Wicked Magic (7 Wicked Tales Featuring Witches, Demons, Vampires, Fae, and More)

by Deanna Chase

  Lady Bancroft’s lips twitch. ‘Montserrat was right. You do have some fire about you.’ I scowl. ‘I suppose you imagined you could attack me and win.’

  ‘I didn’t need to beat you. I just needed you to confirm that you were the traitor.’

  ‘How would that help if I tore your head off before you could pass the information to someone else?’ Her tone is mild but the threat is still there. Especially with the fallen body of her bodyguard lying just a few feet away.

  I look at her steadily. She cocks her head then smiles. Her hand swipes at me in one flashing movement, ripping my jumpsuit and revealing the tiny microphone and wire underneath. Her body stills when she sees it.

  ‘So,’ she hisses in a dangerous undertone, ‘Montserrat thinks I’m the one.’

  I find my voice. ‘Actually no, he doesn’t. This is broadcasting somewhere else.’ In fact just down the hall to Beth: the transmitter is too weak to signal anywhere further. That’s another reason why Beth had to come with me. She couldn’t listen in but everything is being sent to a miniature black box recorder hidden in her clothes. In the event of my death or dismemberment, all she has to do is take it back to Montserrat who’ll de-encrypt it to discover the truth.

  ‘All very well,’ she says with a sniff, ‘but it suggests a rather careless disregard for your own well-being.’

  ‘Whoever’s behind this has already destroyed my life. Finding them and putting them down is my raison d’être.’

  She laughs, a high musical sound. ‘Really?’

  I’m offended. ‘Really.’

  ‘We have our own investigators, you know. We did look into you.’ She taps the corner of her mouth thoughtfully. ‘Let me think, what was it? The bottom rung of a two-bit private detective firm? A one-bedroomed flat in a seedier part of London? A few friends, no love life, no family?’

  ‘I’ve got family,’ I tell her stiffly.

  ‘Your mother is on the other side of the world and relations with your grandfather are stilted.’

  ‘Perhaps my definition of a good life and yours are different.’

  She laughs again. ‘I doubt that. Besides, you have five hundred members of a brand new Family. Why would you want to throw all that away?’

  ‘I don’t want to be a damned vampire,’ I say through gritted teeth.

  She’s surprised. ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘I have no desire to be beholden to blood or to live an unnaturally long life. Human suits me just fine.’

  Her hand shoots out again, grabbing my throat. She pushes me into the air while my legs kick involuntarily and my fingers scrabble at her hand.

  ‘Can a human do this?’ she enquires.

  My eyes bulge and she sighs and lets me go. I fall into a puddle at her feet.

  ‘Humans can’t be hit by a stupid daemon-created passivity spell,’ I croak.

  She bends down. ‘No, but you know they’ll be destroyed by its results in the end.’

  I stand up unsteadily. ‘So why is someone doing it?’

  She shrugs. ‘Power.’

  I think back to my earliest musings about O’Shea’s spell. Tam always believed in sex and money as motives, but the allure of power is equally strong. I acknowledge her words with a nod. ‘Why not you?’ My voice is soft and non-threatening.

  ‘You mean, why am I not initiating this Family takeover? Why am I not the traitor? Because, darling, I’ve got it good. I might be a woman in a man’s world but I know how to play those boys.’

  I find it hard to think of Michael Montserrat as a boy, but wisely I stay mute.

  ‘At least you have one thing correct,’ she says. ‘Whoever is behind all this has to be a woman.’

  ‘Because the spell only affects males?’

  ‘Indeed. There would be far too much danger of leakage or contamination for it to be wielded by a man. Although the silly girl who is pulling the strings has no idea that you don’t need magic to make men dance to your tune.’

  Something about her tone makes me shiver. ‘One of the witnesses said it was a woman.’

  ‘Charity Weathers.’

  I nod then glance at her, askance. ‘You said you thought a recruit could be the perpetrator.’

  ‘No. What I asked is why you think a recruit can’t be.’

  ‘It doesn’t make sense. A recruit or a human wouldn’t have access to the Families to involve so many vampires in the first place. As far as I understand, this has been going on for a couple of months.’

