Charmed & Deadly (2 page)

Amsterdam
Saturday
3 a.m.
Thoroughly perturbed witches: 1
Spells: 2
Potions: 2

M
akes me mad when someone else’s magic gets the best of me, but that’s exactly what happened.

Someone had spelled me with black magic so my mind had been muddled. The harder I tried to think, the worse it was. When I finally relaxed—
whammo!
—thoughts ran through my brain like rats on speed.

Once my synapses kicked in, it dawned on me. The magic. I might not be able to get into the dead gunman’s head to find out why he’d attacked, but we could trace back the magic in much the same way as I had done with the black wisps at the airport.

Argh! The longer I waited, the harder it would be.

I shoved the covers away and sat on the side of the bed. Using one of the new crystals I’d bought in New York last month, I did a clarifying spell to clear my mind. I popped open my bag of tricks and found a bottle of blue juice. The special concoction is a potion I made up to heal most anything, even the darkest magic.

I checked my aura in the mirror and noticed its pinky glow was emerging from a gray mist. I couldn’t believe I’d let someone do this to me.

Threw cold water on my face, put my mess of curls into a ponytail, and tossed on jeans and a T-shirt. Grabbing my boots and jacket I made my way through the door of the bedroom into the living area.

The PM was talking on the phone and frowned when he saw me.

I waited for him to finish and then explained what must be done.

“I need to get to the morgue, or whatever they call it in Amsterdam.” I headed toward the door.

“Could we have his things sent here? Do you need to see the body?” I turned to see the PM’s hand was paused over the phone.

I thought for a moment. “No, the clothes would be enough.”

“I’ll take care of it. We’ll have them within the hour. Why don’t you get something to eat while we wait?” He pointed to a room service cart.

Food sounded good. I found what looked like a tuna sandwich. I’m not really big on fish, but who knew tuna could be so yummy? They’d mixed it with a wasabi mayonnaise and the flavors were spicy but not too hot. I opened a Diet Coke and let the caffeine clear the tired from my brain.

By the time the gunman’s clothes arrived, I’d somewhat revived. I had the police officer place the items in the center of the dining table.

“Sir,” I faced the PM. “I’m not sure what to expect with this. You may want to go in the other room.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think not.”

I shrugged and turned my attention to the sniper’s belongings.

The black clothing didn’t look ominous, but I knew better. I circled the bag with salt and said a protection spell.

Goddess of Light I call thee
,

Protect us from the evil within the circle;

Give us guidance on this night
,

Help us trace the darkness to its beginning;

As I will
,

So mote it be
.

To counteract any backlash magic, I placed four blue crystals around the bag.

Lifting the ends of the bag, I opened it and slid the dark sweater and pants onto the table with a pair of tongs I borrowed from the salad bowl. There were no other items except a white-gold Rolex.
A well-paid gunman, to be certain
.

Taking a deep breath I held my hands over the items and cleared my brain. A dark magic protected this man, and it held tight, taking me absolutely nowhere. Tiny black wisps spun off it, but nothing to trace. There was something about it, though. Something familiar.

I shivered. Yes, I knew that magic. The smell alone would have done, but I’d also seen those evil black wisps before. It belonged to my college sweetheart, Jason Asshole Gladstone.

I should have killed the jerk when I had the chance.

Sunday
8 a.m.
Somewhere between Amsterdam and London on the P.M.’s private jet
Tired witches: 1

I want to go home. I want to have wild and crazy sex with my boyfriend, Sam. I want to sit in my living room with my new plasma television and watch
Live with Regis and Kelly
, and those chicks from
The View
argue about nothing. I want to stuff my face full of Lulu’s chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and top the whole thing off with chocolate cake. I want to hang out with my friends Kira, Caleb, and Margie and talk about who’s cheatin’ on who at the Piggly Wiggly.

I want to do all of those things, but it’s not happening today.

My first stop is getting the prime minister and Miles settled into their London digs. Cole, a chief inspector with the International Magic Police, flew in yesterday to travel with us. He’s saved my butt more than once so he’s on the friend list, but he can be annoyingly bossy at times.

I called him immediately after I realized Jason was behind the hit on the PM and myself in Amsterdam.

“Cole, how did that bastard get out?” I screamed into my cell.

“Hello, Bronwyn, rough day?” Cole stayed calm, which only made me angrier. “The weather here in Manhattan is beautiful.”

“I’m not in the mood for your crap. Jason Gladstone tried to kill us today, and I want to know why you idiots let him out of spook prison.”

Cole sighed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but let me see. This Jason guy, is he someone you know from the past?”

“Duh! College sweetheart who tried to kill me.” I paced back and forth on the soft carpet of the living area in our suite. I glanced over at the PM who was trying to look busy while listening intently at the same time.

