Wicked Fantasy (5 page)

Conall turned to leave and then paused. “Are you ever going to stop rooting around in my mind without my permission?”

Holgarth raised one brow. “Of course not. Why ever would I? Your brain is such a treasure trove of amusing thoughts. They keep me laughing for hours. I'm so glad you're human and can't keep me from my nightly entertainment.”

Conall exhaled sharply. “Don't underestimate me, old man.” If he concentrated, Conall could probably lock the wizard out of his mind, but it'd never seemed worth the effort. He headed toward the stairs and his football game with visions of taking out his frustration on Holgarth's pointy head.

Gerry worked her way toward the pointy blue hat someone had told her belonged to Holgarth, while a grumbling Jinx trailed behind her. The only thing any worse for wear after Jinx's initial experience with the Securer was his temper. But she could deal with it for a few days.

“So if I shift will the chip stay in me?” He sounded sulky.

“You betcha,” she countered with unflagging good humor. Why not? She'd caught her man and maybe had a shot at something bigger if she got a bead on this super-criminal before Burke arrived.

When she finally reached Holgarth she couldn't say anything for a moment because the complete cheesiness of his outfit took her breath away. Sure, he needed the outfit for the fantasies, but a black outfit would've lent a dark dignity to the whole thing. Blue with gold suns, moons, and stars was so Magic Kingdom.

Taking a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and approached him. “Hi, I'm—”

“Gerry Kavanagh. I know.” He wasn't a lot taller than she was, but his gaze slid forever down his ski slope of a nose as he studied her. His expression said he was considering calling in the exterminators. “You have a secret that makes you feel, dare I say it, invulnerable.” Holgarth's eyes looked cynical and very, very old. “Perhaps the Castle of Dark Dreams has its own secrets.” His gaze hardened. “Always remember that the castle protects its own.”

Enough. She'd had all the weirdness she could stand for one night. “I'll keep your cryptic warning in mind. But right now I need a room for a few nights.” She glanced back at the glowering Jinx. “He'll need one, too.”

Holgarth's lips twitched. A smile? Seemed unlikely. She didn't think a laugh line would dare form around his grim mouth.

“Ah, Jinx. A thief who lacks even the rudiments of cleverness. You allowed an inexperienced officer to trap you in the ladies' room.” Holgarth was an equal opportunity insulter.

Gerry frowned. He knew a lot about what had happened tonight. Sparkle and Conall must've talked to him already, but just like those other two, he was taking the paranormal stuff in stride. Not normal behavior.

Jinx transferred his bad temper to Holgarth. “Hey, wizard dude, I do the best I can. Make yourself useful and convince Terminator Chick here to let me go.” He paused to consider what Holgarth had said. “Got any suggestions I can use?”

Something wasn't right about the castle. Gerry would never claim to be a person overly sensitive to inner vibes, but she was getting a bad feel about this place. She owed it to her career to stay here, though. “News sure travels fast. And how'd you find out about this secret I'm supposed to have?”

Holgarth pursed his lips. “I can read everything in your very open mind. You really should make some effort to shield your thoughts.” He turned away from her to speak to Jinx. “I wouldn't dream of interfering with an officer of the law, even one who has never experienced real evil.”

“You don't have to experience evil to recognize it. So cut the patronizing drivel, wizard.” Gerry's temper was so frayed that if Holgarth pulled the wrong string she'd unravel right in front of all his precious customers.

“That would definitely dim the gloriously happy atmosphere, so please, save any tantrums until you're snug in your room.” Without even glancing her way, Holgarth continued speaking to Jinx.

“And if you wish to be more successful in the thievery trade, you should expand your repertoire of shapes. For example, a mouse could've moved a lot faster with that ring. Perhaps a tarantula would be best for escaping with a bracelet. You could carry it on your hairy back.” Holgarth seemed to be really into his take on how to be the perfect thief.

Hero worship shone in Jinx's beady eyes. “Yeah, I get what you're saying.”

“Hate to break up the Robbery 101 class, but I've had a long night.” And it was getting longer by the minute. “Can we get two rooms, please?” Maybe after she relaxed for a few hours, all this wouldn't seem so bizarre. Besides, she was getting hungry.