  ‘The first death was February 15th.’

  ‘Well then,’ I say. ‘It couldn’t be a recruit. It has to be a Family member.’

  She’s amused. ‘We don’t live cloistered away like monks and nuns. Plenty of vampires have regular access to humans. Anyone could have given them the solidified spell.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that a bunch of vampires, who’ve lived longer than anyone else, are stupid enough to fall for a trap and take a dodgy spell from a dodgy human?’

  ‘Humans are craftier than you give them credit for,’ she snorts.

  ‘Are vampires stupider than you give them credit for?’

  ‘There’s a vast difference between stupidity and naivety.’ She sighs. ‘Perhaps that’s been our downfall. We’ve been lulled into a false sense of security after decades of peace and power.’

  I watch her carefully. I can’t sense any dissembling. She might be right. I may have spent weeks making silly assumptions – but I still can’t understand why a human would want to take down the five Families in order to set up a new Family in their place. It would disrupt years of the delicate power balance. Look at what happened in France during the Revolution when there was only one Family around. No one would want to see a return to those times, and humans and vampires co-exist quite happily these days. There’s no need to change that. If you want to become a vampire, then just apply.

  ‘What about disgruntled applicants who’ve not been recruited?’ I ask suddenly.

  Lady Bancroft looks at me like I’m a particularly disgusting form of fungus. ’We’ve done that. We investigated them all.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Look, Montserrat might admire you but if you think you’ve got all the answers and that we’ve not already exhausted these possibilities, then you’re even more stupid than I realised.’

  I bristle. ‘Hey, I’ve made some mistakes…’

  ‘Some? You’ve wasted time and energy coming after me. This spell has the potential to destroy us all and we have no idea when or where it’s going to happen. Meanwhile, you’ve been running around like Nancy Drew, uncovering nothing of note.’

  ‘Nancy Drew is a good detective,’ I mumble, although I’m gallingly aware that she’s right. Since I entered the Montserrat Family, I’ve achieved a big fat zero. Nul points to Bo Blackman. Between wasting my time over Beth as a potential minion and Bancroft as the potential evil lady, I’ve discovered squat. There are only five more days until the end of the lunar month when I’ll either become Sanguine or be a bloodguzzler. Unless I – or someone with more wits – find out who wants to make a new super Family, my days are numbered. Not to mention everyone else’s.

  The lack of sympathy on Lady Bancroft’s face isn’t helping. ‘Why did you kill the blond vampire?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The one who killed Charity Weathers. It wasn’t his fault.’

  She nudges her dead bodyguard with her toe. ‘It wasn’t his fault you barged in here and disturbed me. I don’t see you crying over his corpse.’

  I stay on topic. ‘You didn’t let anyone else speak to him.’

  ‘He had nothing to say. He’d been stripped of who he was and become a suggestible, pliable moron.’

  ‘He couldn’t tell you where he got the spell from?’

  ‘He had no idea. Even as a vampire he dabbled in drugs. We assume his heroin was switched for the spell.’

  I try to imagine what a Class A drug does to a vampire and fail. Then I remember the syringe I found back at
the house on Wiltshore Avenue. I should have followed that up earlier. Charity had clearly been involved in drugs too to force her involvement. If Tam had been around to offer some guidance, I would probably have done more to follow that particular line of enquiry. Instead all I’ve done is let his memory down. My shoulders sink in defeat.

  ‘Dire Straits,’ I say.

  ‘Indeed,’ agrees Lady Bancroft.

  ‘No, Dire Straits. My firm. Why did you hire D’Argneau to look for O’Shea? You’ve got your own investigators. You don’t need a bunch of humans. You hired D’Argneau who hired us.’

  ‘The lawyer? We tried our own methods and failed. He came highly recommended.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Lots of people. What does it matter? We inadvertently discovered the daemon was the spell’s originator thanks to a Valentine’s Day card he sent to one of our first victims. He’d written it in code but a child could have cracked it.’ She sniffs. ‘So we went after him with D’Argneau’s help to serve a summons for something else to cover our tracks.’

