The Hex Files: Wicked State of Mind

by Gina LaManna

“Looking into a dead one,” I said. “So, if you value your life, lay off the friendliness, pal.”

  “Burn.” Damien made a hissing sound as he put his finger on my arm. “Feisty.”

  I gave his finger on my skin a dark glare. “Next time you touch me, I’ll break it. Fair warning.”

  Damien pulled his hand away and shook his wrist with a playful grin. “Firecracker.”

  I let Damien study Matthew while I sized him up. He had greasy hair and a button-down shirt that was unbuttoned almost to his navel. He was dark all over—dark locks on his head, curly chest hair, and a build that could only be described as swarthy.

  He was not at all attractive to me, especially sitting next to Matthew—his polar opposite. If I squinted, I could see how someone could mistake him for good-looking in the dark if they’d had enough to drink. He was commanding and persistent—that was as positive as I could get.

  “Tell us about Linsey Luca,” I said.

  “Linsey...” He pursed his lips. “Doesn’t ring a bell. You’ll have to understand—lots of women come through here. Lots of women interested in me.”

  “Are most of the women from Gilded Row?”

  Damien crooked one eyebrow. “We’re on Silver Street, gorgeous. What do you think?”

  “My name’s Detective DeMarco,” I said, “and this is Captain King.”

  Damien’s eyes raked over us. “I know who the two of you are.”

  “Great, then you won’t mind telling us about Linsey Luca.”

  “I already told you—”

  “Try again,” I said in a low hiss. “Please.”

  Instead of denying anything, he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know the chick was Gilded Row until my partner told me. She made up a name—Pam, I think?—and I only figured out who she really was after she disappeared.”

  “If you knew Linsey, why’d you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t know her,” Damien said, “but I’d been seeing her come here for a few weeks. She caught my eye. I mean, she was the most beautiful woman who’s ever stepped foot in this bar—no offense, Detective.”

  “None taken,” I said, suddenly understanding that Damien was the sort of man who thought putting women down made them interested in him. Unfortunately, I was willing to bet it worked for him on occasion. “When was the last time you saw Linsey? Did you talk to her?”

  “I’ve talked to her a few times. Like I said, she was hot. I talk to all the good-looking women who come through the door.” Damien rolled up his sleeves and sat back in his seat, as if we should be praising his accomplishments. “I didn’t spend a ton more time on her than I did on anyone else.”

  I interpreted that to mean Linsey hadn’t taken a lick of interest in the man. Good on her, I thought, suddenly respecting the elf princess leagues more. “Right, so basically, she didn’t fall for your pickup lines, which isn’t a huge surprise. When’s the last time you saw her?”

  Damien scowled. “I dunno. Couple nights back.”

  “Did you talk then? Dance?”

  “Sort of,” Damien said. “But she was here with someone.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know,” he said with a scowl. “I never saw him—that’s just what she said.”

  I considered the very real possibility that Linsey had made up a boyfriend just to keep Damien off her back. Still, we’d have to consider the possibility she’d shown up here with another person.

  “Give me the run down on the night,” I said. “I want every detail, or I’ll find a warrant for the SpellHash I can smell stinking up this place.”

  “We don’t let people use in here,” Damien said defensively. “It’s a club—what do you expect? Some people will leave behind Residuals.”

  So, Damien did have an understanding of my skillset, I mused. Maybe he was more perceptive than he looked. If so, I’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for his oblivious act.

  “I don’t know what more there is to tell you,” he said, watching me carefully. “I’m here all day, every day. I have a partner, but he’s thinks he’s the brains of the operation. Makes me do all the grunt work.”

  “Bran,” I said, remembering the name of the co-owner Felix had pulled for us. “Bran Lewis is your partner. Did he front the money for the club?”

  Damien scratched at his wrist. “Sort of.”

  “You do the grunt work, and he’s the financing behind the business,” I said. “Got it. Tell me again about the night Linsey was here. Everything you can remember.”

