Witch Upon a Star (A Midnight Magic Mystery) (22 page)

“Mrs. West,” he says with a seductive smirk, walking toward me, “compared to you, I’m a troll in a cave.” He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against him. “You are the foxiest bitch I have ever laid eyes on.”

I drape my arms over his shoulders. “And you are quite the smooth
talker there, Shaft.”

“Worked for me earlier. Can’t blame a guy for trying for round
two.” He kisses me deeply. “You do grow more beautiful with ever
y passing day, you know.”

“Really? You prefer me
now
more than when I was nineteen?”

“Annie, when you were nineteen, I didn’t want to sleep with you, I wanted to feed you a damn sandwich.” My eyes narrow. “Okay, maybe I wanted to sleep with you a
little
.”

“And when I’m ninety and all wrinkles and sag?”

“I will be chasing you around our couch with my walker.”

That sentiment earns him another kiss. “You really are the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that, right? I love you. I love you so much. So damn much. And thank you. Thank you for our children. Thank you for our life. And I am
so
sorry this is happening to you because of me.”

He strokes my hair. “This isn’t your fault, Annie. It’s his and his alone. And we will find him, and we will make sure he never,
ever
comes near us again.”

With another smile, and another peck, I extract myself from my husband’s loving arms. “Well, he isn’t in this room, and it took me almost an hour to do my hair and make-up, so the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can come back here and you can ruin it.”

“I love it when you take charge like this.” He even growls.

Oh, I adore my goofball husband.

After a few touchups for us both—how do his glasses get so smudged?—we’re out the door. Most days we’re asleep by ten thirty, but a vampire party doesn’t start until at least eleven. Thank goodness for the six-hour time difference. The entrance of Blue Heaven is tucked away down a narrow alley in Whitechapel, not one of the nicest neighborhoods in London. Prostitutes and drug dealers inhabit half the ancient streets. We almost walk right by the alley even though the cab drops us at the exact address. If not for the couple laughing and stumbling down said alley, I wouldn’t think to venture down there. When we do we find a staircase down to a door. It isn’t until I reach the bottom step I see the club’s name painted on the brick wall.
Merde.
This place must cater more to vampires than humans. There are no innocent eyes keeping the monsters in check. Nathan and I exchange a worried glance before, with a sigh, I open the door.

The club is more of a lounge with low music playing through the medium-sized space, about the size of a boutique, filled with couches, a small bar and dance floor with blue lights providing the only illumination. The copper reek of blood instantly assails my nostrils. Oh, that takes me back, and not in a good way. We’re barely through the door and I already want to leave. This is one step down Memory Lane I wish we could avoid. No such luck. As we hang our coats, I notice the vampires on the nearby couch are getting quite the naked workout. I suppress a shudder. I will not be sitting on anything in here without a Hazmat suit that is for certain. The bouncer, a bull of a man with muscles atop muscles and head shaved bald, stands in front of a velvet rope blocking the rest of the entrance.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a Cockney accent, “this is a private club. Members only.”

“Anna Asher. Official consort of elder vampire John Asher, and guest.” The bouncer’s eyes widen in shock. I cock an eyebrow. “Heard of me, have you? I’m honored.”

“He isn’t here.”

“Good. I’m not here to meet him. Now, may we pass or do I need to remind you of the laws of consortship? My one guest, a former United States F.R.E.A.K.S. Special Agent and I have every right to enter any and all public spaces where vampiric activity occurs.”

The bouncer’s face contorts as if he’s smelled dung, but he removes the rope. “Welcome to Blue Heaven, Consort Asher. Enjoy yourself.”

“I will. Thank you,” I say with a cheeky grin. Taking Nathan’s hand, I walk straight to the bar. Thank goodness that worked. Plan B was to wait outside in the cold and flirt with vampires until
one agreed to sponsor our entry.

“Welcome to Blue Heaven,” says the buxom bartender. Even in the dim light, I can see the bruises on her neck and wrists from vampire bites. Guess she’s on the drink menu too. “What can I get you?”

“Two ginger ales please,” Nathan says.

“Oh, I love your accent,” she says as she pours. “I adore Americans. Your first time in London?”

“I used to live here,” I say. “We’re actually supposed to meet an old friend of mine. George Byron. Is he here yet? We’re a bit early.”