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. I wonder if their sudden action to find O’Shea precipitated his attempted murder – and my framing for it.

  ‘You need to leave now,’ Lady Bancroft says without further preamble. She walks back to the sensory tank.

  ‘You’re going back in?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I? If our world is going to end any day now, then I want to enjoy myself before it does.’

  I struggle to see how shutting yourself into a tiny space equals enjoyment.

  ‘Look,’ she says more kindly, ‘you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Montserrat placed too much faith in you and it wasn’t fair. You’re too inexperienced and too damn human. It’s not your fault. If we manage to get past this, come and see me when you’ve finished turning. You might be Montserrat now but I can always use a plucky vampire whose heart is in the right place.’ Her condescension, even if it is well meant, is overpowering.

  ‘I’m not going to be a vampire,’ I snap. ‘I only have five more days then I’ll be Sanguine.’

  She laughs, lifts up the roof of the tank and climbs back in. ‘Sure.’

  I throw her a dirty look but she’s already disappeared from view. I run my hands through my hair. She’s right. I arrogantly assumed that I’d be able to solve what the might of the five Families couldn’t. Super Bo to the rescue! To quote D’Argneau, I’m an idiot.

  ***

  I find Beth in a room at the other end of the corridor. Her fingers are splayed while a youngish looking man – Lars, I imagine – delicately re-paints them pillar-box red. The pair of them are watching a computer screen and giggling. I feel slightly miffed that she’s having such a good time while I’ve been facing the dragon, until I spot the tension in her neck and the relief in her eyes when she sees me.

  ‘Bo! Is everything okay?’

  ‘Fine,’ I mutter. ‘Can we go now?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ interrupts Lars, looking alarmed. ‘Your nails haven’t dried. Besides, I’ve not shown you the video of the vampires fighting.’

  Beth looks apologetic. I’m keen to get out of here before the bodyguard’s body is discovered and all hell breaks loose, but I sit down stiffly by her side.

  ‘Don’t you have that quick drying stuff?’ I ask.

  Lars sniffs dismissively and turns back to Beth. He taps something into the computer and a video comes on. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘This is some dude from Gully getting it on with another from Stuart. You can tell which Families they’re from because of the colours they’re wearing,’ he adds helpfully.

  ‘Thanks,’ Beth murmurs. Clearly, Lars has not cottoned onto her recruit status yet.

  I turn to the screen and watch what appears to be CCTV footage from some dive of a nightclub. A tall vampire bumps into another one, inadvertently spilling his drink. It takes less than three seconds before they descend into a spectacular fang-flashing, artery-spilling brawl.

  ‘The day after this, the Gully and Stuart heads met in broad daylight. In Hyde Park! They must have taken it seriously because they frown at each other and have all these bodyguards surrounding them.’ Lars leans in and whispers confidentially, ‘But, they met in public so everyone would understand that they weren’t allowing their Family members to go around and kill each other.’

  He taps the keyboard again, while I shift in my chair. ‘We need to go, Beth.’

  She nods and rises. ‘I’m sorry, Lars. We have another, um, appointment to keep.’

  He looks disappointed. ‘You can see them drinking blood! At least it looks like blood. There’s a waiter bringing more over to them. The dude with the camera gets in his way and then they almost fight as well.’

  ‘Bye Lars,’ I say firmly, turning to the door.

  ‘Another time,’ Beth chirps out, far more enthusiastically.

  I’ve just put one foot outside into the corridor when I hear a tinny voice shouting from the computer. I freeze then, ever so slowly, turn back. I know that voice.

  ‘Lars, can you just rewind that for a moment?’

  ‘I thought you had to go,’ he says sullenly.

  I shove him out of the way and start the video again. He mutters something but I ignore him and focus on the screen. Sure enough, Lord Gully and Lord Stuart are seated at a linen-covered table in the midst of a clearing. They are some distance away but it’s still possible to make out the red liquid in their glasses. I swallow hard and focus on the tuxedoed man carrying the tray. His back is turned to the camera. Then the cameraman helpfully moves forward into the waiter’s path. They almost collide and, for a moment, all I can see is the black material of the tuxedo jacket as the camera gets caught up in it. Finally it points in the waiter’s face while he snarls obscenities. I reach forward and pause the video, then stare, sickened.

