Ever yours,
Corvin Hunter, III
It was certainly nicer than an email. Reg felt herself blushing at the amount of effort Corvin had obviously put into it. She would need to put some time into getting herself dolled up for the evening in return. It was obviously more than just a casual dinner. Reg hesitated, then walked over to the main house and knocked on Sarah’s back door. It was a few minutes before Sarah answered it, looking flushed and out of breath.
“Come in, dear, come in. What can I help you with?”
“I was just wondering… what kind of place the Eagle Arms is.”
“The Eagle Arms?” Sarah looked Reg over carefully. “Who is taking you to the Eagle Arms?”
Reg cleared her throat and looked down.
“Corvin?” Sarah demanded. “I’ve told you to stay away from him. No good can come of a relationship with him.”
“We’re not in a relationship… it’s just one date.”
“That’s the beginning of a relationship.”
“It’s not serious,” Reg said. “And besides you haven’t explained to me why I shouldn’t see him. He is a very charming man, and he’s interested in me… what’s going to happen?”
“Any number of things,” Sarah said darkly.
“Like…?”
“He could turn you into a toad.”
“Somehow, I don’t see that happening!” Reg laughed.
“They never do.”
“Sarah. Is it a fancy place? The Eagle Arms? It sounds… dark and British. Do I need a floor length dress? A jacket? Jewelry? Do I need to put my hair up?”
Sarah sighed. “I said to come in. It looks like we have some work to do.”
Which confirmed Reg’s suspicion that she was going to need to go full-formal. Sarah turned out to have the equivalent of a dress shop tucked away in the closets of the main house. Reg had hoped to borrow some accents from her, but hadn’t expected her to have a dress that would be Reg’s size or style.
“I haven’t been fat all my life,” Sarah said, as she measured a dress against Reg. “It’s just one of those things that happens as your body slows down and you settle into eating at restaurants instead of doing for yourself. And hemlines are easy to adjust.”
“Ooh, that’s pretty,” Reg reached out and touched a blue silk gown with crystal beads sewn into it.
Sarah pulled it out of the closet and examined it closely. “Everything seems to have held,” she observed. “Nice lines. You’ve got the figure for it. Give it a try.”
Reg took the hanger and draped the dress over her arm. The shade of blue worked nicely with her complexion.
“I’ll try it,” she agreed.
“I have some earrings that will look stunning with it. And maybe… a small locket to set off the neckline.”
“This is so generous of you, thank you!”
“What are friends for?” Sarah put a few of the dresses she had pulled out back away again. “Did I see the police over at the cottage today?”
“I guess you did. I didn’t see you around.”
“I still see most of what goes on around here.”
“Well, they came by… we had a little discussion about Warren and Ling, and they headed over to McNara to see if they could pick up Ling’s trail.”
At Sarah’s puzzled look, Reg filled in further details.
“Ling went over there last night to see Warren… and never got home. Her family called the police and reported her missing.”
“You sent her over to see Warren? I’m not sure that was such a good idea.”
“I guess I get that now. I just thought… she needed to know that Warren was alive. And I wanted to know if she knew anything about the men that… did that to him.”
“But she didn’t know anything about it,” Sarah guessed.
“No. Nothing.”
“And that ignorance would have kept her safe, had you not involved her.”
Reg sighed heavily. “Things are a lot more complicated than I ever would have imagined. This whole… paranormal world… is very disconcerting.”
“I’m sure it’s very different than what you are used to. Which is why you should ask for help and advice instead of just running headlong into things.”
Reg nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Sarah led her into yet another of the bedrooms and started to go through all of the little compartments of a complicated jewelry wardrobe. She eventually found the crystal earrings she was looking for, and a little heart locket.
“You go shower and get dressed,” she advised. “I’ll be over when you’re done with some appropriate shoes and I’ll put your hair up.”
“You don’t need to do that…”
“Go on. I’ll be over shortly.”
Reg decided to do what she was told. She took her treasures back to the cottage. Starlight jumped off of the couch and looked at her, putting his ears back and opening his mouth like there was a bad smell. Reg raised the dress to her nose and sniffed it, but couldn’t detect any mold or mothballs smell that might be offensive.
“What?” she asked him.
He just continued to look at them with that disapproving, wrinkled-up-nose expression.
“I know you don’t like Corvin either. But I seriously don’t know what your problem is. I don’t know what everyone thinks Corvin is going to do to me. He might be a warlock—maybe—but he’s a man, and I know how to handle men. He’s not going to do anything to me that I don’t want done.”
Starlight sneezed and stalked away. He stationed himself by his food dish and stared at her.
“I’ll feed you before I leave. You don’t need anything right now. If I feed you tuna three times a day, you’re going to be as wide as the couch.”
With that, she left him alone with his untouched dish of dry kibble and had her shower.
Sarah was obviously on the same wavelength as Reg, as she showed up at the cottage just as she finished doing her face and putting her earrings in.
“Let me help you with the necklace,” Sarah offered. “The catch sometimes gets stuck.”
Reg held up her hair while Sarah reached around her to settle the necklace into place and do up the catch securely. She gave it a little pat. “That should do it. Now let’s do something with your hair.”
