Charmed & Deadly Page 2

  We finally made it to the Dylan hotel, which is located on the Keizersgracht, one of the city’s most famous canals. It looks like a big mansion on the outside, but it’s modern, chic, and small, making it easier to protect the PM. He’d postponed his meetings for the evening, and for that I was grateful. My energy had been drained and I needed to sleep in order to recharge.

  Usually his security staff stays with him, and I take a room nearby. This time I stayed in one of the extra rooms in the suite. I put protection wards on every door and window and swept the area with my mind. Seeing no immediate threat, I decided to get some rest.

  I walked into my room. It was an explosion of color. Raspberry and cream stripes covered the comforter and canopy. Red lacquered boxes sat at the foot of the bed, and deep, rich mahogany tables sat on either side. A bit Cirque du Soleil for me, but the cushy-looking mattress beckoned me.

  I had to sleep, but something niggled at my brain. You know how when you pack for a long trip and you can’t think of what you might’ve left behind? That’s how it felt. I’d missed something important over the last few hours, but I couldn’t think of what it might be.

  Climbing under the covers, my thoughts floated to Lulu’s fried chicken back home. I’d been traveling with the PM, who has a penchant for grilled chicken and vegetables, for too long. It had been a while since I’d had a real meal and forever since I’d been to Lulu’s café in my hometown of Sweet, Texas.

  I turned my thoughts to home and Dr. Sam. We hadn’t seen much of each other in the past month and I missed him so much. Depending on the time zone difference I’d call him when I woke up.

  Mmmm. The last night we’d been together we’d discovered new ways to enjoy apple pie. My mind wandered back to that sexy night. He’d made me “Bronwyn a la mode.” I snuggled deeper into the pillow and my body relaxed.

  That’s when the thought that had bothered me for hours finally exploded in my head. Damn, if someone hadn’t screwed with my head.

  Two

  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, w
ith 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.

  Three

  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 anywh
ere 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.