Magic and Mayhem: Once Bitten, Twice Shy (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Have Wand, Will Travel Book 2)

by Teresa Reasor

  “That’s a very progressive stance, Mr. Stewart.”

  Arthur shrugged. “There has been a time or two in the past that I would have welcomed a helping hand, and there was never one there because of what I was. I want my people cared for.” He folded his hands together. “To get back to Phoebe…She is very dear to me. She is my daughter in every way, including the blood that runs through her veins.”

  Shit. Hunter struggled to suppress the expletive. Arthur’s message was loud and clear. No pressure there. “I understand.”

  “She will insist on accompanying you on your interviews. I will consider it a personal favor to me if you will allow her to do so. She needs to be an active participant in fighting for her life. If she’s forced to remain here in a passive role, she will either go mad or do something rash.”

  She didn’t seem rash at all. She seemed driven. But he didn’t know her that well…yet. “I’m not certain my boss will agree to that.”

  “I have already discussed this with Vladimir, and you will be receiving a text with special permission.”

  “So I surmised when you greeted me as Agent Knox.”

  “I know every vampire in my district. You aren’t one of them. So I called Vladimir.”

  Shit. He needed to talk to his boss ASAP. Vlad at least owed him an explanation for breaking his cover. Damn him.

  “I would rather Phoebe not know what agency I work for, Mr. Stewart. She will probably be more open to answering my questions if you keep it between us. Suspects and victims alike hear the words National Vampire Security Council and automatically go into cover-their-ass mode.”

  “Phoebe has no reason to do that. She’s the victim here. Even if I avoid telling her, she’ll discover it herself, if she hasn’t already. She’s very resourceful and shrewd.”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t be surprised at all, sir. She seems very…capable. But the other thing is, I work best alone.”

  “Perhaps it’s time you learned to share the workload.”

  “It’s a conflict of interest for her to investigate her own case, and if it goes before the National Council, they will be able to throw it out because she had access to the evidence. It will muddy the waters.”

  “All she wants to do is find Trevor Ricci and get the poison antidote. Who would work harder than she will? She has a stronger incentive to find him than anyone else, because her life depends on it.”

  “I’m aware of that. But, and I don’t mean any disrespect to her or to make light of her situation when I say this, her life is not the only one at risk here. If Trevor Ricci has discovered a poison that can kill us, there is nothing to stop him from selling it to others who wish to do the same to their enemies or their competitors. And should the humans gain control of it…”

  “We have thought about all that, Mr. Knox.” Phoebe spoke from the doorway.

  He’d been so intent on his effort to talk Stewart out of her joining him, he hadn’t heard her and Luke arrive.

  Phoebe thrust her fingers through the thick strands of multicolored hair around her face and brushed them back. She looked paler with the darkening circles beneath her eyes and the growing bruise on her neck. “I have something no one else has that might help us hunt Trevor down.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I drank his blood at the wedding two days ago. I may be able to track him.”

  * * *

  PHOEBE WATCHED WHILE Hunter gripped the steering wheel with exquisite control, changed gears, and increased the speed. The Jaguar raced down the curving mountain road with the grace of the powerful jungle cat for which it was named. The heavily leafed trees on either side flashed by, while moonlight threw splotches of shadow over the windshield.

  “The chances you’ll be able to track Trevor are slim,” he warned.

  She could practically feel the anger wafting off of him.

  “Why are you opposed to trying?”

  He glanced at her. “I’m not. I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  They both knew it wasn’t what had triggered this taut, controlled resentment.

  “I have an appointment at Have Wand, Will Travel with Calamity’s boss, Zaira. If you can drop me there, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I thought they were off the case.”

  “They are. This is something else I’m following up on.”

  He shot her another quick glance, but turned toward town as soon as they pulled onto the main road. Once he reached the agency’s parking lot, he whipped into it, put the car in park, and turned off the engine.