  “I saw her climb down the steps from a carriage,” he said. “But I didn’t see who drove it or anything. It was one from the nicer side of town, that much I could tell even from a distance. I was standing at the door next to the bouncer, and then she just appeared like an angel before my eyes.”

  “Gee, romantic. Careful how much poetry you wax about a woman who’s missing—and possibly dead. We might just start to think you loved her.”

  Damien paled. “I didn’t love her.”

  “But obviously you were interested. Did she even notice you?”

  Damien rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, but when he blinked, it was heavy and pained. “Hardly,” he finally admitted, and then coughed. “That night was a little different. It was like she was really jazzed. Super excited about something when she arrived.”

  “She showed up alone?”

  “Yes,” Damien said. “As soon as I saw her, I waved her through the line, helped her inside, and got her fixed up with a nice drink.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “What do you think?” Damien snapped. “She started dancing. This is a club.”

  “She didn’t talk to you, didn’t meet up with anyone...nothing?”

  “It was like she was waiting for something,” Damien said. “She had her drink and started dancing—alone. In fact, when I asked if she wanted to, ah, hang out, she said no.”

  “Bet you didn’t like that,” I said. “Did things turn south after that?”

  “No!” Damien visibly recoiled. “I would never hurt her, if that’s where you’re going with this. It’s morbid of you to even think that.”

  “Well, you were probably one of the last people to talk to her while she was a free woman,” I said, “and it doesn’t sound like things went well.”

  Damien’s exposed chest, darkened by thick hair, began turning red. “I wouldn’t have hurt her. I have proof.”

  I leaned an elbow on the table and reached for a fry. “What sort of proof?”

  Damien fumbled in his pocket for a moment while I chomped on a fry. When he pulled his hand free and opened his palm, a thin bracelet of silver, clearly expensive, sat there. I flicked my eyes up to Matthew’s to see what he made of it, but he didn’t have much of a reaction at all.

  I, however, found the bracelet extremely eye catching, in large part due to the Residuals flanking every loop in the charm bracelet. A light, fluttery cotton-candy pink hovered over the bracelet.

  “Lovely,” I said, reaching out to grab Damien’s hand and pull it closer. “Is it hers?”

  He seemed confused by my sarcasm. “Do you see—those things? You know, the whole reason people think you’re nuts?”

  “I’m not nuts,” I said. “And they’re called Residuals. Yes, I can see them, and they’re all over this bracelet. Did this belong to Linsey?”

  “Yes, I just—she dropped it.”

  “You didn’t take it off her wrist?” I squinted. “Be honest with us, Damien.”

  He stared deeply into the squirt of ketchup next to my fries. “Fine, I might have helped it off her wrist, but I swear it was only because I wanted a reason to talk to her.”

  “That sounds a little overzealous,” I pointed out. “Women do not appreciate stalkers. If she wasn’t interested, she wasn’t interested. It’d do you well to learn that.”

  “You think I don’t already know that?” Damien finally cracked, raising his voice as he slammed the bracelet onto the table. “She didn’t pay me a secon
d’s mind, and I don’t know why. I really liked her. Maybe I could’ve fallen for her.”

  “I thought you barely knew her.”

  “I didn’t need to know her. She was so beautiful,” Damien said with a far-off look in his eyes. “So smart and feisty, and—”

  “—And very not interested,” I said firmly. “Back to the bracelet.”

  “Well, her bracelet was sort of dangling off her wrist, so I just sort of slipped it off when I helped her through the front door,” Damien said, looking disappointed I hadn’t fallen for his pitiful, and very creepy, story. “I was planning to buy her another drink, but she disappeared before I could give the bracelet back. I wasn’t worried—I knew she’d be back. She sneaks in here once a month or so.”

  “You knew she snuck out here?”

  “Oh yeah,” Damien said. “She gave a fake name, she came and left alone, she never let herself get too out of control. She was flying under the radar for sure.”

  “Hiding from her parents, and everyone she knew and loved,” I muttered. “Did you see who she left with the last night she was here?”

