Charmed & Deadly Page 8

  I’m no troll, but you wouldn’t know it when it comes to the PM. Whatever. Well, it would be whatever, except now he can’t meet my eyes. When he talks to me he either looks over my left shoulder or stares down at some files.

  Was I so horrendous that the memory has been burned into his brain?

  God. Why do I care? He’s like, the stuffiest man on the planet. Probably hasn’t a seen a real naked woman in years. I think he had the hots for someone on his security staff a while back, but she turned out to be a spy who wanted to kill him, so it didn’t work out.

  I’m looking forward to tonight. It’s Zoë’s birthday, and I know we’re going to have a blast. She’s going to be a powerful witch one day. Her parents were killed in a tragic accident and now Zane’s her caregiver. She’s been on tour with him, but she wanted to come back to London for her birthday and for school.

  It will be good to see Zane, too. He’s a terrible flirt, but he always makes me feel good. It will be nice to hang out with someone who doesn’t think I’m a total troll.

  Eleven

  London

  Wednesday

  4 p.m.

  Partying witches with rockin’ new outfits and wicked

  fine shoes: 1

  Hunky, hot boyfriends: 1

  W hen you are hanging out with one of the most popular rock stars in the world, you kind of have to go with the flow. This is something I’ve learned in the last few months after becoming friends with Zane.

  After the meetings this morning, I had a chance to catch a quick nap. It’s a good thing. Hanging out with Zane is tiring enough, but when you throw his precocious niece, Zoë, in the game, it’s even wackier.

  My lovely nap was interrupted by the latter’s tiny voice.

  “Bronwitch, wake up.” She stood beside the bed dressed in the cutest red jumper and white blouse. Her black hair had been trimmed into a bob, and her bright, cornflower blue eyes were as big as ever.

  “Well, hello there, Miss Zoë.” I sat up in bed and stretched. “I thought we were having dinner tonight. Did I oversleep?”

  Lifting two shopping bags, she put them on the side of the bed. “Uncle Zane says everyone gets presents today.”

  I touched her cheek. I’m not overly fond of children, but this one had found a place in my heart a few months ago when Zane had been worried about her safety.

  She smiled. “Your presents are in the bag. I helped pick them out.”

  I made a funny fish-mouth and wiggled my eyebrows. “Is it a red jumper like yours? I really like it.”

  She shook her head.

  “Is it a giant jar of Gummi Bears? I could use something sweet.”

  She laughed. “No, but tonight we are going to have the biggest cake my brain can imagine. That’s what Uncle said. And candy and cookies, and we can eat all of it.”

  Someone will need a trip to the dentist when this night is over. I was glad I wouldn’t be the one peeling her off the ceiling. Poor Nanny Bee probably would have that job. “That sounds soooo good. I’m starving.”

  “Mr. Cook says he’ll bring in tea when I ring, but I want you to open your presents first.” She was hopping from foot to foot in excitement.

  I made a big show of opening the first bag slowly. It was from one of my favorite stores here in London, Maxi’s. It’s a funky place with designer clothes from all over the world.

  Zoë helped pull the item out of the bag. “I helped Uncle pick it out.” She put it on my lap.

  I opened the paper and found a delightful dress in red, green, yellow, and white. The wild patterns of the colors were dizzying to the eye. It was a tango-style dress with a ruffled bottom and halter neckline. I loved it on sight.

  “Oh, Zoë, it’s beautiful. Thank you, honey.” I reached over to hug her, and she squeezed me back. She smelled like cotton candy and baby powder, and it was hard for me to let go.

  Then she crawled up on the bed beside me, sitting on her knees. “Open the shoes. Oops.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I ruined the surprise.”

  I waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. Shoes?” I wiggled my eyebrows again. “You know how much I love shoes.” We opened the bag and found a pair of four-inch red jeweled Rene Caovilla appliqué sandals that matched the red in the dress perfectly. I’d seen them at Bergdorf’s a month or so ago, but I just couldn’t justify that kind of purchase at the time.

  I whistled. “These are amazing.”

