Dangerous Hexes (Driftwood Mystery Book 2)

by A. L. Tyler

  My hand sizzled and I gasped in pain as the magic pulsed out of me. The flames were burning through the water.

  Nick’s eyes flicked from my engulfed arm to my face. “Are you going to be able to—?”

  “I’m trying!” I glared.

  He gripped the counter with both hands. Through the steam and the noise, I tried to distract myself by looking around the apartment.

  No window treatments. No furniture. Bare floors.

  “Vacant unit?” I asked.

  “Since last fall.” He was still gripping the counter, staring at the floor. “It’s the unit below mine. I leave music on at all hours of the night. I lose a lot of neighbors that way. Jette.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Angel—”

  “Don’t.”

  He slammed a fist on the counter. The tile back splash shattered. The flames were subsiding, but they were still there. When Nick grabbed me by the shoulders and pinned me against the wall, my initial shock forced them to stutter out.

  He looked directly into my eyes. “You need to talk to Angel.”

  I gave a single nod. I was already wishing that I hadn’t pissed off Angel so severely.

  The intensity in Nick’s eyes and the way his lips parted just slightly made me wonder when he’d last eaten. His half-lidded eyes wandered to my throat before locking with my gaze.

  “You never left music on while I was staying with you.”

  He turned away, inspecting the destroyed back splash. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  He stopped. Preternatural calm overtook him. “You didn’t. I’m taking you home.”

  “Millie—”

  He didn’t look happy. “Millie will have to wait. I can’t leave you alone, and I can’t take you on the job like this.”

  “But Millie—”

  “She’s gone,” he said with finality. “Stop reminding me. You need a day. Let’s go.”

  He didn’t bother trying to make me talk during the drive. When we got back to my house I went straight for the bath. I sat in the water with magic blaring in my ears while Robert hissed and growled. Nick made muffled phone calls.

  When he finally returned to speak to me, I was glad to already be in the tub. I was still fully clothed in the water, as usual.

  “Angel says you called her earlier today. She also says she’s not in the mood to deal with you now.” He sighed heavily. “I’m guessing your plan is to spend your remaining days in a bath.”

  “She asks a lot of questions,” I said in irritation. The water had frozen into a thin crust across the surface of the tub. I redirected the song of the magic to start the thaw.

  “She has a method.”

  “She disrespected me.”

  “She’s the best there is. If you want to start the treatments the Order has sanctioned, I can make that happened, but—”

  I looked sharply over at him. The water around me immediately started a rolling boil. Tendrils of steam blocked my view. “Are you telling me this isn’t sanctioned treatment? Gods, is she even licensed?”

  Nick didn’t blink. “She’s off the books.”

  “Who is she?”

  He turned his back against the wall and sank down to sit at my eye level. “She’s a powerhouse, but you need to earn her trust. Answer her questions.”

  “No.” I looked at him in disgust and disbelief. “I’m not talking to a total stranger about my life. She needs to earn my trust first.”

  “One of you has to back down.” He leveled his intense gaze at me. “And the way I see it, you are not in a position to negotiate. Whatever it is—whatever you’re hiding—you need to ask yourself if it’s worth taking to your grave.”

  I scoffed.

  Nick rested his arms on his knees. He’d removed his jacket, and his shoulder holster was a beautiful contrast against his crisp white collared shirt.

  “You are going to die,” he said gravely. “I know you’re young, and you think you’re invincible. I also know that a lot of shit baggage comes with the first time you kill someone. And what happened with Kane—”

  “Stop.” Shit baggage was right, even if it didn’t begin to cover it. I had filed away the night of my near-death experience—and all the men I had killed in self-defense—because I didn’t like to think about it.

  About me. With George Roost missing, I had to wonder if murder was one more thing Millie and I had in common.

  “You don’t have to talk to me.” Nick stood up. “But you should talk to Angel. You can trust her. Anything you’re hiding isn’t worth dying for.”

