"Sounds like a plan." I heard the smile in his voice. I love Sam's smile, just thinking of it makes my heart go ba-boomp.
So here I sit on a white fur-covered couch waiting for Zane's private jet to take off. There's fur everywhere. Thank goodness it's fake. I'm not some big PETA person, but I don't like the idea that some fox gave his life for a pillow. It seems so sad.
The PM's taking his own jet. I'm not sure how I ended up alone with Zane. Well, there's his assistant, Georgette, but she's got her head stuck in her laptop and it doesn't look like she's coming up any time soon.
It wouldn't be so bad, but he's so damn touchy-feely and he makes me drink champagne. I've had two glasses and we're still on the tarmac. My poor jet is not far from here. I can't wait to get her up in the air and fly home.
But that will be awhile. For now I have to figure out a way to tell Zane to back off, in a nice way. That whole let's-be-friends speech that we all love so much.
Damn, are those Godivas he has in his hands? Bastard.
* * *
Chapter Five
Saturday, or is it Sunday? 11 P. M. (I'm in time zone hell again. Have no idea what day it is.)
Bournemouth, England
Spells: 4
Charms: 3
Impressed witches: 1
What is it about men and their castles? On the way out of the airport, Zane decided we wouldn't be staying in London.
Instead we're heading out to his country home in Bournemouth. It's supposed to be some kind of seaside resort town.
It feels like we rode in the limo for hours, but I think that's because I'm so tired from fending off Zane's advances. Oh, he's never really forward about it. There's a touch on the knee there, a brushing back of the hair here. Geez. The man is too touchy-feely for me.
We drove by the sea, I smelled the freshness of it, but it was too dark to see anything.
Zane's "country house" is a friggin' castle. It sits on the edge of a cliff. Again it was dark, but the outline of the house seemed to go on for miles when we drove up. The inside is the antithesis of his jet, which is over-the-top opulent.
His home is lavish but in a very homey English way. There's lots of chintz, and flower patterns mixed with suits of armor. But it all works in a weird way.
I don't know why people have to name the rooms in their houses, but I'm in the Daisy Suite. I know, I know. The name brings about visions of bright flowered wallpaper. But in truth the only daisies were in a vase on the bedside table. The room is a soft shade of blue and it's monochromatic, except for the crisp white sheets. The bathroom is a bit over the top with blue and white marbled walls and gold fixtures, but hey. There's lots of vanilla bubble bath so it's not all bad.
I tried to call Sam, but my cell phone isn't getting a good connection here. I'll have to try again tomorrow.
For now, I'm going to catch some z's.
Monday, noon
I've been left to my own devices this morning, which of course means I've done nothing but think of Sam. I've been wondering what he's doing today. And I dreamed about him again last night. This time we were up against a wall and I had my legs around his waist. He had my hands above my head. Oh, yeah baby.
I was so disappointed when I woke up and realized he wasn't there.
Zane's working in his studio, located in the east wing of the house. I hung out there for a bit, while he worked with some of his bandmates on a new song. They were busy and I didn't see any way he could get into trouble.
So, I've decided to take a walk on the beach. The weather's warm, and I could use a bit of nature to recharge.
Oh, while I was trying to find my way back to my room from the studio, I snagged a small table to use as a workstation. I've loaded it with the necessities to track down the people behind Zane's troubles. I've also plugged in my laptop to do some searches. I'm going to look at news stories covering his concerts to see if there are any similarities he may have missed.
I had e-mails from my favorite wizard, Garnout. He's going to be out of contact for a few days. He owns a magical store in Manhattan, but it was closed while I was there. He's says he's checking into a situation. That's his code for "something really nasty is coming down the pike and he's gearing up for a war." I sent him a note that if he needs me I'll be there.
But for now, I'm going outside to gather up some good old Mother Nature and hold her close. After a week in Manhattan, I really need some fresh air and trees.
Tuesday, 1 A. M.
