There's No Business Like Mage Business

by Nikki Haverstock

  Then the answer seemed obvious. I could ask Thomas. He had been quite bold and eager to help. I would need to come up with a good lie, and I had time for that. After the show, I would call him, maybe even request that he bring me food while I asked my favor. My stomach flipped at the thought of seeing him again. I was sure he would agree to meet me.

  Thomas’s husky voice near my ear broke my deep thought. “Hello, beautiful.”

  I spun around. Thomas was there in all his handsome glory. He was carrying a bag, from which the scent of fried potatoes and charred meat came, in defiance of the “No food or drink” signs posted every five feet backstage.

  “What are you doing here?” Even in my shock, I took a step toward him. Or maybe it was the food he was holding. Possibly, it was the irresistible combination of a sexy man that wanted to feed me.

  He looked around, dumping the food onto a small table. Then he peeked around the curtain. There were several sets of curtains between us and the audience, and he dragged me back into a nook in the wall nestled between two sets of curtains. We were pressed together, my hands resting on his chest.

  I struggled to focus as the heat of his chest practically burned my palms. He was so close and smelled excellent. It wasn’t anything I could name, but I wanted to roll around in the smell and fall asleep to it. I was barely able to keep my hands still as I wanted to run them over his chest and see if he was as muscular as I thought he might be.

  “I hired Emily like you recommended. She is talkative and pushy, and it is a bit upsetting to find her always underfoot, providing me with information and things that I won’t actually need for another ten minutes. An hour ago, she marched into my office, without knocking, mind you, and said that you had something to ask me and were hungry.”

  I cleared my throat, but my voice was still husky when I spoke. “I had only just decided to call you a few seconds ago.”

  “Unsettling, isn’t it?” He chuckled, the tip of my fingers feeling it more than I actually heard it. “I would love to stay, but I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

  “You know the two performers that left? I need to get into their rooms. Janie Wright and Stacey Droit.”

  For a few seconds, I thought he would call me crazy or demand to know what I was up to. He tensed under my hand, and I held my breath.

  He searched my face in the darkness, no hint of expression on his face and his emotions tightly shielded. After the intensity of the last few moments, it was like having a door slammed in my face. Finally, he broke the silence. “Why?”

  I opened my mouth to lie then closed it. I could say that a prop was missing or they had stolen from Natasha. But the moment felt like a test, and I desperately wanted to pass. He needed the truth, and though I couldn’t give him all of it, I wouldn’t lie. I would tell him whatever truth I could. “I can’t tell you right now.”

  He nodded, gently placed his hand on my waist, and pulled me a little closer. I jumped a little but yielded easily to the pressure. I wondered if mages could spontaneously burst into flames. Heat pooled in all my tender places, and sweat trickled down my back, but I didn’t want to pull away.

  He stroked a sliver of skin above my waistband. “Okay. I will do it, but please, whatever you are up to, be careful, and if you are in danger, will you tell me?”

  I nodded in the dark. I trusted him.

  A lopsided smile crawled across his face. “But you have to go on a date with me.”

  A flutter rose in my stomach then quickly died. I was a Monza. No matter how attracted I was or how much I loved playing these games, I had to be honest that nothing would come of it. “You know I can’t date.”

  His hands moved around from the top of each hip to the small of my back. He gently pulled me until we touched from our chest to our thighs. “Says who?”

  I struggled to maintain my thoughts. “I have to be celibate?” I meant it as a statement, but instead, it came out like a question.

  He dipped his head to nuzzle my neck. His hair smelled faintly of manly things like pine and cloves. “Fine, if you insist, but what does that mean, really? Can you hug?”

  “Of course.”

  He slid his leg between my thighs. The contact made my body ache to get closer to him. My hands tensed, balling up the fabric of his shirt. My nails scratched hard, and he sucked in his breath, hissing in my ear.

  One hand slid up between my shoulder blades, and the other slid down over the swell of my buttocks. “Friends often kiss on the cheeks. That shouldn’t be an issue.”

