Would-Be Witch (18 page)

I drove ten blocks to Earl’s and knocked on his door. Mercutio danced around the front porch, climbing and pouncing, oblivious to the fact that he was supposed to be injured.

I laughed, watching him. “When we get home, you mind if I try some of your medicine? It seems to work real good.”

He meowed generously just as Earl opened the door. Earl used to have a nice six-pack of muscle in high school, but in five years he’d managed to bury it pretty effectively with hundreds of six-packs of Armadillo Ale.

“Hey there.”

“Hey there, Tammy Jo.” He looked around behind me. “Zach with you?”

“Nope. Just me and my cat. Mercutio, Earl. Earl, Mercutio.”

“Hey,” Earl said amiably to Merc. “So what are you doing at my door in the middle of the night all by your lonesome?”

“I need to pawn some stuff, Earl.”

“Do you? How come?”

“Well, like most people that pawn stuff, I’m in need of money.”

“Uh-huh. How come?”

Earl and I had been friends in high school. I was just starting to ask myself why that was. “As it happens I’m between jobs.”

“Yeah, I
heard
that. Why don’t you ask Zach for money?”

“Zach and I are divorced.”

“Uh-huh. He know that?”

“What exactly are you getting at, Earl? ’Cause I’m in kind of a hurry.”

“I figured since these aren’t exactly business hours.” He looked me up and down. “Well, come on in.” Earl rubbed a hand through his greasy hair. When had he decided that shampoo was optional? I followed him into the living room.

“Here’s what I have,” I said.

Earl looked the jewelry over and then walked to a desk with a hutch and pulled out a little thingy that you use to look closely at gemstones. He examined them and nodded.

He walked over to the couch and sat down next to me. I got a whiff of whiskey when he exhaled, so I leaned back. “And whose wedding ring is this?”

“Mine.”

“You going to part with something that’s got so much sentimental value?”

Like I had a choice. I clenched my jaw. “Apparently I am.”

“You know I was thinking of asking you out when you and Zach split up, and he let it be known that he wasn’t in favor of it. Put this notch in my nose.”

So that’s why Earl and Zach weren’t friends anymore. I’d wondered about that. They used to fish together twice a month.

“So how much can you give me for all this beautiful jewelry?”

“I guess that depends on you. See if you and I were dating, I’d be inclined—”

You have got to be kidding me.
“Oh, Earl, that sure is sweet, but . . .”

Mercutio seemed to sense my uneasiness, and he hissed.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.” Earl reached over and stroked a strand of my hair. I leaned back.

“So, how much?”

“Two hundred.”

I gaped. The pendant alone was worth five hundred. “I’m pretty sure you can do better, Earl.”

Earl grinned, showing his perpetually crooked bottom teeth. His momma had wanted to get them fixed, but he wouldn’t go to the orthodontist appointments. So he’d basically been a pain in the behind his whole life.

“You know, I probably could do better. Let’s have us a little drink and talk it over.”

“I don’t really have time tonight,” I said, starting to stand up. He grabbed my arm and squeezed.

“Now, don’t be like that. Sit yourself down.” He yanked on me so that I fell onto the couch and him.

“Earl James Stanton, you take your hands off me this minute, or I will tell your momma about this.”

He laughed, leaning to give me a kiss while he held me down.

“Stop it!” I yelled.

Mercutio landed right on Earl’s neck and did his signature swipe. Earl hollered and flung me to the floor. He reached for Mercutio, who darted away. Earl’s face was purple with rage. “I’m gonna kill that cat.”

Earl stumbled to the gun case.

“Run, Mercutio!” I screamed as Earl yanked the glass door open. Mercutio leapt over the couch as Earl swung the shotgun around.

Boom
. I blinked. Earl had blown a huge hole in his living room wall, missing Mercutio by at least five feet. Merc raced through the room, and Earl swiveled the gun after him. I hopped up and grabbed the brass lion lamp from the sideboard table.

The second shot rang out just as loud as the first. Me clocking Earl with the lamp was real quiet in comparison. Earl staggered and fell to his knees and then passed out face down on the rug. I bent over and checked his pulse.

Mercutio poked his head around the corner.

