Magical Secrets (Vegas Paranormal/Club 66 Book 1)

by C. C. Mahon

  “I always cook when I’m stressed,” he said, “so I hope you’re hungry.”

  I sat up and cradled the bowl of soup in my hands. I was cold, I was tired, but other than that, I felt almost normal. I was just missing this swarming ball of terror that I had learned to live with.

  “I had no idea,” said Matteo. “You always seem so sure of yourself. I never imagined that you lived in constant dread.”

  “What did you see exactly?”

  “Nothing. I felt your fear, and I absorbed it. There was so much of it… Do you feel better?”

  “What about you? How do you feel?”

  “Physically, better than I’ve been in a long time. Strong. Sturdy.”

  “And mentally?”

  “I’m terrified,” he said with a small smile.

  “What are you scared of? The blonde won’t come looking for you here.”

  He shook his head, and his brown curls bounced as if they had a mind of their own. “It’s not my fear that I feel. It’s yours. I told you I didn’t know when I’d be able to stop feeding, but your fear took care of that. I’ve just spent a good twenty minutes curled up in a ball under the table, crying like a baby. After that, my body started digesting the emotions and I was able to get up. I went into the kitchen in order to keep my hands busy. Do you like tarte Tatin? If not, I also made pear sorbet.”

  I let my cook feed me, or rather force-feed me, and tried take stock of my situation.

  My ex had found me.

  This simple idea should’ve been enough to have me break down in tears. But thanks to Matteo and his strange dietary habits, I only felt a spark of fear, at the very bottom of my gut. Good: I needed to keep my head clear.

  So my ex had found me, and he had hired a blonde prone to violence to intimidate me. However, from what I remembered, my ex liked to take care of this kind of thing himself. He liked seeing the fear on his victims’ faces.

  Which made me think he wasn’t very far and that he was keeping an eye on my every move.

  At least in the club, I was safe.

  That wasn’t the case for Barbie.

  “Are we sure that this blonde has Barbie?” I asked.

  Matteo straightened up. “I’d forgotten.” He reached his hand into the pocket of his jeans. “The blonde gave me this.”

  It was Barbie’s lighter.

  I thought about my favorite harpy, and I felt my anger spark up again. Matteo obviously hadn’t touched that emotion. That was fine: I was going to need it.

  My scumbag ex had taken Barbie hostage. And his message also referenced Agatha. Did that mean he killed Agatha? Him or his blonde friend. But not Ernesto.

  If that maggot Ernesto was innocent of Agatha’s murder, if the poor dryad had been murdered by my horrible ex, and if he was about to inflict the same fate on Barbie… then it was no longer time for running. And the priority wasn’t vengeance. No, what I needed to do was to get my employees to safety. After which I’d need to choose: go on the run again or face Callum.

  12

  Just to be sure, I tried to reach Barbie on her cell again. It was almost 2 p.m., and the harpy should’ve been awake. But she still wasn’t answering.

  My next call was to Nate, who answered on the second ring.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as a greeting.

  The benefits of having a paranoid bear in your address book was that you could get straight to the point.

  “Barbie is in trouble. I need you to go by her place to see if you can find any trace of what happened to her. After that, go get Gertrude and bring her back here.”

  “What kind of trouble?” he asked.

  “A blonde who’s not entirely human, who likes to hit first and ask questions later.”

  I hung up. Matteo had cleared the table and sat down in front of me.

  “Should I call Gertrude?” he asked.

  I agreed. I had another call to make.

  Britannicus answered immediately. “Dear friend, are you a telepath? I was just about to call you. I found your man. He just crossed the Mexican border in a charming village called—”

  “Forget about him,” I interrupted. “I have a more urgent problem. Can you find a harpy if I give you her lighter?”

  Britannicus didn’t get hung up on my change of tone or my change of subject. “Not a chance,” he said. “For a harpy, you need feathers. One is enough, but I would prefer having a few.”

  “What am I supposed to do, go to her house to see if she lost a feather in her bed?”

  “Harpies aren’t pigeons. They don’t lose their feathers. An enemy can rip one out in battle, but I don’t recommend it. They react rather poorly.”

  I considered this information for a few seconds.

  “Might I ask as to the reason for this change of target?” asked Britannicus. “What happened to our friend Ernesto?”

  “It’s possible that someone else killed Agatha,” I said through gritted teeth. “And it’s possible that this person has now gone after my waitress, who is a harpy.”

  “I see… As much as it’s conceivable that a human could assassinate a dryad, a harpy is difficult prey, even for most supernatural creatures.”

  “Who could handle one?”

  “A club of vampires, maybe. A clan of metamorphs, possibly. A pack of ghouls, if they’re hungry enough.”

  “My only witness mentioned a blonde who looks human but who isn’t,” I said.

  “A single woman? Maybe a particularly strong witch. I’d have to ask around.”

  “Would you do that for me?”

  “For us all, my dear, for us all.”

  I hung up.

  “It wasn’t a witch,” said Matteo.

  “You heard?”

  “I wasn’t trying to. We have excellent hearing, especially when we’re well fed.”

  “Why don’t you think it was a witch?”

