Double Booked

by CJ Anaya

  “Yeah, but we’re not married! The receptionist double booked the room on accident, or so I thought.”

  He gasped in horror. “Do you mean to tell me that Miguel not only failed to inform you of why you are here, but has not yet married you?”

  “Why on earth would he marry me?”

  The dead governor of Louisiana harshly rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyelids, letting out an angry string of Spanish. I was grateful I couldn’t understand it.

  “It is part of the process. You two cannot uncover the talisman together unless you are married and your joint powers have combined.”

  I was totally wrong. Ignorance would have been infinitely better than hearing that bit of information.

  Bernardo de Galvez continued, “Miguel is a man of honor. I cannot believe he would spoil your virtue and refuse to marry you.”

  “Whoa, there. Miguel and I have not been intimate with each other on any level. So just get your mind out of the gutter, old man. As far as marriage goes, we’ve known each other less than two days.”

  “Two days!” he tsked. “So much time wasted. You should have been married by now and discussing your next step.”

  “Okay, clearly logic isn’t going to play into this conversation so how about you tell me where this letter is, and I’ll pass the word along to Miguel.”

  He folded his arms as his lips formed a thin, hard line, studying me for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Not until you two are married.”

  My mouth gaped open. “Seriously?”

  “As soon as you marry my son and your powers are linked to one another, I will gladly give you the location of the letter.”

  “First of all, I don’t have any powers.”

  “That you know of, anyway.”

  I waved away his comment. “Second of all, you need me. Don’t you get that? I’m not the one interested in uncovering a dangerous talisman. So threatening to withhold information I’d rather not have is not only counterproductive, but just plain stupid. You don’t have a leg to float on, here.”

  “Are you implying that the safety of this world and the inhabitants that reside upon it are unimportant to you? Do you have any idea what that coven will do to the world if they get their hands on that talisman?”

  “Is there any way to prevent you from telling me?”

  He threw his hands upward in a dramatic gesture. “They could blackmail and ransom entire nations with just the simple threat of a hurricane or tsunami. Thousands will perish while this coven joins with men more tyrannical than King George III.”

  My gut twisted just a little at that. This was one heck of a time for me to decide to turn over a new leaf and give a crap about anything.

  “And another thing, young lady, you need the protection of the coven now. Your identity has recently been discovered. Do you think for one moment you’ll be able to lead a safe and normal life if you turn your back on this predicament and make a run for it?”

  “One can always hope.”

  “You wouldn’t last a day without Miguel’s protection.”

  “So Miguel is supposed to be my husband, bodyguard and partner in crime?”

  “Criminal activities will not play into this.”

  “If witches are involved, there’s no way to avoid criminal activity. I wasn’t born yesterday, old man.”

  “Then you’ll agree to marry my son?”

  I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I don’t even know if your claims of a coven desiring to rule the world with a magical talisman are valid.” Though I suspected they were. “Furthermore, I don’t marry guys I’ve known for less than a week. As far as fending off a coven of witches hell bent on using me for their own diabolical purposes—and who’s to say you and Miguel don’t fall under that category—I suppose I’ll simply have to take my chances.”

  “Zurina, you must listen to reason.”

  “My name is Analise,” I hissed.

  I stepped backward, throwing my spirit back into my body as I tuned out the spluttered protests of General Bernardo de Galvez.

  * * *

  Upon waking, I felt nauseatingly disoriented and needed a moment to collect myself. It took me a minute to realize I was lying upon the king sized bed in the suite I shared with Miguel, instead of sitting in dirt surrounded by hundreds of tombstones.

  Where did the cemetery go?

  My thoughts returned to the encounter with the Spanish governor of Louisiana, and I shot to a sitting position.

  Holy crap! I was in some serious hot water here.

  Witches. I couldn’t believe I was wanted by two warring witch covens. There were several different covens in Spain at the moment. A few of them were harmless, but there was one in particular I was anxious to avoid, and I had an awful feeling that I was now on their radar. I was afraid of who the Akelarre coven affiliated themselves with.

  And a coded map? Seriously? I couldn’t think of anything more clichéd than a ghost, haunting a bed and breakfast inn, waiting for the only spirit medium on the planet capable of unearthing information that held the fate of the world within its cryptic clues. Throw a pirate into the mix, and I’d easily have plenty of material for that bestselling novel I never intended to write.

  Drama.

  Witches were nothing but drama, and the only person I could readily blame for getting me into all of this was Miguel Galvez. That smooth talking, two-hundred-and-some-odd-year-old Casanova might be immortal, but he’d never survive my epic tantrum once he decided to show up and grace me with his presence.

  Miguel!

  I looked around the elegantly furnished suite. I was the only one present at the moment, but who knew when he planned on coming back.

  I’d recognized the magic he possessed right from the beginning. I kept thinking that it had nothing to do with me so there was no reason to clue him in on my suspicions. Not only was he aware of the power he possessed, but he’d probably been messing with me the whole time while I frantically fought to fend off his magic.

