Of Murders and Mages: Casino Witch Mysteries 1

by Nikki Haverstock

  Tiffany was shrugging on a robe as Vin towered overhead, shouting at her. It was too far to hear the words, but his body language combined with his emotions surging across the room confirmed that he was angry. His anger was red-hot and a sensation that I was getting used to already. Feeling it was starting to be a comfort. I knew he was close and, like a bear, he would run down whatever was in his way.

  Security guards were swarming in the room, and more poured in from a door that I hadn’t seen before on the side of the theater. Three of them were detaining the couple I had spilled food on. The gentleman was grimly rubbing food from his clothing with a napkin, but the woman was glaring at me and pulling to get away from a man holding her arm.

  “Let me at her. She did this on purpose. Yes, you! I see you looking!” the woman screamed, specks of spittle gathering in the corners of her mouth.

  Vanessa pulled me away. “Ignore Cynthia. She’s a loon. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  I hobbled along, rubbing my lower back with a hand. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” How many times had I fallen in the last twenty-four hours?

  Vanessa nodded. “You’re pretty clumsy, aren’t you?”

  I stopped. “No. Either I’m being attacked by a nut or tripped by a cat or some other such disaster. This is not normal.” I leaned over briefly to rub a throbbing knee.

  “Don’t worry about it. I can help you with some magic when I grab my bag from the locker room.” She offered me her arm.

  We headed down the stairs as I leaned on Vanessa until we met up with Vin near the door.

  He looked me over. “What a cluster. Did you get anything?”

  I stared at him for a few counts before I remembered the purpose of being here. “I made some new enemies but nothing to help our investigation.”

  His eyes narrowed as he walked alongside me out the door of the theater. “Enemies? Who should I keep an eye on?” He scanned the attendees now gathering at the door of the theater.

  “No one. I actually offended them earlier when I screwed up their order, then when I tripped, I spilled food on them. Then I threw up on her shoe. I’ve been busy.” Thinking back to the surprise I found in my shoe this morning, I wondered if Patagonia was rubbing off on me.

  “I see.” He looked around at the bedlam of angry or confused patrons and the security guards milling among the crowd. “Why don’t you two go change out of the uniforms. I’m not sure if we learned anything valuable today, but before I can debrief you, I need to deal with this. We need to cleanse the humans and give them a good cover story to believe, then we need to give rebates to the mages. I’ll get everything settled and meet you outside the locker room.”

  I started to turn away, when Vin stopped me with a noise somewhere between a grunt and a cough. I faced him and waited while he struggled to get out what he wanted to say.

  “Hey, Ella, you were right about those three guys. They were running a scam, but you caught them. They are on a one-way flight out of town and will be banned from every magical establishment in the city. You did good this time.”

  “Thanks, Vin.” Vanessa and I headed to the elevator. I felt as if I had been through a marathon, but Vanessa bounced along.

  “That was so exciting. Investigating with you is so much more fun than with Mom or Olivia. They were going to get a huge whiteboard and list all the facts like you see in a movie.” She pressed the button on the elevator and rubbed her neck. “That’s so boring. I much prefer to be out here, getting my hands dirty, and—” She stopped and cocked an ear.

  The elevator door opened, and I stepped inside as a voice overhead announced, “Vanessa Russo, please come to a white courtesy phone. Vanessa Russo to a white courtesy phone.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Probably Mom. I’ll catch up.”

  “Sure thing.” I grabbed a card from my pouch and slid it in the slot before I pressed the button to the floor with the locker room then leaned over to undo the buckle on my shoe. I would rather be barefoot than in those torturous heels even a second longer. I grabbed them by their straps and stood up.

  Immediately, I swayed, little black dots swimming in my vision, and I reached out to clutch the handrail, but my hand slammed against it and fell off. My arms and fingers were heavy, the shoes slipping from my grip. There was a great rushing noise that several counts later I realized was my labored breathing. I lurched forward and fell, unable to break my fall as my head bounced off the floor.

