Motherducking Magic (Bad Magic Bounty Hunter Book 1)

by Michelle Fox

  As the undead went, he was handsome enough. They usually were. If there had ever been ugly vamps, they were extinct now. Or perhaps hidden away. Humans were still uneasy around supes and the better we blended in, the less stink people made about things. So we all did our best to look human and keep our scariness in check.

  There was even the Triad, an inter-supernatural Council that oversee such concerns. Although I’d heard the witch representative hexed the werewolf, and the vampires had threatened to cut off relations.

  Politics stayed the same no matter how much magic you had.

  The vamp walked toward me, and I waved my gun at him. “That’s close enough.”

  He went still the way only a vampire can. I couldn’t kill him with bullets, but I could still cause enough damage that any sensible vampire wanted to avoid being shot. It took a lot of blood to heal from a charmed bullet.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” I waved my gun to remind him this was serious.

  He raised his hands in a placating gesture and flashed a smile that tried to look charming as opposed to hungry. Gray on vamps is the equivalent of low blood sugar in diabetics. “I am Vitor and I am looking for Sheridon Thorne. Who are you?”

  Vitor? Of course he was foreign. Weren’t they always? If you asked me, there was a shortage of real American vampires. Where was the ‘made in America’ push for the undead?

  “Sylvie.” I left out the whole bounty hunter song and dance. Supes didn’t like law enforcement, and I was too close to the cops for them to trust me as a general rule. I frowned. “How did you know he would be here?”

  “Sheridon called me.”

  I remained skeptical. “For what?”

  “I owe him money and he wanted payment.”

  “And now he’s gone.” I spoke more to myself than anyone else. I held out my hand. “Let me see your phone.”

  Vitor’s eyes narrowed.

  I rolled my eyes. “Thorne called you, right? Let’s see if he’s still answering his phone.”

  He gave a curt nod and pulled a fancy smart phone out of his pocket, but instead of passing it over to me, he made the call.

  Vampires didn’t like to give up control. They said vampires were the cats of supes; prickly, independent, one second they want your affection, the next they’ve drawn blood. There were memes about it online that always made me laugh. Although I sometimes wondered how cats felt about the comparison.

  Putting the phone on speaker, he held it up, and we listened to the ringing on the other end. No one picked up and the call rolled over to voice mail. To my surprise, the recorded message wasn’t in Thorne’s low, throaty growl, but that of a woman with chipper, cheerful, probably-taking-uppers kind of voice.

  "Thank you for calling Alpha's Grill. We can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can."

  Great. Thorne hadn’t used his personal phone. Probably afraid of being tracked.

  Vitor hung up before the beep and we both looked at each other.

  An unpleasant thought occurred to me. What if Thorne hadn’t found a way out of the charm? What if...what if he’d died?

  The spell dispersed upon death. I always told my clients that was the only way to be free of the binding charm.

  My stomach sank like my gut had become quicksand. I lost all oxygen for a moment from the shock of the thought. Maybe that was why my tracker had gone dark.

  Well, duck me with a wand full of splinters.

  Death may release Thorne, but I was still stuck. Without a body, he'd technically still miss his court date, and the state would fine me the fifty grand. Dead or alive, I had to find him...and soon.

  Gah. I hated dead bodies.

  The metal door at the warehouse entrance scraped open. I jumped, but Vitor didn't even blink. It's hard to sneak up on vamps. That's why I hunted them during the day, when they were supposed to be asleep.

  “Police,” announced a loud voice. “Put your hands up.”

  Chapter Three

  Swallowing a curse word, I tucked my gun back into its holster and held up my hands. First rule of staying alive in my line of work: Never look dangerous to a cop.

  Yeah, I could shoot at them, but that made a big mess I didn't want to clean up. The legal bills alone would be insane. It was better to get them to see me as a friend, a non-threatening, harmless friend.

  Two officers edged their way into the warehouse, flashlights shining into the darkness, blinding me and turning them into blurred shadows.

  I squinted my eyes. “I have jurisdiction, officers. Sylvie Orion, bounty hunter.”

