The Frozen Witch Book One (3 page)

“Shit,” I spat under my breath, dropping
down and running a hand over the damage.

A good girl, in my grandmother’s eyes, would
promptly turn around and tell management what she’d done. Me? I
walked away, grabbing Stacey’s makeup bag. Checking my reflection
one last time, I left.

I wouldn’t bother replying to my mother’s
text until this gig was over. And, hey, by that time, maybe I
wouldn’t have to reschedule with my Nona – maybe she would be
dead.

I winced at the thought. There were some
lines even I wouldn’t cross.

Or at least, so I told myself.

Larry McGregor

This was it. He was a dead man. Even if he
managed to make it back to Saunders in time, it wouldn’t count.

Larry had already burnt too many
bridges.

“Move your funkin’ ass,” Larry spat at the
taxi driver as he banged his knuckles against the glass dividing
window.

“Sir, I’m driving as fast as I
can.”

“Well it ain’t fast enough. I’ve got two
minutes.”

Two minutes.

Franklin Saunders had given Larry two days
to retrieve the box. Larry had gotten it. But it had cost him. He’d
had to personally go against Hank Chaplain’s men to steal it back.
And Hank Chaplain? He was the worst asshole in Saint Helios
City.

Larry was a small fish, and Hank had always
ignored him, only partnering up occasionally if Hank really wanted
something Larry could get.

Now Larry had burnt that bridge.

All to get this stupid box back.

Not for the first time, he timidly ran a
hand along the rough wood. The thing was old – ancient, if Barney
was any expert. And he was; Larry had stolen enough antiques from
clients over the years to appreciate that Barney had a real nose
for figuring out how much something was worth.

This box? When Barney had seen it, his beady
eyes had popped. The old grouch had doubled over his bench,
practically salivating.

Larry had tuned out most of what Barney had
said. There’d been something about ancient Norse runes carved into
the wood. Something about the box potentially being thousands of
years old.

The only thing Larry had cared about was one
little word: priceless.

Priceless never meant priceless. It meant
something was so rare it couldn’t be replaced. Larry knew from
experience that everything – everything – in life could be bought.
You just had to find someone willing to pay.

Now Larry’s knuckles tensed, protruding like
white rubber balls against his flesh as he pushed the box harder
into his chest. It was Larry’s turn to pay.

Pay for his sins, as Franklin Saunders had
put it.

“Just hurry the hell up,” Larry snapped as
he glanced at the clock on the dash once more.

One minute. Larry had one minute. If he
didn’t show up at Franklin’s door in time….

…

Lilly White

“God, it’s packed in there.” Stacey
grabbed her skirt, neatening it with a quick pat as she shoved her
empty tray towards me.

I leaned past, catching a glimpse through
the service door. Stacey was right – the function hall was packed.
It was a massive room, too.

“There’s gotta be at least 500 people in
there,” I whistled under my breath.

“Sure are, and they’re drinking like fish.
We need more champagne and Chardonnay, stat.”

“I’ll let the kitchen know.”

“No, I will. You’ve got to get out there –
I’m all smudged,” Stacy pointed out as she checked her reflection
in her shiny silver tray.

“You look okay,” I tried.

She snorted at me derisively. “You think
okay is good enough? My future husband’s waiting out
there.”

I chuckled. “Does he know
that?”

She flashed me a smile that was all teeth.
“He will soon. Now cover me while I go do some
touchups.”

I didn’t question. I grabbed one of the
trays along the service bench to my side, smoothly backed towards
the door, pushed it open, turned, and entered the function.

Immediately, I smoothed a smile over my
lips. The kind of smile that would not be moved no matter what
happened. Drunk guy spills his burgundy down my pristine white
shirt? I would smile. Some old lady elbows me in the face whilst
she reaches for a canapé? I would smile. Some letch goes for my
ass? I would smile stiffly then tell the kitchen to spit in his
drink.

It was all about the smile, as Larry always
said.

