Magic and Mayhem: Have Wand, Will Travel (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Teresa Reasor

  He unscrewed the wand from the clamp and took it with him upstairs.

  * * *

  ZAIRA CLOSED THE bedroom door. Cerbie had taken up a watch next to Arnold, head on paws. She’d done some healing to ease the man’s scrapes and bruises, so at least his wrists and ankles looked normal again.

  Once Arnold had gotten some food and a shower, he’d dropped off to sleep as though someone had thrown a switch. He was completely exhausted, poor man. He’d needed to stay on guard against being attacked by both the vampires and the witch. He’d been reticent about his treatment, but she gathered from what he said that they’d threatened and tormented and tortured him, trying to get him to tell them every aspect of his master’s life.

  Master was such an antiquated term. After a hundred years together, they’d progressed beyond the servant-master relationship. She didn’t feel that Chris was a master to the elderly man at all, but a loving nephew or son instead.

  It was difficult, this relationship they built between preternatural being and human. Chris had the edge of being able to sustain Arnold’s life through their connection. The vampire shared his energy through the bond. Had he not, Arnold might have succumbed to starvation or injury during his ordeal.

  She’d volunteered her spare bedroom to ensure Chris didn’t disappear now Arnold was safe. She needed more time to discover what the Vampire Council had demanded he do for them. If he was the thief who had stolen the wand, she needed to recover it from him and return it to the protection of the box and the storage facility.

  But in the meantime, she needed to get some work done. She slipped into the bedroom again. Her voice just above a whisper, she said, “Keep an eye on Arnold for me, Cerbie.”

  His ears twitched. “I got this covered.”

  Stepping out into the hall, she teleported to Seymour Hurst’s hotel in Lexington, Kentucky. He was visiting Transylvania College to encourage attendance at the next national WaVeS ball, which was for all preternatural creatures, but sponsored by the Witch, Vampire and Shifters’ Councils. The concierge, who knew him from past conferences, pointed him out to her in the bar. The warlock was having a drink and chatting up a coed who looked a quarter of his age.

  “Hello, Seymour,” she greeted him as though they knew each other.

  “Hello.” He squinted his eyes as though nearsighted, not a good look for him, since, combined with his long, narrow nose and pointy chin, it emphasized his resemblance to an opossum. An opossum with spiked white hair.

  “Could you spare me just five minutes? I was sent by your fellow Council members to ask you a few questions.”

  Seymour flushed red, and his white brows clamped together like they were bumping fists. He glanced around the room. “They’re not here, are they?”

  “No. Just me.”

  He breathed a relieved sigh.

  The young woman sitting across from him rose and tossed blond ringlets over her shoulder. “I have another appointment, Seymour baby. We’ll catch up before you leave to say good-bye.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

  Seymour baby? Zaira eyed the warlock. Perhaps he was Mr. Personality Plus. That often offset an…um…unfortunate appearance.

  He smiled, flashing large teeth in his narrow mouth. “How about two a.m., Laverne? I’ll be in my room by then.”

  “That sounds good.” She nodded to Zaira and strutted through the crowded bar.

  He cupped his chin in his hand and followed the woman’s progress across the room with rapt attention until she exited the bar. “You’d never know she’s a hooker by looking at her, would you?”

  Zaira mouth flew open and she quickly closed it.

  He motioned to the seat the girl had vacated. “Those tight-assed curmudgeons never let me have any fun. What have they sent you here for?”

  Zaira bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Right after you left to come to Transylvania, a special artifact went missing from the Council storage facility.”

  His eyes widened. “No shit?”

  Caught by surprise, Zaira laughed. “No shit.”

  He remained silent for a moment. “This artifact wouldn’t by any chance come from Ireland, would it?”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “Shit!”

  He spoke so loudly several nearby patrons looked up.

  He took a big gulp of the cocktail sitting in front of him.

  Zaira leaned forward and placed her arms on the table.

  “I had a feeling something like this might go down.” He raked his hand over his spiked hair. “They were all sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong. Baba Yaga is away, and they’ve been spending their time going through things. I’m afraid some of them have delusions of grandeur.”

  “The only one I’ve had any dealings with is Glendora.”

  “Don’t let that ditzy Marilyn Monroe impression fool you. Behind those boobs beats a heart of stone. Great boobs, though.” He lost his train of thought, or maybe he was following it, then suddenly jerked his attention back to her. “I think she’s got her eyes on the Baba Yaga job, and she doesn’t care how she gets it.”

  Zaira didn’t know why anyone would want it. All that power would be great, but having to deal with witchy issues all the time, not so much.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where Baba Yaga is vacationing, would you? In case this turns into an emergency.”

  “No, I don’t. And she wouldn’t be happy if you contacted her, either. She hasn’t had a vacation in at least a hundred years.” He rested his elbow on the table, but it slipped off the edge, and he took a header toward the floor. His feet hovered in the air for a moment before he flipped back into his seat in a gymnastic mount that might have earned him a seat on team Witch.

  Dear Goddess, he was hammered.

  “I do know she’s dating Fabio.”

