Witch Upon a Star (A Midnight Magic Mystery) (25 page)

He stares ahead too, deafeningly, oppressively silent but after a few seconds says, “I wish I could tell you my actions were solely charitable or even partially.” He shakes his head. “I do not know how much you are aware of my tumultuous history with our Asher. More downs than ups, but in our way I suppose we did love one another. Perhaps even respected each other. We have committed many atrocities against one another but always found a way to move past. Until, like you, he went a step too far. He turned my Oliver against me. One night a century of petty resentments built up, exploding out with my sire not only fanning the flames but siding with Oliver at every turn, simply because I refused to stay in the Americas with them. Because I chose to leave him, my sire, youngling and I all but killed one another. I have not seen nor spoken to my youngling, my blood since. To this very day he loathes me. So when I saw an opportunity to sow the seeds of discord with the person my sire adored, to draw even a sliver of blood in that bastard, I leapt at the chance. I did not care one whit what it would mean for you. Nor did your well-being factor into my decision to inform Christine that Asher would be in attendance at the opera ball.”

“
You
brought her there?”

“It
was
inevitable she would resurface, I simply hastened the reunion. I did wish to give you a fighting chance though, hence my warning. But I am sorry. Truly.”

The knot in my gut twisted with this revelation. I suppress the urge to slap his face, instead balling my hand into a fist.
Calm down, Anna. We still need him.
“Then make it up to me now. Rectify some of the turmoil you’ve caused. Help me. You know him better than almost anyone. You have the same circle of friends. You can ask around, put out feelers. You said it yourself, there have been rumors. You feed them to us; we chase them down.”

“And why would I do that? What would I receive out of this interaction besides the label of turncoat?”

“The knowledge of a good deed done?”

Alain scoffs.

“Okay, how about a pound of flesh? You and I both know I am the only one who’ll be able to get close enough to extract it? Hell, you want one? I promise you three. Plus I’ll even put in a good word with Oliver for you. When this is all over, on my children’s lives, I will sing your praises to him. Tell him you only agreed to help me so you could avenge Asher’s crimes against him. Maybe that will help begin healing your relationship, I don’t know, but it’s a chance you should take. What’s more important than our family, Alain? So if not for me, and not for yourself, do it for your youngling. Show him you’re willing to risk your reputation to garner him some damn justice and in the process get your own. But I need to find him first, and I cannot do it without you. So for yourself, for your child,
help me
.”

Alain studies me, eyes slowly narrowing in time to the corners of his mouth rising into a grin. “I see Asher taught you the art of manipulation.”

“No, he doesn’t get credit for that. If anything
I
taught
him
a thing or two.”

“I do not doubt it, Mrs. West.” His smile falters as slowly as it rose. “Rumors have placed him from Paris to Cape Town to Minsk,
none credible.”

“Who else would help him like Richard did?”

“With the amount of pressure and scrutiny law enforcement is placing on our community? Only Christine. She has been searching for him for a decade. He might just now be desperate enough to run straight into her arms.”

“So where is
she
?”

“Most likely where everyone else is: Vienna. The ball is in three days.”

“No, she’s crazy but not that crazy. She’s still a wanted fugitive for Goodnight.”

“That has not stopped her from attending these three years past. The Goodnight Coven is respected, but their reach does not extend to the European vampire community. There is no, what do you call it, co-op among our communities here. As long as she refrains from causing ripples to the world at large, she is free to rejoin our society. It helps that she is so … generous with her favors to all members of our clique.”

“Meaning she pays for protection in the bedroom.” I pause. “But just because she’s there, doesn’t mean he’ll attend.”

“He will if given the proper incentive.”

“Like …”

Alain’s lips purse in disapproval. “You, silly girl.
You
. He has been searching for you far longer than you have him. Whatever desperation, whatever hunger you are experiencing, Mrs. West, multiply it by ten years. With a few phone calls, the whole of Europe could know you and your inconvenient husband shall be attending the ball to locate willing friends to aid in your endeavor. He will know the exact spot, the exact time of where you will be. If the tables were turned, would you pass up that chance?” he asks, right eyebrow raised.

I recognize his plan for what it was: an act of desperation. A trap with me as bait. In truth, we don’t have the financial resources or just plain time to trace Asher beyond the end of the week. We have lives. The boys have already missed so much school, and Nathan too much work. They’ve given enough of their lives to my previous dysfunction. And money. Our savings is all but dried up. This was it. The best, worst plan.

