Witches Protection Program (10 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“M
y sister keeps a change of clothes here in case of snow.” Wes opened the closet, taking out a pair of jogging pants and shirt.

“Why?” Morgan called from the bathroom, where she had finished a shower.

“She works in the city but lives on the island. Sometimes she stays here if the weather’s bad and she can’t go home.” Wes held up the pants, sizing them.

“Too long,” Morgan said from the hallway,
towel
-drying her hair.

“We can cut them down.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Morgan said. “They’re not mine.”

“I’ll replace them. Trust me, she won’t mind.”

Morgan walked toward the window, sniffing. “Smells good. Greek?” she asked, pointing down. “I’m hungry. I’m not going to let you ruin her clothes.”

“Oh, enough already.” Junie walked in from the kitchen. She grabbed the pants, swung them in a circle, snapped them once, then handed a perfectly shortened pair back to Wes. He stared at them, incredulous. When Alastair had decided to put Junie in a safe house, it turned out to be Wes’s apartment.

“How’d you get in here?” Wes asked.

“Alastair send me to chaperone. He said your joint was as good as any for me to lay low. Hey, I did your laundry.”

“I don’t have a washer.” Wes looked around at his tidied apartment.

“I don’t need no machines.” Junie winked. Luna meowed loudly, and Junie looked down. “Yes, I forgot. I got something in the oven.”

“I don’t have an oven,” Wes said.

“Apparently, you do now. Who’s that?” Morgan asked, taking the pants.

“Hi, doll.” Junie held out her hand. “Junie ‘Baby Fat’ Meadows. I knew your mother. I made dinner.” She returned to the tiny kitchen. “Nice place you got here for being out in the country.”

“It’s Queens.” Wes followed her to see what she was concocting. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, seeing a tray filled with sandwiches.

“Look, kid, if you’re not going to like the answers, don’t ask the questions.” She pointed to a book on the counter called
Seven Tricks for the Dyslectic
. “You know, I can fix that, if you want.”

Wes returned to the living room to see Morgan brushing her hair on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s all tangled.”

“Be my guest.” He watched the muted light of the room play with the hidden depths of color in her hair. He thought it was black but never realized the many different layers of darkness that could be identified. Violet vied with a rich blue in her thick mane. She brushed vigorously, and her hair crackled with static, sparks flying with each movement of her hand. He moved closer, closing his strong fingers around hers. Their eyes met, time seeming to stop.

Morgan shook her hand loose. “You’re not my type.”

“What’s your type?”

She stood, moving away, nervous about the attraction she felt. “Not yours.” She turned her attention to the kitchen, calling out, “What do you mean, you knew my mother?”

Wes watched her leave, wondering why the room felt so empty after she walked out.

Junie was busy chopping fruit when Morgan entered the kitchen. She looked up, acknowledging the young girl. “Took you long enough.”

“My mother?”

“Catarina. The prettier of the two sisters.”

“You know Bea?”

“Like the back of my hand.” She held up the gnarled hand.

“They were identical, I was told.”

“Only on the outside,” Junie said cryptically. “I used to babysit for them before they moved to Manhattan. I knew the whole family.”

“Did you know my father?”

Wes joined them, and Junie shrugged.

“Well, did you?”

Junie looked up to find Alastair entering the room.

“Wu?” Wes asked.

“Animal control has her. I’m kidding. She’s in a special holding cell at Central. Did you look at the USB?”

Wes shook his head guiltily.

“Well, go get it,” Alastair ordered.

“Is Gabby all right?” Morgan asked, forgetting about Junie.

“Sleeping safe and sound, all creepy critters back in candy form. You know she won’t remember anything.”

“I didn’t mean for her to be in danger. I don’t understand what’s going on. Bea has changed.”

Alastair shook his head. “She hasn’t changed; you’re just seeing her for the first time.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You don’t know us. She raised me! She’s been like a mother to me since I was two.”

“Was she really like a mother?” Alastair asked.

“Bernadette is hard and ambitious. She expects the same from everyone around her. This whole face cream thing is crazy. It’s like she is being driven by something strange.”

“There’s nothing on it.” Wes dashed into the room, holding up the small plastic USB.

“Impossible. Let me see.”

