by Sonya Clark
She washed and dried her face, horrified at the cut on her lip and the bruise on her cheek. One bicep had ugly purple stripes from Black Diamond Guy gripping her arm so tight. There was no way makeup would effectively cover the blemishes. Chet might have to take Hilda to the auction party. Eve leaned her forehead against the mirror, blowing out her breath and steaming the glass. They might as well put her on a plane back to the States.
A sharp knock sounded from the door. She poked her head out of the bathroom in time to see Pete open the door to her room. Squinting, he said, “You through crying?”
Of all the insensitive--ugh! “You have to pay women for sex, don’t you?”
“What the hell?” He entered the room, closing the door behind him.
Eve left the bathroom to stand in the middle of the room. “What do you want?” Arms crossed across her chest, she stared him down, refusing to be intimidated by his size or his attitude. Refusing to show it, anyway. He stood there with a belligerent sneer on his face, holding something in one big hand, glaring down at her like she’d kicked him.
She made the decision so quickly there was barely any thought to it. Pete opened his mouth, no doubt to spew more obnoxiousness, and Eve pounced. Using his own weight against him with a couple of choice judo moves Sanngrid had taught her, Eve dropped Pete on his back to the floor with a heavy thud that rattled the Hummel figurines on a shelf by the window.
“What the hell?” Pete repeated, yelling this time. He groaned, sitting up slowly. “Why did you do that?”
“You told me to!” She stabbed the air with a finger. “You said I should get used to defending myself, so I’m trying to do just that. I need the practice.”
“Don’t practice on me!”
“Why not? It makes sense, what with you being so big.” For some reason that didn’t sound right. “A big stupid lunk-head. If I can get you on your back, I should be able to do that to just about any man.” That didn’t sound right either, and his raised eyebrow didn’t help.
Chet opened the door without knocking. “Everything okay in here?”
Eve turned and replied brightly, “I’m practicing my self-defense on Cadkin.”
Pete snapped, “Tell Kane to find another crash test dummy to play with.”
Chet looked from one to the other and said, “Eve, don’t beat up on Pete anymore.”
“Damn right.” Pete climbed to his feet, once again towering over her. It didn’t seem so intimidating this time.
“Not unless I’m there to see it,” Chet continued. “Or better yet there’s a video camera recording every second, so that everyone at Bradbury can enjoy the sight of Pete getting his ass handed to him by a girl.”
“Get out!” Pete ushered a laughing Chet from the room. Grimacing, he leaned over to retrieve the two white bundles of fabric he’d dropped. He dropped down on the edge of the bed, loosening his tie. “You made your point. How about we call a time out for a few minutes?”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about him sitting on her bed. Or being alone in the room with him. He didn’t scare her, it wasn’t that. Shaking her head, she pushed it from her thoughts and pointed at the fabric. “What’s that?”
He held them up for her to see. “What I’m here for. These things are like a poultice, sort of. It’s healing herbs, enchanted stuff. It’ll help get rid of your bruises.” He jerked his thumb at the expanse of bed behind him. “Lie down.”
She started to protest but he cut her off. “It’ll work better if you lie down, relax. Get in a semi-trance state.”
“I don’t know how to do that.” She felt off balance, like she was looking at everything sideways.
“Just doze. Take a nap, daydream. Whatever.” She made no effort to move. He looked at her impatiently. “Come on, those bruises need to be gone in time for the party.”
Remembering why she’d come to Frankfurt in the first place, Eve relented. She climbed onto the bed, careful not to touch Pete.
He placed one bundle on her arm, using extra fabric to wrap it in position. The other he placed over the part of her mouth with the cut and her bruised cheek. The fragrant smell of herbs emitted from the bundles, quickly followed by a soothing warmth. Could magic herbs really heal these bruises in just a few hours? A week ago she would have laughed at the idea. Now she could almost believe it.
“Just relax. Let the magic do its work.” For the first time there was no gruffness in Pete’s voice. He almost sounded boyish even. His fingertips skated across the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist in a figure eight pattern. A languid heat filled her limbs, smoothing out all the tension knotting her muscles. Must have been the herbs doing their thing. Something clean and pure washed over her, like moonlight shining on a calm sea. Eve let herself drift on that sea, safe and warm.
It’s the same color as Pete’s eyes, she thought as she crossed into a deep healing sleep.
Chapter 18
Three years. Three long, careful years of diligence and restraint. Now he’d shot that to hell and called on magic not once but twice in one day. Pete shivered as the cool blue-silver energy coursed through him, the healing spell he’d worked on Eve also serving to calm his jittery nerves after what he’d done in the alley earlier. He bent over the sink, splashing water on his face. Reaching for a hand towel, his fingertips itched with the desire to simply call it to him. He pushed the desire away and picked up the towel. Drying his face, he examined his countenance in the mirror. The perpetual bags under his eyes seemed less severe and there was a hint of color in his cheeks. Magician, heal thyself.
