The guys in the front seat had fallen into an uncomfortable silence, probably trying to decide whether Lauren needed to be hauled to the nearest police precinct or mental hospital, rather than the mall.
Traffic was light, and in fifteen minutes they made it to the mall parking lot. Lauren had already warned Macy that they had to do a quick exchange of cars and not linger talking.
When they pulled into the lot beside Macy’s car, Lauren leaned forward and said, “Carson, I need you to come with me, okay?”
He gave her an odd look, but shrugged and said, “Sure.”
“Griffin, Macy’s going to get in the car with you. I want you and Macy to leave, be careful to make sure no one’s following you, and don’t ever go back to my apartment again.” She held his gaze until he nodded. “Carson and I will be in contact again as soon as we can, but don’t worry if you don’t hear from us for a while.”
Carson’s expression was growing more concerned by the second. “Um, any minute now would be a good time to tell me what the hell’s going on.”
“You’ll have to let someone at your office know that you won’t be in for a few days—at the least.”
He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Just as soon as you tell me what’s going on.”
Lauren bit her lip, but said nothing. If she’d been smart, she would have come up with some great cover story to not alarm them all so much.
“Let’s get in Macy’s car, and then I’ll explain.”
Carson did as instructed, exiting Griffin’s car without any more protest. Good thing he probably would have walked through fire to get some time alone with her.
Outside the car, Lauren gave Macy a quick hug, took the car key she offered, and waved goodbye to Griffin. Once in the car with Carson, they watched as Macy and Griffin drove away.
“We have to find a pay phone. I think there’s one on the other side of the mall,” she said as she started the car.
“I’ve got my cell phone—you can use that,” Carson said.
“No, it’s not secure enough.”
“Are you like a spy or something?” he asked.
“I wish it was that simple.”
The mall parking lot had emptied out at this time of night, and the remaining cars were clustered around the restaurants that stayed open late. Lauren spotted a pay phone and pulled over near it.
The farther she got from the invasion of her apartment, the less real it felt. She could have almost convinced herself it had only been a bad dream, except for the gash on her foot that was still aching.
She looked over at Carson in the passenger seat and allowed herself to really take in his presence for the first time, now that they were alone together.
His wavy brown hair had grown since she’d last seen him, brushing his collar, and he now sported a five o’clock shadow that hadn’t been there in Vegas. He was tall and substantial with his wiry, athletic physique and his broad, rock-hard shoulders.
He wore a black turtleneck, black leather jacket, and a pair of faded jeans that fit him so well they would have driven her to distraction at any other time. A pair of black Doc Marten’s completed his look, which was the sort of carefully planned casualness that said he cared about his appearance but didn’t want to look as though he was trying too hard.
“So do I get the scoop now?”
“I need to make a phone call or two, and then I’ll explain everything as best I can.”
In truth, she needed more time to decide how much information she could risk giving him.
He studied her. “Sex makes us dumb, eh?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I wasn’t experimenting on you in Vegas. I promise.”
“That’s reassuring to know, I guess. But it doesn’t explain why you’ve gone to such lengths to avoid me.”
Lauren shrugged. “I just wanted a weekend fling. I though you did, too.”
“Am I allowed to change my mind?” he asked with a cocky little half smile.
“Is that the real reason you came to my apartment? To interrogate me about why I’m not really a flight attendant named Lauren Smith?”
“I came to visit because I wanted a real explanation. Well, that and a chance to see you again.”
Then this was his unlucky day. “You’ll probably wish we’d never met by the time I explain everything.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I’ll be right back. Just let me make these calls.” She fished some quarters out of Macy’s storage compartment and exited the car.
Outside, in the cold night air, she felt exposed and vulnerable. With shaking hands she inserted some quarters and called her mother.
Now her hands shook? Not a half hour ago when she was fighting for her life, but now that she had to face the wrath of her mother…
The phone rang five times before someone picked up. “Parish residence,” the maid answered.
“It’s Lauren. I need to speak with my mother right now.”
“I believe she’s retired for the evening.”
“Wake her up. It’s an emergency.”
“One moment please.”
Lauren scanned the area, but no one looked suspicious. The patrons of the nearby restaurant were absorbed in their own lives, paying no attention to her. She glanced toward the car and caught Carson’s eye. His expression inscrutable, he watched her as she watched him, and she got the feeling he wasn’t nearly as calm as he looked. She couldn’t blame him.
A moment later her mother’s voice came on the line. She had a remarkable ability to never sound as though she’d just woken up. “What is it, Lauren? Bette said it was urgent.”
Lauren took a deep breath. “The Order found me. I’m not sure how, but I think it must have had something to do with my TV appearance.”
Silence, and then, “How did you get away? Where are you now?”
“That’s not important. I need to figure out how exactly they found me.”
“I hope you understand now why we should shun the spotlight—”
“This isn’t the time for lectures. Of course I understand.”
“You know, you bear a remarkable resemblance to your great-grandmother, who was, of course, killed by The Order. Maybe that’s how they recognized you.”