  “Thanks for the lift. I’ll go my own way from here. Arthur need never know we parted company. I know he’s given you enough information to start with, and I hope it will lead you to something helpful.” She released her seat belt and reached for the door handle.

  Hunter grasped her arm. “You really expect us to go our separate ways?”

  She studied his masculine face. “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?” He eyed her with interest.

  “Because you’ll stand in my way.”

  His brows rose and he pointed at himself with a long, blunt-tipped finger. “I’ll stand in your way.”

  “Yeah. Men can’t help themselves. Everything is about ego to them. And right now you’re pissed because you’ve been told to drag me around with you. My time may be short, and my temper’s even shorter when it comes to bullshit. So I’m relieving you of your burden. You go your way, and I’ll go mine. The first vampire to find Trevor can inform the other.”

  “And you’re here to see Zaira because?” he asked.

  “She’s a witch. A very powerful healing witch. I don’t expect her to be able to heal me, but she may buy me a few extra days.” There were other things she hoped to try that had occurred to her during the long hours she’d spent obsessing over her situation. She’d discussed them all with Zaira.

  She opened the car door. By the time she stepped out of the vehicle, Hunter was beside her.

  She studied him for a long moment. His gray gaze remained steady on her face. Her stomach did a slow tumble, and an insistent tingle ignited between her legs. How could she respond to him physically with this poison ravaging her system? She knew it was. She’d been so weak this evening, only Arthur’s fresh blood had made it possible for her to rise.

  “I think I’d like to stick around to make sure you’re okay, during and after the spell she’s going to try.”

  Damn. She’d hoped he’d get his fine ass back in the car and drive away. She strode toward the front of the building. “I’ve let you off the hook. You don’t have to stay.”

  “Your sire put you in my hands for safekeeping.”

  She humphed, turned, and stalked across the parking lot.

  Hunter caught up to her in a nanosecond. “You don’t think I can keep you safe?”

  “I don’t think I need you to.”

  “You couldn’t defend yourself against Trevor, could you?”

  She stopped. A quick rush of anger left her cheeks prickling with heat. She had defended herself and Arthur, but she couldn’t tell him about it. “Not after the initial poisoning. No. But there’s nothing to keep me from ripping his throat out now.”

  “We need the poison and information about it beforehand, Phoebe. We men may be all about ego, but women are driven by emotion. Do you really trust yourself to meet him face-to-face and not rip his face off?”

  “I think I can keep it together until I have what I need. After that, I don’t want you around to interfere with me while I do what I need to do.”

  “After we have what we need, I’ll lock the door and stand guard until you’ve exacted your revenge.”

  She studied him long and hard through narrowed eyes. Damn him. She was well aware of her weaknesses now. And the truth was, she needed his help in case she found herself too debilitated to go on alone. “Swear on your sire’s life.”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “I swear on my sire, Vladimer Tepes’, life, I will allow y
ou to exact your revenge on the man responsible for poisoning you.”

  “Vlad Tepes is dead. He can’t be your sire.”

  “It’s interesting that you know your history, but that was his grandson.”

  “I want to meet him.”

  “You don’t believe me?” he asked, his smile one of open amusement.

  “No. I don’t.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t even know me, and have already decided I’m a liar.” He reached for the door and opened it for her.

  He might be a liar, but she couldn’t fault his manners. “You don’t know me either, but you’d already decided I was going to be a burden before we left the house.” She shrugged. Her shoulders were aching after just that small movement. In fact, her whole body was aching.

  Christophe Bakas, Zaira’s vampire boyfriend, was hanging out in the reception area. His dark curly hair tumbled across his forehead in handsome disarray, and he smiled at Phoebe while approaching her with an extended hand. “It’s good to see you, Phoebe. Zaira is preparing for the spell. I thought I’d hang around in case either of you needed my help.”

  “Thank you, Christophe. I appreciate it.”

