenger-side window, Finch almost rolled it up out of sheer instinct. Women this beautiful were usually trouble.

            “Do I look good enough for our date?” she asked, smiling wide as she did a little twirl.

            Normally, Finch would have a quip for this, but he found himself at a loss for words. She was way overdressed for any restaurant in Stockton, California. It was the most dangerous city in the state—and tenth most dangerous in the nation—and definitely didn’t have any locations worthy of red-carpet-level dresses.

            “Well?” Kull stopped twirling, her brow furrowed.

            “You look like a million dollars.” Finch motioned to the passenger seat with a tilt of his head. “Now get in before you attract a mugger.”

            Kull’s jovial demeanor returned. She giggled as she walked around the car and then slid into the passenger seat. The scent of lavender and mischief filled the vehicle.

            Finch exhaled through his nose and turned the key in the ignition. “This is still a practice date.”

            “Yes, of course,” Kull said matter-of-factly. “This is purely for educational purposes.” She gave him the once over. “So… When I date someone, they should just basically wear what they already wear? Men don’t have to dress up?”

            Finch glanced down at himself. He wore a white button-up shirt, tucked into the fanciest pair of jeans he owned. He also had a black belt and black dress shoes, but that was about it.

            He was three tiers underdressed compared to Kull.

            “This was me dressing up,” Finch sardonically replied.

            “Oh.”

            “If I had known you were going to dress as fancy as you did, I would’ve rented a tux.”

            Kull bit her lip and frowned. “So… you’re disappointed? I already messed this up? I shouldn’t dress like this?”

            “N-No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Finch ran a hand down his face and leaned back until he was staring at the roof of his car. “I’m saying that, on dates, people should be on the same page about… their clothing. And where they’re going. And how fancy it should be. If anyone messed up, it was me.”

            Kull let out a long sigh, but her smile returned halfway through. “Humans are sooo complicated.” She playfully smacked his arm. “And you definitely didn’t mess up. You never mess up anything!”

            Finch gave serious thought to rewinding time to correct his outfit of choice. He had marked the time an hour before leaving his apartment, just for mistakes like this.

            As if she could read his mind, Kull held up a hand. “Hey, don’t go rewinding time or anything, okay? The date has to feel natural and fun. I don’t want you acting all… stiff and perfectionist on me, okay?”

            “I’m not a stiff perfectionist,” Finch said as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

            “You are after you’ve rewound time like thirty-seven times and you’re tired of having the same conversation over and over again.” Kull poked him in his bicep. “I’ve seen you. I know the expressions you make. So don’t repeat this date, okay? I’ll know if you do!”

            “Fine.”

            Kull buckled herself in and half squealed in delight. “Really? You won’t?”

            “No,” Finch said with a groan. “I won’t.”

            “Oh, this is going to be so fun! I can’t wait to see where we’re going.”

            Finch pulled away from the hotel, desperately trying to think of someplace fancy to bring Kull. He had originally intended to just take her to local Olive Garden. That was the most standard and ordinary place he thought of when trying to imagine the most average of dates.

            But he couldn’t take Kull to an Olive Garden, not when she was dressed like the girlfriend of a successful rockstar.

            Where else could he go? It had been ten years since Finch did anything like this, and for some reason, a weird sort of teenage anxiety filled him. Were those butterflies in his stomach?

            No. Definitely not.

            He would just take Kull someplace nice, eat some food, answer her questions about dating, and then take her back to her hotel. Nothing was happening. This wasn’t a real date.

            It was a practice date. There was nothing to be nervous about.

            And absolutely nothing crazy was going to interrupt them this time, because that was preposterous.