by J A Campbell
“I’m Elise.” She balanced the box and extended a hand to shake. He took it awkwardly. Warmth spread up her arm from the clasp. Part of her said she should not trust a stranger, but she needed food and information, and there was something about him that seemed, if not harmless, friendly.
“Darien,” he said.
The name sounded like Italian music. Elise tried it on her tongue and found it delicious. She swallowed.
“What brings you here?” He didn’t look local to Elise, but it was hard to tell.
“My family is here.”
“What a lovely place to be from,” she said and wondered if that sounded patronizing, but he smiled down at her. Rare that anyone looked down to meet her eyes. She guessed he was at least 6’6”. From what she could see past the winter clothing, every inch was beautifully muscled.
Her tongue tied itself in knots.
“What brings you here, Elise?”
“Business,” Elise answered with a smile. No way was she going to tell a local she’d come to ski when she wasn’t dressed for it, and no skiing she’d done to date would prepare her for even the bunny slopes in the Alps.
He nodded.
“My companions and I were walking last night,” Elise said. “We saw a steeple in the lake. My friend heard a bell tolling.”
His eyebrows rose.
“She said it was amazing.”
“Some say they hear the bell from the steeple,” he said. “It is a submerged church from many years ago.”
“Why was it covered?”
Her companion hesitated, and an American voice from the nearby line interrupted. It was an elderly, bespectacled American man, in one of those sweaters her dad used to joke about never wanting for Christmas. This one had ponies prancing across the front. From the man’s age, it may well have been a gift from a grandchild.
“Progress, ma’am. Back in the fifties, the village wanted electricity, so they flooded the area to create a lake for hydroelectric power. That bell can’t ring, though. The clapper was removed before the lake was flooded. Your friend has a very vivid imagination. Hearing that bell is kind of like seeing Nessie in Inverness.”
Elise suspected that was true, for the normals. It was a good thing they discounted so much. The world could be quite a frightening place when you saw everything that was possible.
Melanie had seen Nessie; she recalled her saying so. She suspected the fae saw a good deal more than what most folks could imagine. That vision and willingness to share it was what made her an exceptional musician.
“Most likely, the lake’s frozen clear out to the steeple,” the man continued. “My grandson’s talked about walking out there to take pictures.”
“Thank you,” Elise said. “That was most informative.” She noted the tourist guide the man held.
She turned to speak once more to Darien, but he’d disappeared into the crowd. Elise suppressed a sigh. She wished she could have sat with the man and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the town interpreted from a local’s point of view. She hastened out on the street, hoping she’d see him. Someone as tall as he would certainly be hard to miss in the crowds.
Her sigh gusted in the wintry air. She headed back to the hotel with her now-cooling box of croissants. They’d still be delicious with some tea and provide a bit of brain food so they could begin to plan.
If the ship robbers came back to this town, where would they be? And how would they have traveled so quickly? Could they also use the Ways?
Italy. Why in the bloody hell did it have to be Italy? It’s a big country. You’re not going to run into him.
Melanie hastened through her shower, hoping the noise didn’t awaken Hagatha. Snores resounded over the pounding water, reassuring her. She scrubbed the itchy salt from her skin and still soaped up again.
She turned off the shower, reached for a clean towel, and wrapped herself in it, then quickly dried off and scowled at her clothing. No wonder the desk clerk looked at them oddly when they’d walked in. She must have appeared more tasteless and colorblind than the average American to their Italian host, in her electric blue coat, bright green pants, and purple hat. She chuckled, surprised he’d given her a room at all, but the titanium card and credit limit had said more than her attire, obviously.
She peeked out the door to find Hagatha standing there.
“Whoops, sorry…” she said, coming out in her underwear. “Can you maybe change some colors for me before I go out in daylight?”
Hagatha chuckled and nodded. Instead of changing the colors, black wool slacks materialized between her hands. Melanie tried them on, and the things adjusted to fit. A bit disconcerting, but a tailor could not have done better.