“Bad news, Merc. He’s alive.”

Mercutio sneezed and then I swear he smiled at me. I laughed nervously and then put a hand to my forehead and sighed.

“I need money. He offered us two hundred dollars.” I dug into Earl’s pocket and pulled out his wallet. I took out four hundred. “But two hundred wasn’t really a fair price. I’m sure he’ll see that when he sobers up in the morning. Now, you know what else we need to borrow?”

Mercutio purred.

“Darn straight,” I said, opening the gun case and pulling out a .38 special that was lying on the bottom. “This sure is convenient. Almost like it’s a sign. Pretty sure it is a sign,” I said, popping the revolver open and dumping out the regular bullets. “I’m definitely going to church this Sunday to tell God how much I appreciate His help this week,” I said, loading the chambers with the silver bullets that were rolling around the bottom of my purse. “You remind me Saturday night, Merc. The way things are going, I might be distracted and forget.” I slapped the revolver shut and tucked it in my purse.

I grabbed the throw blanket off the couch and laid it over Earl.

To Mercutio, I said, “All set.”

Chapter 17

Mercutio and I trotted back out to the car and drove over to Bryn Lyons’s house. I wanted to try to get him to sell me a spellbook or the spells I needed. If he did, it would save me a trip to Austin and all that time spent driving that I didn’t have. Also, I needed some answers from him.

I buzzed the security man. “It’s Tammy Jo Trask. I’d like to see Mr. Bryn Lyons, please.”

“Just a minute, Ms. Trask,” came the deep voice through the speaker. A few moments later the gate swung open. I pressed the buzzer again.

“Ma’am?”

“It doesn’t seem too polite that I don’t even know your name.”

There was a pause. “Steve.”

“Good evening, Steve. Where do you sit, by the way? Last time I was here, I was wondering that.”

“I have an office in the house, ma’am. On the first floor.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll probably see you in there then. If I don’t, have a good night, Steve.”

I heard him chuckle softly, and then he said, “You, too.”

“Oh, Steve?”

“Yes?”

“My cat’s with me, so could you tell your boss to put his serial killer dog outside?”

“Already taken care of, ma’am.”

“Steve, you can call me Tammy Jo. Everyone does.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I swung the car up the drive and parked it right in front. You never know when you’re going to have to make a quick getaway. And I could hopefully trust Steve to help me out with the gate now that we were on a first-name basis.

The front door opened, and Bryn leaned against the frame with a coffee cup in his hand.

Merc and I got out and walked up, and I realized that he was as dressed down as I’d ever seen him. Faded jeans and a black T-shirt that had white lettering that read, “Sarcasm is just one more service we offer free.”

I nodded to the shirt. “That your firm’s new marketing slogan?”

“You got it.”

“I’m surprised you own that shirt. I’ve never seen you wearing anything like that around town.”

“There are one or two things about me that you don’t know.”

“Such as?”

He closed the front door behind us.

“How’s Zach?”

“Out hunting werewolves.”

“I wish him well.”

“So what do you know about them?”

“That’s a very broad question,” he said, waving for me to follow him.

“I’d like a very broad answer, as quick as you can give it.”

We went down a wide hallway with lots of big impressive paintings and ended up in a kitchen that most chefs only dream about. I walked directly to the double oven and ran my hand over it longingly. I took another minute to admire his stainless steel appliances.

Bryn moved past me and opened the fridge. He pulled out a Tupperware dish and opened it. There was a perfectly arranged meal. Roast beef in gravy, green beans with slivered almonds, broccoli in butter. My mouth watered.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward the round granite-topped table.

“Who cooks here?” I asked, looking around reverently.

“A chef-for-hire during the workweek. On the weekends, it’s generally empty.”

“That sure is a shame.”

He popped the food in the microwave and hit the start button.

“You’re free to come over and use it anytime you like.”

I bit my lip at the temptation and shook my head.
He’s on the damn list. Get ahold of yourself!
“So you were going to talk about these werewolves.”

“There’s not much I can tell you.”

“Why are they after me?”

“You stabbed one of them.”

“But the wolf-man tonight said I was their enemy before that. Why?”

