Shifty Magic (8 page)

Ms. Fairview escaped back
to the outer sanctum and the door swung silently closed.
Lord
Bellmonte steepled
his hands and pressed his index fingers against his lips as he
contemplated me.

"I don't...respond well...to threats." I
clamped my teeth together to keep from coughing.

"I was impressing on you the need for
discretion."

The hell he was. "For the record....I
wouldn't have died alone."

His jaw tensed and my instincts tingled.
"Are you threatening me now?" he said, amazement rippling beneath
his flat tone.

I swallowed and gently massaged the muscles
around my abused windpipe. "Fact, not threat." Three darts, three
doses, dead vampire.

He watched me, curiosity and speculation
seeping back into his sharp gaze. "You are a wildcard, Ms. Kittner.
The Church does not encourage the continued existence of
wildcards."

No kidding.

"Your history includes abandonment on the
steps of a cathedral as an infant, no known parents or family, and
several arrests as an adolescent, though you were never convicted.
You associate with questionable criminal elements and regularly
engage in dangerously impulsive acts. My research also shows that
you have an almost magical knack for finding what you're looking
for, probably because of your foolish determination to never give
up."

A satisfied smile tightened his lips. "In
other words, you are the perfect hunter: inventive, resolute and no
one would miss you if termination became necessary."

"You sure know how to...turn a girl's head."
I swallowed down the stinging pain in my throat and the dull ache
his walk down memory lane had spawned in the middle of my chest.
Palming the needle-like dart, I slouched against the back of the
chair and pretended to relax. "Lucky for me, I don't work for
you."

"When you accepted payment for the
renegades, you became part of an exclusive group, Miss Kittner. My
personal hunters are the best in the world, and their pay reflects
that."

"I didn't accept your money. I rejec—"

"What you choose to do with your earnings is
none of my concern. You took the money and a bargain was
struck."

A burning knot of fury clenched my stomach.
"You're not going to force any of this crap down my throat,
Bellmonte. I am not your—"

He slammed his palms down onto his desk and
despite myself, I jumped. The crystal vase of flowers on the corner
of the desk teetered and crashed to the floor. Water and flowers
scattered in an uneven sprawl across the thick, gray carpet.

"Please feel free to accept a long and
unpleasant death, Ms. Kittner," he said in a calm, authoritative
voice.

I narrowed my eyes at him and ground my
teeth to keep my anger from exploding into words I might
regret.

"The standard compensation
has been deposited into your credit account. Bring me those
responsible for the assault on my nephew, and I
might
forgive your long list of
insulting behavior. Bring them to me alive, and it will be as if
those insults had never happened."

Fisting my hand around the dart, I shot to
my feet. I'd had enough of this arrogant jackass messing with me.
The temptation to close the distance between us and show him
exactly how much he was not my boss fired along my nerves.

"My deepest regrets,
my lord
," I said with a
snarl. "I've just remembered that I need to be elsewhere." Keeping
my gaze on him, I backed toward the door.

"Do not make the mistake of throwing away my
money again," he said in a tone no different than "please have a
nice day".

I kept my teeth clamped on the words
fighting to get out of me. Pushing down on the cold, thick brass of
the handle, I pulled the door open and got the hell out of
Hell.

* * *

I came out of the building feeling a little more in control
of myself now that I had my gun back. I was also carrying two
take-out boxes, which I had mixed feelings about accepting. After
my quality time with the great and mighty Bellmonte, I hadn't
wanted anything more to do with vamp hospitality, but Ms. Fairview
had talked me into it. More like frantically insisted.

As furious as I was at her boss, I didn't
blame her for his behavior, and she seemed so nervous about me not
taking the meals that I'd finally given in. Maybe the jerk charged
her every time food was wasted.

