Heart of Malice (Alice Worth Book 1)

by Lisa Edmonds

  Finally, I sensed air and fire magic, as Finchley had said, but it was low-level, and distinctly different from the signature in the library wards. Helen Matson was not the mystery mage.

  I must have swayed or started to fall, because suddenly Sean’s hands were around my upper arms, holding me up. I raised my shields, took a deep breath, and opened my eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Sean asked me.

  I blinked at him, struggling to make my eyes focus on his face. “I’m okay. It’s harder when I can’t touch someone.” It didn’t help that I wasn’t completely recovered from being nulled.

  From behind the door, I heard Helen’s voice. “What’s going on out there? Both of you, get off my property before I call the police.”

  “We’re leaving,” I said. “Sorry to have bothered you.” I turned on shaky legs. Sean guided me back to the car, loading me into the passenger seat before he got into the driver’s side.

  “That’s a negative, then?”

  “It’s a negative.” I rubbed my eyes. “We’re out of suspects. Again.”

  Sean squeezed my hand. “You’ll figure it out. Rest for a bit while I drive us back.”

  “Let’s head to Natalie’s house. With any luck, she’ll have found something helpful in Betty’s files.”

  *

  A wreck on the highway added almost an hour to the drive back to the city. By the time we got back to Natalie’s house, it was well after six o’clock.

  Malcolm had tested the containment spell on the library and pronounced it ready to go. Natalie was looking through the files in Betty’s desk but hadn’t found anything yet that was magic-related.

  When I explained our visits to Robert Finchley and Helen Matson had come up empty, Natalie became understandably frustrated.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I told her. “I’m still certain the magic signature in the wards belongs to a close relative of your grandmother. Keep looking through those files, and I’ll work on the magic angle some more.”

  “I’ll look,” Natalie promised. “If I find anything that looks like it might be interesting, I’ll let you know.”

  I turned to my ghost. “Earring time again, Malcolm.”

  He sighed.

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” I said. “It’s going to be my day off. At the top of my to-do list is working on a masking spell for you.”

  “That is very good news,” Malcolm said, visibly relieved.

  Once Malcolm was contained in my earring, Sean and I said good-bye to Natalie and walked to his car.

  Sean leaned against the driver’s door. “What are your plans for the evening?”

  “I have a meeting with Charles Vaughan at ten. I’m going home to relax for a couple of hours and clear my head.”

  Sean looked disappointed. I knew he was hoping for that date he’d been campaigning for. I’d considered it earlier in the day, but after eleven hours in his company, I needed some space and a chance to think about what I was going to say before I talked to Charles.

  Speaking of which…. “I do have a favor to ask, if it’s feasible.”

  “Name it.”

  “I’m going to ask Charles for help finding a teacher for Natalie.” I explained my reasoning for involving the vampire in the search.

  “Asking a vampire for help is risky,” Sean said, his brow furrowing. “He’ll want something in return, obviously—I’m pretty sure the phrase ‘quid pro quo’ was coined by a vamp.”

  “Probably,” I agreed. “I’m going to make some offers, but I have to be prepared for the possibility he may demand something I’m not willing to give.”

  His eyes darkened. “What do you need from me?”

  I’d been pondering that off and on for the better part of the day and had come up with a plan I thought would help me avoid a confrontation with Charles that might force me to reveal the power of my magic. “A kind of backup. I text you when I go into the meeting, then text when I leave.”

  Sean looked thoughtful. “Bringing someone along with you signifies fear and weakness, but this demonstrates confidence and forethought. It’s proactive, but more defensive. If you’re having to tell him you have an ally awaiting an all-clear message, the situation has already gone south. The idea is to avoid that in the first place.”

  “That’s a good point,” I acknowledged. It was odd to hear Sean speak not as a lover or colleague, but as a werewolf alpha, used to navigating complex and often dangerous political waters. “Do you have another suggestion?”