She had Reg sit down at the kitchen table that so far Reg had not used, and worked her magic. In a few minutes, Reg was looking in a hand mirror at the large knot of braids wrapped with a jeweled net.
“That’s pretty,” Reg admired.
“It’s very elegant,” Sarah agreed, sounding pleased.
Reg angled the mirror to look at her face. “I guess I’m ready to go.”
“Stand up and let me look at the dress. Does the hemline need to be adjusted?”
Reg stood up and showed off the gown that skimmed over her figure like it was made for her. The sweetheart neckline was chic without showing too much cleavage. When Reg checked the length, it was just a smidge too long.
“Maybe just a bit.”
Sarah shook her head. “Actually, I think it will be just right with the shoes.”
“Oh, the shoes!”
“You’re not going out in sneakers or flats,” Sarah informed her. She opened up a shoebox, and Reg almost expected a pair of ruby red shoes. Instead, they were strappy, silver spike heels embellished with sparkling zircons.
“Oh, those are beautiful!” Reg took them from Sarah, sure that they wouldn’t fit. But everything else Sarah had given her had fit perfectly, so why did she doubt it? It was almost like magic.
Reg slipped the shoes on and did them up, and of course they fit like a glove. They raised Reg’s height just enough that, as Sarah had said, the hemline on the dress did not need to be adjusted, just skimming the floor.
“I feel just like Cinderella,” Reg laughed. “All ready for the ball.”
“Just be sure not to get turned into a pumpkin,” Sarah warned, not smiling at her own words. She might be helping Reg with her
outfit, but she still did not approve of Reg having dinner with the dangerous warlock.
⋆ Chapter Twenty ⋆
Reg wouldn’t let Sarah drive her to the restaurant, but instead hiked up her dress and drove herself. Who knew what she would look like when she got there if she let herself get thrown around in Sarah’s jeep. She didn’t need to be showing up for dinner with a bloody nose.
A valet took the car when she got to the Eagle Arms. Reg had never had her car valet parked before, and wasn’t sure about letting someone else have the keys, but peer pressure forced her to accept the service, and she let the young man take her key and drive her car away.
She arrived just before seven and glanced around to see if Corvin were already there. A beautiful hostess stepped up to her. “You’re Mr. Hunter’s party?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“This way, please.”
Reg followed the woman through the main dining room to a private room in the back with rich wall tapestries and flickering candlelight. Corvin stood up to greet her.
“Is this little Regina Rawlins?” he murmured. “My dear, you have outdone yourself.” He took her hand gently and kissed the fingertips, making Reg feel immediately awkward. Who did that? And what was she supposed to do in response? Curtsy?
“Uh… and you look very nice too,” she offered, giving a little bob. He was in a black tux with tails, white shirt, vest, and bow tie.
“Come have a seat,” he pulled a chair out for her, and Reg sat down carefully as he pushed it in.
Reg was feeling warm, though she was sure the climate in the dining room was perfectly regulated. If she was warm within two minutes of walking into the room, how was she going to get through the night?
“You obviously got my note,” Corvin said, seating himself.
“Yes, of course.” A thought occurred to Reg. Should she have sent a note back to him acknowledging it? Was there a proper protocol to receiving a formal invitation? There was bound to be. The gamin who had delivered the note had not stayed, and she had no idea where Corvin lived. But Sarah undoubtedly did. “Sorry… maybe I should have sent something back?”
“Not necessary. Unlike with email communication, I was sure that the invitation was in your hand.”
“Right, that makes sense.”
Corvin motioned to Reg’s glass. “Wine?”
“Uh…” Reg looked at it, remembering her reaction to the alcohol at her last dinner with Corvin. If she didn’t want to be vulnerable to him, she needed to make sure he didn’t get a chance to tamper with her drink, and that she didn’t let herself become impaired by alcohol. “No, thank you.”
He raised his brows. “It’s already been decanted,” he pointed out, an offended edge to his voice. “And it’s not cheap. I know you drink.”
“Not tonight,” Reg said firmly. When he opened his mouth to argue further, she cut him off. “I don’t owe you anything.”
Corvin closed his mouth. He readjusted his position in his seat, stretched out his arms, and adjusted the sleeve cuffs protruding from his jacket sleeves to some exacting measurement. Reg could smell the rose scent, heady and warm. A more eloquent argument than anything he could have said. She almost gave in and agreed to have the wine, but biting the inside of her lip, managed to hold firm.
Corvin poured wine into his own glass; dark red, almost black in the dim lighting of the room. He gave it a swirl and a sniff. “I’ve ordered hors d’oeuvres, but perhaps I should have checked that with you first as well.”
Reg smoothed her dress. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure they will be lovely.”
He studied her, frowning. “You are a puzzling woman.”
“Got to keep up my mystique.”
He leaned back. The relaxation of his body language calmed Reg. She didn’t want the entire date to be a sparring match.
“So, tell me… I am interested in hearing the story of how you discovered Warren, and what you found out about him.”