  ‘What is it, Bo?’

  ‘I was going to watch this video weeks ago,’ I murmur absently. ‘Except I got distracted.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Beth touches my sleeve, but I don’t respond. I’m too focused on the face filling the computer screen.

  ‘I know him.’

  ‘The waiter?’

  I nod. I want to punch and kick and scream. Because the waiter glaring out at us with twisted malevolence isn’t a waiter at all. It’s Boris.

  Chapter Twenty-five: Playing Possum

  I rail against myself throughout the journey back to the Montserrat headquarters. Beth is increasingly alarmed, but I can’t reassure her. I’m simply too pissed off.

  As soon as we cross the threshold of the mansion, I spot Montserrat in the foyer. He’s standing smack bang in the centre, arms folded, his expression brooding and tense. When he sees me, he relaxes slightly and moves forward with swift grace. I meet him halfway and look up at his chiselled face. Before he can open his mouth, I demand access to a phone.

  A muscle throbs in his cheek. ‘Why, Bo?’

  ‘I need to speak to Arzo.’

  ‘Can’t you at least tell me what happened with Bancroft first?’

  ‘Nothing worth mentioning,’ I mutter. Bancroft was a waste of time. The trip to the spa wasn’t. Now I know who I really need to speak to.

  ‘Bo, you are under my jurisdiction yet you insist on keeping me in the dark. Perhaps you’re confused as to how the chain of vampire command works.’

  I force myself to take a deep, calming breath. ‘I’ve screwed up a lot since arriving here. I’m not about to make any more assumptions until I can confirm something with Arzo. Then I’ll speak to you.’

  His dark eyes rove over my face. For a moment I think he’s going to refuse and I’ll have to run back into the terrifying, sunlit street to find myself a sodding phone box – if any exist in this part of the world – but he jerks his head and leads me in the direction of his office. Even though I’m in a hurry to talk to Arzo and I move as quickly as I can, I find it hard to keep up with his long-legged stride.

  ‘I’m glad you’re okay,’ he says conversationall
y.

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘We have an unspoken rule in the Families that no one is allowed to touch each other’s Family members without gaining permission first. But Lady Bancroft can be,’ he pauses, ‘volatile.’

  I wonder what he’d think if he knew she thought she had him and all the other Family heads wrapped around her little finger.

  ‘As you can see,’ I say, ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘And as I said, I’m glad.’

  ‘However,’ I continue, ‘didn’t you tell me that she’d think of me as little more than a human? If I’m still a recruit and haven’t drunk blood yet, does that make me a Montserrat Family member?’

  He smiles. ‘A distant cousin, perhaps. I made it clear to her that you weren’t to be harmed.’

  My eyes narrow. ‘She knew I was coming?’

  ‘No. We had already spoken of you, though.’

  I glare at him suspiciously. I’d surmised as much from Lady Bancroft but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. He gives me a grin which I don’t bother returning.

  Once we reach his office, he follows me in and closes the door. He points towards his desk where a shiny, old-fashioned, phone sits.

  ‘Don’t you have a mobile?’

  ‘I prefer this.’

  I look at him. ‘Just how old are you?’

  His eyes dance. ‘It’s rude to ask the age of your elders, Bo.’

  I grunt. ‘Are you going to leave?’

  ‘It’s my office.’ He sits down in a leather-backed chair and leans back, propping up his feet on top of the desk.

  I roll my eyes at him then pick up the phone. ‘Do you have his number?’

  He reels it off from memory. My surprise must have shown on my face, because he comments, ‘I can chew gum and walk at the same time too.’

  ‘Whatever.’ I dial the number and wait.

  Arzo answers almost immediately. ‘My Lord.’ Caller display, I figure.

  ‘Er, no. It’s Bo.’

  ‘Bo! Are you alright? What happened with Lady Bancroft?’

  ‘Not much. There’s a hell of a lot of people suddenly concerned with my welfare though.’ Montserrat grins at this but doesn’t speak.