“I woke up yesterday morning,” I started.
“What time?” Quillan interrupted.
I shifted in my chair and resisted the urge to sigh. I should’ve known better-I’d have to give minute details. Hades-be-damned, I so didn’t have the patience for this. “In the late morning, maybe ten a.m.” He nodded. “Go on.” I glanced at Saturn. The quill pen was doing a good job of writing our every word. Time to trip the thing. “Ten a.m.,” I started, my voice a whisper. The quill paused and cocked its feather, as if trying to make out what I was saying. “Dulcie, don’t screw around,” Quillan interrupted with an impatient sigh. I frowned and figured it was fun while it lasted. The pen tapped itself against the scroll. The thing had no sense of humor. “Okay, okay,” I grumbled. “Anyway, I woke up at ten and ate some cereal. Before you ask, it was frosted flakes.” Quillan just shook his head.
“Then I took a shower and tidied up the apartment. I’d planned a visit to Fabian’s dark arts store because word on the street was he’d be receiving a delivery soon.”
“How did you know it was arriving yesterday?” Quillan interrupted.
“Well, I didn’t know for sure it was going to come yesterday. Trey had been getting visions of a truck delivery to Fabian’s sometime last week, so I made sure I patrolled pretty frequently.”
“But, Trey didn’t get any inkling that Fabian would be murdered?” Quillan leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles. Holy Hades, he was one sexy bastard.
I shrugged. “If Trey did, he didn’t share that with me.” I took a breath. “So, when I went to talk to Fabian about his delivery, he looked nervous. He was helping a stranger who I’d never seen before, which threw me off. Otherwise, I would’ve been prepared for the Hemmen spell.”
“The stranger,” Quillan started. “Can you describe him?”
“Tall, maybe three inches taller than you.”
Quillan faced the airborne pen. “I stand five feet, eleven inches making this stranger six feet two inches.” He faced me again. “What else, Dulce?” I frowned. Quillan was really five-ten, but if he wanted that little inch, he could have it. “He had dark hair and blue eyes.” “How dark was his hair?” “Black.” “What type of creature was he?” I shook my head. “That’s the kicker. I couldn’t tell.” “Let the record note this stranger didn’t register with Headquarters,” Quillan added. Every time he spoke, he faced Saturn as if he were addressing a crowd full of voters who might put him into office. “Once he bespelled you, then what happened?” he asked.
“Fabian must’ve known I was paying attention to the stranger cause that’s when he put the Hemmen on me. I left the store immediately because I started to feel pretty sick. It took me a few minutes to realize it was the spell taking shape. I ran all the way to Sam’s house, and then the spell took over and turned me into that blob.” Quillan faced the pen again. “For the record, ‘Sam’ is Samantha White, witch. Employee of Splendor, A.N.C. Headquarters.” “34 B bust size,” I added. Quillan just smiled. “How far does Sam live from Fabian’s?” “Half a mile.” “Were you able to see what Fabian had in the truck delivery?” He paused. “Could the stranger have been the delivery driver?”
I shook my head. “No, he wasn’t dressed in uniform. And, no, I didn’t get to see what Fabian had in the delivery. He bespelled me before I got the chance.” Quillan nodded and clapped his hands together before leaning forward. “Okay, Dulce, that’s all I needed. You’re free to go.” “That’s it?” He threw me a smile. “I believe you’re innocent, Dulce. Just have to follow procedure.”
I stood up as he opened the door and poked his head out, calling for Lottie to take care of Saturn. When he returned his gaze to me, there was something in his eyes…concern maybe?
“I know I don’t need to tell you this,” he started with a pause. “Just be careful on this case, okay?”
I nodded and strode out the door, smiling to myself as I thought maybe my day wasn’t going to be screwed up after all.
###
Three hours later, I sat at my computer, typing out the last scene of my romance novel, Captain Slade’s Bounty. The book was about a pirate Captain, Slade Montgomery and a stowaway named Clementine. Over the course of two months at sea, Clementine and the Captain had sex nine times, and I was ending the book with their tenth.
But I was having trouble seeing the scene in my head-typical writer’s block. I tapped my fingers against the particleboard of my Ikea desk and watched the cursor blink, taunting me with its restlessness. I just couldn’t really get into writing about Slade’s engorged manhood as it penetrated Clementine in her naughtiest of places.
Instead, my mind refused to relinquish images of Fabian’s severed head. With a frustrated sigh, I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up an image of Quillan wearing only an eye patch. Even though it usually got my writing juices flowing, it did nothing for me now.
Well, when you can’t write, you can edit. I clicked on the search and replace option and began replacing Quillan’s name with Captain Slade’s. It was lots easier to imagine Quillan as my pirate hero if I wrote using his name. Go figure. The phone rang and I bolted for it. “Hi, Sam,” I said, after catching her name on the caller ID. “Hi, Dulce. Quillan told me about Fabian. That’s crazy.”