“What color sweater?” Hagatha asked.
“Black,” Melanie answered. Normally she didn’t feel uncomfortable in the nude. She’d had to dress for gigs in a tiny green room with an all-male band. If they looked, nobody said anything to her. Parts were parts: at least, that is what her da, a photographer, had always said. Unfortunately, Hagatha was watching her in her scanties with a wistful look on her face.
When Hagatha offered, she got a long wool coat, hat, and scarf as well. With her boots, which Elise had made in black to begin with, she’d be styling. The coat Hagatha conjured was full length, black wool in a military style. The hat, a matching newsboy. For a lady who mostly wore tie dye and blue jeans, she had a sense of style. Melanie’s style, in fact.
“Thank you, Hagatha. These are lovely. I’m going to scout around and see if I can get replacement phones,” Melanie said. “Is there anything I can get you from town?”
Hagatha shook her head.
“You don’t have to wear that,” she commented when Melanie reached for the engagement ring.
Melanie laughed. “Oh yes, I do. You don’t know Italian men.”
Hagatha’s white brows rose. Melanie wished she didn’t know Italian men. Well, one in particular.
He’s somewhere around Monza, which is nowhere near here. They’d lived briefly in Rome for that summer. His family was elsewhere, somewhere in the mountains, but that was a large area. The odds were against her running into that crowd here.
“Hey,” Melanie said. “You won’t have a passport check, probably. You could go out.”
“I’ll stay around the hotel,” Hagatha said. “We don’t need any more trouble than we’ve already got.”
“If there’s something I can get you…” Melanie offered. The woman had a point. If whoever was going after them knew where they were and knew Hagatha’s passport was missing, Immigrations would be at the door in a heartbeat,—just like that anonymous call to the refugee center about stowaways on the cruise ship.
Hagatha shook her head. “I’m getting dressed and heading down for breakfast.”
“I’ll be back quick as I can,” Melanie said and thought of the one comfort she could offer. “I’ll bring snacks, too.”
She hastened out of the room and headed for the street. Of course, the television in the lounge blared the news of the cruise line’s disaster. It was the worst since the Titanic, the reporter declared. Her mind flashed back to rising above the scene on the helicopter.
The only thing that prevented the disaster from being far worse than it had been was timely communications and modern rescue. The authorities had scrambled all manner of both air and sea support to the wrecked cruise liner to get the victims to safety.
She stopped at the desk and asked the clerk where she might be able to purchase a pay-as-you-go cell phone, explaining that she’d lost hers. Of course, there were several options. She recalled that her uncle’s hotel and tour business in Scotland had needed to aid with lost phones and cameras quite often. She contemplated stopping for a cuppa, but the thought of having to listen to the news hastened her steps out into the cold.
The roar of several well-tuned engines got her blood humming. Nothing like a hot car... Her smile fell when she noted the handsome, raven-haired man behind the wheel of the red Fe
rrari 458 leading a pack of super cars.
“Well, if it’s not my Irish girl.” Aldo Machiavelli pulled to the curb, baring white, even teeth in a grin. “You’re as beautiful as ever…”
“No thanks to you.” Melanie glowered at him, backing away from the curb and hating herself for showing any kind of weakness.
“Came to see me?” he asked, his hand caressing the stick shift suggestively, which apparently indicated he had recovered from their last encounter just fine. “Like a ride? I know how much you love to go fast… I might even let you drive.”
“No thanks.” Melanie pulled her ungloved right hand out of her coat pocket and let the ring glitter in the sun. “Engaged.”
“He’s not here.”
Melanie shook her head at the hypocrisy. When she and Machiavelli were together, if anyone had even looked at her, he’d practically wanted to start a fight.
Sirens cut off her sarcastic retort. A car behind Aldo’s honked, and the whole line blew out ahead of a rescue truck with sirens and lights running.
