Edward sat heavily on the other end of the couch. “So it was a confoundment spell? I should have detected such a thing when I was placing the tripwires. God’s teeth, I must finally be going senile.”
Nigellus flicked his fingers dismissively. "It was designed not to be detected. That's rather the point."
Leonides stood across the room from the demon, his arms crossed. “Let me get this straight. The Fae somehow anticipated that they would be at the cabin, and placed a magic spell around the place specifically designed to prevent a demon from following a summons inside it?”
“The first supposition seems unlikely,” Nigellus said.
“But as for the rest,” Edward put in, “the confoundment spell is a strategy left over from the last war. One that’s difficult to implement, and that uses up quite a bit of power, I should add.” He looked up at his employer. “I assume you were finally able to find us because we made it past the spell’s perimeter?”
“Indeed,” Nigellus replied.
Edward sighed deeply. “It seems you were right in refusing to listen when I tried to send you on without me, Vonnie. I fear I really am getting senile, because something else has just occurred to me.”
Leonides frowned. “What?”
Again, Edward turned to Nigellus. “You should check her for a tracking spell. Because it makes no sense for them to have guessed ahead of time we’d visit that cabin.”
I stared at him, my body going cold. “You think the Fae... marked me somehow?”
Nigellus made a considering noise. “Plausible. If I may, Ms. Morgan?”
“I... guess so?” I replied as he approached, not really sure what I was agreeing to.
“Take your pendant off,” Leonides said. “Or I suspect I’ll end up healing another second-degree cleavage burn with vampire blood in a few minutes.”
I wavered for a moment—knowing he was right, but feeling a perfectly rational sense of hesitation at the idea of losing the only defense I had against a powerful creature who could use magic against me. Reluctantly, I removed the necklace and placed it on the glass side table.
Nigellus extended a finger and touched it to the center of my forehead—the same place Edward had started to draw the sigil for his misdirection spell. I shivered, feeling a frisson of... something... travel down the length of my body from head to toe. Loops of golden light erupted from my skin in a flash before dissipating into the air around me.
“Shit!” I yelped, leaping up from the couch before I remembered that my legs were still too rubbery to hold me. I fell back immediately, shaking with reaction.
“That’s what a Fae tracking spell looks like, I gather?” Leonides asked grimly.
“Yes,” Edward replied, not sounding any happier about it.
“How do I get it off?” I demanded, imagining I could feel the coils of magic constricting me like snakes, even though the telltale glow was gone.
Nigellus gestured to his servant, which I guess meant that actually getting rid of the spell crossed his hypothetical line of non-interference in the human sphere.
Edward cleared his throat. “Er... yes. Removal. I fear this might be a bit unpleasant.”
A sigh escaped me. “This is going to require more blood, isn’t it?” I asked, overcome with sudden resignation.
* * *
It took almost half an hour for Edward to transfer the tracking spell from my body to his, and then use Nigellus’ power to break it, rendering it useless. By the end, I looked like the victim of a murderous finger-painting class, with blood sigils winding around various parts of my body.
The transfer itself had felt unpleasantly like the invisible snaking lines of power were slithering beneath my skin, and I now felt real empathy for drug addicts who stabbed themselves over and over, convinced they were killing invisible insects crawling inside their bodies.
I battled my questionable equilibrium long enough to take a very quick shower in the guest bathroom afterward. It helped... a bit. It also gave me time to think, and I wasn’t too thrilled with the direction some of those thoughts were taking. When I returned to the living area, it was to find that the others had adjourned to the kitchen, where the tantalizing smell of food was emanating through the door.
“What if the tracking spell is how they were able to figure out which airplane Jace was on?” I asked as I entered. “What if they weren’t following him, and instead, they were following me?”