  “Once she hit the dance floor, Bran needed me to take care of some inventory in the back. By the time I finished, she was gone. Or, at least, I couldn’t find her. Speaking of finding her, what sort of things can you see on that bracelet? Will those little thingies help you get her back?”

  “The Residuals,” I coached, “and no, not necessarily. But they might give us a clue as to who took her.”

  “What do you see?”

  I gave a heavy sigh. “Fluffy pink dots, like stars, fat bits of dust almost, just hovering around it. The spell was freshly cast just before you slipped it off her wrist. Someone must have hit her with it as she arrived.”

  “That’s impossible,” Damien said with a frown. “I greeted her at the carriage, and she wasn’t under any sort of spell then, I don’t think.”

  “Spells can work from a distance, or even on a delayed sort of timer,” I said. “It’s hard to say which one this was.”

  “Well? What spell is it?”

  “I think we’re done for now,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”

  “But—”

  “Look, maybe you really did like Linsey and are anxious to make sure she’s safe, but we can’t discuss the case anymore with you. Unfortunately, you’re still one of the last people to see her before she went missing. That makes you a suspect.”

  Instead of reacting with an outburst of anger like I expected, Damien gave a huge shrug of his shoulder and let out a long, slow breath. “I guess that makes sense,” he said. “It just sucks. I really wanted to see her again.”

  “Then we need to do our jobs so that we can find her,” Matthew said. “Where can we find your partner?”

  Damien rolled his eyes again. “Bran’s probably upstairs soaking in the hot tub or sitting in the sauna. We’ve got a private entertaining area up there, and I saw him head up a bit ago. God forbid he actually do any work around here.”

  “Thanks for your time. I’d like to finish my fries before going upstairs,” I added. “Could you give us a minute?”

  Damien hauled himself to his feet and stalked off behind the bar where he retrieved a bottle of water and stared at us from across the room.

  “Would you like to step outside?” Matthew asked. “It looks like we won’t get much privacy in here.”

  I waved a hand. “It’s fine—Damien is not magically inclined at all. I’m guessing he’s got some elf blood in his family history, but it’s not much. I’ve never seen anyone with less Residuals clinging to them. He’s got Spell Splash, and that’s about it—and boy is it overpowering. I think he’s trying to compensate for something.”

  Matthew gave a thin smile. “What about the bracelet?”

  “The street slang for the spell I’m seeing is called a Dead Head,” I said. “I’m guessing this one was purchased in The Void because there weren’t any unique, defining qualities to it. Almost all homebrewed potions are flawed in some way, but this one is perfectly standard. And it makes sense because there will be less of a trace to follow.”

  Matthew nodded, and I lapsed into silence as I studied the Residuals once more, scanning for a hint of something that might give us an edge. As a general rule, Dead Heads temporarily rendered a person’s brain useless. The target became totally open to suggestion which made it easy to convince a person under the spell of basic things. Hence the reason it’s illegal and found in The Void.

  “What I still don’t understand,” Matthew mused, “is how the person who took Linsey knew she had this particular power. We haven’t even confirmed she has the power; there’s still a chance this kidnapping isn’t related to Maybelline and Lillie.”

  “The best way to find out is to recover Linsey,” I said. “It’s time we find Bran.”

  I DISLIKED BRAN EVEN more than I disliked Damien at first glance—which was saying quite a lot. Matthew and I found Bran on the rooftop as Damien had suggested. The staircase opened to reveal a sky-blue infinity pool surrounded by a small bar currently unmanned. Next to a row of lounge chairs sat a bubbling hot tub which had me sweating from a mere glance at the steam spiraling off the surface.

  The part-owner of Dust sat in a hot tub with his arms spread wide, his eyes closed, and his face tilted toward the sun. The smell of coconut oil wafted toward me, and I felt greasy at the sight of him. Bran must have lathered himself in the stuff because he was as shiny as a bald spot and greasier than olive oil itself. I could put him on a barbecue and he’d sizzle.

  “Bran?” I asked, purposely leaving my hand retracted. There was no way in Hades I was touching that slick palm. “Detective DeMarco and Captain King. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

  Bran didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Talk to Damien.”

