by Traci Wilton
“I don’t know, Serenity.” Her temples pounded. It didn’t look good.
“I feel like such a fool, Charlene. Mom and Grandma, they wouldn’t have been taken advantage of like that.”
If what she suspected was true, Brandy had almost been a victim of GHB too. She drank her latte. “You might be surprised. They both love you very much.”
“I know that. It’s why I don’t want to see their disappointment.”
Charlene patted Serenity’s hand. “Serenity, this is changing the subject, but I’m curious . . . what do you know about the underground tunnels?”
She straightened, alert. “Why?”
“I read a book that came out five years ago. It got me thinking.”
“About what? The tunnels are closed for good reason. It’s very dark down there, like, spiritually. Bad things happened.”
Was she talking recently? Was this a confession? No. Just . . . no way did Charlene believe that Serenity, a professed good witch in a line of good witches, would resort to murder. She had no reason.
“Have you been down there?”
“Yeah, of course. Supposedly haunted, but I never saw anything. Me and Dru used to sneak down there in high school. Everybody does it. Or they used to until the cops got more strict about it.”
Her stomach clenched. “Dru knows about the tunnels?”
Serenity got quiet. “We all know about the tunnels, Charlene. Most of them have been filled in, or the businesses have cleaned them up and use them for storage. No gold, no ghosts, no secret passageways.”
End of that subject. “Can I get Dru’s phone number from you? I have some questions about them and maybe he can help.”
Serenity scribbled his number down on a piece of paper and handed it over. “There, I’ve given you his number and now you need to do something for me. Help him. He’s missed work all week. Personal time. He’s afraid to go in, in case the police are after him. He can’t lose his job at the museum.”
Charlene finished her latte, eager to get home to Jack with her theories, but she had to be sure of something. “What do you mean, that you can’t remember pieces of the night?”
“No matter how hard I try, I can’t recall things . . . like, I was supposed to meet Alaric at twelve-ten at his house. That was the plan.” She lifted her gaze and Charlene glimpsed terror. “He wasn’t there when Elisabeta and I got there. What happened to him? I don’t know. Did I—”
“Serenity, listen to what you’ve just told me. You were with Elisabeta the whole time, or at the ball in full view. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I ran ahead of Elisabeta to the rental house, terrified by the stake. How did it get there? Alaric wasn’t there. I vaguely remember Elisabeta telling me to calm down. She gave me some water, but then I ran.”
“You didn’t stake him. I promise. There wasn’t time for you to stab him when the lights were out. The stake was a prop from the photo booth. Somebody set that up.”
“I was very vague with the police.” Her eyes darted. “I honestly don’t know where I was until three that morning.”
Her stomach churned. “Were drugs used for the rituals?”
“Not that I took or saw. Craziest thing Alaric wanted me to do was drink blood, and I passed on that . . . I said I wanted to wait until after the ceremony.” Serenity shivered, her nose curled. “Still can’t believe what an idiot I was to go along with that. I hate the blank spaces in my mind.”
She hadn’t had Alaric’s blood like Elisabeta thought.
“I suggest talking with your mom and grandma—maybe there’s a spell or something they can use to bring back your memory.”
“I can’t talk to them. Or the police.” Serenity curled another strand of hair around her finger, eyes wide. “I can’t go to jail.”
CHAPTER 21
Charlene put a hand over Serenity’s and realized they were cold and shaking. “I’ll help you anyway I can. Serenity, what if Alaric put something in your tea, or your mouth, that first instant he met you? You wouldn’t notice, if it was just a little bit.”
“You think he drugged me.” Her eyes widened and she shook her head, but then stopped.
“I think he knew you from New Orleans. I think he targeted you.”
Shock emanated from Serenity. “How? I’ve been over that with Mom and Grandma. I don’t let people know that I’m a witch, duh. You’d have to know me personally.”
“I’ll go with you to speak with Detective Holden,” Charlene said. “He’s got your best interests at heart.”
