Charming Blue

by Kristine Grayson

  Then that moment passed, and he looked at her.

  His eyes were sad, and the corners of his mouth tightened.

  “How all those women died,” he said softly, and then turned back toward the door.

  Jodi almost asked what he meant, and then she realized exactly what he meant. The women hadn’t died from some vision that somehow erased them or caused their hearts to stop. They’d been murdered. Horribly murdered, with pain and loss and violence.

  The magic had become real, just like it had in her room, and that was something awful.

  “This is moving incredibly fast though, don’t you think?” she asked him.

  He frowned slightly, as if her question surprised him. Then the frown cleared. She wondered what he had thought: Was he thinking she had meant the hug? She hadn’t, although her feelings for him were stronger than she wanted them to be, and they had become strong faster than she wanted them to.

  “I mean,” she said, because she suddenly felt the need to clarify, “if we can believe the news reports, it takes the Fairy Tale Stalker weeks to visit his victims again.”

  “Victims,” Blue repeated, as if the word bothered him.

  She supposed it did, on some level, because she was wrong: the Fairy Tale Stalker himself didn’t have victims. The curse did.

  “Yes,” he said. “If you compare this to the Fairy Tale Stalker case, this is moving a lot faster. But if you look at what happened in my past, it’s right on pace.”

  Her stomach clenched. If it was right on pace, then she was in even more trouble than she thought. Because those women ended up dead.

  “You remember now?” she asked.

  “I thought I had misremembered,” he said. “When you drink as much as I did, you have to figure—I have to figure—that I did a lot of damage to my memory. But apparently I didn’t do as much as I thought. So, yes, that’s a long way of saying I’m beginning to trust my memories more and more.”

  “And what do you remember?” Jodi asked softly.

  But apparently not softly enough. Because suddenly Tank was hovering over them, as if she had a right to this information. Maybe she did.

  What maybe? Of course she did. She was, theoretically, Jodi’s client.

  Blue glanced at Tank, gave her a small smile of welcome, then returned his attention to Jodi.

  “It took about five days,” he said. “But that’s from my perspective. Five days from a conversation about some inappropriate flirtation in her bedroom to my finding her… head… in that room.”

  His voice wobbled at the end of that. Tank flew lower and peered at him. Jodi recognized that look. Tank wanted to ask a question.

  But so did Jodi, and she butted in first.

  “A room?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “That part of the fairy tale is true. All of the—oh God, you know. They were in a room, on frickin’ pedestals, with scarves beneath them, like a display of marble sculptures. Only these weren’t marble.”

  “Scarves?” Jodi asked as Tank asked, “Was there blood?”

  “Yes, scarves,” Blue said to Jodi, and then he looked at Tank. “And no, there was no blood in the room. In my memory, though…”

  He let his voice trail off.

  That seemed odd to Jodi. “Not even dried blood?”

  There would have to be. Given the technology at the time, it would have been impossible to sever a head without sawing it off, leaving a lot of mess and blood. It would have taken magic to make those heads look like sculptures.

  Tank had moved down far enough to peer at Jodi. Clearly this had Tank’s attention as well.

  “No blood that I could see,” Blue said, “but as I said, there were scarves.”

  “So where were you an hour ago?” That was a new voice.

  Jodi turned. Selda was striding across the far side of the pool, clearly going around the invisible crime scene barrier. She was wearing sweats, which Jodi had never seen her in before, and her hair was pulled away from her face. It took Jodi a minute to realize that Selda probably thought this was crime scene attire.

  Selda hadn’t been speaking to Jodi. She was speaking to Blue.

  He turned, slowly, reluctantly (unless Jodi missed her guess), and said, “I was in my new apartment. If you don’t believe me, ask Gunther. Or look at the video Jodi made of my every move.”

  Her breath caught. How had he known?

  He gave her a sideways smile, as if she had asked the question out loud. “You didn’t think I’d miss the cameras, did you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I did. No one else knows about them.”

