“Dude, I work here! My cousin Leslie is a housekeeper, she got me the job.” The fear in his eyes was slowly replaced with something else, something excited and curious. “Who did you think I was? Are you, like, a spy or something?”
I didn’t answer him, and after a moment I relaxed my hold, stepping back. He’d passed through my warded door without incident, but…“Stand right there. Don’t make any sudden moves.”
Spencer held his hands up. “Sure, man, anything you say.” We watched each other closely as I backed my way to the bedside table where my collection of gadgets lay discarded.
Pressing Cam’s danger disk to the man’s forehead resulted in nothing remarkable, but he nearly went cross-eyed trying to see what I was doing. “What does that do?”
“Right now, it keeps you from getting your ass kicked.” If the thing was working, this guy wasn’t any kind of danger to me. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I finally let him go, but I refused to put my back to him. “I didn’t order breakfast.”
Spencer advanced slowly, making sure I could see his hands at all times, and picked up a slip of paper from the cart. “Standing order for this room. You’ll have breakfast every morning, unless you cancel it.”
“Who requested it?”
“Doesn’t say, so probably whoever set up the room reservation?”
Somehow, I wouldn’t have expected Axel to order me breakfast. It was more than a little odd. I lifted one of the metal lids to find a heaping pile of bacon and sausage and a couple of eggs over easy, just the way I liked them. I almost sent it back right then, out of sheer spite. Axel didn’t deserve to know me that well.
Still, bacon was bacon. I munched on a piece, figuring if it was poisoned, I’d at least die happy. “So…giving up on screenwriting already?”
Spencer chuckled. “Nah. Just gotta eat between now and my multimillion-dollar deal. Figure pushing a cart is better than digging ditches, right?”
“If you say so.”
“It’s weird that you’re here, ’cause I was just thinking about you this morning.” He picked up a folded newspaper off the cart, flipping to one of the inner sections, and offered it to me. “You made the news.”
My heart sank as I found my own picture gracing the front page of the entertainment section. The headline read GRETCHEN KEENE’S MYSTERY DATE, and the picture was obviously one from the club last night. Probably one from the photographer I’d flattened, judging by the background. “Fuck.”
Spencer grinned. “I was trying to tell my cousin I knew that guy, and she didn’t believe me. Can’t wait to tell her you’re up here. How long have you been seeing Gretchen Keene?”
“I’m not.” Mira was gonna kill me. I prayed to all higher powers that this didn’t make it back to Missouri. “Just doing a job.” I skimmed the article a little. Most of it was wild speculation, though there was a rather lengthy mention of me attacking the poor guy with the camera. He was magnanimously declining to press charges.
“Like what kind of job?” I could tell that Spencer had dreams of intrigue and scandal running through his head.
“Don’t you have other orders to deliver?”
“Oh, yeah. Probably.” He stared at me for a few moments.
“What?”
“You gonna tip?”
“Get out.” I threw the newspaper at him as he retreated.
This was so not how I wanted to start my day. Even half a pound of bacon and a long hot shower didn’t really perk me up any. My shirt for the day said STICK THAT IN YOUR JUICE BOX AND SUCK IT, and that was really how I felt about things so far. Last night had left me grumpy and annoyed and feeling increasingly useless here. As near as I could tell, Gretchen was just fine. Could I go home now please?
When another knock sounded at my door, I just knew it was Spencer, probably with the entire kitchen staff in tow. “Hey, I know! Let’s go gawk at the sideshow freak!” I threw the door open, ready to rip his annoying head off, only to find another employee standing there with a two-wheeled dolly bearing my armor and sword case. “You were expecting these, sir?”
“Oh. Yes, I was.” Him, I tipped.
It felt good to have my gear again. I unpacked everything, double-and triple-checking it even though I’d just had my hands on it yesterday morning. The metal still tingled under my fingers, evidence of Cam’s good work.
