My eyes slip shut against my will. The front door opens and I force them back open.
“Get in here,” Emilio hisses.
I struggle to my feet, my body protesting the sudden movement, and hurry inside. I didn’t know they could wake up before the sun had set at all. I had heard rumors about some of the older ones, but Emilio?
He slams the door shut behind me and pushes me towards the stairs. I’m stumbling, my feet not quite wanting to work.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asks, irritation plain in his voice.
“Haven’t slept in a while, I’m crashing. Stupid brewing and its need for balance.” My words are slurred by a yawn that makes my eyes water.
Emilio throws open the door to Javier’s room and half waves half pushes me inside. It's pitch black in a way I didn’t think was even possible during the middle of the day.
“Olivia, why do you smell like spice and exhaustion?”
“Morning, Javier. Could you turn on a light? This is kind of creepy.”
A lamp flicks on in the corner casting just enough light that I can see around the room now. Javier is still sitting in bed wearing an old-fashioned, white nightshirt.
“Olivia,” he prompts when I just stand and stare.
“I took a no-sleep potion, and I’m crashing.”
“I heard all of that. Why?”
“The coven threatened me last night. They want me to go to the police and lie and say you’ve been killing those missing girls.”
Javier steps out of bed, his movements smooth and menacing as his mouth curls into a snarl. “And did you?”
“No, you haven’t been killing anyone and I’m not in the habit of lying to the police,” I stifle another yawn. “Or doing what a coven tells me.”
He’s standing in front of me in the time it takes to blink. My hair flutters around my face from the displaced air.
“Did they hurt you?” He asks, a growl bleeding into his voice.
“No, I didn’t give them the chance. My car will need new paint though.” He puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me and I realize I’ve swayed forward.
“Come sit down.” He pulls me to the bed with an arm around my shoulders. My legs are shaking and my vision is blurring.
“Where is Patrick?”
“Don’t worry about him right now,” Javier murmurs as he sits me down on the edge of the bed.
“No.” I shove at his hands. “Where is he? You know.” I hit him in the chest, but it’s so weak it’s almost a pat. “Is he dead?”
Tears well up in my eyes. I don’t want to cry in front of Javier, but the brew is taking its price and I feel like I’m watching everything from outside my body.
“I don’t know where he is Olivia, I need you to find him.”
I’m laying on my back, but I don’t know how I got here. Javier is sitting next to me looking down at me, his eyes are so black. I think he is touching my face.
“I can’t find him. I can’t find anybody.” The tears are sliding out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I can’t stop them. I can’t ever stop anything bad.
“I have faith in you.”
5
It’s pitch black, but I’m floating on a cloud. There’s something cold here though, it’s touching my hair. I blink and try to sit up, then everything comes rushing back to me.
“Fuck,” I croak. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and my throat is sore.
“If you’d like,” Javier says with laughter in his voice.
“Lights, Javier,” I push his hand away and sit up, glad to find that I’m still wearing all my clothes.
He steps out of the bed and turns on the lamp. I have to blink against the light, but at least I can see him now.
“How long did I sleep?”
“All night and all day. The sun just set again.” He holds out a glass of water. I take it and chug it and immediately want another. I make a mental note to never use that brew again. I should have come here sooner.
“Mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Not at all, I had Emilio get you a change of clothes. They’re on the vanity.”
Javier’s bathroom is—striking. That’s really the best word for it. The floor is black marble and the walls are blood red. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling casting a dim, but warm light throughout the room. A jacuzzi tub sits underneath a window framed with black, velvet curtains.
The shower is the centerpiece of the whole thing though. There are no doors. The edges curve out of the wall giving way to glass in the front. The left side juts out just a little farther providing a way into the shower. It’s big enough to fit about eight people comfortably, just enough for a really decent orgy. There are ten total showerheads, five at the normal height and five at waist level. They are solid gold too.
A change of clothes is waiting for me on the counter as promised. It’s not even horrendously immodest either. There’s a black shirt that looks like it will be too tight and a pair of black jeans. Emilio even got me some panties, good man. A soft leather jacket with silver rivets on the shoulder is hanging from a towel hook. There’s no way I’m wearing that in this heat, but I’ll definitely take it.
I turn on the closest showerhead and dump my clothes in a pile on the floor. The water is instantly hot and feels amazing as it washes away the anxious sweat of the last of the forty-eight hours.
Javier has lightly scented shampoo and conditioner that somehow smells like a spring morning. I think I’ve smelled this on Patrick before, which makes me wonder if Patrick has been in here. I frown, something about Patrick and Javier together seems incestuous.
Patrick would give me such shit for being in this situation today. He always said Javier wanted a taste, but wouldn’t ask because I worked for him. I’d have said no even if he had asked, so it was better that he hadn’t.
Thinking of Patrick spurs me to move a little faster. I need answers, I should have come to Javier sooner, as soon as I was worried about Patrick. I can only hope that my hesitation hasn’t cost Patrick his life.
