I know where the bodies are.
From her perch in a loft above Rathbone’s main warehouse space, Annie lay on the dirty floor and took a silent count of the dead bodies piled in the room. There were 150 corpses, which on some level could be enough to take down a nonmagical government. With magic to defend the Council and Rathbone’s inability to use the athame, Annie saw nothing to panic about just yet.
But 150 people lost their lives for this.
Distraught, Annie held out her palm and stared at it, visualizing a fireball hovering in the air. She could end it now, burn the lot of them, but Rathbone would run. Dropping her hand, she watched Rathbone inspect his army.
Reanimated corpses stumbled across the floor, moaning and groaning absently. The zombies bumped into the walls, tables, and chairs.
Rathbone’s testing them?
The dark wizard strolled through the masses of dead, covering his face with a heavy cloth. He pointed toward certain bodies, making comments to a man taking notes behind him, and ignored the reanimated dead that were roaming free.
I don’t see Sarconis. No man in a black-and-white striped suit walked about.
Deciding she had seen enough, Annie rolled to the side, pushing herself up. Her leg kicked out against a stack of empty boxes. They teetered and fell over. Both men looked up instinctively.
Crap.
She heard a quick bark of orders and then footsteps. A rickety staircase squeaked under the weight of several men climbing. Her heart thumped in her chest.
Cham… He doesn’t know where I am. No one does!
Annie raced through the pile of mildew-covered boxes, carefully treading to the cabinet in the back corner where she climbed inside, closed the door, and waited.
The footsteps neared; fear and adrenaline coursed through her veins. Tears threatened to fall. Annie breathed deeply, holding them in and trying to calm herself. Listening to the footsteps, to the volume of the sound, she gauged the distance they were from her hiding spot.
They’re close.
Instinctively, she held her palm toward the cabinet door and placed a protection spell on it, cloaking her location should they try to track her.
“There’s no one up here!” shouted a man.
“Something knocked over these boxes! There’s someone up there. Look again!” Rathbone commanded.
Through a crack in the door, Annie saw the man throw tables and chairs aside, look behind a small sofa, and toss boxes out of the way. He investigated a second cabinet two feet from her hiding spot. Finding it empty, the man reached for her door. She chanted another repelling spell so the man couldn’t grasp the handle.
“I have them. There’s magic here!” he called out, relief in his voice.
“Undo the spell. I want whoever that is, and now!”
A short, thin man in a purple dress shirt and black pants waved a palm across the door; Annie felt the protection spell evaporate around her. She positioned her palms to be at the ready, and the door opened. Annie cast a powerful spell, repelling him away from her, sending him over the edge of the loft.
Teleportation was impossible from the inside of a building to the outside, so Annie clambered out from her tight hiding spot, jumped to the top of the cabinet, and climbed out of an open window. Rathbone’s men raced up the stairs after her as she teleported away.
Chapter 27
“I’ve been calling for you for an hour. We need to talk about the plan, and you’re constantly gone. I can’t work like this,” Cham said. Exhausted, Annie dragged herself to the back porch and sat beside him. He didn’t meet her gaze. She could see the tears in his eyes.
Still shaken from the warehouse, Annie felt her body quiver beside him, her own tears streaming down her face. Tears dropped to her jeans, creating patterns of stains. A protective arm slipped around her shoulders; she leaned against him and cried. Neither moved until the sun lowered itself along the horizon and night crept forward.
“Please tell me what’s going on,” he said.
“I’m trying to catch a murderer.”
“Whose murderer?”
“Does it matter?”
Her face was tight from dried tears. She wiped new ones away.
“If you get yourself killed, yeah, it matters. Where were you?” His outside demeanor was calm, but Annie felt his heart pounding against his chest.
Pulling away, Annie decided to admit everything. “I almost got caught at Rathbone’s warehouse.”
“How?” His mouth formed an “O” and almost said more, but he stopped himself. His hands shook as he considered the danger Annie would be in if Rathbone had caught her.
