I was quickly sliding past depressed and straight into the Depths Of Despair.
****
I closed the lid on the Styrofoam container. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, but the usually enticing scent of the manicotti did nothing except turn my stomach. On any other evening, Al would be sitting across from me, chewing on a meatball and making a pass.
Aunt Tabitha had assured me he was fine. Quiet, but fine. I hadn't worked up the courage to go home and face those watery eyes.
My ostrich routine was out in full force.
Part of me said, "He's just a dog, a very small one at that," the rest of me said, "You've just hurt one of the few people who really cares for you."
When Big Al was in control, I did not see him as a dog. We talked about a wide variety of things. He's my constant companion and I'd just brutally crushed him.
My head flopped to my desk.
The front door bell tinkled. Damn it. I thought I'd locked that. It was after seven, so the rest of the block had already closed for the day.
Morgan and I had plans to continue my investigation in another couple hours, as soon as the sun set. We were bypassing the bars tonight in favor of an organic coffee shop.
The Prince had eclectic tastes to say the least.
In addition to bondage, some spanking and big Harley's, he apparently enjoyed a quality cup of java and was religious about recycling.
It put a new twist on the manner of his death and the term tree hugger. He hadn't exactly hugged that particular branch, but his insides sure had.
Despite Tommy's possible confession and Terry's intent on revenge, this new information had me thinking we might come across the true killer tonight. I didn't know what would motivate an environmentally conscious, coffee-drinking individual to murder someone, but the tree branch certainly seemed symbolic.
Of course the branch could have just been convenient, something Tommy or Terry found close at hand when he saw the prince. Or any of the other suspects from the bars could have found it nearby as well.
This Witch Detective business was not an easy one.
I got to my feet slowly, my worries pressed down on my shoulders like a steel encased boulder. All those worries disappeared as soon as I saw who had invaded my reception area.
My lungs tightened and a cold sweat broke out over my skin.
Familiarity does not breed relaxation of any type with Ivan Romanov, in fact he managed to appear more sinister and evil now, than he had when I first met him, although I'd swear he wore the exact same outfit, right down to that big-ass sword.
Berating myself over not locking the door was a mute point. If Ivan wanted in, he'd get in.
I was abruptly very thankful that Al and I had our fight. I didn't want him anywhere around Ivan.
Unfortunately, that left me completely alone.
I stood stiffly in the doorway of my office, calculating escape routes. Ivan stood between me and the front door, which meant the window at the back of the HC office was my only alternative.
I could throw myself through the window if needed. It really wouldn't make much difference. If he had decided that I was guilty and had come to kill me there wasn't much I could do about it.
My magic couldn't save me against his speed and strength.
And my stakes and harness were on the floor in my office.
I wet my lips. "Mr. Romanov, I wasn't expecting to see you again." Not so soon, at any rate.
He quirked an eyebrow at that, "Ms. Storm."
"Have you found the prince?" My cleverness astounded me. My nerves jumbled about in such a chaotic dance, I couldn't tell if it came from an overdose of the herbs or sheer desperation.
"No."
Of course he hadn't. I was still alive.
"Any clues as to where he might be?" My jaw started to hurt with the wideness of my smile.
"No." He paused significantly. "No one has seen him since he left your office, Ms. Storm."
Like I needed that reminder.
"Well, is there something that I can help you with?" I am fairly certain I intended that to come out cheerful and helpful. It had more of the gauntlet effect.
"I believe there is. You see I keep coming back to the fact that you are the very last person to have seen the prince alive." Ivan didn't bother to hide his fangs.
"The last person to have admitted it you mean." I was not the killer, just the poor schmuck to have found the body. And bury it. In the forest. Where, hopefully, no one would ever find it.
Ivan smiled, displaying both large fangs to their fullest extent. Probably to intimidate me.
It worked.
"I haven't heard anything from the prince." Why would I? I'm a witch, not a ghost whisperer. "I'll be sure to call you if I do." Yeah, like that would happen.
