“Pardon my noticing,” Alex interrupted my thoughts. He was mixing my drink. “But you seem preoccupied. Is your friend supposed to already be here, or are you looking for someone else?”
I chuckled at his observational skills. “Perhaps I’m checking the premises to make sure there are no potential threats,” I teased.
Alex poured vodka over the ice and Kahlua already in the glass, then he shook his head and smiled grimly as he spoke.
“Don’t want to know what would scare you in this place. Any person who bothered you would answer to management, the bouncers…,” he trailed off before continuing the thought, “Hell, most of the staff here on any given night. We enjoy your patronage.”
“And my tips?”
“Ha. Those certainly get our attention,” he allowed, “but you’re a regular, and you play it straight. It’s appreciated.”
Why not tell the kid? I chided myself. Another set of eyes watching might be a good thing.
“Very well, Sherlock, you’ve figured me out!” I said with a grin. “In addition to the friend who is meeting me here, I am hoping to catch sight of another patron. He’s at least a semi-regular, who usually comes in with two or more girls on his arms. The ages can vary, but they’re always in dark colors—”
“You mean the guy who thinks he’s a rock star, and an alchemist, and a hoodoo doctor or something?”
“No, no, not that one,” I interjected. “I’m referring to the one who always pays his table’s tab.”
“Oh, Nick, the one with enough plastic money to back up the swagger,” Alex said. “He’s got a reservation for later this evening. I’m pretty sure it’s at the top of the coming hour.”
“Let me know when he shows up?” I asked and was rewarded with a smile and a nod. “Just so you know and can warn the staff, Nick is worth actual money. He paid cash for that bus of a Mercedes he gets driven around in. The interior is styled like a limo.”
Grunting, Alex replied, “Noted. But I still wouldn’t want him anywhere near my sisters or daughter.”
“You’re a wise man,” I observed and gratefully took my beverage. A sip of perfect mixology passed my lips and tongue. “Mmmmm. And talented in the ways of bartending. You’re doomed.”
“Don’t I know it?” Alex confirmed with a laugh. “Going to go check on your chips. I’ll be right back.”
I grinned and took another sip of my White Russian and settled in to wait for Sterling and Nick.
* * *
My peace was short lived. Shortly after Alex left the bar, a young woman slid onto the barstool next to me. She openly stared at me for a few moments, not even bothering to hide her curiosity by using the mirror on the wall behind the artfully stacked bottles of liquor.
“Yes?” I asked, drawing the word out. “Something I can do for you?”
“Are you Catherine Woulfe?” she asked. Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I nodded briefly. Her eyes brightened, and a smile spread across her face. “Oh, thank heavens,” she breathed. “I was afraid I’d picked the wrong person. Tony said to give you this.”
She fished an envelope from her purse and held it out to me.
The envelope was crinkled and far from pristine, but I recognized the writing on the outside. The fountain pen’s strong, bold strokes belonged to Tony Moretti. He knew my father during their childhood. Even after he was turned, Tony remained my father’s friend and eventually became my ‘godfather,’ or, as I referred to him, my uncle.
I took a few moments to study the young woman sitting beside me. Dark haired with dark eyes, she wasn’t overly gorgeous. She had that girl-next-door look and a pretty smile. Mentally shrugging, I took the envelope from her. If she knew Tony, he sent her to me for a reason. I was mildly curious about why my beloved uncle would send a mundane to me.
Sighing, I took a moment to admire the wax seal. A tiny paw print was embedded in the red wax that kept the envelope closed. I touched the seal, and it popped off onto the counter, making me smile.
I pulled the letter out and read the message before folding it up and tucking it into a pocket.
“Can you help me?” she asked eagerly.
I sighed, wondering how best to answer Ms. Debbie Ann Kaelin. From what Tony wrote, I gathered she was as clueless as a mundane could get.