I can't believe how late it is. My body clock is way off the mark. I guess it's okay. Zane keeps rock star hours for the most part. He usually wakes somewhere between 2 and 4 P. M. I've been doing research for the past several hours and just had dinner in my room.
He dined downstairs with the band. Last night they were a rowdy crowd, and though I had fun, I need to get going on Zane's problem.
I've researched some of the articles regarding Zane's concerts and other than the strange sickness, there hasn't been much out of the ordinary. The details of the bodyguard's death were gruesome. The article intimated that drugs were involved, but I don't think it's true. The newspapers here tend to do much more sensational stories than what we have at home. Oh sure, we have some tabloids that do that too, but all of them here seem to be really celebrity-heavy.
And the funniest thing. When I did a search on Zane, two million sites came up. No exaggeration. I clicked on a few and they were shrines to the rock star. Photos, articles, favorite Zane phrases.
But the most interesting and sad thing I found was a story about Zane's brother. The brother and wife were killed in a fiery car crash involving a slick road and a cliff, not too far from this house. Zane had made no comments to the press, but I wondered if there might be some kind of connection.
It only happened a few months ago and I wondered why Zane hadn't said anything. The saddest part is they left a little girl behind, Zoë. I'm curious what happened to her.
Oops, door.
2 A. M.
Spells: 1
That was Zane. He'd spied the light on under the door and decided to see what was up. His room is at the other end of the house, but I didn't bring that up. He acted like he just needed to talk.
"So luv, busy, busy, I see." He made himself comfortable in the squishy chair by the fireplace.
"Kind of. I've been doing some research on you." I pointed to the laptop. "I think your name must be up there in the top two of Internet searches. Right there with porn."
He coughed and laughed at the same time. "Look a little closer, dear, and you may see me in some of those lusty pictures. I had some pretty desperate times in the early days."
"Oh really. Hmmmm. So just how desperate?" I crossed my arms against my chest and waited for an answer. This might be good.
"Well, I had this manager at the time, Roger Harris, who insisted I do every single interview. I was barely eighteen and didn't know better. So when the editor of Glow wanted me naked in bed with three women, I did it. Unfortunately, I forgot that there were cameras involved, and the women, well, were quite proficient and things got very wicked, very fast.
"Of course, once I made some money I bought those negatives for a hefty sum, but they still end up on the Internet every once in a while."
I have to admit I fanned my face at the idea of Zane getting it on with three women. I mean who the hell wouldn't?
"So, we can add porn star to your list of credits. Lovely."
We both laughed.
"Well, there are things I've done that I'm not so proud of." He shook his head. "But I never sold my soul to a demon or anyone else, for that matter. I promise. Don't look at me that way."
I must have been frowning, but it wasn't because of what he'd said. I needed to ask him something important. "I wasn't thinking that. It's just well, look… there's no easy way to ask this. I read about your brother's death." I paused.
Zane's smile melted off his face. His blue eyes looked haunted.
I wanted to rea
ch out to him, but couldn't. I needed the truth. "It can't be easy to talk about, but I need to know what happened. That's the only way I can decipher if the accident had anything to do with your current troubles."
Zane leaned his elbow on the edge of his chair and put his forehead in his hand. "There's no way the two incidents are related. My brother didn't have anything to do with my career. He's—he was a banker. His wife was in advertising. They were on the way to the house when the car spun out of control. It could have been an animal, or just that the roads were wet. The police say the car made several circles as my brother tried to regain control. They could tell from the marks on the road, but he couldn't get it back."
His voice was quiet, somber. I knew he didn't want to talk about it. I also knew he felt responsible, for some reason.
"Zane, why do you feel so guilty? You had nothing to do with it."
He leaned back and stared at me. "I'd insisted we all meet out here to get away from the paparazzi. In the city I can't take a shit without it being front-page news. They didn't really want to come, but it was my birthday, and…"
Crap. His brother died on Zane's birthday. That is major, major suckage.
"Where is their daughter, Zoë? She's mentioned in the article."