The Way had travelled well it seemed. I went through a few slow strikes with the new sword, feeling the differences between it and my original. Heavier on the back end, but it seemed to fit well with my own personal fighting style. As I held it, the bone hilt warmed in my hand.
I know, swords don’t really have personalities and all. But…when it’s the one thing between you and dying most of the time, you couldn’t help but assign it traits, characteristics. My old sword had been female. Don’t know why I always felt that way, but I did. This one wasn’t. It was male, rock steady in my grip but with a brightness to it that reminded me of a shooting star. Fire in the night.
Since I hadn’t really had a chance to put it through its paces before I left town, I grabbed the first thing I could find—a piece of paper off the desk—and slid it along the sharp edge of the blade. The paper curled off like butter melting. Verrrrry nice. I found out the sword would also slice through the apple that came with my breakfast, my plain black T-shirt from the previous night, and the entire newspaper. The confetti-like shreds of paper fluttering all over my floor made me feel a little better.
Gear unpacked and safely stowed out of sight, I salvaged the breakfast coffee and finally went in search of Her Highness.
I could hear the voices down at the end of the hall long before I got to the door. Gretchen I recognized. The other woman was new.
Tai answered the door when I knocked, murmuring under his breath, “Watch it, we’re in the blast zone.”
His meaning became clear once I got a look at the two females squared off against each other in the middle of the room.
Gretchen may have just rolled out of bed—at least, I assumed that’s why she was still wearing a tiny little satin nightgown—but her hair and makeup looked like she’d just stepped out of a salon. Demon magic, or just natural beauty? Hard to say.
The other woman was older. Her blond hair was sprinkled liberally with gray streaks and gathered up into a utilitarian ponytail. Her blue jeans showed no signs of wear, and her blouse was fashionable, but I recognized them as cheap brands. You know, stuff normal people wore. When she turned her head a bit, I could see the high cheekbones and flashing blue eyes, just like Gretchen’s. A relative, maybe? A mother.
The instant I thought that, I knew I was right. Moms stand a certain way, take a certain tone with their children. Mine could still reduce me to a tiny little ball of shame with one glance, when warranted. That’s a mother-son thing. I hear with daughters, it’s different. Lotta emotions tied up in those relationships, both good and bad. So this was definitely some kind of mother-daughter…thing.
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, and I saw that Bobby and Dante had already taken refuge over near the bar, pretending not to see the uncomfortable face-off.
“If you want to tell her you’re not coming, you make that phone call yourself. You explain to her why you can’t be bothered to come to your sister’s wedding.” Mom planted her hands on her hips, and I know if I’d been the recipient of that glare, I’d have caved instantly. I’m a big weenie when it comes to my mom.
“I already told her I’d probably be busy that week.” Gretchen waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not like they’ve missed me at any other event.”
“Busy, my rear end. You had eight months to make time to be with your family. Eight months, Gina.”
“Gretchen! Is it so hard to say?” Uh-oh. The starlet’s hands were likewise planted on her hips, the two women nearly identical. I knew that stance. That stance said there would be no resolution today. Maybe not ever. “The only reason she even wants me there is so I can buy her some expens
ive damn wedding present. I’ll mail her a fucking gift card and she’ll be thrilled.”
The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room before I even realized Mom had moved. “You will not use that foul language in my presence, young lady. I raised you better than that.”
Gretchen’s hand pressed over her reddening cheek, the rest of her face pale white. “Get out. Don’t you ever come back here again.”
“Fine.” Mom bit off the word and snatched her purse up off the couch, slinging it up on her shoulder. “Call your sister.” The woman stalked past Tai and me without even looking at us, but her dramatic exit was ruined by some kind of stumble at the door. “Oh, excuse me…”
Before any of us could say anything, she was gone, and a hotel employee was inside, bearing a giant bouquet of assorted flowers. How the poor man could even see to walk was beyond me. I could barely see a pair of staring eyes through the leaves of something that looked like a fern. “Um…where should I set this?”
