by Traci Wilton
“Very. Two supposed vampires are dead and two more are still in town. I know you don’t want to think about this, but Dru can’t be crossed off your list. Or what if it was someone who just doesn’t like vampires?” Jack tossed the mouse in the air and let it spin. “Did you ask Patrick if it was Orpheus?”
“I didn’t. The chowder came and the conversation had moved on.” She hadn’t pressed, just in case it got back to Sam that she was discussing Orpheus after he’d asked her to keep quiet.
He caught the mouse and twirled it by the tail just out of Silva’s reach. She knew he was piecing together all she’d told him. Charlene had been through this with Jack a time or two.
“I think I’m right, Jack. The diamond studs were huge. If he was planning to kill Alaric, wouldn’t he stay under the radar? He was at the witch ball, partying with Brandy.”
“I don’t believe we’re dealing with great minds here.”
She chuckled. “The only men I’ve seen wearing diamonds that big are rock stars or famous athletes, not your average Joe.”
Jack rubbed his chin and stood before her. “Orpheus had his reasons for wanting Alaric dead. Jealousy. A punishment for sharing details of the vampire coven. He had a secret about Alaric that he didn’t tell you. If he didn’t do the actual deed, maybe he was working with someone, like you think. Who?”
“Elisabeta.” Charlene answered right away. “She might’ve wanted Alaric dead for replacing her with a younger, prettier, more gullible woman who turned out to be a powerful witch! Serenity is the real thing.”
“Which Alaric was not.”
Charlene got up and crossed her arms. “Serenity and her immediate family, and all their ancestors, are very powerful. He needed that power since clearly he didn’t possess it himself. When did he discover that she was a witch? Before or after Salem?”
“Why does it matter?” Jack asked. “Once he discovered it, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to introduce himself.” His expression turned stern. “I can imagine that louse enjoying the game.”
“When matters.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “I need to get Elisabeta to talk to me. She can answer that question among others. She might know Alaric’s secret.”
“She has a lot of answers. Yet she’s hiding away without talking to anybody.”
“Hiding is right. I need a good plan. That’s why I was going to drop off a note—”
Her phone rang and she put her hand to her thumping heart.
“Brandy!” She answered and put it on speaker so Jack could hear. “Hello?”
“Nothing more on where Alaric got his money, and Serenity never met an Asher through Alaric. It was a popular name in the nineties and still rising.”
Charlene sagged down into the armchair. “Oh. I guess that would have been too easy.”
“This is really starting to poison the sacred energy in our home. I don’t like the negativity. Should we smoke Elisabeta out of her hole and make her confess?”
“How? By holding a knife to her throat? I thought we were hoping that Orpheus did it.”
Brandy sighed. “I wish I could believe that. It has to be that woman.”
Charlene felt for her friend and asked in a soft tone, “How is Serenity today?”
“More tears. I think she regrets breaking up with Dru. She’s feeling a lot of guilt, but I can’t pinpoint from where.”
“That’s not good!” Jack said. “Guilt because she had something to do with killing Alaric?”
Charlene raised her brow at him.
“Tell me about this Asher,” Brandy said.
“He’s fascinated by the vampire world, to an unhealthy degree, from what I saw—although he was very polite. He convinced Celeste to taste blood the other night at a beach bonfire. And now Celeste is with him and Elisabeta at Alaric’s house.”
“No!” Brandy said loudly. “One predator dead and another to fill his cape. We can’t let that happen.”
“We can’t,” Jack agreed. “What are we going to do, Charlene?”
“Okay. Let me think. I’ll call you back, Brandy.”
She hit end and tossed her phone to the coffee table, overwhelmed for a moment by all the sadness and darkness in the world, though she did her best to be the light. “All we ever get around here is death! Sometimes I wonder why I moved here at all.”
“Don’t say that!” Jack’s voice was sharp, his eyes angry—worse, scared.
She stood up to face him, apologetic. “I didn’t mean it, Jack. You know I don’t. I love it in Salem. Being with you makes it all worthwhile.”
