Witch Cast (A Mackenzie Coven Mystery Book 3)
Page 2
“Strange. I don’t recall you discussing it with me.”
“That’s because I didn’t have to. Rory was only too happy to take over my shifts.”
“So the fact that I own the pub and manage it doesn’t entitle me to know what my staff get up to?”
“We didn’t want to concern you with minor details.” Lexie adjusted her necklace and tried not to think about where it had come from or how much it cost. She could guess her mom had had a hand in choosing the diamond necklace as well as the above the knee black cocktail dress Lexie had found when she’d returned home.
A timely gift, as she hadn’t given any thought to what she’d wear to the event her cousins had roped her into attending. The last time she’d had to up the ante, in other words, do a complete overhaul of her jeans and t-shirt wardrobe, her mom had come to the rescue, but Lexie hadn’t wanted to risk Morgana and Jonathan bumping into each other so soon after their last encounter, so she’d refrained from asking for help.
Lexie slanted her gaze toward Jonathan.
She needed him tonight.
After jumping in at the deep end... twice now, there was no way she’d walk into an unknown situation alone.
Catherine had assured her the cocktail party fundraiser had nothing to do with strange happenings. Mirabelle had been her usual guarded self. And that had triggered Lexie’s suspicions.
“You’re getting very good at avoiding straight answers,” Jonathan murmured.
Lexie harrumphed. “Me? Maybe I’ve been hanging around you too long.”
“You were going to tell me why I had to come along tonight.”
“I haven’t seen you tugging your tie or trying to loosen your collar, so you can’t be that uncomfortable.”
“My silence didn’t give me away?”
“I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn I don’t trust them.” Lexie patted her necklace, the gesture now automatic. It felt too heavy to be fake and if she lost it...
“You don’t trust them? That’s a bold statement. Is this a spur of the moment decision or have you been mulling over it since the first time your cousins put your life at risk?”
Fool me once, Lexie thought and then remembered they’d already managed to fool her again. Surely they wouldn’t try it a third time...
“They insist everything is above board, but you said it yourself, I don’t exactly belong in this... milieu. They must want me here for a reason.”
“I’m willing to bet the reason is staring at us right now.”
Lexie’s gaze ricocheted around. “What? Where? Who?”
“Relax. Nothing but a shadow.” He nudged his head upward. “Up there on the balcony, next to the second column. Nope, it’s gone now.”
“What did you see?”
Jonathan chuckled. “A dark shadow.”
“It could have been anyone. Look, there are people coming out to the balcony. They’re chatting, laughing, drinking... If there was any danger, they wouldn’t be there.”
“My mistake then. But I’d swear I saw a pair of bright red eyes staring down at us. Maybe it was someone dressed in black and wearing rubies.”
Lexie stepped back to get a better view of the balcony. She couldn’t sense anything and she knew she had some sort of extra sensory power. If there had been something, she would have picked up on it... felt a presence the way she had with the Inky Black Fog that had nearly killed her.
Hearing Jonathan’s soft laughter, she growled. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“Come on. Let’s get this over and done with.”
“Wait. I have to run through my cover story.”
“I thought you said your cousins had been short on background information.”
Yes, and not for the first time. She was becoming quite good at improvising... “People are bound to ask who I am and how I’m connected to The Garland Theater.”
“That’s a no brainer. You’re here on behalf of Morgana Mackenzie. She’s well known in the theater world...”
Lexie shook her head. “I spent ten years denying my heritage, do you think I can just blithely declare my connection to Morgana and not break into a sweat?”
“I’ve never heard you complain about this before.”
She hadn’t... until recently. Until she’d learned her mom was the current High Chair and she was to follow in her footsteps. Lexie tilted her head and wondered if she could get a special discount for therapy. Two for the price of one since Luna wasn’t showing any signs of recovering from her recent experience.
“Big shoes to fill?”
“Huh?” Surely he hadn’t heard her. Jonathan couldn’t tap into her thoughts. He couldn’t because... because... Lexie could feel heat pouring into her cheeks. “What do you mean?”
“It stands to reason. Everyone has high expectations,” he said, “You’ll be taking over and when you do, there’ll be no room for error. The coven can be unforgiving. Scratch that. They are a bunch of uptight hags.”
“Feel better now?”
“Yeah, I do. Thank you for asking.” He smiled at her. “Come on. I’m getting thirsty.”
As they strode up the steps, Lexie noticed Jonathan giving the balcony a surreptitious glance.
Had he actually seen something...?
So far, so good.
Everything appeared to be... as normal as a glitzy gathering could be.
Lexie drew in a breath. “Even the air smells different. A heady mix of personalized perfumes, colognes, and money. Lots of it.”
“And not a single off the rack suit in sight,” Jonathan agreed. “It always makes me wonder how all these well to do people appear from out of nowhere. You don’t see their type around the streets every day.”
“Not unless they’re in disguise.”
“So... do you sense anything?” he asked.
