Repossessed (25 page)

And Elena’s hand! A dazzling engagement ring blinked at Tessa from across the room as Elena held her book. Old Liam had popped the question.

Tessa pumped her fist in victory.

“Do you see now?”

“Yes, Grandma. I see now.”

“Look at the wonderful things you’ve done. C’mon, it’s time to go.” Grandma left the living room.

“Back home?”

“No, we need to make another visit.”

Their journey took them across the Hudson River into Jersey. Who would she see next?

After a forty-five minute cab ride, they reached the outside of a sprawling mansion. With its gothic columns and quirky spirals, the place stood out against the modern, gated mansions along the road.

Once outside the cab she asked, “How do we get in?”

“The same way as before.” Grandma Kilburn took her hand and led her through the fence. They walked up the flagstone path to the ornate double doors with sculptures of cherubs carved into the dark wood. She peered at the door, wondering what lay behind them. Was this Cramer’s house? Did her grandmother find him?

With impatience, Grandma yanked her through the thick door, cursing as they stormed through an incantation protecting the entrance.

“I remember back in the good old days when locks were enough to protect homes. Now people need spells to protect stuff. Your Aunt Lenore put a protection spell on her recipe box.” She harrumphed. “As if anyone would want to steal a recipe for dry and hard pumpkin cookies.”

Once through the doors, they ascended a grand staircase. Twenty-foot windows offered a view of a sprawling front yard beyond the door. At the top of the stairs, the tinny sounds of a harpsichord being played could be heard from the room at the end of the long hallway.

Tessa followed her grandmother into a room—the music room. There were two rows of seating for guests, along with rows of cabinets for sheet music. Along the far walls, built-in shelves were filled with old books. Once in the middle of the room, she could make out the couple that played. With jovial faces, they danced over the keys. They battled as they played, with one jumping back and forth between the first and second row.

It was her first client. A referral from her grandmother to get her started. Lionel Singer sat with his wife Amelia and continued to play as they watched. Tessa took a step closer to see that Amelia was expecting. After three years, their relationship had moved from marriage to now a pregnancy. Her heart swelled with satisfaction.

She did this. She made this happen. And all of this from introducing two people who very likely would’ve never met. Amelia worked in Long Island as a waitress while Lionel was an overbearing classical pianist out of Jersey.

“You’ve done great work here, Tessa. Do you see the true magic in this room?”

“Yes, Grandma. I do.”

“Good. Then it’s time to get to work.” With a swish of her transparent hands, their mask of invisibility fell. “Good evening, Mr. Singer. My granddaughter needs your help.”

Tessa expected any normal warlock to show shock when someone pops up out of nowhere in his home. Lionel took it very well.

“You could’ve knocked, Mrs. Kilburn. A door, to be precise.”

“Nonsense. I listen to you and your wife playing all the time. No need to bother you two.”

Amelia reddened. Tessa sure hope Grandma left when they decided to do a little something extra on the music bench.

He offered a stern face as he stood and offered them seats. “How may I be of assistance at this late hour?”

Her grandmother briefly went over her tale while Lionel and Amelia nodded at the appropriate moments.

“I wish I could help in regard to Archibald, but I’m afraid I’m not part of his circle of associates.”

Grandma nodded with a slight frown.

Amelia joined their conversation. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t try to set a plan in motion in case we find someone who can contact him. I think I have an idea.”

Amelia made a clever event planner. Within a half-hour, she had a plan to hold the party at their home. She’d handle hiring a formal event planner to secure the seating and decorations. Lionel’s quartet would provide music for the evening. Tessa couldn’t have been more pleased. All she needed was to secure the food and move heaven and earth to find someone who didn’t want to be found.

Twenty-four hours had passed since Tessa’s grandmother had offered a helping hand. But the clock was ticking; tomorrow the party was expected to take place.

Tessa called Ursula and Danielle to meet at them at her apartment for an emergency meeting. They went over the list of clients to determine if any of them would cater the event or donate their time to help.

She struggled to humble herself and ask for help. Losing the scroll was hard enough to endure.

