This Strange Witchery

by Michele Hauf

  Tor chuckled and then kissed her quickly. “I wasn’t, despite what a certain part of my anatomy might make you believe.”

  “Oh, so it wasn’t just a big chunk of quartz.” She tapped him on the nose. “I know you fellas have difficulty controlling your second brain.”

  “My second—?” Tor rolled off her to lie on his back and laughed. “If that’s the way you want to play it.”

  His cell phone rang, and he tugged it out of his trousers pocket and answered. The caller was Rook from The Order of the Stake, an organization he hadn’t worked with for months.

  “I’m setting that part of my business aside,” Tor said to the man’s insistent request. “Really?” Tor blew out a breath. “In the 8th? I can stop by in an hour. But for future jobs, find someone else to do your cleanup work.” He hung up and turned to lean on an elbow.

  “What’s that about?” Mel asked.

  “There’s a media alert that needs immediate attention. A woman was bitten by a vampire last night, and she’s been texting pictures of the bite mark. Local news stations have been calling her for interviews. Rook wants me to nip it in the bud.”

  “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make things all better.”

  “I help people to believe that what they saw wasn’t actually what they saw. Vampires? Come on. What a bunch of malarkey.”

  “I kind of like occasional bouts of malarkey.”

  He kissed her quickly. Too quickly. “I favor some good nonsense talk myself.”

  She beamed up at him. And Tor’s heart performed an acrobatic flip.

  “Can I come along?” she asked.

  “You’ll have to. I’m not letting you out of my sight until after the full moon. Grab the heart. We’ve got a job to do.”

  Chapter 11

  Practically flying behind Tor as he walked down the narrow aisle leading to the inner courtyard of a tony 8th arrondissement building, Mel licked her lips and didn’t hide her smile. He hummed a tune she recognized: “Witchcraft” by Sinatra. It was about a man seduced by a woman.

  Interesting. And points for her.

  After she’d performed the cloaking spell, he’d kissed her. It had been a perfect moment, the two of them sprawled over the extinguished spell. She still had some salt grain marks on her knees, but it was all good.

  The man’s kiss had been electric. Unexpected. The complete opposite of his outer appearance. It had been hot and uncontrolled. And it was not something she wanted to go too long without getting another one of. And another. What luck that the man she had hired to protect her could also kiss like a charm? She’d suspected a softer inner side to him after hearing him sing and agreeing to hold Bruce’s hand during the invocation. Was she invading his stronghold? Tearing down his stalwart defenses? How exciting to even try!

  She abruptly ran into the man’s back as he stopped before a door. His humming ceased. The gentle squeeze of his hand on her shoulder to keep her from spilling forward into his arms reminded her that he was on a business mission right now. And she didn’t want to screw things up for him, so she would remain on her best behavior. Keep thoughts of kissing him longer, deeper and harder out of her brain.

  This was going to be more difficult than invoking a dark hex.

  “Where’s the heart?” he asked.

  She patted her tapestry bag.

  He pushed the hair from her eyes and over her ear, then looked her up and down. She’d changed into a violet velvet minidress that featured a splash of red spangles at the hem. The dress matched the minuscule red sparkly stars dotting her violet eye shadow. White go-go boots had seemed an appropriate pairing.

  “That color suits you,” he observed.

  “Why, thank you. Your choice of ties is always spot-on.”

  He tugged at the simple gray tie, which was knotted in a complicated triple layer that impressed the heck out of her.

  “Why the sudden assessment of my wardrobe?” she asked.

  “If I’m going to keep you within eyesight, you’ll have to assume a role once we step behind this door. I work hard to wear a facade. Play a role. It’s integral to my work. You’re going to have to play my assistant. Take notes. Make it look good. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t have any paper.”

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “I rarely carry it on me. The EMF energy messes with my magic.”

  Tor nodded. “I get that. Take mine for now.” He pulled a fancy gold iPhone out of an inner vest pocket and, punching in the passcode, handed it to her. “Make it look official. But don’t mess with anything.”

  “Like don’t touch anything?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that reminder. You’re going to mess with things, aren’t you?”

  “I promise to stay on my best behavior. I will be quiet and make it look like I’m taking notes on the phone.”

  “Good. Should I refer to you at any moment, just play along. Deal?”

  “Deal. If I do well, can I get another kiss?”

  “I—er.” He paused from knocking on the door.

  “Sorry,” she said. “You don’t mix business and pleasure. I get that about you. A big no-no to combine the two. But—well, we did kiss. You remember that, right? When the world sort of tilted...just a little.” She looked for some sign of agreement but only got a tightened jaw from him. “Okay...business. Forget I asked. We’ll discuss it later. Right now, you’re on.”

  “Thank you.” He knocked on the door, and a full minute later the door finally creaked open to reveal wary blue eyes beneath a tousle of blond hair. “Mademoiselle deStrand, I am Inspector Jean-Pierre Cassel. Paris Police. I’m from the human relations department.”

  “I already spoke to the police. They laughed at me. Loudly.” Her face pulled away from the crack between the door and wall.