But he hadn’t and he knew better than to try to convince himself otherwise. Eve might not understand it yet, depending on how much Jean-Pierre had taught her, but her psychic ability was a form of magic. She could either stay at the level she was at or she could work to fashion that inchoate talent into something serious. The moment he touched her energy with his own it responded with surprising strength, creating a connection for the healing spell to travel between them. Her bruises disappeared as she drifted into sleep and now he looked almost like a man who got real sleep, instead of dozing on his couch as old movies played on the television. It had taken a real effort to disengage himself from her and leave her to her rest. Not because he’d forgotten how to do that in three years–he’d forgotten nothing. That tenuous connection felt too inviting, a place of safety and succor. Had to be the healing spell causing that. Whatever it was, she didn’t realize what was going on and it was wrong to keep that connection open when she hadn’t given consent. So he slipped away and let her sleep.
Pete replaced the towel and ran his hands through his hair. He couldn’t leave the bathroom yet. One look at the faint blue silver glow to his eyes would tell Chet he’d used magic and then he would never shut up. Pete had no intention of explaining himself, especially since he had no explanation. Not that Chet would be angry, quite the opposite. Trying to calm himself and ground the last bit of energy of the spell, Pete modulated his breathing and ran through the periodic table of elements in his head. Focusing on something else did the trick and the glow faded from his eyes.
****
Eve closed her eyes, one hand at her midriff as Hilda adjusted the dress one last time. In just moments she would have to walk down the stairs, in this dress. Then go out in public, in this dress. To an exclusive party that would no doubt be full of all kinds of glamorous and magically-inclined folk. In this dress.
A certain handsome, difficult man would see her…in this dress.
Hilda said, “Are you ready?”
Eve opened her eyes and examined herself in the full length mirror. The blood-red dress hugged her through mid-thigh before belling out to a full skirt that fell to the floor. Sheer silk revealed pale skin underneath, a mostly random pattern reminiscent of falling leaves providing cover here and there and thankfully over the important bits. Long sleeves went to her wrists, matching three inch heels hid under the skirt. Nude lipstick and smoky eyes were the most obvious makeup. S
he’d pulled her long hair into an artful updo, save for a few escaping tendrils framing her face. Eve was used to wearing her hair up but this time it was for the express purpose of showing off the back of the dress, or rather, her back, as the dress was backless. Between that and the sheer fabric Eve felt nearly naked. She’d never worn something so revealing, so designed for display. It terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.
“You are not used to this?” Hilda gestured at the dress. There was no kindness in her voice, but no disdain either.
Eve shook her head. “Nope. Definitely not my usual look.” She turned to look over her shoulder, not sure what to think about the expanse of her bare back. Wearing her hair down would cover most of that. All she had to do was pull the pins from her hair and it would be loose. And then maybe wear the old comfy black cardigan she’s packed over the sheer silk.
“You have to wear the dress. You can’t let it wear you. Understand?”
“Not really.”
Hilda sighed. “Then fake it.” She shrugged, as if weary of talking to a slow child. “Pretend you’re someone else. Pretend you’re someone beautiful and glamorous. A movie star. Not the new movie stars, the old ones.”
Eve tried to think of an old movie star and came up empty. Hilda made an impatient noise and said, “It’s time. Whatever you have to do, do it. Now. If you can’t impress those two downstairs, you might as well not bother.”
“If this is supposed to be a pep talk, it sucks,” Eve snapped.
Hilda smirked, tilting her head to one side. “Well, well, well. Peter’s little ice princess has a bit of fire in her after all.”
Eve’s jaw practically cracked on the floor. A moment like this demanded a cutting retort, or at least a witty rejoinder. The best she could muster was, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Hilda broadened her smirk, looking downright smug. She answered in German, further infuriating Eve who glared daggers at the taller woman. Taller, older, cheap imitation of a Bond Girl… snooty bitch. “I am not Peter’s little ice princess or anything else for that matter!”
“Make sure you stomp your foot when you say that,” Hilda sneered, laughing.
Eve took a step toward her, one of Sanngrid’s more vicious moves in her mind. The door opened and Chet leaned into the room. “Ready, Eve?”
Eve drew in a shuddery breath, willing herself to calm down. “Yes.” She turned away from Hilda, refusing to give the other woman another look. Her knees quaked and her stomach clenched, but she gave Chet a fierce smile. “I’m ready.”
He regarded her for a moment, one eyebrow lifted. His gaze took in the dress, her attitude, and whatever stupid expression Hilda had on her face behind Eve. “Yeah, I think you are.” He swept an arm out to lead her into the hall.
Hilda followed. Wanting a moment alone, Eve grabbed Chet’s arm and held him back until Hilda was out of earshot. “What’s up,” he said quietly.
Eve shook her hands, bouncing on her heels. “I just.” Feel naked. “This dress.” Oh God. “Chet.”
He held up a hand. “You look amazing.” Taking her hands in his, he gave them a companionable squeeze. “Tonight’s going to be fine. Nothing to worry about, okay?”
There were moments when that temp job she’d given up looked appealing. Eve had to admit, at least to herself, that she really had no idea what she was doing. Before another attack of nerves could overtake her, she forced herself to think of the Key and what she’d been able to sense of it. Something that powerful, that dark, in the hands of whomever had the money to buy it, whether they had any morals or ethics–that’s why she was here. Whether she knew what she was doing or not, the why was easy.
