Spellbound (37 page)

“Really drunk?”

“I'm sleeping on your lap.”

He chuckled.

“Why? Are you worried I'll puke on you?”

“Um, no.”

“Good, because I never puke.”

He laughed, his gaze dropping from mine. “Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?”

“You're drunk.”

“Um, yeah. We established that.”

“I'm drunk, too.”

“Okay.” I paused. “Is this conversation going somewhere?”

“Apparently not. We're both drunk so . . . Nope, it's not going anywhere.”

He swept my hair off my shoulder, hesitated, then shook his head, faced forward, and tugged me tighter against him. I laid my head back on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

I
woke up with my butt vibrating. I'd probably have ignored it, except that for a moment, I thought Adam was rubbing my ass, which was enough to wake me up . . . only to realize it was my phone.

I slid from his lap and snuck out of the lounge. The number showed a pay phone from an area code I didn't recognize. My sleepy brain tried to remember where Elena and Clay were, but there was no reason for them to call me in the middle of the night. It must be a contact of mine—Paige had gotten my old cell number transferred to my new phone.

I answered with a wary “Hello?”

“Savannah?” Male voice. No one I recognized.

“Yes.”

“It's me.” A faint cough, muffled, like he'd covered his mouth. The voice was strained and raspy. “Bryce.” Then as if that might not be enough, “Bryce Nast. Your, uh, brother.”

My hand tightened around the phone. “Bryce? Where are you? What—?”

“I'll explain later. I—” A wheeze, then a cough. “You offered to help me. You've probably changed your mind by now, but I . . . I don't know who else to call.”

As he spoke, the initial jolt over hearing from him faded. Bryce calls me in the middle of the night? Asks for help? From a pay phone? With his voice too distorted to recognize?

“You don't sound like yourself,” I said.

“Yeah, I've”—another sniff—“I've got something. A bug.”

“You were fine when I saw you yesterday. And where'd you get this number?”

“I have my cell phone here, but I can't get a signal. They've done something to it—” He paused. “You don't think it's me. Can't blame you.” He swallowed, loudly, as if it hurt. “Okay, umm, last year for your birthday, Sean got you a new saddle. Imported it from Germany. At Christmas you guys went riding in Colorado. You, Adam, Sean, and the guy he was seeing.”

“Why aren't you calling Sean?”

“Because this isn't . . . I don't want . . .” Another swallow. “I can't bring him into this. You're in L.A., right?”

“No, Miami.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit . . .”

“Where are you, Bryce?”

“New Orleans. I guess it's about the same distance. I'm just—” He gave a long, wheezing cough. “I'm confused.”

“You're sick.”

“Yeah. No way can I get on a plane or a bus like this, even if I had money, which I don't. And I shouldn't anyway. You need to come here. See this.”

“See what?”

“Need see it.” He started clipping his sentences, as if full ones took more energy than he had. “Shouldn't come alone. That vampire still with you?”

“Cassandra?” He wanted me to bring Cassandra. A trap. It had to be a trap. “No. But I could get her.”

“Someone else then. Someone—”

“Savannah?” Adam called.

I turned as he walked over. I mouthed, “Bryce.”

“Who's that?” Bryce asked.

“Adam. Wondering where I disappeared to.”

“Oh. Sean said you two weren't . . .” He trailed off. I didn't correct his assumption, just pulled the phone from my ear so Adam could listen in as Bryce continued. “Okay. Adam. The Exustio. That'll work. Okay. Bring Adam or anyone who can watch your back and—”

A soft shout from Bryce's end, a woman's voice, tight with alarm, words indistinguishable. The phone clattered, as if Bryce was hanging up.

The woman's voice came closer. “You're supposed to be in bed, sir.”

“I just wanted to let them know I'm okay. I didn't—”

“You can't be outside. Boys, please take Mr. N back to his room.”

More noises, protests from Bryce, but faint, as if he couldn't summon the energy to fight back. The click of heels on pavement. Then they stopped. The steps came back and the receiver rattled, as if she'd realized it hadn't properly disconnected.

Adam motioned for me to hang up fast. I shook my head and waited.

“Who is this?” the woman said.

“That's my question,” I said. “Who the hell is this? Do you have any idea what time it is? Four in the fucking morning and some drunken moron calls thinking I'm his brother. Do I sound like anyone's brother? Starts babbling about how he's fine and I shouldn't worry. He's not fine. He's so sloshed he can barely speak. He should be in a drunk tank somewhere. If you're a friend of his—”

“I'm not, ma'am. He's a patient and he's unwell.”

“No shit.”

“I'm sorry he disturbed you. Obviously he's confused and had the wrong number and I apologize for any—”

“Whatever. Don't let it happen again.”

I hung up. Then I turned to Adam.

“It's a trap, isn't it?” I said.

“I'm not sure. Come on back to the lounge. I'll make coffee while you explain.”

 

 

I was done with my coffee—and wide awake—by the time I finished the story.