Night was in full swing and the stars brave
enough to fight with the ambient glow of the city twinkled
overhead. Pulling in a deep breath of relief should have cleared my
mind. Instead, it brought me the unwelcome scent of moonlight and
forest. I tensed and turned toward Cooper. He was still wearing his
FBI uniform, which meant that he was still working. I noticed he'd
loosened his tie, at least.

From inside the building, the guards'
attention zeroed in on us. I wondered if they'd report to their
master that an FBI Were was chatting up one of their newest
hunters.

"And I thought my evening couldn't get any
worse," I said. "At least now I know why you really brought me in
on this case."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he propped
his shoulder against the glass of the building. "I told you. The
vamps find you fascinating."

"They wouldn't let you past the door, would
they?"

Pushing away from the wall, he took the top
container of food from me. As he stepped back, the light from the
streetlight next to us caught in his hair, making the wolf-pelt
silver threading through the brown and black shine like new dimes.
"Considering how vamps and Weres are mortal enemies deep down?
Nope. Stopped two feet from the door." Pulling off the fork taped
to the top of the box, he flipped open the lid and inhaled the rich
scent of meatballs and parmesan cheese. "What'd you find out?"

"Do you know where the vamp retrieval team
took the body?"

He nodded to the building behind him and dug
into the food like he hadn't had a meal in days. As a species,
Weres tended to have big appetites. Skipping a meal was torture for
them.

"I told you what vamp blood is used for.
What do you know about the venom trade?" I asked.

He cut his eyes up as he shoved a forkful of
spaghetti into his mouth. "It's illegal," he said around the
food.

"Was the vic selling?"

"You show me yours, and I'll show you mine,"
he said with a wink.

His flirting created a flutter of attraction
low in my stomach. I pushed it away. "The esteemed Regent of
Charlotte tried to kill me in his office."

"I saw the bruises. Is there a body I need
to deal with?"

"Not this time."

"The vic was dealing."

I thought about that for a moment. "Explains
the lifestyle he was able to give his donor." Vampire venom went
for an astronomical amount on the street because of its rarity. But
the fact that he was a dealer opened up an enemy list about a block
long.

Cooper scraped up the sauce on the bottom of
the container and closed the lid. He eyed the other box.
"Dessert?"

"I've no idea, but you're not getting
it."

"I'm still hungry." His silver-green eyes
heated with a new intensity, and for a moment I was pretty sure
that he wasn't talking about cookies.

"You ate tomorrow's breakfast. You're not
getting lunch, too."

"Then give me more information to distract
me." He tossed his trash into the receptacle next to the
streetlight. "You discovered something else in there. I can smell
it."

"That's the garlic on your breath." I opened
the second takeout box. Instead of a fork there was a note taped to
the underside of the lid. My heart jumped.

"What are you hiding, Addison?" he asked,
his voice going low.

I told myself to stay calm and threw out the
best distraction I could come up with on the fly. "I don't think
the vamp from the alley is dead."

The suspicion in his eyes converted into
interest. "Explain."

I met his gaze over the lid of the box. "The
secretary said something about a procedure starting, and that there
wasn't any change. It seemed to mean a lot to Lord Jackass."

The tension drained out of his shoulders and
amusement sifted through his voice. "Lord Jacka—" He shook his
head, a touch of admiration and frustration on his face. "And you
concluded they were trying to revive him?"

I dug my forefinger into the thick,
chocolate frosting covering the slab of three-layer cake inside the
box. Snapping the container closed, I made a show of eating the
icing. "How should I know what vampires do in their spare
time?"

As I'd hoped, Cooper's attention zeroed in
on me cleaning the sugary treat off of my finger. "You have a
serious mean streak. You know how much I love chocolate."

I decided not to push my luck since he was
perfectly capable of snatching the dessert box out of my hands
before I could stop him. "I have a bus to catch," I said, wiping my
finger on my jeans as I gave him my best innocent smile. "Don't
follow me. I'd hate it if you got shot by accident."

"I knew you cared!" he called after me as I
walked away.