  Not that she spied on everyone who lived in the complex. Most of the apartments had no tech at all. But that one did. It was the place she put potential clients who might cause some kind of trouble.

  She didn’t think Blue would cause problems, but she wanted a record of where he was if that creature/image/thing had showed up again. Which it had.

  He let out a small chuckle, quiet, as if it was just for her. “I didn’t see them either. But they make sense.”

  She wanted to whack him on the arm playfully, the way that friends did when something happened between them. But she restrained herself.

  Selda saw the interchange, however. Selda didn’t miss much.

  “Well, good,” Selda said, still speaking to Blue. “Because I really didn’t want this to be something you caused.”

  “Technically,” he said. “It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t noticed Jodi—”

  “Save it,” Selda said impatiently. “This is beyond goo-goo-eyed looks and hints of attraction. This is something big. Curses shouldn’t become corporeal, and this one has. I had hoped, when Jodi told me that she thought this was a curse, that everything existed in your imagination, Blue. But it doesn’t.”

  Blue stood up straighter, putting his shoulders back. “My imagination?”

  His voice had grown softer, but it held a bit of anger.

  Of course, Selda didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes, your imagination,” Selda said. “That’s how most curses work. They manipulate the reality of the cursed, but everyone else is left alone.”

  “Those women died,” Blue said, his voice even softer.

  “Oh, that’s the first thing I checked,” Selda said. “And yes, they’re gone, and you’re not the only one who saw their remains.”

  Blue nodded. “I told you that.”

  “And you’re the one who is at the center of this,” Selda said. “So forgive me if I didn’t believe the entire story without doing a little digging.”

  She had an edge to her voice now as well. She and Blue really didn’t like each other.

  “Forgive you,” Blue repeated softly, with just a hint of sarcasm. “Yeah, I suppose I could forgive you.”

  Jodi’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want these two to fight. She couldn’t have them fight and help Blue. Or herself, for that matter.

  “This curse, Blue’s curse,” she said to Selda, “it seems to be on a faster track than the Fairy Tale Stalker’s curse.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed that,” Selda said. “I’m thinking that perhaps it’s a different cursecaster.”

  “No,” Blue said with confidence. “It’s the same one.”

  Jodi looked at him. His jaw was set. “How do you know?”

  “I spent the afternoon on this,” he said to her, not looking at Selda at all. “And I found a couple of things. First, as far as I can tell, the new curse isn’t that much different from mine.”

  “It’s happening slower,” Jodi said.

  “Which is the sign of a cursecaster in control of his magic,” Blue said. “Early curses are often too strong.”

  Selda made a small sound. Jodi looked over at her. Selda nodded slightly. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said.

  “And secondly, the curse is still focused on me,” Blue said. “It’s personal against me.”

  “And you are, of course, the center of the universe,” Seld
a said.

  Jodi felt a surge of anger, but she tamped it down. She had never seen Selda like this.

  “No, he has a point,” Jodi said. “The image, it mentioned Bluebeard more than once.”

  “So?” Selda said.

  “So,” Blue said softly. “I’m in LA. I never advertise my presence anywhere, and no one bothered me for a long time. I disappeared. But in the last decade or so, I got lonely and I got drunk, so I went to parties when I was drunk—”

  “I know,” Selda muttered.

  “—and people noticed me. I suppose the word would have gotten back to the Kingdoms that I was still alive. But from this cursecaster’s point of view, I had circumvented the curse somehow. He wanted me to get in trouble again. He sent someone out to be me so I would get arrested, or something worse.”

  “Put to death,” Selda said.

  Jodi shook her head. “It takes years for mortals to catch someone and at least a decade after that to execute anyone.”

  “And I’m supposed to know that how?” Selda said. Which was a good point. If Selda, who had lived here for decades, didn’t know it, then how was some cursecaster who had one foot still in the Kingdoms supposed to know? Most of the magical who came here from the Kingdoms never really did understand how mortals conducted their business and, more to the point, never really tried.

