by Amy Boyles
I nodded dumbly. I’d told Kimberly what I thought, but she reacted as if she hadn’t even heard me. He seems sinister, I said. I’m going to dress up in small clothes and be his magician’s assistant, she replied.
Okay, she didn’t say small clothes, but anyone with eyes who’d witnessed a magician’s assistant’s apparel before knew that there usually wasn’t much to it. I’m sure it had to do with diversion and all that. You know, don’t watch the magician as he performs the trick, look in the opposite direction—that sort of thing.
“So that’s why I’m drinking this ‘skinny mocha,’” Kimberly explained. “I don’t want to put on any extra calories if I’m going to be onstage.”
I nodded. “Sure. I understand.”
She raised her coffee cup and scrunched up her shoulders, smiling gleefully. “I don’t know, Charming. This could be the start of something for me.”
I grabbed her arm. “Kimberly”—my voice filled with warning—“be careful. I wasn’t kidding when I said there’s something sinister about that man. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t trust him.”
Kimberly’s eyes flared in a mixture of fear and hesitation. “Okay, Charming. I’ll be careful.” She turned her nose toward the air. “But I can tell you right now that there’s nothing harmful about him. He’s a dear and I adore him.”
I forced a smile to my face. “I’m sure he seems that way, but I just want you to be careful.”
She scoffed. “But how could there be anything wrong with him if you saw him as my soul mate? Doesn’t that mean he’s good, and good for me?”
She had me. Never, at least not that I knew of, had I matched a person with an evil soul mate. Was that even possible? There was math involved in my magic—matchmaking was the mingling of math and magic—but as for an answer to her question?
I didn’t have one.
“Kimberly, I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about my power,” I said, trying to come up with an excuse. “It does work by matching people.” I floundered. There wasn’t a script to follow in this situation, as I’d never had it arise before.
Ironic, huh? That I wouldn’t know what to say when asked if a bad person could be matched.
Kimberly stared at me, unimpressed. “Uh-huh.”
“What I mean is—anyone can be matched, yes, of course. My power isn’t limited to what sits in a person’s heart.” I sighed. “You’re a good person, Kimberly, and I suppose your heart will only lead you toward another good person; at least I hope so,” I mumbled. “I don’t have control over who pops up in my head; the magic does that.”
While I rambled on and on, Kimberly simply stared at me as if she was unconvinced. I couldn’t blame her for that. If I had been sitting where she was, I was pretty sure it would have taken a lot to convince me that Samson wasn’t my soul mate, either.
But how had he known it was Kimberly? Had he plucked the image from my head? He hadn’t wanted me to pick around in his brain, but had he picked in mine?
“Charming,” she said with authority, “I know you’re trying to help, I do, and I don’t know what you saw in Samson, but trust me, I’ll go slow. It’s not as if I’m going to run away with the circus. I have a life here. Besides, I don’t think I would like all that travel. I’m way too much of an earth witch for that.”
That made me feel better. Kimberly had been so excited about being Samson’s assistant that I’d thought she was flirting with the idea of running off with the carnival, and they’d only met one day ago.
But honestly, nothing would surprise me when it came to Kimberly. She was so eager to find love that she was ready to jump into it head-on. It worried me. I feared she might do something foolish. It was probably a wise idea to keep tabs on her. After all, even though she was trying to put me at ease, there was the possibility that Kimberly wouldn’t heed my warning, and that she would give herself over to Samson, body and mind.
The other side of that was maybe I was wrong about Samson. But I was old enough to know that I needed to listen to my gut, no matter what. If my gut said something was wrong, it was right.
Kimberly smiled and rose. “Charming, it was great talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you at three?”
I raised my cup to her and grinned. “You can count on it.”
After all, I wanted to see what this Samson had in store for Kimberly, and the only way to do that was to follow her.
Charming
“I have a problem,” I said.
It was dinnertime, and Mama, Rose, Pig and I sat around the table.
“Oh, I have a problem too, dear,” Rose said, plumping her pink curls. “This hair is attracting so much attention I’m having to beat the men off with a stick.”
I frowned. “Would these be carnival men who are missing teeth?” I asked.
“Charming,” Mama scolded, “whether or not they are missing teeth is beyond the point. The real point is that they are showing interest.”
“One is missing his front tooth,” Rose admitted, “but to be honest, I think it’s all for show. You know how that carnival is full of magical people.” Rose swiped her napkin over her mouth. “I think they use glamours to look like they’re missing teeth when they really aren’t.”
That sounded fishy. I pushed a pickled beet around my plate. “You’re saying that the carnies are pretending to look more carnie so that they sell more tickets.”
An idea sparked in Rose’s eyes. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but yes, I do believe that’s what they’re doing.”
“Anyway,” I said, circling back to the topic I wanted to discuss, “I touched the owner’s hand and matched him to Kimberly Peterson, but there was something strange about him—something I don’t trust. To make a long story short, I didn’t tell him about his match. But ironically enough, he told Kimberly that they were soul mates and that I had been the one to tell him so.”
