Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Three

  Mr Breckt

  It has been over a hundred years since I’ve felt like this, since I have felt any type of emotion apart from disdain—especially for a human. Yet here I am, thinking of her again. The way her hair shone. The way her skin smelled when I kissed the top of her soft hand. I feel a frown cross my brow. This is most inconvenient for me.

  “Sir?” It’s Ava’s voice again, hesitant. “Mr Breckt, Sir? Are you ready to go?”

  I turn in my chair to look at her. She is small, petite even, with dark features, and a speckling of freckles across her nose. So sweet-looking, but as deadly as a viper. I can see it in her eyes that she feels something is different with me. She does not know what, though, and that’s a good thing. People would begin to question me if they knew how I was feeling…maybe even doubt me. That is the last thing that I need.

  I need to stop thinking about her. I have too much to be getting on with as it is; so much is riding on this trip. If I fail the Queen, there will be consequences. Serious consequences. This woman, this human—Mia—she’s the last thing that I need to distract me from my task.

  Yet, here she is again in my thoughts. Her pale, smooth skin and soft, pink cheeks that had been begging me to touch them. I don’t understand how she could refuse me; it makes no sense. I would be angry if I weren’t so confused by it all. I shake my head to try to pry the cobwebs of her memory away, and stand to leave.

  I catch my reflection in the windowpane, straightening my jacket out. My eyes stare back at me, a piercing green-blue—turquoise, almost. They seem to be humming with excitement. My hair is dark, and my body, which is dressed in the finest of suits as usual, is toned and muscular, with broad shoulders and a sculptured back. People would think me arrogant to be so admiring of myself, but then if they were me…they would be arrogant too. I am special. My powers give me the ability to get whatever I want and whomever I want.

  Except her.

  A growl emanates in the back of my throat. How had she done that? Resisted me? Anger bubbles in my stomach, and burns through my veins.

  Her eyes twinkled, I remember with a sigh—and just like that, the anger dissipates.

  Such extraordinary blue eyes. They clash beautifully with her deep black hair, so long and soft. A smile plays at the corner of my mouth. Of course, she was falling under my spell at the time; that’s why her eyes had twinkled. That’s my power, my strength, but there’s something else about her. I definitely sensed something different about her. I can’t put my finger on it.

  Ava is by the door and she clears her throat once again, trying to get my attention. I turn to look at her, stepping away from the large window with another sigh. I have to see her again. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to get on with things and get down to business. She is like a siren calling out to me. I want to wrap my arms around that lithe body of hers, and devour her.

  Yes, if I could just see her again, I could have my way with her and then push her from my mind. It’s the only way, the way it has been for as far back as I can remember.

  I see. I take. I dismiss.

  This fantasising nonsense is just that: nonsense. What the hell is wrong with me? Fantasising about a woman, of all things.

  I stride to the doorway and out past Ava, down the long glass hallway, passing various closed doors. As I reach the back foyer I go to the bookshelf along the far wall, pressing my hand against the secret panel on the underside of one of the shelves; the bookcase slides out to one side to reveal a doorway, with concrete steps leading down into darkness. The sound of my feet on the concrete is the only sound to be heard, but I know that Ava is right behind me.

  The sound echoes around us the lower we go, until we reach the bottom. It’s dim—the lights are old-fashioned, medieval-style torches, which hang along the walls, lighting the way for me to one of the back chambers. It is much too cliché for my liking; what’s wrong with electricity? It’s the twenty-first century!

  I stand outside a chamber and look down the corridor to the rows of heavy wooden doors that face each other; every one of them is locked and dead-bolted. It seems that my Pawns have been busy whilst I have been preoccupied. I smile. At least that’s something?

  I undo the buttons down the front of my jacket, remove it, and place it over Ava’s waiting arm. I tap once on the door, and it’s opened without a word.

  Inside the room it is cold and dark, sparse of furniture or comforts. Only Donovan—my guard—and those damn lanterns again. They flicker across the walls, casting strange shadows. Oh, how it all irritates me. This place hasn’t been used in a long time, like most things in the house.