As far as I could tell, as long as I stuck to my guns, Ivan could not pin the murder on me. He had the same problem that I did. No actual proof.
Morgan wouldn't double-cross me. Aside from being UDBFs, we were partners in our body disposal side job. Which left my Aunt. She wouldn't betray me anymore than Morgan would, but I'd told a completely different set of lies to Aunt Tabs, if Ivan spoke with her, I'd be caught better than any gasping, desperately wiggling fish on a hook.
I'd slipped an amulet into my Aunt's purse before she left that morning. In addition to the protection spell, I'd added a sort of . . . vampire alarm. If Ivan contacted Aunt Tabitha in any manner, I would know.
And Ivan had no knowledge of Al, other than as my Chihuahua.
"You see that is where I have a problem." He settled back. One shoulder propped against the wall, arms causally crossed over his chest, his long coat opened just enough to reveal a few of the Chinese throwing stars.
Bastard. I had to hand it to him. He had intimidation down better than anyone I'd ever met in my twenty-five years.
"What problem?"
"I doubt very much that you would call me." He cocked his head slightly, enough to reveal the hilt of his sword. The ceiling light reflected off the gleaming steel. "You don't have any loyalty to the supernaturals at all, do you?"
17. All My Issues Dancing On My Head.
The son of a bitch.
"Why do you say that?" I leaned against the doorframe. Two could play at this game.
"Your comments from the other evening." He waved his hand negligently around as if it didn't matter to him. I'm quite sure it didn't. He was an immortal vampire. He'd lived his entire life secure in that knowledge.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I lied. No amount of herbs would help me now. My heart picked up its pace. He planned to throw my mortality in my face. I'd played different versions of this game since the day I'd been born.
He smiled, ran his tongue over his fangs. "You're a mortal witch." I took the direct jab square on my chin. It was the truth after all. "Your immediate coven is mortal."
"Yes we are." I tilted my chin out slightly as if daring him to hit me again. I should have known better.
"Half breeds."
His words hung in the air. Sneered at me, prodded at wounds that never healed. I'd taken two steps forward, hands fisted at my side before I caught myself.
"I am not a mongrel." I hissed through clenched teeth.
He flicked his gaze up and down my body. His lip curled slightly. "Half supernatural. Half Human." He didn't bother to hide the sheer disgust in his voice.
Human trash. Who let you into our school?
"You serve us as well as the humans because you can't fit into one world." He gestured at my two offices. "No one in the supernatural community would accept you as anything other than a pet. You're weak. A mortal. Pathetic." He spit the words at me. "And the humans would shun you completely if they knew about your powers."
"You must have hated the prince. Sitting across from him. Talking to him. Knowing you couldn't begin to be his equal. No wonder you hate us. We are your betters and you will never be one of us." He flicked his tongue over his fang. "A total disg
race. You and your coven shouldn't have been allowed to survive."
He blurred in one of those super fast vampire moves to stand before me, just inches away as he leaned down. "I'll find my proof and then I'll kill you." Warm copper misted over my face with his words. "I'll be doing a service to the community."
The supernatural community. The one I would never be a part of.
Somehow the fact that I was his only suspect didn't seem to matter that much right now. Part of me knew I should be very worried, the rest of me just didn't care.
I don't know how long I stood there after he left. I was afraid to move. I locked my muscles down on the pain screaming its way through my body. If I moved, it might break free, and if it did I would shatter into thousands of tiny pieces.
Tiny pieces that didn't belong anywhere.
****
"Chicky?"
I didn't answer. I'd ignored her calls as well. I'd lit several brown sugar candles throughout my office. As if that would somehow erase any lingering trace of him. The aroma wasn't even working to comfort me as it usually did.
I sat at my desk. My mother's desk. I ran my hand over the wood. It needed to be refurbished.