I look like some kind of vampire groupie once I get the clothes on, especially with my dark hair, which looks black when wet. All I need is some eyeliner and studded collar. I lay the jacket carefully over my arm and walk back out into the bedroom. Javier has changed since I last saw him, he’s wearing his usual white shirt, buttoned and tucked in this time, and black slacks. He is reading a book in the armchair by the window.
“Did you have a good shower?”
“It was fine,” I say, wanting to cut him off before he gets started with more nonsense. “Where is Patrick?”
“As I said last night, I don’t actually know,” Javier says, shutting the book. “I want you to find him. I’ve exhausted all my other options.”
“If you can’t find him what makes you think I can?”
“You’re a very resourceful young woman.”
I close my eyes for a moment to keep my frustration from overwhelming me. No one other than my long-dead mother should have any idea what I can do, but this conversation is skirting uncomfortably close to implications that scare me.
“How long has Patrick been missing? He stopped responding to my texts about a week ago.”
“It has been eight days since Patrick was last seen. A week before that, Emily went missing.”
My heart kicks into overdrive. Emily is one of Javier’s newer vampires, which means there are two missing vampires. Two dead girls. If Emily went missing two weeks ago that would be a week before Britney was most likely killed. More than long enough for a vampire to go from in control, to starving. Most vampires would lose control after just four days without a drop of blood. The question is, who would want to do that? Who would go to the trouble of framing the vampires?
“Anyone else missing?”
“No, and no one is permitted to leave the grounds until this is resolved. Patrick left without permission, he thought he could find Emily on his own. He didn’t seem to trust that I was doing
everything I could to look for her,” Javier throws his book across the room in a sudden movement that makes me take a step back. “I do not want my last words to him to be in anger.”
“I don’t know how to find Patrick. I think whatever has happened to him is connected to the missing girls the cops have been questioning me about. They were both drained by vampires, but I have no idea where to start.”
“I need you to do something,” Javier says, his fingers curling over the handles of the armchair. “You are a witch, not some helpless human. Find a way.”
“I can’t find him, I’m not in a coven, I can’t just cast a spell like that.”
“Find a way!” Javier shouts. “I have people searching for him, but his scent is gone. Erased. I don’t know if he is alive or dead or if someone is hurting him. I have failed him just like I have failed Emily.”
He puts his hand over his mouth for a moment, staring at the floor.
“If you do not find your friend, who will? The police will pin the murders on him or me if we go to them, and the coven would rather kill us all than help.”
I have that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach again. I know what happens next. I search and I search and there is nothing. No clues. No one to help, or even care. I can’t go through that again.
I have something now that I didn’t have then. It’s stupid to consider, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to find Patrick just because I was scared someone might find out what I could do.
“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you can find Patrick and get the police to look elsewhere for these murders.”
I look up sharply. “I’ll do it, but I’m doing it for Patrick. Keep your money.”
Some of the tension bleeds from Javier’s shoulders and he nods.
I turn and walk away. It’s time to go find my least favorite coven member. I won’t be sorry if I accidentally kill him.
Aaron Hall is an arrogant, sadistic, self-obsessed asshole. He is also a talented witch and the only witch within a hundred miles from the Hamilton lineage. The Hamiltons are an old family that emigrated from Britain just before the American Revolution. Their specialty is finding lost things, a weird branch of mental magic that has all but died out.
Finders are almost as sought after as healers. For Aaron to get traded out to a coven in a smaller town with no real power to speak of means he fucked up in a big way. Whatever the reason, it makes what I need to do so much easier.
He’s part of why I came to this town actually, but the coven leader shot me down before I ever had a chance to ask him for help. I figured out for myself that he wouldn’t have helped me regardless after an incident involving one of the neckers right after I moved here.
Aaron, while a terrible person, is also very predictable. Every weekend he ends up at Full Moon Saloon, the trashy bar at the edge of town with the strip club in the back. He likes girls, feeling like he’s the baddest person in the room, and spending money. Full Moon is more than happy to accommodate all of that. The tricky part will be getting him outside.
The bright blue neon sign set on a pole by the road says ‘Full Moo’ right now because one of the lights is out. I smirk and park my car behind the bar where there is the least light. It’s also fairly close to the back door. I pop the trunk before I get out and pull on the leather jacket, even though it’s still hot as balls at eleven pm.
My jacket clinks a little as I move. I’m loaded down with brews just in case I get into some trouble. I grab a little green vial from my pocket and unplug the stopper. Green smoke curls up my nose as I tip it back and swallow the contents. It’s minty and sends a chill down my spine that makes me shiver involuntarily.
I shut my eyes for a second and slip back into a version of myself that I don’t like to acknowledge ever existed. Desperate. Rash. Stupid. This would have been her stomping grounds if she had lived here. She could work a stripper pole and did for about six months before things got out of hand and everything changed.
I go around to the front, letting my hips sway as I walk. The windows are all blacked out, but I can hear the bass from outside. The bouncer at the door checks my ID, his face passive as he hands it back and waves me inside.
