Southern Belles and Spells Matchmaker Mysteries

by Amy Boyles

  I mean, she’d been married three times. Surely there was a stepchild in there somewhere.

  “No. There are stepchildren, but I don’t know any of them and they’re not exactly in the picture.”

  “You don’t know any of them?”

  Frankie shook her head sadly. “Douglas, my second husband, had three children before we married. They didn’t want anything to do with him or me. They didn’t come to the wedding, and I’m sorry to say our marriage was short-lived. So short-lived that Douglas died only a month later. Only two of his horrible children attended the funeral. Can you imagine your own child not coming to your funeral? What terrible people.”

  Sounded like it. But, still. “Surely there’s someone else…anyone?”

  Frankie shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not.” She pulled a chain from around her neck and held it out.

  At the end of the chain sat a pendant shaped like a skull. “What is that?”

  “It’s a shrunken head of an old witch.”

  “Morbid.”

  Frankie scoffed. “This is a relic filled with fire magic.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  The words ejected from my mouth before I’d had a chance to stop them. Frankie stared at me, mouth wide.

  I hiked a shoulder to my ear. “Sorry. It’s just that there’s this weird thing and I’m not supposed to take gifts from witches.”

  Frankie’s mouth turned into a sour expression. She stuffed the chain and the hideous skull back into her shirt and huffed. “I understand completely. If you don’t want the gift, I get it. Absolutely. I just thought I’d try to be nice.”

  She opened a jar of cold cream and smeared a glob across her face before she rubbed it in. “Your mother and I have never gotten along. For some reason she thinks I tried to steal William, but that isn’t true. Ever since we were young, she’s hated me. I thought I’d try to be friends with her daughter.”

  I nearly scoffed. Some friend. Frankie had hinted she knew I was interested in Thorne and yet she still threw herself at him.

  Time to steer the conversation away from all this and back to the task at hand. “Frankie, if you’re just about finished, I can take you home.”

  We left. The ride in the car was quiet, the necklace all but forgotten. As I turned the Cooper into the cluster of condos where Frankie was staying, she turned to me.

  “Do you have plans tomorrow? I’d love to get together on our day off.”

  Without thinking I blurted, “Thorne and I have plans.”

  The air chilled as if all the heat had been sucked out. The hairs on the back of my neck soldiered to attention.

  I pressed my lips together. “It’s not a date.”

  Frankie’s gaze drilled into me. I swear if she could have bored a hole into my temple, I believe she would have.

  “Not a date?”

  I scoffed. “Oh no. Not at all. We’re just getting together to discuss some business.”

  Frankie’s gaze washed from the tip of my head to my hips and back. Suddenly I regretted the toast and grits I had for breakfast that morning.

  She opened the door. “I’m sure you are. I’m sure all you’re going to do is talk business.”

  I didn’t know why I felt so guilty. Frankie had already been married three times. She had soul mates, or semi-soul mates coming out of the woodwork. It wasn’t like she was hurting for men.

  “Good night,” she said coldly.

  As Frankie walked away, my heart lurched. I suddenly felt sad for her. For all her talk and for how much she threw around her title of dame, Frankie Firewalker was lonely—lonely and sad.

  I was glad to be nothing like her.

  Chapter 8

  “Are you all ready for your date?”

  Mama just had to bring up the whole date thing, didn’t she? I wore a simple gold dress with silver jewelry, including the aquamarine heart, silver sandals and a belt. My hair was pulled up.

  I didn’t know exactly where Thorne would be taking me, but I figured I might as well look as nice as possible.

  “I guess I’m ready.”

  I sat in front of my vanity, adding the last touches to my makeup.

  Mama leaned against the doorframe, holding a cup of something. “Are you nervous?”

  “No,” I lied. “Why would I be nervous? I’m just going out on a date with a vampire.”

  She nodded. “Drink this.”

  I glanced at the teacup. “It smells like licorice. What is it?”

  “Just something to soothe you.”

  “No thanks. I’d rather have all my wits about me than to have drunk some sort of crazy potion.”

  The door suddenly widened and Rose appeared. “Thank you, House. I swear, if we ever leave this town, I’m getting myself a magical house. There’s just something so nice about the fact that it makes room for you before you even arrive.”

  Pig trotted inside. “I’m not taking Pig with me, if that’s why you came up.”

  Rose fluffed her hair. “Heavens, no. I was just going to say that Pig took the potion earlier today. See how happy and relaxed she is?”

  Pig rolled onto her back and wiggled right and left, scratching her back.

  “That is not going to convince me.”

  Mama shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  The doorbell rang. I bolted straight up. My heart fluttered in my throat. Heat crept up my neck, and my hands dripped with sweat.

  “He’s here.” I started to hyperventilate. “Here. He’s here. What do we do?”

  “Get a grip, Charming,” Rose said. “You’ve been out with him before.”

  “But not like this. Not when it’s actually a real thing. And all that.”

  Mama swirled the cup. “Sure you don’t want a little of this? It’ll help your nerves.”