  The door shuts behind me and I see a man strapped to a wooden chair, his head hanging low on his chest, his hair sodden with blood around the crown. I glance at Donovan, who grips the man’s hair and lifts his head up to face me. His mouth is set in a hard-determined line, but his eyes widen in fear when he sees me, betraying his true feelings. I fold my arms across my chest and run a finger along my bottom lip in thought. Pacing back and forth in front of this pitiful man like a predator waiting to pounce, my expression is impassive, my eyes cloudy in thought.

  The man looks up into my face. “I don’t know what else to tell you, I don’t know anything about the previous owner,” he stammers.

  Donovan hits him hard across the head with his enormous fist. “Sir!” he bellows into the man’s face.

  The man whimpers, and looks away from Donovan’s angry face.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Donovan raises his fist in the air, ready to strike again, and the man nods frantically. “I said: did you hear what I said?” Donovan’s face contorts in anger as he beats the man around his head again.

  Blood, sweat, and tears stream down his face. “Sir…yes, yes, sorry Sir. I don’t know anything more. I…I swear to you! I’ve never heard of a Mr San. I’ve only lived here for a couple of years.” He looks on pleadingly to us, confusion evident on his face. Further swelling rises to the side of his head, giving it a misshapen appearance. His eyes are swollen, and red as the vessels burst in them. His lips and cheek have split open, blood pouring from each fresh wound.

  I stop my pacing and stand in front of him, crouching down so that my eyes are level with his. My stare is unwavering and intense, and I try to focus my thoughts.

  Yes, I will go and see her tomorrow. I hesitate. No…that’s too soon. Maybe later in the week—see if I can work her out, find her weakness.

  Yes, that’s better, later in the week. Then I can get back to business, back to the real reason I’m here. This woman is a distraction—much too big a distraction to me.

  I shake my head in annoyance; I am doing it again. I look deeper into the man’s eyes. He has courage and inner strength, but he’s not stupid. If he knew something, then I would know it by now. This man wants to live. I look deeper still, my eyes scorching into his until he whimpers and then wets himself. I see many things in this poor man’s eyes, but none of them hold any interest for me. He knows nothing of the previous owner of the Island. It had been a long shot anyway. The smell of urine reaches my nose, and I stand back up with a scowl. Maybe he didn’t have any inner strength after all.

  Tutting, I take my jacket back from Ava and put it on, fastening the buttons down the front and move to the door to leave.

  “Sir?” Ava, again.

  I turn to look at her, seeing the expectancy on her face.

  “Yes, Ava?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Sir, what would you like us to do with him?” Her voice is quiet and childlike. However, this woman is no child.

  I walk through the door and glance back at the pitiful man in the chair; he looks at me, fear bubbling just below the surface. Blood has made its way down his jaw now and across his plump, acne-scarred chin. His belly protrudes from his shirt, which is too tight for him. I shake my head in disgust; how can anyone let themselves get like this? I continue to walk away down the corridor.

  “What
ever is your will, my love,” I say softly without turning. I am doing the man a justice, putting him out of his misery.

  “Yes, Sir.” I hear the smile in her voice without looking.

  Moments later I hear the door slam shut, and the man’s faint screams echo down the hall after me.

  Four

  Mia

  It’s getting late by the time that Oliver calls me. Mr Breckt's designers have kept him there going over all the plans until long after everyone else has left the site.

  “They just went on and on, Mia. ‘Can you change this? Can you do that?’ Honestly, I don’t know why they even need me, since they have such clear ideas on what they want,” he sighs.

  “Yes, but they don’t have the skill to put it in place like you do, Ollie. You know you’re a genius when it comes to these things.” I massage his ego.

  He’s silent for a moment. “I guess so. Nice flattery, by the way.” I hear him smile. “I’m so glad that Bill’s given me the opportunity to finally showcase what I’m all about on this project, but I still thought that we were a team. I can’t believe he didn’t bother coming back to help me. I mean, there are some huge changes…” he pauses and then carries on, “what with the little blue garden part.”