I plunked down into my sofa and played with my dry cuticles. “Yeah, it was pretty awful. It looked like he’d been ripped apart, but there was no blood.”
Sam gasped. “So you think it was vampires?”
At the mention of vampires, I pulled at one dry cuticle too hard, and it began to bleed, the color of liquid gold. “Too soon to tell.”
“So, what are you doing now?”
I eyed the open document page on my computer screen and noted the cursor still blinking like it was pissed off that I was on the phone. Pretty soon the screen saver would kill it with a calming picture of fish in a tank.
“Well, I was trying to work on my book, but I have writer’s block.”
“Oh.” She paused. “You’ve been writing a lot. Don’t you think maybe you should get out and…”
“Sam, we’ve been through this,” I started, knowing where the conversation was headed. I hadn’t dated anyone in a year, not since my last boyfriend had dumped me after a five-year relationship. “I’m just not ready.” Sam sighed. “I know, Dulce, it’s just been a long time since you even went out on a date.” “Sam…” “I’m just saying I think you have trust issues.”
I knew I had trust issues but I really didn’t blame myself considering I’d trusted someone for five years only to find out he’d been banging some chick for the last three years of our relationship.
“Anyway,” Sam exhaled. “Want to catch a movie and dinner?”
“Can’t. I have to go talk to Bram and Dagan about Fabian and that stranger. I want to see if they might have some news about it. You can come along if you want.”
Sam’s silence was telling. She’d had a fling with Bram for about a month. Only it turned out, he’d been going out with her to get closer to me. Or, so she said.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I offered, knowing it’s never fun to see an ex.
“I’m totally over Bram. I’ll go. We should make a night of it since I can’t remember the last time we went clubbing together.”
It had been a while. I wasn’t super crazy about clubbing, but since I’d be going to No Regrets anyway, might as well enjoy myself. And Bram was always good about offering us free drinks.
“Okay, why don’t I pick you up at ten?” I asked.
Now, if I could just get over my writer’s block.
###
It was nine-thirty. I eyed my reflection in the mirror and gave my black miniskirt and red halter top a satisfied smile. Thank God for push up bras-my 32Cs looked more like Ds. Nothing wrong with a little false bravado. I sprayed some Juicy Couture perfume on my neck and wrists and slipped into four-inch black heels. Grabbing my black leather jacket, purse and keys, I locked the door behind me and headed to the Wrangler.
I didn’t live in the best part of Splendor. My suburb, Ocacia, was eclectic-some wealthy people trying to turn it into yuppie central, like they’d done with neighboring towns. Then there were the lower income families, the elderly and the single, twenty-somethings like me. But, I was as safe as I would be anywhere else. Sam had put a protection spell on my entire apartment building which prohibited anyone who meant me any sort of harm from even stepping foot on our yard.
It even worked on Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Sam lives in the suburb just next to Ocacia-Cumquat. Her neighborhood is nicer than mine-the yuppies got to it first.
When I turned onto her street, I pulled out my cell phone and gave her a ring, not wanting to waste time parking and walking up to the door. Hey, it wasn’t like I was her date or something. The phone rang twice before she picked up.
“I’ll be there in two seconds,” I said.
She hung up, and I pulled in front of her white house. The garden’s the best part of Sam’s place. She’s an avid gardener and has every sort of flower blooming out front-azaleas, roses, snapdragons and honeysuckle just to name a few. I’ve had potted plants over the years, but I don’t have much of a green thumb. Kind of ironic considering I’m a fairy, a child of nature, but there you have it. It’d be more apropos to call me a child of concrete and asphalt.
Sam came out wearing her black pants and a blue tube top. She locked her door and jogged down her long entryway, not an easy feat given her high heels. I never understood why tall women wore heels. When you’re five-one like me, you need all the help you can get.
I whistled. “Look at you.”
She threw open the door and climbed in, giving me the once over as I pulled into the street. “Look at yourself,” she said and turned my CD player on. The Chemical Brothers came pounding out in an array of techno beats as Sam settled into her seat.
“What’s this?” she asked, leaning down between her feet and grasping a brochure I hadn’t wanted her to see.
Heat shot to my face. “Oh, it’s…it’s nothing. Just some junk mail.”
“If you feel self conscious about your ears,” she read as I cringed. “Call Dr. Goodman for a free consultation to learn how ear augmentation can work for you.” She tapped the brochure against her hand. “Dulcie, tell me you aren’t thinking about getting your ears done? Come on, that’s so not you.” There was no point in lying to her. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.” “But that’s what makes you a fairy, Dulce.” “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Sam frowned. “Does this have anything to do with Jack?”
Jack was my ex boyfriend of five years-the jerk who’d cheated on me. He’d always made fun of my ears, calling me Tinker Bell. “No, it has nothing to do with Jack.” “Okay, but isn’t it enough that you have beautiful hair and gorgeous green eyes? And you have the best nose in three counties.” I shook my head. “I was just thinking of going in for a consultation. It’s free and I don’t have to agree to anything.” “Sometimes I just don’t get you. If you do go, will you take me with you?” “Only if you’ll be open minded about it.” She nodded. “I will be.” She was quiet for a minute. “So, are you going to talk to Bram about Fabian?”