  “Vampires respect power plays and alliances. I can make you an ally of the Tomb Mountain Pack. If Vaughan threatens you or attacks, he’s taking on the entire pack. Even a member of the Vampire Court would avoid that unless there was no other choice. This way, you go in as an associate of my pack. It’s a move he’ll understand and respect. You’ll be protected, but you won’t lose face.”

  It was my turn to think. “In return, I’ll be expected to aid your pack if asked to do so?”

  Sean looked surprised. “So you’re familiar with the concept of pack ally?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t elaborate. My grandfather’s cabal was affiliated with two werewolf packs, so shifter politics was nothing new to me. “How will we formalize my status as pack associate?”

  “I’ll write you a letter you can display and present as needed,” Sean said. “In the meantime, since Vaughan is a vampire, my suggestion is that I mark you with my blood. He’ll understand what that means from the moment you walk into his office without you having to say a word.”

  An alliance with the Tomb Mountain Pack, even if it was temporary, was undeniably professionally beneficial to me. I was certainly getting the better end of the deal. “Either party can rescind the alliance with notice?”

  “Standard clause,” Sean assured me.

  “Done. How should we do this?”

  Sean produced an engraved pocketknife. He opened it, then drew the blade across the pad of his thumb. Blood welled. “Hold out your hands, palms up.”

  I obeyed.

  Using his thumb, Sean rubbed blood onto the insides of both of my wrists. Without being asked, I pulled my hair to the side and tilted my head. He drew his thumb across my neck at the shoulder, marking me as an ally of his pack.

  Instead of stepping back, Sean cupped the back of my neck with his hand. “You’re off tomorrow?”

  “Yep. I owe Malcolm a masking spell, and if I don’t do laundry soon, I might run out of clothes.”

  Sean’s eyes glinted. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing to me.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He chuckled and released me. “What’s your schedule look like for the next couple of days?”

  I shook my head. “I really don’t know at this point. That’s one of the downsides of PI work.”

  “I understand. Private security isn’t much different. But if we can make it work, I’d like to see you next week.”

  “I’d like that.” I glanced down at his hand. “I was going to offer you a Band-Aid, but it looks like you don’t need it.”

  Sean held up his thumb. The cut was already healing. In twenty minutes, there would be no sign of the wound.

  He leaned down to give me a kiss, pulling me close with one hand on my hip. It was a very nice kiss: undemanding, yet full of promise.

  When we broke apart, he nuzzled my neck and inhaled my scent. I shivered at the feeling of his breath on my skin. “Be safe,” he said quietly. “You can still text me when you’re done, if you want.”

  “It might be late.”

  “I’ll be up.” He gave me a wolfish grin. “I tend to be fairly nocturnal.”

  I laughed. “No doubt.”

  He gave me a kiss on the cheek, then stepped back. “Have a good night, Allie.”

  “You too, Sean.”

  He got into his car and waited until I was in mine with the engine started before he waved and drove away.

  Chapter 16

  I’d hoped to sit and chat with Adri
before my meeting with Charles, but she was at the door checking IDs when I arrived at Hawthorne’s and it was a busy night. We exchanged quick hellos and I went inside to find a table and a much-needed drink.

  I squeezed in at the bar and flagged Pete down to order a beer. He slid it over to me, took my money, and gave me a quick smile before turning to grab a bottle of vodka off a shelf. I took my drink and headed toward my usual booth, hoping to find it empty.

  To my disappointment, it was occupied by a lone man, sitting back in the shadows where I usually took refuge. I sighed and started back toward the bar.

  A familiar voice stopped me. “Ms. Worth.”

  I turned around.

  The man in the shadows leaned forward into the light. It took a moment for me to recognize him in civilian clothes, but I’d know those ice-blue eyes anywhere.

  “Special Agent Lake,” I said, startled. “I wouldn’t have thought this would be your scene.” I wasn’t sure what Lake’s scene would be, but a supe bar owned by a vampire seemed an unlikely place for a SPEMA agent to be spending his off-hours.