“But that was over a hundred years ago.”
“They don’t forget. And I’m sure they keep photos of all known witches on file for occasions like this.”
The truth sank in, and Lauren felt her dinner churning in her stomach, threatening to rise up into her throat. She steadied herself against the pay phone, pressed her forehead to the cool metal surface of its frame.
Her stupid moment in the spotlight would lead to her own doom. Now that she’d been ID’d by witch hunters, she’d spend the rest of her goddamn life on the run, fearing death at the hands of The Order, never safe.
“Lauren? Are you there?”
She wasn’t sure if she’d missed anything her mother had said. Only now she realized her ears had been filled with a hissing sound that was subsiding as she gained control of herself again.
“I’m here. I didn’t realize…I mean, I forgot about my great-grandmother.”
“Well, you’ve made quite a mess of things, haven’t you?”
“I’m going to disappear for a while.”
“Yes, I imagine so. You’ll need to enlist Sebastian’s help.”
“I’m not sure he will. There’s a mortal involved, and I have to protect him, too.”
Again, silence filled the line, and then her mother expelled an exasperated sigh.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been consorting with—”
“I’m not going to talk about this right now. I have to go. I just wanted you to know what’s happening, why I’ve disappeared,” Lauren blurted, filling the line with words. “I love you, Mom. Bye.”
She hung up the phone, knowing she was risking her mother’s considerable wrath by doing so. But getting to Sebastian for help was more important than her mot
her’s temper tantrum. He’d been her closest childhood friend, and maybe based on that old allegiance, he might consider helping a mortal, too.
Or not.
Lauren stared at the receiver resting in its cradle as she tried to remember Sebastian’s number, which she’d been forbidden to write down. It had been over a year since she’d seen him, many months since they’d spoken on the phone.
Slowly, the numbers came to her. She inserted more coins, then dialed and waited. After a few rings voice mail picked up. His recording sounded in his unmistakably laid-back style. She’d never once seen him get flustered, shaken or perturbed.
He was the epitome of cool, unlike her right now.
“Hi, it’s me…” She hesitated, then decided not to say her name as she realized leaving any specific details might be too dangerous. With luck Sebastian would recognize her voice. “I’m coming for a visit, and I’ll be there before morning. Don’t call my cell phone, though—it’s not safe. I’ll find you when I get there.”
So she had no choice but to go to Sebastian’s club in West Hollywood and hope like hell he wouldn’t send her and Carson away. Because if he did, she had nowhere else to turn.
She hung up the phone and wondered belatedly if it had been a mistake to leave a message at all. Her paranoia was growing by the second.
She glanced around again, but there were no shadowy figures lurking about, no one staring in her direction. Well, except Carson.
How to tell him? And what to tell him?
As a child, she’d occasionally imagined revealing the truth about herself and her family to a mortal. She’d imagined their reaction, their awe at the powers she possessed, and she’d gotten a thrill from it. But that was before she’d been old enough to fully understand the inherent dangers of the truth.
Lauren hurried back to the passenger door since Carson had switched to the driver’s seat and got in. He studied her.
“Well?” he said.
She had no idea how to tell him. She took a deep breath and said, “What I have to say you probably won’t believe. But it’s really important that you believe it anyway.”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, as if doing so was a response in itself.
“Okay, so what is it?” he finally asked.
“Another thing—I need to know that you’re trustworthy. If I tell you this thing, it’s a secret you’ll have to keep your whole life. You can’t ever tell anyone. If you do, lots of people could die, including you.”
His expression was growing more alarmed by the second. “You can trust me.”
Based on Macy’s and Griffin’s adoration of Carson, she was almost sure she could take his word for that.
“Just so you know, I don’t have any choice but to trust you. And you don’t have any choice but to keep this secret. Since you might have been spotted in my apartment, the people who are after me are going to want to kill you, too.”
He looked outraged. “Who’s trying to kill you? What kind of trouble are you in? Lauren, please tell me what the hell’s going on.”
“Just slow down. It’s going to take a while to explain everything.”
He expelled a ragged breath. “I’ve got all night.”
The words had never crossed her lips before, and saying them aloud was an act so foreign, she almost couldn’t do it. She looked Carson in the eyes, swallowed her fear, and said it.
“I’m a witch.”
CARSON HAD OFFICIALLY heard it all now, and he would have laughed except Lauren looked dead serious.
A witch? “Is that a PC way of saying bitch, or do you mean you’re like one of those goth people who goes around trying to cast spells and stuff.”
“Neither,” she said.
And he listened as she explained. As she talked, he drove south toward the highway, and before she’d finished explaining, they were passing through San Jose.
Carson half believed her and half suspected she was suffering from an undiagnosed case of schizophrenia. He asked questions here and there, but mostly he listened in amazement to her elaborate tale of ancient witch clans and secret orders of witch hunters and genetic differences between witches and humans, and how she didn’t cast spells but she did have some kind of supernatural power.
By the time she was done, they were several hours south of San Francisco, well on their way toward the underground safe house Lauren claimed they were headed to in West Hollywood, and Carson’s head was spinning.