Holgarth nodded. “Of course.” He waved someone over to take his place and then guided them to an authentic-looking stone stairway. “Do you have luggage, Ms. Kavanagh?”

“Nope. I live at the west end of Galveston, so I didn't think I'd be spending the night here.” She anticipated his next question. “I'm staying because I feel like it. And why are we going down?” Gerry peered into the blackness. Didn't look promising.

One puny wall sconce lit the bottom of the stairs. What lay beyond its small circle of light remained in darkness. Holgarth turned to look at her, and something in the play of shadows across his narrow face chilled her.

“The only rooms left are down here. The dungeon is to your right and all the other rooms belong to the vampires.” He moved into the darkness.

Vampires? Gerry hurried to stay with him. She was afraid of the dark, had always been afraid of the dark. Which was a big, fat, honking laugh considering her present lifestyle. But the habits of a lifetime didn't die after two years.

She filled the scary blackness with words. “I chase nonhuman bad guys every day, so paranormal entities don't freak me out. So far I've met you, Sparkle, and Conall. Can you separate the humans from nonhumans for me?” Gerry tried to look only casually interested. All fake.

She couldn't sense nonhuman entities, so it made her job harder. Up till now, her work hadn't taken her to places where the paranormal activity went beyond the criminal she was tracking. But she got the feeling that Jinx and the serial wife killer might not be the only nonhumans hanging around the castle.

Holgarth didn't answer as he stopped in front of a door. The door swung open.

Major clue. No key. “Are you human?” She was pretty sure of the answer.

“Jeez, I can't see my hand in front of my face.” Jinx bumped into her back when she stopped.

Holgarth waved his hand, and the lights came on in the room. “This is where you'll stay, Jinx. I put you right next to Gerry's room. I knew you'd want that.”

“Yeah. Right.” Jinx pushed past Gerry and Holgarth to get into the room. “See you tomorrow.” He closed the door in their faces.

Holgarth moved on to the next room. He paused before opening the door. “Human? In a superficial way, I suppose.” The door swung open, and he waved to turn on the light. “I'm simply a very old wizard. You can pick up a key to the room at the registration desk.”

She refused to let it go. “How old?”

“Napoleon used my services in many of his more successful military campaigns.” Holgarth started to turn away. “He should never have let me go.”

Gerry remembered to close her mouth. She'd never met any human or nonhuman that old. Time to play it cool, though. Holgarth would enjoy her shock too much.

Once again he honored her with a small lift of his lips. “I'm enjoying your shock immensely. Your mind? Learn to close it or else your thoughts will be the main attraction at every party. That's if you play in the paranormal world very long.” His brief attempt at a smile disappeared. “Or you'll be dead. On that cheery note, I'll warn you to leave Conall alone and then take my leave.” He faded into the darkness. She didn't even hear his footsteps on the stairs. And her hearing was very good.

Leave Conall alone? What was that about? She might have incipient lust for the guy, but she wasn't about to jump him any time soon.

Closing the door, she leaned her back against it and allowed the virtual breath she'd been holding to escape in a relieved whoosh. Blessed solitude. She kicked off her sandals before collapsing onto the nearest chair. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to plan ahead. Thank heaven Mom had a key to her house. She could bring some of Gerry's clothes to the castle. Gerry didn't dare leave to get her stuff. First off, she'd have to drag Jinx with her. Besides that little inconvenience, Payton had ordered her to stay at the castle.

Opening her eyes, she made the call and then looked around the room. Massive four-poster bed, sitting area with couch and two chairs, several antique-type pieces of furniture. The rich dark wood of the furniture, hardwood floors, and jewel-toned area rugs gave an opulent feel to the room. And then there was
the plant
. It was more stick than anything else. A few sickly-looking leaves clung stubbornly to the stick. What had Sparkle said about the plant? Oh, yeah, she had to water it. Why would a hotel put something like that in a guest's room anyway?

