Magical Murder

by Ann Denton

  “You had better make sure that piece doesn’t air tomorrow. Or I will expose every filthy secret you have. And I will destroy you.” She waves her hands in big sweeping gestures. I think it’s meant to be threatening. But honestly? She looks ridiculous. She needs to practice her threats in a mirror or something.

  “What piece? What story?”

  Georgina’s in Saffron’s face the next second. “I have never drained a human.”

  Saffron’s face pales. “I would never accuse—”

  Georgina’s hand smacks her. And then the crazed woman is across the room again. She’s lucky she’s so fast. Jacob—who’s shifted—would have her neck otherwise. He stands guard over Saffron.

  Is this some kind of ploy? I watch Georgina’s hands. Is she here to plant a bug? Put a tongue-tying spell on Saffron before the debate? As if Saffron would ever accuse someone of simultaneous murder and violation of magical secrecy. This has got to be a ruse.

  I clap, drawing everyone’s eyes. “Ha-ha. Very dramatic. If you’ve put a single spell on Saffron or anyone here, that will be a violation of campaign ethics, you know.”

  Smack. Georgina’s grabbing my arm. “You—” She grabs me by the throat. “You little piece of garbage. You little slut. I didn’t know you were still in town. Didn’t know you were still alive.”

  Matthew’s called security. They finally arrive. A burly troll grabs Georgina around the waist and forcefully hauls her off me.

  Jacob’s at my side, checking my neck. “Are you okay?” His coyote voice is a bit high-pitched.

  That freaking hurt! But, not wanting to cause drama, I wave off his concern. “The bruises should be gone in a couple of hours.” The one minuscule power from my fae family. I usually mock my quick healing, since I’ve never even broken a bone. But right now, I’m thankful. Without it, I’d be keeled over begging Jacob to take me to a witch doctor this instant.

  I look around to check on everyone else.

  Matthew has Saffron’s elbow, checking to see if she’s calmed down. Sheila is taking notes rapid-fire in her notebook. She’s the only one that seems completely unaffected.

  “Well,” Sheila slams her notebook shut. “That was interesting.”

  It’s not so easy for me to shake off Georgina’s attack. Especially with Jacob eying me with fatherly concern. I grab my bag of jellybeans and tell the group, “I need a breather. I’ll be outside.”

  Chapter 4

  I go into the hall, and deliberately walk away from the beckoning fairy lights and the machine gunfire ping-ping-ping of the slots. I turn toward the construction plastic. I do not want to encounter Georgina again.

  Luckily there’s a slit in the plastic so I can escape to the rubble pile outside. It’s nearing dawn. Watching the fading stars helps me calm down. I walk away from the casino through the rubble, thinking.

  I’ve seen Georgina a couple times over the years. She’s either glossed over me in the crowd or literally not seen me. Yeah, she’s self-absorbed like that. She’s never attacked me. Never even acted like me dating her brother ten million years ago was a big deal. She must really be unhinged if little things like that are setting her off.

  I pop open the bag of jellybeans and plop down onto a broken slab on concrete. I contemplate what the stress of an election can do to a person. I hope Saffron doesn’t go mental like that. Or I’ll have to rescue Jacob and hide him in my spare room, under my massive stacks of trashy paperbacks.

  A handful of sugar. That’s what I need. I crunch the shells and let the jellybean goodness coat my tongue. I try to find my mental happy place. Which somehow must include men with bulging muscles, because I turn my head and see Hot Vamp—the guy from the courthouse. Great. I probably have concrete dust all over my butt. Don’t stand.

  “Hey, beautiful.” Those dimples tempt me. But I haven’t checked my teeth for jellybeans yet, so no way I’m smiling. Tight lipped grin only.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Stalking.” He winks. “Just kidding. Can I sit?”

  I shrug, my mind not really processing his words. He’s lost the tailored shirt and a very tight t-shirt is clinging to sculpted pecs. Oh, hotness drizzled in honey, I’m in trouble.

