Death Wish (3 page)

Chapter Three

I stood in the small upstairs bathroom with a blow dryer in hand. My long blonde hair hung almost to my waist in damp chunks. I pulled a brush through it absently, lost in thought. When my hair was dry enough, I applied a light dusting of dark grey shadow to my eyes.

I gazed at my reflection, searching my blue eyes for someone I recognized.

My eyes were deep brown, or at least they were supposed to be. The undead power coursing through me turned them Arys’s drowning blue again.

The mascara wand shook in my hand as I brushed it over my lashes. I was jittery from the blood hunger and power churning inside me. I took a few deep breaths and focused. Steady.

I wore dark slacks and a tight black shirt, casual and easy to move in. The summer night would be warm, but I brought a knee-length leather jacket to hide the dagger at my waist. I wanted to be ready for anything. If someone was going to take me out, I sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

After a quick trip through the Tim Horton’s drive-thru, I was equipped with an extra-large coffee and the desire to kick some ass. I hit the button to open the sunroof and headed for the highway. I was on my way to see Brogan, Lena’s daughter. She had called because someone had been snooping around her store, asking questions that triggered her suspicions. Naturally, I was curious myself.

Arys had been reluctant to let me go alone. My argument had been that he couldn’t accompany me everywhere. We were going to find out who wanted me dead, but in the meantime, I wasn’t going to hide at home. Besides, I’d be spending the rest of the night with Jez and Kale. I’d be as safe as I could get.

The warm summer breeze ruffled my hair, smelling faintly of rain. It was a gorgeous night. A pale orange streak hovered low over the horizon as the sun’s final light faded. It would be a perfect night to run as wolf.

I usually ran with Shaz and Kylarai, as well as the rest of our local pack, on nights like this. It was as close to pack as we came these days. Several pack members were understandably uneasy with my ties to the vampire world. Considering the danger I was currently in because of it, I couldn’t fault them for that. 

I took Whitemud Drive to the south side of the city where Brogan’s magic shop was located. Since her mother’s recent death, Brogan had taken over the store, a fascinating place called Toil and Trouble. The place went unnoticed if one wasn’t looking for it, but to those who practiced magic or sought magical guidance, it was madly popular.

I pulled into the parking lot a half hour before closing. It was empty other than two cars, one of them being Brogan’s little red Honda.

Toil and Trouble was in a busy part of town. Plenty of people passed by on the street, both on foot and by automobile. I watched them all carefully before getting out of my car. I held my power tight inside, ready to use it.

The Dragon Claw sat on the passenger seat. It was a hell of a weapon to carry in public with its ten-inch blade. I slipped the jacket on and slid the dagger into the sheath hanging from the studded belt slung around my hips.

I exited the car and crossed the small parking lot to the door. I reached out psychically, feeling the environment. A myriad of energies swarmed the area as people passed through. It was heavily human and fragmented, as if very few had lingered. Nothing set off my internal alarm.

Inside, the store was brightly lit, momentarily assaulting my eyes. A chime indicated my arrival. Brogan looked up with a smile from her place behind the counter.

Her dirty blonde ponytail bounced as she waved before turning back to the customer she was helping. My inquisitive gaze roamed over him. Young, late teens or early twenties. He was decked out head-to-toe in Goth attire. The black liner was heavy around his eyes, and spikes adorned his throat and wrists. His dyed black hair was long and disheveled.

I surveyed the rest of the store before stepping up to the counter behind him. Only one other person was inside, an older woman with a clean-cut appearance. Her brown hair was twisted into a bun. With glasses perched on her nose, she thumbed through a book on the far side of the shop.

I waited patiently while Brogan spoke to the guy about his purchases. With another glance at the lady reading, I psychically touched her ever so slightly, sensing what kind of power she had, if any. She didn’t react; she had no idea I was feeling her out. Nothing.

Turning my attention to the Goth guy in front of me, I did the same to him. And, I was stunned. Power didn’t roll off him the way it did with some, but once I reached for it, I couldn’t miss it. He was a natural alright, clearly born with this power. He was pure human, a witch. A potentially dangerous one.

He didn’t seem to suspect that I was psychically analyzing him. Or, if he did, he didn’t let on. He was engrossed in conversation with Brogan. Peeking around him, I tried to get a look at what he was buying without being too obvious.

Brogan was busy wrapping a black glass chalice in bubble wrap. “Are you sure this is the one you want?”

“Yes, that’s the one.” He seemed anxious, like he wanted her to hurry up.

A few crystals lay on the counter, each a different color. Brogan reached to wrap those next. A scrying mirror and an amulet of some kind completed his purchases. It was hard to get a good look at either. Something was carved onto the amulet, but I couldn’t make it out.

“Remember, if you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to call or email.” Brogan beamed a friendly smile at him and received a half-hearted shrug in response.

She met my gaze over his shoulder, and I lifted a brow in question. Only then did he turn to look at me. Fear shone in his eyes as he looked me over. It took me a second to realize that he was reacting to my power.

I imagined I felt dark and deadly. To me, his energy felt human, but it went deeper than that. It tapped into the unseen, the force that made us all so much more than mere physical bodies. I knew my energy hadn’t felt human like that in a long time.

I forced a smile and stepped back, hoping to seem less threatening. He must have thought I was a vampire – I felt like one to everyone else – so I made sure he saw clearly that I wasn’t sporting any fangs. Well, at least not until the wolf came out.

Brogan pushed his change and the bag filled with his things into his hand. Flustered and rushed, he took the bag and shoved away from the counter as if he were afraid I might chase him.

“Have a nice night, Gabriel,” Brogan called after him. The door chime sounded, and he was gone.

