Bait & Switch (Driftwood Mystery Book 1)

by A. L. Tyler

Fuming, I walked down the hall after Nick. I didn’t even try to hide my sneer when I caught up to him in the kitchen, but he was still smirking. I held my hand up, and a perfectly obedient fireball sang to life in my palm as I opened my mouth to tell him exactly how much of a “has-been” I was.

  Then I heard the music.

  It was quiet against the wards he had on his person, but it was unmistakable: a quivering note that trembled up and down like a nervous viola. I looked down and saw the gun in his hand, and I knew what he was packing.

  I swallowed, closing my hand around the fire and smothering it back to silence. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Magic-stripping bullets. I had been a primary consultant on the development of those little beauties, and the grin on Nick’s face told me he knew all about it. One of those bullets could render a magic user as useless as a human. Sometimes for hours or days after the bullet was removed, depending on how long it stayed in.

  And they hurt like a bitch.

  “Something to say, Driftwood?” he asked. There was amusement in his hazel eyes as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter.

  I stared at the gun. The magic stirring within me, mine but also foreign, told me that I could outdraw him.

  Logic told me otherwise.

  The plan.

  “No,” I said. I dropped my arm to my side as I sought my center. An even keel was a hard thing to come by in the presence of Nicolas Warren. If I was going to make this work, I needed to reclaim my power from the effect he had on me. “I just got hungry.”

  His eyes flashed in alarm as I turned to the refrigerator. I froze when I opened it.

  I swallowed nervously. All the pieces started to fall into place.

  All of his spells were learned and not inherent. He had an apartment full of old crap. He preferred to work at night. He had an empty refrigerator.

  Because he didn’t eat normal food.

  He knew a little too much about how the Bleak didn’t care what happened to people in the custody of handlers, and he’d lured me into inviting him into my apartment.

  Nick was a vampire.

  Chapter 8

  I DIDN’T MOVE A MUSCLE except to cast a glance at Nick. He stood as still as a statue, and that wouldn’t have bothered me before, but now I knew he was as still as death.

  As still as a predator ready to pounce. And I knew the work of these predators. Every photo in the evidence room that haunted my nightmares didn’t compare to some of the atrocities of vampires.

  I knew what he was. Why he bore the mark of so much magic, and why all of it had been warded nearly silent.

  He was one of the Bleak’s uncursed.

  That’s why he looked so young. He’d had more years than his face revealed to perfect his spell work and grow his stack of closed cases.

  The Bleak detested vampires. They had nearly exterminated them, but ever a practical group, they did appreciate the utility of workers that never slept. Vampires brought before the Bleak, many of them criminals themselves, had a choice: submit to the will of the Bleak, or die.

  Those who submitted were given an enamel of spell work that allowed them to walk in the daylight, be located by the Bleak, and mostly resist their cravings for blood.

  Mostly.

  And the Bleak didn’t exactly provide them a great deal of the sustenance they needed. They often took it from their bounties, and they were a little more robust than average when it came to magical attacks.

  As an afterthought, the Bleak had put certain restraints on their collared dogs to keep them in check for the gifts they’d been given. Entering certain places—like private residences—without permission would cause them great pain and even death.

  Nick’s years of experience against my raw power wasn’t a fight I wanted to gamble on.

  Nick was right. I should have been more afraid of him.

  He was starving. I was a walking buffet.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I asked.

  He didn’t look happy that I’d asked him so bluntly. “No.”

  “You’re a vampire.”

  He set down his gun—a risky move, except we both knew now that he was faster than I was—and reached out a hand to close the refrigerator door. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’ve worked with... um...”

  A flat lie, and I couldn’t even finish it. I had never worked with a vampire. Vampires weren’t trusted with the elite level of spell decryption and breaking. I hadn’t ever been interested in a social life, so my few previous acquaintances were immediate colleagues.

  “I’m a bad-ass criminal,” I said, trying to stand a little taller. “If you can work with me, I suppose I can forgive some light cannibalism.”

  He snorted a laugh, but his eyes were dark. “You’re not the person your file makes you out to be.”

  I scoffed, suddenly finding it a little harder to look him in the eye. “And what does my file say?”

  “That you’re a bad-ass criminal,” he said in a low tone. “Studied like your life depended on it. No friends. No family. Just the lessons and the work and your particular talent.” He raised his eyebrows. “Synesthesia? You can hear magic?”

  “I can.”

  “That must be an annoying distraction.”

  I shrugged. I’d had this conversation a hundred times before. “I’ve never known life without it. Are you annoyed by the color green? Because anyone who’s lived their life with red-green colorblindness might think you would find it distracting.”

  He nodded. “I see your point. Your file says you were driven. No boyfriends or girlfriends. Not until Alex Mordley—”

  “Alex and I...” I said loudly.

  I didn’t know what to say about Alex, though. We weren’t “just” friends. We weren’t friends at all. We were competition. But we certainly weren’t lovers.

  Not unless you asked him. Even then, I’d kept it at the safe distance of an unspoken flirtation. “We weren’t like that.”

  “He’s how you got into all of this,” Nick said. “You wouldn’t be the first girl to get stuck on the wrong side of the law for being stupid in love.”