He lifted a hand as if to touch her cheek, then dropped it. “I was miserable before you came along. Now with Silva and you, I have a family.”
CHAPTER 16
Charlene wished she could give Jack a hug at his confession. She too felt like they were family.
He cooled the warmth in her heart with, “I think you should call Sam.”
“What?” She was sure she hadn’t heard correctly and jiggled her earlobe.
“I do.” He folded his hands behind his back and stared out the window at the oak tree, the leaves an orange-red.
“Why?” Did he believe her to be in danger?
“Ask him about the tunnels. I bet he could take you and he’d make sure you were safe. No offense to Kevin, but Sam can carry a gun with him. I have a lot more faith in a weapon against a killer than the ability to make a martini.”
Dark tunnels. Possibly dangerous. Sam would be good to have around. “I don’t know. He won’t break the rules if the tours are no longer sanctioned by the city.”
“Sam’s a detective. He is the law. Who’s going to give him a ticket?”
“Officer Jimenez might.”
Jack waved his hand. “Sam makes his own rules! I think you should follow your hunch, Charlene. You’ve been right before.”
She’d also been wrong. “If there is a physical path that hasn’t been blocked or filled in, it might explain how Alaric reached the shore . . . but so could a lot of other things. Maybe he was fast enough to walk out when the lights went off in the ballroom.”
“How long would you say you were in the dark?” Jack’s brow rose. “Five minutes?”
“Less than that.”
The clock had struck midnight when the lights had been shut off. Charlene paced behind her small love seat, trying to think of any small detail she may have forgotten. The band, the punch bowl, the photo booth, the excited people wondering if it was all part of the show.
Jack waited for her answer, his toe tapping with silent impatience.
“Maybe three minutes.”
“What happened next?”
“Stephanos pounded on the door, in the dark. There were lights from costumes and party favors, but not bright. Lucas was on the stage with the band, calling for calm, then the gorilla opened the door from the outside. It all happened so fast.”
“Then?”
“Elisabeta gasped. Serenity shouted and pointed at the cape, flush to the floor. It was obvious that Alaric wasn’t there.” She frowned. “I lifted the cape and found the stake—smaller than a baseball bat—with the red goo on the tip.”
“And called Sam.” His eyes pierced hers. Not in anger, but searching for answers.
Yet she still felt a twinge of guilt. “Well . . . yes. Just because . . .”
“You had a hunch,” Jack said definitively.
“Yeah.” She nodded and held Jack’s gaze. Even though the blood on the tip could’ve been fake, as it was Halloween, she’d had a sense that there was more to it. “But I had no idea that Alaric was dead. He might not have been at that point.”
“Did you see anything out of place?”
Charlene dredged up her memory of the ballroom just before midnight. The band had quieted; folks had stopped dancing. Celeste and Asher were there, chanting. There’d been an air of anticipation to hear the winners.
Alaric had hijacked the spotlight to make his point. “It was a crowd of people in c
ostume. Oh!” Charlene straightened, her hand to her heart. “What if Alaric never left at all, but put on a mask and melded in with the party?”
Jack swore. “Devious. Genius.”
“Both.” Charlene stepped toward her back door that led to the porch, swiveled, and returned to her door connecting to the kitchen, her mind on fire. “He needed to prove to Serenity and Orpheus that he was the real deal when it came to being a vampire. He wanted immortality but he was human.”
Jack nodded. “Why leave the bloody stake?”
She continued pacing in frustration. “I don’t know. It was O blood type, the most common.”
Jack swirled away from the window to face her. “If he was in a different costume, he could have just walked out at any time.”
Charlene wondered if Sam had thought of this already. Probably—he was the professional while she was the amateur. She sighed.
“What?”
“I need to talk to Elisabeta and get the truth.”
Jack scowled. “You can’t do any more drive-bys of the rental house, especially now that we know Asher is there. It’s possible that he and Elisabeta were in on the murder together.”
She considered the possibility. “Let’s set aside Orpheus as the murderer. Why would Elisabeta and Asher kill Alaric?”