* * *

I
settled onto the vinyl padded seat of the hoverbus and retrieved
the note from inside my takeout box. The message was hand written
in a non-descript print that could have been from anybody in
Bellmonte's employ.

The note was simple. Only a name, address
and the words "See her." How gothically cryptic.

As a precaution against being followed, I
switched buses three times before I stepped onto the only hover
that went out to Morrocroft Estates. When I was a kid, the gated
community had been the happy hunting ground of bankers, CEOs and
other high flyers who valued perfect lawns, decorative pools,
golfing and prestige. When the first paranormal strikes hit, a lot
of areas like it went down under the fighting and never came back
up.

It was still a gated community, but the
pretty brick walls had been built up to about twenty feet using the
rubble from destroyed houses. After that, they'd sanded it smooth
and coated the stone with something that made the surface as smooth
and slick as glass so nothing could climb it and then put spelled
barbed wire along the top.

The mansions that weren't part of the wall
had been renovated into apartments, and their lawns either paved
over for parking or turned into efficiency farms. If you were human
and paranoid about things that went bump in the night, then
Morrocroft was a good choice for you.

On the way across town, I got busy with my
old iC and pulled up what information I could about the property. I
needed a cover story and I needed one fast. Info retrieval was slow
on the older technology, and I had to admit that sometimes I envied
Cooper his toys. Forty minutes later I was the only passenger on
the bus and had reached the last stop on the corner of Colony Road
and Morrocroft Farms.

"You sure this is your stop?" the operator
asked. He was a burly, dark-skinned guy with gray peppering his
dense, curly black hair. "Weird stuff lives out here. Weirder stuff
lives in there." He jabbed his thumb toward the ribbon of road
jutting off to the left.

"Just visiting a friend," I said.

He grunted and pressed a series of buttons
on his spaceship-like dashboard. The hover eased down to the
platform with a hiss and a few clunks as it connected to the
walkway and then the doors slid open. "Last ride back comes at
10:30. I wouldn't miss it if I were you."

I thanked him and headed down the beat-up
asphalt road that led to Morrocroft. About eighteen minutes later,
I arrived at the imposing gate. The twenty-foot high solid iron
composite doors stood open and the night guard lounged in the
reinforced gatehouse. He barely glanced up as I approached.
Probably because of the yellow, translucent haze shimmering between
the fifteen-foot wide opening.

I went up to the window and noticed that the
thick grate covering it also faintly glowed yellow. With that level
of magical protection, I wasn't sure why Morrocroft even needed a
guard.

I gave the fortyish Hispanic man a tentative
smile and put on my best young-and-innocent act. "I'm here to see
the apartment in 4244. I'm Sandy Hatcher."

"You'll have to leave your para weapon here.
There are drop boxes by the entrance. Pick one," he said without
looking up from the football game playing on his iC. I noticed he
had one of the latest models. Maybe I was in the wrong line of
work.

I went around to the gate and found a row of
six black boxes sitting against the side of the guard house. They
were only a few feet from the gate, and I could feel the pressure
coming off the neutralization barrier that blocked the entrance.
Placing my gun in the first box, I locked it and pocketed the
key.

As I approached the yellow-tinted haze, the
whisper of magic played across my face and bare arms like
electrically charged air just before a lightning strike. If a human
could feel the power of the spell, any paranormal getting this
close would be nearly immobilized by it.

Whoever had constructed the barrier not only
knew what they were doing, but had some serious magical firepower
to draw on. With a running start, a paranormal attacker might
manage to dive through the protection, but they'd land on the other
side a smoking, charred pile of bones. I bet the same spell was on
the barbed wire. Probably explained the bored lack of concern of
the guard.

I walked through, feeling nothing more than
a warm brush of power across my skin and arrived on the other side.
"Take one of the bikes," the guard called from the open window that
faced the property. "Go to the left. Turn right at the crossroads.
The house you want is down on the right."