  I moaned in agreement as he kissed me on the cheek, then he kissed the edge of my jaw and gave a little nip with his teeth.

  My hands moved up to snake around his neck. As he kissed and nipped his way down my neck, I stood on my toes to move closer to him. Fireworks went off, crowds cheered, and the whole world seemed to stop. It was just the two of us. Nothing and no one else existed.

  I ran a hand up the back of his head, burying it in his smooth, silky hair. He growled, a deep, feral sound that sent vibrations down my body, into my deepest places.

  Patagonia stretched up on my thigh, digging her claws into my leg, but I only noticed it with a small part of my brain. The pain was distant and separate from me. All of me was focused on Thomas.

  He pulled back his head to stare into my eyes. His violet eyes glowed in the darkness, and he stroked a hand across my brow to pull some hair out of my eyes. Everything was silent as he dipped his head to kiss me.

  I stood on my toes, a hair’s breadth from kissing Thomas, when an angry stagehand’s voice ruined the moment.

  “Where is Ella? She’s missing her cue!”

  I jerked back as my eyes flew up. I had been lost in space and time. I barely fumbled out a bye to Thomas before emerging from the curtains and frightening the stagehand, who fell backward.

  “So sorry!” I hollered over my shoulder as I rushed. The sketch hadn’t started, but I was definitely late as Natasha and Vanessa were both staring into the darkness of the wings when I emerged. I raced on stage, tripping several times on the way to my spot. The audience laughed, believing my clumsiness and late entrance to be part of the act. I was playing the part of the bumbling assistant perfectly, being either a second too early or too late. I knocked several props off the table when I moved too quickly and had to scramble to pick them up before they were needed. My knees were wobbly, my hands shook, and halfway through the act, I noticed that my shirt was half tucked in while the other half hung out, and I had a very noticeable line of greyish-white dust across my black pants.

  When I went to honk the rubber duck, a long, obnoxious noise that was the auditory punch line to the climax of the act, nothing happened.

  I squeezed again, but there was only a barely audible whoosh of air that blew across my wrist. The back of the duck had been slashed open, and it would honk no more. I lifted it up one more time and squeezed it, using my own voice to provide the noise.

  “Honk!” I shouted.

  Vanessa and I were not miked since we had no speaking roles, so I had to project my voice. In my enthusiasm, my voice cracked. The audience lost it. The sketch was already hilarious, but my bumbling act, or what they thought was an act, put it over the edge. Each time I was supposed to honk the duck, I shouted out the honk, sending the audience into uproarious laughter, into what was one continuous laugh track that didn’t break until the end of the act.

  As we left the stage, the audience broke into cheering and laughter. Once on the wing, I apologized to Natasha.

  She turned to me. “I am equally mad at you and delighted that you are finally getting the hang of improvising.”

  “I didn’t improvise anything on purpose. I missed my cue, and I am so sorry. Then I was so upset that I just was a mess.”

  She narrowed her eyes, not in anger but in suspicion. She wanted to believe me but wasn’t convinced. “And the duck?”

  “It was broken or something. That, I did improvise.”

  “Broken?”

>   “The back was split open. It wouldn’t honk.”

  “Hm, weird. I’ll check that out and have them order a new one. In that case, quick thinking.”

  She turned and walked back on stage. It had been cleared, and it was time for the last part of the show, her stand-up act.

  I walked over, snatched the bag of food that Thomas had brought me, and rushed back to the dressing room before someone spied me with the forbidden food.

  I opened the bag and found that Thomas had scrawled a note on the napkin. I pulled out one of the flaky-crusted fruit pies and bit into it—peach—while reading the note he had scrawled on a napkin.

  Ella, I have to deal with work. I’ll get what you asked for, and we will finish what we started. If you need me, just call. Thomas

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Natasha pouted a little that she wasn’t on the guest list again but had perked up once Vanessa grabbed a table in the crowded Snakebite Room.

