The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  Great.

  “But you must talks with me.”

  “Why”

  “Pourquois pas?”

  “What?”

  “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not, what? Stop it!” Giselle demanded. “You’re confusing me. Why must I talk to you?”

  “I not know, but the more you do not talk to me, the more I must talk to you. Why we not go upstairs to the hotel room and have the sex? You would take shower first, but then the sex would be okay,” he said, panting like an eager puppy.

  “No.”

  “No shower? That okay. We ’ave the sex even if no shower.”

  “No sex. No talk. No nothing. Just go.”

  The eager puppy dog look fell from Vector’s face and his sad eyes slid downward. He turned and began to trudge away.

  “Wait,” Giselle called.

  He looked back with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  Giselle took the box of chocolates from his hand. “Thanks. Now go,” she said.

  It wasn’t nice, but a girl had to have a chocolate at a time like this.

  Giselle had just pressed the elevator button again when the desk clerk called to her. “Ms. Hunter.” He motioned her toward him.

  She rolled her eyes. Apparently she was going to have to limp her stinky self over to the desk. As she approached, the clerk eyed her and backed away a bit with a crinkle in his nose.

  “You’ve had two deliveries while you were out.” He produced a cellophane-wrapped bundle of at least a dozen burgundy red roses from under the desk. He handed them to her with a look that said, “Who in their right mind would send you flowers?”

  Ry! It must have been Ry who’d sent them. Like Vector he’d probably called the magazine. He obviously felt guilty about his lying jerkiness. Maybe gorgeous love making did outweigh after all. Not that she’d accept his apology.

  She snatched the card out of the arrangement, and read. Come to me. So far so good. And be my love. Better and better. Yours for eternity. Wow, that was a commitment. Lester.

  It took a few moments to register. Lester? She read the card again. It had to be a mistake. The flowers had to be from Ry. He was the one who owed her red roses. Besides, why would Lester send her flowers, pledging eternal love? That was a long time, particularly for a vampire and they didn’t have that kind of relationship. It just didn’t make sense.

  A glance out the nearby window revealed a blue—not red—sky. Good. At least she hadn’t somehow slipped into an alternate universe.

  She looked up at the clerk. “You said two deliveries?”

  He nodded and produced a business-size envelope. Uh-oh. She recognized this plain office stock. Giselle tore it open and extracted the paper from inside. In large block letters it read, You’ve been warned. Leave or die!

  The box of chocolates beckoned. She opened it and took one out. No, make that two. What the heck, three would fit in her mouth at one time.

  The clock over the desk clerk’s head told her it was 11:40 a.m. Almost half of Sunday was gone. She still had no ghost. There’d been no apology from Ry. What she did have was another death threat. On the upside she had two admirers—a skunk and a vampire.

  A Girl, a Guy and a Ghost: Chapter Nine

  Hobbling toward the elevators, Giselle jammed the bundle of flowers under her armpit, squashing a few of the half-open buds. She took another chocolate from the box, popped it into her mouth and bit down. Chocolate relief melted in her mouth. Perhaps if she ate the entire box she could induce a sugar coma. A sugar coma might be welcome at a time like this. Once she woke up, this nightmare would all be over. And she might be able to elicit some sympathy if she were in a coma.

  “Ms. Hunter?” The voice of the clerk stopped her midway to her destination.

  She turned with a weary sigh. Cocking her head to one side, she placed one hand on her hip.

  “Whaaagt,” she demanded. Her garbled question came through the chocolate filling her mouth.

  The desk clerk’s lip curled.

  Oh, who cared what he thought? Chewing with her mouth open was the least of her worries at this point.

  “I hope there will be no more disruptions of the hotel’s peaceful atmosphere,” the clerk said with a disapproving sniff.

  Yeah, whatever. She nodded and gave a little buzz-off wave with her non-chocolate holding hand before turning to limp forward again.

  Just a few more steps to the elevator. She could make it. And if she could make it to the elevator, she could make it to her room. If she could make it to her room, she could make it to the bed. If she could make it to the bed, she could finally collapse. After a shower. A hot shower was an absolute must before she collapsed.