Her brain could use a few minutes of downtime before tackling problems like: Was Conall human, how was she going to keep Jinx out of trouble, was Conall human, and would she get a crack at collaring Mr. Murder before Burke arrived to do it for her? Oh, and was Conall human? So she stood and headed for stick-plant. A few minutes of mindless watering were just what she needed.

She was bending down to lift the plant when the door swung open with so much force it bounced off the wall. With a startled yelp, she straightened and turned around.

The object of her conjecture filled the doorway. All of it. And he looked really ticked off. “I love a man who knows where he wants to go and goes there with authority. Applause, applause.” Gerry hoped her snarky comment took his attention from her shaking hands. He was a primitive male force that two years ago would've backed her flat against the wall. She concentrated on stilling her hands. It didn't matter if he was a tower of testosterone, because he couldn't hurt her.

“I wanted to get this over with. Sit.” He gestured toward the chair.

“No.” She remembered how well he did looming. She'd stand.

He practically thrummed with angry tension. “If I'd told you to stand?”

“I'd sit.” And she also enjoyed poking sticks at big, fat wasps' nests.

He grunted at her before flinging himself across her couch. “Suit yourself.”

Since the challenge was gone, she sat on the chair and tried to look relaxed. “Talk.”

He raked his fingers—long, well-shaped fingers as opposed to the blunt fingers she'd have expected—through all that thick mane of hair.

“My last name isn't McNair. For publicity reasons and to guard our identities, Live the Fantasy advertises Eric, Brynn, and me as the three McNair brothers. We act in the fantasies as well as running the castle. Eric's a Mackenzie and Brynn doesn't remember what his original name was.”

She didn't need any extraordinary powers to sense there was something definitely wrong with this whole picture. “Why can't Brynn remember his name?”

“The memory of his life before he became a demon of sensual desire was taken from him.” Conall frowned. “Guess that sounds pretty weird.”

“You think?” Two years ago she would've labeled Conall as whacked-out crazy. Now? Not so much.

“Brynn thought he was a demon until he discovered that a powerful but twisted being had manipulated him.”

“Twisted being. Got it.” What are
you
?

“Eric belongs to the Mackenzie vampire clan. He's one of the most powerful vamps I've ever met.”

“Powerful vamp. Uh-huh.” But what
are
you?

“And I'm Conall O'Rourke.” He waited expectantly.

“I get that I'm supposed to react to that news, but I haven't a clue why.” She sort of liked the way he tightened his spectacular mouth as he got all grim and gorgeous.

He looked disbelieving. “Don't you know a thing about your family's history?”

What did her family's history have to do with anything? Okay, so his last name was important. Nothing on Mom's side rang a bell. Her father? “Wait, I do remember something. My dad died when I was young, and Mom saved a diary he gave her. She showed it to me when I was a kid. I read it, but since I've never met anyone from his side of the family, I haven't looked at it in years.”

“And?”

She thought about it. “Yes, I do remember the name O'Rourke. A bunch of slimeballs according to the diary.” Oops, he might take offense at that. “Not you, of course. It's all ancient history. The chief slimeball was someone named . . .”

He waited silently.

“Um, Conall O'Rourke.” Gerry stifled her nervous giggle. Strong kick-butt officers of the law didn't giggle. “What a coincidence. This Conall O'Rourke killed a Kavanagh ancestor, a really brave and great all-around guy named Sean. Well, isn't that . . . interesting.” Something bad was coming. She could feel it.

“The damn Kavanaghs couldn't even do a decent job of passing down the stupid curse to their descendants.” He looked like that was just one of many Kavanagh sins. “Now I'll have to explain everything from the beginning.”

Don't ask
. She asked. “Curse?”

“Meet the chief slimeball. I'm the original Conall O'Rourke. Sean was in tight with the Irish war goddess, Morrigan. The bitch goddess was really pissed when I killed her favorite, so she cursed me to serve and protect his descendants until they were all gone.” His smile was slow, wicked, and promised his next words would
not
be words of friendship and joy. “You won the lottery, Gerry Kavanagh. I've waited eight hundred years, but you're the last living descendant of Sean Kavanagh. I get to serve and protect you until the day you die.”