“Goddamn it, all deliveries are supposed to be halted at the desk!” Bobby nearly knocked the hapless delivery man over, getting out the door, no doubt headed to kick some ass.
Gretchen was apparently not interested in the flowers, and stalked to her room, slamming the door with more force than strictly necessary.
Every eye in the place turned toward Dante, who sighed heavily. “I know, I know. I’m the best friend. But if she bashes my brains in, I’m haunting every one of you.” With a major show of reluctance, he went after her, disappearing into the inner sanctum.
When no one else seemed inclined to answer the delivery guy, I pointed over at the bar. “Just set them there, I guess.”
“Yessir.” He did as instructed, then looked at me expectantly.
“Look, you’re apparently not even supposed to bring those up here. You really think you’re going to get a tip?” He looked a bit crestfallen, but nodded and departed without further comment.
Tai shook his head. “Bobby’s gonna have someone’s head on a platter.”
“Yeah, sounds like everyone is just puppies and rainbows today.”
He snorted. “Just another day in the glamorous life of a movie star.”
“Noticed that. The woman was…Gretchen’s mother?” I took Dante’s vacated seat, sipping at my lukewarm coffee. Even halfway cold, it was better than what I usually had at home.
“Mhmm. Her name is Patricia, but everybody calls her Patty.” Tai found a cheese Danish somewhere, munching as he talked. “They’re what we’ll call ‘strained.’”
“No kidding. Gretchen’s not big on acknowledging her roots, I take it?”
“It’s not like that.” Tai mumbled around his breakfast. “After that last stalker go-round, Gretchen cut ties with her family to protect them from stuff like that. But her mom doesn’t see it that way.”
“Can’t blame her there. Her mom, I mean.” Tai looked at me curiously when I said that. “If someone was threatening my daughter? They’d never find all the pieces when I got done. That’s every parent’s first instinct, to protect their child.”
Tai nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess I could see that. But I kinda see where Gretchen comes from, too. It’s hard enough to live in the spotlight without dragging folks along with you. She’s doing them a favor, whether they realize it or not. If she showed up at that wedding, the paparazzi would make it all about Gretchen, and that’s not how she wants her sister’s wedding to be. Gretchen loves Chelsea to death. She’s just trying to do what’s best for her.”
Sadly, explained like that, Gretchen’s actions made sense. I still didn’t like her—that whole soul-stealing thing and all—but I thought maybe I understood her a little more.
Bobby returned from his rampage, face still red and the scar on his jaw standing out in stark white contrast. Tai smirked as his mentor stalked the floor, too wired up to sit down. “Any of them wet their pants?” The former marine just snarled, not ready for humor yet.
About that time, Gretchen’s door opened, and Dante emerged unscathed. “Hey, Tai? Could you call down for the car?”
“Yup.” Tai pulled his cell out of his pocket. “Where are we going?”
“Spa day, apparently.” Dante shrugged. “She called and got an ‘emergency’ appointment with Rolf, and then maybe some retail therapy after. She’s got a meeting at the studio later, too.”
There was a short phone conversation, then Tai plucked at my sleeve. “C’mon, come get the car with me. Bobby’ll bring her down.”
Heading out into the hallway, I paused at the door when the wards felt a bit…off. The invisible barrier was still there, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been yesterday. Dammit, Cam. Were his spells fading already?
A quick examination revealed that the blessed string was still in place, firmly taped and stapled right where I’d left it. Still, there was a distinct difference in how it felt when I passed my arm through it. “Tai? Who’s been in or out of this room today?”
“Um…Me, Bobby…Dante. You. Patty. Room service. The flower guy.”
“Was room service a new guy?” Spencer, maybe?
“No, one of the regulars. His name is Todd.” He came to lean over my shoulder, watching what I was doing. “Why?”
I ran my fingertips along the jamb, but I couldn’t find any specific weak point. Just a general drain of power. “Something’s not right.” Crouching down, I examined the carpet, looking for…well, I didn’t know what. Something that didn’t belong, I guess.
