Beguiled

by Darynda Jones

  The local favorite had just opened when I got there. I ordered enough food for a small army, or a wolf, either way, and sat at a table to wait. I was minding my own business, updating my status for all three of my followers, when Joaquin Ferebee walked in. Enshrouded in a deep sadness, he wore the same baseball cap, but he was clean-shaven, his tan tactical jacket freshly washed. And he’d decided. He’d resigned himself to the fact that whatever he was searching for, aka his son, could never be found, so he’d made a decision.

  He’d started to sit down when he spotted me. He straightened to his full height, which was a hella lot. Wide shoulders. Menacing stature. A guarded posture that screamed do not fuck with me.

  So, naturally, that was my first inclination. “Mr. Ferebee,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t try to take my arm as a trophy again. I had no backup this time. His words from our first meeting came back to me. Did you send it?

  “You do know who I am.” His words were accusing.

  “No. Well, kind of.” I stood and took a wary step closer. “I just… I found out your name and looked you up. Your son…”

  He took a step closer too, his more of a threat than mine had been, and I readied to run. “What about him?”

  “I can try to help if you’ll let me.”

  His lids narrowed. “How?”

  “My best friend and I have a business. We help people.”

  A server came over, but he waved her off. “What kind of business?”

  “We… we find lost things.” Saying it out loud sounded ridiculous, especially when the thing was his son. His gorgeous son.

  “So the local police, the state police, and the FBI can’t help, but you and your best friend can?”

  I steeled my resolve. “Yes. If you’ll let me.”

  “How? What can you do that they didn’t?”

  “If you’ll take my hand…” I held it out to him.

  He scoffed and shook his head. “This fucking town.”

  When he started for the door, I panicked. “Please, Mr. Ferebee, if you’ll just tell me what you’re searching for.”

  “I thought you already knew.”

  “I know, but… that’s just how it works. You have to tell me. To trust me.”

  Though he hadn’t ordered anything, he pulled out his wallet and tossed a five onto the counter in front of the server he’d waved off. But something fell out of his pocket when he did. A receipt of some kind.

  I ran and picked it up, then went after him, but standing across the promenade was the hunter, his hair starkly white against his black duster. I skidded to a stop, and we made eye contact for a split second. I’d hoped he wouldn’t know me. Know who—or what—I was. If it had been Annette’s hot flash that summoned him to the area, he shouldn’t have.

  Clearly, he did.

  He seemed surprised at first, then pleased as his gaze roamed over me, anticipation glistening in his dark eyes like a boy on Christmas morning.

  I shouldn’t have come out alone. He hadn’t known who I was until we made eye contact. I knew it. I’d given myself away, I just didn’t know how. Or what I did to clue him in. Other than stop short and stare at him, but with his looks, that had to happen on occasion. I hurried back inside just as the server brought my food around.

  “Thank you,” I said, wondering how to get to Annette’s Charger without being kidnapped.

  When I looked again, the hunter was gone. Naturally. Probably lurking in the shadows, waiting to grab me and take me to his master. I could only pray his last name was Bater. It would give me some sense of satisfaction knowing that if this all went south.

  I wasn’t about to risk my life by facing a hunter alone. I took out my phone to call Roane but realized just as quickly I would be risking both of our lives if I did.

  Okay. I could do this. I’d just have to take a shortcut.

  Raising my hand to the server, I asked, “Do you happen to have a back door?”

  On a positive note, I found out that Annette’s Charger cornered like it was on well-oiled rails. I hauled ass all the way home, garnering not one, but two extra-long, extra-aggravated honks.

  I slid to a halt in front of Percy and glanced around before getting out. No hunter that I could see, so I made a run for it. Just as I got to the door, I heard a male voice behind me, and I froze.

  “Ms. Dayne,” the male said.

  I turned to the bespectacled Donald Shoemaker. “Oh goddess.” I sagged against Percy’s front door. “Mr. Shoemaker, what can I do for you?”

