by E G Bateman
“Those were there when I drew the gold from the net. I suspect they were always there but hidden by magic.”
She gazed at the ring. “Bryan found it in Braxton’s safe. It was in an envelope with my name on it.”
“I’d guess it’s probably your mother’s wedding ring,” Dick said and slid his cell phone into his pocket. “Well, Jesús isn’t picking up. I’d better see what he’s up to. Lexi, it’s been…well, I’m not sure what it’s been, but you saved my life and for that, I’m grateful.”
“You’re all right, Dick.”
He turned to Scott. “You’re a fine young man, Scott. I hope we meet again.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The vampire entered the house and called, “Jesús.”
He dropped his keys in the dish and was immediately aware that something wasn’t right.
When he entered the living area, he found Jesús gagged and bound in the Eames lounger with a box-cutter held at his throat.
“Hello, sir.” The man with the blade was reverential.
He turned his back on the scene and walked to the kitchen where he took a glass and filled it from the refrigerator’s blood cooler. He nodded and looked up. “Hello, Geoffrey.”
The man watched him drink the blood. “What are you doing, drinking that stuff? You don’t need that. You’ve got me. You don’t need him, either.”
Dick glanced at Jesús. His eyes were red and his breathing was labored. He’d probably cried so much his nose was blocked and he looked terrified.
The vampire returned his gaze to his unwanted visitor. “Really? My Givenchy scarf?”
“I’m sorry, sir. He wouldn’t shut up.”
For now, he needed the knife to move away from Jesús. “Geoffrey, what are you doing? I said you would be welcome here when you were healed, but you keep running away from the hospital.”
“I couldn’t bear to be away from you and they’ll never let me leave. Not now.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What have you done?”
“She was giving me pills—pills that would turn my blood bad. I had to make her stop.”
A muffled squeak issued from Jesús.
Dick glanced at the trickle of blood on his houseboy’s neck. “I see. And you thought getting blood all over my Eames lounger would encourage me to welcome you home?”
“I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t. Well, if you’re back, you’re back. I’ll get changed. You would absolutely not believe what these stains are. I don’t know if they’ll ever come out.” He washed the glass out and turned it upside-down on the drainer.
The two men both watched as he walked to the little bowl and lifted the keys out.
“You’ll have to get yourself a key made.” He threw the keys across the room to Geoffrey, who instinctively moved his hand to catch them. By the time they were in his hand, Dick was at his throat.
The vampire pulled the scarf from Jesús’s mouth, used the box-cutter on the ties, and walked to the bar and poured them both a large drink.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lexi and Scott were very pleased to be back in their piece-of-shit car and headed out of Palm Springs.
She looked at her companion, who grinned broadly as he drove. This was a real treat for him as she rarely let him take the wheel.
In all honesty, she didn’t have the energy. Edward had invited them to stay the night and she’d been tempted. If they’d stayed, though, they’d have to get involved in the clean-up and that really wasn’t her thing.
Relieved that she’d at least avoided that, she took the opportunity to close her eyes.
“Holy shit!” Scott swerved and the car spun, left the road, plowed through a fence, and impacted with a billboard.
Lexi put out her arms and was hauled against the seat by her seatbelt. “What the fuck? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I only—” He looked at the road over his shoulder, his expression dazed.
“Then what the fuck?” She leapt out of the car and walked to the front. “Well, this is going nowhere.”
“I’m sorry. There was someone on the road.”
“Really? Or did you nod off, you jackass?” She punched him in the arm.
“Could I offer you a ride somewhere?”
She turned to the familiar voice. “Dick?”
“Dude, was that you? Why were you standing in the middle of the road?” Scott leaned heavily on the hood and dragged his fingers over his scalp.
“I was worried you’d miss me.” The vampire walked around the car.
Lexi folded her arms. “You’re lucky we missed you. What are you doing here?”
He released a huge, dramatic sigh. “I am so over Palm Springs.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s up? Wouldn’t Kate give you back your house?”
“Oh, we resolved that. Jesús will look after it for a while.”
“I thought you were going to check on Betsy.” Scott pulled his duffel out of the trunk.
“I’ll write.” Dick turned to Lexi. “Can I come along for the ride?”
Lexi narrowed her eyes. “You’ve already agreed on this with Dolores, haven’t you?”
“Well…” He spread his arms and shrugged.
“We seem to be shit-out-of-luck in the engine department, anyway.” She began to walk toward his day car.
The three of them climbed in and the vampire locked the doors. “So, where are we heading?”
“New Orleans.” She smirked.
He looked in the rearview mirror. “Wait, what? No. It’s too humid. I’ll die.”
Scott raised a brow and smirked. “You’re already dead.”
“You know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes.
“It’s your own fault. You gave me the clue.” Lexi held the photograph up.
“Well, shit. Buckle up. Do you want the radio on, or should I simply ask Alexa to play something?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dick lay in his body bag. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Scott continued to point his finger at the bag and he smiled as little diamantes appeared where he indicated.