  “But if he wanted to kill you,” Selda said, “why didn’t he just get it over with? He has the magic power to kill the women.”

  Blue shrugged. “You understand magic better than I do.”

  Selda frowned and looked at Jodi. Jodi opened her hands. “I specialize in white magic.”

  “So do I,” Selda said, as if they were blaming her for the bad stuff. Which they weren’t.

  Jodi didn’t know how to avoid the toxic relationship between Blue and Selda. In fact, she wanted to fix it, but she also knew that wasn’t something she could focus on right now.

  Sometimes that fixer part of her got in the way.

  “All of this arguing, of course, is ridiculous,” Selda said as if she wasn’t a part of it. She must have seen the expression on Jodi’s face. “Our concern is this curse or whatever it is. It’s dangerous, and its next victim is clearly going to be Jodi, unless we figure out what to do next.”

  “Is that why you brought out the big guns?” Blue asked, nodding toward all the activity around Jodi’s sliding glass doors.

  “Those aren’t a protection detail,” Selda said as if Blue was stupid. “That’s the magical crime scene folks.”

  “I know,” Blue said in that soft sarcastic tone again.

  “Magic leaves evidence—traces, if you will,” Selda said. “Those traces will take us back to the cursecaster. But it’ll take time.”

  “How much time?” Jodi asked.

  Selda shrugged, looking over her shoulder at the increasing number of workers, all of them consulting about each small detail.

  “A while,” she said.

  “We don’t have a while,” Blue said. “This part of the curse, my part, will be over in days.”

  Fortunately, he didn’t say Jodi would be dead in days, because that would sound bad, particularly considering the mood Selda was in. Selda might take it as a threat.

  “I have no idea how long this will take,” Selda said, looking at Jodi. Did Jodi see an apology in her eyes? Worry? Jodi wasn’t sure. “But I thought it was our best bet.”

  “It’ll help you catch this cursecaster,” Jodi said.

  “But it won’t help Jodi,” Blue said.

  “Well, then, it’s settled,” Tank said, lowering herself so that she was between the three of them. Tank’s wings were beating so hard that she actually had achieved that buzz that hummingbirds had.

  Jodi had actually forgotten that Tank was hovering near the conversation. But now that Tank had inserted herself in it, Jodi wouldn’t have been surprised if Tank just contributed a bit of sarcasm: Settled that Jodi must sacrifice herself to keep your stupid schedule, Selda.

  Of course, that wasn’t Tank’s thought. That was Jodi’s. She tried to keep the bitterness off her face. Apparently she was on her own on this one.

  “What’s settled?” Jodi asked.

  “You’ll just have to stay with Blue,” Tank said, and it took Jodi a moment to realize that Tank was talking to her.

  “What?” Jodi asked.

  “Well, you can’t go back in the house, right? Because it’s a crime scene.” Tank whirled so that the “right?” was directed at Selda. Then she whirled back to Jodi. “And it’s pretty clear that you shouldn’t be left alone.”

  “Yes, but Tank, I’m sure there are people who can actually protect Jodi,” Blue said. “People with real magic.”

  Apparently he didn’t think his charm magic was real. Jodi noted that in passing as this conversation continued to spin out of control.

  “But others can’t protect her as well as you can, Blue,” Tank said.

  Blue and Selda started to protest, but Tank waved a small hand at them.

  “Read the fairy tales, consult your memory, whatever you need to do,” Tank said, “because it’s pretty clear to me that none of those women died when they were with Blue.”

  Jodi’s breath caught. Tank was right. The women had died away from Blue—away from anyone, if her experience was anything to go by. Alone, asleep, and vulnerable.

  “That can’t be true,” Blue said. “I saw them die.”

  “Magical memories, remember?” Tank asked. “You have images inserted into your brain of killing them. But you didn’t do it.”

  Blue looked at Jodi. Something in his eyes pleaded with her. It was too much for him; he clearly didn’t understand it all.