  Hot Vamp sits on a concrete slab about three feet away. Okay. My irrational vamp-panic meter can deal with that. It’s not too close.

  What is it about this guy? Yeah, I like drooling. But he takes temptation to a new level. I hold out the bag of jellybeans, part friendly gesture, part to put a barrier between us so I don’t yield to temptation and ruin years of hard-fought self-control. “Jellybean?”

  “No thanks.” He holds out his hand to shake. “I’m Luke.”

  I hold up sticky fingers with jellybean stains. “Can’t.” What I don’t say is that I won’t touch him, ever. Because I would not be able to control myself. Which means he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Which means …

  “Well, can I get a name at least?”

  “Lyon.”

  “No. You’re lying.”

  I roll my eyes. “Original. So original.”

  He laughs. It’s a low growly sexy sound. “Couldn’t help it.”

  Now I can’t help it. I laugh too. I can’t believe it. I’m actually interacting on a semi-normal, non-gawker, non-freakout level with a vamp. Way to go me!

  “So, don’t you need to go find a hole to hide in or something?” I flick a wrist at the sky. “Moon’s about to set.”

  He sighs. “Yeah. That’s why I came here actually. Thought I might find some peace and quiet.”

  “At a construction site? At a casino?” My eyes narrow. He was totally here for the burlesque show.

  Luke shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Cleanup crew is working another job. Won’t be here for a day or two.”

  “How do you know…? Oh, you work construction.” That explains the brawn. I try very hard to maintain eye contact. Not to picture him sweaty and dirty, ripping his t-shirt off to wipe his brow. Enough! I need a frickin’ date. That’s it. I’m asking out Alexander the receptionist. Tomorrow.

  “I actually work in management. But I really like the little blush you have going, picturing me in construction. So, we’ll just leave that image be.”

  I choke on a jellybean.

  Luke stands to help, and I wave him off with wild arms.

  “No! No touching.”

  “Okay,” He stays standing though, until it’s clear I’m not gonna die.

  “Do you mind if I ask… about what happened on the elevator?”

  I sigh. “I can’t talk about that.” I stuff in some more jellybeans to prevent myself from spilling the beans to a hot stranger.

  “Okay. But, I just really need to clarify one point. You’re not a lesbian?”

  That sets me off. I laugh so hard I choke again. And this time, I’m really choking.

  I smack my own chest. It does nothing. I can’t … can’t—

  Luke’s suddenly behind me, arms around my torso, Heimlich in process.

  Though I can’t breathe, my brain still manages to think (in its oxygen deprived state) ‘No. Get away. I don’t want to hurt you.’

  Jellybeans go flying out of my mouth. And my internal freak out suddenly becomes very verbal. “Get back! I don’t want to hurt—”

  Slam.

  I fall into the rubble, ripping my yoga pants and skinning my knee.

  A roar fills my ears. I look around. Luke’s disappeared. A gust of air presses me down into sharp bits of plaster.

  I look up. There, in the sky, is a dragon. It has Luke in its claws.

  Another beat of wings stronger than helicopter blades and I’m curled up in a ball on the rubble. Something sharp scratches at my side.

  The dragon turns, intending to fly south, and I recognize the red-black pattern of its scales. No effing way.

  I stand. “Bennett!” I shriek. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Bennett drops Luke—who would have died if he’d been human. But,
being vamp, he just starts running mid-air. He creates enough of a jet stream to control his landing. And then he’s off, a blur heading toward the wooded mountains on the outskirts of Tres Lunas.

  Bennett looks at me. Then at the trail of dust Luke’s kicked up.

  “Don’t you dare!” I scream.

  He snorts, a cloud of smoke billowing from his nostrils. It immediately makes the entire place smell like a campground. Does he listen?

  He does not. My blood boils.

  He streaks through the sky like a maniac after a perfectly innocent vampire who was just trying to stop me from choking to death. On a jellybean.

  Bennett’s following me. He’s crazy. Thoughts of restraining orders fill my head.

  But then I turn. My budding rant is cut off. Because across the pile of rubble, I see Georgina Knight.