Larry….

My mind instantly snapped back to him. I
hadn’t seen him yet. Which was insane. Larry ran his business right
down to the minutest detail. He took micromanaging to a new level.
As he always harped on, he hadn’t created the city’s most lucrative
catering company by sitting back and watching buffoons like me flop
around ineptly.

Then again, it wasn’t micromanaging that had
brought Larry his success. Considering some of the rumors I’d heard
about him, it sounded like Larry wasn’t always shy about taking a
souvenir from clients. And the richer the clients? The more
expensive the souvenir.

You’d think, knowing this, that I wouldn’t
work for him. Firstly, I needed the money. Secondly… god, I don’t
know, but I seriously didn’t think Larry was a bad guy. Sure, he
was as crooked as a gnarled tree, but that didn’t make him bad.

I knew instinctively that my grandmother
would cringe at my loose morality. To her, Larry had broken
countless laws and should pay for them. To me? Larry had lived a
hard life. Sure, that didn’t justify stealing. But let’s face it –
the kinds of rich assholes who could afford functions like this
were also stealing. They were just doing it in public by messing
with everyone’s finances. Society was strangely okay with that. I
wasn’t.

A guy leaned past me and snatched one of the
drinks off my tray before turning to offer the woman beside him a
wink.

She was stunning, decked out in a blue satin
dress with diamonds draped around her throat.

I glanced at her but didn’t stare. Because I
wasn’t allowed to stare. Smile, of course. But staring – actually
using your eyes to make eye contact with people – that reminded
them you were here. Reminded them that they should say thank you,
please, and excuse me.

The only time these guys would say thanks to
anyone was when they were helping themselves to your retirement
fund and screwing up the economy.

So, without making eye contact, I offered
the woman a drink.

She reached out one long, elegant arm,
hesitated then took one of the flutes of champagne. And that brief
moment of hesitation? It was enough that I swore I saw
something.

Something that couldn’t have been there.
Something that must’ve been a trick of the light. Maybe it was a
reflection from all those glittering diamonds.

Still, for the briefest fraction of a second
it had looked as if a symbol had flickered over her wrist. A symbol
made entirely of blue light.

I
twitched with nerves, and that cold
hard lump I’d been battling in my chest for weeks suddenly became
all the colder.

It was such a pronounced, awful feeling, I
had to readjust the tray as I rubbed at my sternum.

Feeling my cheeks slacken and a quick sweat
slick across my brow, I turned on my foot quickly, wanting to do
the rounds and get off the floor before I fainted or hurled. Larry
may be a good guy way underneath, but if I screwed up this gig,
he’d find some way to make me pay.

I turned so fast that I didn’t see a figure
behind me until it was too late.

I slammed into a man, and instantly I lost
hold of the tray, the drinks teetering to the side.

Before they could fall all over me and smash
against my feet, something happened. Something my rational mind
told me shouldn’t be possible.

The guy I’d bumped into pushed a hand out,
grabbed my wrist, and twisted it to the side. It was a precise
move, a smooth move. It straightened the tray and stopped the
glasses from falling. A few glasses splashed their sticky,
alcoholic contents over the tray and my wrist, but that was it.

As soon as I was stable, he took a step
backwards.

You know that trick where a magician comes
along and grabs a tablecloth, pulling it out from underneath an
expensive dining setting?

Yeah, that was like this. Except this was
real and way more impressive.

I stood there, heart pounding as I stared up
at the guy.

Except he wasn’t just a guy. As the man
brought a hand up and neatened his tie, straightening a strange,
brass tie pin until it sat perfectly horizontal with his collar
bone, he offered me a short nod.

And who was he, exactly?

Oh, he was Franklin Saunders.

The Franklin Saunders.

And he was way hotter in the flesh than he
was in the magazines. Which, my mind told me, should be impossible.
There wasn’t any airbrushing in real life, no fancy lighting, no
staged sets. And yet Franklin Saunders looked… sharper, clearer,
realer than anything I’d ever seen.