“Oh, no, he’s here,” she says, nodding toward the far corner where one man straddles another, kissing and fondling with abandon. Compared to the couple one couch down, this is positively PG-13.

I look to Nathan. “What do you think? Tampa or Wyoming?”

Nathan considers it. He was in the F.R.E.A.K.S. longer than me. I defer to his strategic experience. “Wyoming. He is a poet, not some crazed werewolf. No need for the big guns.”

“Then see you in a sec.” After a wink to my partner, I saunter over to our distracted quarry. Oh, I am
very
much going to enjoy this. “Room for one more?”

The men call their tonsil hockey game to gaze up at my smirking face. Byron returns the gesture, but not his partner, who is fourteen if he’s a day. Not a fan of competition, I guess. I meet Byron’s eyes for a moment while licking my lips. Byron’s grin grows when I nibble the lower one. “The more the merrier, I always say.”

The boy climbs off the vampire, shooting me the glare of death, as I take his place on Byron’s lap. It’s probably as hygienic as the couch. The bastard’s smile grows as I snake my arm around his neck. “Hi,” I say huskily.

“Hello,” he replies, sliding his hand up my thigh. “An American, are you?”

“Yes.” I cross my legs. “And I came all the way here for
you
, your lordship.”

“You’re a Lord?” the boy asks.

“Don’t you know you’re in the presence of greatness, young one?” I ask the boy.

“Well, he shall learn that soon enough, pet,” Byron says, placing his other hand on the boy’s crotch. “You have me at a loss, though. Have we met before?”

“Now you’ve hurt my feelings, George,” I say with a pout. “Going to have to make you pay for that. I’ll give you a hint, though.” I lean in and whisper, “You ruined David Bowie for me, asshole.”

As I sit up, the vampire’s eyes narrow on my steely face until it comes to him. “You.”

“Me. All grown up. Surprise.”

Nathan, who’s been listening from a nearby table, takes his cue to pounce. “Mind if I join the party?” he asks, plopping beside the boy on the sofa.

“Lord Byron, my husband Nathan. Nathan, this is Lord Byron. You remember, I told you about him? The man who tried to fuck me when I was thirteen and drunk out of my mind? Sweetie, you used to be a Special Agent, isn’t that considered attempted rape, even under vampiric law?”

“Alright, you have made your point,” Byron says.

Nathan turns to the boy. “And how old are you, son? How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Stop it,” Byron orders. “Let him alone. Kevin, please go wait for me at the bar. I shall join you in a moment.”

The boy eagerly obeys. Nathan scoots closer to Byron as I climb off his lap to flank the vampire as well. “Still like ’em fetal, I see,” I say.

“What exactly do you want, Miss Asher and … friend? Come to seek your revenge? I hear you are a vengeful little bitch when crossed. Is it my turn to be burned alive?”

“Tempting, but actually, I’m here to ask for your help.”

The vampire harrumphs. “You are joking. Or mad. Why on earth would I help you?”

“Because we’re two kindred, vengeful souls? I heard what Asher did to you. Beating you. Humiliating you. Blacklisting you from society. In a way, you’re lucky. He butchered people for less than what you did to me.”

“He could just be biding his time,” Nathan adds.

“And goodness knows what he’ll do if, when he and I do come face-to-face, I tell him about that time you tracked me down at boarding school. Oh, it was horrific how you all but forced yourself on poor, depressed, desperate, vulnerable me in retaliation for the two beatings he gave you.”

“I can’t imagine he’ll take that news well,” says Nathan.

“He would never believe that,” Byron counters.

“‘Oh, Asher,’ I begin, voice cracking, “‘I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to think any less of me. I just missed you so, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It … it hurt so much.’” My expression becomes neutral. “And that’s just off the top of my head. He hates your guts already, it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. And if I’ve lost everything that matters in my life already, why the hell would I give a damn about yours?” I lean back. “Or you can help me find him before he finds us, and your name never escapes my lips again.”

“Or perhaps I can provide further incentive,” Nathan says. He holds up his hands and bursts of electricity crackle between them, lighting up the darkness. My husband, the human Tesla coil.

