Null Witch: Secondhand Magic #1

by Lori Drake

  The new phone was considerably flashier than the old one. Truth be told, I was overdue for an upgrade anyway. I stopped off at home for lunch and to sync the new phone with my laptop.

  I had a bunch of things I’d planned to do that day, it being my day off and all, but I began to doubt I’d get any of them done. Most of them had been supplanted by one crucial task: find Dan.

  I started by calling each of the local casinos. There aren’t any in Santa Fe proper, but if you go a little bit north of town there are a few. Unfortunately, none of them were willing to page the casino floor for a guest, and of course the ones that also had resorts attached wouldn’t tell me if they had any Davenports in residence. I didn’t even try; that was more of an in-person sort of thing, when I could at least flash my ID and play the family card. I’d just have to start with the closest one and work my way out.

  Before I left, I called Liam. His voicemail picked up quickly, so he was probably on the line already.

  “Hey Liam, it’s Emily. Could you text me Dan’s number? It’s important. Thanks.”

  Short and to the point, that’s me. He’d have questions, but I had shit to do. Namely, slipping into something a little less comfortable.

  I’m not one of those women who takes forever to change clothes and “put on her face,” so within about fifteen minutes I was ready to head out. Taking a last look in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door, I tilted my head and turned a little, inspecting the goods.

  “Not bad, Em…” I’m not really prone to talking to myself all that often, but there wasn’t anyone else around to admire my handiwork at the moment. I’d picked out a pair of black skinny jeans and a tailored blouse, the darts along the torso accentuating my curves. I had the sleeves partway rolled up and an extra button undone to great effect. If I did say so, myself. One of my favorite turquoise pendants on a thin silver chain drew the eyes naturally down the V neck of my shirt, which I thought would serve me well with the front desk clerks. I wore my shoulder-length blond hair down, and a few quick twists of the curling iron had given it a little texture. I’d used some light base to cover the freckles on my face and went a little heavy with the eyeliner to give my boring brown eyes a little more drama. A touch of lipstick was all I’d needed to finish it.

  My phone had been conspicuously silent the whole time. I thumbed the home button on my way down the hall, but there were no new messages. Well, at least I hadn’t gotten all dolled-up for nothing. Grabbing my coat and keys, I headed out to start the search in earnest.

  The Camel Rock Casino was just a few miles up Highway 285 north of Santa Fe, one of a dozen or so tribal-run casinos in New Mexico. It was owned and operated by the Tesuque Pueblo and named after a distinctive rock formation easily visible on the other side of the highway. The Tesuque Pueblo dates back to the 13th century CE as a settlement, though the Tesuque people themselves didn’t settle there until the 17th century.

  How does a white girl from Boston know so much about local native history? Because I gave a shit and looked it up. It’s fascinating, at least to me. But history was always one of my favorite subjects, so maybe I’m a little biased.

  What Camel Rock didn’t have was a hotel on the premises, so my front desk schmoozing would have to wait for the next stop. Walking onto a casino floor was always a little jarring. The lights, the sounds, the smells, it can be overwhelming if you’re not expecting it. I’d been there before, once or twice, but gambling wasn’t my thing. It felt like throwing perfectly good money away, but maybe that’s because I wasn’t good at it, and I didn’t have a ton of extra cash to burn. There are the pure chance games, of course, but those are heavily weighted in the house’s favor.

  The air was thick with magic, anti-cheating and anti-tampering wards on every machine and table. High up on one wall were a long bank of mirrors that I suspected were actually one-way windows. I imagined a room full of video screens behind them, being watched by mundane security specialists while stony-faced witches watched the floor directly for signs of magic use that would distort the video image and make it difficult to see what was going on. It wasn’t just bad form to cast spells in a casino. It could get you thrown out. The particularly hardcore establishments would stop anyone on the way in that had any type of active spell or charm on them, refusing them entry unless they dispelled it.

  I decided to start in the bar, not knowing what sort of games Dan would most likely be playing. My eyes scanned the tables as I strolled into the bar, looking for a familiar face and wishing I’d thought to look for a recent photo of him in one of Liam’s emails before I left, or at least took the time to set up the mail app on my phone so I could now. Dan was fourteen years old the last time I saw him in the flesh, but I was sure I’d still recognize him if I saw him.

  I tried not to make eye contact with anyone as I scanned the room, but couldn’t entirely avoid it. Once or twice, I got an inquisitive smile for my trouble. I made it a point not to smile back. No reason to be overly encouraging. Ending up at the bar, I lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention. Always best to order a drink before someone tries to buy one for you. Nothing in this world is ever really free.

  “Ginger ale, please,” I said to the bartender when she finished up the customer she was pouring for and wandered down to help me. She had that chiseled jaw and dark hair/eyes so common to Native Americans. On her, it was more handsome than beautiful.

  “Opening a tab, sweetie?” she asked, and her voice was much deeper than I expected.

  “No thanks,” I answered, fishing out my wallet to hand over my credit card. While my drink was poured, I was completely distracted trying to figure out if the bartender was a man or a woman. They just had this total androgyny thing going on. It was fascinating, and that’s probably why I didn’t pay any particular notice to the man in the brown leather jacket slipping up to the bar beside me until he spoke.