  She clapped her hands. “I saw them and then we went to find the dress to match. I chose well, didn’t I, Bronwitch?”

  I kissed her rosy cheek. “Yes, you did perfectly. You have really good taste in shoes. Hey, wait a minute.”

  “What?” She crawled across me to sit on the other side.

  I touched her nose with my finger. “I thought it was your birthday, not mine.”

  “It is my birthday, silly!” She giggled. “But Uncle Zane says you need serious wardrobe help and we have to do what we can.”

  I laughed out loud. “Oh, really?” Toad. My wardrobe was just fine, thank you. “Where is your uncle?”

  “Talking to Uncle Matt about business stuff.” She shrugged. “It was boring, so I snuck out with your bags. May we have tea now?”

  I scrunched up my nose and pretended to think on it a bit. “Yes. I know how much you love to call Cook, so you do that, and I’ll go change. Tell him we’ll come down to the kitchen.” I patted her head and ran for the bathroom.

  Before my nap I’d changed into a big Paul Frank T-shirt sporting Julius the Monkey. Sam gave it to me months ago. I threw some water on my face and thought about him.

  I didn’t try to find him, but I sent him a mental message just in case he didn’t have me blocked. “I love you.” I sighed. Then I heard him in my head. “I love you, too.”

  I jumped in excitement. I sent my mind out to him again. “I’ve been trying to call, is everything okay?”

  “We’re good, it’s much worse though than we thought. The children—well, it’s bad. We’re in the jungle, and the phones don’t work. I miss you, baby, more than you know. Every time I close my eyes I dream of you. Damn. I’ve gotta go. Love, love, love you.” He put up his shields.

  I sighed. Sam. Lord, my body ached for the man.

  I stared into the mirror. My cheeks were pink. Thinking about him did get the blood to flowing.

  Zoë knocked on the door. “Tea’s ready, Bronwitch. Cook says to come downstairs.”

  I laughed. Impatient little magpie.

  “You go on down and check out the treats, just don’t eat them all before I get there.”

  She giggled. I had a feeling the only thing left would be the watercress sandwiches.

  I freshened my makeup and added a little kohl liner around my eyes and a red lipstick to match the dress. I slipped it on and the silky material was marvey against my skin. It fit perfectly. I swear, Zane has a talent for knowing a woman’s size. Sheik Azir does, too. Must be a talent of the wealthy and powerful.

  Thankfully, my toes were pedi-perfect. I slipped on the Rene Caovillas. They would kill my calves by the end of the night, but they were the most beautiful shoes I’d ever seen.

  I did a quick fluff of the hair and called it all good.

  Downstairs, Zoë was sitting at the granite breakfast bar doing serious damage to a cream puff.

  She pointed to the door leading to the PM’s offices. “They need to talk to you,” she said with her mouth full. If it hadn’t been her birthday, I might have said something.

  I grabbed the remaining cream puff and gave her a little wave. “Be back in a sec.”

  I knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  The PM was in a bad mood. I could tell from his tone.

  I opened the door.

  Zane and the PM were fuming. The world’s most popular rock star and the British prime minister are related. Most of the time they get along fine, but not always.

  Zane sat in a chair, wearing a vintage Pucci shirt and ripped jeans. His bl
ond curls had grown out and he looked as sexy as ever. Arms crossed, he was in serious pout mode.

  Great. What now?

  Midnight

  Dead Guys: 1

  Men can be so utterly ridiculous.

  The PM and Zane were at odds over a kitten. Really. The prime minister had bought Zoë a kitten, a cute little black-and-white, mewling piece of fluff.

  Zane didn’t want him to give it to her. Took me a few minutes to figure out what was going on. The rock star was worried the diplomat’s simple gift would trump everything he’d planned for Zoë.

  They were bickering back and forth.

  I held up a hand in a “stop motion” that was Supremes-worthy. “You two are being idiots.” They both looked at me, and the PM quickly averted his eyes.

  God, he’s lucky I didn’t blow him up right then.

  “First of all,” I said, pointing to the PM, “get over it. You saw me naked. It’s not a big deal.”

  The PM blanched.