  Zaira’s dog Cerbie padded his way down the hall. The Jack Russell was shaped like an overstuffed tube sock with a nose on one end and a stubby tail on the other. Cerbie wiggled his way up to Phoebe and rubbed against her legs in a bid for attention.

  She leaned down to rub him behind the ears and spoke to him. He did his funny growl, grunt thing which meant he was in a state of utter doggie bliss, his tail vibrating like a tuning fork.

  When Phoebe moved into her house, she planned to get a dog. A pet would provide company and unconditional love, and would never pass her off to someone else. “You got any buddies who need a home, Cerbie?” she asked. The little fellow sat down in front of her and cocked his head, as though giving the question some thought.

  She straightened when Zaira appeared in the doorway. “I’m ready for you, Phoebe.”

  She turned to Hunter. “You can stay here with Calamity and Cerbie until we’re done.”

  “I don’t think so, Phoebe.” He bent to allow Cerbie to sniff his hand, but his attention rested on her.

  She crossed her arms and raised a brow.

  “I’m not leaving you, Phoebe.” He gave Cerbie a scratch behind the ears.

  Damnit. He was so intense, with his gray eyes and kissable mouth, and she was so drawn to him. She couldn’t act on it when she might only have a few days or weeks to live. She didn’t need the distraction when she was looking for Trevor. Her husband. The asshat rat bastard.

  “I don’t want to hear a single negative thing while we’re working.”

  He bent his head in a very old-fashioned manner. “Word of honor.”

  She swiveled on one booted heel back to Zaira. “Let’s do this.”

  There were those who believed the undead no longer experienced human emotions or responded to emotional upheaval as the living did. But after she sat down, Phoebe kept her hands clamped on the arms of the desk chair to still their shaking.

  She needed this healing more than she needed blood, more than she’d ever needed anything in her life. Even more than sunshine.

  Zaira’s auburn hair hung down her back in a long braid, its rich, dark color contrasting with her pale, flawless skin. She studied the bite on Phoebe’s neck for several minutes, a crease between her brows.

  Phoebe rushed to say, “It’s poison, Zaira. If there might be any danger to you at all, I’d rather you not try.”

  “There won’t be. I promise. I’m going to attempt to draw the poison free of your system and into a beaker. It will take several minutes and it will probably be very uncomfortable.”

  “Whatever you can do…. I’m willing to take the risk.”

  Zaira nodded. “I worked on this spell last night, and I’ve made it as safe as I can for both of us. I called Zelda to ask her opinion, and she seemed to think it would be okay.”

  The concern on the other woman’s face triggered an unfamiliar rush of fear. Phoebe’s heart began to pound. “She’s supposed to know her magic so I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Zaira turned away to get a ceremonial knife. “Before we do this spell, I’d like to attempt a locator spell. If that’s unsuccessful, I can guide you while you attempt to find him yourself.”

  “Okay.”

  “All I need is a little blood.”

  “I’ll handle that for you, Zaira,” Chris said.

  “No.” Phoebe stood. “We don’t know what concentration of poison is in my blood, and what quantity is harmful. All I did was taste the residue on Trevor’s skin and it nearly killed me, Chris. I won’t ask anyone else to take such a risk.”

  His concern was easy to read. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Zaira touched his arm. “Spread the map out on my desk, Chris. Phoebe can prick her own wrist.”

  Chris and Hunter spread out the map and weighted the corners with small objects from a shelf behind it.

  Zaira handed her a small ceremonial knife. “I need you to cut your wrist just a little and let a few drops of blood drip out onto the map.”

  Phoebe quickly nicked a vein and allowed a small amount of blood to drop onto the laminated surface. She set aside the knife and grabbed a tissue to put pressure on the wound. It would heal quickly. Or at least it would have in the past. She didn’t know if the poison would keep it from happening this time.

  Zaira stood over the map and held her hand over it.

  “From their first night,

  The groom took flight.

  A husband he was to be,

  But now his spouse he does not see.

  The bond is broken,

  The vows a token.