He looked up, focusing on the window to my left. "She's at boarding school. She came to live with me for a while. I think she blamed me in some way. She's only eight. I worry about her all the time. I wonder if she'll ever be happy again. I want to know if she's feeling okay."
"I could help you." I don't know why I said it. Maybe because he was so forlorn and I could feel the love he had for his niece. He genuinely cared for the child.
"How?" The shadows eased from his face and he looked hopeful.
"If you have something of hers, I can tap into her mind. I can get an idea of how she's doing. I won't be too intrusive, just kind of a checkup."
He leaned forward. "You can actually see what she's thinking? I thought you felt things, emotions. I had no idea. That's brilliant."
"Yes. But please don't tell the world. Okay? It's not something I broadcast."
A wicked grin spread on his face. "Can you tell what I'm thinking now?"
I snorted. "I don't have to read your mind, you pervert. I can tell by looking at you. Now stop it and find something of Zoë's for me." If I don't know someone well, something tactile helps me find them faster.
He left for a few minutes and came back with a small stuffed monkey. "She sleeps with this when she's here."
Handing it to me, he paused. "Can you really do this?"
"Zane, just give me the damn monkey." I took it from him and closed my eyes. Zoë's elfin face came into my mind. So sweet. A tiny pug nose, long lashes against her cheeks. Sound asleep. I gently nudged her dreams. And I must have gasped because Zane grabbed my arm.
"Bronwyn, stop. What's wrong?" He held on tight. I shook him away.
"Give me a minute." I let the dream play out. She saw her parents happy, talking about a party, but she couldn't go.
"Please Mummy, I promise to be a good girl."
Her mother touched her cheek. "Zoë, you're always a good girl. It's just that this is a grown-up party and Uncle Zane's house can be a little wild. I know it's hard for you to understand. But you'll be so much happier here with Mr. Tuttles and Nanny Bee."
"No, no Mummy. I want to go. I can be a big girl, I promise." Zoë cried out as her parents hugged her good-bye.
"There's my good poppet." Her father smoothed her dark bangs from her face. "We'll bring you back a special surprise. Perhaps something for you and Mr. Tuttles to play with."
Through the large window she watched them pull away. She squeezed Mr. Tuttles, the large stuffed elephant, close. "Stupid heads. They can just go to their stupid, stupid party. I hope a big monster eats them."
Then the tears came and even more so when Uncle Zane came to talk with her. Her mum and dad weren't coming home. They were eaten by a big monster, and it was all her fault.
I opened my eyes and told Zane what I'd seen. "She blames herself for her parents' death. Oh, that poor baby. Sadness and such grief. I haven't ever felt anything like it."
Well that wasn't true. When Sam lay dying in the hospital I experienced those emotions too. He'd died more than once on the day he was attacked, and I took the responsibility of it all onto my shoulders. I'd felt like hell. And it was more than any child should ever have to deal with. I couldn't stop a tear from slipping down my cheek. I jumped up and grabbed a tissue.
"Why did you send her back to boarding school?" The words were more scalding than I meant. "I'm sorry, it's just obvious she's grieving for her parents."
He shrugged. "It was what she wanted. I kept her here for the first month. She wouldn't talk. Nanny Bee could barely get her to eat. A difficult situation all the way around. I wanted to take her on tour with me. I thought that might get her mind off of things, but she kept saying she wanted to go back to school. The counselors I spoke with said it might be best, considering that's where she felt the safest." His voice broke. "She's such a strong little tyke. I had no idea.
"I should go and get her and bring her home. I can't bloody well stand this." He jumped up and paced.
I touched his arm. "Hey, calm down. You've been doing the best you could in a really horrible situation. I don't know a damn thing about raising a child, but I do know that it isn't easy. Everyone who does it seems to screw up somehow, yet most of us turn out fine." I sighed. "Hell, that didn't sound as helpful as I meant. Maybe she could come over for the weekend?"