  Isn’t it, though? I closed my eyes in defeat. If I was dead, no one would ever free my father. No one would get justice for what had happened to us. I was going to die if I didn’t talk to Angel.

  If Angel told anyone what I was doing, I was as good as dead anyway. After a lifetime of lying my way into the Bleak’s good graces and strangers I couldn’t trust, telling the truth and trusting a stranger were about as far from my nature as I could imagine.

  Nick trusted her, though. Not that it meant much. The last friend of Nick’s that I’d cozied up to had literally shot me in the head before I turned him into a pile of ashes.

  “What does she know about you?”

  He wasn’t surprised by the question. Nor was he happy about it. “The truth.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Cryptic much?”

  “Angel doesn’t accept normal compensation for her work. She’s pricey, and she’s worth it. She knows more than anyone’s supposed to, but she will keep your secrets.” He glanced uncomfortably down at me. “If she couldn’t, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Leave it at that.”

  Nick gave one little nod before turning to leave, but he hesitated when he got to the door.

  “What?” I demanded in a low voice.

  “Whent called me this morning,” he said. “To reschedule your remaining deposition.”

  I stared straight ahead. I didn’t have a response for him.

  “I’m pushing it off. I know you have a lot right now—”

  “It’s fine,” I said quickly. “It’s fine. Whenever he wants to do it is fine.”

  MY BARE FEET WERE COLD on the tile floor as I stared at my wet hair in the bathroom mirror. I hadn’t had any burns in my sleep, and as I listened to the subtle sounds of Nick’s magical accoutrements, I knew why.

  He’d been there, keeping an eye and ear out in case I flared up, so I slept in a bed instead of a bathtub. But more so, he was just there.

  I was beginning to enjoy the sounds of him. He wasn’t just familiar. He was wanted, and my own inner anxieties rebelled against me with flaming fury when I worked against him.

  Was that what Angel meant by honesty?

  Either way, I’d decided that I had to get back on her good side. I needed her more than she needed me, and if it meant letting her have a look into my deeply screwed up soul, so be it.

  I could take her in a fight. Probably.

  When I went downstairs, I almost assumed that Nick had stepped out. A slight movement in the corner of my eye made me turn and start.

  Flames erupted from my fingers. Even through the pain, I sighed in relief. It was Robert, rising to stretch before he turned another circle and lay down on Nick’s chest. Nick was lying on the couch, only his thumb moving as he read messages on his phone.

  “You’re going to have to get used to having a cat.” He didn’t even bother to look up.

  I silenced the flames. “I see you’ve made your peace with Robert.”

  “It’s a predator thing. We get each other.” Robert hoped down and Nick sat up. “You should call him Bobby. He likes Bobby better.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes as I grabbed the first can of caffeine I found in the fridge before heading out the door.

  “No breakfast?” Nick followed me out.

  I lifted the can to give him a better view.

  He rushed ahead of me to open the car door. �
��That’s not breakfast.”

  “That’s pretentious.” I nodded to his hand on the open car door.

  His smile was a little too self-satisfied. “I see you’ve decided to talk to Angel, or you wouldn’t be this moody.”

  “Shut up.” I got in the car.

  Nick shut the door behind me and came around to the driver’s seat. He paused when he put the keys in the ignition. “Are you good?”

  “Drive the damn car.”

  “If you flame out in this car, I will be pissed.”

  “I can stay here,” I said testily.

  He shook his head. “There may be a sociopath out to kill you. I need to hunt down a thief who may be responsible for the disappearance of a very wealthy man. Are you going to flame out again?”

  I looked him directly in the eye. “No.”

  He drove.

  Chapter 16

  WHEN WE ENTERED GEORGE Roost’s apartment, Nick went straight for the pictures on the mantle as he fished the necklace from his pocket.

  This time, we didn’t bother with the landlord. There was a time for diplomacy and a time for urgency—this was the latter.

