Charming People

by A. L. Tyler

  Rogers gave me a long look. “I can count on one hand the number of people who have received this spell. If you speak of it, to anyone, the Bleak will kill you. It’s an advantage over their enemies, and its secrecy makes it all the stronger.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  Rogers flashed Nick a look of scathing calculation, seeking to confirm that this was actually necessary and not just a courtship gesture.

  He withdrew a jar of ashes and a piece of a jaw bone from the bag. The next thing he pulled out made my breath catch in my throat.

  It was a flat iron disk, about the size of his palm, and ancient runes covered the edge. I’d only ever seen them in a textbook, but I knew them by heart. Every breaker did.

  I elbowed Nick without meaning to. “That’s an original circlet!”

  “I’m aware.” Nick gave me a sidelong glance as I sheepishly contained my enthusiasm.

  “This one was discovered at the gravesite of Fenris the Terrible,” Roger said.

  They discovered the grave site of Fenris! I managed to contain it this time. How many other secrets was the Bleak keeping out of the public eye?

  “The flesh had been cremated, and the ashes stored in nineteen jars along with a sack of bones and this circlet. Naturally, scholars questioned why the bones were left intact, as it ran counter to the practices of that era. The answer is that they will not burn or break any further than they already have.” A glimmer appeared in his eye. “Ms. Driftwood, do you know why it’s safe for me to touch these articles with my bare hands?”

  I knelt to get closer to them. I was afraid to touch them, but of course, I knew what he was referring to. They were silent.

  “There’s no magic in them,” I said quietly. “None at all. How is it possible for an object to be indestructible without magic?”

  “Your guess is as good as ours.” Rogers smiled.

  He unscrewed the jar of ashes and laid out my jacket, setting the circlet on top of it. He took a small pinch of the ashes—much more than I felt worthy taking, now that I knew the wards were dependent on such a limited resource—and dropped them on top.

  His lips moved, but he didn’t speak the spell out loud to protect its secrecy. When he’d finished, he picked up the jaw bone and slammed it down onto the jacket with incredible force.

  It rebounded off so hard that Rogers had trouble keeping his grasp on it. The jacket chimed to life with a gentle, familiar song. It was one of the sounds I’d long attributed to Nick’s trench coat.

  Rogers nodded, and I picked up my jacket.

  Magic from nothing. “It’s not possible.”

  “And yet, it is.” Rogers put away the circlet and the remains of Fenris the Terrible. “Axel was right about you. You belong here. You have a scholar’s mind and an insight few others can offer. I’m not able to reveal the details of Axel’s will until the investigation into his murder is completed, but assuming I’m kept on the staff, I would love to put in a word for you.”

  I pulled on the jacket, hating to admit that the offer tempted me. The jacket dampened the sound of the magic inside me—both the natural rhythm of what I had been born with and the ancient magic I had absorbed from the Topaz. With the removal of those constant background noises, it felt like my synesthesia was sharpened to every other magical source around me.

  Nick was always insinuating that my ability to hear magic was a superpower. For the first time, in that jacket, it felt that way.

  The spark of a vicarious thrill lit in Rogers’ eyes. “I’m told that it carries some personal flavors. Axel would have loved to document this.”

  I licked my lips. “The only time I can give is between consultations for Nick. I’ve committed.”

  “Of course,” Rogers replied politely. “The wards will protect the jacket from piercing werewolf bite wounds and make you less attractive to them by masking your magic. Remember, though, that only the jacket and the things it conceals are protected. It won’t pierce, but it also won’t stop them from breaking your bones, chewing you black and blue, or dragging you out of it. It’s a preventative measure, Ms. Driftwood, but it is not infallible.”

  “Understood.” I ran my hands down the front of the jacket, surprised that it didn’t just sound like Nick’s. It sounded exactly like Nick’s.

  Decades, and the wards hadn’t lost any power.

  Nick turned back to the door, clearing his throat. “Shall we?”