  “You cannot conduct business on this premises. It’s not zoned for commercial use.”

  I opened the door and put the food in the foyer. “Don’t tell me: you have a petition.”

  His breath fogged on the early morning air. He snapped a set of papers against his palm and handed them to me. “Signed by everyone in the neighborhood.”

  I took them. “At your behest, I’m sure.”

  “It took some bribing, yes. Some promises I’d rather not have made, but desperate times…”

  After releasing a lungful of air, I unfolded the papers, took a quick look, then refocused on him. “Are you ever going to stop?”

  “Not until you leave town.”

  “You got breakfast!” Annette hurried down the stairs, took one look at Mr. Shoemaker, and gave him a glower that would’ve melted the face off a lesser human.

  Then again, with her newfound powers, she could actually be able to do that.

  “Annette,” I said, steering her gaze toward me, “why don’t you take this into the kitchen?”

  “You sure you don’t need backup?”

  “I’m sure,” I said through gritted teeth. “What with your new condition and all.”

  She frowned.

  I frowned back. “I’d hate for anything to explode.”

  “Oh! That condition.” She made her fingers into two guns, pointed them at me, and clicked her tongue. “Right. I’ll just…” She bent to pick up the food when I came to my senses. Just in time, I might add.

  I dove toward her and blocked her path. “Sorry. I forgot. You could be contagious. I’ll bring these in. You get the plates down.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She did a snort-laugh thing. “Good point.” Girl finds out she’s a charmling and she snaughs about it a day later. I had to admire her gumption.

  I turned back to Mr. Shoemaker. “Mr. Shoemaker… Donald… Can I call you Donald?”

  “No.”

  “The thing is, Donald, this has to stop.”

  “It will. As soon as you leave town.”

  “Why? This isn’t just about Percy. Or about my business. This is about me, and I want to know why.”

  “Defiance?” Gigi asked behind me.

  “Gigi!” I said, surprised. I snapped and turned back to Donald. “Mr. Shoemaker, this is Georgiana, Ruthie’s long-lost twin sister.” I guess I could drop the long-lost part, but it did help explain a few things. Like why no one had ever met her or even heard of her.

  Mr. Shoemaker looked at Gigi like she was the lost daughter of a royal family. He stepped inside and walked to her.

  “Okay, then.” I closed the door and watched as he gazed at her in utter shock.

  “Ruthie,” he said, shaking his head.

  “No.” I hurried around to Gigi’s side. “This is Georgiana, Ruthie’s long-lost—”

  “How is this possible?”

  “Donald.” Her smile channeled the brightest parts of the sun. “I should’ve known you’d recognize me.”

  “You think changing your hair color is going to fool anyone?”

  “Yes.” She tucked her arms over her chest in defiance. “I do.”

  He put his hands over his mouth and laughed, his eyes tearing up as he leaned in for a hug.

  She hugged him back.

  Clearly, I’d missed something. “I thought he was the enemy?”

  Gigi stood back. “He is most definitely not the enemy.”

  “How are you alive, Ruthie?”

 
; “Um…” I held up a finger to correct him. “Georgi. And how did you know it was her?”

  He had yet to take his eyes off her. “Georgi,” he conceded.

  “You’ll have to ask my granddaughter. But first, come in. Let’s have breakfast.”

  They turned and walked arm in arm to the kitchen.

  “We’re feeding our enemies now?” I called out to them, wrestling with the bags. “Why not just invite the neo-Nazis over? Or maybe a gang of cannibalistic bikers?”

  We sat at the table, making sure Annette didn’t touch anything but her own food. Which meant I had to serve her as she smirked. “I could get used to this.”

  “You could get your powers under control. This ain’t a forever thing, shortstop.”

  “Darn.”