  “There,” I said, pointing to the picture Millie had left on its face.

  Nick picked it up and compared the necklace, his lip curling. “We missed something. The only reason she would have staged that robbery and then lied about the necklace was to get us here.” He glanced around uncertainly, and we both listened. “The place hasn’t blown up, and no one’s murdering us, so it has to be Roost.”

  “Does it?” I asked.

  “She wanted me to look into Mabe’s disappearance.”

  “George Roost isn’t here,” I said, turning around and glancing over his expertly decorated dining room. “Either she’s the reason he’s gone, and it makes no sense that she purposely got the Bleak’s attention afterward, or she didn’t know Roost was missing and this is a hell of a coincidence.” I paused, trying to reason it out. Both explanations rubbed me the wrong way. “Have you followed up with his employer about the business trip?”

  Nick flashed a dark smile at me. In the bright and sunny space of the living room, with the charmingly planted aquarium behind him, I felt oddly out of place. “I didn’t tell you? George isn’t employed.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “He isn’t employed, or...?”

  “If he is, no one knows. That’s what I was chasing down when Millie made her escape. I asked around, and it appears George has been living off of his family’s money for the last several years. Since Mabe’s disappearance.” He raised his chin, knowing what I was going to ask. “I checked his financial records. I didn’t find any unusual payments. If George was making money on the side, he was keeping it in cash somewhere. Or, someone was considerate enough to send his landlord an unnecessary note explaining an absence that would have gone unnoticed.”

  “And pay his rent, and set up a feeder for his fish,” I added. I walked toward the kitchen. “That doesn’t help us. I don’t like either of those stories.”

  “We missed something,” Nick repeated. “Start looking. This time, you do the kitchen and the bedroom. We know someone was in here touching his mail. Look for anything that’s missing or doesn’t belong.”

  I spun around to face him. He was checking the backs of all the family pictures on the walls. “How the hell do I look for something that’s missing?”

  “The same way you listen to something that doesn’t make a sound,” he said sarcastically. “You manage.”

  “And, again, synesthesia isn’t a damn super power. I can’t just click my heels and see shit that’s been stolen.”

  “Someone was in here, and with the pains they took to cover their tracks, they didn’t want people to know. That usually means they hid a camera—which I did not find—or they took something. And as it would be weird...” He purposefully looked at me. “...though not impossible that Roost’s burglar and possible kidnapper is human, it’s more likely someone from our world. Someone who stole something, and as the place wasn’t ripped apart, they may have used a finding spell to locate whatever they were after. So, click your heels, snap your fingers, and do whatever the hell else you need to do. Tell me if there’s any remnants of misplaced magic here at all.”

  “Right.” I stared at him. Any finding spell used here would have been minor magic and all trace of it would be long gone.

  At best, we could hope to find something that Millie had touched with her bare hands. If there was anything, we could use it to find her... But Millie always wore gloves, and that was going to be a problem. We could definitely use something to find George now that we knew he was truly missing... Assuming, of course, that he was still alive. My spell wouldn’t work on a dead man.

  As Nick watched me expectantly, I raised my hand and sarcastically snapped my fingers.

  Down the hallway on my left, the mail dropped through the slot on the door. I looked over in surprise. Nick’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Huh.” I stared at the mail on the floor. “Well. That was weird.”

  Nick went over, but he stopped short of picking anything up. He looked to me.

  I shrugged. “Nothing. Coincidence. You honestly think someone put a spell on the door so mail comes through the slot when someone snaps their fingers?”

  “We’ve had a few too many coincidences lately.” He picked up the mail, flipping through it quickly. “Damn it.”

  He flipped an envelope to show me the addressees on the front. Atop George Roost’s address, it read “Other Woman & Vampire”.

  Nick flipped his jacket back, hunting for something in the lineup of small vials on his left side.

  “There’s no magic in that envelope,” I said.

