Charmed & Ready

by Candace Havens

  Hard to explain, but I'm glad he has her.

  She's kind of cute with her charcoal bobbed hair, eyebrow ring and bright red lipstick. I heard Zane mention she had a beau, but I don't know when she'd see a lover. She's on call twenty-four/seven. Anytime Zane needs something, she's there.

  Oh, and the sunglasses. The man bought five thousand dollars' worth of sunglasses. I think it would have been closer to ten thousand, but Georgette whispered something in his ear. He shook his head and told the saleswoman he changed his mind.

  Anyway, he wants go to someplace called the Supper Club. He promises food, dancing and lots of fun. We'll see. I noticed something about him today. The more money he spent the happier he became. The day began with him in a foul mood. I wondered if it was from our talk last night, but I didn't ask.

  Maybe that's how he buries his pain, by being a shopaholic. We all have our vices. Mine happen to be blowing up people, and binging on Sno Ball cupcakes from Hostess.

  What the hell's that buzzing sound?

  8 P. M.

  Witches who are rolling their eyes: 1

  That was Zane making weird noises outside my door. I can't believe that giant goober. He had leather pants made for me to wear tonight, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. He also gave me a cute little black lacy top. It's V-necked and backless. Shows a great deal more skin than usual, but hey. And then there are the shoes. There's no way in hell I can walk in these.

  I've worn Christian Louboutin shoes before, thanks to my mother, but these are extraordinary. They're leopard print pumps. And I can't believe I'm doing this, but damn if I'm not going to try and wear them. Now if I can just get these damn pants over my hips.

  Zane swore the leather would stretch. We'll see.

  3 A. M.

  Drunk witches: 1

  Okay, I have to stop dancing because that leads to drinking. Which wouldn't be such a bad thing if the drinking were water but it isn't. That horrible Zane totally exploited my love for bourbon. I don't know the name of it, but it's the smoothest shit I've ever had. I mean, whooooo. That first glass went down and all the tension left my body.

  We did dine at the club. Nothing too out of the ordinary, although people here really seem to love lamb. I can't get into it.

  Ick. Bourbon burp. Just thinking about that poor baby lamb is making me sick. Or maybe it's the six, no eight glasses of that wicked bronze liquid.

  So, for dinner I had gazpacho and chicken with giant mushrooms. Maybe they were portabellas, I don't know. It was good. All that crap about English food is just that, crap. It's pretty damn great as far as I'm concerned.

  Then we danced. Had to work off all those calories. At first it wasn't so easy with the heels and leather pants. Finally, I just kicked off the shoes and cuffed my pants. I'm sure I looked quite the sophisticate.

  Ack, another bourbon burp. Nasty.

  I was so tired and we left. Then the cameras. I'm fairly certain I've lost part of my eyesight. Seriously. Blinded by the light. Hey, isn't that a song?

  Anyway, we made it back to the red and yellow room. Oh, man. Now it's making me dizzy.

  Note to self: Do not look at wallpaper when drunk.

  Oooooh. Bathroom.

  That was disgusting.

  'Nother note to self: Bourbon, bad, bad, bad.

  How the hell am I going to get out of these damn pants?

  2 P.M.

  My head hurts. Have I mentioned that bourbon is the devil's brew? We should bring back prohibition—Hell, I know better than to do this to myself.

  I mixed a few greens with a real Coke, and I'm waiting for the herbs to kick in. I hate Zane. I saw him outside getting ready to take a swim in the pool. I'd go out for some sun, but I'm chafed. That's right boys and girls. Falling asleep drunk in your leather pants can lead to skanky skin the next day.

  Argh! So embarrassing. Thank God I have one flowy cotton skirt. I'll throw that on with a T-shirt. And see if my eyes can handle the sunlight.

  Oh, the good news: I had the most amazing dream. Sam must have opened his mind for me again, and baby I just slipped right in.

  We were in my new office at home. I was typing on the computer and he came up from behind and hugged me. The next thing I knew I was bent over on the desk while he was pounding into me from behind. Amazing. And it all felt so real.