"Yes, and I'll call Nanny Bee. She'll know all of Zoë's favorite things." He grabbed me and kissed me on the mouth. "Thank you. I know that's not appropriate. But so far this week you've saved my life and have possibly given me a way to get through to my Zoë."
I scrunched up my face. "Okay, but if you kiss me again I'm going to pop you one."
He stopped on his way to the door and turned around. "Oh, that's funny." Then he left.
Jerk. I was serious.
* * *
Chapter Six
Tuesday, noon
Spells: 13
Wards: 15
Charms: 5
I've set up protection spells and wards everywhere around Zane's property, including his vehicles, and made him a talisman to wear around his neck or put in a pocket. The amber slows when evil is near.
There's just one problem: Until someone actually tries to harm him, I can't tap into the evil that is after him. The warlocks from the other night didn't leave anything behind. If I hadn't been bourboning it up at the club, I might have thought of grabbing at least one of their cloaks.
Doesn't matter. Zane's decided we're going out tonight. The man says he can only stay cooped up for so long. I find it difficult to understand how anyone can be bored with a thirty-room mansion, but then I'm not a grotesquely rich rock star.
So the big plan is to do a little shopping this afternoon in London. Can't say I really mind that, though it is more difficult to protect charges in large cities where so many people are hanging out.
If I were really honest though, another attack would help me ferret out who's behind this crap. So either way, it's win-win. Besides I just happened to notice on the Internet that Harrods is having a huge sale. I hope we can get over there. Zane has upscale boutiques in mind, but we'll see.
I need some basics. I'd only packed for one week in New York, and nothing for the beach. If Zane's bad guys don't show themselves, I may be here a while.
7:30 P. M.
London
We're at Zane's house here in London. It's much more modern than what I expected. Lots of clean lines, dark wood and white furniture.
Except in my room, which is red and yellow. Sounds horrible, but it isn't. Wouldn't have it in my house, but hey, I'm not one of the world's most famous celebrities.
Speaking of which, today was actually fun. We did hit the boutiques. Most of which had clothes that were, well, let's just say n
ot exactly my style. I did find one pair of jeans that make my ass look like a supermodel's. Maybe not that great, but better than usual.
I also found a black leather jacket with lots of inside pockets. Those come in handy when I'm trying to carry around a bunch of charms or other magical utensils. Of course, I won't be able to wear it for a few months because it's so hot. But that's okay.
Now Zane, on the other hand, dropped twenty grand at Lithos. On four pairs of leather pants and some boots. The pants are custom fit and all different colors. I never realized how buff he is, but I guess he has to stay in shape to run around and jump like he does onstage.
Then he dropped another fifty thousand at Harrods. He bought clothes, toys for Zoë, jewelry. Oh, my God. I'd never seen anyone spend so much cash so fast, and I've shopped for years with my mother. She's a pro. I don't know many English professors who are obsessed with the latest from Prada and Michael Kors, but my mother is.
But she has nothing, and I mean nothing, on Zane. He's generous to a fault, though. There was a little girl staring at a stuffed bear as big as she was, and he bought it for her. A two thousand dollar toy. Her mother protested until Zane worked that charm of his.
"Lovely woman, the child obviously needs the bear." He took her hand. "Look how it speaks to her." As if on cue the child hugged the humongous toy. I swear the bear smiled. Totally creeped me out.
"Now, that child simply can't be deprived. She needs that toy, and it needs her. And if you let her have it, I'll leave ten tickets for you and your friends at the will call for the concert next month."
The woman gasped and blushed. "Oh, oh. I'm sorry. You don't have to do that. I just didn't want to take advantage of your kindness. I—Well, thank you, Zane. She'll treasure it always."
We walked away, and Georgette made notes in her book to pay for the purchase.
I like Georgette. At first I thought she was a bit of a doormat, but it's quite the opposite. She sort of keeps Zane in line. Well, she lets him spend his money of course, but just when it seems he might slip off into the dark side she pulls him back.
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