He would be there. As soon as Alain said the words, I knew this was the course of action required. The
only
course of action. I’d be the sacrificial lamb tied to the gilded stake in hopes the predator would strike. And he would.

He had to.

“Okay. I’m in.”

“Then the curtain rises.” Alain smirks. “I do love a good drama. Especially the tragedies.”

I feel like crying already.

vienna, austria

I never thought I’d
see this place again. I never
wanted
to see this place again. At least I don’t resemble a walking corpse this time. However, the night
is
young.

The Vienna Opera House is far grander than I remembered. The whole of Vienna is beautiful, with its baroque castles and gardens amid the low stone and brick buildings older than the whole of America, ensconced along the tranquil blue Danube River. We had time, since arriving this morning, to explore the City of Music. The immense Hofburg Palace, the golden monument of Johann Strauss, the cathedrals with their cherubs and gargoyles keeping watch—they are far lovelier in the daylight. Strolling along the Danube’s banks hand in hand with my husband was a brief oasis in our otherwise hectic trip. For those three hours we just walked and explored, all our troubles could not touch us. There was no strategizing, no worry, nothing but Mr. and Mrs. West and the majesty of Vienna.

Right now that stroll seems like a lifetime ago, not hours. No room for tranquility now. The moment we stepped into this House, we entered a snake pit. There are precious few who don’t desire to sink their fangs into us. Literally. Job well done, Alain.

He was correct in his assessment. A few well-placed phone calls, and by the next night not only did we have tickets to the hottest party in Europe, but according to our patron there wasn’t a vampire on two continents who didn’t know the Wests would be at the ball in an attempt to gain an audience with Lord Augustus. He even arranged a discount on Nathan’s tux. If I ever have another son, I know what we’re naming him.

As my dapper husband and I stroll through the opulent foyer with the murals of angels watching over us on the walls and ceilings, I notice more than a few incredibly pale people staring, then whispering to their companions. We are quite a fetching pair. As always, Nathan stands a head above everyone, and with his brown hair slicked to the side and contacts in he hasn’t looked this handsome since our wedding. I’m no slouch myself tonight. I’d remembered a gown in
Vogue
from a few months ago, and somehow Alain tracked it down. A lovely surprise when we checked into the hotel this morning. Fits like a glove. A bright red satin sleeveless ball gown with a rose embroidered in black crystals on the full skirt. I’m even sporting the same lipstick shade Asher always insisted I wear. The boys no longer have college funds so this had better damn well work.

Come and get me, you bastard.

He is here. I can sense it, sense him, like ripples on the air that only certain animals register. Whatever our connection, faint as it may be now, it still exists, and it’s tingling now. I scan the foyer, locking on every male Asher’s height and weight, but no luck yet. Nathan performs the same task. There are so many people here, five thousand to be exact, it’s hard to examine them all and who knows how much his appearance has changed. He is in hiding after all.

Perhaps we should have brought in the authorities, or even let Dr. Black know where we were as Nathan insisted. My husband found himself outvoted. It was two against one as Alain and I dismissed the idea. Lord Augustus is well connected, word of their law enforcement involvement would more than likely reach him. That was absolutely not a chance we could take, full stop. If this plan should fail, the only other option left to us is witness protection. Changing our names, leaving o
ur home, never seeing friends or family and praying Asher never finds us again.
No.
My husband and children will not have to endure that. Plus with all the bodyguards of foreign dignitaries around, one speck of trouble and an army of men with large guns would descend on the source. We’re trained agents with supernatural talents and weapons taped to our bodies. Nobody better mess with the Wes
ts.

We make it through the foyer gauntlet to the overflowing ballroom. The orchestra plays a jaunty polka as the upper crust bounce around the dance floor or chat with their contemporaries off to the side. There are too many people both on the main floor and five tiers above to clock all potential threats.

“Holy shit, is that Steven Spielberg?” Nathan asks, pointing at the auteur.

“Yeah, and you know who the blond is? Princess Diana. Your sister’s gonna die when she hears you were in the same room as Princess Di.”

“She’s even prettier in person.”

I squeeze his arm with mine. “Head in the game, husband.”