  Nick picked a vial and tipped it into his mouth. “It’s a preventative. There could be anything in there. There could be anthrax.”

  “You are so old.” I paused. “And a vampire—the hell do you care if there’s anthrax in that envelope?”

  He gave me a quick glare before opening the envelope and withdrawing a folded picture printed on standard paper in black and white. It showed a man tied to a chair. He was gagged and appeared exhausted, but was otherwise unharmed.

  “It’s Roost.” Nick handed the picture to me.

  I stared in disbelief. “Why would she do this?”

  “Fuck. Fuck!”

  Nick had pulled something else from the envelope. A postcard. The front image was only white text on a glossy background: Salem, 1692.

  Nick turned the card so I could read the writing on the back.

  Come and get me!

  2534 Geyser Lane, Dearley WY

  Xoxo

  I grabbed the envelope from Nick. The post date told me she’d sent it the day we found her at the diner. The card wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need a signature. The curly prose and dark humor fit Millie’s personality exactly.

  We were now on a literal witch hunt.

  NICK NEARLY RIPPED the door off the hinges as he blew out of the apartment. I was surprised the mailman didn’t crap his pants when he started barking questions.

  I had to physically put myself between the two men before Nick backed off.

  “He’s a mailman! Let him go! He’s just a postal worker!” I grabbed the front of Nick’s shirt to push him away.

  He might as well have been a brick wall, but I think the frost on my fingertips caught his attention. He glared at the mailman, then at me.

  He turned and stalked away.

  I followed him at a half-run out the front door. I was surprised he didn’t rip the door off his Chevelle when he got in.

  “Get in the car.”

  I crossed my arms, standing next to the passenger door. “Nope.”

  Nick leaned over and glared up at me through the window. “I’m not joking. Get in the car.”

  “Neither am I. I’ll get in the car when you calm down.”

  “I’m calm.”

  “You’re not.”

  He got out
of the car and came around, opening the passenger door and waving for me to get in. “I’m pissed, but I am calm enough to drive.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He flashed the postcard up between us. “Long drive. I’d ask permission to use magic, but it’s generally not a great idea to admit after the fact that you didn’t tell them something you should have told them about picking up Millie Corm and a Roost she may have murdered by now. So let’s see if we can clean this mess up before anyone else notices. If not, we’re already too far up Shit’s Creek to make it any worse.”

  I bit my lip, nodding. “Marge is going to have to watch my cat.”

  Nick nodded bitterly. He gestured at the passenger seat again.

  I slid into the seat, pulling out my phone as he slammed the door. Nick got back behind the wheel as I typed out a quick message about Robert and being gone a few days. Maybe longer.

  Gods knew what was waiting for us in Wyoming. Nick started the car, and we drove.

  My phone buzzed—a new message from Marge.

  Will do for Robert. LI now a resident of Red Oakes Elder Care in Quiltor.

  I ran a search on my phone to figure out where Quiltor was. My triumph at having found Louis Irvine immediately dissolved into disappointment. It was an hour outside of Waybill—in the wrong direction. Further from my house. Much, much further from the direction I was traveling now.

  My investigation into Samson Grift was stalled until our business in Wyoming was finished.

  “Marge can’t watch the cat?”

  I glanced over at Nick.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. There’s so many mice in that place, he’ll do fine.”

  I shook my head. My mood wasn’t going to improve anytime soon, and I had to say something. “Marge is fine. She says she can watch the cat. It’s just... Angel. Angel is frustrating.”

  I didn’t know if Nick was talking to Angel regularly, but my guess was yes, so I typed out a quick text to her.

  I’m ready.

  I sighed in defeat, shaking my head. My Grift situation was turning into a tight deadline: I wouldn’t be able to talk to Louis Irvine until we were back, but I wouldn’t be able to meet with Angel, either. Assuming I went for Irvine first thing, I might still be able to force his confession on Grift—or anything he knew about my father—before I had to evade Angle again.