  Her jaw drops. Suddenly, my head spikes with pain. I see red sparks. And fade to black.

  Chapter 5

  I wake up in the dark. I'm disoriented. Last thing I remember, I was outside, and it was almost dawn.

  Now, I’m in a stone room, with a packed dirt floor. No window. I sit up slowly. My head is pounding like I just fought a troll. I carefully turn my neck. I’m pretty sure my head’s about to fall off and just roll down into my lap. Seriously. It hurts that bad. But I forget the pain when I see bars.

  OMG.

  I’m in a cell. I’ve been kidnapped. Holy mother of goats. I am in some mad Frankenstein’s basement and he’s gonna—

  My monumental freak out stops when I see JR step up to the bars.

  “Hey honey,” she says softly from the other side.

  That is not the right tone for a joke. I don’t think. My head’s still unsteady. I touch the back. It hurts. Is that dried blood?

  “Where—”

  “You’re in the dungeon.”

  Jail! I’m in jail!

  “What?”

  “Do you remember what happened last night?”

  I close one eye to stop the room from spinning. “I covered for Bella. Got off work late. Went to Saffron’s meeting.”

  She nods, encouraging me. “And then?”

  “I don’t know.” The memories are hazy. “I went outside. Hot Vamp was there. Then Bennett … I passed out?” I end with a question, because I really don’t know what happened.

  “Hey!” Golem X’s voice booms from down the hall. “You’re allowed to bring her that stuff. You didn’t say nothing about talking to her.”

  “Sorry!” JR holds up a hand, placating the golem who oversees the dungeon. Golems are un-bribe-able. Apparently being made out of mud and brought to life by spells renders you immune to pleading. Emotion. Decency. Makes them great guards. Until you’re stuck in jail for unknown reasons and they don’t want to let your best friend talk to you. I glare at Golem X. He’s unimpressed.

  JR hands a narrow bag through the bars. “I brought you some stuff. A couple pillows, a blanket. Your camera. I thought it might help pass the time. They had the witch scan it all for spells on the way in. Your jellybeans were confiscated. Yum tax, they said. Sorry.”

  I take the bag. “Is this real? Like real real?”

  She sighs. “Unfortunately, hon.”

  “What happened?”

  She opens her mouth but glances sideways. Golem X must be watching. “I’ll be back soon.” Tears fill her eyes before she walks away. And that makes me very, very scared.

  Why am I in here? What’s JR afraid of?

  I’m waiting for hours in the dark cell. Fear slowly fades to impatience as I wait for someone to freakin’ tell me something.

  I stop guessing why I’m here after about hour four. They’ll tell me. I’ll make them. When someone finally shows up. Why haven’t they shown up?

  I try to get comfortable on my pillows. Can’t. Try to bunch up the rainbow quilt JR brought me so I have a seat cushion to soften the floor. Doesn’t work. It sucks. I alternate between killing my elbows by laying on my stomach and flipping through old photos on my camera and laying on my back and hurting my ass while I stare at the camera settings.

  I will never take my old mattress for granted again.

  I flick through photos for the eighth time. My hobby—twisted as it is—is taking photos of old crime scenes. I dunno why. Well. I kinda do. The rainbow splatter of ectoplasm after a ghost brawl is gorgeous. Especially at dawn. Ever seen a closeup of the fungi that grows on troll’s teeth? You can get a great shot if you find one in the field where illegal fights went down. These tiny pink flower fungi grow in the spaces between their teeth. It’s crazy cool. In a weird way, I admit. But still. I love discovering details like that. Things other people don’t see.

  I know. I’m a freak. But I have to break up the monotony of vamp-ogling sometimes.

  I flick back to a charred building that housed a witch before her spell went wrong. Not my best work. But still.

  “You should have used infrared,” a voice near my ear whispers.

  I drop my camera.

  A thin, scaly grey hand picks it up and hands it back to me. Its owner is a three-foot-tall fire salamander.

  “Who are you?” I breathe.