“I broke into his warehouse and hid. I watched him inspect the zombie army. About 150 people, just lying there. And I was on the dirty floor and kept thinking all I had to do was start a fire. One large fireball and run for it. Put an end to this. I changed my mind because we’d lose Rathbone.” Her voice quivered while crying, but she was on roll and so continued. “I got up to leave, and this whole pile of boxes fell over. They knew someone was there. And I was scared. No one knew where I was. All I do is make you mad. And I’m going to end up like my dad.” More tears fell.
Contemplative, Cham shifted uncomfortably before answering. Annie hiccupped, fear gripping her—the fear that her best friend would leave her. But Cham came to a decision, grabbed her chin, leaned in, and kissed Annie. The fight melted behind them. Annie let go of her feelings and returned the kiss. With more truth to tell, she finally pulled away.
“What?” His eyes darted back and forth searching for an answer.
“I need to tell you something, but you have me so flustered and emotional, I’m sucking at our friendship and my job.”
“You’re not sucking at your job and us,” he said glancing at his own hands. “I’m just so mad because I’m in love with you, and you’re scaring me.”
Annie reached for his hands. Strong and cool, they always lifted her up, protected her, kept her grounded. “You never said anything. Why?”
“I didn’t think you felt the same.”
Throwing her arms around him, Anne Elizabeth Pearce sat in Robert Donald Chamsky’s lap resting her head on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck.
“I do. I’m screwing everything up.”
“Not everything.” His lips grazed hers.
“He’s going to move those bodies. Even he’s not dumb enough to leave everything there, knowing someone hid in the warehouse.” Cham stroked her hair.
“If they don’t move them, we’ll be walking into a trap. I think we need to regroup and stick to the original plan. Plant the orb and follow him to the bodies. Surprise him.”
“You’re the boss.”
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “This fight, these stupid chances you’ve been taking made me realize that I don’t want to go without telling you what I was feeling. This is the right time, unless you don’t feel the same. Then it’s not… the right time.” His voice quivered.
“And I’ve been acting like a pain in the ass.”
“If Rathbone wasn’t involved, I’m sure you be less of a pain in the ass.”
Prior to the kiss, Annie might have smacked his arm; now she balled her fist to do so but rubbed the muscle of his triceps instead.
“Maybe.” Annie reached for his hand, pulling him up. “I’m so focused on Rathbone as my dad’s killer. It’s getting in the way of solving Amelie and Jordan’s murders, and I really don’t want it to get between us. Especially now.” She leaned up and kissed him. “Zola told me you were mad at me because you were in love with me.”
“Did she, now? Smart fairy.”
“It’s always been you. I think I’ve always been yours, whether I knew it or not.” Their lips met again, their mouths longing for each other. They entered her home, Cham’s hands exploring every part of Annie’s body.
*
Rathbone’s mansion sat in the middle of his five-acre property, cloaked by black magic and guarded
by a team of vampires, booby traps, magical creatures, and hexes. To the west of the house, open land made it easy to spot unwelcome intruders; then again, it also made finding Sarconis a difficult endeavor, with them unable to get any closer to the mansion.
Gibbs and Spencer chose the forest to the east as their point of approach. Several layers of protection surrounded the mansion and its property, but the first spells were easy to disengage. Clearly they had only been placed to discourage random nonmagicals from entering further into the trees.
Progressively, the hexes and jinxes became more dangerous: acid baths, poison arrow booby traps, random rain storms springing from the sky, and needleweed—the thorny ivy that grew on its victims and suffocated them to death. The magical vine covered a good portion of the forest floor.
As each obstacle crossed their path, they methodically removed the spell or curse before moving on, taking the better part of the night to reverse the enchantments before reaching the clearing around the house.
Spencer and Gibbs hid behind several large trees twenty feet inside the forest, where they had a great view of the house and property. The Wizard Guards set up chairs in the trees and watched the comings and goings of everyone while waiting for Sarconis or for the right creature to trap the missing vampire. As dawn approached, a flood of vampires returned to the mansion.