One good, deep breath steadied her. She took in Chet’s classic tuxedo, thinking it was a shame to waste it on her and not Bettine. “You look pretty amazing yourself. And you’re very sweet.”
He shook his head. “Just honest.” He offered his elbow and she took it.
They entered the living room to find Hilda on the sofa flipping through a magazine and Pete in the far corner on the phone.
Chet said, “Is the car here?” Hilda answered in bored German. Chet nodded. “Okay then, let’s go.” He glanced at Eve. “Pete will be our shadow in case something happens and we get split up.”
Pete ended the conversation and returned the phone to its cradle. “Yeah, I’ll-” He stopped in the middle of the room, staring at Eve. “Sonofabitch.”
Pure masculine admiration painted his expression, leaving his mouth slightly parted and even better, his eyes wide and almost glowing. Eve soaked in his stare, the heat of it giving her the last push she needed. Tipping her head up, she teased him with a slow sensual smile. “Good evening, Cadkin.” With that, she turned toward the exit, ensuring Pete got a good long look at her bare back.
As Chet joined her at the door Pete said, “Nice dress, Kane.” His voice held a hint a good humor, as if conceding a hand of cards. Eve grinned to herself as they walked out into the Frankfurt night.
Chapter 19
Gerhardt Mueller lived in a large penthouse apartment with a spectacular view of the Main River and the city skyline. Security was tight. First they were examined by guards with standard wand metal detectors, then they had to stand while some sort of wizard or sorcerer or something stared at them.
“What was that all about?” Eve took in the art deco style, afraid to touch anything, not because she might read psychic impressions but out of fear of breaking anything. The place looked like a magazine layout.
“His job was to make sure no one brought in anything enchanted that might be a problem,” Chet leaned close to keep from being overheard in the press of people. “I have to go make nice with Mueller. Want to go with me or wander on your own?”
She snorted. “Because that turned out so well this morning.”
“You’ll be safe here. Nobody’s going to risk making a mess in Gerry’s apartment, he’d flay them alive. It’s when we leave that we’ll need to be on our guard.”
“Is Pete somewhere nearby?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them.
If Chet thought anything of it he kept it to himself. “Close enough.” He looked past her, blue eyes settling on someone at the far end of the crowded room. “Why don’t you go get a drink? The bar’s that way.” He jerked his chin to indicate the direction.
Eve glanced over her shoulder. Knox Delafield stood at the bar. “Sounds like a good idea.” She flashed Chet a smile before turning to leave.
Something must have had Knox distracted because she was able to sneak up on him. “I think a night like this calls for trying something new and exciting.”
Startled, Knox set his drink down with a clunk and gaped at her. “I’m trying to come up with a double entendre or an inappropriate suggestion but nothing could be as exciting as that dress.”
Eve lightly drummed her fingertips on the glass bar. “It does make me feel rather daring.”
A dirty grin creased his face. “Whatever would you dare to do in that dress?”
The bartender returned, giving her a cool but appreciate once-over. Eve said, “I’ve never had a chocolatini. That should be enough new and exciting for now.”
The bartender stepped away to make the drink. Knox leaned closer, his breath tickling her neck. “I can help you come up with something new and exciting for later.”
She grinned, on the verge of flirting back. The image of a pair of midnight blue eyes chased the impulse away. That would not do. That would not do at all. She sipped her cocktail and gave Knox a sidelong glance, trying to throw as much honey into it as possible.
“Have you seen the view from the balcony?” Knox gestured at the location in question. Eve let him lead her out into the cool night. He closed the doors behind them, cutting off the noise of the party. The skyline sparkled with multi-colored jewels of light. Eve identified St. Bartholomeus in the distance thanks to the incredibly high spire of the ancient church. The breeze picked up, send
ing a shiver through her and reminding her there wasn’t much to this dress.
“We can go back inside if you get cold.” Knox leaned against the railing, facing the doors.
Eve shook her head. “I think I’d rather be out here. I’m not really much for parties.”
“What, don’t you want to schmooze with Chet?” He softened the sarcasm with a smile.
“I don’t think Chet needs my help in there.”
“No, he needs your help out here. With me.” Knox reached out, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “I just wish you could trust me. All of you.”
His melancholy tone surprised her. “I want to. Give me a reason to trust you and I will.”
“There’s more going on than you know.”
“Talk to me, Knox.” She stepped closer, placing her hand on his. “Your grandmother’s will stated the only people she trusted to deliver the Key to Bradbury was us. You and me. If she trusted us, maybe we should try trusting each other.”
Knox turned to gaze at the city lights. “It’s my father.”
More than the breeze brought a chill to Eve. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been selling pieces of the family collection for a while now. I thought it was gambling debts at first, and that is part of it, but it’s hatred too. They never trusted him, never welcomed him into that part of their lives. My grandparents knew he wasn’t suited for it. And he had no talent for magic. But I did, and oh, how he hated me for that.” He paused, struggling to keep his voice even. Eve wrapped her hand around his bicep, trying to convey comfort. She knew it was a useless gesture but she wanted to make it just the same.