  Tor stuck his toe over the threshold, preventing her from closing the door. “I never laugh at someone who has been victimized, mademoiselle. I simply want to ensure you are well and safe. The incident last night with the viral outbreak...” He paused and looked to Mel.

  “Viral outbreak?” The woman inside opened the door a bit wider. “No, it was a vamp—”

  “Oh, I understand, mademoiselle. And I accept your previous statement given to the officers who met with you for truth and one hundred percent validity. That was obviously a separate incident. But as I was reviewing the dossiers this morning, I noticed you were in the vicinity of the hot zone during your attack. The Parc Monceau. Not far from here?”

  “Yes, it was just off the bike trail. I met a man who lives directly on the park and has twenty-four-hour access—A hot zone? What does that mean?”

  “You met a resident? That wasn’t listed on the police report.”

  “It wasn’t? But I gave it all.”

  “Might I come inside? There’s some information I need to record such as your exact location, possible contaminant exposure and inhalation of toxins. It’s all to ensure your safety.”

  “My safety?”

  “The virus acts quickly, mademoiselle. Have you a will prepared?”

  “A will? Mon Dieu...” The door closed and the chain slid across the wood.

  Tor flashed Mel a dimpled smile.

  Mel smiled so widely her cheeks hurt. But when the door opened, she resumed a calm demeanor. She couldn’t wait to see Tor work his form of fast-talking magic on this woman.

  “Come in,” Mademoiselle deStrand said. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Monsieur Cassel. As I reported to the police last night, I was bitten by a vampire. He lives in a house on the park. I know you won’t believe me—”

  “Of course I believe you.” Tor pointed to the woman’s neck. “I can see that by the marks on your neck. The evidence is clear.” He followed her inside to a dark living room, and Mel stayed close behind. The television was tuned t
o an evening serial. “Oh, this is my assistant. She’ll be taking notes for the database.”

  “The database?” the woman asked, and glanced to Mel. She waved the phone, then started to type random letters into the text program which, if sent, would go to her own phone. “They keep a database on vampire bites? You really believe me?”

  “Whether or not I believe in creatures with fangs who crave human blood is not the issue right now, mademoiselle. What is—are you feeling well? You look pale.”

  “I’ve had my curtains drawn. I don’t want to turn into a vampire and I know sunshine is not good—I’ve been feeling poorly all day. You think I’m pale?” She pressed a shaking hand to her neck.

  “It’s one of the first signs of the virus. Isn’t that correct, Madame Jones?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes. First sign. Pale skin. Fear of the light.”

  The woman gaped. “The virus?”

  “There was a leak last night in the park,” Tor explained. “A medical transfer vehicle crashed, and a container holding a dangerously virulent biotoxin was crushed. The virus went airborne. And from our canvass reports of the immediate area, you seem to be the only one who was outside at the time.”

  “But the vampire was...”

  “Yes, the vampire.” Tor turned to Mel. An elegant arch of his eyebrow didn’t so much convey doubt but rather a sort of astute knowledge. He was talking babble as far as Mel could determine, but it did sound feasible. He focused his attention fiercely on the woman. “Are you sure the person you say assaulted you wasn’t instead trying to infect you with the virus? Did he take you into his house?”

  “No, he, uh...pointed out his mansion as we were strolling in the park.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, of course—it was after midnight. The park was closed. Do you think he was trying to infect me?”

  She swiped a hand down her throat, covering the obvious bite marks. Mel thought whomever had bitten her had been sloppy. Most vamps lick the wound following the bite, and their saliva would cause it to heal within twenty-four hours, leaving no visible sign they’d punctured flesh. That wound looked torn and ragged. Infected, even.

  “A virus?” the woman repeated slowly.

  “It can be delivered in many ways,” Tor offered. “Through saliva with a cough or sneeze, airborne release such as the crash, direct injection with a needle, exposure while trekking through an infected country. Even a sloppy puncture and then touching the bloodstream with an infected item, such as, say, a set of fanged dentiture.”

  “That sounds like an elaborate method of doing something so harmful. And if you say there was a crash—”

  “Staged, yet contained, we believe. A skillful ploy carried out to spread the virus as a means to test its virulence. But you shouldn’t tell anyone I gave you that information. This has not been released to the public. The area has been cleared and decontaminated. All are safe. Except those who were there last night between eleven and one a.m.”

  “I was leaving the nightclub and having a walk home when I met the man. He was so charming. A walk in the park sounded perfect. It was just after midnight. Why didn’t the officers I spoke to last night mention the crash?”

  “This is an active investigation, mademoiselle. The few facts we had at that time were not confirmed until early this afternoon. Has anyone come to you with a request for testing?”

  “Testing? No.”

  “Good. Such a request could only be a ploy from the people who released the virus. And they are not the good guys. You should sit down. You look—” Tor glanced to Mel. “Don’t you think she looks unwell?”

  “Most definitely.” And Mel made a show of putting her hand over her nose and mouth and taking a step backward.

  “I have been feeling woozy.” Mademoiselle deStrand sat on the couch.

  Tor rushed to sit beside her. He took her hand, and the woman gazed at him with desperation.

  And Mel could only be impressed.