  I tried to call him to see if he had dreamed the same thing, but he didn't answer.

  Think I'll call him again.

  5 P. M.

  Oh, what a crappy, crappy day. Turns out those photographers weren't just shooting Zane. I was in the big fat middle of every London tabloid this morning. Zane thought it was sooooo amusing.

  Please God, if you love me, don't let those pictures make it to the States. Please, please, please. We were also on the UK version of Entertainment Tonight, where they pronounced me the new queen to the king of rock and roll. Oh. Horrid, horrid people, the paparazzi. It almost makes me feel sorry for those Hollywood types who complain about their invasion of privacy.

  As if I'd date someone like Zane. Oh, he's handsome and charming, but I just don't feel it.

  I don't care that much about what people think, but it does feel invasive. I know one thing: I'm not drinking another drop of liquor while I'm here. Not one sip. Nada. No more.

  9 P. M.

  Okay, so that's disappointing. I tried to call Sam again and he still doesn't answer. I don't care that it's three in the morning there. My friend Kira called and said Sam's really pissed.

  She heard from Margie that they were all standing around watching the big screen at the nursing home. The noon news report came on and they flashed the picture of Zane and me coming out of the club.

  "When the news anchor said, 'Meet Zane's flavor of the month,' Sam threw a medical chart across the room and stormed out. No one's seen him since," Kira told me. I could tell she was uncomfortable, but she knew I'd want to know what was going on.

  "Kira, you know it's all idiotic. Sam should too. He and I just talked about this." I threw my hands up in frustration. "I mean me and a rock star, come on."

  "Well, Bron, actually it's not such a reach. I mean just a few months ago you were hooked up with a sheik. Not technically, but you know what I mean. And Sam, well he hasn't been himself lately. We tried to invite him over to dinner but he said he didn't need to be coddled by your friends. He kind of pissed Caleb off."

  Caleb is my brother's best friend and he had met Kira through me. While he was supposed to be looking out for me, he ended up falling in love with the town librarian. He still looked after my place when I was gone, when he wasn't off writing his magazine articles as an investigative reporter.

  Kira continued, "But I think Sam's overtired and not himself. Maybe he went back to work too soon."

  I'd wondered the same thing many times the last week.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed. I'd bought a calling card so I could call direct on Zane's line, since mine keeps cutting out.

  "Maybe he did. I don't know. He healed so fast considering everything he went through. God, Kira, I don't know what to do. I want to come home and straighten out this mess, but I can't leave right now. I have a job to do. And to be honest, he's got to start trusting me or this is never going to work."

  Kira sighed. "I'm on your side, Bron, really I am. But I saw the news and I've read the articles. I don't care how secure you are; it would be tough to take. They showed you hanging all over Zane and both of you had huge smiles. It also looked like you were drunk."

  "We were drunk. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sorry, Kira. Sam won't return my calls. This is just total suckage all the way around."

  "Give him some time, let him calm down. Any guy would be angry if he saw his woman with another man like that. But Sam's a good guy. He'll come around. And in the meantime, well, I'll keep an eye on him from a distance." She laughed. "I won't let him know he's being coddled. You just hurry up and get those bad guys so you can come home."

  We rang off. Even though I promi
sed to never probe Sam's mind, I tried it. He had his shields up so tight, I couldn't even get a fix on his location. I hope he's okay.

  I'm going to concentrate on work now, and I'll take every ounce of my frustration out on whoever is after Zane, because these assholes have totally fucked with my life.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Thursday, 7 A. M.

  London

  Spells: 2

  Witches who may be without a steady boyfriend: 1

  Now I'm mad. Sam still won't call me back. Margie told Kira that he showed up at the nursing home to do rounds, but he wouldn't talk to the staff. He was nice to the patients, as always, but didn't say a word to anyone else unless it was to bark orders.

  At least I know he's alive.