Mama’s eyes narrowed. She sucked her teeth and studied me. “You think he picked your thoughts?”
“I don’t know what else could have happened.” I shrugged. “How would he have known who his match was if I didn’t tell him?”
Rose finger fed Pig a slice of cucumber. Pig snorted happily as she chewed. “Perhaps he didn’t pluck the thought out of you at all. He could have been lying to Kimberly.”
I scoffed. “But don’t you think that’s an awfully big coincidence? He singles out the one person I matched him to.”
“Have you considered,” Mama said, “that your instincts about him are wrong? Maybe this carnival owner is a nice man and you caught him on the wrong day.”
I stared at her in answer.
Mama withered. “Okay, so you haven’t. You’re going with your gut, which is smart.” She clapped her hands. “So what would you like to do about it?”
“He’s got her performing as his assistant in a magician’s show this afternoon.”
Mama nodded. “Then it’s settled. We’ll all go to this show and see if there’s something nefarious going on. How does that sound?”
The knots in my stomach loosened. “That makes me feel better. I want other eyes on this. I want to trust my gut, but at the same time I’m feeling insecure about this whole situation.”
“How so?” Rose asked.
“I’m wondering—would I match someone who is bad to someone who is good? Is that possible?”
Mama shrugged. “I have no idea. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that on purpose.”
“Of course not, but I guess I’ve never questioned it before because it seems like all the matches I’ve ever made have been between two decent people. Am I wrong about him, or is the magic itself unconcerned about whether or not a person is actually good?”
As Mama opened her mouth to answer, the doorbell rang. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take up this discussion later,” she said, rising. “Let me see who it is.”
As soon as Mama rose, the house shuddered. The kitchen walls moved back, creating more room, and the small four-seater
table we sat at elongated. Two chairs popped into existence with a crackle that made me jump.
“No need to be subtle, House,” I said sharply.
“Subtle is the very last thing this house is,” Rose remarked. “I can’t remember the last time it made room for more people and was quiet about it.”
“I know. I was being sarcastic,” I said.
“You shouldn’t. Sarcasm will give you worry lines,” Rose said.
“I suppose you have a point.” I pushed my seat back and rose. “But since we obviously have several guests at the door, I’m going to see who it is.”
By the time I reached the front door, Mama had it open. Standing in the frame were Axel, Pepper and that crazy shotgun-toting old lady, Betty.
“What can I do for you?” Mama said.
Axel nodded to me. “We need to see Thorne Blackwood.”
“Well, you won’t find him here,” Mama said. “It’s best if you take yourselves on over to the jail if you’d like an audience with him.”
A pattering of feet from behind made me turn. Pig charged down the hall toward the front door.
“Pig,” Rose called, “get back here.” She grabbed the little swine and smiled at the visitors. “Please excuse Pig; she just gets so excited when there are new folks.” Her gaze swept over the three and landed on Betty. “Why, you look just like a witch I know except you’re much older. Her name’s Betty Craple.”
Betty glared at Rose. “And you sound just like a ditzy witch I know, except your hair is the color of cotton candy. This broad always thought she was hot stuff with the men, but let me tell you, she couldn’t lure an ant onto a stick if she had honey slathered all over it.”
“And what was her name?” Rose asked.
“Rose Calhoun.”
Rose gasped. “Betty Craple, is that you?”
“You got it, kid,” Betty said proudly. “It’s me in the flesh.”
Rose reached for her. “Well, come inside. I want to hear everything that you’ve been up. Tell me all of it.”
Betty hugged Rose back. “I want to know what you did to your hair.”
Rose blushed. “Like it? I just dyed it. I can do yours too, if you want. But first, come inside.”
Rose and Betty shuffled off down the hall, leaving the four of us alone. Mama raised her palms as if to say, I give up. “So it appears they know one another. Would the two of y’all like to come in? I’ve got tea and coffee.”
Axel shook his head. “I want to see Thorne.”
Mama’s gaze washed over him skeptically. “A werewolf and a vampire in the same room? That could lead to all kinds of trouble.”
Axel stiffened. “I have no interest in what he is. He may be able to help us find something.”
“They’re searching for a magical object,” I explained to Mama. “It involves Blake Calhoun.”
Mama’s spine straightened. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I’ll take you to see Thorne personally.” She stepped through the threshold. “Come this way; the bar where the jail is located is only a hop, skip and a jump away.”
A question filled Pepper’s eyes. “A bar?”
I smacked my lips. “Yep, only in Witch’s Forge.” I grabbed my purse from a peg beside the door. “Hold on, I’ll come, too.”
Pepper
Axel was on the warpath even though he had promised me that he would be cool, calm and collected in Witch’s Forge. Well, there was nothing cool and calm about the scowl on his face.
Charming had introduced us to her mother, Glinda, and then we all headed over to the jail. While we were walking, I said in my head, Thorne may not know anything. These seem like nice people, and Betty knows this Rose person.
Axel grunted out loud.
I glared at him. You’re not talking to me.
You didn’t ask me a question, he snapped.
All I’m saying is, don’t go in half-cocked.
