Set My Soul On Fire

Chapter 1: Year 2125

"They have been waiting," Helen stressed. "For over four hours."

Yikes. Nobody liked to be kept waiting that long. But... "They can wait another thirty minutes," Amaya decided, thinking that another thirty minutes weren't going to make that much of a difference at this point.

Helen shook her head slowly. "Honey, I don't think they can. And I don't think you'd want them to." Amaya raised an eyebrow. "Who is it, the Pope?" She asked incredulously. It was five o'clock and she'd spent the last several hours wading through sewer water. If anybody wanted to argue with her, they wouldn't like what was said. Her filter tended to deteriorate as the day went on and more crap was thrown in her face.

Helen stared at her, wide-eyed and biting her lip. Okay. What was going on? Amaya looked at her office door again. What the hell? If nothing else, they'd probably beg her to go take a shower after she opened the door. So, she stalked over to her office, her boots squishing with every step she took, making her wince. Grabbing the door knob, she yanked open the door–and walked face-first into a brick wall.

Okay, so not a brick wall. Instead, it was a very firm, suit-covered chest.

Amaya took an immediate step back and looked up with a glare. And then went very, very still. "What the actual fuck?"

A dark eyebrow lifted. "Are you Ms. Vixen?" He sounded insultingly disbelieving. Amaya's own eyebrows shot down as she scowled. "Yes, I am. Excuse me, please." After a moment, he took a slow step back, allowing her to slip past him into her office. She could practically feel his eyes on her and fought the urge to cringe.

We do not cringe in front of him, she reminded herself, still a bit in shock over who her client was exactly. She was going to have a talk with Helen later about proper communication. The man's bodyguard leaned against her bookshelf, scowling at her. She reminded herself it was not professional to flip him off.

She sat in her chair with a grimace. A through disinfecting was going to be needed after this. "How may I help you, Mr. Laghmani?" She asked calmly, like she didn't have the leader of the entire magical community in the United States in her office, while she smelled like the sewers.

Slowly, Mr. Laghmani sat back in his chair. He looked at her like she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. She really wasn't that complicated. But him on the other hand, he was a giant question mark. Nobody knew where he came from or what he was. All they knew was that he was undoubtedly the most powerful Being in the country–maybe even the world.

The many pictures and videos of him really didn't do him justice. He was flat-out gorgeous. His hair was as dark as a moonless night. The suit he wore was tailored perfectly to his frame–and what a nice frame that was. He had a slight five o'clock shadow that made most men look ridiculous to her–on him, it was sexy. But it was his eyes that drew her in the most. They were a dark, burnished gold and utterly beautiful.

"I have a job for you," Mr. Laghmani said abruptly. Amaya blinked, having been caught admiring her–apparently–new client. "Why?" Her brain was still catching up to the fact that the magical equivalent of the President of the United States of America was in her office and asking her to do something for him. So, her question came out a bit blunt.

The bodyguard snarled. "You best be glad we didn't take our business elsewhere, with how long you've kept us waiting." And there it was. Amaya pinned him with a look. "Sir, I have spent the last 5 hours wading around the sewers, chasing bunyips. I have not had anything to eat, I have not had a shower, and the magical equivalent of the President is in my office. Do you mind?"

He backed up. Good boy.

His boss looked amused. "Apologies for my companion, it's been a long day." "Tell me about it," she muttered under her breath, unable to hold it back. Clearing her throat, she got back to business. "Anyway, why come to me? Why not the police? And don't you have your own private security team?"