“Right. Right,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s just …
holy shit, is that Tom Cruise?”

“Probably. They’re just people, Nathan.”

“Well, forgive me if I’m not as jaded as you.”

He’s nervous. He could barely fasten his cufflinks at the hotel, his fingers trembled so hard. If I allowed it, I’d be the same mess. Not tonight. Every emotion I possess is locked away until I have the luxury of opening the box again for a much needed breakdown. But tonight, I must remain focused, sharp like the blade of the silver knife taped to my back. It’s the only way I’ll get through this night.

“We need to locate Augustus and Alain,” I say. “Let’s do a sweep down here and then move to the boxes.”

“Do you think Augustus will actually see us?”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

We travel the oval room, checking every available face for our prey. I recognize a few monsters from boarding school, a vampire or two from the old nights, and not a friendly face in sight when they spot me as well. My debutante “date” Gerhardt is one of the familiar faces, though his hasn’t aged a day in over a decade. Guess his lover Heinrich made good on his promise to turn the teen. Forever seventeen, a fate worse than death. I smile at the boy, who promptly excuses himself from the group to rush off. My smile grows. “We have about five minutes before we’re summoned,” I whisper to Nathan.

At the five-minute mark, as we’re halfway up the side staircase to the second level, Gerhardt swans down straight toward us. “Gerhardt! Lovely to see you again. How have you been?”

Once more, he refuses to return my smile. “Lord Augustus requires your audience in his box.”

“Just the man we came to see,” Nathan says.

“Not him,” says the vampire, nodding at Nathan.

“And who’s gonna stop me. You?” Nathan asks menacingly as he takes a step up. “Try and I’ll send ten thousand volts straight into your head, frying your brain and boiling your stolen blood.”

“I—”

“Don’t test me, kid. I am in no mood.” Nathan’s lip twitches. “Lead the way, rent boy.”

Having no real option, save for causing an unwanted scene, the vampire escorts us to a fourth-level box filled with the glowering undead. I was never popular with my old circle of “friends,” but at least they hid their derision before. I’m surprised they aren’t spitting on me now. Byron appears about to, actually hissing as I pass him. But Asher instilled in me a sense of pride and calm while facing adversity, so I keep my head up and Mona Lisa smile plastered on.

At least there’s one friendly face here. That face isn’t that friendly
at present, but I know it’s an act. Part of the scene to come. “I told you she would be here,” Alain says, sipping his bloody goblet beside the Lord. He stares into my eyes, and the faint smile drops. “Despite my express insistence a few nights ago.”

“When have I ever heeded your advice?” I ask with a cocky grin
.

“And look where that mistake has led you, little Anna Asher,” Alain counters.

“Mrs. West,” I correct. “My name is Anna West now.”

“If you say so, dear,” Alain says, words dripping with derision.

I roll my eyes then divert them toward Augustus. “Your lordship,” I say with a curtsey. “I am not sure if you remember me. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Augustus snaps. “The whole of Europe knows who you are and whom you seek. I have personally been accosted
twice
by the law this past week. I assume that is your doing.”

“Any known friend of Asher was interviewed. They didn’t target you specifically,” Nathan clarifies.

“And this must be the lightning bug husband,” Augustus sneers, sizing him up from top to toes. “Definitely a downgrade, Miss Asher.”

“Mrs. West,” Nathan corrects.

“A rose by any other name,” Alain says with a smirk. “Though you have taken her bloom, Mr. West.”

“No. Your psychotic, evil friend Asher did
that
. Or tried to, at least,” Nathan counters.

“Nathan,” I warn as I touch his arm. No shock. He’s calm. Good.
“Lord Augustus,” I say, taking a step forward, “I apologize for any trouble we’ve caused you, I truly do, but I cannot stop the harassment. Nothing can except Asher’s capture.”

“It all goes away if you help us catch him,” Nathan clarifies behind me. “We know Didier Fournier worked for you once upon a time.”

“He worked for
many
people,” Alain chimes in.

“We don’t care if you facilitated the recent contract,” I say. “The past is the past. We just want to find Asher.”

“However, INTERPOL
is
digging into your financials and phone records as part of their ongoing investigation, which will continue until Asher is apprehended,” Nathan cuts in. “We now know Asher’s phone and bank routing numbers. One link and you lose your little fiefdom and possibly your life for facilitating the death of a former federal agent. Is he worth that?”