  Vitor shot a surprised look my way at the disclosure. I just shrugged. Maybe he had something to hide, but I didn’t.

  “You got ID?” asked one of the cops.

  “In my back pocket.” I turned around and made a show of slowly reaching into my jeans to pull out my wallet. As I spun to face them, I gave a quick flick of my wrist to flip the wallet open, revealing the little card that made me official.

  “And who’s this?” The flashlights zeroed in on Vitor and he squinted against the light.

  Vampires are very light sensitive. I’d known a few to wear sunglasses, even in the dark. If I had to escort one to a court date, I wasn’t above spotlighting them with the strongest flashlight on the market. They hated that, which was why I enjoyed doing it so much.

  “Vitor Viktoli.”

  “You a supe?” The cop’s tone was not friendly. They must’ve picked up on his skin color. Racial profiling was only a no-no for humans. Supes were fair game. The courts said so.

  Vitor looked at me for guidance and I shook my head. No point in lying about what was plain to see.

  “Vampire.” His eyes scanned the warehouse as if planning an escape. I didn’t blame him. Cops had a hair trigger when it came to supes. Even I was concerned, and these guys were essentially my co-workers.

  The flashlights swung back to me, and the cops pulled their weapons, which sent a chill up my spine. One radioed in their situation while the other said to me, “You human?”

  “Witch." I was surprised they hadn’t recognized my name. I was the only supe bounty hunter in Cleveland. I was also technically human, but the magic thing cast witches in the supernatural category. Some days I agreed, others not so much. The courts couldn’t decide, either.

  “Don’t move.” The cop aimed his gun at Victor, who was as still as a statue from what I could see.

  I waved my hands to distract them. With my other hand, I started rolling one of the power boost charms on my bracelet. Just in case. “Guys I’m a bounty hunter. I’m in the various precincts all the time. How is it we haven’t met?” I was beginning to worry. They’d seen my credentials. I’d identified myself and yet I felt like I was about to face a firing squad. Not good.

  “Don’t look at me,” said the one cop to Vitor. His voice was loud and full of fear.

  His partner tried to bring him down. “Easy now.”

  “He’ll capture us with his eyes, and we’ll have to do whatever he says.” The other cop sounded even more panicked now. “I said, don’t move!” Then, with no warning, he yelled a battle cry and fired off a shot.

  Vitor staggered and dropped to one knee with a soft grunt. Things had gone from bad to worse. Some humans became consumed by fear and made irrational decisions around supes. It’s like some bizarre survival mechanism kicked in demanding immediate attack. Others just flat-out hated supes. A lot of those worked in law enforcement. Just my luck to run into a cop who seemed to think supe was just another word for target practice.

  I closed my eyes, activated the power booster charm, and called on the tiny spark of power I could claim as my own. Witches weren’t immortal like vampires, or strong like shape shifters, but we could make things happen. Even me, with my bottom-of-the-barrel magic. Thankfully, there was no shortage of charms to buy, and I always stocked up.

  I stirred the wind with a thought that felt heavy as an anvi
l. The charm helped, but it didn't make magic painless, and unlike other charms, I had to use my own power. Pushing hard, I whispered the words that would send a strong breeze to bum rush the police. They staggered back.

  Concentrating, I snagged the electricity in the air. In my third eye, it glittered like jagged streaks of lightning. Summer meant high humidity, so there wasn’t much to work with, but I managed to come up with a charge strong enough to shock them. Another invocation sent it crackling toward them and it hit with a loud snap.

  The officers crumpled, flashlights dropping to the ground, but the magic wasn't done. It came for me, demanding an outlet. Power required balance and it would wreak havoc until it found an equilibrium. A change in air pressure was my first warning. Then the air sizzled with blue sparks and they came right at me.

  Hex a duck.

  I'd left too much magic unspent, and it was ganging up on me.

  I lunged to the side and avoided the worst of the strike. Most of it discharged into the cement floor, but a few of the sparks sizzled into me anyway.