“Wow! You really know how to pick them.” I heard him typing on a keyboard. “What was the last name again? Gladstone?”

“Yes.” I bit out the word.

“Okay. He was released two years ago to the Smith-Hawke Institute for Reformation.”

That’s where they take a bad warlock and totally wipe out his memories and powers, with the hopes of making him good again.

“I can’t believe it. Well, their idiotic mumbo jumbo, sure the hell didn’t work. His magic was all over this sniper who tried to kill us at Schiphol today.”

“Huh. It says here that he’s still at the Institute. Are you sure it was him?”

Yes. No. I don’t know
. I’d been wrong before, but I didn’t think I was this time. “When someone tries to kill you with magic, you remember it Cole. You know that. It’s something that stays with you long afterward. I know his magic. I realize there isn’t anything scientific about that, but I just know it.” I told him what I picked up when I took a look at the assassin’s personal belongings.

He grunted. “Your instincts are seldom off. I’ll check into it. If he’s left the institute we’ll track him. I’m sending someone to pick up the clothing so our people can get a better lead.”

I stared at the pile on the table. “It’s really dark magic. I tried.”

“We have resources that can help us break down those wards. Don’t worry—if it’s him, we’ll find him.” The spook squad was capable of tracing magic like a fingerprint, no matter how impenetrable it might seem. Of course it could take a month. I needed to find him a lot faster than that. I didn’t want to give him another chance to kill me.

We disconnected and I told the PM everything Cole had said. He wasn’t happy about the news. Every time magic is involved in an assassination attempt things get very complicated.

It also put the threat solely on my shoulders. The gunman hadn’t been trying to kill the PM. He was most likely after me. Lovely.

The great thing about the PM is he never points the blame finger. His job puts us all in danger, too, so he gets it. Doesn’t really make me feel any better that he is so understanding, but it helps me keep my job when crap like this goes down.

Later that night, Cole called with the news.

“Gladstone’s been out for six months.” Frustration was evident in Cole’s voice. “His records indicate he was totally reformed, but he wasn’t ever supposed to leave the institute. Someone screwed up in a major way.”

“God. The man tried to kill me. How could they let him go?” On the upside, if he
was
loose, then I could kill him.

“I don’t know, Bron, but I’m headed there to find out. You don’t need the advice, because you’re used to angry warlocks trying to obliterate you from the planet, but be careful. I don’t think it’d be a bad idea for you to head back to Sweet as soon as possible.”

I would if I could.

The PM decided he’d feel better on his home turf, too, so he arranged for us to get out of Amsterdam as soon as Miles was able to travel.

The namby-pamby Brit is holding up well considering he’d been hit in the shoulder with a bullet. He hasn’t whined once, which may have something to do with the heavy sedation. The big question is if he will be able to use his arm again. A doctor and two nurses are traveling with us on the PM’s private jet, but so far the trip has been uneventful.

Cole’s been talking with the PM for the past hour. He wants to add some mystical support to the security staff, besides me—two or three people who can be with the PM full time. Basically, they’re cops with powers, but nothing too strong. Their presence will give me a much-needed break.

I need to get home and recharge. All of this traveling makes me feel frazzled. I need to be at my best when I face Jason.

London
1 p.m
.

Everyone is settled in at the PM’s London estate. Miles has his own set of rooms and medical staff to look after him. We’ve beefed up the security force and I’ve done a quick sweep of everyone. I don’t see anything dark lurking here.

We’ve had more than one security breach the past few months, so I have to keep a constant check on everyone who works on the PM’s staff. Even when I’m in Sweet I do daily checks.

Cole’s staying on for a few days to make the changes he’d talked about with the PM. I’m in a limo on my way to Heathrow. I’m heading to New York in a few hours and then on to Sweet.

Earlier today I called Sam to tell him that I was finally coming home.

“I can’t wait, baby.” His sexy voice melted over me like hot butter on a freshly baked roll.

“You need to rest up, because I’m so jumping your bones when I walk in the door.”

He laughed. “I’ll make sure to have my bones jumping ready. What do you want from Lulu’s?”

“Hmmm. Everything. Tell the girls to surprise me.” Ms. Helen and Ms. Johnnie are two hot chicks in their seventies who can cook better than anyone has a right to. I’ve never had anything bad at Lulu’s—ever.

“I’ll tell them and make sure they have some extra apple pie for us.” His voice dipped just the tiniest bit when he said it and I had to cross my legs.

Our apple pie experiment had been extremely successful.

“Yes,” I cleared my throat. “Apple pie should definitely be on the menu.”

He laughed again. I loved the sound. The last six months had been tough for us. A stupid warlock, Blackstock, had tried to kill us. We’d survived but it hadn’t been easy. We’d also had to work out some difficult issues, mostly about trust, but things were going along well these days.