  WE WAITED FOR THE FOG to thin. There was no promise it would clear that day, so it was the best we had. Nick insisted on leaving the house first.

  I met that assertion with a full-on fuck no.

  We stepped out the front door together. I breathed in the air, thick with the smells of the ocean, pine...

  And wet dog.

  It was disgusting, but at least the desire to vomit somewhat outranked my fear in terms of mental priority. My nose curled and I tried to breathe through my mouth, but the damp in the air only made me think of the stink on my tongue.

  I spat, and Nick turned to me with a crooked smile.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you. It’s almost as bad as that slaughterhouse town up north.”

  He was talking about back home—north of Fallvale and Fowl Gulch. Wessel was a cow town with a small college. Its reputation for smelling of cow shit and decaying blood runoff from the processing facilities was epic.

  “I’ve never been,” I admitted. “And if it’s worse than this, I’m not ever going to.”

  Nick shrugged. “I’ll get you some vapor rub. That town’s big on poorly behaved werewolves, too, come to think of it. But we’re not dead yet, so I guess it must be bright enough. Let’s go.”

  We walked to the car garage, making sure to give a wide berth to the edges of the forest. Door safely closed behind us, the bickering began.

  “We’re taking the convertible.”

  I stared at Nick like he was crazy. There was a very solid-looking sedan sitting right next to it. “Why?”

  “I’ll be able to hear better without the top.” Nick opened the passenger-side door and gestured for me to get in.

  I crossed my arms. “The top makes no damn difference to me, and my ears are the ones doing the listening on this adventure.”

  “The top will make no difference to the wolves, either.”

  I sighed. “Fine. I’m driving.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re the muscle. I’m the surveillance. I want your hands free to shoot things.”

  “Well, maybe I want your focus free so I know if I need to shoot things.”

  He raised his hands, putting a fist on top of a flat palm.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Rock, paper, scissors,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “I am not playing you for the keys,” I said. “You’re a vampire. You have precognitive reaction times. That’s not a fair match.”

  “We can flip a coin.”

  “Great. But I’m calling it in the air, and you’re letting it hit the ground.”

  “Fine. Do you have a coin?”

  I threw my hands out before letting them slap back to my sides. “Are you shitting me, Warren?”

  Nick cracked a smile. I barely caught the keys before they hit the ground.

  As I slid into the driver’s seat, I glared at him. “You were going to let me drive the whole time.”

  He tilted his head. “Yes, I was. You work better with distractions.”

  He pulled the garage door opener from the glove box and hit the button. Outside, the fog had cleared just enough for us to see a pair of eyes staring out from the shadows beneath the trees.

  I gripped the wheel. “Well. That’s unnerving.”

  Nick pulled the flask from inside his jacket, taking a long drink. “One time I had a date walk out on me because I was asking too many questions about her tattoo.”

  My eyes left the wolf, but only for a split second. “Seriously? Now we’re going to talk a
bout you and one of your exes?”

  “We were horizontal on the couch. Start driving.”

  I took a deep breath, shaking my head. The eyes blinked twice and disappeared, the hulking form of the creature’s back creeping behind a large fir tree. I started the engine and pulled out onto the dirt road.

  “That’s how you’re going to distract me? By talking about an ex?” I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but the sound of mice clawing across a blackboard echoed in my head. They were everywhere, and they were active today.

  “Sharp turn to the right up here,” Nick pointed, gun in hand. I wasn’t sure when he’d drawn his weapon, but I was glad he was ready. “She wasn’t an ex. More of a failed one-night stand.”

  “Even better. One-night stand.” I saw the edge of the road and took the turn slowly. “What was the tattoo?”

  “It was either Marmaduke or Scooby-Doo. I couldn’t tell which, and hence the reason for the debate. Then I found out she didn’t even know who either of those characters are, and she’d just picked it from a book at the tattoo place. Another sharp right ahead.”

  “Where was the tattoo?”

  His eyes sparkled. “A gentleman never tells.”