  And just what exactly had he been trying to accomplish with that little stunt? Spelling me, perhaps? Attempting to weave some kind of love spell around my heart so I would readily marry him? Well, I had news for that smug little warlock.

  He’d failed miserably! I was completely uninterested!

  I still had every reason to be worried, though. If Miguel could extend his life for a couple of centuries then his power exceeded that of any warlock I had ever encountered, and it had been my experience that men with that level of power, especially warlocks, were dangerous.

  Time to leave.

  I leapt out of bed and looked around the room. I saw no sign of my suitcase, but thought Miguel might have placed it in the antique, cedar wardrobe, standing against the wall opposite the humongous bed.

  I took a look at the quilted mattress and felt a shiver creep along my back. I’d been crazy to think that sharing a room with Miguel, as if we were on some kind of week-long platonic sleepover, hadn’t been orchestrated in some way. My own life experiences had proved time and time again that coincidences were never matters of happenstance nor random in their timing. Basically, they didn’t exist. Not in my world.

  Ridiculous worries such as whether or not Miguel liked to steal the covers at night propelled me to action. I scrambled toward the wardrobe and flung it open, gasping as I took in my clothes, nicely strung on thin wire hangers.

  He’d unpacked my suitcase? He’d gone through my clothes?

  Oh, hell no! He did not handle my unmentionables. Surely he hadn’t had the gall to go that far. I moved to the matching dresser and opened the top drawer.

  Un-frikin’-believable.

  There, folded nicely in all their glory, sat my many pairs of slinky bras and panties. This eighteenth century warlock had some nerve. I spotted my suitcase stashed between the wardrobe and dresser. Repacking was about to take all of ten minutes.

  I grabbed my suitcase, flung it on the bed and proceeded to scoop up a huge armful of my
undergarments, transferring them from the drawer to my suitcase with super human speed. My frantic movements were brought up short by the sound of a key turning in the lock and the door swinging open. In walked Mr. Miguel Galvez, bearing a large bag from Starbucks and two cups filled with something that was probably drugged.

  Blast! How long had I been out this time?

  I paused with my hands in my suitcase and watched as he slammed the door shut with his foot and took inventory of the situation.

  He quirked his eyebrow in the direction of the suitcase. “My father must have done a terrible job of explaining our situation to you if your immediate response is to pack up and flee.” He went to the head of the bed and placed his breakfast on a lovely looking night stand just next to it, and then he turned around to face me.

  Insert awkward silence.

  Well, this was bizarre. We stood there, spirit medium and immortal warlock, having one heck of a staring match. Tension, thick and heavy descended upon the room as I calculated my next move while he most likely did the same.

  I decided to speak first and lay my cards out on the table.

  “I wouldn’t blame your father. He did a fantastic job of explaining exactly what your situation is. Warring covens, talismans used as weapons of mass destruction, a coded map with spelled artifacts, you being a warlock—and quite ancient I might add—there are witches out there wishing to kidnap me, and by the way I’m a witch too.” I tapped my finger against my chin as if I’d forgotten something. “Oh, and my personal favorite: Hey there, we’re supposed to get married!” I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him.

  His lips twitched. “"Yes, that last bit is my favorite part as well. Silver linings, you see. You two seem to have covered the most important items of business. Did you discuss anything else?” He had the nerve to smile at me.

  He wanted to know the location of that stupid treasure map. I nearly laughed out loud. His father’s stubbornness had ensured that I remain blissfully ignorant on that front. Miguel wouldn’t get anything from me, not even if he tortured or spelled me, which I’m sure would be his next order of business.

  “Nope. When I realized I’d unintentionally stumbled across one massive witch headache, I broke contact with him, having come to the only possible conclusion that matters.”

  He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Which is?”

  “This inn is most definitely haunted.”

  His beautiful eyes narrowed and then zeroed in on me, like he had set his sights on his prey and wasn’t about to let it get away.

  “In other words, you plan on writing your article and then leaving without a backward glance?”

  “Actually, I plan on leaving now and disappearing for at least ten years.”

  He shifted his position ever so slightly, but it looked like he was getting ready to pounce. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. My family has been searching for a medium such as yourself for several centuries.”

  “Look, your coven can find a different medium. There are plenty of them out there.”

  He inched slightly closer. Pretty soon he would be rounding the end of the bed, effectively cutting off my window of escape.

  “Not a medium with your abilities. My father isn’t the only ghost we’ll be needing to make contact with. There are spirits guarding these artifacts. Some will be unwilling to help us, and others will be impossible to reach due to certain curses placed upon them at their time of death. Your gift is more powerful than any curse or their own free will. Those particular spirits have to come when you call.”

  I bit my lip, searching my mind for an out. “There has to be someone else out there who can do what I do.”

  He shook his head. “There is not. I mentioned before that most of them were killed off during the Spanish Inquisition, and the rest have been hunted down and killed throughout the last two centuries by fanatics and warring covens. There is another group of witches out there eager to take advantage of your particular skill set, a faction of our coven that broke from us over fifty years ago.”

  “Let me guess, the Akelarre coven?”