“Huh?”
He shrugged. “You know, do you feel something in the air. A malevolent force? A disruption to the timeline continuum?”
Lexie snorted. “Have you been watching Star Trek?”
His jaw muscles twitched. “Who told you about that?”
“Dead giveaway, Jonathan. You take your vacations at the same time as Comic-con.”
The edge of his lip lifted.
Lexie looked around the foyer. Catherine and Mirabelle had played an avoidance game with her. She would stake her favorite pair of faded jeans on there being something... not quite right. Why else had they sent her here?
“They’re testing me,” Lexie said.
“Pardon? I missed that.”
“You heard me. They’re putting me through some sort of hands on training and using lab rat techniques to see how I’ll react in uncertain... perilous situations.”
“You said that with a straight face.”
“I’m really trying to take it all in my stride but... I’d like to see how you’d react to Luna turning into a weapon of serious destruction—” she broke off. “Never mind.” She’d promised Luna she wouldn’t talk about the incident. Lexie smiled. “For all I know, this could be Mirabelle’s way of getting back at me for making life difficult for her. She might only appear as a hovering orb but I swear I can pick up on her disapproval.”
“Well, she wouldn’t disapprove of you tonight. You look great. Actually, you look glamorous.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“Do you blame me? You’re the queen of denim and here you are, wearing something that I’m sure has an expensive price tag attached to it. How did that happen? More to the point, how did your cousins talk you into it?”
“I’ve learned to choose my fashion battles.”
“In other words, resistance is futile?”
“Precisely. And you look...” she took in his broad shoulders and easy stance, “Smashing in an annoyingly effortless way.”
He laughed. “Is that a backhanded compliment?”
“I know you waited until the last minute and just threw something on. Whereas I had to sweat ov
er every article of clothing. My hair and make-up took an hour to do and it involved asking one of my neighbors for a favor because if I’d been left to my own devices I’d be standing here with a scrubbed face and my hair poking out.”
“It sounds exhausting.”
“That, my friend, is an understatement.” Lexie adjusted her necklace. “It’s strange you noticed what I’m wearing. I thought you were one of the few who can see me in my coven outfit.” Her true colors, apparently. A gift from her cousins on her last birthday. The coven dress had come beautifully gift-wrapped and had included a pilgrim’s hat. No matter what she wore, anyone who belonged to the coven could see her in her witch’s outfit. Something Lexie had only discovered after it was too late. All part and parcel of rejoining the fold.
“Someone’s making a beeline for you,” Jonathan said.
“Alexandra Elizabeth Mackenzie, how marvelous to see you again. I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Huh? I don’t know her. Do I?” Lexie said under her breath and focused on the woman approaching them. The foyer was a sea of people; conversation flowed in a musical rhythm highlighted by tinkles of laughter, yet the woman’s voice had wafted toward her loud and clear.
Jonathan nudged her. “Smile and pretend you do know her.”
The woman approaching them looked like a doyenne of... everything. Lexie scoured her rusty memory banks for a helpline but nothing came to mind. She even tried to picture her wearing ripped jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt because she knew from experience that she had trouble remembering people when they appeared from out of nowhere in an unlikely... unexpected place. Nope. She definitely didn’t recognize the woman dressed in a beaded black dress.
“Constance, my dear. When you have a moment...”
“Yes, yes. In a minute.”
“There you go. Her name is Constance.”
“Constance what? And where am I supposed to know her from?”
“Alexandra.” Constance air kissed her. “Thank you for coming.”
Lexie gave her a brilliant smile. “I would not have missed this for the world.”
Constance rested her bejeweled fingers on Lexie’s hand. “I promised I would do everything in my power to help you out.”
“How kind. I would expect no less from you,” she improvised and thought her response sounded polite enough without necessarily suggesting she was committed to whatever Constance had promised to help her with. She hoped.
Constance patted her wrist. “You are such a lovely creature. How could I not? But why are you not drinking? This is a night for celebration, my dear.” Constance clicked her fingers and a waiter appeared.
For a wild moment, Lexie wondered if the waiter had simply been hovering nearby or if Constance had actually... clicked him into being. Was that where she knew her from? Growing up she had completely tuned out to the point of not even knowing her own mom was the High Chair of the American Continent and all Circumferential Domains Pertaining to the Mackenzie Coven. In fact, she had done her utmost to ignore her heritage and everyone and everything associated with it.
“Champagne. Yum.”
“It’s so refreshing to see you haven’t lost your... uniqueness.”
Lexie accepted a glass and despite her recent experience with the beverage, she took a sip. “Pretty glasses,” she said admiring the stylized flowers that appeared to be hand-painted.
Constance gave her a tight smile. “We do our best. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must mingle.”
“That didn’t go so badly,” she murmured against her glass.
Jonathan hummed. “Vintage champagne. Perrier Jouette Belle Epoque. Not bad at all.”
“How do you know what type of champagne it is?”