"Hey." Morgan walked into my office. She plopped down into one of the wing chairs. "What's going on? You aren't answering your phone." She drummed her fingers over the arm. "We're supposed to go question more suspects tonight, remember? Life, death, witch detective stuff that . . ." She broke off. "Kate?"
"I should refinish this desk." I traced a long scratch with my finger. "It's old. Gives the clients a bad impression."
"Kate?"
"I know it's my mother's, but it wouldn't hurt to fix it up right? Remove the old crap and polish on some new stuff." My fingers wandered aimlessly over the surface. "It's not like she's going to come back and complain. Is she?"
Morgan's cold hand gripped my fingers. "Stop it, Kate." She squeezed until the pain registered.
"Ow! Damn it, Morgan, let go." I frowned at her. "I know you're strong. You don't have to break my fucking fingers."
Morgan dropped my hand. "Wow. Someone pushed all of your buttons, didn't they? I can't smell anyone." She waved her hand through the scented air and hooked her hip over the edge of my desk. "Should I try the guessing game or do you want to just spill?"
I needed time to shove that boiling cauldron of my inner emotionally wrecked self back down. I sat back in my chair and glared at her. Who did she think she was, coming into my office and nosing her way into my business?
"I don't know what you're talking about." I folded my arms over my chest.
"Oh goody, we get to play the guessing game." She narrowed her eyes, slices of emerald perfectly framed under her red brows. "Your pulse is too slow for the demon to have been here." She held up one long white finger. "Your Aunt told me about the fight with Big Al, but you aren't stewing." She held up another finger. "Which leaves the scary vampire assassin."
Morgan considered her fingers then arched her brow at me, "Unless you've run across more trouble while I slept?"
I firmed my lips. Why the hell couldn't she just leave me alone?
"The vampire assassin it is then. Three points for me." She smiled widely. "I just love to win."
A game? I'd been stabbed in the chest so many times I didn't know why my insides were not displayed on top of my desk and Morgan thought this was some sort of fucking game?
"So glad to hear it. It's probably easy for you since I'm mortal." Bitterness crept into every word. "You've got super senses to see and hear everything."
"Yes I do." She tossed her hair, the red tresses rustled over the black leather of her bodice. "I love being a vampire."
"I know you do. Why wouldn't you? No one gets to hurt you." I shoved my chair back and stood. My lungs burned as if the air in the room had disappeared. I needed to get outside.
"You can, Kate." The soft words stopped me dead in my tracks. My legs shook. I grabbed onto the edge of the door.
What the hell was I doing?
She didn't deserve this. I knew it. I'd lashed out - a wounded animal, blinded by my own pain.
"He called me a half breed. Said I shouldn't be allowed to exist." The words fell from my lips before I could stop them. I gripped the door tighter. The edge cut into my fingers.
"Son-of-a-mother-fucking-werewolf!" Her heels clattered as they hit the floor. "That fangless-ghoul-pimpled-racist! He fucking said that?"
A sliver cracked in the ice that surrounded me. I drew in a shallow breath and nodded.
"Let's go drain the fucker."
I laughed. It wasn't much of one, more like the last cackle of a skewered hag, it felt like one too, but it broke off large chunks of my iceberg.
I let go of the door and turned around. Morgan had her hands clenched together as if she was already imagining them around Ivan's neck.
Thank the Spirits for UDBFs. I don't know where I'd be without mine.
"It's not anything I haven't heard before." I couldn't shrug it off so I tried for aloof.
I didn't fool either one of us.
"Maybe not." Morgan acknowledged. "But it doesn't mean you have to take it."
"He's got that really big sword." I reminded her.
Morgan had asked for every detail of my first encounter with Ivan. "True." She nodded. "But you've got me. And Aunt Tabitha. And Big Al."
I took a step away from the door. My legs quit trembling. The room filled with air again.
"Hell, the demon would probably join in too." She wiggled her brows suggestively.