  We have a meeting with the prime minister in two hours. I'm not in the mood. Really, really not in the mood. It's an emergency mini-summit to deal with some rebel problems in Africa. Much of the aid that is supposed to go to the starving and dying children has been cut off by a rebellion.

  I know war is commonplace in this world, but why does it always have to hurt the children? Let the grown-ups blow themselves to bits, but leave the innocents out of it.

  While it's only a few dignitaries, there's a possibility our bad guys might show up, so I'm included.

  It's just as well. Maybe it will get my mind off my own sucky life.

  9 P.M.

  Spells: 4

  Charms: 2

  Potions: 2

  Pissed-off witches: 1

  I friggin' hate demons. Really. They are nasty sons of bitches that should be eradicated from the face of the earth.

  When the meetings ended we ran up to a private club just down the block for some lunch. Beef stew. The guys had black and tans, I stuck with bottled water. Nothing major. Zane and the prime minister talked about what they planned to do for the children. And then it was decided the PM would come out to the country house for the weekend.

  The shit happened when we walked out the door. Expecting more paparazzi, I was on guard. I was going to cast a spell on any asshole who even tried to take my picture. I still didn't feel so great from the hangover. And let's face it, I'm depressed. So if anyone messed with me, I had several spells ready to go.

  But there were no cameras waiting, just a big smelly Arnok demon. Eight foot, yellowish green skin and spitting acid.

  "Nasty bugger," Zane said as he stopped short.

  The Arnok went for Zane who ducked and stuck out a foot like a martial arts pro to try and trip the demon. But the demon didn't budge.

  "Prime Minister, go back in the pub and call the local spook squad. I'll try to hold him off." I threw a spell to stop the green monster, but it didn't work.

  The PM didn't move inside like I asked, but he did pull out his phone and dial someone.

  I held out my hands and chanted, trying to bind the demon to the ground where he stood, before he could attack Zane again.

  But my magic didn't work. The demon slung out a fist and knocked Zane into the large wooden door. The PM helped Zane up, while I tried to attract the monster's attention.

  I threw a fireball at him. But it only made him roar, "No fire!" And he batted it away. The damn thing was protected by dark magic.

  "Zane, pull the talisman out of your pocket and hold it up in front of you and the prime minster. This would be easier if you would both go back inside." I motioned to the door.

  "Hell no. We aren't leaving you out here alone," Zane yelled. But he did pull out the necklace and wrapped the black cord around his hand a few times. The amber made the demon flinch. And I knew I needed earth magic.

  Just one problem. We're in the middle of London and except for the parks, which were blocks away, there's very little that isn't concrete. I noticed a tree a half block down. If I could touch the bark, I could work the spell. I wondered if the idiot might chase me.

  "Oh, look, Mr. Demon. The big, bad witch is getting away." I ran past him and taunted him from down the sidewalk. He looked confused. Zane was his target, but demons love anything that runs. I skipped backwards. "Bet I can beat you to the tree." When he took a step toward me I ran for it.

  The ground shook from his heavy steps. Damn, he was a big bastard. A woman started to walk out the door of a shop, but took one look at the demon, and hightailed back inside. No one else was around.

  I grabbed hold of the tree. It was dying, but there was enough there to do what I needed. "Bless you Mother Earth for your great bounty," I chanted. Then I wrapped a metaphysical chain around the demon. He stopped in his tracks. Couldn't move.

  Except that he spat. Yuck. It landed right on my forearm and burned like Hades had come calling. I kept chanting and he kept spitting. That is, until I put some metaphysical duct tape across those nasty lips of his.

  The spook squad, a police force that deals with all demons, warlocks, witches and any other magical being who is misbehaving, came around the corner, screeching to a stop. Four men jumped out, dressed in dark blue matching suits. They used a special rope to lasso the demon and placed a black sack over its enormous head.

  They loaded it into the back of the truck. After a few questions for us, they took off.

  The limo came around and dropped us all off at Zane's to get cleaned up. I couldn't get the burning to stop and pulled out my little black case.