  “Hawthorne’s has the finest selection of bourbon in the city.” Lake raised his glass. “The owner is a connoisseur, or so I’ve been told.”

  “That he is,” I murmured.

  He regarded me with raised eyebrows. “Are you acquainted with the owner?”

  Before I could answer, I felt someone come up next to me. Even in my high-heeled boots, Bryan towered over me. “Miss Alice,” he rumbled. “Am I interrupting?”

  “Not at all,” I said, hoping my relief didn’t show. “Am I wanted upstairs?”

  “You are.”

  Lake studied me. I might have been imagining it, but I thought the fact I was here to see Charles Vaughan might have piqued the SPEMA agent’s interest and raised his estimation of me by several degrees—neither of which pleased me. I would rather Lake forget about me altogether.

  “Enjoy your bourbon,” I told him.

  “I’m sure I will.” A small smile turned up the corners of Lake’s mouth.

  I turned to follow Bryan’s enormous back through the crowd, depositing my beer bottle in a trash can as I passed. The enforcer and I walked down the hall and through a door marked Private.

  As we started up the stairs, I said quietly, “You know he’s a fed.”

  Bryan glanced at me. “We are aware. Agent Lake comes in every few weeks, has one drink of good bourbon, and then leaves.”

  “Anybody know why?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.”

  We climbed three flights of stairs, went through another, much heavier door, and entered another world.

  The floor above the bar was soundproofed. I knew there was music blaring downstairs, but I couldn’t hear a thing. The carpet was thick, the lighting dim. It was the kind of understated elegance that would appeal to a vampire.

  I’d first met Charles when I worked for Mark Dunlap. Mark was a longtime associate of the Vampire Court, doing investigative work for them. Most mages steer clear of the fangy undead, since mage blood is particularly tasty for vamps. Some are able to absorb magical energy that way, enhancing their own innate powers, and drinking mage blood can become addictive. There was a lot of mutual respect between Mark and the Court, though, and since I had no particular objection, we’d ended up doing a lot of work for them. It was lucrative as well; the vamps wanted discretion, and they were willing to pay premium rates for it.

  When I left Mark’s firm, I was no longer on retainer for them, but Charles had hired me on a per-job basis to do some work for his businesses and the Court when Mark wasn’t available. I’d proven myself to be trustworthy and capable. Charles started inviting me up to his office for a drink—liquor, not blood—from time to time when I was in Hawthorne’s. He told me my bluntness was a refreshing break from the lies, evasions, and machinations of vamp politics.

  Charles had also made it clear he wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay, but so far I’d managed to steer clear of that particular minefield. I figured if he was that determined, he’d have pressed the issue by now, so maybe his overtures were just one more way for a two-hundred-year-old vamp to pass the time.

  I checked my reflection in the mirror in the hall. I’d dressed up for my meeting in slim black slacks, an emerald-green, cowl-neck sweater, and high-heeled ankle boots, and pulled my hair up. A pair of dangly, gold earrings danced above my shoulders.

  “You look very nice,” Bryan said.

  “Why, thank you, Bryan.” I patted his arm. “We mustn’t keep him waiting, I guess.”

  He led me down the hall to a set of double doors on the end, where two guards almost as large as him stood at attention. He knocked twice with a fist the size of a football.

  From inside, I heard Charles’s voice: “Come in.”

  Bryan opened the heavy door and stepped aside so I could enter Charles Vaughan’s office.

  “Hello, Alice.” Charles stood and came around his enormous desk to meet me. As usual, the strikingly handsome, dark-haired vampire wore an expensive, tailored suit cut to flatter his lean physique and a watch that probably cost almost as much as my house. He would forever appear to be in his early thirties, though no one looking into those ageless eyes would mistake him for a young man. His dark suit, hair, and eyes contrasted sharply with his pallor, but his coloring looked vamp-healthy, meaning he’d probably fed already this evening. His skin, when he took my hands, felt characteristically cool to the touch.