  “A gentleman is already telling,” I retorted. “I was just trying to figure out if stretching or sagging could have caused the distortion.”

  “Believe me, stretching and sagging weren’t an issue for her. Do you have any tattoos?”

  “A lady never tells.”

  He gave a single nod. “Shame. I kind of like ink.”

  I flashed him a sidelong glance and just as the humor touched my lips. Then I slammed hard on the breaks as a shadow darted across the road ahead of us.

  Gods. It had happened so quickly. I’d heard it, off to our left, but it had moved—bolted—too fast for me even to utter a warning.

  My heart was slamming against my ribs as my ears strained. “It was in the road. You saw it, right? I didn’t imagine—?”

  “No,” Nick said humorlessly. “But it’s gone now.”

  I gave him a pleading look. If the wolves were darting into the open, we were on the knife’s edge. One shift in the wind meant enough cover that the road would become their territory, not ours.

  Dinner time. The words came unbidden to my mind.

  Nick stood up in the car, gazing around in the bright fog that surrounded us and cast a white, blocking glow over anything more than twenty feet away. I held my breath. We both listened hard.

  They’re everywhere. I shook my head as I stared at the wheel. I kept my voice low. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m a liability. They can sense the magic I stole.”

  Nick slowly lowered himself back into his seat. “They can’t. Not through that jacket.”

  His hazel eyes bored into me. It was almost like he was daring me to admit my fear.

  “I can drive.”

  “No.”

  I eased my foot off the break. I saw just a hint of a smile cross his face before he turned away.

  “I didn’t take you for a one-night stand kind of guy.”

  “Are you slut-shaming me?”

  “I was making an observation,” I said quickly. “Not a judgment. I guess it’s normal that you would tell me about your exes, because that’s something that we haven’t discussed before, and now we’re together...”

  The words were pouring out of me like a river, and each one still grated on me like I was spitting jagged rocks. Nick had raised one hand to cover his mouth, but his eyes gave him away.

  “...and you’re fucking with me. We’re driving through a horror movie waiting to happen, and you’re fucking with me.”

  “We’re fine. We’re almost there.” He waved his gun dismissively. “Left at the fork.”

  We drove on as I shook my head. He was good at making distractions. After a few minutes, I couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Was there even a girl? Did you invent that whole story?”

  “Pull in here.”

  I looked up and saw the covered garage by the dock looming before us. I parked and we exited the car.

  Nick tilted his head, looking away with a small frown. His hesitation made me scrutinize his words.

  “The girl was real. There have been quite a few one-night stands.” More hesitation. “They were all one-night stands. Until you.”

  Bullshit. “That’s a line.”

  He took a deep breath, looking at me frankly. “It is. But it’s also true.”

  His phone rang. He started walking for the dock at a quick clip. He glanced back at me as he holstered his gun and reached for his phone instead.

  “We’re safe in the garage and once we’re over the water,” he said absently. His brow furrowed as he read something on his phone screen. “I suggest we don’t linger between.”

  I followed him, and once we were at the end of the dock, he busied himself by flicking through a text message. I pulled out my own phone and saw a new text from Marge.

  Tell me you’re alive, hon. No messages since you left.

  I tried to find the right words. We arrived. It’s very atmospheric. I’ll send pictures soon, life permitting.

  Nick heaved a sigh, and I looked up at him before glancing out at the water lost in the white. I could hear the boat engine sputtering closer.

  “Bad news?” I asked, looking from his frown to his phone.

  “It was from the local handler,” Nick said. “His name’s Shane Brooks. He says he ran a detailed history on Axel about two years ago following a complaint of a boat lurking in the shallows. The boat turned out to be some teenagers looking for a place to drink and mess around, but his history turned up something on the brother. Callum and Axel haven’t been face-to-face in a long time. They’ve been estranged for ten years. They also fought over Axel’s late wife—before she was his wife.”

  I felt it in the pit of my stomach before he said it. The sound of the wolves skittering closer behind us, daring the almost-light even as they avoided the sea, didn’t help.