  My hair crackled and whipped away from my head, standing straight up. Pain flashed across my face, my hands, my neck...any exposed skin felt the bite of the shock. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood to keep from screaming.

  Thank the First Witch, the backlash didn't last too long. I couldn't remain standing, though. I collapsed like all my bones had been removed, the air in my lungs whooshed out in a soft groan. For a brief second the world went black and then came back too big and too sharp. Every bass drum in the world had teleported inside my skull, all beating in unison.

  "Motherducking magic." I couldn't say it too loudly because then my brain would splatter inside my skull, but I poured a scorching flamethrower of fury into my tip-toe of a whisper. A for emotional intensity.

  Vitor loomed over me, his pale face full of concern. “Miss Orion?”

  I put a finger to my lips. "Sh. Noise hurts. Everything hurts."

  "Are you okay?" He offered his hand, and I took it to pull myself into a sitting position. I wanted to stand, but I couldn't quite feel my feet over all the drumming in my head, and my brain now screamed like a horror movie just from the change in position. I gave him an overly optimistic thumbs up, not quite trusting my voice yet.

  "What did you do?" He looked back at the officers who were still unconscious. They'd gotten the full force of the shock while I'd had a tenth of it.

  I licked my lips, swallowed, then swallowed again. My mouth tasted a little charred. Huh. “Tasered them with magic." I wanted to sound like an in charge, confident witch, but I could only manage a soft, breathy sex kitten voice. Anything louder and my head would explode. Oh well. I'd be a kickass, has-all-her-shit-together witch next time. It's good to have goals, right?

  I looked closer at Vitor. “Are you okay?”

  His pallor was zombie gray with a tinge of green. I could only imagine how much pain he was in. Neon rainbows flared in my peripheral vision, and I rubbed my head. Oh boy, the bass drum and screaming had been joined by a light show.

  Vitor nodded. “For the moment. I would feel better if those two did not have weapons when they woke up.”

  “You and me both." I forced myself to stand and was pleased when I didn't fall back over. My feet unsteady, I made my way over to the cops and kicked their guns into the dark corners of the warehouse.

  Kneeling slowly so as to not set off the internal bass drum show I had going, I secured their hands with their handcuffs. Now, even if they woke up while we were still there, they wouldn’t be able to do much.

  I snagged one of their flashlights and went to Vitor, who had sagged on the ground. We were like a see-saw of injury. I went down, he went up. I came up, he went down. We both needed to be up and out before the cops came to. I checked his wound with the flashlight. “Looks like the bullet went straight through.”

  Vitor grimaced. “Felt like it, too.”

  “Do you have someone you can call for help?” He worried me. His color had gone from gray to a pasty green tinged with black. I didn’t think he'd be able to walk out of here on his own power. The drums boomed and I clutched my head, now worried about myself. At the rate this headache was progressing, I wasn’t so sure I would be walking out of the warehouse on my own two feet myself.

  Some supernaturals we were.

  “I need to feed.” He looked at me expectantly.

  I took a few steps back and then wind-milled my arms to keep from falling. My skull weighed more than I remembered. Note to self: No sudden moves. Second note to self: Was he crazy? “My blood will kill you.”

  He gave a soft laugh. “That is what they tell you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “My lover was a witch. I fed from her for years.” His eyes locked with mine as he spoke.

  I gasped and broke eye contact, not wanting him to influence me. As a witch I should be immune, but vamps came with different power levels. I’d been surprised before. Better safe than mesmerized. “That’s not possible. Our blood—”

  “Burns like vodka brewed in a dragon's stomach acid,” he said. “Because it is potent.”

  I just stared at him, stunned. “But—”

  He cut me off again. “But the witches never say that, do they? Why would they? It would make all of you a juicy target. Especially in the old days, before the different supe Councils or the Triad, but I know better.”

  I looked to the cops. "What about them?"

  Vitor shook his head. "And have the police think a vampire fed from them? I'm dead, not crazy. I do not want humans on the warpath."