He brought in his laptop. “Look, it’s blank.” He pushed it in the port as they breathlessly watched the empty screen. “It’s been erased.”

“The formula. All the shipment information was on there. It was all for nothing!”

“What’s so special about this cream?” Wes asked.

Morgan paused.

“Really, Morgan. Who are you protecting and why?” Wes yelled. “You could have been killed tonight.”

“Not unless I was a diabetic,” Morgan replied.

“Ha, ha, funny. What do you think that bird brain had in mind for you?”

“He has a point, sweetie,” Junie told her. “Maybe you’ll be protecting your aunt by doing this. I can tell you something, nothing good is going on.”

Morgan bit her lip, looking at them each of them, from Junie’s rubbery visage to Alastair and Wes’s pinched white faces.

She sighed loudly. “Any woman applying Glow will have the Pendragon DNA seeping into her skin. Bernadette will be linked to them and plans to exert influence. She is looking to world domination.”

“That’s crazy!” Wes said.

“See what I mean? He doesn’t understand,” Morgan said hotly.

“Explain it so he can,” Alastair said gently.

“It’s not crazy. The women apply the cream. Then, when they see an ad or hear one on the radio, something clicks, and
voilà
—they will buy up any product my aunt has an interest in. She’s been purchasing small companies all over the country for some time.”

“Like what? Wes asked.

“She bought Genie Wilson’s
weight
-loss meals, Comstock department stores. I know she’s in negotiation with Dexter computers, and last week she purchased a television network.”

“So the whole thing is about money,” Wes said flatly. “Big deal. Magazines and television have been influencing buyers for years. An actress or celebrity only has to wear something or use a product, and every female is out buying it off the shelves. I don’t think that’s so important. She just stands to get that much richer.” Wes thought for a minute. “Anyway, if she bought a station, it would have made all the papers.”

“Not if you purchase with a partner nobody knows about,” Alastair said thoughtfully.

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “She’s been meeting
with
—”

“Vice President Gilroy’s wife, Juliet Gilroy,” Junie said grimly.

“How did you know?” Morgan turned to stare at the older woman.

“I saw an image. I wasn’t sure if it was her. In my broth,” Junie said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alastair asked.

“It was hazy. Besides, she’s always been Davina.”

“The vice president’s wife?” Wes said.

“She’s going to be the next president of the United States,” Morgan said with astonishment.

“What makes you say that?”

“Something Bea said.” Morgan looked thoughtful. “She told her to behave like the leader she was supposed to be.”

“I highly doubt that. She can’t sell her cream to every female, and even if she influences millions of women, that’s still only half the vote,” Wes argued.

“Not so much, pretty boy,” Junie said. “Which way the neck turns, so does the head. She plans on reaching women who will in turn influence their men.”

“I can’t believe witches are so close to the White House,” Wes said.

“Honey, there are witches
in
the White House. How else do you think those morons get elected?” Junie laughed.

“That’s nuts!”

“Davinas have been key players for years. It was our job to keep the Willas at bay.”

“So what’s gone wrong?”

“My aunt turned,” Morgan said. “That’s what’s wrong, and she’s gotten so powerful they may not be able to contain her. It’s crazy; she wants to rule the world.”

“Holy crap,” Wes muttered.

“More unholy, I think,” Alastair added grimly.

“Why hasn’t anyone stopped her? You know, like the FDA?”

“She’s been lying about the contents. Besides, who knows who is on her payroll there?” Morgan said.

“Those shipments are hitting the high seas in a little over
twenty
-four hours. We’ve got to stop her,” Junie said fiercely.

“What about the distribution in this country?” Wes asked.

“That’s still under our control. Once those creams are dropped off in foreign ports, we won’t be able to stop her,” Alastair told him. “You can’t accuse her without some proof.”

“Jersey. We have to get to the plant in Jersey,” Morgan said. “I can get into the warehouse there. We can reload the USB with the information and bring it to the right authorities.”

“You’re not thinking of bringing them?” Wes turned to Alastair.

“Do you have a better plan? Morgan knows exactly what she’s looking for.”

Morgan looked at Wes, her eyes intense. “You’re not going without me. I have to stop her before she goes too far.”

“Don’t you think she has already?”

