Mick seemed to understand the content of the conversation, although Cassie was certain he couldn’t hear it as she could. Expression tight, he stared at the imbroglio taking place just inside the entrance doors.
Sympathy swamped Cassie. Endora was often a trial—the little stunt she’d just pulled was evidence of that—but she did such things to keep Cassie from getting bored. Both of them knew no one would ever suspect Endora had really brewed batwing tea, so the joke was to call it what it was and let the humans laugh about the clever “Kitchen Witch” tie-in.
“About Endora,” she prompted gently.
“Huh?” Mick turned toward her. “What did you say?”
“Endora? You were asking about her.”
“Oh, yeah.” He suddenly blushed. “Never mind.”
Intrigued by this handsome, brilliant, popular man’s sudden discomfort, Cassie found herself doing something she rarely did—pursuing a conversation with a human being. “No way, Mr. M.S. Kazimer. Mick. You’re not ducking out now. Ask your question.”
He visibly swallowed. “You’re going to think this is a really stupid observation on my part.”
“Try me.”
He paused for so long, she thought they’d be overrun with autograph seekers before he continued. After clearing his throat twice, however, he seemed ready.
“Your publicist seems a bit . . .”
“Flaky? Ditzy? Eccentric?”
Mick shook his head, red creeping into his cheeks. “Actually, I was thinking more delusional.”
Cassie managed to lock her jaw before her mouth dropped open, but she recovered instantly from such an unexpected comment. “Oh that. Well. The wonderful thing about Endora is she doesn’t suffer from delusions.” Cassie took a sip of tea and winked at M.S. Kazimer. “She enjoys them immensely.”
Mick looked nonplused for a split second, then burst out laughing. “Touche.”
The fact that she had managed to make him momentarily forget his publicist’s embarrassing antics warmed Cassie straight through. Not bad for a non-magic accomplishment, she thought.
Although she had to admit that M. S. “Mick” Kazimer had managed to enchant her without using any magic, either.
It was going to be a very interesting tour.
Three
“MY DAUGHTERS ARE Betty, Alice and Florence,” said a bright-eyed octogenarian as she stood in front of Cassie’s table and patiently waited for her to sign the requested books. “Barb and Dorothy are my daughters-in-law.” She paused as Cassie jotted down the names, then continued, “Granddaughters Diane, Kathy, and Ellen. Great-granddaughter Cindy . . . And when my five-year-old great-great-granddaughter turns twenty-five, I’m going to buy her a copy of this book.”
Cassie glanced up into the woman’s sparkling eyes and said straight-faced, “Let’s hope it’s still in print in twenty years.”
“Oh, it will be, dear.” The woman patted Cassie’s hand. “It will. Good advice is always stylish, useful and necessary.”
As she walked away, Cassie sighed. “I hope I’ve got that kind of energy when I’m her age.”
“Relatively speaking,” Endora said wryly.
“Relatively speaking.” She winked at her familiar, who’d just restocked her pile of Dust Bunnies, then turned to the next person in line. “Whose name should I sign this to,” she asked.
Totally absorbed with the many eager fans who had stood in line over an hour to get her autographed book, Cassie almost missed Endora’s sudden tension. The hair on the familiar’s arms abruptly stood on end, and she went completely still.
Something up?
Not sure, but I’d better check it out. Be back in a bit.
Endora rose and left, moving through the crowd with the lithe grace so typical of her species. When she returned forty-five minutes later, it was nearly time for the signing to be over. Silent, she took a seat.
The line had thinned to a handful, and Cassie caught the tautness still emanating from her friend. She shot Endora a startled glance, and immediately heard “Later” inside her head.
“WHAT WAS THAT all about,” Cassie whispered as they moved down the corridor toward the booksellers reception in the convention center’s adjacent hotel.
Endora glanced quickly around. No one was within earshot. “Didn’t you sense it?”