Tai knelt next to me, tilting his head curiously as he wiggled his finger through the barrier. “It’s not as strong as yesterday, right?”
“Right.”
“Is the circuit broken anywhere?” He was still thinking of it as an electrical device, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. If there was an opening in the circle anywhere, it would cease to function. I checked the entire length of string again, and found it all intact. “Maybe your power source is dying? Like, it needs fresh batteries?”
That made something cold settle in my stomach. If Cam’s power was flagging this soon, these things were going to be worthless before day’s end. And I had no way to renew them. “Maybe…I wonder if…”
“Dear God, what is that stench?” Gretchen’s voice startled me out of my thinkings, and we turned to find her planted in the middle of the living room, her pert nose wrinkled in disgust. “Which one of you didn’t shower?” There was a general chorus of “not me’s” from the menfolk, and Gretchen looked at us like we were crazy. “Seriously? None of you smell that?”
Bobby, standing near the dining table, frowned faintly. “Now that you mention it…what is that?” His nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. “Smells like…like stale sweat. Only worse. Like…an entire football team of stale sweat.”
I tested the air myself, dreading that I would find the telltale scent of sulfur. But no, I caught nothing but the subtle fragrance of Gretchen’s perfume. “Where do you smell it?”
“This way.” After a few moments of wandering, Bobby found himself facing the flower bouquet. “Here. It’s something in here, I think.”
Now, what I know about plants could fit on the head of a pin. That’s my wife’s department. But once I got close enough to the assorted flowers and caught the distinctive aroma, I knew exactly what it was, and why it was there.
“Shit.” A little digging into the bouquet revealed a double handful of small leaves, fuzzy-ish, already turning black where the edges had dried. It had been tucked in among the flowers like decorative greenery. “Black horehound.”
“Black whore what?” Dante gave me an accusing look.
“Black horehound,” I enunciated carefully, holding the leaves up for display. “It’s a member of the mint family, but it reeks to high heaven, so no one uses it for much.” The only reason I recognized it was because Mira had received some of this instead of the less offensive white horehound in some supplies for her shop a few summers ago. The smell was…memorable.
Gretche
n came closer to examine the offending foliage. “Why would someone put it in a bouquet?”
“They wouldn’t.” But I knew exactly why it was there. “Black horehound has some medicinal values. I forget what all right now. But it also has the unique ability to absorb magical energies.” Soaked it right up like a sponge, if I remembered Mira’s lecture correctly. Which explained a whole lot about the wards on the door. “Someone thinks they’re gonna need to get in here. They’re trying to disable my wards.”
You know, up until this point, I’d been tempted to pack it all in and go home. I’d seen no signs of danger that Tai or Bobby couldn’t handle, no overt attacks, no hints of anything nefarious. Until now.
And of course, there was no card. That would have been too easy. Why, just once, couldn’t the bad guy just walk up and introduce himself? “Hi, I’m Frank. I’ll be your nemesis this evening.”
“Well, throw it out!” Gretchen snatched up the heavy glass vase and marched toward the door.
“No!” I caught up to her in two strides and carefully removed it from her grasp. “No, if you take it out the door again, it’s just going to weaken the ward more.”
“Well, we can’t have it in here stinking up the place,” she pointed out.
“Chuck it off the balcony?” Tai suggested, but Bobby nixed the idea. “We’re nine stories up. If that hits someone on the ground, it’ll kill them.”
“Can we just pick out all the smelly leaves?” Dante peered at the pile I’d left on the bar, but was careful not to touch.
“I can’t be sure we’d get them all. Or what else someone has put in this thing.” It didn’t feel like any magic, but was that because the horehound was masking it? I rubbed my fingertips together, wondering what effect just handling the leaves would have on Mira’s protective spells.
They were all looking at me, waiting to see what they should do. I hate that.
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