Leonides had on the carefully blank expression that meant he was pissed as hell about something. “We were just discussing that. It seems unlikely that the tracking spell could have been placed on you while you were wearing your pendant. So the most obvious time would have been—”
“When Ivan kidnapped us,” I finished. “Because I lost the necklace during the fight at the apartment, and while we know Teague was there, I can’t remember any details about what happened with him.”
“All of which means you were most likely tagged already when we drove your son to the airport and escorted him to the departure gate,” Leonides said. “And that’s worrying to me for a number of reasons—not least because Zorah was there, as well, and she didn’t sense anything. She’s usually got some pretty damned acute Fae radar.”
Edward looked up from plating something involving pasta. “Any Fae accomplished enough with magic to set a confoundment spell around the cabin would likely be adept enough to cloak their own magical aura, as well.” He set the plate on the counter next to a neat place setting and gestured at me to sit. “Eat this, dear. You could use the carbohydrates.”
Despite my earlier nausea, I was legitimately starving by this point. I didn’t argue, ignoring the inherent awkwardness of being the only one eating in a room full of people, as I shook out the napkin, placed it in my lap and dug in.
“So,” I said between bites, “I guess if nothing else, we at least know for sure now that it was the Fae, right?”
“Seems pretty clear, yes,” Leonides agreed. “Though I’d like to get a better sense of how far into it Teague is. Did he go after Jace simply as a way to get to you, and indirectly to me? Or is he neck-deep in the other disappearances as well?”
“Perhaps you can ask him yourself,” Nigellus said in a dry tone. “I gather the crowd noise and music coming from the ground floor means you’ve found a new way to goad him.”
“No idea what you mean,” Leonides replied in a flat tone that made absolutely zero attempt to sound innocent.
I paused with the fork halfway to my mouth. “You... can hear what’s happening on the ground floor while you’re in the penthouse?”
Nigellus blinked at me. “Obviously.”
“Um. Okay,” I said after a beat, the pasta still suspended a few inches from my lips. I turned my gaze to Leonides. “Next question. Why is there a crowd downstairs when the club has been shut down for alleged money-laundering?”
“It’s thanks to an acquaintance of mine,” he replied, still in that flat tone. “Or, I guess ‘colleague’ might be more accurate. No point in leaving a valuable Central West End property sitting vacant, after all. That’s just wasteful.”
I thought about that for a moment before setting it aside to pursue later.
“Next next question,” I said. “Are more cops going to come and break down the door to arrest us for... doing what we did to that SWAT team?”
I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘for killing that SWAT team’ aloud. Right now, I could convince myself that none of them had actually died after being shot, burned, exsanguinated, and slammed into random trees. I intended to keep it that way as long as possible, if only so I could prevent the pasta I was eating from making an unexpected return appearance.
Leonides only had so many houseplants to puke in, after all.
The vampire shrugged. “Could Teague send someone here to make a fuss? Sure, I guess... but for whatever reason, that doesn’t seem to be his game right now. And as for the police themselves, first they’d have to explain why they were sending a
SWAT team after an elderly man and a woman with no criminal record and no outstanding warrants.”
I frowned. “But... even so, won’t they be able to trace a bunch of bullets back to your gun? Shooting cops is kind of a big deal, no matter why they were there in the first place.”
“Gun? What gun?” he replied blandly. “There’s nothing in that caliber registered to me.”
It was exactly the same tone he’d used when I’d asked him about the money-laundering investigation.
Vonnie, do I look like someone dumb enough to launder money anyplace other than offshore?
Once again, I was reminded that my erstwhile boss was a man who knew how to hide the bodies, whether those bodies were of the literal or metaphorical variety. I was fairly certain that knowledge should be bothering me a lot more than it did, to be honest.
“Okay, cool,” I said, and turned my focus back to my food.
Nigellus stirred, rising with the air of someone ready to leave. “Edward and I will be returning to Atlantic City now.” He lifted his chin, meeting Leonides’ eyes. “Contact me if your attempt at poking the wasp nest with a stick yields any useful results.”