  “What was the viral incubation rate?” Tor asked her suddenly.

  “The what?” Mel asked.

  Tor nodded insistently. “You know...”

  “Oh! Oh right, the virile incubation rate.” She made a show of clicking away at his phone, but it had already gone back to the password screen and the time blinked at her. “The data says a thirty-two-hour window from time of release into the air.” She winked then, because she’d impressed herself with that speedy reply.

  “Thirty-two hours?” The woman clutched Tor’s thigh. “What does that mean? I thought it was a vampire...”

  “I would never question what you believe happened, mademoiselle, but you must know there are types who like to use the persona of such a creature to disguise their disgusting crimes. If you’ve been infected, you need emergency care. Stat.”

  “Stat,” she whispered, lost and swallowing.

  “Are you sure you saw fangs?” Tor pressed. “There is a perp we’ve been after who wears fake fangs. He bites the person before rubbing a vile compound into their skin. It’s a weird cult. Science gone wrong. We had a death a month ago.”

  “Death?” The woman stood and gripped her throat. “No, I don’t want to die.”

  “But if you insist that it was merely a vampire...” Tor started.

  “No, I—I thought it was. He was so handsome. And when I saw he was going to kiss me, he—I saw his fangs.”

  “Handsome.” Tor again glanced to Mel.

  She returned an authoritative nod. “The usual MO.”

  The woman gasped. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Vampires don’t exist,” Tor said. He smoothed his palm over her hand reassuringly. “You’re a smart woman, mademoiselle. You’ve been traumatized. And with the virus exposure, you’ve not been in your right mind. I’m so sorry. You’ve been manipulated on a diabolical level. But as I’ve said, I know you are smart.”

  The woman nodded.

  “Vampires do not exist,” Tor repeated. And once more he said softly, as he stroked the back of the woman’s hand, “Vampires do not exist.”

  “Of course they don’t,” the woman replied.

  Mel tucked the phone in her pocket. Mission accomplished.

  “I’m going to order a car to pick you up and transfer you directly to Emergency Care. Perhaps I should call an ambulance.” Tor stood and reached inside his vest, then looked to Mel. She walked up to him and slyly slipped him the phone.

  “No ambulance,” the woman on the couch ordered. “I can’t afford that bill. You really think I should go in?”

  “It is imperative. You’ve been exposed.”

  “But you’re not wearing a mask, and neither is she. Aren’t you afraid of being near me?”

  “Not at all. It is a blood infection. Once it gets in your system, you can’t infect another person without direct exchange of fluids. You’re not going to spit on me, are you?”

  She shook her head, obviously baffled. Her shoulders dropped as she sank into the realization she had been a victim of something much worse than a mere bite.

  “My team can be here within the hour,” Tor said. “You’ll need blood tests, and an antidote.”

  “And that will save me?” The woman clutched his arm.

  “Of course. But I’ll ask you to keep this hush-hush with the media. We are close to tracking the perp’s hideout. If the right information got out to the wrong person...it could ruin the work we’ve accomplished on this case. When you feel better, we’d appreciate your cooperation. I’m sure you’ll have all the evidence that will lead us directly to him. Your help will prove invaluable.”

  “Really? You’re such a nice man. Why didn’t you show last night when I was being interviewed by the other officers? They were so rude to me.”

  “I was out on the perp’s trail. So sorry. Sometimes our personnel feel they can handle an issue that is f
ar above their expertise. But I’m here now. And I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Oh, merci.” The woman hugged Tor and he patted her shoulder.

  He winked at Mel.

  A flush of warmth to her neck and cheeks stirred up thoughts of kissing him again. The man could lie his way into her heart any day.

  * * *

  After a car had arrived and whisked away the woman to the ER, Tor made the required phone calls to the major media outlets to inform them the victim had been off her meds and had been transferred to Sainte Anne’s for psychiatric care. No vampires here, people. They bought it.

  They always did.

  He’d call Rook back, too. A vampire living in the Parc Monceau? Possible. But more likely, the asshole had told deStrand he lived in one of those fancy houses when he did not. The Order of the Stake would further the investigation.

  He started the van and turned onto the main road. Mel, on the passenger seat, practically bounced with enthusiasm.

  “You were amazing! But where are they really taking her?”

  “First stop is the ER at the Hôtel-Dieu. I have a man on the inside. He’ll take her blood and make it look official to Mademoiselle deStrand. He’ll give her some directions for rest and what to watch for regarding contracting the virus, like sudden death.” He chuckled. “I love that rogue-virus routine. It works every time. And no one dares speak about it because they’ve been such a help to the Paris Police Department.”

  “That was crazy.”

  “The crazy part was the vamp who left the evidence. Did you see that wound? Idiot. I don’t have any intel on vamps in that area. And if there were, they’d be elite, very cautious of their actions.”

  “It is a ritzy part of town. Which could be why the vamp led her there? To throw suspicions off his tracks?”

  “It’s a possibility. Look at you, thinking all procedural.”

  She wiggled with pride on the seat. “But the woman...”

  “She’ll be fine in a few days, after the bite marks go away and the placebo she’s been given miraculously keeps her from dying.”