Reg tried to read him. Was he one of the men who had crashed Warren’s plane and put him in hospital? Or was it just idle curiosity? She still hadn’t decided. Sarah said that there were various warlocks who answered the description Warren had given. But she had also said that Corvin was dangerous. She hadn’t jumped to the conclusion that Corvin had been one of the men who had attacked Warren, so Reg shouldn’t either. Sarah knew the players better than Reg could. She had continually warned Reg against Corvin, but she hadn’t prevented Reg from seeing him, and she hadn’t said that he was the one who had plotted against Warren.
Sarah had also said that it would take a lot of energy to keep Warren bound. Would Corvin be able to expend that amount of effort and still sit across from her looking casual and amused? No sweat on his brow or other signs of exertion?
“Not really much to say,” she said. “He was being held at an obscure hospital under another name, to try to keep anyone from finding him. Confusion charms and a binding spell and all of that.”
“But you still managed to find him.”
“Luck,” Reg said lightly.
“I don’t think luck had anything to do with it. You shook me off your trail and managed to get past all of the wards to make contact with him. And found out… what…?”
Reg considered. “I think you already know what I found.”
He betrayed surprise. “How would I know?”
“He described a warlock who bore a startling resemblance to you.”
“He showed me to you?” Corvin challenged.
Reg reviewed the images Warren had given her the best she could. But as before, she could only find shadowy figures with blurred faces. They had either hidden their faces from Warren, or whatever spells they had put on him had muddied his recollection. The warlock with the long coat could have been Corvin. But he could have been a lot of other men too. There were no identifying features that could exclude Corvin or provide proof that it was him.
“I can’t tell whether it is you or not.”
Did she detect a slight shift in his shoulders? An infinitesimal relaxation? “I didn’t have anything to do with Warren Blake,” Corvin advised. “I rarely have any interactions with non-magical folk. I find it taxing to have to worry about the masks and pretenses required to deal with them without revealing myself. I would rather expend my energy on other tasks.”
“So you don’t know anything about what happened to him or who did it.”
Warren picked up his glass and sipped his wine. “What did he tell you? If he was placed there under such suspicious circumstances, I can only assume that what happened to him was not the simple plane crash caused by mechanical issues that the police thought it was.”
“No.” Reg shifted toward Corvin, aching to give him all of the details. “There were several men. Some kind of illegal enterprise. He refused the job, and they… I guess they decided he was taking it anyway, like it or not. He couldn’t remember what they did to him, whether they coerced him into flying or did that themselves, but they did whatever it was, and crashed his plane afterward. And hid him away where nobody could find him.”
“Almost nobody.”
Reg’s cheeks warmed. “Almost nobody,” she agreed. “Certainly not the police.”
“What kind of job was it?”
“Courier. Moving some kind of product. But he decided it wasn’t what they said it was. Thought it might be drugs or some other illicit trade. And he didn’t want to be a part of it.”
Corvin nodded thoughtfully. “But it obviously wasn’t simply drugs. A drug dealer would have slit his throat and put him in the ocean with his plane.”
“Then who do you think it was? What would they want transported illegally?”
A waiter came in with the hors d’oeuvres Corvin had ordered ahead, a variety of canapés that were not immediately recognizable. Reg would have to be adventurous. She transferred a couple of the small treats onto her plate.
“There are many different things that might be trafficked in the
community that are illegal in the non-magical world or regulated or prohibited by our traditions.”
“Such as…?”
“Ingredients for potions or charms. Relics. What you might call human trafficking.”
“Sex trade?” Reg demanded. “Slave labor?”
Corvin made a humming noise. “Closer to slave labor,” he said, “but the subjects are not always… entirely human.”
“What does that mean?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps we should just leave it at that.”
“You’re going to drop a bomb like that and then expect me to just ignore it? Non-human slave labor?”
“I think it would take much longer to give you a clear picture than you could get in the time we have to discuss it.”
“I don’t need a clear picture. Just an idea. What kind of non-humans are you talking about?”
He shrugged and took another drink of his wine, staring at her without answering.
“Is that what you think Warren was involved in? Is that why they’re trying to keep him quiet?”
“No, I doubt it. It isn’t just unusual to involve a non-practitioner in such a venture. It would be… unheard of. Simply not tolerated.”
“It would be worse to involve an ordinary person than to actually traffic in… non-humans?” Reg couldn’t believe she was even having such a conversation. Before coming to Black Sands, she would have assumed that anyone discussing magic and non-humans was completely off his rocker. Instead, she was discussing it with a self-proclaimed warlock as naturally as if they were talking about cheating on the SAT.
“Definitely,” Corvin agreed. “The trade is… highly discouraged. But involving non-believers would be subject to the highest levels of discipline.”
“What kind of discipline is there for…” Reg wasn’t sure what terminology was appropriate. “People like you?”
“There is a wide variety of disciplinary measures. Everything from shunning or removing someone from their coven or community to… entrancement.”
“Entrancement?”
Corvin popped one of the canapés into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, but Reg wondered whether he was really enjoying it or just using it as an excuse to delay his answer. She looked down at the canapés on her own plate, working up her courage to try one.
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