“Don’t worry about calling them, Tessa,” Danielle said. “I have a way with words.”

“I may not want to do it, but these are my clients. I need to step forward and ask.” She glanced at the list with notes scrawled after the names. Who’d cater an event twenty-four hours before it took place? “Have we decided who’d be crazy enough to help us?”

Ursula tapped the fourth and seventh name on the list. “Kent Gilmore and Quincy Harper would be our best bets. Ken owns restaurants out of Chicago and Quincy is a head chef here in Manhattan.”

She picked up the list and headed into the kitchen to make the calls. Her hands shook as she dialed the numbers. Ken wasn’t available, but his secretary took her message. Quincy picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Quincy, how are you?”

His pleasant voice echoed a greeting and then he asked why she called.

“I’m in a bit of a bind. I have a last-minute party tomorrow and I need some help.”

“I know a few caterers who might be able to do a last-minute gig. But it’ll cost you plenty.”

“Yes, I know.” Her foot tapped against the floor. She bit her lower lip.
Just say it. Tell him!
“Look, I’m about to hold the largest event of my career and I don’t have a dime to spare.” Her voice caught for a moment, but she held on. “I would owe you big time if you could step in to help.”

A long pause. The noise of papers rustling on a desk.
He’ll say no.
She’d asked for too much. Said too much.

“It’s your lucky day! Not only do I have extra fish, but I have some culinary students who are coming in tonight. We could whip you up some hors d’oeuvres for your bash tomorrow.”

She nearly collapsed on the floor with joy. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Hey, everybody has hard times. My life has definitely taken a turn for the better with Melanie. But I hope you’ll survive this and come out squeaky clean.”

“I will, thanks again.”

They finished their conversation with how Amelia Singer’s event planner would contact him. She was about to leave the kitchen when her iPhone beeped with an incoming message:
T, I pulled off the impossible through a wizard commanding officer. A.C. will be back in town tomorrow. Be ready. Rob.

Another message followed with the address of a penthouse in Midtown. Cramer’s home.

Tessa’s hand covered her mouth to stifle her squeal. Holy shit, Rob did it!

Ursula bounded into the kitchen with Danielle not far behind. “What’s going on?”

When she caught her breath, Tessa said, “Not only do we have a caterer, but we have the guest of honor coming as well.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dating Tip #1: One of the most important things to remember are the rules of engagement do not apply to all couples—whether they are werewolves or fairies—one size doesn’t fit all. Use your heart and you may find it leads you in the right direction.

The next morning, Rob arrived back in NYC to complete his mission. The minute he stepped into the Coney Island neighborhood, he sighed. Coming back here should’ve included the prospect of seeing Tessa again, but that wasn’t meant to be.

Right off Surf Avenue, he took in the sounds of amusement rides, busy shop fronts, and mobs of plucky tourists. A place meant for fun and relaxation hid a darker side. One of the most iconic places in American culture was the NYC hotspot for warlocks. Go figure.

“I love Coney Island!” Harabeuji spouted from Rob’s hip. The bag spirit haggled him to no end to get on the roller coasters.

No more than a hundred feet away, on the other side of the street, Rob flicked a glance at a man with a younger kid holding a stuffed toy. The guy broadcasted his abilities loud and clear as a wizard—yet even with his powers, he didn’t take a step to cross the street toward the amusement park. Such was the collective power of the warlocks to fence off three city blocks and keep the white magic spellcasters away.

The poor wizard scowled then pulled his kid away. He probably was pissed he couldn’t visit Nathan’s Hot Dogs. Rob considered that a crime in and it of itself, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Just another reason for everybody to want to piss in the other camp’s backyard.

Rob kept going toward the exhibits along Jones Walk. The late April breeze from the Atlantic Ocean touched his face and made him smile. Tessa would’ve liked this. How come they’d never taken the time to visit a place like this? With her refined nature, Tessa seemed better suited to fine restaurants and museums, but as he got to know her, she would’ve been just fine holding his hand while they waited in line for the Ferris Wheel or a roller coaster.