  After cleaning the gaping wound with sila soap, I made a combination of chamomile, aloe and blue ziro paste, which cooled the burn, but it was blistered and smelled horrible.

  The prime minister wanted to call in a doctor, but few in the medical profession are knowledgeable about demon burns. I do have a talent for healing, but whatever poison had seeped in had drained my powers. After a few more tries I was able to cool the burning. But it continued to blister.

  Wrapping the arm from elbow to wrist with gauze, I shimmied out of my tan slacks and white blouse. The blouse went into the trash; between the acid and the burned fabric it was useless.

  I needed to rest. I called Zane on the house phone and told him to send someone to check on me if I didn't wake up in a couple of hours. I washed my face free of makeup, and threw on an oversized T-shirt with tiny hearts all over it. Sam gave it to me a few weeks ago. The thought made me cry.

  I sobbed into my pillow for a few minutes and then the next thing I knew I heard whispering and it was totally dark.

  "Should we wake her up?" That was the prime minister. "I seem to remember that she needs to sleep in order to regain her strength."

  "I don't care, I just want to make sure she's alive. Find a mirror we can stick under her nose." Zane sounded so serious.

  It made me laugh. My arm felt tight and hot, but other than that, I was fine.

  "I'm alive." I raised up in the bed and pulled the blankets around me.

  "Thank God," The PM and Zane said together.

  "Was there ever any doubt really? She's terribly hard to kill." That was snippy little Miles, the PM's assistant. I hate the bastard, but it was kind of good to hear his voice.

  "Hi Fifi, vacation over?" I once threatened to turn Miles into a poodle, and the name's been stuck in my head ever since. I think I like it.

  He knew what I was talking about. "She's obviously fine sir, I think we can go now." Miles sniffed.

  "In a moment, Miles. Bronwyn, is there anything we can get you?" The PM sounded worried.

  "Maybe I could use some tea and some of those sandwiches like we had yesterday, oh and that chocolate cake, the one with the raspberry filling."

  Zane laughed. "She's definitely feeling better. She eats like a cow."

  "Hey." I wanted to kick his ass, but I just didn't feel quite up to it. My joints were a little achy. Kind of like the flu.

  "Sorry luv, it's just that I don't know where you put it. It all seems to be arranged so perfectly."

  There was a snort by the door.

  "I heard that, Miles. You guys go on, I'm okay. Oh, wait, did they get any info about the demon? It belonge
d to someone with powerful black magic."

  The PM cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, no. When they took the demon back there was a bit of a ruckus and well, he was disposed of in a way that left no remains."

  Shit. There goes my evidence. If I had the demon, I might have been able to trace the magic. No demon, no magic. Square one. Great. At this rate I would never make it home.

  Friday, 11 A. M.

  Spells: 2

  Charms: 5

  Sick witches: 1

  I've been puking for three hours straight and trying to work at the same time. Man, this sucks.

  I thought maybe I could use the poison the demon spewed into my arm to trace the magic that had controlled him. No such luck. But now that the spook brigade is involved I have them looking into where the demon may have come from. Usually there's an infestation, and they can track down and eradicate them. If I didn't feel like crap, I'd like to help them.

  Once again, back to the beginning with this thing. I have a gang of cloak-wearing wannabe bad guys. An Arnok demon, and the death of Zane's brother. The events are too close not to be related.

  And I've been thinking about that voice. Maybe it's my muddled mind, but when the warlock in New York spoke he sounded just like that evil Blackstock. I remember that tone reverberating in my head when he tried to kill me in my conservatory. I'm crazy. I sent that asshole to hell. There's no way he'd be back.

  God, my head hurts. Maybe it's not the demon acid. I could have picked up a summer flu or something. My arm actually looks better, but I feel one hundred times worse.

  I'm expected downstairs in a few minutes and have to pretend all is well. If Zane even suspected that I was under the weather he'd have every doctor in town here and probably buy me a Bentley. Since I've saved his life twice in the last few weeks, he swears he's indebted for life.