“Apparently not,” Cassie returned tartly. “I was reading my fans’ auras. What did I miss?” Endora shivered, and Cassie stopped, grasping her friend’s elbow and turning to face her. A sheen of perspiration clung to her familiar’s upper lip, and her eyes were a bit wild. “You’re never like this, Dora. You’re scaring me here.”
Endora actually blinked before she turned to look at Cassie. “Pure evil. I sensed pure evil.”
Cassie’s grip tightened. “In the exhibition hall during the signing?”
Endora nodded.
“Human or nonhuman?”
“Human.” Endora’s green eyes were huge. “I’ve never perceived a darker soul in all my years on Earth.”
“Great Mother Goddess!” Cassie swore. As flighty as Endora occasionally was, she never erred in her assessment of the karmic plane. A familiar’s responsibility was to protect her witch from harm on any level, and Endora performed her duty flawlessly. “You couldn’t determine who?”
“I didn’t get a look at him.” Endora ran both hands through her hair in a gesture of pure frustration. “By the time I worked my way through the crowd, he was gone.”
“Male?”
“Aren’t they all?” Endora snorted. “And here I was hoping it was Jennifer Bodin. No such luck.”
The attempt at levity eased Cassie’s anxiety somewhat, and she resumed walking toward the banquet room. “Most of my fans today were women. Was he waiting in my line?”
“No. All the men who bought your book got it for a significant other.” Endora looked abruptly morose, but Cassie could sense she was putting on a front to lighten the mood. “That really cute blonde guy? Gay. The book was a gift for his partner, Bruce.”
“I just assumed his name was Bruce.”
Endora shook her head. “You are sooo naive.”
“Back to this evil man,” Cassie prompted, refocusing on their potential problem.
She slowed as they approached the head table. Their seats were next to Mick and his manager-girlfriend, and Cassie wanted all her questions answered before they sat down. Carrying on an in-depth telepathic discussion was difficult in a crowded room. And she didn’t want anyone wondering why she and Endora had furrowed brows over the chicken a-la-king.
“I sensed him near Mick’s line, but not to have a book signed. Otherwise, I’d have found the ghoul.” Endora shivered again. “If he’s a fan of any of the authors here, he’s definitely an obsessed one. Psychopathically obsessed, completely depraved. Someone who should be incarcerated.”
“I don’t sense him anywhere close by now.” Cassie’s gaze swept the room to reinforce her sixth sense.
“Neither do I.”
Cassie gently squeezed her familiar’s shoulder. “We don’t know his intentions, and have no idea where he is, so we can’t deal with him right now. Nor can we warn anyone just because spectral evidence points to evil. But we can’t take this lightly. Let’s stay alert to the possibility a wacko’s hanging around the convention.”
“I’m already on it,” Endora muttered under her breath as they took their seats. “Trust me, Boss.”
“I do. With my life.”
THE MOMENT CASSIE Hathorne and Endora Bast sat down at the head table, Mick felt his throat get scratchy.
That’s the damnedest thing, he thought. Happens every time those two show up. Actually, he had to admit he’d sat at the signing all afternoon and not had any problems as long as Cassie was alone. It’s like I’m allergic
to Endora Bast. Ridiculous!
He cleared his throat, but his voice cracked when he started to greet the pair. He cleared his throat again. “Sorry,” he said, still rasping. “It feels like I’m having some sort of anaphylactic reaction.”
“Nonsense, darling,” Jennifer cooed. She hooked her right arm through his left and quickly touched her head to his shoulder. “You’re only allergic to cats.”
Cassie, who had just taken a large sip of water, nearly spit the liquid onto the pristine table linen. It would be rude to laugh, so she concentrated on the fact that watching Jennifer paw Mick was discomfiting. She dared not meet Endora’s eyes, but she could hear her friend’s laughter in her head.
How ironic, the familiar telepathically commented. Aloud, Endora asked, “And do you have any allergies, Miss Bodin?”
“Strawberries,” Jennifer replied on a much-too-bright smile. Endora, I’m warning you. Don’t go there!
Why not? She’s a pompous ass.
She’s Mick’s fiancée, not to mention his manager.