  I can feel him trying to come to terms with this new development. Neither of us knows how to deal with it—with him, Mr Breckt. He’s arrogant and obnoxious, yet deeply captivating, demanding my attention even when I refuse to give it.

  “I know, baby. It’ll be all right though.” I say with doubt in my voice.

  “He’s named it…had a plaque made and everything.”

  I groan. I can sense where this is going. “Named what?”

  “The garden—your garden.”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be called Mia’s Blue.” He snorts out a laugh, and then goes silent whilst he waits for my response.

  What can I say? I look across at Rachael on the opposite sofa; she raises a questioning eyebrow at me.

  I decide to make no comment on it and move the conversation on. “What does Bill have to say about it all?” I ask instead.

  “I couldn’t get hold of him,” he says. “I’m pretty sure he would think it was funny though. You know what he’s like.”

  Bill is a great guy, and a great boss to Oliver. He’s been single for as long as I’ve known him; his heavy weight and pockmarked skin from bad acne in his teen years do nothing to gain his affections with women. It’s such a shame because he’s a great guy.

  “Anyway, I’m just letting you know that I’ll be home soon, but I’ve got to start early in the morning. We’ve had to order extra flowers in, to go with the new colour scheme.” He says bitterly. “They’re being flown in from a specialist supplier, but they’re going to arrive early, and someone has to be here to collect them. Since I can’t get hold of Bill, I guess it’s my job now.”

  I can tell Oliver doesn’t like being over there anymore; all of his earlier excitement has been lost. Although he will never admit it to me, I know that he feels threatened by his new employer, and I know that I’m partly to blame for that.

  Mr Breckt is strikingly handsome, wealthy beyond words, and has the confidence and swagger to pull it all off. But there is something else there—something I can tell both Oliver and I feel. He feels dangerous, a sense of something inexplicable coming from him.

  My stomach rolls at the thought of him, although in excitement or panic I’m not sure. He has frequently crossed my thoughts all day. His eyes, his smell, the way he kissed my hand. I shake my head in shame. No matter how much I try to put him from my mind, he is still there, niggling away like an addiction.

  “Mia? You still there?”

  I’ve been quiet for too long, lost on my own reverie of Mr Breckt again. It’s ridiculous, really; I’ve only met him once, and I’m acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. My stomach lurches again. Oh God, is that what this is? Love? Is this what books mean when they talk about love at first sight? No, this doesn’t feel the same as what I feel for Oliver.

  Now that is love. Without question.

  I look across at Rachael again, and she feigns a yawn and waves her hands at me to hurry up. I smile at her and mouth ‘shut up’.

  “Yes, baby. I’m still here, just thinking.”

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Hurry home though, okay? I miss you.”

  “Will do.”

  I blow him a kiss down the phone, and we say our goodbyes. Rachael pours us both another drink.

  “So? How’s lover boy?” she asks.

  I roll my eyes at her. “He’s fine. Tired, I guess.” I look down at my glass, deep in thought.

  “Well then, tell me about this Mr Breckt character. He sounds delicious, Mia.” She takes another sip of her wine, not realising that something is bothering me. “I mean, he sounds like I would want to eat him up. It’s probably best I don’t meet him,” she laughs.

  I frown at her. I know that she doesn’t mean to come across insensitive but… well, she does come across that way.

  I nod in agreement, shrugging it off. “Well, Rach, if I couldn’t stop staring at him…you would have most definitely dropped your knickers before he’d even said hello.”

  Rachael feigns offense and we both burst out laughing. I’m feeling a little tipsy already.

  “Seriously though, what’s he like? I mean, you’ve said he’s good looking but . . . well, I don’t know. What’s he even doing here?” Rachael looks quizzical.

  Our town isn’t known for its high-end attractions, so to speak. We are a small town best known for the fishing and sightseeing up in the mountains. We don’t attract a lot of attention.