  Zaira’s sat up in shock. “The cover model on all the romance novels? Isn’t he human and—old?”

  “Not that Fabio.” He chuckled and waved a hand. “Zelda’s father. You know Zelda, don’t you?”

  She didn’t know Zelda, but she had heard of her. Everyone in the preternatural community had heard of Zelda. “Doesn’t she live in West Virginia somewhere?”

  “Yes. They call the place Assjacket but its real name is—” He leaned forward and whispered the name of the town in a stage whisper they probably heard as far away as Assjacket.

  Zelda cringed and hoped no one was paying any attention.

  “If I was looking for her, I’d start there.”

  Zelda rose. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

  “And there’s one more thing.” Seymour weaved in his seat and his words were beginning to slur. “The artifact we’re talking about…It’s damn dan—” he belched “—gerous.”

  Then his forehead hit the tabletop with a thump. He’d passed out, thank the Goddess.

  CHAPTER 7

  AFTER MAKING SURE Seymour was taken to his motel room, Zaira popped back home, checked on Arnold, and settled on the couch with her laptop to do some research, and wasn’t surprised when she found very little of anything to do with the wand. She’d have to turn to other resources for that.

  Hearing Seymour Hurst expounding on the dangers of the device didn’t exactly clue her in on exactly how dangerous.

  She turned her attention to the Sutherlands. He owned a huge construction company specializing in office buildings, apartment complexes, and other structures. Of late they had lost a few bids, and business had fallen off. And when she looked up his county and city taxes, she learned his tax payments had been late for the past two years.

  She moved on to public records, where she found two lawsuits filed. His company was being sued for failure to finish one structure, and for never starting another.

  After a little finessing, she brought up their financial information, and saw they were nearly broke. That three hundred thousand was going to come in handy.

  Next she researched Chris. It hadn’t occurred to Arnold to
be anything but forthcoming with information. When she looked up Christophe Bakas, she learned he had degrees in American and European History, and a doctorate in Political Science. He had taught at the community college for ten years. He had no property in his name other than his car. The house must be in Arnold’s. She tried Arnold Bakas and came up empty. She hadn’t thought to ask him his full name.

  A car pulled up in the driveway, and she closed the laptop and went to the door. Chris looked like he’d been mucking around in a barnyard, but smelled like he’d been sprayed with soap. His shoes were smeared with…was that shampoo? With a wave of her hand, she cleaned his clothing and shoes before he stepped into the house. He dropped a large collection of bags beside the door.

  “Thanks, the shoes are the only pair I have. I didn’t have time to shop for more. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s sleeping. Cerbie’s with him, on guard. I think he must have been under duress the entire time he was held.”

  “I’m sure he was.”

  Of course, he’d feel the draw of energy from him whenever something happened to Arnold.

  He pulled several oddly-shaped things from both pockets of his jacket. “I was hoping you could do something with these.”

  When she realized what they were, quick tears pricked her eyes. She’d had several vampire clients, had felt their emotions and their lack of them. Chris was an oddity. Touched by his gesture, she placed the boxes on the coffee table and sat down in front of them. She picked each one up to study, trying to get an idea of how it looked before it was damaged. Then she touched each one, fixing it as she went. He added two more to the group that seemed to have survived unscathed.

  “There were three missing. I’ll look again when I start cleaning up the mess.”

  “I’m sure Arnold will appreciate it.” She said her voice husky with emotion. “You look like you could use something to drink.”

  “Yes, I could. You healed him, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I felt your energy.” His pale gray eyes took on the silver glow, and his throat worked as he swallowed. He brushed his hand down her arm, raising the tiny hairs there against his palm.

  Her heart fluttered like bat wings at her throat and wrists, not from the fear she should have been feeling, but the power of her need. His touch was like static electricity playing upon her nerve endings, bringing them to life. She swayed toward him, craving more. His beard brushed her temple as he drew her close. He felt solid, muscular, and manly. Very manly. The banana had turned into something more.

  “If we made love, we’d share woo-woo the way we’re doing right now.” His hand splayed against her spine, molding her closer.

  Oh Goddess! The cautious voice inside her shouting, no falling for a vampire was drowned out by the hungry beat of her heart.

  “It’s very pleasurable. And I promise not to bite.” He nibbled her ear.

  She felt a heartbeat throbbing against her palm just as fast as her own and wondered at it. He nibbled her neck and her hoohaw was hot, wet, and tingling in seconds. She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed closer. They rocked against each other. At Chris’s husky groan, sensual chills rushed across her skin.

  His lips found hers. He’d had over two hundred years to perfect his kissing technique, and Zaira thanked the Goddess for every day of it. His soft, sweet kisses built to passionate consummation of teeth and tongue that both terrified and thrilled her. She rode the razor-sharp edge of need as his tongue tempted and teased her own into a hungry, sensual battle that pushed her to the brink.