  Her right hand came up. She pointed the index finger and it hovered just inches from the Up button when she heard it.

  “Destroyer! Defiler!” A baritone bellow sent reverberations through the hotel lobby.

  That baritone couldn’t be referring to her. Just ignore it. Giselle hunched down and stabbed at the elevator call button.

  “Arsonist!” The bellow echoed again.

  That could be her. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t actually started the fire at the wizard’s house. Na. The bellow wasn’t talking to her. Giselle stabbed the call button again.

  “Thief!” The booming voice accused.

  That could very well be her. But she hadn’t taken anything she hadn’t returned. Probably wasn’t referring to her.

  “Giselle Hunter!”

  Crap. No question at all now.

  Giselle swallowed the last of the chocolate she’d been chewing and glanced over her shoulder with a grimace. Kopeleski, with his white electrified hair, stood in the entrance to the hotel lobby. She had a few seconds to note that he wore a black floor-length duster jacket adorned with heavy silver-tone buckles over a bare chest. That chest. The wizard had man boobs—wrinkled and droopy man boobs—covered with age spots. She had to admit that he did sport six-pack abs. Abs like six packs of soggy cigarettes. The bottom portion of the ensemble consisted of black silk pajama bottoms, covering the rest of his equipment, thankfully. The outfit was completed by black flip-flops.

  The wizard stormed across the lobby, his flip-flops slapping loudly against the tile of the floor. He pushed past two shocked onlookers, past the desk clerk, and continued toward her.

  The desk clerk pinned her with a condemning glare.

  Just ignore him.

  Giselle stabled the elevator call button again. Where was the freaking thing? The only car in working order was still on the tenth floor according to the indicator above the door. With no escape in sight, Giselle faced her accuser.

  Kopeleski skid to a halt in front of her.

  “How did you know I was staying here?” she asked.

  “I am psychic.”

  “Yeah. Right. You called the magazine.”

  “I demand satisfaction,” he said.

  A tiny bit of saliva flew from his mouth and hit Giselle on the cheek as he said the word “satisfaction” and Giselle winced.

  “Are you challenging me to a duel?” Even in her weakened condition, she was pretty certain she could take the old codger. However, a fight would be annoying.

  “You know what I want,” he said with derision. “I want my medal. If you don’t give it to me immediately you will suffer the consequences.”

  She glanced up. The elevator was still on the tenth floor. Blast.

  “I don’t have your medal. What makes you think I do?”

  “Come now, Ms. Hunter. I know that you touched the medal prior to the séance. Madam Divinity read your poisonous influence on the object. You were obviously trying to steal it and you tried to get at it again when you set fire to my house.”

  “I didn’t try to steal your crummy medal.” Well, that was true. She didn’t try. She had stolen it—briefly. “And I didn’t set fire to your house.”

  “Liar!” he shouted, thrusting
an accusing finger into her face. It practically touched her nose.

  “Get that finger out of my face before I bite it off.” Giselle made a chomping lunge toward the finger with her mouth, her teeth snapped shut.

  Kopeleski jerked his hand away and nursed the finger protectively against his chest.

  “You little barbarian. I should turn you into a warthog.”

  “Isn’t a toad more traditional?” she asked sarcastically.

  “You will regret your flippancy. Your antics last night destroyed months of careful work. Last night was the perfect opportunity to contact the ghost of―”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Giselle mocked. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your petty complaints.”

  He looked ready to erupt with more angry protests and she cut him off. “Listen, I don’t have your medal. I saw it fall out the window last night. It’s probably on the ground somewhere under your balcony.”

  The wizard ran a hand through his wild mane as he considered her reasoning.

  The desk clerk approached. His steps clipped officiously on the tile floor.

  “Miss Hunter, I must insist that you take your argument with this—” his eyes cut to the wizard, “gentleman to some place more private. You are disrupting the entire hotel.”