  As he bent to kiss my cheek, he inhaled almost soundlessly, then chuckled softly. My pack alliance had been noted.

  Charles sat back down, and I sank into a leather armchair across from him. Bryan closed the door and took up a position next to it.

  The vampire closed a file on his desk and folded his hands on top of it. “I hoped I might have time to honor your request for a consultation on Thursday, but as I am sure Mr. Smith told you, my meeting ran very late.”

  “Not a problem at all,” I said. “I figured it was a long shot anyway, just dropping in unannounced. Rude of me, really, but I was out and about and thought I’d risk it.”

  “Scotch?” Charles gestured at his extensive private bar.

  “No, thank you. But if you have water, I’d love some.”

  He nodded at Bryan, who went to the bar and pulled out a glass bottle of imported artisanal water. He opened it, wrapped the cold bottle in a cloth napkin, and handed it to me. I sipped the fancy water. The label said its contents were filtered through natural lava rocks in a particular region of Iceland. I couldn’t tell the difference between it and what you got out of a vending machine, but what did I know?

  “I hope you are recovered from your recent misadventures,” Charles said.

  “I am, thanks. I ran into some black wards on Wednesday night, and on Thursday, I had a spell fail and got burned by uncontrolled magic.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Horrifying. Your job is dangerous at the most unexpected times.”

  “There’s always an unpredictable element when magic is involved. Even the best of us can be surprised. The case I’m currently working on started out pretty straightforward but has quickly turned…interesting.”

  “It would seem so, if you encountered both black wards and uncontrolled magic in a single day,” Charles said. “I am pleased to see you survived.”

  “It was a near thing, both times,” I confessed. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “And yet, you drink water. Are you sure I cannot tempt you with a fifty-year single malt Scotch? I have looked forward to sharing a glass with someone who appreciates such a fine whisky.”

  A fifty-year-old single malt was an offer I couldn’t refuse. “Well, if you insist.”

  “Mr. Smith, two glasses of the Glenfiddich, if you would.”

  We paused the conversation to watch with appropriate reverence as Bryan took out the bottle, unstoppered it, and poured us each two fingers of Scotch. We toasted each other and sipped. I closed my eyes to bett
er appreciate the taste and smoothness of the whisky.

  “Excellent.” Charles clearly enjoyed both his drink and my reaction. “Simply superb.”

  “Definitely the best I’ve ever had. Thank you very much for sharing it with me.”

  “It is my pleasure.”

  We savored the Scotch a bit more, then Charles asked, “Have you had any contact with Mark Dunlap recently?”

  I blinked in surprise. “No, we haven’t spoken in years.”

  “He was puzzled by your decision to work independently, and hurt, I think.”

  “I know.” I pondered my Scotch. “But I like being my own boss.”

  “Surely it has been difficult to establish yourself as a new investigator,” Charles commented. “Mark has an excellent reputation and connections in both the supernatural and mundane worlds. He told me you did not attempt to steal any of his clients when you left.”

  “I wanted to leave Mark on good terms,” I said a bit defensively. “I had no intention of poaching his clients. I’d still be friendly today if it were up to me, but Mark made it pretty clear he had no interest in talking to me.”

  “Perhaps it is presumptuous for me to say this, but I think you might find Mark’s attitude has mellowed.” He turned his glass in his hands, watching the light reflecting in the amber liquid. “Recently, he mentioned he had heard only good reports on your work. I detected a certain…regret regarding how you parted company.”

  “Interesting.” On the one hand, part of me still smarted when I thought of the way Mark had reacted when I’d told him I was leaving, but years had passed, and perhaps it was time to let that go. I wasn’t sure what kind of relationship we’d have these days. Were we colleagues? Competitors? It was hard to say exactly. Should I pick up the phone and call him? Then again, he could have called me at any point in the past three years if he was feeling regretful.

  Finally, I said, “Well, the next time you speak with Mark, tell him I said hello.”

  “I will do that. What brings you to me this evening?”