  “I picked him,” I snapped. “I saw an opportunity to get back at the Bleak and I took it. I used him.”

  “And funny enough, that’s what your file says.” Nick crossed his arms. “Bad-ass criminal. Cold-blooded and as ruthless as a hungry vampire while you use and discard people trying to enact your vendetta. What a crock.”

  I glared at him. “A crock?”

  “You’re a scared little girl who’s in way over her head.”

  I lit my fireball again.

  Click.

  I hadn’t even seen him move, but a magic cuff was now closed on my wrist. My fireball was gone, and Nick was standing uncomfortably close. His thumb and index finger were still resting on the cuff where he had placed it on my wrist. I took a slow, steadying breath before I looked up to meet his gaze.

  “Don’t,” he said slowly, enunciating each word quietly. “Do. That.”

  I swallowed, trying not to blink as I met his predatory stare.

  He was at least a head taller than I was, and this was the second time he’d bested me with hardly a touch. Impressive. But now that he was close enough, I knew why he didn’t like to touch me.

  Most vampires didn’t breathe or have a pulse, but the ones under the protection of the Bleak did as a byproduct of certain spells. His heart was hammering. Even as he kept his breathing slow and steady, I knew he was breathing deeply.

  Playing the predator excited him. Maybe a little too much.

  He slowly closed his hand around my wrist, his fingers brushing gently where I knew he would feel my pulse. My heart was racing at least as fast as his.

  My eyes were locked on his hand, closed around my wrist, so gentle and yet so dangerous. He knew what Alex would never believe: true power was in potential, not force. He had nothing to prove by physically subduing me. He’d already won ev
ery fight against me in his mind.

  His voice was a whisper. “You can try as hard as you want, but you’ll never be as singularly focused, ruthless, or daring as any of your counterparts. I see you for what you are. You’re a bookworm who bit off more than she could chew. It’s not too late for you, Driftwood.”

  He’d won every physical fight. He was toying with me. Two could play that game.

  “You’ve got me wrong,” I said quietly. I looked him in the eye and he let my wrist go as I pulled it away. “I’m not afraid. I made peace with my death when I started burning.” I raised both my hands and very deliberately moved my hair, baring my neck. He was standing so close. “Save yourself the trouble. I dare you.”

  His lips parted, barely. I swallowed, hoping he couldn’t see that I was shaking. I wondered if it would be as carefully executed as the caress of his hand when he cuffed me.

  The way he was looking at me, I wondered if my night was about to go in an entirely different direction.

  He cleared his throat. He laughed. “I’m not that easy.”

  I breathed again.

  “Prove I’m wrong about you, then.”

  The cuff came off my wrist and he moved away.

  I stood there, fireball ready, staring at him as he set his gun on the counter and walked away from it. He sat down in a chair, hands behind his head, watching me in anticipation.

  He was playing it cool, but I could still see his chest heaving.

  I wanted to throw the fireball at him. I wanted to see the look of shock on his face before it burned his eyes out. I wanted to wipe the subtle smile from his lips and walk out of there like I didn’t care.

  But doing all of that would make me the person that the Bleak said I was. They were wrong about everything.

  And even as I tried to push the thought away, I wanted him to touch me again.

  Nick raised his eyebrows and picked up his cell phone. “I’ll order you a pizza.”

  I turned my back on him and leaned against the bar that separated the kitchen from the living space. Marge was right; if I was already falling to Stockholm Syndrome, a few more one-night stands might not have hurt. I must have been desperate.

  I had to focus on the plan.

  My palms started to tingle again as he ordered.

  I eyed the elevator. Then I turned around and looked at the windows in the living room. There had to be a fire escape somewhere.

  “Your condition is serious,” he said. “You’ve only got a few years left if you keep going the way you’re going.”

  My eyes flashed to Nick as he set his phone back on the end table. His eyes were returning to a human expression again. I didn’t see any point in hiding the truth from him. Maybe it would buy me sympathy points.

  “Two years,” I said. “Optimistically, five.”

  Nick nodded. “Without treatment.”

  Again, he was hanging out a carrot for me. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Nick said, raising his chin. “Be nice to me and maybe I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  My gaze moved to the windows again. His went straight to the gun.

  Patience.

  “Don’t be lewd.”

  “Lewd?” He looked insulted. “I was offering to help you.”

  “Nobody gives away something for nothing,” I said. “And that means you want something from me. You can’t have it.”

  He didn’t blink as I tried to stare him down. He only glanced at my neck for a minute before swallowing and returning to our staring contest. His eyes narrowed.

  I was still feeling his hand on me, the strength of him, and the expert speed. The look in his eyes when he chose to let me go.

  Alex Mordley knew I was attracted to power. He also knew, now, that I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of my mission.

  This wasn’t going to be any different.

  Fiery sparks ignited on my fingers and we both jumped. Cursing, I trudged back to the bath tub.

  Nick had brought them up, and now my former crew was on my mind. Alex, staring at me from under his dark hair with challenge in his eyes. Daria and her lopsided smile. Marcus and Timothy.

  When I closed my eyes, I could still see the looks on their faces, illuminated by the glow of the gem as I absorbed all the power it shed.