They’d been in their hotel suite in the resort of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, for two days. Dolores had people everywhere on the lookout for Caleb, and Lexi hadn’t held out much hope that he’d surface. The sighting had taken them all by surprise. They had monitored his movements and now, they merely waited for their opportunity to eliminate him.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t do this at night so I could do it. I should be the one doing this—to his face.” The vampire sounded sullen.
She watched Caleb through the scope as she spoke. “You know why. He comes out to sunbathe at the pool for an hour a day. It’s the only time he’s accessible. Anyway, you will be doing it.”
He ignored that and continued to complain. “I can’t believe I’m back in Cabo. I haven’t been here since I was alive. This whole burning-in-the-sun thing is such an inconvenience.”
Scott looked astonished. “Really? I could fix that.”
“I doubt it.” Dick sighed, “I think I’d have heard about that by now.”
Lexi glanced at her friend. They both shrugged. Why not?
“It’s kind of against the rules,” the young man continued, “but since we’re fugitives, I could probably help you.”
“Are you shitting me?” The vampire sounded indignant.
“Shh! It’s going down.” Caleb sat in his usual lounger, reading his newspaper. Lexi’s gaze followed a beautiful young server who carried a tray. She approached from behind and to his side, put the drink down, and turned to walk away.
Unfortunately, she turned at the sound of a click.
Caleb, still reading his newspaper, had produced a fifty-peso note and held it up between two fingers. The young woman’s gaze shifted uncertainly to Lexi’s window.
“Shit!” She shook her head to indicate that the woman should get out of there.
Dick hal
f-sat in the bag. “What’s going on?”
“He’s trying to tip her.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.
Scott stood to look out of the window. “If she takes that note, he’ll sense the magic.”
Her gaze remained focused on the scene through the scope. “If she doesn’t take the tip, he’ll know something’s wrong.”
The server looked at the other guests around the pool, then glanced at the window. She raised her hand to a thin chain around her neck and pulled.
As it broke, so did the spell. Had anyone been looking, they would have seen the beautiful young woman instantly turn into a little old lady.
Betsy leaned forward and snagged the note from Caleb’s fingers. “Gracias.”
She walked as far as the bar, then turned to watch.
“Is she inside?” Dick asked.
Lexi shook her head. “No, she’s at the bar, ordering a drink.”
“What if he sees her? We shouldn’t have involved her.” The vampire wriggled so much inside the bag that she was tempted to tell Scott to sit on him.
“It was your idea.” She rolled her eyes.
Caleb put his newspaper down and picked the glass up. She focused on his lips as he muttered a word. He seemed satisfied that the drink was safe, glanced at the little pot of olives and cocktail sticks, and smiled. With a practiced movement, he snagged an olive and dropped it into the drink before he knocked it back.
“I’m glad she’s here. I’d never have thought to put it in the olives.” She shrugged.
The sorcerer sat bolt upright, instantly aware that something wasn’t right. He looked around and his jaw dropped at the sight of Betsy seated at the poolside bar with a glass of gin. She toasted him with a broad smile.
He muttered a word at the woman, then muttered again. He seemed to have discovered that his magic wasn’t working.
“What’s happening?” Dick punched the bag from the inside.
Lexi took the shot. The gun was shielded by magic so no one heard it. The bullet was a Scott special, a combination of tech and magic, and it found Caleb’s heart without breaking his skin.
She addressed the body bag. “It’s done. Over to you.”
The sorcerer clutched his chest. It was clear he knew something was coming.
Dick paused for a moment before he said, “Stop.”
His heart stopped and he sagged onto the lounger, dead.
Lexi stared at the ocean from a little table on the promenade.
Betsy placed a hand on her arm. “Where will you go now?”
“We only got as far as Phoenix when the call came. I guess we’ll go back to pick up the car and continue to New Orleans. How about you?”
“I’ll return to the house. Dolores will contact me about visiting Todd in Fae. It’ll take some time for him to heal.”
Dick turned to the older woman. “What’s the point in knocking around that big place alone? Why don’t you come to New Orleans with us?”
“Dick, I’m eighty years old. I’m too old to be gallivanting around the country fighting monsters.”
Scott stood, removed the chain from his pocket, and placed it on the table in front of Betsy. “You don’t have to be too old to do anything.”
She picked it up with two fingers and dangled it in the air in front of her face. “I’ll admit it was good to move around without arthritis pain.”
“Here it comes.” Lexi sat up excitedly.
The vampire passed Marcel to Betsy. “If this doesn’t work—”
“Dude, have some faith.” Scott clapped him on the back and sat.
He turned to the young man. “I’m sitting here about to face the sun. I think I’m showing an extraordinary level of faith in you, Scott.”
Dick faced the ocean and saw his first sunrise in over seventy years. A tear rolled down his face in a moment so magical that nothing could spoil it.