And no, I was not a girly girl. Unlike
Stacy, I didn’t sit on bathroom benches and pretend I was going to
swoon.

Still, I couldn’t fight the effect he was
having on me.

I’d drawn a crowd. I may not have just
broken a tray full of expensive champagne on the floor, but that
didn’t matter. Franklin Saunders had used super-human reflexes to
save a ditsy waitress.

People were already craning their necks to
stare.

Clearing my throat and redoubling my grip
on the tray, I managed a quick, throaty, “Thank you, sir.” I
twisted around to leave quickly. As I did, I heard the woman in the
blue dress introduce Franklin. It sounded like she was his
secretary.

Seriously, his secretary? She looked as if
she were wearing a million bucks.

Trying to hide behind my fringe, I had to
fight off the urge to turn and get another look at him.

I had to fight and fight, and by the time I
made it to the service door, I lost the battle. With one hand
resting on the smooth metal frame, I shifted over my shoulder,
craning my neck as far as it would go until I caught sight of him.
Fortunately, he was tall and broad enough that he stood a full head
and shoulders above most of the crowd.

Fortunately, he was also turned in my
direction. No… he wasn’t just turned in my direction – he was
facing me, looking right at me. And even from here I could see a
slight, confused frown pressing over his lips. His gaze darted from
his hand then back to me, almost as if I’d left a stain on his
fingers when he’d grabbed my wrist.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My heart started to go crazy. It was as if
somebody had reached inside my chest cavity, wrapped their hands
around my heart, and started shaking it with all their might.

And that cold sensation lodged in my
sternum?

It exploded.

The unmistakable taste of metal filled my
mouth as my head started to spin.

Before I could drop the tray again,
somebody suddenly shoved the service door from the other side. The
door rammed into my shoulder, and I jolted forward.

I managed to shift, saving the tray in time,
even more of the wine spilling out of the glasses and covering my
arm as I turned in time to see Larry.

He was finally here. And he was as white as
a sheet of ice. His cheeks were so sallow it looked as if he hadn’t
rolled out of bed that morning, but he’d rolled out of the grave
instead.

“Larry? You okay?” I asked in a stuttering
breath.

He ignored me. He stood there, somehow
growing paler by the second as he appeared to search the crowd for
somebody.

That somebody started to walk towards
him.

Franklin Saunders.

As soon as Larry made eye contact with
Franklin, it looked as if the little guy would have a heart
attack.

Franklin brought a hand up and tried to
straighten his brass tie pin once more. “Let’s take this somewhere
quiet,” he suggested.

One of the other wait staff had bustled past
me, and as she shifted out of the way, Franklin’s eyes locked on
me.

His stare didn’t stay on me, though. His
attention fixed on my wrist. The same wrist he’d clutched minutes
before.

He looked like he wanted to ask something,
but he didn’t get the chance.

Larry untucked something from under his arm.
Whatever it was, it had been hastily crammed underneath Larry’s
jacket. Larry never took his jacket off at gigs like this. It could
be sweltering, the air con could be broken, but Larry always wore
his suit and tail.

Now his pristine jacket was getting crumpled
under his sweaty grip.

Larry, usually as talkative as a pet parrot,
didn’t say a word as he turned and walked back through the service
door.

Franklin appeared to pause for several
seconds, his attention still riveted on me.

I watched his lips open, watched him begin
to ask me something.

What it was, I didn’t get the opportunity to
find out.

At that moment, several more waitresses
shifted through the door, blocking me from view.

When I looked up again, Franklin had
disappeared, the service door swinging on its hinges.

I stood there, stock still, for several
seconds. Several seconds where my heart rammed so hard in my chest,
I was sure I would end the night in hospital.

Back when I’d been a kid, I’d been anxious.
Though I hid it well as an adult, I got scared easily. I always
found it hard to talk myself down whenever terror raised its ugly
head.