  Before he could speak, I pointed at Zane. “You stop being an asshole. Zoë will love a kitten, but she’ll also love the multitude of gifts you have planned. If, at the end of the night you don’t feel you have her full adoration, you can try to buy her off with a new pony. One with pretty pink bows or something.”

  Zane became thoughtful, and I could see the wheels turning. The man was ridiculous. It would be a sure bet that a pony would be the highlight of Zoë’s birthday.

  “Now both of you get it together. This is her night, her first birthday without her parents. We will make it magical, special, and a party she will never forget. Understood?”

  They both nodded.

  “Okay. I’m going to go get the birthday girl ready.” I turned my glare to Zane. “I assume you’ve bought her something fab to wear? And by the way, thank you for my outfit.”

  “Looks bloody brilliant on you.” Zane smiled.

  I rolled my eyes. “Where’s Zoë’s party outfit?”

  “It’s in the car, I’ll have Jonathan go get it.”

  “Fine. Where are Nanny Bee and Georgette?” The latter was Zane’s personal assistant. She was the only woman I’d met who could keep him on track.

  “They’re getting the restaurant ready for the party.”

  “Okay.” I walked toward the door. “You two behave.”

  As I walked out I heard Zane say, “You saw her naked? Lucky bastard.” I laughed. God bless Zane. He made my night.

  A half hour later, I had Zoë’s hair combed to a shine, complete with a tiny tiara. “I want to look like a fairy princess.” Her voice was a soft whisper. We stood at the sink in one of the downstairs bathrooms.

  The dress she picked out was a beautiful sapphire blue color with tiny silver appliqué flowers on the long sleeves and on the trim of the neck and skirt.

  “You are most definitely princess material, pretty girl.” Carefully placing the comb in her hair, I made certain her tiara was snug.

  That smile of hers would knock the socks off the boys someday and it even makes my grumpy heart do flips. She turned and squeezed me tight.

  “I wish you could be my new mommy, but Uncle Zane says you have a boy already. And that you really love me, but he’s not really the settling-down type.”

  I coughed. “Well, yes. He’s right. I do have a boy already that I love.” Sam probably wouldn’t like being called a “boy,” but he was definitely mine. “But thank you. I hope if I ever have a little girl she’s as wonderful as you. Now, let’s go find those guys and get to your party.”

  That made her squeal.

  We were headed out the back of the PM’s residence when I felt it; a magical presence.

  “Get her in the car and go!” I didn’t want to scare Zoë, so I whispered the order in the PM’s ear. “Now.”

  He all but shoved Zane and Zoë in the car and they took off.

  Protecting myself with a shield, I waited. Over the past few months I’ve learned how to triple my protection shields and now they can hold up to massive attacks.

  Two warlocks came down the alley. “You are not welcome, witch.” The taller of the two men raised his hands.

  Oh, boy. This is going to be a blast. I’d been itching for a fight since I arrived. If these two idiots wanted to play, who was I to argue?

  “See, now, I think you have your facts wrong. I’m welcome here. You, on the other hand, were not invited.” I shrugged. “So from where I stand, it’s you who are not welcome.”

  The fat one reminded me of someone I’d met once. Oh my god. “Sphere? Is that you?” I’d met the little basketball of a warlock months ago in Brussels. When the poop hit the fan during one of the summits, he’d vanished from the scene of the crime. Turned out the other warlock in Brussels had been the culprit and I’d forgotten all about the pudgy and often annoying warlock.

  I could tell he didn’t recognize me at first, but when he did, it was something straight out of a Laurel and Hardy movie. “Ahhhh!” Sphere shrieked and ran away as fast as his chubby legs would carry him. I’d have to deal with him later.

  “I suggest you follow your friend.” I did that brushy wave thing people do when they want you to go away.

  The warlock stood his ground. Moron. Totally deserved to die. “Are you at least going to tell me why you are here?” As I said the words I wondered if I should just go ahead and kill him. I didn’t want him throwing something that might mess up my new dress and shoes.