  “Already did,” I said. “Your turn. Talk to me about Linsey Luca.”

  He cracked one eyelid open, studying me with annoying precision. When he finished his scan, he merely shifted lower in the water until it lapped at his chin. “What about her?”

  “You know her? Seen her around?”

  “Yeah. She’s Damien’s newest infatuation.” Bran raised a hand over the water, opened his eyes, and muttered a spell too quiet to hear. “Get over here and take a look. He’s ridiculous.”

  I stepped closer to the hot tub, curious, as the water began to warp and change colors. I had no interest in seeing what Bran was wearing under the water, as I suspected it wasn’t much, so I was glad to see the top layer of liquid thickening into an image.

  “Damien’s office,” Bran said with a dry laugh. “Little sneak peek for y’all. Hopefully answers some questions.”

  I glanced down at the hot tub, which had become a window into Damien’s office. In the moving image, there was an old metal desk, ugly green walls, and a burnt out light bulb. On the desk, was a framed photo of Damien and a girl. It didn’t take long to recognize the female as our missing woman.

  “Why does your partner have a photo of himself and Linsey on his desk?”

  “He got that photo taken a few weeks back,” Bran said with a smirk. “We had a photographer here, and I swear he hired the guy just to get a shot of him and Linsey. Lord knows he didn’t have any other shot with her.”

  “Why’d you go into business with Damien?” I asked. “Excuse my bluntness, but it doesn’t seem like the two of you are what I would call friends.”

  “You’d be correct,” Bran said. “But we’re family, which means there’s blood which is unfortunately thicker than water. Damien’s my cousin. I’m doing this as a family favor.”

  “You fronted the cash,” I mused, “and he takes care of the dirty work?”

  “You could say that,” Bran said. “We call ourselves partners, but as you can tell, we’re not equals. I’m just better than Damien—in every way.”

  “And far more modest,” I grumbled. “Talk to me again about Linsey. She’s been coming here on and off for a few months,
I take it?”

  “Yeah—I don’t remember the first time she was here, but I recognized her. I mean, she’s a Luca. She can shout fake names until she’s blue in the face, but she isn’t getting rid of that Gilded Row stench. You work in a place like this, and you learn to smell a Gilded from a mile away. They’re great for business... and tips.”

  “You’re a sorcerer,” I said, an easy assumption to make based on his trick with the hot tub window. “What do you make of a Dead Head being used to lure Linsey Luca away from your club?”

  Bran’s head lolled back, as if it was too much effort to hold his head up as he glanced at me. “I’d say that’s a pretty lame way to kidnap a girl. There’s no creativity involved in a spell purchased from The Void, and if you’re implying that I was to blame for it, I’m offended. I would’ve made a much bigger splash if I was running this show.”

  Surprisingly, I believed him. Sorcerers were well-known for their loyalty to magic—and magic alone. They were difficult to corrupt when it came to the purity of magic, but it certainly wasn’t impossible. It didn’t stop sorcerers from being jerks, however.

  “Sure, but you could have done it. It’s your club, and you’re certainly powerful enough.”

  “Right. But I didn’t do it.”

  “Neither did Damien,” I said. “He’s got next-to-no Residuals on him of any sort.”

  “Well, yeah,” Bran drawled. “He’s a sorry excuse for a spellslinger. At least he’s got a bit of elfin blood. That’s about the only thing he has going for him, and it’s the reason we got the permit to build Dust in the Golden District. I’m full sorcerer. The club’s in his name, the money’s in mine. It’s a fine line.”

  “I see,” I said. “You both hate each other, but you need one another.”

  “That’s family for you.”

  As Bran shut his eyes and leaned back, I focused on the Residuals surrounding his body. There were enough to keep me busy for some time, and most of them made me cringe. Suffice to say I could see why Bran had been drawn to running a club where plenty of women flocked. He clearly enjoyed their attentions.

  “Enjoying the view, Detective?” Bran opened his eyes and grinned.