The lord’s thin lips purse in disapproval. “How dare you come here, making negative assertions about my character and threatening me?”

“It’s not a threat, sir. Merely a reality check,” Nathan says.

“Whatever it is,
sir,
you are ruining my night,” Augustus spits. “I do not know where your wayward lover is, Miss Asher, I have neither seen or heard from the man in over a decade, nor do I care to. Now, I suggest you both leave my city before I lose my temper, and INTERPOL has a true reason to investigate me. With the hornet’s nest you both have kicked, it would be impossible to narrow down the exact person that stung you both to death.
Leave
.”

“I warned you this would be a waste of time,” Alain says smugly.

I glower at Alain before returning to my husband’s side. “Come
on. I need a drink.”

I attempt to take Nathan’s hand, but he jerks his away as if my touch would slice his hand in half. “Don’t.” Nathan spins around and steps toward the door. Two men stand in front of it and don’t move until Augustus clears his throat. Still glowering, they step aside and Nathan stalks out with me at his impatient heels. Mission accomplished. Alibi established. I can breathe again.

On to Act Two. Tampa redux.

“Nathan, please wait!” I shout as I rush to his side.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I really,
really
hate fucking vampires?” Nathan asks, shaking his head. “I need a drink. Or twelve.”

We locate the bar on the main level, and Nathan orders a Whiskey Sour. I stick to Ginger Ale. Nathan knocks his back with one gulp. “Take it easy,” I say.

“Your old friends are uniformly assholes, you know that?” he states loudly before turning back to the bartender. “Another.”

“No, one’s enough,” I insist. I grab his hand again. “Come on. I want to dance. Let’s dance. Come—”

He violently yanks his hand from my grasp again. “I don’t want
to fucking dance with you. And stop trying to manage me like I’m a fucking child, Anna.”

“I’m not.”

“The hell you aren’t! I’m pissed, alright? And I have every fuck
ing right to be pissed. We’ve spent all our savings, I haven’t seen my kids in a damn week, and oh, your ex-boyfriend is trying to kill me, and it’s all your fucking fault! So no, I don’t want to dance with you. I want to go home.”

“Is everything alright here?” the man beside Nathan asks in a Swedish accent.

“Oh, fuck off,” Nathan snaps at the gentleman.

“Nathan!”

“You know what, Anna? You can fuck off too. I’m tired of chasing your damn ex-boyfriend around Europe. I’m tired of living under his fucking shadow, being constantly compared to him, your ‘great love,’” he snaps, using air quotes, “and coming up short. Well, I’m sorry I’m not some ancient jet-setting asshole who treats you like shit and gnaws on you like a chicken bone every night. I’m sorry I don’t take you to balls, and introduce you to dead poets who want to get into your pants. And I’m sorry I knocked you up, and you had to settle for me, okay? But I’m done.
Done
. You want each other? You can fucking have each other.”

At first I just stare at my husband, my mouth dropped open
and trembling as he glares at me. Not good enough. I toss my drink
into his furious face. “Go to hell, Nathan. Go. To. Hell.” I glance at the Swedish Samaritan. “You. You want to dance?”

“I—”

I take the stranger’s hand and drag him past our captivated audience comprised of more than a few vampires. Excellent. That piece of theater would be pointless without people to spread it around. The sacrificial lamb is now caked in blood. If my need of rescuing from my brute of a husband doesn’t entice Asher, nothing will. It worked with a werewolf in Tampa, why not a vampire in Vienna?

As the Swede sashays me around the dance floor, being smart enough not to speak while doing so, I catch sight of my scowling husband sitting at a table shooting me daggers when he’s not pretending to sip his whiskey. Eyes on each other at all times, rule number one. At the end of the dance, the Swede passes me off to the Russian for the schottische; who is replaced by the Scottish Laird for the Viennese waltz. I don’t even swat that one’s hand away when it rests on my rump. I’m so “beaten” and “miserable,” just staring into space as we twirl, I don’t see the point. Really, I have the strongest urge to knee the bastard in his kilted bollocks. Half an hour around the dance floor and still no sign of Asher. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t care about my manhandling. Or he’s turned on by it. He could go either way depending on which way the wind blew.