The perfect vampire choice appeared just ahead of the sun as it broke the horizon. The creature ran across the pavement, avoiding the sun’s rays. Tipsy, she stumbled up the stone steps, snapping a high heel and twisting an ankle.
“Fuck!” she cried, grabbing the clear, plastic heel.
“Oh man. We’ve got a winner,” Spencer commented and cast a spell in her direction. The vampire jumped when the spell made contact.
Telepathically, he said, “Enter the forest. Something needs your immediate attention.”
In a trance-like state, the vampire came willingly, hobbling across the stone walkway, into the grass, and through the trees to meet Spencer and Gibbs.
“Hi the-there, cutie,” the creature stuttered, falling into Spencer.
“Woo. I think she drank the entire bar.” Turning his head, Spencer grimaced and held the drunken vampire at arm’s length away.
Gibbs grunted a modification spell, erasing all memories of the encounter and replacing them with false images of a house cat caught in the vines.
With her glazed-over eyes, limp body, and nonsensical language, the vampire was perfectly controlled by the wizard guards. While she remained in this state, Spencer placed a listening device under her hair, a replica of a leaf that would disintegrate into nothing if discovered by someone other than a Wizard Guard. Spencer ordered the vampire to return to the home and look for Sarconis. Still enchanted, she sashayed back to the mansion.
“How did she do that on one broken heel?” Spencer laughed.
“Good enchantments.”
The Wizard Guards settled in for a long day.
“I hate surveillance.” Gibbs passed the listening device to Spencer and stood up. “Six o’clock and no one’s around.”
Spencer rolled his eyes and set the earpiece in place. The device-wearing vampire busied herself preparing for meals, cleaning the front entry, and, for whatever reason, polishing silver. Much of the time, the creature complained rather loudly about that last particular job to anyone who came near. More importantly, she followed Spencer’s orders, continually, annoyingly and suspiciously asking about Sarconis. The name garnered stern rebukes; she was warned not to ask unless she wanted a stake through the heart.
“Sarconis makes everyone in that mansion jumpy,” Spencer commented. “At least Sturtagaard wasn’t lying.” He fiddled with the sound. “Here we go.”
Gibbs threw on his earpiece and listened.
“So I hear you’re looking for me. Might I inquire as to why?”
It was Sarconis—his voice charming even through the listening device.
“I… oh… I don’t know why, sir. I never… I’m so sorry.”
“I’m much too busy to be bothered by a silly vampire’s needs,” Sarconis said. “If I have to return here, I suspect you won’t be alive to see the next sunset.”
“There… there was something in the forest. Mr. Rathbone wanted you to check it out.” The enchantment was speaking for her.
A long pause came next. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sarconis exited onto the porch, wearing his trademark suit, and glanced around the property. He draped a thick cloak over his shoulders to protect himself from the sun and headed into the trees.
Once Sarconis was inside the forest, Gibbs blasted him, knocking the vampire to the ground. He stumbled and was unable to stand again, so Gibbs hit him again, the second shot rendering him immobile. Spencer restrained the creature with a silken rope—first tying his wrists together and then his ankles. Once restrained, they tied Sarconis around his waist and attached him to Gibbs to keep him from escaping. Spencer unfroze him before they set off for the prison.
“Let me go, you insolent human!” the vampire shrieked. “I’m Saarrrconniisss… ” His voice echoed in the forest long after Gibbs teleported him away.
*
Cham woke suddenly, momentarily confused by the four-poster bed and pure white linens cocooning him. Too warm from the heavy comforters, he flipped them off and turned to Annie, sleeping beside him.
She slept deeply, likely more soundly than she had in the past months.
It’s been a long week for both of us.
He draped his arm over her; she rolled from her side to her back so that his hand landed on her breast. He was in no hurry to remove it.
“It’s a good thing you’re my boyfriend or I’d have to remove that hand for you,” Annie murmured.