“Okay, I got one,” Scott began. “A vampire walks into a shifter bar…”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amy lay motionless in the coffin and remained as quiet as she could. She was fairly sure the museum would be empty by now, but there was another reason to not move. The padding beneath her was hard and uncomfortable and every time she shifted even slightly, her nose was assaulted by a musty smell.
It had never occurred to her before that coffins didn’t need to be as comfortable as they looked. The user wouldn’t ever leave a one-star review on TripAdvisor. She might, though. Museum of Death. One-night stay. Coffin extremely uncomfortable, no breakfast. She stifled a giggle, then sighed. She wondered—and not for the first time—why on earth she’d said yes to this ridiculous plan.
As Jamal had explained it, she had to be the one to do it because the coffin was so stupidly small that only she would fit. She could have argued or flat-out refused. There were probably a few places he could have hidden. But, of course, she had relented. She always did with him. One look into those dark-brown eyes and her bones simply melted, along with any semblance of common sense.
She wondered what might happen if she were caught there. If she finally sat up to find herself surrounded by police officers. She could be kicked out of medical school, for one thing. And what might possibly be worse, her parents would discover she wasn’t spending summer break with Julie’s family in the Hamptons. She was in fact, shacked up with her boyfriend in New Orleans. She had to stop herself from giggling again. Her dad would have a stroke.
Jamal had been desperate to come. He was obsessed with the place—and with voodoo—and told her he wanted to “find his people.”
So much for that idea. She frowned in the darkness.
The locals treated him like a tourist wannabe and didn’t understand how serious he was about it. If she was honest, she didn’t get it herself. She didn’t know whether she believed or not, but she didn’t like to see her boyfriend dismissed so casually. They’d both eaten nothing but ramen and worked extra shifts for months to afford this break. But at the end of the day, their response didn’t matter. This would show everyone.
He was about to get a top-level recommendation—one they couldn’t ignore. The top-level, if what Jamal said was true.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face and entered her ear. At least she hoped it was sweat.
Fuck this. I’m getting out.
She pushed the lid up and moved it to the side. When she sat, it slid off. Too slowly, she lurched out to catch it and missed. She hunched her shoulders and gritted her teeth as it fell to the floor with a bang. The sound was like an explosion in the stillness of the room.
If anyone was in the building, that noise would definitely bring them running. She waited.
After a few moments of silence, Amy drew the cellphone from her purse and clicked its flashlight on to find her bearings inside the Museum of Death. Carefully, she climbed from the coffin and dusted herself off with her hands. She played the light around the room and caught dust motes from the disturbed coffin in the beam.
Instruments of torture, autopsy photos, and newspaper headlines with pictures of serial killers were illuminated. As she flicked the light around, a death mask loomed out of the darkness. She stumbled back against the coffin. It wobbled on the stand and for a breath-holding moment, she thought it might collapse, but it settled. She blew stray bangs away from her face.
As a med student, she had seen corpses and witnessed a couple of autopsies. Death didn’t frighten her, but still.
This place is creepy as hell.
She crept through the rooms and finally located a glass cabinet. A photograph above it was easily identifiable as the much-adored voodoo queen, Marie Laveau. With a slow and cautious motion, she stroked the face in the picture. In front of that and beneath the glass were several pieces of her jewelry. There were other trinkets and pictures, but they didn’t interest her. She pulled at the frame, but nothing budged. Irritated, she cast the light over the cabinet and found a keyhole. It was locked.
&
nbsp; “Shit!” She glanced around the room. Jamal was relying on her. She’d come this far and wouldn’t go home empty-handed.
Amy approached a wall display and lifted a heavy metal surgical implement from its bracket. As a medical student, she should know what it was called. Jamal would know. She tested the weight in her hand and decided it would do.
Resolute, she returned to the cabinet, swung the instrument at the glass, and turned her face away at the last moment. She was rewarded by an almighty crash. Most of the top shelf disintegrated and the jewelry and pictures fell to the shelf below.
Hastily, she picked through the glass but withdrew her hand quickly. “Son of a bitch!” She had cut her fingers and looked at the incisions in the light from her cell. They were minor but stung a little, which merely increased her irritation. She played the light over the tiny shards again until she saw the glint from a ring. That was it. She was done. Without care for any further possible injury, she brushed the glass aside, snatched the ring, and ran to the door.
The apartment, fortunately, was only a couple of blocks away and a few minutes later, she burst through the door, closed it with her butt, and leaned against it. She had run all the way and heaved breaths with her hand on her chest.
Jamal walked through from the living room. “Did you get it?”
Instantly, she was annoyed. “Yes, Jamal, this is blood and it does hurt.”
He walked to her and cupped her hand tenderly in his. His gaze settled on the ring which glinted in the light while a trail of blood dribbled into her palm from her fingers.
Amy looked at him and realized he wore only his shorts. The air-con was off and a sheen of sweat covered his body. White dots of paint trailed intricate swirling patterns around his face and chest, starkly vivid against his dark-brown skin.
“The blood will be good for the ritual.” He plucked the ring from the little red puddle, turned away, and headed toward the living room.