  I took a deep breath. He had a point. We did not need a large scale freak out from the humans. “Okay, say I give you some blood. What will you do for me?”

  “I will help you find Sheridon.”

  “I don’t need help.” The last thing I wanted was some vamp who couldn’t properly feed himself or keep from getting shot. That was the kind of help I could live without. My headache surged with a throb that hit my knees like a ninja. A roaring that sounded like all the anger in the universe howling at me filled my ears. I grit my teeth and swallowed against the nausea flooding my body. Even my hair wanted to puke.

  The price I paid for magic...

  “Is that code for ‘I do not need money?' Do you not have a lot to lose if you do not find that wolf? Or is my understanding of bounty hunting incorrect?” His voice was sharp with irritation. “Besides, I know Sheridon. His hangouts. His people. And I...owe him money, a lot of... money. He will be looking for me.”

  I held my stomach with one hand, pushing in firmly as I took deep breaths. I will not puke. I will not puke. I will NOT puke, dammit. I'm a ducking bad ass witch. Not a puker.

  Through sheer force of will, I steadied my stomach enough to consider Vitor’s offer. It sounded mildly interesting. Maybe the vampire could save me some time. Maybe I would get super lucky and Thorne would come for Vitor.

  “All right." I winced as the movement of my mouth jarred my skull like a direct hit from a bowling ball. Goddess, sometimes magic could really suck. “But just enough to get you on your feet and to someone who can give you a proper feeding.”

  “I will not need much. One drop of witch blood is worth three of human blood.” He motioned me over to him.

  I kneeled next to him, my heart beating with sudden nervousness. This went against everything I’d ever been taught. Our blood was supposed to be anathema to vampires, and the taboo was so strong that no vampire would feed from a witch. To suggest it was almost a slur. Now this stranger said the world was wrong and he was right? Crazy didn’t even cover it.

  Vitor took my hand and pulled me forward until his face was buried in my neck. One hand cradling the back of my head, he pressed the tips of his fangs against my throat, pricking but not breaking my skin. Goosebumps rushed me, my breathing hitched, the world did a little spin.

  “This will hurt only a little.” His hand tightened on my head.

  “Ju
st do it." My words were brave, but my delivery was a panting mess of nerves. My headache faded giving way to the sensation of my breasts heaving under my shirt and brushing against his chest. The small movement was somehow erotic. Why did this suddenly feel like foreplay? I was confused.

  Vitor's cold lips pressed into the side of my neck, and then with a sharp, sudden movement his fangs punched through my skin. I cried out and jerked back involuntarily, but he held me in place, his grip strong as steel.

  Time slowed and his mouth working against my throat felt like a new heartbeat. My senses became hyperaware of everything about Vitor; from the way his fingers threaded in my hair to the hardness of his body as it supported my weight.

  My eyes slipped closed and I sagged against him, suddenly boneless. There was a rapid spinning in my third eye, a psychic merry-go-round at warp speed. I clutched at Vitor, holding on so I didn’t whirl away. It didn’t matter though, nothing could stop the vortex that overcame me.

  With a jolt, I was thrust into another time and place. I wasn’t me anymore, but someone else. Someone who wore a fine gown of burgundy brocade. A corset cinched my waist, and narrow shoes pinched my feet. When I looked down, I caught sight of a beautiful necklace, a moonstone the size of my thumb gleamed in my cleavage.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  No one seemed to hear me, and when I moved to touch the moonstone, arms tightened around me. I looked up to see Vitor. He was different, too.

  A white wig sat on his head, and he wore a fancy suit in sapphire blue. The jacket had long tails and a starched white shirt gave him a noble air. Knee-length pants gave way to white stockings and square heeled shoes. His wig had been carefully combed and styled and his eyes glittered at me like obsidian that had managed to catch fire. If I’d thought him handsome when I first saw him, he was doubly so in this...vision? Dream? Hallucination?

  I blinked, hoping that when I opened my eyes the world would be right again, but it didn’t work. I was still someone else in a tight dress and he was holding me as we...as we...danced? I was dancing?