“Sorry about that,” I apologized with a grin. “I think I freaked him out.”

Brogan glanced at the woman browsing the bookshelf and lowered her voice. “You feel like you’ve sprung a leak and can’t contain yourself.”

I shrugged and leaned on the counter. “It’s one of those better safe than sorry kind of nights. I’m tapping a little more than necessary tonight.”

 “Understood.” Brogan nodded knowingly. “Let me see what I can do for this lady.”

With a friendly smile pasted onto her face, she slipped out from behind the counter and approached the woman. I lingered where I was, checking out the items stocked near the cash register. I was curious about Gabriel and his intentions with the things he’d bought.

After a few minutes with Brogan, the woman chose a few books and stepped up to the counter. I smiled politely and moved out of her way.

I picked up a crystal from a box near the cash register. Turning it over a few times, I admired its smooth surface. The crystal started to hum, a strange sound I could feel more than hear. I quickly dropped it and rubbed my hands together as if that would remove the strange sensation.

Once Brogan and I were alone in the store, I said, “That kid, Gabriel, how old is he?”

“I’m not sure. Eighteen or so.” Brogan’s hazel eyes narrowed, and she glanced toward the exit where Gabriel had disappeared. “He’s so young but so skilled. I don’t think he has any idea how dangerous that could be.”

“Power makes him a potential victim. Let’s hope he stays off the radar of the real big bads.” I didn’t elaborate. We both knew what that could mean.

Brogan looked worried; her brow creased in a frown. “I do worry about him. I hope he doesn’t do anything to get himself in trouble. He’s a regular here. I try to watch out for him. My mom always believed our abilities should be used for helping others, but she also warned me of how dangerous that could be.” There was a distant look in Brogan’s eyes as she remembered her mother.

 “He’ll be alright.” I was in no position to make such claims. The kid was so young and walking in such a dark world. The last thing he needed was to turn out like me: blood hungry and working for the bad guys.

 My thoughts strayed to Lena. Guilt over how she had died still plagued me. Maybe it wasn’t directly my fault, but someone killed her in an effort to get to me. It was hard to accept.

“Your mother was so good to me. I’ll always be sorry for what happened to her.”

I reached to brush a hand over Brogan’s in a quick gesture of offered comfort. Our skin met briefly, and my power reached out to taste hers, rich and earthy but pure and untainted by the darkness that fed the undead power burning in my own veins.

I pulled away quickly, before I could call her power to me, as I always tended to do with Kale. The urge was there, independent of me. I refused it, forcing it back down inside.

“I’m sorry. I’m kind of running at full capacity tonight. Anyway, you wanted to talk to me about someone?”

“Right.” Brogan turned the sign on the door from open to closed. “There was a woman in here earlier, kind of sketchy. Right away, I got a strange vibe from her. I can’t always tell, but I think she was a werewolf. She was asking questions. Most of them were about you.”

“Me?” Maybe I was going to find the person behind the hit sooner than I’d anticipated. “Tell me about her.”

“She played it cool, browsed around. Started by asking questions about the store, mundane stuff. Once she got me talking, she slipped in a few casual questions about The Wicked Kiss. She wanted to know who owned it. Asked if I knew them. That kind of thing.” Brogan moved about the store, turning off lights and extinguishing scented candles. “I kept my answers short. I could tell she was trying to figure out how much I really knew about you. I told her I didn’t want to talk here but maybe after I closed the store for the night.”

I gazed around the store, thinking over what I’d just heard. The store was so cozy and quaint. Honey-colored hard wood floors created a sense of warmth. It was a relatively small building though it held a lot of items. Glass-topped cases lined one wall, filled with jewelry, amulets and silver daggers. The bookshelf was a large, floor-to-ceiling model stacked with spell books of all kinds. Toil and Trouble stocked everything from herbs to candles to voodoo dolls. The assortment was both impressive and intimidating.

“She arranged to meet with you?”

“Yep.” Brogan produced a business card from her back pocket. “She told me to call this number if I couldn’t make it. Otherwise, I’m meeting her at the Starbucks down the street in an hour. Or, so she thinks.”

The card was white and plain, having only a name and a phone number. Zelda Fitzgerald. It was laughable. Not even a clever attempt at a fake name.

I stared hard at the card. I knew that name, not just because Zelda was F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife. I strained to remember something else, but I couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Brogan, can you tell me what she looked like?” As I stared at the name printed in neat black letters on the card, I was swept back in time. I did know one person who had taken an interest in the Fitzgeralds. Just one. And, she was dead.

“Tall with long, curly hair. Brunette. I think her eyes were dark. Jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing that especially caught my eye.” Brogan’s ponytail fell over her shoulder as she inclined her head, studying me. “Do you know who she is?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so.” I shook my head, unable to believe what the borrowed name on the card told me. It was impossible; it had to be. “So, I guess she’ll be surprised when I show up in your place.”

“That’s the plan.”

I held up the card. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” With a bright smile, Brogan nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I’m always here to help.”

I forced myself to smile, hoping she wouldn’t see the shadows in my eyes. “You got it.”

My exit was hasty. The card in my hand held the faintest trace of energy. It was so miniscule I could barely feel it. It taunted me. She had touched it. Zelda Fitzgerald. I knew who she was, knew it with every part of me, despite the odds being stacked so strongly against the possibility.

The Great Gatsby
was part of the school curriculum. To me it had been a bore, even more so when the teacher made us watch the movie version as well. But for some, it had sparked an interest in the Roaring Twenties and those who made the era what it was.

One person in particular had developed a fascination with that time that had existed so long before she did. Someone who had the soul of one far older than her teen years. Someone who had died the night Raoul attacked my family.