  I gave them both a big smile. “I’ll grab us a few drinks. My treat.”

  They agreed then turned back to watch the dance floor, probably looking for cute guys. I weaved through the throngs of people. Whether it was luck or Providence, the crowds were thin by the bar, just a few knots of patrons deep in conversations of their own.

  I smiled when the man behind the bar recognized me from the night before. “Hey, Monza.”

  “Please, call me Ella. And you are?” I offered my hand over the bar.

  “Bert. What can I get you? And how is Britney? I heard that she passed out because her appendix burst.”

  Interesting. Someone was still working to cover up the overdoses. I looked over at a chalkboard with a long list of house specials that I had never heard of. “How about three Rambler Stallions. Britney’s in rough shape, but they think she will pull through.”

  Bert started grabbing bottles to mix our drinks while I contemplated how to proceed.

  “I’ve had a super-hard day, and I was thinking of just having a nice relaxing evening at my place, and I was thinking maybe you had some recommendations on how to unwind.” I had wanted to allude to Legacy, but after the words were out of my mouth, I wondered if I had accidentally hit on him instead.

  He checked around him with a quick flick of his eyes. “Sounds like. Are you thinking of a bottle of wine or something… different?” He loaded the word different with just enough emphasis that I picked up on it without him showing his whole hand.

  “I drink wine all the time.” I leaned in a little conspiratorially. “I was thinking of something new to me. Something really different.”

  He smiled but then hesitated. An odd expression crossed over his face, as if he’d bitten into an olive and hit an unexpected pit. Uncertainty wafted off him.

  “Ella, can I recommend the spa? They have a lovely meditation and yoga class as well.”

  My dang reputation as a Monza was probably confusing the issue. People had really clear ideas of what they expected from me. If I had been a young, rich party animal like all the rest of the victims, he would probably already have Legacy in my hand.

  Switching tacks seemed like the best idea. Beth had only just gone into treatment, so hopefully, no one would know yet. “I’m friends with Beth Morris. She’s having a difficult time with the anniversary of Michael and Tony’s deaths. I said I would pick up something to get her through a rough spot.”

  He blew out a breath. “That makes more sense. I know what you want.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a thin leather wallet, took out a small ziplock bag, and pushed it over to me on the counter.

  I cupped a hand over it, not wanting to touch even the bag until I could slip it straight into the vial. I needed to fish the vial out of my pocket and slide it in, but I would wait until he turned away. The bag was about the size of my thumb, and inside was a thin, flat white tablet.

  I leaned in closer because on the side in black was a design. It was a feather, stylized with only a few lines but still clearly recognizable and familiar. I was sure I had seen it before, maybe as a logo for a local company. That would be an easy way to trace who was manufacturing it. I covered it with my hand again.

  I pulled out several hundred-dollar bills. “What do I owe you?”

  He shook his head. “No, nothing for that.”

  “Surely your boss will want his cut.”

  “It’ll be fine. Business has been really slow this week, and this batch will expire tonight. I thought I would sell out with the festival, but yours is the first in a week. I guess all the cool kids have found something new.”

  I went a little cold then hot as adrenaline rushed into my system. It felt like an important clue, though I wasn’t sure what it meant yet. “Maybe they are getting it from another dealer. Someone with a fancier, newer version of Legacy.”

  He shushed me a little and leaned over the bar. “No. It all comes from one source, and I’m the only one that sells it at this casino.”

  “Are you sure? I thought I heard of a few people partying on it this week. I guess they could get it at another casino or someplace in Rambler.”

  “Could be. There are one or two other people that sell in Rambler, but they have really tightened up on things since… Michael.” He grimaced, and for a moment, I thought he was going to cry.

  “You were close?”