  “Okay,” I said, sitting down with my breakfast sandwich just as Roane joined us. The fact that we’d had hot, lusty sex not two hours ago warmed me all over. As did his lingering, appreciative gaze. “What gives? Why isn’t Mr. Shoemaker our most hated enemy? No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  The chief came in, kissed his fiancée on the cheek, greeted the enemy, then dug in.

  Gigi picked at her food. “Let’s just say Donald knows about me.”

  “Clearly.”

  “No, he knows what we are capable of.”

  “Oh. Like…?” I wiggled my brows, and somehow that translated for her.

  “Yes. Like. Do you remember the story I told you about the missing girl and the man I had to kill to save her and Houston?”

  I did. It was before I was born. A little girl had been abducted, and Gigi found her. But she was worried the angry townspeople would tip the kidnapper off and he would kill her, so she sent them in the wrong direction while she and a young officer named Houston Metcalf went to find the girl themselves. They’d managed to get the upper hand and knocked him out, but he came to and pointed a gun at the chief. Gigi acted on instinct. She pushed all of her magics into the kidnapper and snapped his neck.

  “He got the upper hand,” I said. “You had no choice.”

  “That little girl was Donald’s sister.”

  “Oh my God,” I said, stunned.

  The smile he gave her held more devotion than a devout coffee addict. “I’ve been a fan ever since.” He squeezed Gigi’s hand. “But you… you did—”

  “Die. Yes.”

  “Okay.” He nodded as though trying to absorb it all. “Then, if I may ask, how are you here?”

  “Let’s just say my granddaughter is very powerful.”

  He blinked at me and shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Wait. I don’t understand. You’ve been trying to get me out of this house—out of this town—for months.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I was worried about you. I didn’t know what happened to Ruthie, but I knew it wasn’t on the up-and-up.”

  “You knew she was killed?”

  “I suspected.”

  “Did you suspect me as a murderer?”

  “No. I’m sorry. It’s just, she was the picture of health, and then, not only does she get sick, she goes downhill like a bobsledder on winter break? No. I knew something was off.”

  “You’re apparently the only one,” Roane said, still angry with himself.

  Gigi tsked him, then turned back to Donald. “You were trying to protect my granddaughter.”

  “I thought if I could just get her out of town…”

  “Why?” I pointed at him when it hit me. “You may not know who, but you know why someone wanted her dead, don’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Again, I only suspected. Sure, there’s the money, but I had no idea who would get that until you showed up. The only other thing I could think of was Percival.” He glanced up as though to look at him.

  “That’s what we were thinking. We just aren’t sure why. Not that Percy isn’t wonderful!” I hurried to correct. A gentle hum vibrated beneath our feet. Then I remembered something. “Gigi, you guys found Mr. Shoemaker’s sister before I was born. You were already a finder of lost things.”

  She’d taken a bite of a breakfast burrito, so it took her a moment to ask, “Yes, why?”

  “Oh, just something Elle said.” I sat back in my chair. “She thought maybe my powers had a reverse effect and had somehow transferred to you. So instead of me being the finder of lost things because of you, because of my family bloodline, she thought maybe I was the finder and that you got it from me.”

  Gigi blinked in surprise. “Defiance, she could be right.” She looked at Houston. “I was, what? Mid-thirties when we found Donald’s sister? You had just joined the force.”

  He nodded. “A fresh-faced kid who fell in love with a witch.”

  “A much, much older witch,” she corrected.

  Annette reached out for a high-five. “You go, Georgi.”

  Gigi caved and returned the gesture. It was officially the first high-five I’d seen my grandmother give. We were totally rubbing off on her.

  “Before Pania came home pregnant with you, I’d been just a regular witch. I did do spells to find lost things, but they didn’t always work. Or they took us to something close but not the real object. Then you came into the house, so to speak. I could sense your power even before you were born. I think you came into your powers while Pania was pregnant. She chalked up the heat rushing over her and the sudden light-headedness to hormones. We, naturally, had no idea you were a charmling. We would never have dreamed such a thing.”