Admittedly, the majority of people really do not get the whole “Magick” thing. They think they can find a spell on the world-wide web, read the words, wiggle their fingers, and “poof!” what they want will materialize. It’s pathetic, really, because that’s not how it works, mostly because you have to have the ability to manipulate energy.
It’s not something you can develop, like a talent for art or music. It’s an innate ability you’re born with, and if you don’t have it, it just isn’t going to happen. And black Magick? Most people aren’t going to go that route. It requires a cold heart and few, if any, scruples.
Me? I don’t care. My family can be traced back to the Middle Ages where black Magick’s about all you’d find. My ancestors didn’t just watch regimes fall, they were in the middle of the action, laughing gleefully the entire time. I’ve got their diaries and journals to prove it. Staring at the young woman seated across from me, I now understood why Tony had sent her. I was probably the only one who wouldn’t take her for a ride, blow smoke up her ass, or use her for my own machinations.
“How far along are you?” I asked.
Shock flashed through her brown eyes before she managed to stutter, “Twelve weeks.”
Three months. That meant little to no danger to the unborn child. That was another reason Tony had sent her to me. My mother had instilled in me the importance of babies as it was incredibly difficult for fae to become pregnant, let alone give birth.
What I found amusing was that she was desperate to use Magick to get her boyfriend to marry her. If the guy didn’t want to marry her before she got knocked up, getting married afterwards was stupid. Forced marriages were full of misery, if not for the ones who engineered them, then definitely for the fools who fell for them.
Not only was the scenario pathetic, but so was the foolish girl sitting beside me.
My father would have laughed from the second he read the letter. Then, while laughing, would have told her to come back after she grew up. That is, if my father had been in a good mood.
“Are you certain you wish to bend the will of the father of the child you’re carrying? To force him to take you as his wife?” I asked, keeping the sneer from my voice. I’d learned from a young age, at my parents’ feet, to keep a poker face on most occasions.
I couldn’t help but think the couple were children having babies. Foolish children, at that.
“Yes,” Debbie replied eagerly, leaning forward. “When I told Tony what was going on, he said you were the best person to cast a spell that would make Jake marry me.”
I couldn’t argue that. I smiled, narrowing my eyes. “Do you know what goes into such a spell?”
“Uh, no,” the girl replied. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
“I thought not,” I said with a chuckle. “However, if you’re willing to do what must be done, give me your phone number or email address. I’ll contact you once I put together a suitable Court for such a thing. Tony said you swing both ways, so that’s helpful. I’ll be sure to find a suitable male and female for the occasion.”
“Wha-what?” Debbie Ann stammered.
“In order for me to have enough Magickal energy to fuel the spell, you’ll have to have an orgy within a circle. It helps to have an audience, so I’ll have to contact some associates who would be willing to be a part of the gathering. I’ll also have to make certain the proper circle and sigils are in place, so I can capture the energy you’ll produce while you’re in the midst of the orgy.” I paused, my smile growing colder as the woman’s face paled. “Don’t worry, it won’t harm your unborn child. It may end up with a pension toward Magick, especially sexual Magick, once it’s older, but that
’s not harmful. Not really.”
The young woman stared at me as though I were from another planet. “But…but…that would be cheating!”
“Did you think that it would be simple or easy? That all I had to do was say a few words, burn a candle or some such foolishness, and your baby’s daddy would be down on bended knee, obeying your every word and desire?” I retorted snidely. “Please. To subvert someone’s will, the spell has to be powered by you.” I paused before adding slyly, “And it isn’t cheating if you aren’t together, is it?”
“Tony didn’t say I’d have to be a part of it,” Debbie Ann replied mulishly. “He just said you could do the spell.”
“I can do the spell, but along with the fee, those are the terms.” I tilted my head to the side. “Of course, if your baby’s daddy finds out what you did, he can always have the spell broken. And if his will is greater than your desire, the spell won’t last long, if it takes at all. If any of these things occur, don’t come sniveling to me, begging for your money back. I don’t do returns.”