“Anger at Alaric for choosing Serenity over them.”
“All right.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to envision it. “They killed Alaric. And then had to kill Orpheus to protect whatever secret Alaric had?”
She and Jack looked at one another—she saw in his expression that he agreed it could be a possibility.
“I need proof.” She shrugged.
“Elisabeta isn’t just going to confess. And it’s much too dangerous for you to confront her at her home. What if Asher and Celeste are there too? Three against one is not a fair fight, even with your pepper spray.”
“I’ll need to tempt her into a meeting with something she wants desperately.” Charlene tucked her hands in her pockets to warm her fingers. “Elisabeta believes that Serenity has true witch supernatural powers. Maybe I can find out if she still wants to be immortal. I know Asher does, if he’s drinking blood.”
Jack crossed his arms. “Assuming she wants immortality, what then?”
Charlene felt the hum of adrenaline course through her. “If she knew I could contact someone with great power on her behalf, it might earn me a conversation, and that’s a start.”
“I don’t like this,” Jack said. “If she is a killer, your reaching out to her is like a flag before a bull. Promise me you won’t meet her alone?”
“Promise. Brandy would come with me—but that would be more of a hindrance than help. Might start a full-out war!” She chuckled. “For the best results, it would have to be Serenity.”
She called the Flint house and Brandy answered. “I’ve been praying to the Goddess that you’ve got a brilliant plan to stop Asher and Elisabeta.”
“Well . . . I don’t know about brilliant, but I’m fairly sure it might work. I need to get Elisabeta to open up to me. I know she’d never do it willingly unless I had something special to offer in return.”
“Like what?” she asked warily.
Charlene swallowed. “Please think about this before saying no. This is hard for me to ask . . .”
“Then don’t,” she interrupted.
“Brandy, just hear me out. You can’t help me with Elisabeta, but Serenity can.” She crossed her fingers and looked at Jack. “What if we set a trap with Serenity’s necromancy powers as bait?”
“No. Just, no way. Sorry. I wanted your help to keep my daughter out of trouble—not toss her right into a boiling pot of pitch.”
Charlene bit the inside of her cheek at the dramatic response. “Just ask her if she can help.”
“No.” Brandy hung up.
Charlene gripped her phone and winced. “Not the outcome I’d hoped for. But you know what? I can suggest it to Elisabeta and see if she bites—and then I can conjure my own witch later.”
“Who?”
“I can hire Amy, Kevin’s girlfriend, for a onetime performance.”
Jack nodded but then repeated, “Even then, you can’t meet the woman alone.”
She relented at his serious expression. “Fine. I’ll see who I can drum up—but you agree that the bait to lure Elisabeta from her house is good?”
“If I wanted to be an immortal vampire and a witch offered her necromancer services, then yes. I’d jump on it.”
“That’s one hurdle over.” She blew out a breath. “How can I contact her? I don’t have her number, and I never delivered my note. I have to reach her now, or it has to wait until Friday.”
“A lot can happen in two days.”
“Like someone else dying? Or Dru going to jail? I don’t have Elisabeta’s number, but I do have Celeste’s.” She stood. “I’ll call her and see if she can get them all to meet for a drink or something.”
“In a public place.”
“Of course!”
He tugged his chin, then nodded once.
Charlene sat before her laptop and pulled up the information on her guests.
“Hello?” Celeste answered a few moments later.
“Hi! It’s Charlene—from the B and B?”
“Oh. Hello. Uh, did I forget something in my room?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “I was driving home today and saw you with Asher. Did you miss your flight back to Jersey City?” She had visions of Celeste being held against her will, though it hadn’t looked that way.
“Oh!” Celeste laughed. “No. I decided to move to Salem for a while. I just love it here and Asher . . . he’s great. I’m crashing with him and Beta until I find something.”
Beta. Short for Elisabeta. Already chummy. “I’m so glad!” Charlene tapped her nail to the keyboard. Now what? “How about I treat all of you for drinks? I’m always on the lookout for new places to show my guests, but I hate to drink alone. I’d love to get to know you better.”