  Patagonia meowed and scratched my arm, the skin splitting open, bleeding but painless. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, but I couldn’t move. Unconsciousness called to me, and it seemed so easy and painless to just close my eyes and sink into it.

  A primal voice in my head screamed that there was danger, that I couldn’t close my eyes, but that didn’t make sense. I was alone and so tired. My raspy voice filled my ears as my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t pull in a breath at all anymore, but that didn’t bother me. I didn’t need to breathe. I just needed to close my eyes and rest.

  The seer’s voice came to me—“You are more powerful than you know, even without training”—while close on the heels was my father’s love. I pushed all my magic into breathing, and a shaky breath tore from my lungs. I pushed off the floor and hauled my body partially through the door of the elevator as the door started to shut.

  Patagonia yowled and ducked into my line of sight, as hazy as it was. She bit my hand, and I pushed again, dragging my body a few more inches out of the elevator. It became my whole world, fighting to breathe, pushing and dragging my body out of the elevator while Patagonia snipped at me and cried.

  It might have been years, for all I knew, but eventually I must have cleared the elevator, because the door stopped closing on me. My whole world narrowed down to just that moment. That breath. I labored on through the moments, one after another, hoping that the next breath would be easier, but I continued to fight for each.

  Patagonia stopped biting my hand, and two strong arms scooped me up like a baby.

  From a great distance, or so it sounded, Vanessa sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you. Vin, help her.”

  Large hands cradled my face and turned me to face him. “What happened?”

  I focused on breathing in and out, not that I had a clue what to say if I could answer him.

  He rushed somewhere, still carrying me, and carefully set me down. Looking into my eyes, he brushed some hair from my face. “You’ll be fine. We’ve got you.”

  I believed him despite the fact that I felt a new emotion from him—fear.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When I woke up on my bed at midnight, I was sore all over, my throat was on fire, and I was still exhausted. Patagonia was curled up against my neck, her purring audible. I was still in the waitress outfit, on top of the sheets, with all my possessions I had taken to the casino in a bag at my side.

  I desperately wanted to keep sleeping, but after a few minutes of flopping around and attempting to find a comfortable position, I decided to get up for a bit. As I moved, every inch of my body ached.

  Peeking out the bedroom door, I spied two of the security guards playing cards in my living room. They were here on Vin’s order. Everything since stepping into the elevator was a blur, but some things were clearer than others. I had faded in and out of awareness, if not consciousness, as Vin barked orders. Auntie Ann and Olivia had been there at some point. Patagonia had meowed the whole time, my anchor to reality until someone drove me to my house and deposited me on my bed. I hadn’t moved until now.

  I was starving, but first I wanted to change. I slipped off the waitress outfit and rubbed my skin where the gold panties had dug deeply into my flesh. I dropped the outfit in a heap and grabbed a pair of flannel pajamas, old and soft from many washings, then a huge terry cloth robe. While I was in the closet, I grabbed a quilt from the top shelf.

  I had made it for my dad when I was in junior high sewing class. It was black and white a
nd made up of hundreds of triangles. They should have been right triangles, but due to my impatience at that age and my lack of skill, most were crooked, and some had extra sides. I had forgotten even making it until I cleaned out his closet and found it carefully folded on the top shelf.

  I put the blanket on the bed and changed. The bedroom was small, with a large door that rolled on a track like a barn door. The space was big enough for the bed, large walk-in closet, and bathroom. It was meant to give a bit of coziness in the otherwise open-air loft. Besides a chair in the corner, the only other piece of furniture was a bookcase.

  I had carefully placed the chest with the note from my father on a shelf next to a picture of us in France. While the shelves held many leather-bound books, there were also mementos of our trips together. Bundles of postcards we had written describing our adventures, framed photos, and small items that I couldn’t resist buying. Next to the photo was an old copy of Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.