“Forget it,” she snapped, tossing her head. The effect would have been greater had her hair not been cut in a short pixie and dyed a horrible shade of burgundy. “I’ll find someone else to do it.”
“Good luck,” I replied pleasantly as she stormed off.
I watched her stalk through the room and out the door.
“Another satisfied customer?” The smug voice of Sterling came from over my left shoulder.
“Mundanes should be taught to avoid using Magick to solve their problems,” I grumbled.
He walked over and sat beside me with easy, fluid movements. The smile on his face reminded me of the Cheshire Cat’s from a pair of favorite books.
“An entire generation of humans has grown up wishing an owl had brought them an acceptance letter for that fictional school,” Sterling observed. “That has made their ignorance of true Magick worse.”
“I refuse to blame that author for their idiocy,” I replied. “I enjoyed those books and most of the movies.”
“They were a delightful piece of fiction,” he allowed. “Now, you invited me to this…quaint locale to share information, not to complain about humanity’s failings and entertainment triumphs, yes?”
I shot him a sly smile over the rim over my glass. “Among other pleasurable reasons. Tell me, do you enjoy fishing?”
* * * * *
Chapter Six
By the time Nick appeared, I was enjoying casual conversation and joking with the other regulars of the Clocktower. Sterling had slipped off to a booth to await the arrival of the warlock, and Alex ensured my glass remained full after I switched from the White Russian to a soda.
As the patrons at the bar erupted into laughter at the conclusion of a joke, I caught sight of Nick in the mirror. Alex nodded slightly in the warlock’s direction, and I tipped my glass toward him.
Let the games begin, I thought.
Nick was starting to show some age. Not his actual age, though. Nick hit his third century only thirty years before I did, but he looked like he was between his late thirties and very early fifties, depending on how the light hit, how much he was sticking to his no-carbs diet, and how well he was hiding the thinning spots on his scalp.
That’s not to say he looked all that bad, and he still had plenty of charisma. When he was younger, he had looked like a movie star, or at least a movie star’s stunt double. But his looks and his personality had the same problem—they were card tricks or a magician’s act.
Once you knew about the glamour, it didn’t work anymore.
Glancing around, I located the booth where Sterling sat. He was looking at Nick and the two youngish women who accompanied him. Sterling had a small smirk on his lips, and his eyes held no anger or fear. I watched him for another moment or two, trying to decipher his thoughts, before Sterling looked at me and nodded.
“So, what did you promise these two, Nick? All the beer they can drink?” I called out to him from my favored corner. “Are they even legal?”
He waved at me and projected his voice, “Catherine! Why don’t you join us?”
“I’d rather get a root canal,” I muttered to my bar mates. Those who heard laughed or chuckled. To Nick, I replied, “Actually, I have something I wish to discuss with you, minus your under-drinking-age companions.”
Nick laughed, kissed the closest fangirl, and motioned for them to go on without him. Both women were blondes with big busts, plunging necklines, and tight clothes. Neither was taller than his five-foot-five-inches. One had a tattoo from a popular fantasy horror television show on her left breast that was partly revealed by her plunging neckline and sheer blouse.
The broken pentagram and circle were done in black ink, but the stylized flames that surrounded them were done in shades of red and orange with a black outline. I wanted to roll my eyes at the tattoo, since a broken circle wouldn’t protect anyone or anything, but I managed to keep from doing it.
Instead, I kept my attention on my former boyfriend as he walked toward me. He made it a point to say, loudly enough to be heard throughout the establishment, “Jealousy of younger ladies is an ugly thing, C.”
“I prefer age and talent over youth and glamour,” I retorted. I tilted my head to the side, a sly smile curling my lips. “Spewing lies, Nicolai Elais Wright? Would you like me to tell everyone what fetishes you enjoy most? That would most assuredly diminish what little stature you’ve acquired in the past…years.”