  I shrug. “I’ve no idea what he’s doing here, honey. He doesn’t seem the sort to blend in. I mean, he’s gorgeous, Rachael. Drop-dead gorgeous. If I’m honest though, he was cocky, really cocky, and not in a good way. And he is far too self-assured for my liking. There is something about him though. I don’t know what it is, but,” I’m groping around for the right word, and coming across every one but the one I am searching for.

  “Wow, Mia. Self-assured, cocky, attractive? Sounds like our old head teacher!”

  We laugh again at the joke. Rachael had the biggest crush on our high school head teacher, and had purposefully gotten herself into trouble just so she would end up in his office for his stern telling-offs. He had been a younger man from out of town—well, younger than our previous head teacher, who had been ancient to our small minds.

  “Honestly though, I’ve no idea what he’s doing here,” I shrug again. If I carry on like this, I’m going to end up with spasms in my shoulders.

  She drinks the last of her wine. “Well, as long as he’s paying the wages, I guess it doesn’t matter what he’s doing here then, eh? Although I’m still hoping he’ll be coming over to the mainland at some point. I reckon I could be in with a chance of a date, or more. Especially since Kate from the math department has gone travelling.” She grins.

  “Really? So she finally did it, then?” I ask.

  “Seems so. She didn’t turn up for work this morning, and nobody has heard from her for a couple of days. I’d be worried, but to be fair, she’s said for weeks now that she was just going to up and go one day. Well, looks like she finally plucked up the courage to do it.”

  *

  It’s over half an hour later when Oliver turns the handle to the apartment. I jump up when I see him, padding over with a warm smile on my face, and throw my arms around his neck.

  “Oliver, baby,” I whisper into his ear. My long hair brushes his fingertips, and he holds me close.

  “Hey.” He holds me at arm’s length, examining my face as if seeing me for the first time, a little V forming between his eyes when he speaks.

  “It’s been such a long day,” he kisses the top of my head tenderly, “and it all starts over again tomorrow.” A weak smile crosses his face as he tries to pass off his words as a joke. “I’m sorry about tonight. I kn
ow you were looking forward to it, Mia. It’s like I said, I’ve got to go over there really early tomorrow morning.” He seems more exhausted by the thought of going back into work tomorrow than the actual work he has to do.

  I tilt my mouth up to meet his, and our lips touch briefly. “Don’t worry, baby, I understand.”

  The truth is I feel guilty. He’s had to work late because of me, and now he has to go in early because of me. I hadn’t asked for the flower garden, or the courtyard, but regardless, it’s being put there because of me. I release him and he trudges over to the sofa, slumping into it as he rubs his hands down his face with a sigh.

  I feel his eyes watch me move to the kitchen as I get him a cold beer from the fridge. Rachael has thoughtfully made herself scarce.

  “Did Mr Breckt say anything else to you today?” I ask as I hand him the beer. Sitting down next to him, I reach for my wine glass. I don’t know what I expect Oliver to say. My brain wants him to say no, he didn’t say anything to him—in fact, he didn’t even see him all day. However, something else—something buried deep down—is waiting anxiously for any news on ‘him’.

  Oliver looks into my face as he searches for his words. “No, I didn’t see him after you left.” He looks away. “I’m tired, Mia. Like I said, it’s been a long day. And I don’t want to talk about what happened today, before you start.” I raise my eyebrows. Clearly he knows where my line of questioning might have been leading, and I blush.

  “I don’t like him—Mr Breckt or his…his guards?” he continues with a huff. “Who has security like that anyway? I mean who does he think he is? A pop star?” he snorts. “Well, whoever he is—or they are—for that matter, I don’t care. I don’t want you going back over there, Mia.” He looks at me again, his expression serious. “I’m going to get this job done as quickly as I can, and then we can get him out of our lives.”

  He takes a deep gulp of his beer. I watch him, my eyes wide. “But Ollie, I was going to paint a mural of the garden, before it was torn up. Remember, for the college reception?” I try not to whine; nevertheless, it comes out like that.