“I know this all sounds crazy, and you probably don’t believe me,” she said. “But I appreciate your trying to understand.”
“I admit I’m a little suspicious about your sanity,” he said.
“Do you remember how awful you felt after you left Las Vegas? Probably like you were coming down off a high and going through withdrawal symptoms?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“That’s what happens to mortals who have sex with witches. You get addicted. That’s why you couldn’t leave me alone and couldn’t stop thinking about trying to get in touch with me again.”
“Addicted?”
Lauren nodded. “Not to brag, but mortals tend to find sex with a witch by far the best sex of their lives, and the chemicals released during orgasm are so intense they create an addiction.”
That certainly explained a lot.
“So, let’s say I tentatively believe you. How long will I have to stay at this place in L.A.?”
Lauren stared at him, looking grim. “I don’t know,” she said. “It depends on what my cousin says when we get there. He’s the expert on evading the witch hunters.”
“Is it okay if I use my cell phone now to leave a message at work that I won’t be in for a while?”
“Yes,” she said. “Go ahead. Just say you’ve had a family emergency. But don’t leave any information about where you are or where you’re going.”
Carson did as instructed. There was a big meeting he’d miss tomorrow, and someone would have to fill in for him there. Not to mention the rest of his jam-packed schedule for the week. But as he explained the situation to his boss’s voice mail box, he felt a sense of excitement filling his chest.
Why the hell would he care about missing some boring-ass meetings with ad agency clients when he could be running off to L.A. with the woman of his fantasies?
And, he realized, he actually wanted to believe Lauren’s story. It had everything his life was lacking—danger, intrigue, mind-blowing sex….
Carson had always felt like a trapped animal in his buttoned-up workaday life, and now, for the first time he could remember, he was feeling as though someone had finally opened up the cage and set him free.
4
SOMEWHERE ALONG I-5, they stopped at a rest area and traded seats so that Lauren could drive. Carson finally must have given in to exhaustion and fallen asleep, he realized as he woke up at a stop light. He’d asked for Lauren to let him drive again whenever she got tired herself, but she insisted she was so hyped up on adrenaline there was no way she could sleep, and she wanted him to rest if he could.
“Where are we?” he asked as he stretched and yawned.
Outside, it was still dark.
“We’re almost there,” she said. “My cousin operates a network of safe houses for witches in trouble, and his center of operation is on the edge of West Hollywood. He runs a nightclub located in the lobby of a hotel. Hopefully he’ll have room for us at the hotel.”
Lauren turned into a parking garage, parked the car then turned to him. “My cousin Sebastian may be hostile toward you. Just stay calm and take my lead, okay?”
“Should I be packing a weapon or something?”
“No, but try not to let him get to you. He’s like my brother, and aside from the fact that he dislikes mortals, he won’t be thrilled with the relationship I’ve had with you.”
“I promise I’ll stay cool,” he said.
They got out of the car and took an elevator up to a darkened nightclub that was still busy even a
t what must have been past the legal closing time.
Carson followed Lauren along a dim corridor lit by eerie red lights. They passed one person after another who stared at him as if he were the most unwelcome person they’d ever encountered. He was beginning to get a complex.
“Friendly bunch,” he muttered to himself, but Lauren overheard.
“They consider this a mortal-free zone. They can sense you’re not one of us.”
“Should I get a pointy black hat and a broom?”
Lauren ignored his bad joke and led him into an open area in the noisy nightclub, where the deafening bass of house music set the beat for the pulsing crowd of bodies on a large dance floor. Carson took in the industrial-goes-Goth decor, and the great mass of people, and he wanted to get the hell out. Instead, he continued to follow Lauren as she wound through the throng toward the bar that sat on one side of the club.
The bar was full, but she whispered something into the ear of a man sitting at the end, and he grabbed the hand of the woman next to him and they vacated their seats without looking back.
Weird. Had she cast some kind of spell on them? No, she’d said real witches didn’t do that kind of stuff.
They sat and the bartender spotted them immediately. A smile transformed his face when he recognized Lauren, but a moment later when his gaze settled on Carson, his expression turned to cold suspicion.
Lauren leaned over and said to Carson, “That’s my cousin. Just let me handle him.”
Carson didn’t have time to respond before the man rounded the corner of the bar and swept Lauren up into a hug. When they parted, he said, “Cousin, it’s been too long.”
“Yes,” she said. “It has.” Then she turned her gaze to Carson. “Sebastian, this is my friend Carson. I’m sorry to be blunt. Did you get my voice mail message saying I was coming for a visit?”
“Come to my office,” he said, and they were up again and following him beyond the bar, through a door marked Employees Only and down another long dark corridor, its walls painted black, until they reached an unmarked door. Sebastian let them in.
The office was spare and dimly lit, equipped with a desk, a couple of visitors’ chairs, a couch and a black wall unit with sleek black doors that Carson imagined hid some interesting secrets.
Call Me Wicked Page 3