“Bron?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” That was his code for “thank God you didn’t die—again.” Every time I left home that was a possibility.

I told him everything about Jason’s sniper attack.

He blew out a breath, making a soft motorboat sound with his lips. “But you’re okay?”

“Yes. I feel weird. I don’t know how to explain it. I thought I would never have to mess with that guy again.” I hated that we had to deal with another badass warlock.

“You know we can handle it, Bron. We’ve been through worse.”

True.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. Sam was one incredible man.

“You know I feel exactly the same way. Oh, before I forget. Kira told me to mention that she and Caleb decided to buy the house down the street, so they’ll be your permanent neighbors.”

The local librarian, Kira, had become one of my dearest friends. Caleb, a hot-shot investigative reporter, was appointed by my brother Brett to sort of look after me while Brett’s in Africa saving the world. I don’t know what Kira sees in him. He reminds me a little too much of my stinky brother. But I guess Caleb’s an okay guy.

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry whether or not they’ll fix the place up. I bet Caleb can’t wait to get his hands on that house.” In between writing articles, Caleb had helped me fix up my abode, and had done a darn good job. He had his merits.

“Yes, we’ve been invited to a housewarming next weekend. The invitation says wear the oldest clothes you own.”

“Sounds like we’ll be painting.” I laughed. It was the least I could do; Kira and Caleb had done so much for me.

“The car is pulling up in front of the airport. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” I blew a kiss in the phone.

“I’ll warm up the apple pie.”

Oh, that man. He gets me every time.

Manhattan
Monday, 11 a.m.
Spells: 3

A
fter taking a commercial flight in from London, I rested for a few hours at the Meridian this morning. I’m making a quick stop by Garnout’s shop to pick up supplies. He’s my favorite wizard and I think I may be the daughter he never had. I know he’s been having a tough time keeping the peace between some of the local covens. Corporations are now using magic to protect their investments, and you know what happens when money and magic mix, it all goes to hell.

It’s Garnout’s job as a wizard, one of the most powerful beings on the planet, to keep things in the magical community in an even balance. It isn’t easy in a place like Manhattan, where witches and warlocks thrive on the energy. There are more covens there than anywhere else in the world.

The last few times I’ve talked with Garnout, he’s sounded tired. I’ll stop by and see how things are going, and use the supplies as an excuse.

If I were a good daughter I’d also stop by my mom and dad’s brownstone, but I’m not. Oh, I love my parents beyond belief, but if I walk into that house my mom will want to talk for hours and she’ll try to give me six pairs of designer shoes or something. Well, the shoes aren’t such a bad deal. It’s all the bonding and guilt that come with it.

I just want to get home to Sweet. (Maybe I’ve mentioned that, but I feel like I’m in a hamster wheel.) I can see so clearly where I want to go, but I just can’t seem to get there.

I’ll check on Garnout and then I’m outta here.

Newark Airport
2 p.m
.

Garnout doesn’t look good. He has always had a big white beard, but he’s never seemed old. Today he did, and he wore one of his fancy robes. He only wears the gold one when he’s working on something big. I hate it when he won’t tell me what’s going on. Stubborn wizard.

Since I was there, I decided I might as well do some shopping. I picked up a couple of Doron spheres. They come in handy when channeling power under a full moon. I also needed a new mortar and pestle. My idiot cat, Casper, decided to knock mine off the worktable and now there’s a big, long crack in it.

I knew Garnout was in a bad mood because he kept picking on me, which isn’t at all normal. Except when he’s giving me dire warnings about death ahead, he’s a pretty laid-back kind of wizard.

“Have you been updating your Book of Shadows as your power grows?” His long white beard was tossed over his shoulder as he perused some book that looked like it was made from an animal’s hide. PETA would love that one.

“Yes.” I lied. “Well, it isn’t completely updated but I did make some new notes.” Pink sticky ones to remind me to write it all down later, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Hmmph,” he grunted and lifted a hand. Down floated a black stone mortar. Garnout never even looked up.

“Oh, I like this one. Very nice.” I smiled.

“Pestle to match on the third shelf to your left.”

I found it and put it on the counter with the bowl. I continued to browse, picking up a few more things and watching him out of the corner of my eye.

Garnout’s shop is filled from floor to ceiling with oddities for witchcraft and wizardry, almost anything you can imagine, and if he doesn’t have it, he can make it appear. The shop is located in the überwealthy Upper West Side, and his apartment faces the tree-lined paths of Riverside Park. A few months ago he’d nursed me back to health there, when I’d almost died for the third time in two months.

Whatever was going on with him, he didn’t want to talk about it. Of course, that didn’t keep me from trying.

“Garnout, is something wrong?”

He ignored me.

“Garnout?” I crossed my arms.