  I felt the urge to hold it and sat on the bed to look it over. We had seen the musical several times, and I had even attempted to struggle through reading it. I wasn’t sure how much I had read before I gave up and instead just listened to the soundtrack on repeat.

  Through discussing the story, I had learned a lot about what type of person my dad was. Specifically my father’s appreciation of Jean Valjean refusing to allow another man to go to jail in his place. I had felt that Jean Valjean had turned his life around and so many people depended on him, it didn’t seem fair that he was held accountable for stealing bread for his starving family.

  My father had explained that there would always be an excuse not to do the right thing. You had to commit to doing the right thing even when no one but you and God would know. If you started making excuses for the big things, slowly, there would be excuses for the little things.

  I had seen this attitude demonstrated by my father a thousand times. Whether it was returning hours later to give back money when the street vendor had given our change back with a twenty instead of a five, or helping to change a tire even in the pouring rain, he always took the time. He had returned wallets and purses to their owners and stopped many a pickpocket theft.

  It was obvious now that his ability as a mage helped him see things that others missed, but he could have chosen to look the other way.

  I turned the book over in my hand and opened up the cover, and a card fluttered out.

  Inside the birthday card was a cheesy joke and a brief note. “May this year treat you well. We’re proud to fight with you. Justice is on our side. Your friends, Bear and Badger.”

  I put the card back inside and slid the book back on the shelf. I should read it one of these days. Turning around, I startled and covered my heart. Aristotle was on the bed, grooming Patagonia. If Aristotle was here, that meant Vin wasn’t far behind.

  After tying up my robe and putting my feet into slippers, I rolled open the bedroom door. Vin was closing the front door, and the security guards were gone.

  He caught my eye as he locked the door, a pile of belongings at his feet. “I’m going to stay the night. No argument.”

  “No argument.” My throat was rough, and the words squeaked out. “What did you find out?” I strolled out to the couch and flopped down.

  Patagonia and Aristotle came running in and dove headfirst into a bag.

  Vin grabbed the bag, shooing out the cats and carrying it to the kitchen. “No argument? Are you feeling okay?”

  “Actually no, and that’s why I don’t mind you being here. Please tell me you brought food.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I did.” He went into the kitchen and started pulling out cartons of food and grabbing plates.

  I watched him. He was very comfortable in my kitchen, in my home. “Tell me what you know.” I pulled a blanket over my legs as I curled up with my feet underneath me and leaned over the back of the couch to watch.

  He poured pasta in a thick white sauce into a bowl. “We haven’t been able to find out who paged Vanessa, but clearly it was so you would be in the elevator alone. You were targeted.” He came out of the kitchen to hand me the bowl.

  “And?” I twirled a fork and pulled up long fettuccine noodles. The thick, creamy sauce had more than a touch of garlic. I couldn’t help letting out a little moan of pleasure.

  “And we don’t know a lot more than that. That message kept Vanessa from joining you. There was a nasty little curse set up like a mousetrap. It went off when you got in. We were going to comb the footage, but it looks like everyone and their mom used that elevator, and they might have used a disguise.”

  I finished off the bowl and reached for a peach cobbler that Vin brought over. “Am I okay? I mean will there be any permanent damage?” I winced a bit as I swallowed the crumbly crust.

  “Magically, you’re fine. Mom made sure of it. Physically, you’re a bit beat up but should be better in a day or two. You did good, you know. That really should have killed you, but you fought it.”

  “Thanks. Life-and-death really brings out the fighting spirit.” I grabbed some garlic bread and a few olives.

  “Basically everyone in the casino knows you’re investigating for us, and the killer has guessed what you’re investigating. Taking that into consideration, along with the attack, we’ve decided to take you off this case. I’ll stay the night to make sure nothing more happens, but tomorrow you’ll stay here with some bodyguards. We’ll still pay you, both the money and the information about your father. And Mom still wants to train you, but this is just too dangerous.”