Edward shot me a worried glance. “Do try to get some rest, my dear. I doubt I have to say it, but that much magical expenditure in such a short space of time does tend to have repercussions.”
“On a human, perhaps,” Nigellus observed in a drawl.
“Don’t be condescending, sir,” Edward shot back, his voice mild. “I can’t recall seeing you quite so taken aback in recent memory as when she unleashed her magic at you—not for a fair few decades, certainly.”
Nigellus raised a supercilious eyebrow. “There is a reason vampire blood is one of the most valuable commodities in the three realms. Do come along, Edward.”
Edward sighed and set aside the dishtowel he was holding. “Of course, sir. Goodbye, Vonnie. Until we meet again.”
I set down my fork. “Goodbye, Edward. And thank you. For everything. I’m really sorry about the whole ‘people shooting at us’ thing. It seems to be an occupational hazard around me lately.”
Edward chuckled. “Don’t mention it, my dear. Ever since World War I, I tend to discount anything less destructive than a howitzer. The damage was easily fixed.”
With that, the pair departed. Silence settled over the kitchen, and after a moment I returned to the last few bites of my meal. When I was finished, I lifted my gaze to meet my boss’s dark eyes.
“Right,” I said. “Now that they’re gone, I want to hear more about this pointy stick you plan to use on the hornets’ nest.”
ELEVEN
LEONIDES NODDED. “Are you over the post-battle shakes yet?”
I slid off the kitchen stool I’d been sitting on, testing the steadiness of my knees. Between the shower and the carb-loading, I felt considerably more like myself than I had earlier.
“Seem to be,” I said. “On a scale of one to falling over, this barely rates a three.”
He gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Good. In that case, it’s probably easier to show you than tell you. Let’s take a trip downstairs.”
I shrugged agreement, following him to the front door and then, into the elevator—not at all sure what I expected to find in the former home of the Vixen’s Den.
The elevator dropped smoothly, covering the eight floors separating the penthouse to the ground floor in under a minute. It settled with a ding, and the doors slid open to the sound of laughter and conversation overlaid across smooth notes of jazz.
I stared at the familiar elegance of the club, with its low lighting and inviting atmosphere. Even the faces were the same. I caught my breath as I noticed Kat behind one of the bars, chatting and laughing with a customer. The smell of Len’s tapas wafted from the double doors of the kitchen as a server swept out with a tray balanced in one hand.
“What...?” I asked, still standing frozen inside the elevator car.
The doors started to close, and Leonides reached out to stop them.
Maurice was stationed as usual beside the elevators, surveying the floor and keeping an eye out for trouble. He turned, flashing us a quick smile that formed wrinkles in his wide cheeks.
“Hey boss—” he began, before seeming to catch himself. “Sorry. I mean... hey, Mr. Leonides.”
“Good evening, Maurice,” Leonides answered without batting an eye. “Patrons behaving themselves tonight? Not that it’s really my problem anymore.”
“They seem to be, yeah,” Maurice said. “You two here for a drink? Or are you back on the job now, Vonnie?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I replied, after floundering for a second or two. “But, yeah, a drink sounds about right at the moment.”
“You heard the lady.” Leonides headed toward Kat’s station, clapping Maurice on the shoulder as he passed. I followed in his wake, dying for answers.
“What did you do?” I demanded.
Leonides didn’t look at me as we continued to stride toward the bar station where I’d first learned how to mix a White Russian. “I sold the building to an acquaintance of mine—private deal, cash, no contingencies. She immediately terminated the Den’s lease for non-payment, and opened a new club called The Brown Fox. After which, it only made sense to hire back all of the old staff, since they’re already trained.”
I came to an abrupt halt, heedless of the patrons milling around us. “You sold your building?” I asked in disbelief.
He stopped as well, turning back to face me. “It’s not the only building I own, Vonnie. Besides... it’s got fire damage.”