The street spun eerily. Melanie caught a lamp post and watched the emergency vehicle go by. She took a steadying breath and hurried on her errands, hoping Aldo found something to shift his attention elsewhere. Meanwhile, she needed to check in—and find Elise so she’d know her friend was safe. She queued up behind a Texas man at the kiosk and bought what the band’s security agents would call a “burner phone.”
Oddly, having a cell phone in her hand felt reassuring. She didn’t want to think about the pay-as-you-go International rates she’d have to use. The JM was definitely going to get an expense account for this trip.
She stopped by a grocery and picked up biscuits, candy, and other snacks for Hagatha’s sweet tooth. It never hurt to have snackage on hand to eat in a hotel. She hadn’t made note of any kind of vending.
Now it was time for calls.
First order, the vampire. She dialed Kevin Tallon’s number by heart. She stayed on the street where she had a clear view of anyone who might be listening.
“Tallon,” he answered.
“You in private?” she asked. “And, don’t say who I am.”
“Just a moment, Brianna.” Tallon used the name of his girlfriend and even lowered his voice in that sexy tone a man might use with a woman he was involved with. Melanie heard him excuse himself and close a door.
“What’s up, Boss?”
“We’re in trouble.” Melanie quickly gave him the sit rep.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Tallon hissed. “You need me there?”
“No,” Melanie said. “I need you doing research on the JM records.” She filled him in on what they’d heard from the passengers.
“They still haven’t given us access,” Tallon said. “But your fiancé’s here interviewing the mages. I’ll ask him to speed things up.”
Melanie swore.
“Marcus could be who sent us here.”
“I’ll play it cool,” Tallon said. “Far as he knows from me, you’re still in Colorado getting schooled in magic. I’ve set him up in your office to do the interviews.”
“Fine.”
Tallon chuckled, knowing “fine” meant about anything but. “Hey, he’s been careful with your possessions. Even asked for another chair so he didn’t have to change the settings on yours. He even made note of everything on your desk so he can put it back in the right spots.”
“Bloody hell,” Melanie said. “Give him the keys to my car so he has a vehicle to use instead of a company car. And how about my apartment? You can put him up there. Just take my favorite stuffed lamb off the bed, okay? He doesn’t need to know about McTavish and me just yet.”
“Copy that.” Tallon laughed. His voice went low and sexy. “Brianna, honey, you know I’ll take real good care of you.”
“Thanks,” Melanie said, spotting Elise walking across the street with a box of bakery goods. She waved and called to her as more sirens sounded in the distance. Something big was going on, and it sounded like it was near the lake, from where she stood. “Just keep things going there.”
“Of course, Brianna, honey. Gotta go, the Boss is needing me.” Tallon said, in a voice she knew he’d never actually use with Brianna. “Kiss kiss.”
“Kiss my ass,” Melanie said before hanging up. At this point, she was laughing, knowing he was putting on a show for Marcus, who must be standing somewhere nearby. “You bloodsucking fiend.”
Tallon’s laughter was the last thing she heard.
“Hullo,” Melanie said to Elise. “I got a phone. I had to show my passport for it, so I only got one. Be glad to share it, if there’s someone…”
Elise contemplated the offer and shook her head. “My JM credit card was declined at the bakery. A very handsome local man bought these croissants for me when I didn’t have enough cash.”
“Ooooh,” Melanie said. Then her eyes narrowed with concern. “But watch out for those Italians… they’re hot-blooded, but problematic.”
“He wasn’t Italian,” Elise said. “At least, he didn’t sound like the other locals.” She went on to describe Darien.
“Interesting.” Melanie grinned, noting Elise’s obvious attraction. “If you need anything, we can put it on either of my cards.”
Elise nodded. “Thanks. I shouldn’t have left mine at home. I once charged expenses on my private card and Marcus got annoyed at me. So Hagatha and I have started replacing our cards with the JM ones, just to make sure we don’t have to go through the paperwork and the hassle.”