  “What about the murderer?”

  “Maybe they will quit.” He poured two glasses of wine then grabbed his plate off the coffee table.

  “Not if they tried to kill me. If they were going to quit, they would have just disappeared.”

  “Fine, then we’ll catch them. Don’t worry about that. You’ll get paid.”

  I chewed my bread and grabbed a glass of red wine and took a sip. I could walk away. It would be safer, and I could start my search for Bear and Badger. It wasn’t my fault that someone could die tomorrow if we didn’t find the killer. But was that what my dad would do? Was that something I could live with?

  The killer had targeted me, so clearly we were getting close. Maybe I had seen or done something that made them think I was a risk. If I was the only one that was in danger, could they find the killer without me?

  “No,” I said then finished off the glass to steady my nerves for what I was doing. “I’m not staying home tomorrow. I’m going, and we’ll catch the killer together.”

  “You’ll be safer here.”

  “You don’t think you can protect me?”

  “Of course I can, but…” He stared out the window, scrunching his eyebrows up in thought. His emotions had been tightly under control, but just the slightest hints were creeping out. He was pleased and proud. “Fine. We’ll go in together tomorrow.” He stood up and grabbed the empty plates and glasses.

  “That’s it? I figured you would argue with me.” I twisted around to watch him as he put everything into the dishwasher.

  “It’s your neck.” He turned off the lights in the kitchen and went to grab his bags by the door. “Go to bed. You need your rest. Sleep as long as you can. It will help you heal. When you get dressed, pick out something that is your favorite. Something that makes you feel in control and powerful.”

  “We having a fashion show?”

  “Why don’t you just trust me, eh? How you feel affects your magic, and you need every bit of help you can get. You were close with your dad, right? Wear something he gave you. That’ll help. And sleep with your channel stone, and make sure to bring it.”

  I nodded along. I had already slipped on the necklace my dad had left for me, but I had some earrings and rings I could add. “Anything else?”

  “If you’re at all religious, you might consider praying, because tomorrow we are going to need every bit of help we can get.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
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  The next day, I sat in the employee conference room and did my best to look engaged. The white boards all around the room were covered with information about the victims that told us nothing concrete. So far, we had nothing that seemed to get us any closer to finding the murderer or how they did it.

  Since Vanessa and I were banned from Isadora’s Ristorante, we didn’t meet in the Ristorante at a table with a full-time waiter, but instead the bland and foodless room across from the locker room.

  Coming down the elevator before the meeting, I had hesitated until Vin assured me that there were no curses this time.

  When I arrived at the meeting, Olivia, Vanessa, and Auntie Ann had fussed over me a bit before we settled down to comb through the massive amount of information we had collected. As an accountant, I should have been used to the task, but instead I felt antsy and struggled to focus.

  The amount of data they had gathered was overwhelming, but almost nothing seemed to be consistent between the five besides the locations we already investigated. Two were born in March, but the rest throughout the year. Two worked in a casino, but not the other three. All five had used the same elevator, but so had virtually every employee and visitor to the casino, plus we had checked it over several times and couldn’t find anything.

  I was badgered by the feeling that I was missing something important. I specifically had been targeted, so the murderer had seen or heard of something I had done that they felt put them at risk. That seemed like a given, but what? Maybe they were mistaken and thought I was smarter or more talented or skilled than I was. Or perhaps…

  I fidgeted with my rings, spinning them around my fingers. I had on every bit of jewelry I could get away with, all gifts from my father, especially the necklace he had left for me. It was the most meaningful, though the exact meaning I had yet to discover. Perhaps Bear and Badger would be able to help me discover what my father had wanted to tell me.

  I had finished off my outfit with tight jeans that were as soft as butter and cut perfectly to cover my butt even when I squatted. A simple fitted thermal top with funky metal buttons on the cuffs and knee-high leather boots finished off the outfit. Tucked into my cleavage and out of sight was the channeling stone.