  Either Mr. Shoemaker knew what a charmling was or he didn’t want to pry. He sat listening, his attention rapt.

  “But the strangest thing happened. I suddenly got better.”

  The chief stopped eating and focused on her, his gaze probably as loving as that fresh-faced officer’s had been over forty years ago.

  “Even on the little things, I could suddenly find items that had been lost for decades. Not like you, Defiance. I was nowhere near as talented as a charmling would be, but my spells started working. They were more accurate. And I became known as a finder of lost things.” Her stunned gaze landed on me. “You did that. From the womb, no less.”

  “Elle was right,” I said, astonished.

  Gigi folded her arms. “I think I need to meet this Liliana Lovett.”

  “I agree.”

  “Wait, what?” Annette sat up, startled.

  “Thank you for trying to protect me, Donald. May I call you Donald?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, Ms. Dayne. You may.” Then he sobered. “But you still can’t hold séances here.”

  “Oh, really?” Annette got her handy-dandy notebook and pulled out a piece of paper. “Because this here business license says we can.” She pulled it taut, snapping the paper in his face.

  The grin that softened his mouth was saturated with mischief. “It was worth a shot.”

  When Donald and the chief started talking about fishing lures, Annette and I zoned out of that conversation and into our own.

  “How are you today, Nette the Jet?”

  She took a bite of a bacon and egg sandwich and thought about it as she chewed. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m good. Better, anyway. It’s all so… so…”

  “Surreal?” I finished for her.

  “Exactly!” she said, perhaps a little too loudly. She cleared her throat and started over. “Exactly. It’s like it’s not real.”

  “Which would be the definition of surreal.”

  “Right. Right.” Her gaze slid past me as she lost herself in thought, only to bounce back just as quickly, resilient creature that she was. “Wait, you have a séance to perform tonight.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” I got up to clear the plates.

  She followed me. “Deph!”

  “Annette, we have so much going on.”

  “Most of the attendees are from the coven. You’ll be among friends. It’ll be like a trial run.”

  “Most?”

  “Yes. We did have a few other inter
ested parties.”

  “Just how many tickets did you sell?”

  “Twelve. And a half. I’ll be there, but I’m not sure I count.”

  “Did you find out where Joaquin Ferebee is staying in town?”

  “I’m just waiting for a call,” Annette said. “Get this. I called his work, said I found his license, and gave them my number to give to him. He should be calling any minute.”

  “And what happens when he opens his wallet and sees his license tucked safely inside?”

  “Crap. I didn’t think of that. Do you think he’ll call anyway?”

  I had my doubts. “I saw him this morning. I really need to find him.”

  “You did what?” Roane asked.

  “I saw him. Joaquin Ferebee. When I went for breakfast.”

  He looked at Annette. “I thought you went for the food.”

  “Nope,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

  He straightened in his chair. “But it was your car.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “because Minerva has mine.”

  “No, she brought it back last night and left with Leo, the guy we helped the other night. Your VW is parked behind Percival beside my truck.”

  “Oh. Well. I guess I committed grand theft auto for no reason.”

  “It’s not GTA if you have a key, Deph. You really must learn the rules.”

  “You went out by yourself?” Roane asked, his voice slicing through the air. Everyone stopped talking and turned toward us.

  “You told me he saw Annette. She would’ve been in danger. Not me.”

  “I told you we couldn’t know for certain either way. Defiance, you’re a charmling. You can’t just stroll through town with a hunter on the loose.”

  “I was hardly strolling.” When he deadpanned me, I tried to growl. I failed. “Look. It doesn’t matter. He took one look at me and left.”

  Roane shot to his feet. “He saw you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you saw him?”

  “Really?”

  “Son of a bitch.” He started to head out, but Gigi stopped him.

  “What is it, honey?”

  “He’s back,” he said, grabbing a jacket off a hook in the mudroom.