Fall From Grace (6 page)

Trick was only too
aware that everything he had right down to the clothes on his back
belonged to his Master. He could run up some cash on the 'company'
credit cards except Roman was generally not interested in money for
supernatural transactions. Vague promises of paying Roman back in
kind in the future weren't much good since both he and Trick could
see that future was looking a little shaky right now.

Roman gave him a big
smile. “Well, cowboy, good thing your survival does not depend on
your brain power! I got an idea. How about you give me a few vials
of your blood. Reaper blood is mighty good to power up death spells
against a certain class of demons. All it takes is a drop or two.
Now, if you'll just step into the kitchen with me.”

Not even waiting for
his reply, Roman scooted away from the desk and walked towards the
back of the house. Trick got up to follow. He didn't have much of a
choice. What the hell was he doing? First with Evie and now here.
It was only a question of who found him first – his Master or
Evangeline Grace. And if it was the Angel? There was no happy
ending to this story.

Trick ran his hands
through his hair. Damn, he didn't understand her effect on him. Or
probably he did. Was it the Martini? She held it in a funny way,
like a big glass of burgundy or something. Swishing it around. He
liked the way she held that glass. Or the thing she was doing with
her hair when he walked over. He shook his head. A man doesn't mess
with orders from a demon as powerful as Trick's Master because of
the way a woman holds a glass or plays with her hair.

A spell.

That's what this had to be. Some kind of Angel magic. Damn it,
why did it have to be a
woman
Angel? Maybe if it had been a man he could have
gone through with his Master's orders. Then he'd be free and not
facing a world of hurt from both sides of the supernatural
divide.

He paused for a quick
look out the front door, scanning the night sky. No sign of a pair
of furiously beating white wings. Wouldn't be long now, though.
Charm or no charm.

After tossing the sheet and
putting on some real clothes, Evie stopped for a blessed infusion
of iced espresso coffee. Some LA Starbuck's opened as early as four
in the morning, thank
heavens.
S
he allowed herself a little time to just
sit and enjoy the strong, bitter flavor of the coffee on her
tongue, looking out the window at the cars speeding by. The
commuter rush started early in SoCal.

Soon, she was winging
it back to the hotel by the airport. The building was crawling with
police and firemen. Every inch of the street outside lined with
satellite van's and local news crews. Network helicopters circled
overhead. Bewildered guests, many still in their pajamas or
clutching blankets, were wandering around the parking lot. A few
stood shouting and shaking their fists at what had to be hotel
manger. Evie cringed at the mayhem she had caused. However much it
was really Trick's fault, she fumed.

Winging past them all
in stealth mode, Evie scrambled through the broken window to
retrieve Trick's burnt-out protective bracelet. Luckily forensics
hadn't been allowed in yet due to the unstable nature of the floor.
She found the bracelet where Trick had tossed it, in the bottom of
the little trash basket pushed back under the desk.

Evie was hoping a
shadow of the spell's former power still clung to the bracelet.
Flying up on the hotel roof, she ran the little charms and amulets
through her fingers slowly. In her former life she had been a vice
detective. A New Orleans vice detective no less. The Big Easy was
not easy on cops. How ironic and yet appropriate, she often
thought, that she was still in the same line of work more or
less.

Yes
, there it was. The bracelet had a
distinct style of the paranormal, a little buzz of energy with a
feel all its own. Trick said it had hidden them from the Fallen.
Fallen magic was very formidable. That narrowed it down to a pretty
short list of SoCal wizards with the power to generate a Celestial
cloaking. Her assignments often involved tracking supernaturals for
vengeance. That made it her business to keep up with the ever
changing population of witches, wizards, vamps, demons and whatever
else crawled, flew, or slithered into L.A. County. Of course if the
Reaper had gone out of State, she was screwed. It could take weeks
to track the maker down.

