Southern Belles and Spells Matchmaker Mysteries

by Amy Boyles

  “Ew. Okay.” I made a check mark in the air. “Note to self. Do not talk about blood.”

  He rose and crossed to an ottoman with a pillow top. Thorne lifted the top and pulled out a blanket. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I don’t think you should go anywhere tonight.”

  “Of course I’m going somewhere. I’m going home.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Why? You can’t keep me captive.”

  He shot me a scathing look and dropped the blanket on the couch. “I’m not keeping you captive. I’m afraid if I let you loose at your house, you’ll wind up outside looking for Frankie’s killer.”

  I had to admit that did sound like a good idea.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I lied.

  “Right.” Thorne took my hands and lifted me from the couch. “I’ll call your mother and tell her where you are. In the meantime I’ll show you to my bedroom.”

  “I can’t stay in your bedroom. Where are you going to sleep?”

  “On the couch so I can stop you if you try to leave. I don’t actually have to sleep, remember?”

  He started to lead me up the stairs. Like an idiot, I resisted. Who else but me would resist a hunky vampire leading her up the stairs to his lair—I mean, bedroom?

  “But don’t you have a guest room?”

  “Yes, but my bed is more comfortable.”

  I stopped, forcing Thorne to turn and look at me. His eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn’t place—frustration? Anger? Resentment? Or was it simply Thorne resigning himself to the fact that I was a drunk handful?

  Yep, that was probably it.

  I sighed and shook my head. “Lead on.”

  Thorne deposited me in his room, showing me the bath and a closet with a bathrobe and any other creature comforts I might need—mouthwash, an extra toothbrush.

  He pulled back the covers and patted the mattress. “You’re all set. I’ll call your mom.”

  He crossed to me in a great swoosh of air. Next thing I knew the vampire loomed over me. I leaned back, woozy from the movement.

  “Steady.” Then Thorne picked me up and deposited me in the bed before I could grunt even the tiniest of arguments.

  He brushed my hair from my face. “So violet, those eyes.”

  Then he grazed his lips over my forehead. Next thing I knew, he was gone.

  I laid in the bed for a moment before getting up and opening his drawers.

  “Why are you peeking through his things?”

  “Oh, now you talk, Eugene. You made me look like an idiot downstairs.”

  “I didn’t have to do anything. You did that by yourself.”

  “Shut it.”

  I rifled through the drawers until I found what I was looking for. Pulling out a white undershirt, I shucked out of my dress and shimmied into my nightgown for the evening.

  I lifted the collar to my nose. It smelled of Thorne—musky and wonderful. Satisfied, I brushed my teeth and drank some water from the tap before gliding back under the covers.

  The room spun and I placed my foot against the wall, an old trick I’d learned to keep the world from spinning. Within minutes my eyes were closed and I was out.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning, as Thorne promised, I didn’t feel bad at all—at least not physically. Though I was dealing with a healthy dose of regret that kneaded itself in my head.

  “Uh, why did I have to say such stupid things?” I moaned.

  Eugene was kind enough to answer. “Because, as you said, Thorne’s wine had more alcohol in it than you were used to.”

  The skull sat on the table. It must’ve wiggled off my neck during the night because I didn’t remember laying it there.

  “Thank you for the commentary, Eugene, but it was a rhetorical question.”

  “Rhetorical?”

  If the skull didn’t know what the word mother meant, why did I think it would know rhetorical?

  “Never mind.”

  I rose, stretched, and tried to figure out the best way to sneak out of Thorne’s house without being noticed by him or any of his neighbors.

  Even if I did manage to escape unnoticed, I didn’t have a ride home. Thorne had picked me up from my house. Crap. Looked like I’d have to see him, apologize for being an idiot and pray he asked me out again.

  Wow. Our dates really weren’t going well at all, were they? Maybe it was a sign, a big fat sign that meant we weren’t supposed to be together.

  No way. I didn’t buy that.