“Look, Wes. Willas turn up every now and then and make trouble. It’s always been avoidable. People like Alastair have been steps ahead of them.”

“Not this time,” Wes told her.

“True,” Junie continued. “Truth is, it’s never gone this far before. No Willa has been able to get this powerful.”

“So what happened?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” Alastair said, but Junie knew that was not the truth.

Wes sighed. “I’ll get the car.”

Luna meowed loudly, and Junie laughed. “I know. Road trip!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“G
et the ads up and running!” Bernadette ordered. “I want my face cream in every store by the end of this week!”

Scarlett stood with a pad, writing instructions. The conference table was filled with personnel, each taking notes, waiting for Bernadette to reveal her plans.

Bernadette watched the reaction of her dream team, the crème de la crème of fashion, beauty products, magazines, and finance gathered at her quartz table. The room buzzed with suppressed energy. She had looted the most prolific and successful companies across the globe, recruiting the smartest and most aggressive women in business. This was her own personal shark tank. If they couldn’t find anything to eat, they’d feed on each other, and most weren’t even witches! Lila Duran, head of publicity, stood in her pinstripe Prada suit. She pulled at her straight hair nervously.

“I haven’t done a press release, other than that rather
half
-assed taradiddle about the bird and panther. Really, Bern, I need a few more days.” She had a British accent that revealed a history of private schools of the very privileged.

“Well, Lil,” Bernadette said from the head of the table. “You don’t have it.” She walked before a tripod holding an eraser board with a timeline on it. She passed the smallest rock in her hands from palm to palm. “Maybe if you spent less time in DJ Wub It Out’s bed, you’d have more time to get the work done.”

“That’s just a rumor.” Lila’s skin pinkened. “We attended Kanye’s show in Paris and sat next to each other.”

“Tell that to his wife. You’re lucky I like you.” Bernadette sniffed. “Look, I’m not one to pass judgment, but when work has to get done, get it done.”

“I have to coordinate with the studios. We have a movie featuring the cream in the storyline. You can’t spring this on me at the last minute.”

“Really,” Bernadette replied sarcastically. “What a whole lot of work you’ll have to do tonight, then. Right, Lil?” She drew out the name ominously.

“Is there even enough product on hand for the stores?” Roni Ellen, head of sales asked. Her glasses slipped down her wide nose, burned brown from a tanning booth she had in her office. One of the perks of being head of purchasing. There was very little Bernadette denied her staff. “I’ve promised two hundred million units, but if there is a run on Glow, this could be a disaster. People will mob the stores…” Her voice started rising with panic. “The suppliers might get angry. We could lose credibility! Where’s Wu? I need her to contact our factories in Singapore.”

“Wu’s out of town,” Bernandette said dismissively.

“But I need her,” Roni implored, her voice dying as she took in Bernandette’s cold stare.

“Well, you’ll have to manage without her.” She smiled coldly at the women. “Ladies, ladies, please.” Bernadette held her hands up, revealing that each palm now cradled one of her round stones. The room calmed. “I don’t pay you these exorbitant salaries to go out to lunch and hobnob with the hoi polloi on my dime for nothing. Lila, you were nothing but a
blow
-up doll for your former boss. Yeah, sure, he let you use the company plane, but what did that do for you? Charlotte…” She turned to the sleek woman who was head of legal. “You covered your old boss’s ponzi scheme, then bailed him out after the cops came, right, councillor?
Roni”
—she pointed to her suntanned
face
—“was hiding her former employer’s expenses from the government, a jailable offense last time I looked, and Sybil, I don’t want to even get into the gun running with the hotel asshole you worked for. Last time I looked, I had a group of women who were able to accomplish everything possible legally as well as illegally. All I asked for was to move up a distribution time.” Bernadette’s voice ricocheted off the black walls. The room was deathly silent. She placed the rocks on the table before her. Everybody knew about the rocks. Bernadette had a reputation for fondling them. Most thought it was unnerving. No one knew of their crystal strength, able to open Bernadette’s cluttered mind, zeroing in on her need to focus, dissolving the chaos. Scarlett thought they had powers. Bernadette never explained their abilities were wholly personal. Only Morgan intuitively felt them.