Melanie shook her head. “I called Tallon and checked in. Grayson still doesn’t have connection to the JM Library, but we’ve given them full access to everything we’ve got, which is starting to feel real unfair right about now. Marcus is there, finally interviewing the mages who work for us. I suppose I’m glad I’m not there, because I would be whining about how one-sided the relationship is.”
Elise chuckled wryly. “You’re the only one who gets by with calling him down.”
Melanie started to say she would be nicer to Marcus if he would actually reciprocate with a bit of trust when another emergency vehicle went by.
“That’s practically everything a town this size would have,” she said to Elise.
Elise pursed her lips, and the women exchanged a glance. An emergency right around the spot where they’d come out of the WayGate? What were the odds?
They turned a corner and came upon a rock shop with some interesting geological specimens in the window. Elise paused to peruse them, her sharp green eyes focusing on what Melanie suspected were the best conduits for magic.
“Hagatha seemed… depressed this morning,” Melanie said. “I know some of it is shock, and being away from home is hard when you just want to curl up…”
Elise nodded.
“You think maybe we should start replacing some of the rocks she lost?” Melanie wondered. Hagatha needed her stuff around her to function. Both of them knew it was ill-advised to move things around in her cluttered tower. She must be near panic now, when everything was so out of her control.
“She stores a lot of magic in the stones she carries,” Elise said and frowned when she looked at her bum roll. “I wonder if she’s depleted herself…”
“I’ve got this,” Melanie said. “I won’t even expense it if you’re worried about Marcus yelling at us.”
“He actually wouldn’t mind for magical supplies,” Elise said as a tall Asian woman strode from the shop. She patted her pocket as if satisfied with a transaction.
“Let’s go in and see what we can find, then.” Melanie opened the door, but Elise still stood outside, her eyes on the Asian woman who’d gone apace down the street. Melanie blinked. For a moment there, she thought she saw…wings? She really needed to find a kiosk that sold shades. Her Oakleys had gone down with her go-bag. The sunlight reflecting off so much snow made her head ache.
“You coming?” Melanie called.
Elise nodded and joined her. Within a few minutes, they�
�d picked out several stones, including a lovely amethyst, lapis, labradorite, and agates.
Melanie paid for the stones, and they boxed them up.
“Just out of curiosity,” Elise asked the woman behind the counter. “Do you know the Asian lady who came in?”
The woman shook her head. “She’s a tourist like you. She had some excellent stone specimens for sale. I bought a couple. Soon as I get them cleaned and through the polisher, I’ll have them out for sale.”
When Elise nodded, Melanie led the way back to the hotel.
A local radio station was playing Euro rock when they entered the lobby.
“I was wondering,” Melanie asked the clerk behind the counter, “can you tell me what all the sirens were about?”
“I don’t know,” the woman replied, shaking her head. “Tourists are always getting themselves hurt.”
You’re an orphan.
Lord Clarion’s words from the last JM meeting resounded in Hagatha’s ears. If she’d drowned, who besides Elise and Marcus would even attend her services? Who would take care of her cats when her reanimated servants failed? Would anyone even remember her? Valonna had killed her mother, Agatha, when Hagatha and Elise were just babies. Agatha had saved them from the nursery fire that had otherwise decimated a generation of necromancer offspring, but Valonna had murdered her in the process. Valonna had also done in Hagatha’s father, Alistair Macrow, the former Lord of House Macrow, years later. Of course, no one could conclusively prove it. Not yet, anyway.
She couldn’t get warm, despite six cups of scalding hot tea. Her body ached like she’d been swimming all night. The hotel clerk had given her a couple of tablets, which she supposed were Tylenol, but they weren’t helping.
Hagatha stared at her third plate from the breakfast buffet. The server gave her a pointed look. She finished up and decided to head back to their room. Elise and Melanie had not returned yet, but she hoped soon. They wouldn’t leave her.
She paused at the television, her eyes widening at the sight of a water rescue—only this time, instead of saving victims of a shipwreck, the emergency personnel tried to pull a kid out of freezing water before the ice cracked around them.