I bobbed my head and turned up the heater. “That and I want to ask him about that stranger I saw. Just find out if he’s seen or heard anything unusual.” “Are we going to Dagan’s too?” “No, not if I can help it. Ugh, I hate going there.” “Yeah, it’s not exactly a charming place.”
I turned a corner and No Regrets loomed before us, the place painted black so you couldn’t delineate it from the dark night sky. A bright red electric sign screamed from the wall and looked like it was floating. A line was already forming around the building. It was the one place where all the creatures of the Netherworld hung out. You might get a few humans thrown in here and there but most times, Bram kept them out. Most Netherworld creatures weren’t crazy about hanging out with humans.
“Crap, look at the line,” Sam said.
I pulled up in front and noticed Bram standing outside with Nick, the ogre. Nick was huge-just shy of eight feet, and he was as big as a wall. Nick’s face was broad, and his nose was flat and wide, with a bull’s ring through the middle. His eyes were too small for his face and his mouth, too big.
Ogres are known for having terrible tempers, and Nick was no exception. I’d seen him bounce a few wily wolves, and it hadn’t been pretty. Broken bones had been the result…and not Nick’s.
A huge smile lit Bram’s handsome face. He was tall-six-five and broad. Standing next to Nick, though, he looked emaciated. When Bram had been turned into a vampire, he’d had a day’s or so growth of stubble, so now he permanently looked the rogue. His looks tied with his English accent gave Colin Firth a run for his money (and I mean when Colin was the Mr. Darcy). “Ladies, ladies,” he said, materializing directly next to Sam. She tightened her jaw, but other than that, she looked totally at ease. “Can I park in the back, Bram?” I asked, noting there wasn’t a spot to be had on the street. He rested his long fingers on the Wrangler’s passenger door. “Please. Park next to me. I am pleased to see you both.” Sam rolled her eyes, and I just shook my head. Bram was the quintessential flirt. “Are you going to let go so I can go park or what?” He smirked with a great show of fangs and let go of the door as if it’d been scalding hot. Course, he was dead, so he wouldn’t notice cold or heat or anything else.
I pulled into the back of the No Regrets lot. Bram’s black Porsche beamed under the lamplight like it was proud of itself. I parked in the space next to it.
“Hopefully, Bram will be too busy tonight to bother us,” I said. “After I get my information out of him, that is.”
Sam laughed. “He seems to always make time where you’re concerned.”
I just shook my head and turned the car off as Sam and I jumped out. The back way in was always locked, so we walked around the front. As we passed the long line, I didn’t miss the angry yells and insults those still stuck in line threw at us. “Hey!” Nick yelled down the line. “Take it elsewhere if you don’t like it.” “Hi, Nick,” I said, always a little intimidated by the gargantuan guy. He was like looking up a redwood tree. “Dulcie and Sam,” he said with a drop of his head. Nick had it something bad for Sam, but she was as scared of him as I was. “Ah, you got my message, sweet,” Bram said, coming up behind us.
Tension filtered through my shoulders at the mention of “sweet”. Bram thought it was cute or something-Dulce meaning sweet in Spanish. So not original and so freaking annoying.
“I have some Regulator business to discuss with you, Bram,” I said.
He just smiled and leaned his elbow against Nick’s shoulder, who was sitting on a barstool. Bram reached for Sam’s hand and brought it to his lips.
“Lovely to see you, Samantha.”
She grumbled something unintelligible and started for the door. Nick gazed at her like she was chocolate and he was on a diet. Bram reached for my hand, but I batted his away. “Just say hello like any normal person would, Bram.” He chuckled and dropped his hand. “Do you have your identification on you, Dulcie, Sweet?” “My ID?” I repeated while irritation blazed through me. The bastard was going to ID me? “If you are on business, I need to see your A.N.C. ID, Sweet. It’s only standard protocol.” My ID was sitting on my desk looking at the ceiling and doing me absolutely no good. Goddamit. “I don’t have it,” I said. “What was that, Sweet?” Bram repeated.
I extended my hand, knowing I’d have to deal with his ministrations if I were to get inside the club and get him to answer even the simplest of questions. He took my hand and rather than kissing it, pulled me into the hard length of his chest. I squeaked in protest as he bent his head, grabbing my neck to hold me in place. Then he kissed me over my jugular. My heart pounded in my chest, as if it wanted to bust free and punch him in the face.
When he let go, I nearly lost my footing. “You son of a,” I started.
Bram’s raspy laugh interrupted me. Nick pretended he hadn’t seen anything, but his face was too red to deny the fact that he had. If I’d been in the right frame of mind, I might’ve actually thought an embarrassed ogre was pretty funny. “Please, Sweet, go inside, and I will join you shortly,” Bram said. I turned on my heel and walked inside.