  “Natalie left Cal for his brother. And Cal threatened to kill Axel.”

  Chapter 9

  I stared at Nick in disbelief.

  He cleared his throat. “Act natural.”

  “Cal couldn’t have done it. You’re telling me he managed to dock, sneak past the werewolves, break into the mansion, kill Axel, and then get back on the boat?” I glanced out at the water, keeping my voice low even though I was sure Cal wouldn’t hear me over the motor. “No way. Not possible.”

  Nick flashed me a look. “It’s been my experience that wealthy people prefer to kill with money.”

  I frowned as the boat neared the dock. A rosy-cheeked man with a gray comb-over and a substantial build smiled and waved.

  “Nicholas Warren?” he called.

  “Callum Hayden.” Nick smiled up at him like he wasn’t possibly responsible for the brutal murder of Axel Hayden. “You should get it into the boathouse. Axel had some spell-work done there that will protect it from the storms. Can you manage?”

  Gods, I admired his acting abilities. He stood there, hands in his pockets and feet spread shoulder-width apart, his hair blowing in the light breeze and his perfect teeth whiter than the fog. Standing next to him when he put on his confident display never failed to make me realize I was slouching, holding my arms weird, and probably wearing a dirty shirt.

  Callum squinted around. The fog was growing thicker again, and the boathouse had disappeared. “I could use a little help if you don’t mind.”

  His accent was different than Axel’s, but it didn’t strike me as odd. He’d apparently been abroad for most of the last several decades.

  “No problem.” Nick looked around, frowning at the fog. “Jette, stay on the dock until I get back. They won’t come out here.”

  He leaped out onto the boat with the agility of a large cat and walked around to the cabin entrance. Callum gave an impressed nod as Nick steered the ship away toward the shore. The motor stuttered as they got it into
the house, and I heard it bumping against the moorings. The sounds echoed loud in the gaining darkness around me, and the slap of the waves against the dock posts made a steady beat. A light, dewy rain was starting to form, but I tried to convince myself it was still bright enough to keep my imminent death at bay.

  The sound of a wolf, silent on padded paws except for the disturbing noise of his clawing magic, ran back and forth along the shore.

  Then it stopped. Directly by the dock entrance, the wolf stopped. I couldn’t see it—I couldn’t see anything more than five feet away, the fog had rolled in so fast—but I knew by the sound, and because I’d come to rely on my ears in my line of work. A wolf was waiting at the end of the dock.

  “Nick!” I yelled, my voice echoing over the water. He was still in the dock house, rattling chains and trading jokes. Callum’s loud laugh echoed back at me. They couldn’t leave the protection of the dock house with that thing so nearby. “Nick!”

  The dock creaked and shifted beneath my feet. Near the shore, the wolf gave a low, throaty growl.

  I stepped back, as silently as I could, sliding my feet across the cracked and well-worn boards. My voice caught in my throat as the image of the wolves fighting over Axel’s body flashed in my mind. I didn’t want to yell out again, and I kept moving my feet, sliding slowly back to the water. In the fog, smell and sound were all the wolves had to hunt by.

  My foot slid back to emptiness. I was out of dock. Heart hammering, I said a silent prayer in hopes that I was psyching myself out. The way the boards groaned, whatever was on the pier was heavier than Nick.

  Heavier than Callum.

  The sniffing muzzle poked into view, jowls hanging and dagger-like teeth exposed. It inhaled one growling breath and lunged.

  I plunged into the cold waters of the north Pacific as surprised sparks shot from my fingertips. The cold sent a shock through my body as it closed over my head. I lost all sense of direction, and when I swam for the surface, I met a cold, smooth wall.

  I could see the light above me through the glazed surface. Ice.

  I drove my fist against it, losing a mouthful of air in the process. The sparks from my fingers must have been a spontaneous frost spell, and now I was trapped beneath the magic. I cleared my mind, because this wasn’t a problem: I set my palm against it to summon the fire within me.