  “Wizards and witches are really close to normal humans,” he said. “When I tried to absorb the blonde’s emotions, I hit a wall. I don’t know what she is, but I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Great. If Matteo hadn’t drained me of my stored fear, I would’ve trembled in my boots.

  Instead, I called Nate back to ask him if Barbie had lost any feathers.

  “Her apartment was clean,” he said. “I don’t think she made it home last night. And I didn’t see any feathers. I’m with Gertrude, and we’re coming up to the club.”

  “I’ll go open the big door for you,” I said. “Park inside.”

  The club had a big outdoor parking lot, and the employees settled for parking there. I was the only one who brought my bike inside the hangar. But now wasn’t the time to be selfish, and I wanted my employees to be safe behind the protections of the club. “Close the drawbridge,” “boil the oil,” that sort of thing.

  Nate parked his banged-up truck near my bike and shot me a puzzled look.

  “I’ll explain everything downstairs,” I said. “Matteo is waiting for us.”

  My cook was brimming with creative energy, and he’d set out enough food to feed a small army. Gertrude and Nate settled in. Matteo went back and forth a few times between the main room and the kitchen until I ordered him to sit his butt down in a booth and stop moving. I remained standing in front of my team, or what was left of it.

  “Barbie is in trouble,” I said. “I haven’t been able to reach her today, and I received a message at lunchtime. Someone is threatening to do to Barb what they did to Agatha.”

  Gertrude let out a cry of despair and Nate a deep growl. Matteo didn’t say anything, but his eyes, locked on me, made me uneasy.

  “Why?” wailed Gertrude. “Why would they hurt Barbie?”

  “I’m in possession of an object,” I said. “The message was for me to exchange it for Barbie.”

  Gertrude let out a sigh of relief.

  “When?” asked Nate.

  I shot a look at Matteo before answering. “I don’t know yet.”

  “The ob
ject,” asked Matteo, “is it valuable?”

  I noticed he hadn’t said “sword,” and I was grateful for it. There was no real reason not to tell my employees this piece of information. Yet the idea of talking to them about my sword made me uncomfortable.

  “Valuable? Yes. More valuable than Barbie’s life? Absolutely not.”

  It hurt me to admit it, and the very idea of being separated from the sword pained me, but nothing could replace a life.

  “So you’re going to comply?” asked Nate.

  “I don’t have a choice,” I said. “When our mysterious blackmailer sets a time, I’ll bring her the object, and I’ll bring back Barbie. But in the meantime, I’d ask you all to stay here, at the club.”

  “Are we opening tonight?” asked Gertrude.

  “No. We don’t open for anyone as long as this isn’t taken care of.”

  “As long as you haven’t brought Barbie back with you?” she asked.

  “Exactly.”

  As long as I hadn’t brought back Barbie, settled things with my ex and his blonde, and gotten back my sword.

  After which I’d plan a raging party and I’d serve cocktails in the skulls of my enemies.

  It was a good thing that Matteo had left me my anger. But I wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if he’d taken just a little bit.

  13

  It took me almost an hour to shake off Nate and his ultra-protective nature.

  Staying locked up in a club with a nervous vampire, a troll in tears, and an obnoxious bear made me nervous. I’d decided to get out and investigate Agatha and Barbie’s disappearances. Lastly, I used Nate’s obsession against him and tasked him with protecting Gertrude and Matteo while I was gone.

  “And who will protect you?” he grumbled.

  “I’m the only one who can give them what they want. It would be stupid of them to attack me.”

  Or asking for the sword was just a ruse and my ex would pounce on me the first chance he got.

  It made sense. If he captured me, he could have made me talk at will and gotten the sword. He must’ve been dying to punish me for my betrayal, my departure, and for stealing his precious antiques.

  Normally, I would’ve straddled my bike and gone far away from Vegas without looking back.

  Without the fear that had kept me alive until now and left only with a good dose of anger to keep me warm, I disregarded logic and followed my desire to fight. I was going to find this blonde, find my ex, and explain to them both how I saw things.

  As Nate watched me leave, I got the impression that I could feel him shaking in frustration. I slipped out before he had a chance to change his mind. We needed to have a long conversation, he and I, during which I’d tell him he had to lay off me if he wanted to keep his job.

  My first stop was the apartment building where Barbie lived.

  The building reminded me of the three little pigs’ houses. If a wolf sneezed the wrong way, the six apartments, the outside hallways, and the tin roof would blow away without a trace. Like Barbie. Like her car that wasn’t in the small parking lot.

  Nate had broken down the door to get into the apartment, but it was the only indication that something wasn’t right in Barbie’s life. The studio smelled of stale tobacco, the walls were yellowed, but everything was neat, and I didn’t find any feathers.

  I knocked on the neighbor’s door. An old lady lived there, deaf as a doornail but a real chatty Cathy. She hadn’t seen Barbie in forty-eight hours.

  Since I didn’t know what else to do at Barbie’s place, I got back on my bike. Agatha had been renting a studio a few streets over. The police had put stickers on the door. I hesitated to break them when a voice made me jump.

  “Are you looking for someone?”