  “Brilliant,” Selda said to Tank. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s true. You can protect her best, Blue.”

  Blue shook his head. Jodi put her hand on his arm.

  “The curse wouldn’t have worked if you had been with them,” she said. “You would have known that you weren’t the one hurting them.”

  His mouth was open slightly, the now-familiar frown between his eyes deeper than it had been before.

  “What if I am hurting you?” he whispered.

  “You’re not,” Tank said, ruining the moment. “Otherwise there wouldn’t be images of you doing something else at the time. I’ve known you a long time, Blue, and a technical wizard you’re not.”

  His gaze didn’t leave Jodi’s. She could feel his fear. He didn’t trust himself, and why should he? Not after all of those years believing the worst.

  Even if Tank’s idea was wrong, even if the curse could be activated with Blue in the room, it would still be better to be at his side than to leave him alone with his personal demons. Because he needed to see that the curse had nothing to do with him. Well, it had a lot to do with him, but he wasn’t the one harming people.

  He needed real confirmation of that.

  “I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Jodi said. “And since I can’t go into my house anyway, I need a place to kick off my shoes and relax. Your apartment is perfect for that.”

  “You don’t have any clothes,” Blue said, clearly grappling for an excuse to keep her away.

  “True enough,” Jodi said with a smile. “But that’s what stores are for.”

  Then she turned to Selda, who was watching their interaction with something like disbelief. Or maybe it was disgust. Jodi couldn’t tell, and she didn’t want to tell.

  “Can you do something to get these people to hurry?” Jodi asked. “Because we don’t have a lot of time here.”

  Selda nodded. “I’ll do what I can. But magic does what it does.”’

  “Then find someone to break the curse,” Tank said.

  “I’m working on that too,” Selda said. The harsh expression left her face. She reached out to Blue almost, but not quite, touching his arm. “Keep her safe.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a bit of wonder. “You can bet everything that I will.”

 
Chapter 38

  Yes, ma’am. He had sounded so sincere. You can bet everything that I will. Keep Jodi safe. Him, Bluebeard. The first mass murderer of all time.

  The first serial killer, in modern parlance.

  Everyone else believed he was cursed. He did too, intellectually. But now Jodi was gambling her life on it, and he didn’t want that.

  He didn’t know how to get out of it, though.

  He thought about ways to get out of it the entire time that Jodi drove him around Larchmont Village, stopping frequently to dash in and out of boutiques. First, she picked up shoes, which surprised him. Stores he had gone into barefoot (and drunk) had always used the lack of shoes to kick him out.

  Mostly, though, she picked up clothes that were on hold for her, or things in her size that she passed on the way to the checkout. The sales associates all seemed to know her and seemed to be prepared for her arrival.

  It wasn’t until Jodi hit the third store that Blue realized this was how she always shopped: the associates held clothing for her until her next arrival, and then she sorted through it.

  Each stop in each store lasted no longer than ten minutes.

  Still, he was flagging by the time she ordered two take-out pizzas at a pizzeria with one of those “Best in LA” stickers on its window. He expected something foo-foo, but the pies in their cardboard boxes smelled of tomato and mozzarella and garlic.

  His stomach growled. He was hungry, and he hadn’t realized it. He had been thinking too hard, still trying to find a way to stay away from her and yet keep her safe.

  He intellectually believed that Tank’s conclusion was the correct one: No one would hurt Jodi while she was with him. But he had thought of himself as a monster for so long—untrustworthy, difficult—that he worried he would be the one to hurt her.

  The back of the convertible was filled with shopping bags, pizza, and some real food from a trendy deli, so that they would have breakfast and lunch for the next day, or so Jodi said.

  She seemed to be in her element, shopping and organizing, as if nothing had happened to her at all.

  Maybe that was how she coped. But it seemed strange to him. He was still shaken by the strange scene at her house. And then he felt guilty as they pulled up at the apartment complex, parking next to Marilyn’s blue convertible.