  I glared at her. “Just figures you’d show up with a remedy. One I don’t know how it will affect me.”

  Rose scoffed. “It’s not like you’re going to start trying to kiss him or anything. I mean if you did, that might be okay. I don’t know. A vampire might see that as an invitation to drink your blood. Which you might want. I mean, if Thorne asked to drink my blood, I’d let him.”

  It was too much talk, and I was much more nervous than I expected.

  So before Rose could say anything else, I plucked the cup from Mama’s hand, threw back my head and tossed down the contents.

  It tasted sweet. And very much like licorice. “Yuck.”

  I wiped my mouth. The doorbell sounded again. Mama smirked. “I’ll get it. We wouldn’t want to keep our guest waiting.”

  Rose collected Pig, and the three of them went downstairs to accost—I mean welcome—Thorne.

  I smoothed my dress. The potion made my lips tingle. I ignored it and waited until I heard Thorne’s voice before I headed downstairs.

  He looked amazing in a blue shirt and blue suit—no tie. I knew I wasn’t dressing up too much when I chose my gold dress.

  His eyelids flared when he saw me and I smiled. The heat that I had felt earlier dissipated, and I felt confident and ready to go.

  Thorne greeted me with a smile. “Charming. Are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  “You two kids have a great night,” Mama said.

  “Oh, there’s only one kid there,” Rose corrected. “Thorne’s probably two hundred years old.”

  He glanced bashfully at the floor. “Not quite that old.”

  “Well, you could be,” Rose said cheerfully. “There’s nothing like the older man/younger woman combination.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m probably still a younger woman to you as well, aren’t I?”

  “No comment.” I grabbed Thorne and dragged him from the house. I waved to my family. “See you later.”

  As soon as the door shut behind us, I turned to him. “You haven’t told me how old you are.”

  “It’s good to see you, too,” he teased.

  “Sorry.”

  He opened the car door for m
e. “If you want to just cut to the part of the date where I tell you all my deep dark secrets, we can.”

  I slid onto the seat. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  The cabin smelled of him—musky with almost a citrus hint to it. The headiness of the smell made me suck air. I couldn’t just sit and think about Thorne. Not all about him. I’d lose focus, forget what was going on. Ask him to kiss me.

  I definitely didn’t need to do that. Last time Thorne and I were in a situation that might have led to a kiss, he declined, said I wasn’t ready.

  I had a feeling that wasn’t the way this night would go.

  I crossed one leg over the other and bobbed my foot to get rid of the last of my nervous energy. “So. Where are we going?”

  His lip coiled into a devilish grin. “You’ll see.”

  “Oh, I will, huh?”

  Within minutes we were climbing the side of a mountain. The sun sank fast. Yellows and pinks burned bright in the horizon.

  We reached a clearing where a waterfall sat. A table for two had been erected.

  I held in a breath. “What is this?”

  Thorne winked. “It’s how vampires do dinner.”

  “And I figured I’d be stuck eating from an empty plate.”

  Thorne scowled, and rightly so. I nudged his shoulder. “I’m kidding. It’s amazing.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Starving.”

  He braked the Jaguar and pushed the ignition button. “Let’s eat.”

  When I was half into my steak and lobster, I glanced up at him. “How did you do this?”

  The sound of the waterfall splashing was like music. Birds chirped and the sunset was gorgeous—colors smeared like a painting across the sky.

  “I have friends who are wizards,” he said casually.

  Thorne’s steak had been served bloody as they come, and he ate small bites here and there.

  “Do you like eating food?”

  He shrugged. “It depends on the company.”

  “So you’re doing this for me.”

  “Isn’t that obvious?”

  Our gazes locked, and my cheeks flamed. The potion had done a lot to calm me, my nerves, but when tension with a man reared its head, my body responded.

  I picked at my wineglass. “It’s just…does it bother you that I’m a witch?”

  “Should it?”

  I hiked a shoulder and didn’t answer.

  Thorne wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “You think it should. You think it should bother me that you’re human. That our relationship will only go so far. That I’ll want to drink your blood.”

  I dipped my chin down to hide my neck. “I don’t know.”

  “I thought I’d explained to you before that I can control my desires when it comes to that. I don’t feed every day, and I do so often enough that I don’t crave other blood.”

  He paused. “This isn’t the type of conversation I thought we’d have tonight.”

  I laughed. “You thought we’d talk about other things? You’re the elephant in the room. You’re a box of secrets, and I know almost nothing about you.”

  He shook his head. “The only thing you need to know is that I’m here with you tonight.”

  We stared at each other and Thorne laughed. “I’m joking. You want to know my history.”

  I nodded. “You know some of mine.”

  “I don’t know what you studied in college.”

  “I didn’t go to college,” I admitted. “I’ve always had matchmaking ability, so I started a business. I did take some online business classes, but that was it. I’ve always wanted to work for myself.”

  “Did you go to college?” I asked.

  “Harvard.”

  I nearly dropped my spoon. “Wow. No small potatoes.”