The power of his name echoed around us, since I spoke it perfectly. Names had power, and I was far more powerful than Nick could ever dream of being. Typically, I didn’t bother using names against a person. It was something hacks did. I made an exception this time to remind him who he was dealing with and of the significant power differences between us.
He faltered, but recovered quickly, and his expression showed he knew the mood in the room had shifted out of his favor. In a slightly lower voice he replied, “This is why we never worked out. You don’t understand playful banter.”
“No, it’s because you are completely selfish and shallow, and can’t stand to lose,” I said with the biggest smile my face could accommodate.
Nick rolled his eyes as a bored teen would, and now that he was within two feet of me, grumbled, “What do you want?”
“I want to know why you sent the tramp to my office, and how you helped her get around my wards,” I said flatly. “And please, lie. I’m bored and could use the entertainment of forcing the truth from you.”
Nick chuckled and looked around the room.
“She volunteered and was stoned on power I’d allowed her to borrow. I’m not to blame, if she had natural talents and wanted to impress me with them.”
“And my wards?” I pressed. I knew Nick was sleazy, so hearing his admission about how he hired her wasn’t surprising.
“She claimed she could knock them down if she had enough power,” Nick said and laughed. “I gave her an elixir of my blood and the blood of a dragon. Once the rush of god-like power kicked in, she begged to prove to me that she could be the lead witch in the coven. I gave her your business address and waited for her to call from jail or the hospital.”
“She might have had actual god-like power, if you hadn’t tainted the dragon blood with the watery piss from your veins.” I countered. “Speaking of your blood, it will be decorating the walls, beginning with that in the crotch of your overpriced and artificially filled pants, if you don’t start giving me useful information.”
“That sounds like a real party.” Sterling interrupted from over Nick’s right shoulder. Nick flinched and threw a hateful glance at me before turning to face Sterling.
“I suppose you are C’s latest sucker?” Nick asked, standing tall and puffing out his chest. It was something I’d seen him do unconsciously on so many occasions, it no longer amused me. “Here to show her how the ex— doesn’t intimidate you or how impressive you can be when she’s watching? She put out for that, by the way.
But hey, at least it’s worth the trouble when she finally does finally put out.”
The smile didn’t cast the spell. The eyebrow that rose didn’t cast it, either. In fact, I’m not sure what physical gesture Sterling used to set things in motion. I suppose, if I were Nick, I would later convince myself it was all coincidence, and the bigger guy used the event to seem more powerful than he was. One of the hooded lights pointing toward the stage broke off from the beam twenty feet above us and crashed into Nick’s left shoulder. He fell to his knees and yelped in pain, then bit down any further screams.
“Manners, boy.” The Consigliere chided the kneeling Nick. “If not for the lady, then certainly for your superior. Run your foul and barely educated mouth to the fools who buy your poison.”
The light, which had fallen to the floor after smashing Nick’s shoulder and collar bone, flew up, and the hot light bulb shattered against his left cheek, eliciting another cry of pain. Again, Sterling did not move enough for me to see what he’d done to make the lamp a guided missile. The lamp dropped from Nick’s face and crashed to the floor. Bits of the bulb were stuck in his lacerated and burned flesh.
“You look rather pathetic and in need of your mum,” Sterling observed. “If your little girls get up from the booth they’re sitting in, I will freeze time. Thus, our dear Catherine will be free to do what she’s aching to do to them, before reanimating and setting them on you. I can inflict far worse upon you.”
Kneeling to meet Nick’s un-swollen eye, he jovially asked, “Or would you rather answer the lady’s questions?”
Nick nodded once.
Sterling spread his arms.
And then we were all standing as we’d been before the situation escalated: Nick, uninjured, faced Sterling. The lamp was not on the floor, nor were Nick’s blood or the pieces of broken glass and plastic. It was as if the past minute had never occurred. None of the patrons looked at us. Nick’s duo of fangirls were giggling at the handsome waiter who was delivering drinks to the booth. I knew I was disconcerted. I could only imagine how Nick felt.
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