  “Excuse me.”

  I turned, looking over at him with a polite refusal of whatever it was he wanted ready on my lips. But it wasn’t me he was talking to. It was the bartender.

  “Be right with you,” they said, setting my drink on a napkin in front of me. There were two cherries impaled on a tiny plastic sword floating in there with the ice. Nice touch.

  The man beside me nodded and looked up at the television over the bar, watching the football game that was playing while he waited. He appeared to be in his thirties, with laugh lines framing his mouth and a full head of short dark hair. He wore a button-up shirt and jeans under his leather jacket, and a necktie was askew beneath his collar. I couldn’t quite tell if he was Hispanic or Native American, which could be problematic in this region. Much like the bartender, he had a chiseled jaw, but he also had a neatly trimmed mustache riding his upper lip. Native American men tend to prefer being clean-shaven. It’s a common misconception, as a result, that they can’t grow facial hair. Random trivia. You’re welcome.

  The bartender returned with my credit card slip and card, sliding them across the bar to me. I thanked them before they turned to the man next to me.

  “What can I get you?”

  I was barely paying attention at this point, busy signing for my eight-dollar (?!) drink and making a mental note to keep the receipt. When this mess was dealt with, maybe Dan would reimburse me for my trouble.

  When I looked up again, the man beside me had placed a photograph on the bar and was sliding it across toward the bartender. It was one of those grainy security camera still frames, and difficult to process upside down, but I watched curiously while the bartender picked it up and looked at it before shaking their head and sliding it back. This time it was right side up, and I glanced at it again, choking on my drink as my brain processed the image of Victoria, very much alive and animated, walking into this very casino on the arm of one Daniel Davenport.

  I set my drink down quickly, covering my mouth with the other hand while I coughed a few times. Both the bartender and the man beside me glanced over at me. Heck, the
guy even thumped me on the back helpfully.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah… sorry… wrong pipe,” I managed to choke out, reaching for a napkin to wipe some of the sugary liquid I’d suddenly spit out from my face. He eyed me briefly, then turned his attention back to the bartender.

  “If you remember something later…” He pulled a little business card wallet from his jacket pocket and offered his card. I wasn’t able to get a good look at it, but the bartender pocketed it before heading off to take care of another customer.

  Me, well, I recovered what scraps of dignity I could and sipped my drink again, trying to clear my throat.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” The man asked, looking over at me as he tucked the photo back into an inner jacket pocket. I assured him I was fine, and he nodded before moving off toward the casino floor.

  When I could breathe again, I took a really deep breath and let it out slowly before turning from the bar with the rest of my drink in hand. If Dan was here, the stakes had just gone up. I was pretty sure I’d just met the jilted husband that wanted to kill him.

  Chapter 10

  I wasn’t sure what direction the man from the bar had gone when he left. I glanced around as I exited but didn’t see him anywhere. Not a surprise, really. Casinos are great places to disappear even if you aren’t trying. Hopefully, that worked in my favor too. I attempted to melt into the crowd, moving past the machine gaming area and in the direction of the dealer-manned tables. I didn’t know if Dan was a slots or video poker kind of guy, but if I were a betting woman, I know where my money’d be. You can’t charm a machine, so he’d probably stick to games with a human dealer.

  My eyes skimmed the crowd, skipping anyone that didn’t have that telltale magical signature of a witch. There were only a dozen or so of them in this part of the gaming floor, and I managed to rule a number of them out by gender. If Dan had become Danielle, I’m pretty sure Liam would have mentioned it. Then again, maybe it had been in one of those holiday updates I hadn’t read. If I hadn’t seen that photo in the bar I’d have way more cause for concern.

  I sipped my drink as I moved from table to table until I finally caught sight of my blond-haired younger brother playing blackjack and flirting with an older woman wearing enough jewelry that it was a wonder she could hold herself upright. There wasn’t a trace of gray in her brown hair, but the lines on her face belied an otherwise carefully cultivated youthful couture. As for Dan, well, he looked pretty much the same as the picture except in living color rather than black and white. His blond hair was just short of falling in his eyes, and his brown eyes were warm and sparkling with humor and mischief. He was wearing a pair of slacks and a turtleneck, clean-shaven and hale. I admit, part of me had wondered if he had run into the same trouble his paramours had. Fortunately, the evidence was to the contrary; that spark of magic was still alive and well in him.

  “There you are!” I said as I approached, gaining at least a little smug satisfaction when Dan turned and looked at me blankly for a moment before he recognized me.

  “Emily! Hey!” He flashed me a boyish grin and turned from the table to greet me.

  “Daniel,” I said, stepping forward to give him a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek. I wasn’t feeling particularly warm toward this reunion, but it gave me a chance to get close enough to murmur, “We need to go. Now.”

  If Dan was surprised by the manner of greeting, he hid it well. “Oh, come on. I’m on a hot streak here thanks to my lucky charm.” His eyes roved to the cougar on his right, and he smiled charmingly at her. She smiled back, toying with the straw in her drink.