  “Noah.” My cellmate replies with a grin. His name is very human for a salamander. Generally his kind take a lotta joy in making us try and pronounce things like “Snnnishlsessssl.”

  “Hi, Noah. I’m Ly-ly.” I opt for friendly. “How’d you get in here?”

  “I’ve been in here.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know what to say. I mean, how self-absorbed am I not to have noticed my cellmate?

  “I’ve been on the ceiling.”

  That makes me feel a little better.

  “You should have taken that picture with infrared,” Noah gestures back toward my camera. “Witch runes show up awesome on infrared. They glow.”

  “Oh. Good tip. Never tried that. You shoot?”

  “Used to.”

  “I bet you could get amazing angles climbing up on the ceilings.”

  “Yeah, until I fell off one too many times.”

  “Didn’t think about that.”

  “Gets hard on the hips after awhile.”

  I offer Noah one of my pillows. He curls up on it and lets out a satisfied sigh. “Thanks.”

  “So, whatcha’ in for?” I sit back against the wall.

  “Arson.”

  I nod. Not surprising for a fire salamander.

  “You?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Dunno.”

  Footfalls interrupt our conversation. Noah cocks his head to listen. “Well, I think you’re about to find out.”

  Who do I least want to see in the world right now? Hint: Arnold’s a close second.

  Bennett brings the keys to my cell.

  “Fox. Come on. We need to talk.”

  I jump to my feet.

  “What’s going on? What am I doing here? Why are you stalking me? What happened? How long have I been in there? When are you letting me go? I didn’t do anything!” Words tumble out as I follow on his toes. He ignores me and it makes me feel like a yappy puppy. Which does not make me happy.

  We ride the elevator in silence, and I’m suddenly aware of how bad I smell. I’m still in my ripped clothes from last night.

  Bennett ushers me down a hallway, into a room I don’t recognize until I’m seated. Then I see the two-way glass. Shit. I’m in an interrogation room.

  “Tell me about what happened last night.”

  “You tell me why I’m here.”

  Bennett just stares.

  “I dunno. I stroked out or something. Woke up here.”

  “Did you see the victim at all?”

  “Victim? What victim?”

  My heart rate picks up. I mean, I know I was tossed in jail. But for what? Best I could come up with was trespassing or violating some kind of construction safety code. What do they think I did?

  “Georgina Knight was murdered.”

  I stand, knocking my chair back. It falls to the floor with
a dull thunk. “What?!”

  The memories flood back. I saw her. My head hurt like a mother. That’s it. Shit. They think I killed her?

  “I got knocked out.” My hand reaches toward the back of my head. Yeah, that’s got to be dried blood.

  Bennett stands and rights my chair for me. He helps ease me back into it. Normally, I’d protest, but right now I’m so in shock. I can’t even …

  “Why don’t you back up a bit. We got statements from others that you were at Saffron Watts’ campaign meeting.”

  I give him the play by play of the night after he returns to his seat. When I get to choking on a jellybean, Bennett rubs a hand over his face and groans.

  “That’s what happened? Why did you freak out if he was saving you?”

  “Because I don’t let vampires touch me,” I snap.

  “Damnit. I thought he was attacking you.”

  “Why were you following me anyway?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Oh, that pisses me off. First, he shows up my work. Then he follows me around like a crazy person. Now, he’s locked me up and is accusing me of murder?

  “Yes. You are exhibiting stalker-like tendencies. You got a job at my office. Followed me down to a misdemeanor courtroom. Followed me to that campaign meeting. Then locked me up. You are acting way more like a murderer than I am.”

  That pisses Bennett off. He leans forward and bares his teeth. “I wasn’t following you, idiot. I was following Luke Hawkins.”

  My jaw drops. “Why?”

  Bennett shakes his head and drops back into his seat. “You need to finish telling me about your night.”

  “You need to prove you’re not a stalker and that you have some kind of grounds for this arrest.”

  “You were the last person to see Georgina Knight alive.”

  “So? I was the last person to see my grandma alive, too. Doesn’t make me a murderer.”