  I could feel some power in him but he had no idea what he was up against. The idiot forgot the first law of magical war: “Know thy opponent.” The second law is: “If the other guy is stronger—run.” Okay, so I made that one up, but it makes sense.

  This guy obviously didn’t have any—sense, that is. He didn’t bother to explain anything. Throwing out his hands, he tossed a big ball of fire, which I promptly caught and played with in the air.

  I sent my mind into his. “You know the little fat guy who ran away? Well, he’s seen firsthand what a high witch like me can do.”

  Struggling mentally, he tried to put up his shields. I could see the stress of trying to push me out of his head as it wrinkled his brow.

  Tossing the fireball up in the air, I made it disappear. “This is your last warning, asshole. I have somewhere to be, and I’m really not in the mood to play games with you tonight.”

  When he didn’t move, I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. Using my forefinger in a figure eight pattern, I threw a binding spell at him and wrapped it around his ankles. He’d already begun spewing a spell.

  I stomped my foot without thinking. The earth shook. That’s one of my newer powers and I forget all the time.

  With his body bound, he teetered to the right, then the left, and fell to the ground. His brain splattered all over the drive.

  Damn. I hadn’t really meant to kill him.

  I picked up my beaded evening bag where I’d left it in the driveway, called the spook squad on my cell phone, and explained what happened. They were there in less than five minutes and took care of the mess, promising to find Sphere for questioning.

  The PM sent his driver to pick me up and I made it just in time to see Zoë blow out the candles on a cake that took two tables to hold. It had been made into a chocolate castle.

  The presents were in a mountain behind her. I didn’t see a pony, but there was a four-story dollhouse courtesy of Sheik Azir. The rest of the presents would make any toy store envious.

  Any other child might turn into a spoiled brat, but that would never happen to Zoë. She was someone special.

  “Bronwitch. Look at my cake.” She waved her hands over the cake, and I worried she might topple into it.

  I winked at her. “It is the biggest cake I’ve ever seen. Do you think it will taste good?”

  She stuck a finger into the icing and put it in her mouth. “Mmmmm.”

  “Well, I guess that answers that.”

  The PM and Zane gave me looks, as if to ask if everything was okay. I nodded t
hat it was and tried to enjoy the party.

  But all night I kept wondering what Sphere and the other warlock had been up to. Were they after the PM, Zane, or me?

  Twelve

  Paris

  Friday

  Midnight

  Witches on the hunt: 1

  A h, Paris. The Eiffel tower, Christian Lacroix, cabaret music, and slimy worm warlocks—there’s so much here for a girl to see and do.

  There are witches who hunt for a living. They track down nasty, evil, magical beings and kill them. Me? All I have to do is stand around and the bad dudes show up to kill me. It’s been that way ever since I came into my powers at seventeen.

  After the altercation with Sphere and his dead buddy, I had Cole investigate the warlock. That’s how we ended up in Paris—Sphere came back here to the protection of his coven.

  Fat lotta good that did him.

  Cole discovered there are three hits out on me right now. That’s nothing new. In fact, I was beginning to feel unpopular the last few weeks because Jason seemed to be the only one wanting to kill me. The last five years of my life have been dedicated to ridding the world of evil magic dudes and dudettes, and I’ve made a few enemies along the way.

  One of the hits is courtesy of Jason, I’m certain. Seems he’s vanished from his psychiatric prison and is God knows where.

  The other two, well I haven’t a clue. Honestly, someone is always trying to kill me. It’s just a part of life. But I hadn’t pissed anyone off in a while, so I was really curious who it was this time.

  “We’re working on it, Bron.” Cole tried to reassure me. We were staying at the Hotel Meurice. The two suites we occupied looked like something from Versailles. A bit too over the top for me, decorated in blue and gold with lots of silk, but who am I to complain? They do treat Americans with civility, which I appreciate. Of course, it could just be because I’m hanging out with Zane.

  The rock star insisted on coming with us, and he always stays here. The staff is discreet and doesn’t seem to mind that we have people coming and going at all hours of the night.

  Tonight we all had dinner downstairs. The dining room has a beautiful dome ceiling, very elegant, and unfortunately, very open.