“I’d hate to beat up the guy taking advantage of you.” He traced her nipple with his finger.
She giggled then exhaled. “I’m sorry about everything. I never should have lied to you.”
Cham rolled on his back, placing his arm under his head. “You have a crack on the ceiling.”
Annie snuggled closer. “Are you ignoring me?”
“No. You’ve withheld information from me before, so I shouldn’t be mad. I think it got jumbled with my feelings for you. I’m over it.”
“I don’t want to give you a reason to leave me, too.”
Knowing her history, Cham understood where her irrationality came from. “Dave was young and stupid, Charlie was an idiot, and your dad didn’t have me to keep him out of trouble.”
Cham held her tighter, knowing he would never leave her, no matter how much she cried, or screamed, or ran away. He loved her strength and confidence and had always been there, whether Annie chose to see him or not.
“And what do I do for you?” she asked.
“I found my voice, and strangely I’ve gained confidence after you dragged me into all these crazy bits of trouble.”
“You’re welcome.”
“This is the last crazy I’m working with you on. You stress me out way too much.” He grinned.
Annie smacked his chest, though in reality both knew rules were rules and couples were unable to partner together in the Wizard Guard. Past history revealed it was too much of a liability.
Delicious smells wafted up from the kitchen, beckoning Annie to completely wake. She summoned her clothing, pulling a shirt over her head. “I think Zola made some stew.”
“For breakfast?”
She shrugged and slipped on her jeans.
“Are you okay with us?” Cham asked.
“It’s too late to worry about it.” Tying her hair in a ponytail, she turned to look back at him. “Yes, I’m more than okay with this.”
When he finished dressing, she pulled him close, kissed him, and guided them to the kitchen with one well-placed teleportation spell. Zola waited for them in the kitchen.
A smile crept across the fairy’s face, in an ‘I-told-you-so’ sort of way. Though it wasn’t
in her nature to ask and pry, she likely knew what had happened, and she seemed happy with the pair.
Two steaming bowls of hot stew found their way to the table with a little help from fairy magic, rendering the pair mute as they dug into Zola’s famous, delicious, bone-warming stew. As they ate, Zola cleaned the kitchen, seeming to take extra time in doing so. A smile remained plastered to her face.
“Do you think Sturtagaard can get Sarconis to talk? Providing we find him, I mean,” she asked.
“He wants freedom. He’ll figure it out. Think he knows who his boss is yet?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure it’s eating away at him.”
They ate in silence, finishing their bowls. Zola started handwashing the only item in the sink, soaping it up and rinsing several times, slowly.
“I have some ideas for our first date.”
Zola dropped a glass behind her—shards covered the floor.
“Sorry. Sorry, Annie, dear.” The fairy still grinned broadly as she swiped a palm; glass disappeared, landing in the garbage can.
Annie grimaced. The phone rang, killing the mood.
“Cham speaking.” A pause. “Say what?” He looked at Annie. “They have Sarconis at Tartarus.”
*
Gibbs sat across from Sarconis in the interrogation room, reading the latest copy of The American Sphinx and drinking a can of pop. Gibbs, with much patience, carried on like this for twenty minutes. Occasionally, he minded his manners, put down the paper, and asked the vampire if there was something he could get for him. That was only occasionally, though.
“I don’t see why I’m here. I must be released immediately. I’m Sarconis!” the vampire said, and Gibbs turned back to the newspaper. “You’re a strange man,” Sarconis remarked after a moment.
Gibbs ignored him and continued with the paper. When he finished the Wizard Council news, he folded the paper and laid it down on the table.
“What do you do for Rathbone?” Gibbs asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The vampire wore a new, expensive suit and an ugly, black cloak draped across his shoulders to keep the sun from damaging him. The fabric—aged, torn at the hem, and dirty in spots—ruined his overall neat appearance. His hair, slicked back with gel, was sticky and wet and shone brightly in the artificial light radiating from the ceiling.
The Day of First Sun (Annie Loves Cham Book 1) Page 28