  A young lady had come out of the apartment next door. She was holding a baby, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

  “I…I was coming to see…”

  “Did you know Agatha?”

  “I was her boss.”

  She let me into her cramped two bedroom and gave me a coffee that I drank sitting at the kitchen table, between a pile of clean clothes and a pack of diapers (clean as well, thank God).

  “Agatha was a chill girl,” she said. “She never complained about the baby crying. She even offered to babysit for a few hours so I could nap.”

  I imagined my sweet dryad taking care of a human baby, and I felt my heart tighten.

  “One day, she left for work and she never came home,” concluded my host. “The police came the next day. They searched her apartment. I heard them tear the place apart, but they didn’t find anything. At least that’s what they said when they left. Is it true what they’re saying? That her boyfriend did this to her?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Have you seen a blonde woman around?” I asked. “Before Agatha disappeared or maybe after?”

  “The detective? The one with the very short hair?”

  “No, another one.”

  She shook her head. The baby fussed, and its mother got up to rock it.

  “If you ever see her,” I said, “be careful. She seems to be dangerous.”

  I thanked the young mother for the coffee and left. Behind me, I heard the locks being turned.

  Agatha and Barbie had vanished, disappeared without a trace, both of them. When Agatha had resurfaced, after a few hours, she was dead. In what state were we going to find Barbie?

  All of this was my fault. I was tired of running. I’d thought I’d be able to create a new life, to settle down for a few years. I’d thought a few spells could protect me. I’d forgotten to protect the others, those that I’d gathered around me to reassure myself. If I hadn’t asked them anything about their past, it wasn’t out of the goodness of my heart. It was to allow myself to keep my past from them. As if keeping them in the dark would keep them safe.

  You’ve been arrogant, “Erica St Gilles.” And now your employees are paying the price.

  And now? Was I going to keep feeling sorry for myself or do something to save Barbie?

  I wondered if someone had found the cars of the two missing women.

  The vehicles weren’t at the club or at their owners’ apartments. Had the blonde used her victims’ cars to move them? In that case, she might’ve left some evidence in them. The police could lift prints or find DNA. But only a wizard could use it to find the culprit.

  My phone rang, and I didn’t recognize the number. With a heavy heart, I answered.

  “It’s King,” announced the detective. “So when does your waitress get up? She really should call me.”

  “About that,” I said. “It’s possible she may be missing.”

  King let out a string of swears through the phone before asking, “Would it kill you to be a little more precise?”

  “I went by her place. She didn’t go home last night. Her car isn’t there. Her cell goes directly to voicemail.”

  “Did she get scared and run?” suggested King.

  “You don’t know her. She wouldn’t run.”

  “You said she and Agatha were close. The news might’ve made her relapse. Do you know who her dealer is?”

  I let out a sigh of frustration. I didn’t want to involve the police in my blackmail problem, but how could I convince King to help me without telling her everything?

  “I don’t know her old dealer. All that is behind her. Could you check if they’ve found her car?”

  “Give me her name and I’ll check.”

  “Weren’t you on forced vacation?” I asked.

  She drew in a breath and let it out. “I apologized to the Captain.”

  I didn’t have to see her to guess that she had just said that through gritted teeth. I didn’t say anything, settling for giving her my favorite harpy’s official identity.

  “Keep me up to date about Barbie’s car?” I asked. “I’m worried.”

  King hung up, letting me stew in my frustration.

  Because I was coming up empty from this angle, I de
cided to change tactics. A guy as rich and sadistic as my ex and a blonde prone to violence were bound to attract attention, even in a city like Vegas. It was time to talk to my network. Or at least, the small network I’d built while spending most of my time hiding behind the protections of Club 66. You could be sure that it wasn’t going to take very long.

  14

  When I’d arrived in Las Vegas a few months ago, I hadn’t known anyone. It was what had drawn me to settle down here, in the most touristic city in the country.

  I knew I needed a wizard to protect my apartment and my future nightclub. But how did one find a wizard in an unknown city? Vegas wasn’t Chicago, and here, the Guild didn’t have an ad in the Yellow Pages—I know, I checked. I’d therefore had to scour all kinds of new age boutiques and mediums’ parlors until I found someone to talk to. I’d kept a few contacts.

  I started on Fremont Street, the historic center of Vegas.

  The Golden Dragon was one of the oldest casinos in the city. The establishment had undergone some remodels in the post-war era, but it still boasted a far different ambiance than the rest of the establishments on the Strip.

  The casino was much smaller than the recent establishments, and the atmosphere was more subdued. Here, there weren’t bands of drunk tourists but rather hordes of retirees glued to their slot machines as much as their oxygen tanks. Further down the poker tables were lined up, nearly empty on this late afternoon, and the Baccara tables too.

  Kaiko was dealing at the furthest table from the door. Her shiny black hair tied in a low bun, a Chinese-style dress hugging her curves, the dealer was dealing cards to two grandmas with pink hair. The grandmas were giggling like schoolgirls, but Kaiko was unfazed. It was part of her role as a dealer, I supposed. But her fundamental nature meant she didn’t smile a lot anyways. When Kaiko showed you her teeth, all you could do at that point was pray.