“Alright, stop. Both of you,” Byron says. “Your threats grow tedious. Asher is no friend of mine. I shall tell you what I know, which is precious little. Though I personally did not lay eyes on him, I heard he was in London a few days past, but has since fled to destinations unknown. He and his shenanigans are the talk of Europe, though. Rumors swirl like snow in a cold winter’s night. He’s in Africa, Vienna, Berlin, Paris, all of the above. Pick a location. You know the bastard better than I.”

“Well, who would know? Besides Richard, who were his friends?
Who would he trust?” I ask. “Tobias?”

“Tobias is in Stockholm, and they were mere acquaintances,” Byron says. “If anyone aided Asher, it would be Richard. They were mercenaries together through two wars. Brothers in arms until the bitter end. But though he would help your lover, I very much doubt he would help
you
.”

“What about Alain?” Nathan asks. “Any idea where we can find
him?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. He owns a theater and several boutiques in Monte Carlo. Has for decades.”

“What’s the name of the theater?” Nathan asks.

“
Le Theatre de Rosa.
He is even known to act in several productions. He is quite good.”

“And he’s in Monte Carlo now?” I ask.

“I assume so. I am not his keeper.”

“And there’s nothing, no one, anything else you can tell us?”

“Well, I did hear you are not the only comely female in search of Mr. Asher. Dear, psychotic Christine was asking similar questions a few months past, but I, like everyone else, assumed him dead. Still he must be quite the lover to have two such beautiful creatures chasing after him.”

Nathan’s jaw tightens. “Any idea where
she
is?”

“Most likely a pace behind Asher now. From what I have heard, she has always trailed after him like a lost puppy. Pathetic. But last I heard, she was in Vienna. Of course the majority of our lot are. The Vienna Opera Ball is in a few days. Even I am attending. Now, I have told you all I can. Please leave me be.”

I glance at Nathan, who nods. We’re done here. It isn’t as much as I’d hoped, but it’ll have to do. Nathan and I stand. “Good to see you again, Lord Byron.”

“Yes, may it never happen again,” he says with a smile.

I blow the bastard a kiss before following Nathan toward the door. “Well, that was easier—” The sight of the familiar tall man waiting with the bouncer by the exit cuts my premature statement short. “
Merde
.”

“What?” Nathan asks.

Lord Richard never takes his eyes off me as he glides toward us, handsome face a mask of polite neutrality. It can’t fool me. Oh, I really hoped to avoid him, at least until we had proof he aided and abetted Asher to use as leverage to get him to talk. We could be in real trouble here. Nathan senses it too as he moves shoulder-to-shoulder against me and cups his hand in case action is required.

“Consort Asher,” Lord Richard says, holding out his hand.

Courtesy dictates I kiss his ring or curtsey to show my respect.
Supplication is more accurate. Still, I perform my duty, with a smile
even. “Your lordship.”

“I had to see it with mine own eyes,” Richard says. “Little Anna Asher, all grown. And still as beautiful as ever.”

“You are too kind, sir. And may I present my husband, former Special Agent with the F.R.E.A.K.S. of America, Nathan West.”

“Howdy,” Nathan says with a scowl.

Richard barely gives him a glimpse. “Yes, I had heard you took a husband,” he says with a fake smile.

“I’m sure you have,” I say, matching his expression.

Both our pleasant masks drop in unison until only scowls remain. “You are either mad or idiotic for setting foot in my city, let alone my club, madam.”

“No, just desperate.”

“Quite a bit of that in the air,” Richard says. “Shall we continue this little reunion in my office?” He glances at Nathan. “Alone.”

“No way,” says my husband.

“It’s fine, Nathan,” I say. We’re really not in a position to negotiate. Since we’re not here in an official law enforcement capacity, and I am forever bound by vampiric law, any act of aggression against a lord gives him the right to kill us here and now. “We’re old friends, right?”

“Among other labels. Shall we?” he asks, gesturing toward the back.

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper as I squeeze Nathan’s arm. I hope. Richard leads me past more copulating couples to his office. “Nice place you got here,” I say with a grimace.

“Asher never took you to a club such as this?”

“No, he did,” I say with displeasure. “I just choose to repress those memories, thank you very much.”

Richard opens the office door to let me pass. “Ashamed?”

“More than words can express.”