He laughed at the pleasant thought, imagining her giving him a hard time while he bought everything he encountered. Rob had a soft spot for corn dogs and cotton candy. They were just as important as bacon in terms of a man’s list of food groups.

He continued his stroll, taking his time to reach his final destination. At the end of Jones Walk, he reached what he considered the best location for the warlocks’ hangout, the freak show exhibit. The outside had all the decorations the curious human population craved: pictures of bearded ladies and mermaids on the wall, a machine that engraved your initials on a penny, and even more ways to suck the cash from your pockets.

The man who sold tickets for the show offered Rob a nod and let him pass. Rob hadn’t been here in a while. The guy at the ticket counter appeared new and looked as thrilled as the last chap who had to warm the seat. A job was a job these days.

The hallways weaved and curved, but he didn’t have any trouble following the path to the hidden rooms. As Rob got closer to the main clubhouse, his jaw tightened. The faces he passed in the hallway were either uncaring, or even worse, straight up freaking pissed. One guy even gave him a rude gesture, a past repo gig gone wrong when the man showed up as Rob carried away the goods. Not a single friendly face looked at him as he crossed the threshold into a large room with a bar and tables. The majority of the warlocks either nursed a drink at the bar or played some kind of card game at the tables.

A momentary hush came over the boisterous room the minute he walked in. Somebody in here had to be powerful—that was what he had to watch out for. Damn it all to hell, why was he doing this again? Playing the wizards’ game to right the wrongs and keep warlocks in line?

As he strolled through the room, he reminded himself of why he joined the military. Why he spent years training and working with his team. Wasn’t this situation the same? To protect innocents from those who had the means to harm them?

“You have a lot of nerve coming here, Shin.”

Rob hid his smile. He wasn’t exactly happy to be here either. The voice was familiar so Rob turned to look at the source. Flannery hadn’t changed much since Rob had taken his rabbit’s foot away. The dude had probably stolen another one.

“He stinks like wizards,” Flannery’s cohort at his table said. The two men shifted so they could smirk at Rob better.

“I’ve seen crusty
gisaengs
in broken-down brothels who smell better than they do,” Harabeuji whispered with a snort.

Rob shrugged, pushing the pair into howls. The laughs were easy to brush off. During his first few days in SEAL training, the officers had barked all sorts of orders, breaking down the recruits until their bodies and minds hardened. A few jokes from a bunch of warlocks didn’t amount to jack shit.

“Just turn around and march on outta here,” the other man said. He tilted his black hat back to reveal a receding hairline.

Rob leaned on their table. “I’m thirsty, gentlemen.”

“The bar don’t serve your kind here,” Flannery spat.

“And what kind is that?”

“The kind that will sell out another warlock brother.”

Rob chuckled. He’d heard many others give him the same excuse to keep him from repossessing their shit.

“Why are you so intense?” Rob’s eyebrows lowered. “You got something to hide?”

“Why d-don’t you come check me?” Flannery’s balls had apparently grown bigger while he was here among other spellcasters. He’d shown less spunk when Rob was in his backyard.

“I’ll pass. I’m here looking for someone and I’m too busy to give you a pat down.”

“You’ll never find Dagger,” Flannery said slowly. “He doesn’t want to be found.”

Rob didn’t react to Flannery’s words, although he was a bit surprised word had gotten out somehow.

“Soon enough, people like you won’t matter when we bring down the wizards. Dagger will see to that.”

“Uh huh. We’ve been saying that for thousands of years.” Rob snagged some peanuts from the cup on the table. Neither man stopped him.

“He’s more powerful than you can imagine. Dagger’s the real deal.”

Rob resisted grinning. The groupie stench was strong with this one. “I’m sure he is, but Dagger doesn’t have the means to create his own dimension or even use a magician kit to hide a bunch of rabbits.”

“Who the hell are you to speak? Can you waltz in and out of Limbo? Do you have the means to do it?”

Rob shrugged and feigned a step back. This part of his mission had gone quicker than expected. It was always the big mouths that felt the need to open widest in the end.

Rob took another handful of peanuts. Flannery opened his mouth to speak, but Rob turned away and marched right out with a definite destination in mind.