He leaned against the counter, as sexy as the stainless steel. “You tell me.”

“How should I know? I’m a pastry chef.”

“You never cast any spells before you got fired?”

“Never. Never ever!”

Bryn shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“That’s it? You’re supposed to be a brilliant lawyer.”

He grinned. “And when they sue you, I’ll have an answer for every question and a plan for every courtroom eventuality.”

“I don’t need courtroom help. I need to know how to stop them from coming after me. Have you got a plan for that?”

The microwave beeped.

“It happens that I might,” he said, and I heard that faint Irish lilt again.

He took the food out and set it in front of me with a beautifully polished silver knife and fork and a navy blue linen napkin. He got me a glass of water and a glass of red wine.

“So, are you going to tell me?” I asked impatiently as I placed the napkin on my lap.

He sat down at the table across from me. “We’ll need to strike a bargain. I don’t offer preternatural services gratis.”

I chewed the delicious roast beef silently. “I’m broke. I have four hundred dollars left to my name.”
Which is kind of stolen, and which I’ll need to return eventually to get the family jewels back.
“But if you’ll sell me a protection spell, that’d be a good use of what I have.”

“I can’t do that. It’s illegal for me to sell spells.”

“How come there are stores that can sell spellbooks then?”

“The books’ former owners are dead. The spells are sort of public domain, waiting for a new witch or wizard to claim the compilation and make it his or her own.”

“But you gave me spells.”

He smiled. “I did. It was supposed to be a one-time occurrence . . . because there were special circumstances.”

“Well, right, but some more special circumstances have come up.”

“They always do,” he said, laughing softly. “No one with power ever stops with one spell.”

“Hey, I’m gonna stop. Just as soon as I get a chance to.” I ate my vegetables and took a gulp of wine. “So. What do you want in exchange for help with the werewolves?”

“I want you to apprentice yourself to me.”

“Not going to happen.”

“You do realize that your life is at stake?”

“Of course, I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know that.”

Suddenly a disembodied voice boomed overhead, startling me. “Mr. Lyons, pick up. We have a situation.”

Bryn stood and walked over to a wall phone. He picked it up and asked, “What’s going on, Steve?” Bryn listened and frowned. “Detain them at the front.”

There was suddenly a pounding on the back door to the kitchen. I jumped up and yanked the gun from my purse, pointing it.

Bryn raised his eyebrows. “It’s not the werewolves. You can put that away.”

I ignored him. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Why don’t you wait in the foyer?”

“No way.”

“This doesn’t concern you. Wait in the foyer.”

Whoever was outside pounded again.

“And I won’t need a gun?”

“Not unless you’re planning to shoot the flower arrangement in the foyer. Go, now.”

I grabbed my purse and spun on my heel. I left the kitchen and walked about five feet down the hall.
One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand.
I stopped counting when a young guy in a security uniform started coming down the hall toward me.

“Steve?” I asked.

“Ms. Trask, can I show you the front hall?”

“Sure,” I said with a smile, then I turned and darted back to the kitchen.

As a chef, I’ve seen plenty of disasters in the kitchen, but in all my days, I’ve never seen any thing that shocked me so much as the scene in Bryn’s.

Georgia Sue lay unconscious on the table where I’d just had dinner. She looked like she’d been carved from ivory; she was that white. Bryn and Lennox Lyons leaned over her.

“What? What?” I yelled, rushing to her. There were a few drops of blood on the collar of her white Jammers work shirt. Then I saw the two tiny bite marks.

“You’re vampires!” I screamed, yanking my gun back out.

“No,” Bryn said holding his arms out.

Suddenly, Lennox Lyons looking so pale and ill made sense. He was a vampire, and he hadn’t been letting himself feed.

“You get away from her, right now.” They backed up.

“She has been bitten, but I didn’t bite her,” Lennox said. “She was in Magnolia Park.”

“Liar! She wouldn’t have been in the park alone. She’s married, and she got married so she’d never have to go anywhere alone, unless it was the hairdresser or the spa, which the park at night sure isn’t. Now pick up that phone and call nine-one-one.”

“She’ll be dead before they get here. She needs blood right now,” Lennox said. He still had his arms in the air.