I stood on the pavement outside the Burlesque Club not quite understanding what had just occurred. Charl had agreed with Dimitri. He had argued that the risk against our clients was too high and that I needed to stay within their compound so that I could begin my various spells of protection immediately.
I replayed the conversation in my mind once again - perhaps I missed something, or simply misunderstood?
The phone rang once before Charl’s smooth voice echoed down the line. He had been waiting for this call, had probably already followed the various threads to determine the most favourable outcome.
“Charl,” I spoke fast, my throat constricting under the weight of everything that had happened. I swallowed past the lump and continued, “Dimitri is requesting that I reside at their compound. We ran into an unfriendly Witch here and she seems to have been hired by their opposition.”
I exhaled, my body sagging in relief that I was able to articulate it all - and accurately - over the phone.
Charl remained quiet, his brain working in overdrive as he thought.
“Fine,” he conceded.
“Fine?” I spluttered.
“Yes, Corinne, fine - go stay with them.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
“We don’t stay with clients,” I seethed.
“Yes,” Charl bit back, just as angry, “we also don't antagonize other Witches and open war upon us, but here we are, Corinne.”
“Are you joking?” I hissed, “You’re blaming me?”
He was silent for a beat too long before he finally sighed down the line, “Look Corinne, you’re allowing your emotions to get to you. It is easier to protect and defend one home instead of two. If you remain separated, you are putting everyone at risk.”
I remained quiet, hoping that Charl would retract his statement.
"Goddamit, Corinne, there's more at stake here than you realise," he admonished over the phone, "and I have no doubt that you will benefit from this client more than the Club itself.”
“They are criminals,” my voice wavered down the line and I shut my eyes against the onslaught of emotion.
I hated feeling this way. I hated feeling helpless.
“Everyone’s a criminal, Cor, some crimes are simply worse than others,” his voice sounded sad and distant, and I knew before he hung up that he was experiencing one of his episodes.
My anxiety swarmed, threatening to cripple me. My emotions were bouncing all over the place and not for the first time, I wondered if Charl even cared about me. Not The Empress, not even the rich girl, but me. Had I even earned my position within the Tarot Club, or if it was simply handed to me because of my family’s connections. I wished I could trust Charl. I wished he wasn’t such a liar, but mostly, I wished that he cared more about the people in the Club than the clients and Club itself.
My mind was still reeling with the fact that Charl had agreed with Dimitri over me. He had agreed that I should stay within their compound - which was virtually unheard of within the Tarot Club. And now I would have to follow through - or throw in the towel right here on this shitty pavement in New Orleans.
I swallowed my pride and deftly buried my self doubt deep within, promising myself that I could pull it out later that night and reexamine my insecurities. Dimitri’s expression had not changed, and really, why should it when he knew that he would win this round. It was damn infuriating.
The Tarot Club walked a tight line, straddling business and Magick, skirting the laws, and abiding by our own rules that we created. We were a law unto ourselves. The Club didn’t have many rules, but the ones that we did have, we upheld. Which is why this entire situation had me reeling. I knew that Charl was holding out on me in terms of information, which only irked me further, and once more, I had to chastise myself for my thoughts on whether Charl was holding back information because I somehow wasn’t worthy of him and the whole goddam Club or if he simply didn’t give a shit.
Charl had argued that it was easier to protect - both physically and Magickally - one location, especially with a Voodoo Priestess in play. Did she know who I was? Did she know about the Club? There were too many unknown factors, plus the client’s business interests thrown in the mix, that I knew that staying in one location made sense. I just didn’t like it. And even though I knew it was the rational decision - the best decision really - when I looked at Dimitri, my stomach twisted upon itself.
That was how I found myself back in my hotel room in the French Quarter, repacking my suitcase that I had only just unpacked entirely that afternoon. Dimitri loomed ominously against the doorframe, his grandfather and their driver opted to wait downstairs with strict instructions to not leave their vehicle. I didn’t have it in me to tell them that Magick did not work that way. It wasn’t a bullet that a physical barrier could protect against, rather the protection needed to be created and maintained using an array of tools. All unorthodox practices, of course. Grandma Sue was turning in her grave just at the thought of it all.
I huffed in annoyance as Dimitri watched me with hooded eyes as I flung items of clothing back into my bag. My movements were haphazard and messy - hardly ladylike, but then I didn’t fit most of the mould that was expected of me, and I was panicked because I didn’t know if I could do this job, and Charl had been no help whatsoever.
Squaring my shoulders, I marched with purpose to the drawer I had shoved my lingerie in. Sliding it open forcefully, I scooped up a handful of lacy underwear and marched back to my suitcase that lay open in the middle of the bed. I was aware of his gaze, watching my every move. I mentally scolded myself for feeling - embarrassed? Nervous? I wasn’t even sure. But I did know that I shouldn’t feel embarrassed - and certainly not due to Dimitri. I was grateful that he remained silent, I didn’t think I could handle his patronizing remarks, not after everything that had just occurred.
I was feeling raw. I could lie to myself, presenting a fantastic argument as to why the Voodoo Priestess made me feel uneasy, but the truth was much more pathetic. It rested with Charl. He, and the Club, had become my chosen family - my safe space, and tonight, Charl had Demonstrated how little that actually meant. Dimitri and Arlo were criminals, and yet, he still encouraged me - ordered me - to stay with them. And if he really cared - as a family member would, he wouldn’t have sent me to New Orleans to read for the goddam mob. No amount of money could be worth our safety.
It was getting to the point where I could no longer make excuses for him - his madness could only be used as a crutch so many times. At some point, I needed to wake up and see things for what they were. And the stark, nauseating truth was that Charl was a self centred prick who had become high on the power of managing the Club - of managing the Magick.
As I turned, I came face to face with Dimitri. He bit down on his lower lip and I found the movement distracting. His lips were full and lush and for a minute, I became mesmerized - embarrassingly so.