Serenity stood up, pale and distressed. “I don’t think so, Charlene. He wants to pop someone in jail—and I’d be handing myself over on a platter.” She grabbed her jacket and bag. “I’ve gotta go.” She turned and rushed out of the coffee shop like a ghost was chasing her.
Charlene brought the mugs to the counter, her thoughts spinning. Her appointment with Kevin wasn’t until noon, so she went home, knowing Jack would be anxious to hear about their conversation.
Out on the street she patted her jacket pocket where she had Dru’s number. She was in no condition to talk to him, but it was like a scratch-off lottery ticket—she wanted to see if the number would be a winner. She called and it went to voice mail—she left a message. Hopefully Serenity would convince him to talk to her.
The minute she opened her door, Silva pounced on her. This was a new trick of hers—she’d hear the sound of Charlene’s car, then hide behind a plant near the doorway and make a sneak attack.
Minnie stepped out of the kitchen. “Good thing you’re home,” she said in greeting. “We’ve had a few calls this morning about renting rooms next week. I wrote their information down.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Our new crowd loved the pumpkin muffins.”
“Thanks, Minnie. You’re a champ as always.”
She curled her arm to show her muscle and grinned. “You just missed Detective Hottie on the house phone. Told him you were out and he didn’t seem too pleased. You better call him back.”
True to his rules, he hadn’t used her cell number. Nothing personal. Business.
“Not sure if I want to face a snarling Sam right now, but I’ll take care of it after I speak with our prospective guests.” She picked up the notepad with the list and smiled at Minnie. “You have any leftover breakfast?”
“Sure. There’s plenty of muffins and some fruit.”
“I’ll just grab a small plate and take it to my room to record our guests on the computer. We should send Christmas cards this year to each of them.”
“And who is ‘we’?” Minnie shook her head and muttered to herself, fixing a plate for Charlene. “Here you go. Would you like coffee with that?”
“No, thanks. Just water.”
“Of course.”
With a full plate and a bottle of water, Charlene made her way to her suite. She entered expecting to see Jack, but he wasn’t there. She went into her bedroom, removed her boots, washed her hands, and headed for the sitting room, hoping her full-time guest would make an appearance.
She took a seat at the computer and ate her “now brunch” as she ran through her scheduled guests, noting the free days and rooms. Pushing the plate away, she returned each call. In less than an hour she had the B and B half full for the next two weeks. She’d expected a lull until the first two weeks before Christmas, but this extra money would keep the bankers happy.
“What are you grinning at?” a voice she was accustomed to asked from behind. She felt that familiar chill and spun around on her chair.
“New bookings,” she told Jack.
Jack sat on the love seat since she’d claimed the computer’s leather chair. “How did the coffee date with Serenity go?”
“I’m scared for her, Jack.” She leaned toward him. “Serenity told me that she has gaps remembering what happened that night. All it would take is Alaric slipping a drug into her latte or tea unnoticed, and she could be rendered helpless. You should have seen her expression when she realiz
ed he might have drugged her without her consent. She didn’t need or want drugs and was adamant.”
“It’s very widespread, unfortunately, and often the male counterpart is never charged.” Jack clenched his jaw. “She had no knowledge of the drugs as her memory was wiped clean.”
“It wasn’t his charisma or extreme arrogance that gave him power over women,” she spoke slowly, understanding for the first time. “That vampire act was a show. It wasn’t magic or great power, but a roofie.”
“Gamma hydroxybutyrate acid, or GHB. I’m ashamed of myself for not questioning this before.” Jack covered his face with his hand.
“Don’t blame yourself, Jack. We all believed what she told us—no drugs.” Charlene gnawed at her bottom lip. “At their first meeting he took a drink of her soy latte and kissed her. Could have done it right then. It would explain their ‘chemistry that was off the charts,’ right?”