Don’t know about you, Cass, but I’m not reading any “lovey-dovey” auras coming from our handsome writer stud toward the obnoxious Miss J. B.
Cassie refused to admit she’d reached the same conclusion. In her quick reading of the room, she’d been surprised to see a trace of darkness in both Mick’s and Jennifer’s auras. His was darker, but each should have been much lighter to indicate a more relaxed state of mind. Obviously, he was annoyed with his publicist, yet Cassie didn’t sense the type of loving tolerance in Mick one would expect he’d show his fiancée.
And something even more odd. She’d caught his gaze just as she’d sat down and could have sworn his eyes had actually lit with delight when he’d seen her. Then, of course, his allergy had kicked in, and the glint had disappeared. Probably pure fantasy on her part. She pushed the thought away.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dora.
Goddess, you’re such a liar!
If her current physical familiarity with M. S. Kazimer is any indication, their relationship is just wonderful.
All the more reason to hex her, if you ask me. Eliminate the competition.
Unwilling to interpret that last remark, Cassie turned to Mick. “If you squeeze that lemon slice into your water, drinking it should take care of the tickle in your throat.”
“Can’t hurt to try.” Mick promptly did as instructed and downed the entire contents. He smiled, a bit bemused. “You’re right! The tickle’s gone.”
Only because you cast a protection spell on him.
Give the guy a break, Dora. This bus tour will be miserable for all of us if he breaks out in hives every time you’re both in the same room.
Oh, I don’t know . . . He could keep coming to you for remedies.
Jennifer’s jumping into the conversation spared Endora from a scathing telepathic set down. She got a narrow-eyed stare from Cassie instead.
“You must save an incredible amount of money on doctor’s expenses,” Jennifer said to Cassie. Her tone wasn’t the least bit complimentary. “Did you learn that in the Tennessee hills?”
Cassie sensed Endora’s ire rising. Down, girl. I can take care of this. “Actually, it came out of the AMA’s journal a few years back. An amazingly in-depth article about folk medicine. Maybe you read it?”
Bull’s eye, Endora crowed.
“I’m sure I was far too busy organizing Mick’s career to take any note of it.” Jennifer gave his arm another proprietary squeeze. “He’s an industry unto himself, what with screen rights and signings and all.”
“Jen—”
She turned innocent eyes to him, then smiled maliciously at Cassie. “After all, every book he’s written has been a best-seller.”
“If I recall correctly,” Mick said, tone still full of warning, “Miss Hathorne’s books have all been best-sellers, too.”
“Oh? How many books would that be?”
Cassie met Jennifer’s hostile eyes with a self-deprecating smile. “Only three. Compilations of my syndicated articles. Since six hundred newspapers worldwide carry me, it’s hard to collect material most people haven’t already seen.” She shrugged as if apologizing for that “failing.”
Boss, you don’t need me to stick up for you, Endora groused. But I’d like to hang around and watch Mick put Jennifer’s pieces in a doggy bag.
I don’t think she even knows she lost this skirmish.
No, but Mick does. And from where I’m sitting, that’s all that matters.
Sending Jennifer a quelling look, he raised his wine glass in salute to the authors at the table. “Here’s to continued success for each of us.”
As they toasted, Jennifer with obvious reluctance, Endora’s plaintive cry filled Cassie’s head. Can I pleeeease put a hex on her, Boss? Please?
Cassie bit back a chuckle. No! Although I have to admit, I wouldn’t be disappointed if every banquet on this tour served a dessert made with lots of strawberries.
Endora’s smile was purely feline. I think I can do something about that.
BACK IN THE penthouse suite, Mick yanked his tie free, balled it up in one large fist, and hurled it into the dresser drawer.
“Jen, what the hell is your problem?”
She turned from where she stood perusing the contents of the fully stocked refrigerator. “What?”
“Don’t play coy. That infuriates me.” His glare halted the protest he knew was forthcoming. “You were deliberately rude to Cassandra Hathorne. In front of half the authors on this tour. For God’s sake, this isn’t a pissing match.”