“Can’t speak for Beta, but Asher’s right here. Hey, hon, Charlene wants to buy us a round of drinks. Doesn’t want to drink alone.”
She heard masculine mumbling.
“No! We are not meeting her at the Bunghole,” Celeste said, her hand partially over the phone. Then, “Oh. Okay. Charlene, next to the Bunghole, which I guess is a real liquor place that used to be around during Prohibition, is a bar called the Pirate’s Cove that Asher likes.”
“Got it. Your roommate is welcome too.” Charlene couldn’t be more suggestive than that. “Tie Elisabeta up and toss her over your shoulder” probably wouldn’t go over well.
“See you in an hour?”
“Perfect.” Charlene would have just enough time to grab a drink, then be back to take Avery home at seven.
She ended the call and faced Jack. “While I’m gone, do you mind seeing if there is even a hint of a rumor of a tunnel near the Derby Wharf?”
“You got it.” They changed places, he taking her seat before the computer. “Bring your pepper spray and tell Minnie where you’re going. If you aren’t back by eight, I’ll make a scene.”
“It’s still in my bag . . . I’ll be back before you know it!” She added the address of the bar to her GPS. Two blocks from the Commons, which put it in easy walking distance for them.
She entered the kitchen. It was odd not to prepare for happy hour as they’d done for the past week, but the chicken pot pie Minnie had made smelled savory and delicious.
“Off again?” Minnie asked.
“I’m meeting Celeste and Asher for a drink at a place called the Pirate’s Cove—just in case I don’t come back,” she said jokingly. She hoped.
“Have a good time. Text me if you need me to drive Avery, if you decide to do dinner too.”
“Thanks.” She crossed her fingers in her jacket. “See you later!”
CHAPTER 17
Charlene scored a choice parking spot in front of a ten-foot-tall one
-eyed pirate, which reminded her of Patrick and his pirate costume. She didn’t think the name very original but she was pleasantly surprised when she stepped into the bar.
The interior was gold and dark wood, pinks, purples, blues—it resembled Aladdin’s cave. Not shabby at all, but very unique ambience. Another great place to suggest to her guests.
She sat at the bar, which had six wooden barrels instead of stools, and ordered a Corona Light. A neon sign over the bar blinked red-and-black: ORDER A BACARDI SHOT FOR A CHANCE TO WIN YOUR NUGGET OF GOLD.
Fun. When the thirtysomething bartender dropped off her beer, she introduced herself. “I’m Charlene. I own a nearby bed-and-breakfast and my guests always ask for recommendations. This place is amazing!”
“Thanks. Nice tae meet ye. I’m Callum, from Plockton in the Scottish Highlands. Great place tae be from, but never tae go back. I’ll get ye a menu and the first beer is on me.” He had reddish-blond hair to his chin, two days’ worth of beard, blue eyes, and a great smile.
“No, please, let me pay. I’m meeting friends here. We might snag a table and get some appetizers.”
“Sure.” Callum grabbed half-a-dozen menus from under the counter and slid them onto the smooth wooden bar. He saw a speck on one and snatched it back, spraying disinfectant on the plastic before wiping it down with a towel.
“Did you do the décor?”
She admired the heavy drapes that floated overhead and covered the walls. A four-by-four sunken table in the center was surrounded by dozens of colorful cushions on the floor. It smelled nice and clean. Booths lined the front window.
“Aye, that was me. Bought a dive and turned it intae a magical place where ye can dream and leave the world behind for an hour or two.”
“You sure did. What made you create Aladdin’s theme?”
“Loved that tale growin’ up. I wanted tae see the world, have experiences that no Scottish laddie ever could. Me parents raised sheep.” He crinkled his nose. “I wanted tae create me own destiny.”
A dreamer, she thought. But a doer too. “I certainly wish you well. Was Salem the first stop in your journey, or have you seen the world, made your fortune?”
“I’m in the middle of me story. Plan tae stay here a few years, hopefully make some dough, and then off I’ll go again wherever the wind sends me.”