  I washed my face, slipped out of his T-shirt, though I admit I almost smuggled it home in my clutch, and readied myself to face Thorne.

  After I made myself look as decent as possible without a shower and wearing last night’s clothes, I headed downstairs.

  “Well, it’s about time you woke up.”

  I stopped in my tracks. That voice didn’t belong to Thorne. My stomach folded over. That voice did belong to a vampire, but not the one I wanted to see.

  By the time I made it downstairs, I found Peek, one of Thorne’s deputies, waiting for me in the living room.

  The vampire took one look at me, folded his newspaper and set it beside him.

  “I would say you don’t look worse for the wear, but that would be a lie.”

  “What are you doing here?” My gaze darted around the room in a desperate attempt to locate Thorne. “Where’s Thorne?”

  “Busy, though he left you breakfast.” A sneer spread across Peek’s face. “But if I were him, I wouldn’t have left you anything. You’d be breakfast.”

  I did my best to hide the shiver that started at my head and zipped all the way to my toes.

  I lifted my chin in defiance. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “No.” His eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t. I care about my friendship with Thorne too much to sacrifice it over a witch.”

  “How kind of you.” I reached the bottom of the stairs and tapped my fingernails on the bannister. “What are you doing here?”

  “I suppose,” he said dramatically, “I’m here to take you home. Make sure you get where you’re going safely.”

  My stomach rumbled. I pressed my hand against it, hoping Peek hadn’t heard, but a nasty smile spread across his face.

  “Looks like breakfast needs a little breakfast for herself.”

  I glared at him.

  He picked up his paper and flicked it open. “Take your time. Eat all you want. I’ll be here waiting until you’ve finished.”

  I held my head high as I stepped past him into the kitchen, where Thorne had left me stuffed French toast. What was he trying to do? Make me fat.

  “Smells like a delicious meal,” Peek commented from the next room. “If I didn’t drink blood, I’d eat it myself.”

  I grabbed a drink and set at the counter. Absolute heaven hit my taste buds. What was Thorne, a chef on the side? I guess it made sense he’d know how to cook. Vampires had a world of free time on their hands.

  Okay, maybe not free time but time nonetheless. He didn’t have to sleep, so he could stay up all night learning trades.

  I tried not to wolf down the cinnamon and creamy cheese stuffing that Thorne had pumped the toast full of. No point, really, because it wasn’t like I wanted to spend time with Peek.

  I also didn’t want to call Mama and deal with her attitude about me having spent the night at Thorne’s house even though I spent it face-deep in his bed.

  But the quiet of my breakfast apparently was too much for the vampire in the next room.

  “So…what do you hope to accomplish by dangling your living flesh in front of my friend?”

  I wiped my mouth. “I’m sorry?”

  His voice drifted into the kitchen loud and crisp. “What I mean is—do you hope to see him fall? Want to experiment with what it’s like to have a bloodsucker boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “That’s…none of your business.”


  I heard the paper get tossed onto the couch. The air blurred, and suddenly Peek stood right beside me.

  My eyelids flared, but at least I managed not to gasp in surprise. Peek opened his mouth wide enough for me to see his fangs and understand that this was a warning.

  “I came to this town because I believed my friend was wrongfully punished. He allowed a woman to become one of us—a woman who should have been instructed on our existence before she was at the point of dying.”

  He meant the woman his father had loved. Thorne turned her into a vampire so she could live forever. The problem was, the rule his father, Leopold, had set was that no person could become a vampire without their membership, so to speak, being voted on.

  Thorne had committed the deed so Leopold could be with the woman he loved. In doing so, he’d worked expressly against Leo’s wishes and wound up sentenced to serve in Witch’s Forge for the foreseeable future.

  To a vampire, I’m pretty sure that meant forever.

  I wiped my mouth. “You want to protect your friend. I get it. But I’m not the enemy, Peek.”

  He sneered.

  “You don’t like witches.”