  He nodded. “You’re all that’s left. The last of your kind. You are the only one who can help us reclaim what was once ours before our enemies do.”

  “I don’t help witches.”

  “You haven’t always felt that way. I’ve been following your activities for years.” He inched further toward the end of the bed. “You saved an entire family when a spirit contacted you to let you know his loved ones were in danger of being killed by a warlock.”

  I swallowed hard, terrified that this man had been watching my activities as far back as ten years ago. And the family he spoke of? That was one memory I could live without. I did not want to talk about the things I used to do, the problems I used to solve or the people I used to help.

  “You were spying on me?”

  “Not spying. I was trying to determine how you contacted the spirits you helped. My father sent our coven signs of your birth long ago, but up until today, I still wasn’t certain I’d found the right medium simply because I’d never witnessed your process.”

  “It’s a shame you missed out on all of the trips I took to the hospital as a child. That might have cleared up my process for you.” I said it more to gauge his reaction than anything else. I wanted to know just how long he’d been spying on me.

  He looked surprised and then thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose your parents were given countless scares when you were a child. That information would have been incredibly useful, but I didn’t discover your whereabouts until you were sixteen.”

  That long? Miguel Galvez had been observing me for over ten years?

  He inched slightly closer. “Then there was that time when you helped a young couple find their daughter’s body after she’d been missing for several days.”

  I closed my eyes at this. Uncovering her body had given her parents closure, but I’d resented the fact that I’d been powerless to prevent her death in the first place. Due to her virginal state, she’d fallen victim to a blood sacrifice by a band of witches seeking eternal life. I could still see that young teenager’s face, completely devoid of light.

  “I’m willing to help a few normal spirits track down their loved ones, but I’m finished with witches.” A slight hitch in my throat revealed a crack in my stoic demeanor.

  He rounded the bed and stood facing me. “Why?”

  Heavens he was magnificent. I had this inappropriate desire to close the distance between us and ruffle my fingers through his jet black hair.

  “They’re dangerous, crazy, power hungry and deadly. All valid reasons for avoiding them like I would a rabid Rottweiler.” I moved over to the dresser and reached into the top drawer for the rest of my unmentionables. I felt him swiftly move into position behind me and place his hands atop my shoulders.

  “Not all of us are like that.” His magic reached forward, giving me a soft caress.

  I shrugged him and his magic off, but he remained right behind me.

  “You can’t leave, Analise. I’ve waited far too long for certain events to be set in motion. We need your help. I need your help.”

  I turned to face him. His proximity nearly unnerved me to the point of speechlessness. I took a deep breath, one meant to settle me, but I unintentionally got a whiff of his aftershave. Geez, he smelled delicious. Why did he have to smell so good?

  “I am not going to help you. I’m not getting myself involved in witch business, and I’m certainly not going to spend another moment in this room with a stranger who’s been stalking me for twelve years. It’s creepy!” I considered his stance and then eyed the distance to the door. “I’m assuming you’re the one who sent that letter to my editor?”

  “I thought you might reject the idea of helping me, and I needed to get you here where you could at least meet my father and listen to what he had to say.”

  “Well, your subterfuge worked like a charm, and now I’d like to leave.”
>
  He smirked at me. “As I mentioned before, I can’t let you do that.”

  “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  His face took on a threatening gleam. “I’m a fairly powerful Basque warlock, from the Nevarre coven. There isn’t anything I can’t do, nor anything I won’t do, in order to get you to stay with me.”

  He was a Basque warlock? This situation had just gone from dangerous to suicidal. Basque witches were ruthless in their pursuit of power, and the one coven from Spain I’d hoped never to run into. I wasn’t going to survive the outcome of this no matter how nice I played. I should have felt fear, but my outrage at his threat overrode my logic.

  “You’re going to cast a spell on me?”

  He looked uncertain for a moment, but then firmed his jaw and appeared to be steeling his resolve. “I’d rather not do anything like that. If you willingly disclose the location of the letter, and aid me in my quest, the need for spells and incantations will be obsolete.”

  I folded my arms across my chest while formulating a plan. “I’m afraid disclosing the location of the letter is impossible.”

  He let out a frustrated grunt. “You refuse to tell me?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t give you information I don’t have. Your father refused to give up the location.”

  Miguel looked floored. “I don’t believe it. Why on earth would he do something like that?”

  “He won’t give me the location of the map until you and I are married. He seemed to think you’d dropped the ball on that one. I didn’t stick around after he threw out that particularly highhanded ultimatum.”

  Miguel threw his head back and let out a delightful sounding laugh. I cursed the goose bumps that rose along my arms and neck.

  “You are too much. So full of life, so feisty in nature. I must admit, in the beginning, I did not like the idea of an arranged marriage with someone so young, but after having an opportunity to get to know you, I am looking forward to sharing our lives together.”

  My eyes widened in surprise. I couldn’t believe his cavalier attitude about this. Marriage wasn’t a casual commitment. It certainly wasn’t something I took lightly. I narrowed my gaze as he continued to chuckle.