I’m not going in half-cocked. The reality is, this vampire is connected to other, very strong vampires who may be able to help us with Blake.
I would have asked him to be nice, but being nice wasn’t going to get the heart fire back.
We reached a bar called the Flying Hickory Stick. Strange place for a jail, I thought. Glinda opened the door, and the rest of us followed.
I saw Thorne immediately. He stood at the bar, talking to the bartender.
The place smelled of furniture polish and smoke. Dark mahogany covered the walls, and amber gaslights flickered from sconces. The place was almost cozy.
“Blackwood,” Axel said, “I need to talk to you.”
Thorne, who had been leaning on the bar, straightened. He leveled a cautious look at Axel. The air thickened, becoming like a blanket that wrapped around everything and everyone in the room.
A man stepped up to Thorne, wordlessly offering backup. From the tingle working its way down my spine, I knew he, too, was a vampire.
“Need help, Chief?” the man asked.
Thorne shook his head. “No thanks.” His silvery eyes grazed over Axel. “What’s this about?”
“It’s about the fact that you’re Leopold Blackwood’s son.”
A nasty smile coiled on Thorne’s face. He splayed his arms wide. “Would you like an audience with my father?”
“No,” Axel growled. “I would like for your father to put us in contact with Blake Calhoun.”
“If my father could do that, don’t you think we would have already done it?” Thorne sneered. “Charming is looking for him, too. I thought I told you that, but maybe what they say about werewolves is true—they’re dim-witted.”
Axel’s face burned bright red. Oh no, this was getting ugly fast.
I glanced at Charming, who looked like a deer in headlights, all wide-eyed and pale-faced. This had been wrong—to come up here and insult the vampire. But sometimes when Axel got an idea in his head, he wouldn’t let it go.
Axel flexed his fingers. “I should have known better than to take a vampire at his word. Your father is on the council. He’s a high-ranking vampire.”
Thorne glared at Axel. His jaw twitched. “So you’ve done your homework. You get an A plus.”
Axel pointed to Charming. “Does she know about the council?”
“Of course she does,” Thorne snapped. “I’m not keeping anything from her.”
Axel smiled and that’s when I knew he had a card to play, something he hadn’t told me or Betty, a nugget of information that could get us in trouble.
I called on my magic, feeling the power flare in my fists. It was a last resort and I hoped not to use it, but it was better to have it at the ready than not.
More than likely this meeting wouldn’t go any more sour than it already had, but Thorne and Axel clearly didn’t like each other. This conflict was as old as vampires and werewolves themselves, no doubt.
“And does she know,” Axel said, “that Blake recently met with your father?”
Charming gasped. The room went quiet, and I felt a chill zing down my spine.
This—this was the card Axel had to play. He hadn’t said a word about it, and maybe he’d been waiting for the information to be confirmed before he revealed it, but either way, from the hanging jaws in the room, this was a bombshell.
Thorne stared at Axel. His silvery eyes almost seemed to turn gold, they were so full of flaming anger.
Axel nodded to Charming. “Did you know that? Did your vampire boyfriend tell you that his father met with Blake? And it wasn’t that long ago, either, was it?”
Charming’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Thorne, is that true?”
Thorne closed his eyes and pressed his lips together in anguish. I could see it dancing across the lines of his face—this had not been the way he wanted to tell her.
His eyes slowly opened. “It isn’t as it seems,” he pleaded.
“Then how is it?” Glinda asked, her voice cold and hard. “Leopold Blackwood promised to help us find Blake Calhoun—he promised. You were there, Thorn
e. You know that as well as I do. And now to discover that they’ve been having secret meetings and that you knew about it? It makes me think that not only is Leopold a traitor to the Calhoun family—my family—but that you are, too.”
Charming’s lips quivered. Her eyes were wet and shining when she looked at Thorne. “Thorne?” she whispered.
The word came out as a plea, and my heart cracked in two at the anguish in her voice.
“Charming, I can explain,” he answered.
“The time for explaining was before it happened, so that we could have been there to confront Blake about his involvement in William’s death,” Glinda snapped. “Come, Charming. Let’s get out of here and leave these vampires to themselves.”
“But—” Charming argued.
Glinda stepped up to her and said in a hushed voice, “I will not be made a fool of. We will not do this here, in front of these onlookers. We have our family tragedies acted out in private, not for all of Witch’s Forge to see.”
Then Glinda took Charming’s hand and led her out of the bar. They left without one word to Thorne. His back straightened, and he stood for a moment quietly, as if putting together what had just happened. Then slowly, very slowly, his gaze lit on Axel.
Thorne spoke in a low, gravelly voice. “I want everyone out of here except for the werewolf.”
My heart ratcheted in my chest. It fluttered so hard that I felt it beat in my throat. “Axel?” I croaked.
Without taking his gaze off Thorne, Axel said, “It’s okay.”
I grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “I’m not leaving you.”
His body tensed, and Axel dipped his head toward mine. His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed; the irises were dark, almost black. “I’ll be okay.”
“Axel,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Go,” he said firmly. “The vampire and I have things to discuss.”