  And when he lifted her and pressed her back against the door, fitting himself against her in just the right spot, she wrapped her legs around his waist and welcomed the pressure against her now ultra-sensitive hoohaw. With two rolling thrusts of his hips he brought her to completion. The power of her orgasm rolled over her, through her like a tsunami, and she felt it spread over him, through him, until his release throbbed against her. They were both gasping.

  “Imagine how much better it would have been if I’d been inside you, Zaira.”

  If it got any better, she might not survive.

  He kissed her softly and set her gently on her feet.

  Oh, Goddess, what had she done? He was a client, and she’d just crossed the line, something she’d never done before.

  He excused himself and went down the hall to clean up.

  As soon as he was out of sight, she began to pace the floor, berating herself. She’d never allowed anyone to get so close to her so quickly. She’d completely dropped her defenses because of the care he showed to Arnold. Every time she moved she felt her damp panties and relived that final moment. How much better could it have been if he’d been inside her?

  She was not falling for him. No matter how good he was at sharing woo-woo.

  She didn’t like the panicked feeling of guilt and confusion that tumbled inside her.

  She slipped down the hall to her room, wiggled free of her panties, and slipped on a fresh pair.

  She exited her room at the same time he exited the bathroom. He caught her guilty flush and smiled. His silver-gray eyes delved into hers. “Don’t regret a moment of it. I’m not going to.” He kissed her again.

  “You’re a client, Chris. There are rules.”

  “Not anymore, Zaira. You saved Arnold. Now it will be up to me to see him safe.” He reached inside the interior jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope of money. “This is the fee we settled on for your services.” He offered it to her.

  She wrapped her fingers around the envelope. “Where will you and he go?”

  “I was hoping you would allow Arnold to stay the night while I clean up the house. I’m going to encourage him and his lady take a cruise together until I take care of this…issue.”

  “That might be a good idea.”

  “And while he’s gone, I’ll have the house repaired.”

  “It may take a little time to get things done.”

  Christophe raised a brow. “I can be very persuasive.”

  She could attest to that. She’d barely known what hit her.

  She was developing a soft spot for this handsome vampire cat burglar. And a passion for him.

  She couldn’t afford a vampire in her life. There was too much prejudice against vampire-witch couples in the preternatural community. It would destroy her business.

  And there was still the question of the wand.

  With clearer thoughts came guilt. She had kissed him. They’d shared woo-woo. And she was thinking about how she could use him to get the wand back.

  He laid a fingertip against her bottom lip, his full attention focused there. He kissed her again, and her chaotic thoughts took a hike as though there was a switch that turned off her brain as soon as his lips touched hers.

  She had to do something about that.

  “I’ve been wondering about something. Did you see the witch who was guarding Arnold?”

  “No, but he gave me a description. She was older, with dark hair and eyes. But then she could have been using a disguise spell.”

  “His rescue was too easy. There has to be a reason why they allowed us to take him.”

  She had thought the same thing. And she had the edgy feeling she always got when something wasn’t quite right.

  “When do you want me to meet with the Sutherlands?”

  She’d almost decided against it. “I looked into their finances. You were right. They’re up to their eyebrows in debt.”

  He nodded. “I can give them back the money I got for the gems. Now I have Arnold back, I no longer need it.”

  “There wouldn’t be much point in that. Send it to the insurance company instead. They’re going to be paying it out, unless I turn the Sutherlands in. But I don’t have any proof they’re defrauding the company. Or no proof I can give the company without turning you in.”

  “I have put you in a difficult position.” Regret tempered his expression.

  “There is one
thing you could do for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Tell me what the Vampire Council asked you to do.”

  He remained silent for a long moment. “They asked me to use my skills to steal something and bring it to them.”

  Yes! She knew it. “And did you?”

  “No. We’ve been at an impasse, because I didn’t trust them to return Arnold. I don’t trust them not to try to take him again, either. It has been my experience they will do whatever it takes to further their agendas, and to hell with everyone else.”

  At an impasse about stealing it or giving it to them? He didn’t distinguish between the two. It sounded very much like how she’d felt about the Witch Council in the past. But the Baba Yaga did things a little differently. She didn’t put up with any shit.

  “Adcock is a dick.”

  Hearing him use slang without his formal speech always surprised her. She laughed.

  He grinned, mirroring her amusement, and her heart turned over. He was way too attractive, and with his kindness to Arnold…

  “But he’s a very powerful dick. If I do what he wants, he can turn me into the Council for stealing something dangerous to vampires. Then they can burn me or stake me without a trial.”

  He had the wand. She knew it. “So you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

  “Yes, you could say that.”

  She’d be saving his life if she could find the wand and steal it from him. It might at least assuage some of her guilt over using him to get it.

  “Let me come to your house with you. After the insurance adjuster has a chance to evaluate the damage, I can help you clean up.” And she could search for the wand. If it was on the premises, she’d be able to feel its power. She decided to follow him, whether he took her with him or not.

  Chris studied her for a long moment. “Once you know who I am, where I live….”

  “If I turned you in now, I’d be considered an accomplice. You’ve just given me money.”

  He nodded. “What about Arnold?”

  “Cerbie is guarding him. But I’ll call Calamity and ask her to come over.”