Finally, he looked up. His blue wizard eyes were hazy at first and then focused in on me. Darn, what kind of book was he reading? Maybe it was wizard porn.

“Bronwyn? Did you find everything you need?” He closed the book and I tried to read the spine, but he moved it.
Argh!

“Yes. I also wanted to know if everything was okay.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, and if I do need your help, I’ll ask.” He punched the old-fashioned cash register with a vigor I didn’t think necessary.

Well, okay then
. He was right. If he needed my help, he’d ask. We’d always been there for each other. At least since we met five years ago.

“I guess that’s about it, then.” I handed him the cash for my purchases. “I’m headed home. Can’t wait to have some of Lulu’s chicken-fried steak.”

“Mmmm. A delightful delicacy, as I remember.” His expression softened. “Tell those lovely ladies who run the diner I said hello.”

“I will.” I paused by the door with the tiny bell that chimed whenever a customer entered the store. Closing my eyes I sent him a quick comfort spell to ease his worry.

He shook his head. “Save your strength, young woman. You never know when you may need it most. I’m an old man with a lot on my mind, but don’t worry yourself. I’m fine.” Then he smiled, a real Garnout smile, and I felt better.

“Garnout, you can tell me anything.”

He shooed me away with his hands. “I know, Bronwyn. Enjoy your time at home and tell your doctor and friends I send my best wishes.”

I considered telling him about Jason, but I didn’t want to add to his worries.

“I will.” I waved good-bye.

Tuesday
2 p.m.
Sweet, Texas
Thoroughly satisfied witches: 1
Fantastically talented boyfriends: 1
Dead guys: 0, but I’m working on it

Have I mentioned lately what a lucky chick I am? When things get dark—and they usually do—I need to remember days like yesterday.

My tall, tanned, and handsome boyfriend, Dr. Sam, met me at the hangar as I guided in the jet. He wore jeans, and a black button-down shirt. He’d been spending a lot of time outdoors and his skin had turned the color of caramel. His black wavy hair had just been trimmed and I could tell, even from the cockpit, that he’d had a professional shave. Mmmm. I couldn’t wait to rub my face against his.

I did a quick systems check and opened the door.

“Hey beautiful.” He reached up to help me down the steps. I skipped the last two and lunged into his arms, kissing every bit of Dr. Sam’s gorgeous mug.

Holding my head still with his hands, he captured my lips in his. Sweetness. I would never grow tired of the man’s kisses.

He tasted like peppermint Altoids and—

I backed up. “Hey. Did you eat Lulu’s chicken-fried steak without me?”

He shrugged. “Bron, a man has to eat.”

I growled. “You didn’t have to eat chicken-fried steak. You know I’ve been craving it for weeks.” I put my hands on my hips.

“Babe. How can I make it up to you?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a silly way.

I thought for a moment. “Well, you could, um, help me make the bed in the back of the plane.” I pointed toward the tail.

“Really? And why is it messed up? Something you want to tell me?” He pulled back, but grinned.

“It isn’t messy yet, but it’s going to be.” I tugged on his hand and he followed me up.

He did that thing where he makes me stand still and he undresses me. Then he slides his hand from the middle of my breasts down to the melting parts and I pretty much turn into jelly-knees at that point.

Let’s just say, Dr. Sam is very, very good with his hands and has a wonderful bedside manner. An hour and a half later I was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Making love with him does that to me.

I was also hungry.

Facing me, he drew a finger over my cheeks and down to my lips. I grabbed his sexy finger and bit.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“For not bringing chicken-fried steak with you.” I kissed the boo-boo to make it better. The sheets were tangled around my ankles and I wondered where we’d left my bra.

He grinned. “I thought you forgave me and that’s why we’re here.”

“For total forgiveness you must feed me. Now!” I rolled on top of him. “Or I might have to devour you.” I winked.

He chuckled. “That’s not a very good threat, Bron. I’ve been devoured plenty of times by you and it’s quite nice.”

“Nice?” I smirked.

“Wrong word. Delightful. Quite delightful.”

“That’s better. So,” I said as I jumped off him and reached for my leather bag to change clothes, “while I finish checking out the jet, you call Kira and Caleb and see if they want to meet us at Lulu’s. We’ll have a good visit. Then you and I are going back to my place. I think you need some practice with this forgiveness thing.”

He’d been sliding on his jeans, but stopped to grab my arm and pull me to him.

“Practice? You think
I
need practice?” He whispered the words into my ear and then followed by tracing the outside of the lobe with this tongue.

I shivered with pleasure. “Mmmmm,” I moaned. “Practice makes perfect, Sam.” I whispered the words back to him.

“Oh, I’m going to practice on you all night.” His voice was deep and hungry.

“I can’t wait.” I kissed him.

Dinner was delayed a little longer.