  I smiled, though I’m sure the sentiment didn’t quite reach my eyes, and set my drink down on the table. “Sorry,” I said to the older woman, raking Dan’s chips off the table and shoving the tray at him. “Time to cash out.”

  I grabbed his arm and all but bodily hauled him from the table. He went along without much more than a token protest, obviously having no care for the urgency I sought to convey.

  “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?” he asked while we made our way to the cashier’s window.

  “Looking for you, dumbass.”

  “Now that’s the charming sister I remember,” he teased, still grinning like this was a great game to him. I glanced over at him and caught him making eyes at a young brunette in passing. “But really—”

  He didn’t get any further, because I saw the man in the leather jacket heading our way. Grabbing Dan, I turned and put my back against a nearby pillar, pulling him close so his back was to the man about to pass nearby.

  “Look, I’m not saying you aren’t totally smokin’ but I’m not a ‘keep it in the family’ kind of guy,” Dan said, still wearing that careless grin.

  I wanted to slap him. Instead, I glared at him and reached up to take his head between my hands. I tried to make it look to passers-by that I wanted to kiss him rather than pop his head off, but it was tough. “There’s a man here showing your picture around. A picture of you with a dead witch. You know something about that?”

  His smile faded. He started to turn his head to look over his shoulder, but I tightened my grip to keep him looking at me.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said. “Because I know this isn’t the time or place. But when we get out of here, we’re going to have a long talk.”

  He recovered smoothly, but his smile was thinner as he shrugged and said, “Whatever you say, big sis.”

  Rolling my eyes, I risked another glance over his shoulder and saw the man moving away from us now. “Okay, let’s go.”

  I linked my arm with his this time, and within minutes we were cashed out and heading out to the parking lot. I jerked my arm free of his as soon as we exited the building.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “That depends. Where are you staying?” I automatically started in the direction of my car. It wasn’t snowing at that moment, but it was still cold, so I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my re-donned coat.

  “Hotel.” He shrugged. “You?”

  “Home. I was hoping for something a little more specific.”

  “So was I.”

  I was frustrated again, and we hadn’t even made it to the car, so I pressed my lips together and said nothing more until we got there. He still hadn’t offered any clarification, and when I stopped by the car to look over at him, he was looking around casually like he hadn’t a care in the world. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how he got himself into this situation.

  “So, you’re not going to tell me which hotel? I could drive you back. We could talk on the way.”

  “I’d rather see where you live, if it’s around here.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  He gasped and pressed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

  “Fuck you,” I spat, and this time I was pretty sure the shock on his face was genuine. Unfortunately, so was the confusion. I turned away with a little growl, stalking toward the driver’s side door, unlocking it on the way and yanking it open once I got there.

  “So, I guess that means I can’t drive?” Dan said, but opened the passenger door and slipped inside.

  I didn’t answer, instead just slamming the door and jamming the key in the ignition.

  “Em…” He laid a hand on my arm. There was genuine concern in his voice. It just made me more frustrated.

  I brushed his hand off and started the car, letting it warm up while I tucked my hands under my arms and tried to sort through the tangle of thoughts and emotions that seeing him again had provoked.

  “God, you’re as good at the silent treatment as Mom.”

  If he wanted to get a rise out of me, he picked the right tactic. I looked over at him, eyes flashing in the late afternoon sun streaming through the frosty windshield. “You don’t know anything about me,” I began, but again… time and place. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you. What the hell are you doing in Santa Fe?”

&nb
sp; “Vacationing?” He shrugged. “Heard there was some good skiing out this way.”

  “Uh-huh. So why aren’t you staying at the resort?”

  “Keeping my options open. Can we go now?” He glanced in the direction of the casino warily. Maybe he didn’t want that guy to come out and find us out here. I studied him in profile for a moment. He looked a lot like Liam, or at least what I remembered Liam looking like. Liam would have been about his age, a few years older, when I left home for good.

  “Fasten your seatbelt. The tribal police don’t fuck around.” I followed my own advice before I backed the car out of the parking space and started maneuvering my way out of the parking lot.

  Driving was probably the best thing for me, really. It gave me something to focus on besides the infuriating man sitting beside me. For his part, he did buckle up and sat there quietly until we were moving down the highway toward town. I was careful to set the cruise control to the speed limit on account of the aforementioned tribal police. We hadn’t gone more than a mile before we saw one of their fancy sports cars parked on the shoulder, a radar aimed out the window. Really, you’d think the casino netted the tribe enough money without speed-trapping all the tourists on top of it.

  We drove several miles in silence. “So, do you know what happened to Christina and Victoria?” I asked eventually.

  He nodded, somber, at least for the moment. “Yeah. Tracy told me.”

  Well, that was surprising news. “Tracy?”

  “Yeah, she’s another witch from their coven.”

  I snorted. “I know who Tracy is.” I must have snapped a little, because he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “When did she tell you?”

  “Uh, well, she called me yesterday to tell me about Tori. As for Christina… I found out about her a week or so ago.”

  I laughed. “She has your phone number… wow, that’s rich.”

  “What? Why?” He seemed genuinely confused, and it just made me laugh harder.