  “I was a part of that group. Michael, Beth, Tony, Little Petey, Nickel, Mandy, and I. We practically lived at the club, partying every night of the week when we could. We all worked at the Golden Pyramid. Losing Michael and Tony at the same time was a real shock. Beth took it hardest, of course. Little Petey and Mandy got married and moved back to New Jersey. Things weren’t the same.”

  What kind of name was Nickel? But I tried to memorize the names he had mentioned in case they were all tied together.

  He pushed the two drinks across the bar and was finishing the third. “Here. I need to get you out of here before my boss gets suspicious.”

  “Did you know Janie and Stacey?”

  He scrunched up his face. “No, don’t think so.”

  “Janie Wright and Stacey Droit? They were in the comedy show with Natasha.”

  He continued to shake his head. “I think I know who you mean, but I never met them.” He noticed something from the corner of his eye. He pushed the last drink across the bar and loudly spoke. “And here are your drinks. Your bill has been taken care of.” He turned on his heel and ducked through a door into the back kitchen of the bar with an angry-looking employee hot on his heels, probably the boss he had been scared of.

  I lifted my hand and examined the packet of Legacy. The feather looked so familiar, but the harder I concentrated, the more the memory slipped through my grasp. I was sure I had seen it in Rambler, but that hardly narrowed it down. I closed my eyes and relaxed, hoping the information would leap to mind.

  “What’s taking so long, Ella?”

  I spun around to face Vanessa while, in the same motion, scooping the baggie with Legacy off the bar and attempting to stuff it into the vial before Vanessa saw it. But it was too late.

  “What’s that? An aspirin?”

  “No, it’s Legacy,” said the deep voice from behind my shoulder.

  I let out a groan from the base of my stomach. Of all the people to be there in that moment, Vin was at the bottom of my list. I didn’t even have the energy to mourn over what could have been, as I had for the past six months. I was tired, hungry, cranky, and I had finally started to make some progress on the investigation when he suddenly butted in. I was furious.

  I shoved it into the vial and stuffed that into my pocket. “Don’t worry about it.” I turned to grab the drinks, but Vin grabbed hold of my shoulder.

  Vanessa gasped in shock. “Legacy! What are you doing with that?”

  Vin’s grip wasn’t painful, but I couldn’t turn away. It closed on me like a steel trap. I sensed magic around me, and I would have recognized it as Vin’s even if I had never sensed it before. It was cold and hard, like w
et granite after a spring rain. His eyes caught mine, and I couldn’t turn away.

  “Ella, why do you have Legacy?”

  Even before I could come up with a lie, my mouth was moving. Vin’s magic was compelling an answer, the truth. I narrowed my eyes at him even as the words tumbled out of my mouth. “I am investigating a series of Legacy overdoses that we believe are murders. I’m trying to find out how Legacy works.”

  Vin was so startled by my answer that he stepped back, breaking both eye and physical contact. The magic stopped, and I threw up my shields, though it was too late. This was probably why he was so good at his job. It stung that he had never shared this ability of his with me and that he chose to use it on me as if I were some hustler busted for cheating at the poker table.

  Patagonia was at my feet, hissing at him. She reached out to claw at his calf, but he didn’t even flinch.

  But it was not him that I needed to worry about. Vanessa had recoiled at my answer as if slapped. “You are investigating and didn’t tell me? That’s why you took the job.” Her face shifted between anger and sadness as all the pieces fell into place. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time, haven’t you?”

  My stomach rolled at the pain in her voice, and I wanted to say something to fix it all, but nothing came to mind.

  She choked back a sob. “I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

  Natasha approached us cautiously. “What’s going on?”

  “Ella bought Legacy because—”

  “You can’t tell anyone!”

  Tears sprang into her eyes. “And you care more about your stupid investigation than our friendship?”

  My mind was reeling, but I knew one thing for sure. I felt terrible for her and her pain, but my mind was laser focused on one thing. None of our feelings mattered in comparison to the value of a life. “Mages are dying, Vanessa.” Heads were turning our way, so I lowered my voice. “Britney almost died.”