Using the dead man's
phone – a crappy pay-as-you-go handset with no GPS – she called the
acolytes' office at St. Jude's. Bless their little devoted hearts,
the place was staffed 24/7. They seemed to have no problem talking
to her on the phone, it was only face-to-face that sent them into a
panic. Within a few efficient minutes, Evie had the addresses she
needed scrawled on the back of a Starbuck's napkin she found
stuffed in her hoodie's pocket. This morning she was wearing a pair
of low-heeled boots and her favorite style of flared yoga pants.
Angel tested and approved, she smiled to herself. She'd topped them
with a black tank top modified with velcro straps fastened around
her wing bones and a cream-colored Abercrombie hoodie presently
tied around her waist. When her wings were folded up and put away
with their magical prestidigitation, they didn't take up any space
and she could slip the hoodie on. Only when they snapped to
attention did she need the specially-tailored velcro tops.

Bracelet in hand, she
began to visit each of the Wizards on her list in turn.

Some were pleased to
see her.

Some were
appalled.

One fainted.

Ironically, the one
who fainted was the Wizard who steered her in the right
direction.

She laid him down on
the couch in his living room and gave him some water and an aspirin
she found in the hall bathroom once he came to. The address was his
home, not an office. A little thirties' style cottage bordered by a
tiny lawn and blue hydrangea bushes behind what looked like a new
cedar fence. He apologized for fainting, saying he'd mistaken her
for an Angel of Death.

"I'm a little new at
this," he explained as she rubbed ice on his wrists scrounged from
the freezer. She was near Chinatown, and this Wizard, Adam Lee,
specialized in luck magic. Business luck. He was a good looking
young man, clean cut, tan and muscular, wearing an Abercrombie Polo
shirt and khaki shorts. He looked more like he was planning on
spending the day surfing at Huntington Beach rather than reciting
esoteric spells over a Feng Shui altar, and Evie told him so.

"Grandad retired just a few months ago and passed his mantle
of power to me. He and my grandma' raised me. Love them to pieces.
I hadn't really planned to go into the family business but like it
or not, I have the touch. Not something you can ignore, you know?
Spirits can be kind of
chatty.
On the plus side, I'm my own boss and I can spend
the mornings surfing if I want. Except, you know,
damn
it can be spooky. My
nerves are shot." Also, he explained, he and his pals had just
finished a Stephen King movie marathon and he was sleeping with the
lights on.

Evie laughed at
finding a Wizard afraid of the dark.

His face flushed,
"I've never even seen an Angel before let alone talked to one. I do
luck magic, you know, nothing dark."

She
knew
that
the
moment she set foot over the threshold. The place was cheerful and
bright and the energy smelled clean as a field of green clover. She
doubted Adam Lee could come up with a black arts spell even if he
tried. That didn't mean the darker side of magic was quite so
ignorant of him. There was a tingling down her back. Maybe it
wasn't just his imagination keeping him up at night.

"Sorry. Not everyone
recognizes us at first, even magical folk. You must have a strong
power to read me so quickly."

He flushed even
deeper.

“I don't want to
scare you, but because of your energy, magic is drawn to you and
that means the supernatural beings who wield it as well. This isn't
your grandfather's place, am I right?”

She hardly needed to
ask that, the living room looked like a Hollister store with palms
and overstuffed upholstered chairs on bright cotton paisley
patterned rugs. A big, boldly striped surfboard was mounted
artfully above the couch.

“What? No, no. He
invests in real estate, you know? He gave the cottage to me when I
took over the business. Generally I see clients at our office. I'm
surprised you even had this address.”

She'd asked the busy worker bees at St. Jude's for where she
could
find
the
Wizards and they must have taken her at her word. They were very
resourceful.

“Just because you're
a Luck Wizard doesn't mean you can't make enemies from your
clients' competitors who might hold a bit of a grudge. Your
protection wards against evil are almost nonexistent around the
house.”

The flush drained
away from the young wizard's face and Evie was afraid he might
faint again. “I didn't know. I mean, I never even thought about
it.”