I push the door open and I’m almost overwhelmed by the scent of cigarettes and stale beer. The front area is full of tiny, dirty tables. A long bar stretches the length of the room. The place is pretty empty. There are barely-dressed shot girls getting refills for their trays and a few patrons, but that’s it. A curtain separates the bar area from the strip club, red lights flash through the gap like a beacon.
I wind my way through the tables to the curtain and push aside with the edge of my arm. It swings back behind me as I duck inside. There is one large raised platform in the center of the room shaped like a cross. There are poles every six or so feet, at least half have a girl gyrating on them in varying stages of undress.
Men stand around the edges dancing along to the music or watching the girls intently. I walk around a lap dance and almost bump into a man twerking very badly.
Loud laughter draws my attention and I see Aaron climbing up on the platform with a wad of bills sticking out of his hand as he grinds up on one of the strippers. She bends over and pushes her ass back against him as he drops the money down on her. Two friends are cheering him on. Behind them is a table littered with shot glasses and an empty bottle of tequila.
I plaster a smile on my face and stroll in that direction, forcing myself to look around so it’s not obvious I’m here for Aaron. An overweight, balding man leers at me. I’m sure they don’t get many women in here that aren’t employees.
A shot girl almost walks into me.
“You need anything?” She asks, still walking, like she knows I’ll say no.
“Actually yes, can you bring me a bottle of tequila? Something good.”
“Hundred dollars baby, you want to open a tab?” She says, holding out her hand.
“Nah, just the tequila will do,” I dig out my wallet and count out the money. I’m absolutely sending Javier a bill for this.
I find a table a few feet away from the stage, right in line of sight for Aaron, and sit down. I drape my arms around the back of my chair and stretch my legs out in front of me, looking for all the world like I’m settling in to watch.
The girl on the pole in front of me is pulling off a bird of paradise in spectacular fashion. I’m surprised they have someone this talented in a smaller town like this. A girl that strong and limber could make a good living in a big city.
Aaron’s stops grinding on the stripper and I can see the moment he notices me. He elbows one of his friends and nods towards me. His friend says something to him, but Aaron just keeps staring at me.
The shot girl shows back up with the tequila and a stack of glasses. I hand her another few dollars for a tip and pour myself a drink. I look at Aaron and lift the first shot in a toast, holding his gaze as I toss it back.
He licks his lips and shoves one of his friends when they tug on his arm. I look away, pretending to be interested in the stripper again. He’ll either come over here or he won’t, the invitation was clear. If he doesn’t I’ll just have to catch him in the bathroom or something.
It takes ten minutes and another shot before he walks into my line of vision.
“I know you from somewhere,” he says, his eyes traveling from my chest to my feet.
“Tequila?” I pick up the bottle and swing it gently from side to side.
“Sure,” he says pulling out the other chair, flipping it around, and sitting down. “What’s your name?”
“Olivia.” A drop of tequila splashes onto my finger as I pour, I lick it off and hand him his glass.
“Aaron,” he says as he takes it, his fingers clumsily brushing against mine.
We drink and he slams his glass down on the table, sucking at his teeth.
“You’re a witch aren’t you?”
“Got it in one,” I say with a slow
smile. “Maybe you can even guess why I’m here tonight.”
“Hmm,” he says, leaning forward a little further. “A witch, hedgewitch I’m guessing, with no coven in a human strip club. You playing trick or treat?”
“Got a regular Sherlock here. No tricks though only treats.” I wink and twirl my finger around the edge of my glass.
“I don’t know, if you were any good the coven would have snatched you up as soon as you got to town.”
“Oh please, the coven doesn’t want me because I’m not willing to kiss their asses or the council’s,” I roll my eyes. “If they had the balls, we’d be working together. There’s no reason something this profitable should be left to the humans.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he hesitates, tapping his fingers against the table. “Maybe if you give me a treat tonight, and it’s good, I can get you some more business.”
I lean forward. “Maybe that sounds like a deal.”
“Do you have it here?” He asks, glancing at my jacket pocket.
I glance over at one of the bouncers. “No, I’m not stupid enough to bring that stuff in here. I’m not looking to get banned.”
“Where is it then?” Aaron asks, his hand twitching impatiently.
“Outside, we can go out the back exit over there.”
Aaron stands and starts heading toward the door. I have to scramble to catch up, I didn’t expect him to be this eager.
He’s halfway into the parking lot before he realizes he doesn’t know where to go. I catch up and tug on his arm.
“This way,” I have to bite my tongue before I add ‘dumbass’. I can’t go offending the customer.
I open the trunk and pull a black bag towards me and fish out a fat, glass vial. The brew inside is a shimmery silver, I always thought it was pretty.
“Try this, it’s a great ride,” I hold it out to him.
“You take some first,” he says, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at me like he’s caught me out. This shithead obviously knows nothing about brewing.
Borrowed Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Witch's Bite Series Book 1) Page 5
