"I am aware of the services you provide, Ms. Storm." His nostrils flared as if he smelled something bad. "You cater to both our community and the human one." The slight emphasis on the last two words said it all.
The HC-community consider themselves superior to humans. Since most of them can kill a mortal with relative ease, I understood to an extent.
However, that bit of prejudice had plagued me most of my life.
"Yes, I do." I hadn't planned on my words sounding quite so confrontational. Ivan shifted slightly, his scabbard rustled over the chair cushion.
I got the hint. The little boost to my powers added a nice illusion of strength and confidence, but it didn't change the facts of my reality. Or who had the giant sword.
"Prince Xavier wanted a human match for his bride. He was most specific about that." I unlaced my hands and folded them on top of each other. "He told me that he planned to use his wedding as the start to his campaign."
"Campaign?"
The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. It crossed my mind that the prince was actually better off dead than facing this man.
"That's what he called it."
"And what exactly did his campaign entail?"
"I don't know." Ivan leaned forward and I hurried to continue. "He didn't tell me the details and I didn't ask. All I know is that he wanted to use his wedding as a way of coming out to the humans."
Ivan steepled his fingers together and rested them under his chin. His burning red eyes considered me.
The tea helped stifle my urge to squirm and I waited as patiently as I could.
"He did not say whether he planned to out just the vampires or all of the Supernaturals?"
I shook my head. I'd already given him my answer.
"And you did not consider calling the Queen to discuss this matter with her?"
"I'm not stupid Mr. Romanov." His arched brow questioned that. I ignored it. "I have no desire to lose my business - or my head – by relaying bad news to a very powerful vampire."
"You feel no loyalty to our community?"
I grit my teeth. "As much loyalty to it as I receive in return." I regretted my words immediately. I'd just made a critical mistake and I knew it.
His eyes narrowed and a look that I can only describe as sheer disgust flashed briefly over his face. A long silence descended.
"What time did your interview end?"
"Around midnight."
"Did you set up another appointment with the Prince?"
I smoothed a piece of paper on top of my desk. "No. I told him that I would contact him when I had located a suitable match."
"Did you see the Prince leave?"
"Yes. He got into a silver Jag and drove off down the street." Ivan opened his mouth and I quickly added, "He headed North."
"Did he tell you where he planned to go after your appointment?"
"No."
"Have you seen or heard from him since he left here?"
I re-laced my hands. "No." My heart beat normally. My pulse stayed even.
Ivan leaned back in his chair.
I decided that asking a question or two of my own would go a long way towards backing up my façade of innocence. "You said the Prince has gone missing?" I added a small frown of concern.
"Yes." Ivan drummed his fingers once on the arm of the chair. "He has not checked in, nor has he been seen or heard from since the night before last." He paused significantly. "After his appointment with you."
"He was totally fine when he left our appointment." Which was true.
Silence reigned again. Al barked and whined.
I held my ground and didn't volunteer any more information. I had a feeling I'd reached the end of my limited lying capabilities.
The crumpled body. The long, thick branch inserted through the chest. The blood glistening on the leaves as they danced on the wind.
I coughed into my fist. Definitely done lying.
Ivan stood abruptly. His body had been relaxed and seated then standing upright within the blink of an eye. I tensed.
He stepped forward, reached into his pocket and . . . tucked a small card in between my hands. "If the Prince contacts you, please use the number on that card to call me." He stood there for a moment, looming over me, his red eyes boring a hole into my mind as if he could read my guilt.
"Do you have any plans to leave town?"
"No." I slowly shook my head. Why did he care?
"Excellent." He smiled. His fangs gleamed brightly. "You are the last person to have seen the Prince alive. I'll be in touch."
He shut the door gently behind him. A moment later the outer bell tinkled. Al barked ferociously. I didn't move.
I considered placing a call to Morgan or my Aunt and immediately discarded the idea. Morgan was involved enough and I didn't want either of them involved in any way what-so-ever with Ivan.
Finally I got up, locked the front door and opened the other office door to let Al out. He ran around me in circles, checking to make certain I was okay. Then he sniffed the air and growled before jumping up on his back legs, demanding that I pick him up.
I collapsed into a graceless huddle on the floor, dragging his tiny body into my chest and hugging him close. I tried to put the recent events into perspective. On the one hand I was still alive.
On the other I'd managed to confirm that I was the NUMBER ONE suspect on the list of the most dangerous creature I had ever encountered.
And to top it off, I'd informed him that I was as loyal to the immortal community as it had always been to me.
Not at all.
11. My Big Aha Moment Or Oh Shit.
The phone rang. Again. I ignored it. Again. I'd texted Aunt Tabitha when I got up instead of my usual phone call to check in and let her know that I was okay. She needed it confirmed verbally. I wasn't ready for that.
I had completely maxed out my lying quotient for the next decade.
After my meeting with Ivan the night before, I'd added several herbs to my tea this morning and I had my Book of Spells in front of me. I simply needed a bit more time – and a little magic – and I'd be able to handle . . . at least a phone call with my Aunt.