“I know because I’m in the liquor business.”
“Your average customer swills beer.”
“I see you still haven’t memorized O’Connor’s extensive wine list.”
Lexie felt a blush bloom on her cheeks. From the first day working at O’Connor’s, it had been clear she sucked at waitressing, getting orders mixed up being one of her minor offences. So she tended to stick to the bar, staying away from the chic restaurant which had an old world charm to it with a large fireplace at one end, antique tables and chairs, mullioned windows and wood paneled walls. The original building dated back several hundred years and Lexie suspected there was a story behind it all, perhaps even a connection to the coven. From the first day, she’d felt right at home at O’Connor’s but she’d assumed it had had something to do with Jonathan’s easy manner.
“I have a good mind to test you on a regular basis until you learn it,” Jonathan threatened.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I might even make it a condition of your ongoing employment at the bar.”
“I was never any good at memorizing lines,” her voice broke, “My mom traumatized me for life when she insisted I join her theater group.”
“How did you agree to that?” Jonathan asked.
She gave him a lifted eyebrow look, which suggested she hadn’t exactly agreed. “She was missing one understudy and suddenly I was it, and she became someone I don’t wish to ever encounter again. When it comes to acting, Morgana can be unforgiving.”
“Are you breaking into a sweat?”
Lexie fanned herself.
“And did you just wink at me?”
Lexie groaned. “The twitch is back. See what happens? All those years ago, I lost sleep and developed a nervous twitch. It was never enough to simply learn the lines ‘So foul and fair a day I have not seen’... oh, no. She insisted I take breathing classes because apparently I had the bad habit of gasping between words. I turned into a nervous wreck. Of course, being my mom meant she didn’t let up. Instead of good night, dear, it was ‘Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, she strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.’” Lexie gasped. “I hate Macbeth.”
Everyone fell silent.
It took a moment for Lexie to realize everyone had held their collective breaths.
Someone dropped a glass.
“I’m guessing you said something you shouldn’t have.”
Chapter Three
“Why are they all staring at me?” Everyone, including the waiters had speared their gazes at Lexie and they were not letting up. “Is there a spotlight shining on me? Do I have something on my nose?”
“Nope.”
“Then... What... Why...” She took a stumbling step back. “Hey, they’re throwing daggers at me. Not literally, but I can... Ouch... I can feel ‘em.”
“What do you expect? Even I know you’re not supposed to mention that name in a theater.”
“What name? Macb—”
A collective gasp had her taking another step back.
“Yeah, that’s the one and, no... I wouldn’t say it again.”
“It’s a play. For heaven’s sake. What am I supposed to call it?”
“What everyone else calls it, and again, even I know better than to utter the name inside a theater. If you have to refer to it again, just call it the Scottish play.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You want to test them? Go ahead.”
“I... I... Good heaven’s, did someone just hiss at me?”
“Here, have another glass of champagne. You sound upset.”
Lexie took a quick sip. “It’s not as if I invoked the man himself. He’s a fictional character—”
“Will you please reserve your opinions,” a woman nearby complained, “This is a theater.”
Jonathan cupped Lexie’s elbow and led her to a quiet corner.
“Seriously?”
“I guess I’m here for your protection. That group over there appears to be about ready to rise in dissent.”
“In dissent? What do you think they’ll do, hiss me to death because they’re too polite to get into a fishwives’ quarrel?”
“Precisely. And try to remember we don’t know who these people really are.”
Lexie patted her necklace again.
Still there.
“I think everyone is overreacting.” She looked around them and then up at the ornate ceiling. “It’s not as if the heavens are going to open up and swallow us whole.”
“Any time you’re ready, I think we should make a discreet exit,” Jonathan suggested.
“We can’t,” she said distractedly, her attention still on the ornate ceiling.
“What do you mean?”
Lexie took a long sip of her drink. “I promised.”
“Could you expand on that, please?”
“I’m supposed to stay until the end.”
“Why?”
She had no idea.
“Lexie, is there something you’re not telling me? Are the wenches holding something over you?”
She tried not to think about it because after two glasses of champagne it was all bound to come out.
“You didn’t blindly agree to come here tonight. No one can force you to do something you don’t want to.”
“I think that ship has sailed. Or have you forgotten my birthday?” She’d spoken the words that had acknowledged her cousins and after that, there had been no way of getting rid of them or turning her back on her heritage.
“My inheritance.” Oops.
“This is about money?”
“Well... sort of.” Her cousins were using her inheritance as a toe the line carrot. One misstep and she’d never be able to tap into the money her dear great aunt Tillie had left her. She’d already been told it would only be an allowance, giving her enough to live on. She suspected this would free her up to carry out coven duties and whatever torturous activities Mirabelle could concoct. So far, these had included dealing with strange situations, as in, things that went bump in the night.
Jonathan pushed out a breath.
“You sound relieved.”
“Of course I am. If it’s about money then it’s not about something else. You know, something otherworldly.”