“Agreed. Small doses that she wouldn’t notice, working his image as the sexy vampire to heighten her libido—in conjunction with the drugs.” His upper lip lifted. “This conflicts with the empathy I feel for him as a child.”
“Alaric would keep away from her family as much as possible. If they caught on to him, they’d destroy him. He was smart enough to know that.”
“Exactly. You’re getting good at this.” Jack had a hint of pride in his eyes.
“Why, thank you, sir.” She jumped out of her chair. “Can’t Serenity be tested so we’d all know for sure?”
“Too late for that. That type of drug is normally out of the system within twenty-four hours.” Jack put a finger to his lip. “Elisabeta is still living in the house they rented. Would she admit to drugging Serenity against her will?”
“No way. She’s still loyal to Alaric; don’t ask me why. She does the drugs, remember? For her orgies.” Charlene and Jack exchanged a look. “That doesn’t sound so good. What if they are doing that to Celeste now? We, or I, have to get her out of there.”
“Agreed, but you can’t do this alone.” Jack appeared to her right, at her desk. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I can ask Kevin if he’ll help when we do the tour. Which means I should leave soon. I also need to call Sam. I want to protect Celeste as well as Serenity. I don’t think Sam knows about the gaps she had the night Alaric was killed. If it was done against her will, she can’t be guilty, right?”
Jack gave her a compassionate half-smile. “Can you put Sam off until later?”
“No.” She went to the door and opened it.
“You want privacy?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Tell Inspector Clouseau to hurry up and solve this before we embarrass him again.”
“Not so funny,” she whispered and closed the door behind her. Jack put Sam down because he was jealous.
Minnie looked at her strangely. “Thought I heard you talking to somebody. You all right, dear?”
“Yeah. Just have something on my mind.”
“Can I bring you a tea and a sandwich? You don’t eat often enough.”
“Tea sounds nice. I still have to call Sam, and I don’t want to.”
“Why on earth is that?” Minnie put a hand to her ample chest. “He’s a darling man and very fond of you. Come on, admit it. You might be developing feelings for him too. That can get confusing at times. You may think you’re not ready—”
“Minnie, thanks for your concern, but I just need tea and some of your lemon cookies that I spotted earlier. Please?”
“Fine!” Minnie huffed and marched back to the kitchen.
Charlene leaned back in the heavily upholstered chair near the fire and closed her eyes for a second. What could Sam want? Was he going to tell her something about the case, or ask where she’d been?
She hated his questions because most of the time he didn’t like her answers, and then she’d get in trouble again. How she constantly put herself in danger, how it was his business and hers was running the bed-and-breakfast. Yada, yada.
After Minnie dropped off the tea and cookies—nose high—Charlene took a long sip of the herbal tea, hoping it might soothe her nerves.
She pressed Sam’s number and waited to hear his grumpy voice.
“Hey, Charlene! Thanks for calling me back. My sister Sydney, you remember her and Jim?”
“Yes, of course. How are they?”
“Doing great. They wondered if they could book a room over Christmas and asked me to check with you. Otherwise they’ll look for another hotel in town.”
“Oh no, they won’t!” She laughed, feeling better already. “Tell them I’ll reserve a room right away. Do you know how many nights they plan to stay?”
“Three, then they’re headed to Boston.”
“Great.” She bit into her lemon cookie.
There was a pause that turned awkward as it lengthened.
“Did you want to ask me something else?” Charlene asked. “Or should I come to the station?”
His tone shifted from friendly to official. “I have another question about Carl, aka Orpheus. You were the last one to see him, and Brandy of course, but I don’t think she’s a reliable witness.”
“Why? Because she’s a witch?”
“No,” he drawled extra-patiently. “Because her daughter is involved and her views might be tainted.”
Serenity had expressly told her not to discuss her situation with Sam. She cleared her throat. “I have to meet Kevin in a few minutes. He’s taking me on a tour of the tunnels. Aboveground.” So far.
“Why?”