Maybe I was making progress, because I didn’t blush at the casual mention of my most recent humiliation.
“But you live here!” I blurted. “It’s your home!”
A look of genuine perplexity crossed his face. “I’ve lived lots of places. And besides, I only had Gina terminate the Den’s lease. Not the leases on the penthouse or the other apartment units.”
I stared at him. “I am so incredibly confused right now.”
He indicated with a jerk of his chin that we should start walking again. Since a stiff drink was waiting for me a few short yards away, I complied.
“It’s pretty straightforward,” he said. “The Vixen’s Den is gone. I’ve got no stake in, or connection with, the Brown Fox—except that I happen to rent an apartment in the same building, and enjoy an occasional drink here. And my former employees are all being taken care of.”
Realization dawned in a slow wave. “Meanwhile, Teague is going to go ape-shit when he finds out. Everything is exactly the same as it was before he closed you down, only now he can’t use the club to get to you, because it’s not your club anymore.”
He gave a little salute of agreement with one eyebrow just before we bellied up to the bar, silently confirming everything I’d just said.
Kat smiled at us like the sun coming out. “Heya, boss—” she cut herself off, just as Maurice had done. Her smile turned sheepish. “I mean, good evening, Mr. Leonides. Heya, Vonnie! Where’ve you been hiding out these past few days, anyway? We missed you.”
Ridiculously, I felt the burn of tears prickling behind my eyes.
“Evening, Kat.” Leonides shot me a sidelong glance. “I think Vonnie needs a bourbon. Though hopefully this time, we can limit it to one.”
Kat gave me a knowing look. “Ah. One of those nights, huh?”
“Apparently,” I managed.
Being here as though nothing had happened felt surreal. It occurred to me that Kat had no idea Jace had been kidnapped. She knew I had a kid. I’d talked about him some when we were working together or hanging out after shift. But the idea of trying to spill the entire story to her, here and now, felt utterly overwhelming.
I just... couldn’t do it. How would I even start that conversation?
Hey, so, good to see you back at work, Kat. I’d’ve been here earlier, but evil faeries stole my son from a plane mid-flight, and then I had to go try and learn how to control my crazy new
magical abilities after I got shot by the Russian mafia and drank vampire blood to heal myself.
Yeah... no.
“So... new club name, new boss, huh?” I asked instead. “How’s that working so far?”
Kat slid my drink across to me and shrugged. “Gina’s cool. She’s over there in the corner booth, talking business with some guy who’s probably got a higher net worth than every bartender in St. Louis combined. You should get him”—her gaze flicked to Leonides—“to introduce you.”
I nodded with an ambiguous humming noise that could have been agreement or not, and sipped my bourbon. I knew I couldn’t afford a repeat of my previous attempt to drown my supernatural sorrows in booze, but that didn’t mean the temptation wasn’t there.
“You’re doing okay, though?” I asked instead. “Everything’s good?”
Kat’s expression turned wistful and faraway for a moment before she pasted on another smile. “Yeah, babe. I’m good,” she said. “Things are good now.”
I set the bourbon aside, half-finished, and covered her hand with mine on top of the bar. “I’m glad,” I said truthfully, remembering in vivid detail the night Kat’s stalker ex had come after her with a knife in the alley behind the club.
She twisted her hand around until she could lace our fingers together and squeeze mine for a moment before releasing me.
“You’ve got dark circles under your dark circles, hon,” she said, in a much quieter voice. “If you need to talk, find me, okay?”
“Okay,” I lied, forcing steadiness into a voice that wanted to break. “Sure. Same to you, yeah?”
“Sure,” she lied in return. “So, you coming back soon to help me keep this crowd well lubricated?”
I forced a smile and picked up my bourbon. “Not sure yet. And, I mean... don’t you think this place could use some fresh blood behind the bar?”
Her expression turned wry. “On reflection, you’re probably right.”
Vampire Bound: Book Two Page 8