  “We aren’t arguing. The gentleman is merely visiting me. This hotel does permit its guests to have visitors, doesn’t it?”

  “Slut!” The shout of a female voice echoed in the lobby. Uh-oh. She recognized that voice. “Harlot. Tramp.”

  Damn. She was going to have to talk to the magazine about giving her location to every Tom, Dick and Madam.

  “It appears you have another visitor,” the desk clerk said, his lip curled in smirky distaste.

  “What makes you think she’s here to see me?” Giselle asked.

  Hotel patrons who had been moving naturally moments before stopped in their tracks to stare at the woman with luxurious long gray hair, wearing a billowing purple caftan, loping across the lobby.

  “Giselle Hunter!” Madam Divinity shouted.

  The desk clerk snorted.

  Giselle cringed. “Okay, Mr. Smarty-pants. You were right.”

  The twenty or so hotel patrons who had been milling about the lobby suddenly parted down the middle in what looked like a choreographed dance step. It was as if they were performers in a chorus line making way for the entrance of the lead dancer on the stage. And Madam had the look of a star as she glided through the opening, looking neither right nor left. Her gaze didn’t waver from Giselle. When she reached her target, the chorus line closed ranks as one and then began moving around lobby again.

  “You terrible, horrible, girl. I want to know what you were doing with my son.”

  “Are ya kiddin’ me?” Giselle asked incredulously. “I thought it would be obvious even to you.”

  “No. Not that. I want to know what you were trying to achieve by playing with my son.”

  “I don’t think you can possibly be serious,” Giselle said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m completely serious. I demand satisfaction,” Madam shouted.

  On the word “satisfaction”, a fleck of spit hit Giselle’s cheek. She didn’t wince this time.

  “Did the two of you rehearse this comedy routine?” Giselle asked Madam with a tweak of her head toward Kopeleski. She started to wipe at the spot on her cheek with the back of her hand then thought better of it. Wouldn’t want to make one clean spot on her face.

  Madam acknowledged the wizard with a glance and a nod. “Hello, Armand.”

  “Madam,” he said softly, and gave a slight bow.

  “I’ll leave you to deal with your guests, Ms. Hunter,” the desk clerk commented in a barbed tone and a sneer before returning to the front desk.

  At his departure, Madam turned hard eyes on Giselle again. “You may have bewitched my son by appealing to his baser instincts. But you do not deceive me, you slutty, fat―”

  “Watch it, Madam.” Giselle’s fist, the one not holding the box of chocolates, clenched. She felt a flush of anger move up her neck and flood her dirty face.

  She’d had just about enough of this family. Although not normally prone to violence, Giselle found that she was curiously eager to deck Madam Divinity and she wasn’t thinking of using a tarot deck.

  “You seduced my son in order to attack me. Your motives are obvious. Who sent you to Savannah to destroy my psychic work?”

  “Yeah right. It’s all about you,” Giselle said with a snort. “You are seriously crazy, Madam.”

  “I’m crazy? Who was it that came to my home and destroyed a crystal ball that was over one hundred years old?”

  “Madam, you are mistaken,” Kopeleski interjected. “This phony ghost hunter is here attempting to destroy my work. You recall what she did at the séance last night. Her target is me, not you.”

  The medium made a negative jerk of her head and then poked Giselle in the chest with her finger. The tip of the long nail, painted with black polish made an ouchy spot.

  “I don’t care what your motives are. Leave my son alone, Ms. Hunter, or you will regret it.”

  “I already regret becoming involved with your son, Madam. I don’t want anything more to do with that son of a―”

  “The cards say you lie. You want my son. But he will never marry you if I can help it.” Sparks almost flew from the woman’s eyes. More spittle landed on Giselle’s cheek.

  “I won’t let you hurt him, you little tramp.”

  “I don’t want to hurt him. Well, maybe I do, but not the way you mean. I could give him a good knee to the groin about now. But I’m not going anywhere near the creep, so you can relax.”

  “You endanger him just by being in his presence. So, you must stay away from him!”