  To insure she may be free,

  Let us see,

  Wherever he might be.

  So mote it be.”

  The small pool of blood moved sluggishly in a swirl, then merged together into a cohesive ball the size of a marble. It perched there, as though held in place by a magnet.

  Zaira looked up, her expression apologetic. “He’s either here in Superstition, or the amount of his blood in your system isn’t enough to track him this way.”

  Phoebe bit back a frustrated expletive. “I suspected as much. But thank you for trying.” She wiped up the blood with the tissue now the puncture on her wrist had closed, and tossed the stained paper into the trashcan next to the desk.

  She and Zaira exchanged a glance. She’d burn it before leaving the office.

  Phoebe squared her shoulders. “I want to try tracking him the way we discussed.”

  Zaira patted the back of the desk chair. “Have a seat.”

  Phoebe wiggled back into the leather seat and closed her eyes, then shook her arms and rolled her neck to relax.

  “Just rest a moment. Try to wipe your mind free of everything weighing on it. You’re in a safe place. A place comfortable and warm.” Zaira’s voice droned on slow and hypnotic as she eased Phoebe into a light trance.

  Phoebe flashed back to the image of Hunter beneath the streetlights, standing so close before they entered the office. She’d been touched by the concern in his expression and the protectiveness of his posture.

  She pushed the strong impression away and wrestled her mind back to focusing on Trevor.

  Zaira’s voice guided her. “Imagine Trevor is standing in front of you.”

  Phoebe visualized his eyes, the line of his jaw, the way his hair fell forward and to the side. Blackness swirled behind her eyelids until his image appeared like a ghost, transparent and insubstantial. He sat at a table or desk talking to someone. He suddenly stopped and looked around the room, as though he sensed her watching him. Goose bumps rushed over her skin, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. Could he sense her? See her as she was seeing him?

  She concentrated on his location. Cream walls, a round table, and the impression of a small space led her to think it might be an inexpensive
room. Light-blocking curtains hung closed next to the table. “He’s northeast, not so far away.” She had no idea how she knew.

  “Are you sure?” Hunter spoke for the first time since they entered the room.

  “A hotel, possibly. Is there a hotel nearby patronized by vampires?”

  “A few.”

  “Not an expensive place. He’s with someone, and they’re talking. I can see the other vampire’s hands. They aren’t Ricci’s. He has fingers like fat sausages.”

  “Concentrate on Trevor, Phoebe,” Zaira urged. “Or you may lose the connection.”

  “He doesn’t look like his normal well-groomed self. His shirt’s wrinkled, and his hair is mussed.”

  Trevor beckoned to someone nearby, and a woman plodded to the table hesitantly. He commanded her to kneel. Her face, young and tender, came into focus. She wasn’t a woman, but a girl of fifteen or sixteen, with an unfocused, distant expression. Oh, no. She’d been compelled. He tilted her head to the side, leaned down, and struck.

  Phoebe’s stomach muscles contracted, and her fingers tightened over the arms of the desk chair. The girl was too young, and had not gone to Trevor willingly.

  The attack that left Phoebe clinging to life replayed through her head, and she gritted her teeth against the overwhelming urge to yell at him to stop.

  Trevor straightened, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and shoved the girl away. She fell to the floor, out of sight.

  He accepted a deck of cards from the other man and began shuffling them. They were playing cards. Playing cards while the girl lay dying because he had fed too deeply. Rage flared along her nerve endings like electricity, and she gripped the arms of the chair harder. The plastic cracked.

  “Phoebe,” Hunter’s voice broke into her concentration with a note of warning.

  She concentrated on the playing cards. She wanted to set fire to them and Trevor. Wanted it with everything in her being. Heat inside her body started to rise, but she beat it back. She would wait until she had the poison. Then he was toast.

  She opened her eyes. “We need to go.”

  Zaira laid a hand on her arm. “We need to drain as much poison from your blood as possible first, Phoebe.”