“I don't trust my judgment on this one,” I said. “Not with Bryce.”

Adam took the last slug of his coffee before answering. “I'll admit it sounds like a setup. A really bad, really obvious setup, which makes me think it isn't. Everyone knows you and Bryce aren't on speaking terms. Now he's coming to his estranged little sister, of all people, and asking her to fly to his rescue? As a setup, it sucks.”

“Then that still begs the question. If it's real, why did he call
me
?”

“Because you reached out to him. He's in trouble and you're used to dealing with trouble, and he's sick and confused, and the last thing he remembers is you offering to help him out of this. The guy might deny you're his sister, but apparently he has your number on his cell.”

He headed for the coffeemaker. “That interruption sounded legit. He wasn't cut off in the middle of a dire pronouncement. The woman was careful to call him Mr. N. When the phone was off the hook, no one said Bryce was in danger or said anything designed to make you come running to his rescue. They didn't even tell you where he was.”

He refilled his mug. “He didn't insist you come alone. He didn't insist you bring someone specific. He just wanted you to have backup. That sounds real to me.”

“Okay, so how do I find him?”

“We can locate the pay phone easily enough. Not a lot of them these days. Tracking him from the phone will be the problem.”

“I know a way.”

Two hours later we were on a single-engine four-passenger plane from the Cortez fleet, one Benicio had put aside for our use. Adam and I weren't alone. I'd asked Jeremy to join us. A werewolf's nose would get us from the pay phone to wherever Bryce was being held. Jaime had come, too. That was her idea—she could ask my father to join us when we got there. A ghostly scout was an asset. One who understood Bryce would be even more valuable.

Jeremy had called Paige and explained that Jaime had gotten a lead in New Orleans. When they stopped by headquarters, they found that Adam and I had crashed there overnight. We'd offered to go with them as backup so he didn't need to call in Clay and Elena.

Paige bought it. Like Lucas, Jeremy was an expert liar. It's always the quiet ones you need to watch.

We flew into a small airport where a rental car waited. As we drove into the city, I said to Jeremy, “Okay, so you'll track Bryce's scent from the pay phone to wherever they took him, then you'll wait outside with Jaime while Adam and I break in.”

He gave me a look.

“You're special, remember?”

“Sucks being special,” he said.

Adam lifted his brows, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

I laughed. “Old joke. Luckily, being all grown up, I am no longer special and do not need to stay behind with you, Jeremy. I will, however, order your pizza. Mediterranean, right?”

“You forget that I'm also older, and have an Alpha-elect trained to take my place. Therefore, I'm no longer special either. However, I'll make a note of the fact that you advised me to stay behind, avoiding any fallout with Clayton. I presume that was the point of the suggestion?”

“It was.”

The last time I'd been to New Orleans was a few months after Hurricane Katrina. I'd avoided going back ever since. My mom and I had lived in the Big Easy for a couple of years, and seeing it post-disaster—the devastation and slow recovery—had depressed and infuriated me. Now it was starting to look a little more like its old self.

The address for the pay phone took us to an area that looked as if it hadn't escaped the hurricane's wrath, but wasn't hit hard enough to get much recovery funding. Many buildings were vacant, including the one Bryce's trail led to, a block from the pay phone.

It looked like an old house that had been converted into units, and still showed the bones of an old manor house, despite decades of reconstruction. A NOW LEASED! sign promised new life, but unlike other buildings with similar signs, there was no indication that this one would be ready to open soon. Through a partly boarded window, I could see a lone workman inside. He seemed to be painting, but at the rate he was moving, he wasn't going to be done for a while. I think that was the point.

We'd split up to look less obvious as we scoped out the area. Adam had climbed onto the roof of the neighboring building. I was walking along the street, mingling with strolling office workers, so I didn't stand out, in case anyone was watching from our target building. Jeremy circled the block. And Jaime sat in an open-air café out of harm's way, while my father scouted.

When I was done with my part, I sat with Jaime.

“You know what I need?” I said. “Ghosts. Then I could sit back and let them do the dirty work.”

“Hardly. Ghosts can't get dirty.” She shifted her chair out of the shade and leaned back, light reflecting off her sunglasses. “I'll admit, though, it is nice to order your father around. He's done it to me for years.”

I shook my head and snatched a beignet from her plate. “There's something going on in that place, but they're doing a good job of hiding it. We may have to wait until dark to get in.” I checked my watch. “Which is a very long wait.”

She was about to reply when she looked up suddenly. I turned, saw empty air, and tugged over a chair for my father. Not that he really needed it, but it would be easier for Jaime to talk to him if she wasn't gaping up at the sky.

I ordered a coffee as Jaime listened to my father.

When the server left, Jaime said, “Good news first or bad?”

“Bad.”

“The place is warded. Your dad can't get inside.”

“And there's good news?”

“They haven't warded the whole building. Too much energy to keep the spell up. So we have a good idea where you'll find Bryce. Your dad's narrowed it down to a few rooms, and he's found a way in.”