  “I tolerate witches. Witches and vampires have never gotten along.” He pulled a stool toward him and sat, never taking his creepy eyes off me. “I remember a time when witches experimented on us. Used our blood in potions. Tied us up and cut us to see how much pain we could take. How much blood we could lose before we expired.”

  I grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “So you see,” he snapped. “I’m a little bit unsure of you, if you must know the truth.”

  “For good reason.”

  His gaze darted over me, and I could feel every inch of it. Peek staring at me felt like small pinpricks dancing across my skin. I shuddered.

  “But you should know,” I said after shaking off my discomfort, “that I’m not here to hurt Thorne. I didn’t even like him when we first met. I have my own problems with vampires—my own issues. Your kind isn’t exactly high on my list, either. But”—I elongated the word, making sure Peek knew it was important—“Thorne is an upstanding person. He fights for what he believes in, and that means something to me.”

  Peek smiled but there was no warmth in his eyes. “Just make sure he’s fighting for what’s right and not for someone who will stab him in the back.”

  His words spread through me like poison pulsing in my veins. I narrowed my eyes and filled my voice with ice. “I’ll have you know that I have no intention of stabbing Thorne in the back. If I were him, though, I’d be watching my so-called friends. It seems one side is intent on not getting along with the other.”

  He tsked. “Such venom, Charming Calhoun.”

  I rose and glared at him. “I reserve my venom only for those who’ve earned it. Now.” I brushed my hands. “I’m finished here. Would you please take me to my house?”

  “As you wish.”

  “And do us both a favor.”

  Peek straightened his collar. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t speak to me on the ride over.”

  He smirked. “Done.”

  We reached the house a few minutes later. As soon as I entered, the house shot out a coatrack for my purse, which I hung on one of the arms.

  Rose’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “Charming, is that you?”

  I groaned. The last thing I felt like dealing with was Rose. “Yes. It’s me.”

  She appeared in the doorway, her cheeks red and her eyes wild. “I’ve been so worried about you, what with being alone with that vampire. I thought he might’ve turned you into a smaller version of himself.”

  Pig pranced up beside her and snorted in agreement.

  “Not so lucky,” I said. “Where’s Mama?”

  “Oh, she’s out getting a reverse potion in case you want to drink our blood.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s not happening. I’m still me—a witch. Not a very good one, but a witch all the same.”

  Rose exhaled. “Thank goodness. I mean, you never know with these things. Even if it wasn’t Thorne who turned you, we’d still have to do some sort of reverse spell to see who had turned you into a vampire. You know each vampire has their own special blood.”

  I looked at her in confusion.

  She patted my hand. “Well, maybe you don’t know that. Anyway, we’d have to get a sample of the vampire’s blood and make a customized potion so that we could turn you back to a witch. And even then there’s no guarantee that it would work.”

  I stared at Rose. Not because she blabbered on, though that certainly helped, but because she’d given me an idea.

  “Rose, do you think it’s possible to find out who worked a spell on a particular object?”

  Rose nibbled her bottom lip. “It depends. You can’t always do it and it’s tricky. If it’s something that’s dead, there’s no way—like a dead chicken, for instance. Or even if someone put a spell on a vine. But if the creature is alive, you may be able to see through its eyes and go back to find out what happened.”

  My heart rate jacked way, way up. “Can you work such a spell?”

  Please say yes. Please say yes.

  “Heavens, no,” Rose said, shocked that I’d even ask. “Your mother may be able to, but the sort of folks that dabble with peeling the layers back on someone’s memory usually work with the darker sort of magic.”

  Even though it wasn’t the answer I was looking for, I still grabbed Rose by the shoulders and gave her a big kiss. “Thanks, Rose! You may have just solved the mystery of who killed Frankie.”

  She palmed her cheek and grinned. “Well if I have, you owe me one. I could really use your help with this new girdle spell I’ve been working on. I’m trying to make the girdle so that anyone who wears it appears slimmer.”

  “Oh? And it’s not working?”