I took another quick gulp of my tea. A cup of coffee in addition wouldn't hurt either.
I'd been going over my Book of Spells for over an hour and I still could not find a How to Lie Really Well spell. The best that I'd come up with were some healing and/or a few shielding possibilities.
Hence the added herbs and tea again.
I had this uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that this would all be a hell of a lot easier if I had not dropped out of the Wiccan Academy at fifteen.
Mom and Aunt Tabitha had told me over and over again that I would regret it. They pointed out that it was just a few more years. Couldn't I survive the taunts and exclusion just a little longer?
My fifteen-year-old mind couldn't conceive of a time when I would ever fit in, much less a time when I would have to survive on my magic.
Oh, to be able to go back and chat with that witch.
Right now I was just thankful that I had kept my textbook all these years.
I ran my finger over the Gemstone Shielding spell once more. It wasn't exactly intended for what I planned to use it for, but then again that's the magic of magic.
And I was desperate.
I'd gone to bed with a horrible thought and it had stayed with me all through the night. No delicious dreams of demons for me. I'd had visions of blood, torture, screams and tiny furry bodies being ripped into pieces.
I'd woken with the same horrible thought.
I was going to have to find out who killed the Prince.
I didn't like the idea. It sent a case of the serious willies down my spine. I would prefer another option. Any other option. However, I was now officially SUSPECT NUMBER ONE. If I wanted to continue building my business, and more importantly, stay alive, then it was up to me to find the murderer.
Ivan had made it
fairly clear last night that I was the only person in his sights. I wanted to be well removed from his field of vision.
Forever.
This evening, after I bolstered myself with spells and charms, I planned to call Morgan. I'd use her inside knowledge of vampires to find out all I could about the Prince.
That was it. The sum and totality of my entire plan to find a killer, stay alive, keep my business and eventually find a match for Barbie.
I know. I know. I could see all the holes in it too, but every good witch detective has to start somewhere. And I preferred to start and end alive.
Tiny claws scratched the floor behind me.
"Mornin' Doll."
I quickly closed my spell book and swiveled to greet him.
"Good morning, Al." I pulled him onto my lap. He licked my lips. I smooched his head. "How did you sleep?"
I checked the clock as I stood and headed towards the front door. Just after eleven. I hoped my restless night hadn't bothered him. It had taken me quite a while last night to get him calmed down as a Chihuahua. I didn't want to start up again with the hit man this morning.
"Good." He yawned.
I left my door open, tightened my grip on his warm body and went down the stairs. I set him down outside then turned away as he headed over to the large willow that straddled my front yard and that of the neighbor to the right.
Neither one of us said a word as he took care of business.
These were the moments we both ignored in our relationship. He might be a tiny Chihuahua, but he had the heart - and frequently the mind - of a large, cold-hearted killer.
The least I could do was look away when he peed and pooped on my front lawn.
A few minutes later, he nudged my ankle. I picked him back up and we went upstairs. He yawned several times. Big Al is not a morning dog.
"Whatcha workin' on?"
I turned from filling his bowl with a splash of coffee, to find him standing on the table, with his head tilted as he checked out my Book of Spells. I didn't know if he could read.
Thank the Spirits I had closed it. I couldn't imagine the mischief he would cause if he decided to try a spell. The Love Spells were located near the Protection Spells and I knew he'd jump all over that in a heartbeat.
The very last thing I needed right now would be to find myself in love with my Chihuahua.
I set his bowl on the table and moved my spell book out of the way. Al took several laps at his black coffee. I eyed his furry little head for a minute.
"I'll be right back." I took the book and headed into my office. On the third row from the bottom of my bookshelf I had a large false book cover, "Ancient Hieroglyphics." I set my book of magic inside.
Al was just finishing his coffee when I walked back in. I never gave him much. He weighs five pounds. But I can't start my mornings without at least one shot of caffeine either.
His eyes were much more alert and I was glad that I'd removed the book before he woke up fully. It was bad enough that he now knew I had it.
"You workin' on a new spell or somethin'?" He glanced down the hall from where I'd just come. He might be a very small dog, however the speculative glint in his eyes was quite alarming.
I made a mental note to make a scentless spell in the front room before I left. Perhaps even move the book up a few shelves, although I didn't think he could actually reach the third one.
"Or something," I agreed. I sat down in the chair so we were closer to eye level. "I'm in a bit of a bind."
His lip curled and a low growl rumbled up through his chest. "Tell me who it is and I'll take care of it."
There was no way I planned to tell him the whole truth. Al has no fear and Ivan no pity. Still I had to give him a heads up.
"Actually it involves the Vampire Prince."
Al sat back on his haunches. "I thought he was dead? How is he botherin' ya?"
"He's not." I tried to figure out the best way to explain. "However, I am the last person to have seen him alive. And he was a Prince." Al's ears twitched. "Someone came looking for answers last night."
The deep growl came back.
"It's fine." I said in a rush. My supplemental herbs were working already. "No one tried to hurt me." Yet. "But I don't think he is looking at anyone else for the reason behind the missing prince. So I'm going to do a little detective work."