“I was just paying her a compliment—”
“Backhanded at best.” He poured himself a shot of straight scotch and downed it neat. “And what orifice did you pull that comment about Tennessee out of? You know she’s from the East Coast.”
“I thought I was being humorous.”
“Well, your sense of humor and mine must be miles apart,” he said evenly, “because I found your comment to be downright embarrassing.”
Jennifer’s blue eyes welled with tears. “Why are you being so mean to me?”
“Mean? You’ve had a burr up your rear end since you heard Cassandra Hathorne was going to be on this tour. Care to explain what that’s all about?” He poured himself another drink and sat down in the chair closest to the window.
“Why should I have to justify doing my job?” Jennifer shot back. “She’s competition.”
His reaction more resembled a short bark than a laugh. “We’ve discussed this. She is not my competition.” Then, with startling insight, he thought, She’s yours. Jennifer saw Cassandra Hathorne as competition for Mick’s affections. Shit.
He almost laughed aloud at the irony. His former fiancée viewed another woman as a rival for a position she’d voluntarily given up. Only the possibly cataclysmic importance of this tour kept him from laughing himself sick. He started to down the drink in his hand, but stopped. Alcohol had never been a salve for his problems before, and he wouldn’t let it be now. He set the glass aside. “I think you’re upset I’m quitting, and your misplaced aggression is being channeled her way. That’s not fair to her, as she’s got nothing to do with it.”
Jennifer sat down in his lap and put her arms around his neck. He didn’t respond. “Why didn’t we discuss this career move?”
“I’ve tried to for a long time, but all you’ve been interested in was patching up our disagreements with sex.” He saw her bottom lip begin to quiver, knew it was just an act.
“Something we haven’t done in far too long.” She rubbed her breasts against his chest.
“You called our relationship off. Remember?”
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” She snuggled closer. “How about for old time’s sake?”
“M
y heart isn’t into it, Jen.”
On a breathy growl, she said, “That particular organ doesn’t necessarily have to be into it to do it, you know.”
He gently pushed her away and stood up. “It does for me. I’m going to bed. Alone.” He paused at the door of the suite’s master bedroom. “Don’t embarrass me like that again, Jennifer, or I’ll fire you. I’m done with writing. Your constantly reminding me and the rest of the world that I’m a best-selling author isn’t going to change that fact.”
IT HAD BEGUN.
The television provided the hotel room’s only light. On the screen, a grisly crime scene was the backdrop to the news anchor’s account of brutal murder. The victim—a businessman in town for the booksellers’ convention. Shocked witnesses, who in reality had seen nothing, appeared on camera, horrified looks on their stupid faces.
Idiots. Every last one of the drones of the world—the police, the news reporters, the riffraff at the scene. All were imbeciles. Only one person was worthy, and he likely didn’t even know his worthiness yet. But he would. All in good time.
Today had gone well. He would glory in his triumph for a day then set the stage for the third stop on the bus tour. In less than two weeks this would all be over, and his legend made for all eternity.
Something even writing best-selling horror novels could not ensure.
THE FOUR-HOUR bus ride from Toledo to Chicago had proven to be completely uneventful, Cassie thought. Likely because she had managed to totally avoid conversation with Jennifer Bodin. That suited her just fine, as she found the pushy blonde to be distinctly unpleasant. Whatever Mick saw in her was not something Cassie could see. On any astral plane. And she had again sensed extreme tension between the two. Trouble definitely plagued that relationship.
Now she sensed even more trouble brewing. They’d arrived just half an hour earlier at McCormick Place, the Windy City’s showcase convention center, and all the managers and publicists had been huddled in the corner with McCormick personnel since they’d stepped down from the bus. As usual, Jennifer was right in the thick of things. This did not bode well.
Endora confirmed that thought almost before Cassie had it. The familiar strolled up to where the authors sat at a table, drinking complimentary coffee, tea and juice, and headed straight for her witch.
Some Practical Magic Page 4