  Giselle tugged an impatient hand into her knotted glop-filled hair. “Didn’t I just say I’m no longer involved with him? Jeeze.” She tried to run her fingers through the hair, but ended up having to pull the hand out of the tangled mess.

  She pointed a dirty finger at Madam. “Let me tell you something, you old biddy. If I wanted to have a relationship with your jerky son you wouldn’t scare me away. So just back off.”

  “You hateful girl. You’re a pollution, a, a, a—” Madam searched for the right word.

  “Toxic poison?” the wizard supplied.

  “Yes, exactly!” Madam offered him a dazzling smile. “Thank you, Armand.”

  “You had better never see Ry again or else,” Madam said, with emphasis on the “else.”

  That phrase sounded familiar. Oh, yeah. It had appeared in at least one of the written death threats. Giselle took a step toward the older woman. Madam towered over her. Oh, well, perhaps if she couldn’t intimidate her with size, the smell of the goop covering Giselle would frighten Madam.

  “Or else, what?” Giselle was eye to chin with the medium. She looked up, doing her best to transmit a seriously hateful glint from her eyes. “I understand from Mr. Kopeleski here that turning me into a warthog is a popular choice. You could try that.”

  Madam sneered. “You think you’re so clever. But you’re not clever enough you phony little tramp.”

  “Don’t push me,” Giselle warned. “I’m tired, hungry and smelly. That’s a dangerous combination.”

  “Don’t you dare threaten this lady, you nasty girl.” Kopeleski’s baritone boomed and he moved in squaring his shoulders. He stood as a block between Giselle and Madam.

  The ping signaling the arrival of the elevator sounded. Then there was a slight woosh of metal sliding against metal as the doors parted.

  Giselle pointed to Kopeleski. “I don’t have your medal.”

  She pointed to Madam. “I don’t want your son.”

  Giselle took a half turn then turned back to Madam. “Here,” she said thrusting the crumpled bundle into Madam’s chest. “Have some flowers.”

  The doors moved and Giselle jumped into the gap to prevent them from closing again. “I’ll be leaving
you now. Maybe you two should get a room. You seem to have a lot in common.”

  Stepping all the way into the empty elevator car, Giselle pressed the button for the eleventh floor. She leaned against the mirrored back wall. The gap narrowed, closing out the angry faces of Madam and the wizard. The doors clamped shut and with a jerk the car moved upward.

  First floor, second, third…not much farther now. She was almost to her room. Nothing would stand between her and a hot shower followed by a long nap. Tenth floor. One more to go.

  The elevator car shook.

  Giselle held her breath. Her heart raced. Jerk. Shudder. Scraping and screech of metal on metal. Jolt.

  She could hear the thump, thump, thump of her heart in her ears. Giselle’s body shook. Or was it the elevator car?

  The elevator car abruptly shuddered to a stop.

  Uh-oh. The car was not quite on the tenth floor and not quite on the eleventh floor.

  Surely it would start moving again. Giselle continued to hold her breath, hoping.

  Giselle gulped in a lung full of air. Crap. The elevator wasn’t going to start moving again. It was stuck.

  This just wasn’t turning out to be her day.

  * * *

  Her watch said 12:10 p.m. It had been ten minutes since the elevator came to rest. Sitting on the floor of the car with her back to the mirrors, her face buried in the palms of her hands, Giselle groaned. She fought the nausea that pushed a sour taste up into her throat. The bottom portion of the box of chocolates lay empty beside her. The top portion was near the door where she had tossed it. A scattered handful of brown wrappers made a trail between the two halves.

  Giselle burped. “Excuse me,” she said automatically, and then laughed at the absurdity of the apology. The laugh hurt. “Ugh,” she moaned, hugging her aching stomach.

  Surely someone had noticed that the elevator was stuck by now. The phone in the call box of the elevator car had been of no help. Giselle had tried to reach someone seconds after the elevator came to a stop and…nothing. No tone, no ringing, no nothing to indicate that the phone worked.