Al's little mouth dropped open. He snapped his jaw shut and just eyed me for a minute. "You gonna find out who killed the Prince, Doll?"
Even my Chihuahua was skeptical of my plan.
I snatched up his empty bowl and stalked over to rinse it out in the sink. "Yes, I am." I turned and glared at him, arms braced behind me.
He cocked his head. Our stare down lasted maybe two minutes. "Okay." He raised his little shoulder. "I can shadow you. Make sure ya don't get hurt while you ask your questions."
If he stayed somewhere in the background, he would be out of the line of fire. I was okay with that.
"You got your stakes on ya?" I turned so he could see the knife harness and the three stakes I had strapped to my back.
“Good."
I waited for a follow up to his grunt, but he jumped down onto the chair then to the floor and wandered over to his food dish. I microwaved a leftover meatball, cut it up and he settled down to eat breakfast.
Hmmm. Maybe it was time to call my Aunt.
The phone rang on cue.
"Hi, Aunt Tabitha."
12. The Thing About Suspects . . .
I struggled to zip up the tight leather bustier. Leather is obviously made to be worn by size zeros. I was at least ten sizes too big for it.
I know, I know. I've mentioned on "some days". What I really should have said was on a really good day.
This was not a good day.
I yanked at the zipper, cursing Morgan under my breath the whole time. Oh, what the hell.
"Shit!"
"Doll? You okay?"
My fingers cramped. I let go of the torture device and smoothed my hand down the matching red leather pants, easing out the tension. I'd managed to stuff my ass into one half of the stupid outfit. You'd think I'd be able to handle the upper portion.
I honestly didn't think I'd be able to breathe, much less question suspects, if I zipped the bustier all the way up.
"Doll?"
"I'm fine Al." My voice came out higher pitched than normal and slightly breathy. "I'll be out in a minute." I waited until the patter of his tiny claws disappeared.
"Shit." I whispered it this time.
Taking shallow breaths, I turned towards my mirror. If this was as bad as it felt . . . I'd have to give some serious reconsideration to my plan.
My jaw dropped.
No wonder Morgan wore leather all the time. It looked freaking amazing. Even on my much bigger body.
The shiny, supple material smoothed out all of my bumps and held them together in a way that added a lush voluptuousness to my curves. The bustier shoved my breasts front and center, while the dark red color contrasted oh-so-nicely with my pale skin.
I cackled softly. If the suspects we were going to question tonight were men – human or otherwise – I'd have all the answers I needed.
Now, all I had to do was maneuver the zipper up another two inches, take small sips of air and avoid chairs. I might look amazing right now, but that image would suffer if I ripped a seam while maneuvering onto a seat.
I flexed my fingers a couple more times, propped my left hand under my right elbow for added help and grabbed the small metal tab. Tugging with both arms, the zipper slid slowly upwards. The leather squeaked in protest. I stopped.
I peered cautiously over my shoulder in the mirror.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
A small two-inch vee – give or take an inch – outlined the middle of my back. To the casual observer it probably looked deliberate. A sexy flaunt.
I shifted from side to side, leaned forward and back. The sexy flaunt held. Whoopee.
I
grabbed the matching belt and buckled it around my waist. Thank the Spirits we were going to an S&M biker's bar. No one there would question the accessories dangling from my hips - a matching bullwhip, three small silver knives, two wooden stakes and a small pouch that held my ID, credit card and lipstick.
Luckily I'd put on the three-inch lace-up boots before I'd done up the pants.
I twisted a small section of my curls into a loose knot near my temple and slid another miniature stake, topped with a blood red flower, into the mass to hold it.
Perfect.
Leather, sex, and a backup piece. What more could a girl ask for?
****
I'd kill for a stool. After the near fiasco of getting in and out of my Mini Cooper, I knew I wouldn't be able to sit without major adjustments. And a possible ticket for indecent exposure. A bar stool with long legs and an easily accessible seat cushion with no bending involved, I could manage.
Unfortunately, all the stools were up at the bar and we were in a dark corner in the back, about as far away from relief for my aching feet as we could get.
Morgan swore this was where we needed to be. I swore right back.
"Damn it, are you sure that's the guy? They all look the same."
Morgan smirked. "I thought I was supposed to be the one saying "all mortals looks alike"?"
"It's dark, smoky and about the only difference I can see are the sizes of the outfits." I was getting an entirely different view of my UDBF.
I don't know when or how often she came here, but Morgan obviously knew the bar quite well. Another guy wearing a spiked dog collar paused in front of us.
"May I serve you, Mistress?" He didn't look her in the eye, nor did he crack a hint of a smile.
"Not tonight Tommy."
His shoulders slumped. He pressed his wrists together in between the cutouts in his leather vest. Both of his nipples were pierced with rather sturdy looking hoops.
I did not want to know how those were used.
"Are you certain, Mistress?"
"No, Tommy." Morgan's answer cracked over his body like a physical whip. He actually shuddered.
I turned to glare at her. Morgan could be cold, but I'd never seen her be so rude. She winked at me.
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