  Confusion. Despair. Rage.

  I used them to get close enough to the magic to steal it, because no one could get close enough on their own. I betrayed them. I told myself they were only criminals.

  If any one of them ever found me, I would be dead before I knew. Even Alex. Especially Alex.

  I still felt guilty for doing it to them.

  I plunged my fists back into the tub of water and made it dance to the song in my head.

  When Nick let his guard down, I would be ready to make my move.

  “I’m going out for a moment.”

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  Nick tucked the gun into his shoulder holster and straightened his jacket. “Don’t try to leave unless you want to go out like a mosquito on a bug zapper. The place is warded.”

  I didn’t answer. I waited to be sure he was really gone before testing the wards.

  Elegant spell work. Annoyingly well done.

  I sank my whole body into the bath and let the magic out of every tense muscle and pore. When I finally found my way to my room, I was surprised by the raucous noise that met me.

  Nick had placed a large traveling trunk of cursed objects in the middle of the floor. At first, I thought he was mocking me by putting a noise in the room that only I could hear.

  Then I found the note.

  This stuff piles up in my line of work. Fix it.

  I looked back at the trunk and frowned. This was going to take some serious time and effort to fix.

  A lot of magic.

  I fumbled through my bag to find my painkillers. I stretched my fingers and stared at the enormous trunk, thinking that it might take me an hour to finish. Maybe two, if I meticulously dragged it out, and then I could save some for tomorrow morning.

  Ha—tomorrow morning... I glanced at a clock. Tomorrow morning was officially fifteen minutes away.

  He had put them in my room to help me with my mana problem. His desperation to help me was kind of sweet.

  Too bad for him. Now I saw the chink in his armor.

  Chapter 9

  I HARDLY SLEPT THAT night. The various scenarios running through my brain were going to assure I was tired all day, but having a plan would keep me alive.

  When Nick came through the door, I was still in my pajamas and sitting at the breakfast bar. I flicked a glance at the grocery bags in his hand before looking away to avoid eye contact.

  He set the bags in front of me on the counter. Perfect.

  “Did you catch the guy?” I asked with calculated hesitation. He didn’t catch the guy. He wouldn’t bother with shopping if he had a huge payday to collect.

  “No. I’m going to need you to bring me that knife.” He pushed the bags toward me. “There’s food in there. Eat something. I’ll take you to work.”

  I nodded, pulling things out of the bags.

  Toaster pastries. Did he think I was ten?

  Bread. Sandwich meat. Better.

  Canned soup. Microwave dinner. Bingo.

  He was planning for me to be here for dinner. The toaster pastries might last two or three days, but I couldn’t assume he was planning on it.

  I needed to change my situation before tonight. Whether that meant escaping or convincing him not to kill me, I wasn’t sure. We’d had a moment the night before, but the moment had passed. I knew better than anyone how far ingrained duty was in the mind of the Bleak’s agents.

  He slapped a pen and paper in front of me. I looked up and locked eyes with him, trying to seem appropriately concerned that my last meal was thawing in front of me.

  “I looked up your father’s case last night,” he said. “I see what you mean with the inconsistencies. Write a grocery list. I’m m
aking some calls on your behalf.”

  My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Just like that?

  No—he might be lying. Trying to throw me off so I didn’t try to escape. If he really believed me, I would be free to buy my own groceries. I started to write out the list like the good girl he thought I was.

  “Did the stuff I left for you help at all?”

  My thoughts ground to a halt. I’d hoped he wouldn’t bring it up, but now it was out there. A total stranger expected me to discuss my very serious and until now very private medical condition.

  And he expected gratitude for his asking.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to repress my urge to tell him it was none of his business or concern. I had all the power of an ancient energy store that the Bleak only entrusted to the finest spell weavers, and he thought a trunk of junk was going to fix it. Better to put a bandage on a corpse. “It helped some. Thanks.”

  Nick gave me a quick nod. “Good. Glad to hear it. I’ll drop you off when you’re ready.”

  “YOU LOOK EXHAUSTED. What happened last night?” Marge pulled her eye drops from her desk drawer for a fresh application. We’d already been at work for an hour, but she was just now noticing that I hadn’t slept.

  I was just now noticing that she was hung over, so we both had our excuses. “Eh, you know. I went out. Met a guy. Ended up at his place. Same old, same old.”

  Marge stopped mid drop. Her half-asleep gaze flicked to me. “Seriously?”

  “No,” I grunted. Yes. But it wasn’t nearly as great as it sounds. “I stayed up too late watching infomercials.”

  She grunted. We went back to work.

  My mission that day was to get copies of the case report for Nick, but I already knew the best details wouldn’t come for at least another day, and possibly as long as a week. Blood work and DNA took time, even on a rush order.

  Once Marge got busy enough to ignore me, I was going straight for that case. For now, I sat at my desk reading old case files and pretending to be productive until motivation finally set in.

  Gods, there are a lot of dumb criminals in this world. And now, as someone who had stolen the magic who would kill her, and had been caught in the stupidest way possible, I was one of them. I only hoped I would get a Darwin Award when I finally burned out.