“I met with Dr. Steel, the author of Salem Confidential, and he told me about the underground tunnels and some of Salem’s more notorious history. Rum smuggling, pirate treasure.”
Sam blew out a breath. “The tunnels are closed, Charlene, for a reason. They are dangerous—”
“I know!” She cut him off before he could lecture her. “How about I stop by after I do the tour with Kevin?” That way if there was anything good to help the case, she could tell him right away.
“Don’t go getting into trouble, Charlene. And remember to keep our conversations confidential while you’re with Kevin.”
“I know. Can your question wait?”
“Yes.”
“Talk to you later!” When she clicked off, her mood had lightened and she couldn’t deny that surge of anticipation. Maybe that’s exactly what the doctor ordered. A few laughs with Sam once this was over.
Charlene took note of the gray, dreary sky and grabbed a foldable umbrella. She dropped it into her bag, next to the pepper spray—the two looked similar in shape and size, black, cylindrical, with a red button. Her book by Dr. Steel was already there for her and Kevin to use.
She parked in the lot near the Hawthorne Hotel and went inside. Had the ball only been a week ago? Peeking in the cute windows as she rounded the corner, Charlene entered the hotel off of Hawthorne Boulevard.
Kevin wasn’t in the lobby so she wandered into the bar. Made of wood and with a large fireplace, it was a cozy watering hole frequented by locals as well as guests of the hotel. The food was tasty and artistic.
She stepped back into the lobby, eyeing the Victorian love seat where Serenity and Alaric had snuggled so close. And now, Alaric was dead and Serenity a person of interest in the tragedy.
Shaking off the sadness that accompanied death, Charlene went into the ballroom directly behind the bar, which seemed massive without the people inside dancing and partying, celebrating Samhain and Halloween.
The far right corner was where the band had been; the far left, the photo booth and the long table for the punch bowl of sangria.
Small tables had been along the back wall for folks who needed a break from the dancing. The mezzanine on the second floor overlooked the ballroom.
Charlene crossed the long wooden floor to where the tall vampire, probably Asher, she realized now, had drawn the pentagram. Nothing remained of it now. It must have been part of the spell by Serenity and washed away the ne
xt day by the cleaning crew. She got down on her knees to inspect the floorboards—they weren’t even loose.
“Now why am I not surprised to find you in here?” a masculine voice asked as he entered the ballroom.
She sat back on her heels and sucked in a startled breath. “Kevin!”
“I’m assuming you aren’t searching for a lost contact? I missed one heck of a party.” Since Kevin also worked as a paranormal tour guide, Halloween was the busiest night of the year for him.
Charlene laughed self-consciously and rose from her kneeling position. “This is where Alaric disappeared. Nothing to be seen after his theatrical performance, except the cape, the stake—which was a prop from the photo booth—and this empty space on the floor.” She pointed to the far corner.
She crossed the wood floor to where the photo booth had been to search around, not sure what she was looking for. There hadn’t been blood, other than the tip of the stake. Six inches of carpet surrounded the very edge of the dance floor like a low-pile picture frame.
“What do you hope to find?” Kevin asked as he joined her in studying the floor.
“A secret exit,” she rattled off. “A trapdoor. A way for Alaric to escape.”
“The library is directly below us.” Kevin raised his brow. “Walk me through what happened that night and where.”
She liked that he didn’t automatically discount her idea. “Alaric stood where I was kneeling, speaking in a commanding voice to the people, saying his name over and over again, until they started chanting it too. Orpheus was by the band. The dance floor was crowded but Alaric had everyone enthralled.” She glanced up, feeling the color fade from her cheeks, her stomach woozy. “We have learned since that Asher had drawn the pentagram, and he was the one who got people chanting. He was counting down to the stroke of midnight. The lights went out. Brandy, Stephanos, and I were by the door, which was locked.”
She and Kevin walked around the room. Large windows gave a view of the street and the Commons beyond.