This cackle came out more like a mortal witch facing a dozen sharp objects rather than being driven straight through with them. A witch with friends who didn't care if she straddled two worlds or not. A witch like me.
"He probably would." I smiled, my lips wobbled a little. "Did you know that he is a demon lord?"
Morgan lifted one pale shoulder so gracefully to classify it as a shrug would upgrade shrugs everywhere to a form of ballet. "I suspected he might be. How did you find out?"
"I asked Aunt Tabitha."
It was rare to catch Morgan off-guard. It helped to settle me that much more. "Aunt Tabitha knows something about demon lords?"
"Apparently she knows a bit more than something." I grinned.
"No." Morgan shook her head. Her bright sunset curls caressed her shoulders with each twist of her head. "Aunt Tabitha is so nice and demons are just . . . not." She tapped one long crimson nail against her lower lip glossed in fire engine red. Blood on blood. A good look for her. "Where would she have met a demon lord? What was his name?"
I breathed in deeply. My lungs functioned once more. My skin warmed. "It was back in the day and she never quite got his name." I pressed my lips together to hold in the urge to giggle. "I guess Aunt Tabs used to be quite the little witch."
Morgan's eyes widen a little before she started to chuckle. It trickled out in low, husky notes, foreplay in laughter. "I never would have guessed. How did she know he was a demon lord?"
I shrugged, rather graceless and jerky. "The arm tattoo marks them as a lord. It symbolizes their sin. That and one of his minions might have mentioned it when he tried to keep her." I managed to keep my face perfectly straight as I said it.
Morgan blinked slowly. "Aunt Tabs has been in Hell?"
I raised my hands in a who knew manner. We stared at each other then began to snicker. In minutes we were both bent over. I started to snort.
After a while, Morgan leaned back against my desk. "I haven't laughed that hard in a century." She swiped one long, elegant finger under each eye. "Our usual escapades aside." She grinned at me.
I couldn't count on graceful, or minor makeup issues, so I grabbed a compact I kept in one of my desk drawers. Black lines streaked down my cheeks. I pulled a baby wipe out of the package that lived next to the compact.
"That's gotta be hard." I couldn't think of anything much worse than living so long things ceased to be funny.
Morgan flipped her ha
nd as if it didn't matter, but I saw the shadows in her eyes.
"Speaking of demons and their sins, I have the feeling you know more than you're letting on about Ash."
"I'm still gathering information." Translated that meant I wouldn't get anything more until she was good and ready. After several lifetimes of living, Morgan doesn't act or speak impulsively.
"You ready to check out Clean Beans?"
My lips twitched. People come up with the strangest names. "Let me touch up my makeup, and I'm ready."
Morgan waited patiently while I re-did my eye liner and shadow. I'd been a witch-scout when I was younger, so I had a fully stocked drawer that included make-up, tampons and my back up wand.
"Always be prepared" had managed to become the motto of several groups, both human and non. Very few people knew the rest of the original slogan, then again times have changed and not many people have "to face an angry mob intent upon burning witches to death."
My mother was not the only witch who had residual issues from the Salem trials.
I took one last look in the compact, snapped it shut, set it back in the drawer and closed it. Morgan led the way to the front door.
I said the words to extinguish the candles and flipped out the lights before turning to lock the door. With my key inserted in the lock I paused, "Morgan?" She turned from surveying the street. I looked her in the eye. "Thanks."
She nodded. "We're friends, Kate." As if that said it all. I thought about it for a minute. I guess it did.
18. Clean Beans.
The fresh aroma of ground coffee slammed up my nose the moment I opened the door. Rich, powerful and faintly skunky, the odor infiltrated every corner of the coffee shop.
I love a good cup of Joe as much as the next witch, but this was a bit much. If there was ever a coffeehouse on steroids, this had to be it. My hands trembled slightly as if the caffeine had somehow been absorbed through my skin.
"Sweet Glinda and the ruby red slippers!" I muttered.
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