  “I have a law degree.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. It’s old and the person who holds it is supposedly dead.”

  “So that happened before you were turned.”

  He nodded. “That’s right.”

  The elephant in the room nearly honked his horn. Thorne’s turning hovered in the air like its own separate being, waiting to be called forward to speak.

  I must’ve looked like I was salivating to ask the obvious, because Thorne’s next question was, “You want to ask me something?”

  “No, nothing. Not a thing.”

  “You want to ask me how I was turned.”

  “The thought never occurred to me.”

  “I’d want to know,” he said, “if I were you.”

  “Well luckily,” I said in my voice that straddled the line between cocky and insanely overconfident, “I’m not anything like you. We all have secrets. I have no problem keeping mine, and I expect that you can keep yours as well.”

  We sat in silence. “I’ll tell you my biggest secret if you tell me yours,” he finally said.

  I eyed him before bursting into laughter. “Okay, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be disappointed in my biggest secret.”

  He shrugged. “If it’s about you, I won’t be disappointed.”

  My heart tightened. How was it that Thorne always knew the things to say that made my heart jump and sing?

  “Okay.” I thought for a moment. “My biggest secret is—I don’t know much about my father. I know that he knew a lot about witch history, but I don’t know to what extent.”

  I fingered the heart necklace that sat at my throat. “It’s one thing I wish I knew. The man saved my life, but so much of him is a mystery.”

  Thorne quirked a brow. “Your mother never talks about him?”

  I shook my head. “No, not really. You’d think she would but she doesn’t. Whenever I asked when I was younger, she always said she didn’t know much about his research, which I’ve just taken as fact. It’s possible what he was working on was a secret or something that needed to stay a secret. I don’t really know.”

  “And do you think it was an accident that you were almost killed by a vampire?”

  His words were a chord that plucked deep in my heart, vibrating in my body. I’d never considered the fact that I wasn’t anything but a randomly chosen feast for a horrible bloodsucker.

  “Do you think there’s more to it?” I said.

  Thorne hiked one shoulder. “Hard to say. I don’t know the vampire who did it. Plus, there are many reasons why a vampire chooses its victims. That vamp could’ve been freshly turned. A toddler or young child is an easy victim. It could have been the vampire heard your heart, smelled your blood and then followed the trail until it reached your house. Or…”

  He trailed off. I found myself clutching my cutlery and leaning forward so far my chin practically sat in my steak.

  “Or what?” I prodded. “You can’t do that, you know. Start somewhere interesting and then just stop. It’s not very nice.”

  Thorne rolled his eyes. “I had to consider what I was going to say next. I do have to think about things, you know. Not just run straight into the fire and see what happens.”

  I bristled because that was exactly how I responded to any sort of lead I had. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Pretty sure you do.” He grinned mischievously. “Anyway, what I was going to say was, or else you weren’t the initial target. You were but only in a way to get to your father.”

  My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding?”

  “Not at all.” He cut into his steak. “It’s possible that you weren’t the intended victim. You were only meant to look like it, and your father was the one the vampire wanted all along.”

  “But why would one vampire want to go after my father? And choose me instead of him?”

  “It wouldn’t be one vampire. It would be more.”

  Thorne’s words weighed heavily on me. “You’re saying it’s possible my father was targeted by a gang of vampires.”

  “Clan, and yes, I think it’s possible.”
r />   I nibbled the inside of my lip as I considered this wedge of information. “But why?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Those are questions you’d have to ask your mother. She’s the one person who was closest to him. Out of all the people you know, Glinda would have the answer. Or at least a piece of it.”

  “But why wouldn’t she have told me this before?”

  “To protect you?” He paused. “I’m not saying this is the scenario, but it’s a possibility. If you want to know more about your father, you should ask. I’m sure your mother will tell you what she knows. Or as much as she can, at least.”

  I twisted the napkin in my lap. “What does that mean?”

  “It means if your father was targeted by vampires, it’s possible that he was researching something that made them feel vulnerable. He might not have told anyone about his research, for their very protection. If the information was sensitive and your mother knew something about it, she may not say anything simply to continue keeping you safe.”

  I exhaled and sat back in my chair. My mind swirled with all this information. Things I’d never considered danced in my head, taunting me with their possible truths.

  Was it even part of the realm of possibility that my father could have been murdered because of his work? I didn’t have an answer.

  Was it possible that if my mother knew his secrets, that she kept them from me for a reason?

  Yes, that was quite possible. The most probable of all the scenarios, in fact. My mother had mastered keeping secrets. After all, she’d kept the prophecy from me for my entire life. If my father’s death hadn’t been random, my mother would know about it.

  But would she be willing to tell?

  I glanced across at Thorne. We were supposed to be on a date, not getting all twisted in the details of my father’s death. But this is how people came to trust others, wasn’t it?

  They shared things, the deepest pieces of themselves—the stuff that made you, you.

  I’d shared mine. It was Thorne’s turn now. As if on cue, Thorne said, “You want to know the story of how I was turned.”

  I slightly nodded.

  “Here it is.”