  Rose shrugged. “I can’t tell.” She eyed me up and down. “I need a subject that’s a little more hippy than myself.”

  I rubbed my lips together, reining in my anger. “Sure, Rose. I’d love to be your hippy subject. When I can, that is.”

  “Oh, bless you, Charming.”

  I grabbed my purse from the coat tree.

  “Where are you going?” she said, alarmed. “You just got home.”

  A slow smile spread across my lips. “There’s no time to waste. I’ve got a murder to solve. If I’m going to be rid of Eugene, I need to get on it.”

  I said goodbye and headed outside to my car. I bleeped it unlocked and sank onto the seat.

  “What are we doing?” Eugene asked. “What’s your plan?”

  I glanced down at the skull hanging around my neck. “Eugene, how good are you at playing hide-and-seek?”

  He sputtered. I guess the question baffled him. “Well, I don’t know.”

  I put the car in drive and slipped from my spot. Determination filled me from head to toe. “Time to find out.”

  Chapter 18

  “What exactly are we looking for?”

  Eugene and I stood on Frankie’s front steps. I scanned the ground. “I need you to find the cockroaches that wiggled from those black roses.”

  Distaste filled his voice. “Cockroaches?”

  “That’s right. If we can see what they saw, we’ll be able to find out who left the flowers. My guess is, that’s the same person who murdered Frankie.”

  “Hmmm. I’ve never thought about it. It is a cockroach, so one looks like all the rest.”

  “These were different—had a black line running down their back. Very distinct.”

  Eugene lifted from my neck. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  The skull zipped into the bushes. The flora rustled. I turned around to make sure Thorne nor one of his goons—I mean deputies—was lurking in a nearby parking spot or anywhere else close by.

  I waited patiently while Eugene prattled on. “Not there. No, that’s not one of them. Get back here, you sucker, let me take a look at you.” And finally, “I found o
ne! Charming, I’ve caught it.”

  That was when I realized I had nowhere to keep the stupid creature. In my rush to get over and find one of the cardboard chewers, I completely forgot to pick up—I don’t know, a mason jar or Tupperware container.

  My batting average for the day was dismal. Eugene rose from the bush, a green leaf stuck in its eye socket.

  I pointed to the not-so-vacant hole. “Oh, you’ve got something in there.”

  He turned left and right. “Where?”

  “Your eye. Hold still.” Then against all that made sense in my world, I plucked the greenery from the tunnel, managing not to vomit. Though I did taste the iron tinge of bile as it surged up the back of my throat.

  I dropped the leaf. “Where’s the cockroach?”

  “Right here.” Eugene pivoted and the cockroach sailed from the bush, its legs swimming in the air.

  I studied the two-inch long terrifying creature. “That’s it. That’s the one.”

  “I may only be a skull, but I have my uses,” Eugene said proudly.

  “Great. Now we need to take it to a friend of mine. She may have an idea of who in this town can help us.”

  “What are we going to put it in?” Eugene asked.

  I cringed. “I forgot to bring something. But do you think we could put it in your eye socket? It held the leaf pretty good.”

  “Hmmm,” Eugene said. “Let me think about it.”

  A few minutes later the cockroach peeked out from Eugene’s empty socket and we were heading over to see my friend Blaire Fireclaw in Fire Town.

  Blaire gave me a warm welcome. She offered a cup of coffee with a shot of gingerbread flavoring.

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  The store was empty, so we set up at a small table she kept in her back room.

  Blaire swept her red hair up into a messy bun. Her green eyes sparkled with interest.

  “Heard you’ve been dating that hot stuff chief of police.”

  I choked on the coffee and grabbed a napkin, nearly spitting half a mouthful into it. “Oh?” I croaked. “You heard.”

  “Mmm hmm. Some folks saw you out.” She patted my hand. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Half the women in this town won’t admit it, but they’d faint if Thorne paid them even a tiny hint of attention. They think he’s to die for.”