The door burst open. A stocky woman in a tight blue business suit, her fat, dimpled legs unattractively stuffed into
low
-heeled leather shoes, rushed into the room. Her short, frosted hair was combed ruthlessly to the side, and her faded blue eyes were wild with fear. “Bernadette!” she shouted.

Jasmine clutched the doorknob, still trying to prevent the intrusion. Her pitiful,
acne
-encrusted face turned nervously toward her boss. “I tried to keep her out,” she explained, her voice small.

Bernadette pasted a welcoming smile on her taut face. She turned to her staff. “Any questions?”

The room filled with a chorus of “No problem; on it, boss; you’ll have it on your desk within the hour.” They filed out of the room, worried, ashen faces distracted by the overnighter they were about to pull.

“Never mind, Jasmine.” Bernadette waved her off as the room emptied. “Scarlett, do something about her face. I can’t look at it anymore. Besides, it’s bad for business for her to look like that.” She motioned for them to leave. “Juliet, what brings you to New York?” she asked brightly.

Scarlett rolled her eyes with halfhearted agreement. “All right, come on,” she told the pockfaced assistant.

“They know something!” Juliet paced the room. “They are on to us. Bernadette, Larry has been asking too many questions.”

“It’s all under control, Juliet. You know that. We’ve planned for years. Sit down.” She gestured at the seat before her desk. Bernadette sat down in her big leather chair, resting her thin arms on the stone top. She wanted to remind Juliet who was boss. “What kind of questions?”

“They took Larry in yesterday. He didn’t say much, but they wanted to know about Bonsai Investments.”

Bonsai was the company they’d used to buy the network.

“What could he say? He doesn’t know anything about it.” Juliet worried her lip.

“Just as he shouldn’t,” Bernadette assured her.

“They asked if…if I still practiced, and would he vouch that I’m…Davina.” Juliet rose. “I knew I should have stayed with the old ways.” She got up, pacing the room.

Bernadette walked around, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Too late for that now, my dear. Who questioned you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who they are. FBI, police, I don’t know if they even told me,” she added with horrified wonder. “They were armed, with trance lifters. I thought you couldn’t even get those anymore. This is terrible. We have to close it down.”

“Knock offs, I’m sure. They don’t make them; they’re obsolete. Come now, Juliet. The invitations are out.”

“What invitations?” Juliet asked, her eyes popping out of her head.

“Figuratively speaking, the invitations to your inaugural ball, Madam President. Stop worrying. I have it all under control.”

“You promised no one would put it together. You swore, Bernadette.”

“I never break my word. Your reputation will be safe. No one will know. We shall announce your candidacy just as we planned. Let me handle everything. Ah, Scarlett, you’re back. Please escort Mrs. Gilroy back to her car.” She turned to Juliet. “Juliet, remember what I told you. We can’t be seen together just yet.” She wagged a finger at her. “Don’t come here again.”

Scarlett escorted Juliet out. Bernadette spun her chair to look outside. In the window, cat’s eyes reflected back at her. She turned back to her open office door. “Where are they, Vincenza?”

Vincenza held a large bowl filled with clear liquid in her hands. She blew on the surface gently, watching the water ripple from a tiny circle growing larger until it filled the entire bowl.

“Vincenza!” Bernadette said sharply.

“Patience. I see the car.” A black SUV materialized on the surface of the water. Four faces appeared.

“Is she there?” Bernadette demanded.

Vincenza nodded without looking up. “Yes, with an old man, the young one I bit, and…”

“And?”

“One of us.”

Vincenza dipped her finger in the bowl, circling the image of the older woman. “One of us, yet not one of us. They go to Jersey.”

“Jersey?”

“The warehouse,” Vincenza confirmed.

“Stop them. Bring my niece to me.”

Vincenza placed the bowl on Bernadette’s desk, closing the door quietly behind her. Bernadette looked at the quaking water but saw nothing.

Scarlett stood in the outer office, looking up when Vincenza entered the room.

Vincenza smiled slyly. “You know what I want,” she told Scarlett, her eyes raking the lush body.

“You get me what I want,” Scarlett said in a sultry whisper. “And I’ll give you what you want.”

Vincenza gave a feral growl, her eyes blazing as she leaped toward the elevator.