“Don't worry, you'll
be okay,” she soothed, patting him on the shoulder. “Give me your
cell.”

He pulled the phone
out of the deep front pocket of his shorts and handed it over.

Evie talked while she
inputted a name and number in his address book, “Sara Reynolds is
an awesome young Witch who specializes in warding houses and
protection charms.” She handed him back the phone. "Tell her Evie
Grace recommended you and that you need her to 'Fast Pass' you to
the front of the list. Sara owes me a favor. She'll bump up the
wards around your house so you can sleep at night. Plus, she likes
to surf too."

Adam
Lee's eyes brightened and he looked really pleased, "Thanks! I
should have talked about this with Grandad but he and Grandma' are
in Hawaii and all he says when I call is, '
why you waste money on phone call!
'
He's sort of an old school 'learn as you go' guy. Um, you had a
reason for coming here, right? Besides helping me out.”

That's right, she was there for
her
problem, not his. She'd gotten
distracted. Again. Just like with Josh and the robbery gone bad.
Blaming the Celestial HR department's job placement division, she
reminded herself again that Evie Grace was an 'Avenging' not
'Guardian' Angel to the whole wide world.

Evie handed over the
bracelet and sat next to him on the couch while he examined it. She
could see for herself he really did have the touch. His fingers
glowed with a clean, silver light as he manifested. She liked Adam
Lee already, and she was sure Sara would like him as well. The
young witch had come out on the other side of a bad relationship
and was finally ready to meet someone new. A handsome young man who
was also in the magic business might do very nicely.

'
Augh!
' Evie
thought, '
there I go again, slipping out
of avenging mode'
.

Finally he handed it back, nodding, "Talk to Roman. If this
isn't his work, he'll know where to go. He and Grandad go way back.
And I mean
waaaay
back. They like to fish together. Roman Barracuda. Voodoo. Not
the kind you might think. Voodoo gets a bad rep. There are just as
many good, powerful spirits in their celestial plane as dark
ones."

Armed with the
address and a little more information about the man with the
unlikely name of Barracuda, Evie left Adam Lee's. A short time
later she swooped onto the front porch of Barracuda Bail Bonds in
Compton. Before she'd even landed, she knew Trick had been here.
The tingly, prickly sensation she got when the Death Mark was near
went skipping over her skin. Faint though, very faint. Just a
shadow of its real power.

She'd taken the time
to stop by La Brea bakery and pick up a large bag of rolls and
muffins. Adam Lee said the Voodoo master, all appearances to the
contrary, was a gentleman with southern-style manners. Evie was
from Louisiana, southern manners was something she understood very
well. Always say 'please' and 'thank you' and don't come calling
empty handed.

Barracuda laughed
when she walked in, recognizing her immediately for what she was.
"I told him he should have taken you to the Ritz Carlton. Just look
at you! My, my. What was that boy thinking?"

It
took her a moment to make the connection between his comment and
the airport hotel she'd woken up in. She felt her face flush and
silently cursed the Reaper.
And
his big mouth!

Barracuda took the La
Brea bag from her, making “oh, you shouldn't have” noises. He
peeked inside and meeting her eyes, gave a broad smile that reached
right up to his eyebrows.

Evie couldn't help
smiling back.

“Now
don't those look scrumptious.
Mmmm,
mmm
. Yes, still warm, too.” Taking her arm,
he turned her around and escorted her to a large, claw-footed table
that took up most of one corner of the space opposite Barracuda's
desk. The inside of the office was painted the same creamy yellow
as the outside. Long rows of bleached-blond wooden blinds softened
the view on the big barred windows facing the street. The wooden
floors were the same color as the blinds. Retro travel posters for
the Caribbean that had to be from the 1930s or 1940s brightened the
walls with big splashes of pink, yellow, green and blue.

“Pansie, Rose Marie,
come see what, um. Where are my manners. I am that sorry. I have
not asked your name.”