Page 16 of Stolen Magic
I barked out a surprised laugh.
“They won’t know what hit them.” Char winked and dashed for her tote. “Let’s move.”
Chapter Thirteen
Returning to the dingy motel was like a sucker-punch to the gut. The Spanish-style building with its chipping paint, few missing rooftiles, and a couple of letters burned out in the sign added to my gloomy mood more than it should’ve. Not that we couldn’t afford a five-star hotel, all-inclusive and all, but it was hard to stay under the radar when people were trying to kill you if you are bathing in luxury. Why couldn’t I hide while soaking in a claw-footed tub in the Hilton presidential suite?
Hiding sucked big time.
“Stop dragging your feet, Allie. Move your butt.” Char tugged on my arm enthusiastically, her bare feet slapping a staccato over the pavement. She lost her shoes in the killer wave that smacked us around, thanks to the water mage.
My thoughts drifted to the two attackers. I made them human. My heart lurched hard before it splattered at my feet. I found the spell in my mother’s journal in the section she had named dark-edge magic. Blood magic. I stayed away from it and never would’ve touched it, but the few pages written in her elegant swirling scroll got my attention. If I was honest with myself, I never thought it’d work. It wasn’t unheard of for a powerful witch to have dampened the powers of another before. It was written in all the warnings throughout law enforcement books and military paraphilia to forward to the MPO agenda. Even some mages could do it, from what I’d heard, but only to another with control of the same element. To take the magic for good and for a person to lose their power signature was unheard of.
So, how in the hell did I manage to do it?
The door protested loudly when Char yanked it open and shoved me inside the musty smelling room. My face scrunched when the odor of bleach, dust, and some unknown activities smacked me hard, wrinkling my nose in the process. Part of the shredded sheet we used to bandage Char’s arm was spread across one of the single beds, and the chipped chair with threadbare fabric on the cushion was pushed under the bolted-to-the-floor table. Who would steal an old scratched-out table from the place was beyond me. As a thief, I took great offense to that. In fact, it was actually a personal insult.
Okay, fine. I was deflecting.
“We need to go back to our apartment,” Char muttered more to herself than me while rushing around the room, collecting what little stuff we left in the morning, and stuffing it inside her tote. No kidding that bag was an abyss of mystery. “I needstuff.” What she meant was, she needed ingredients for her potions and talismans.
“We were attacked twice in less than twelve hours,” I pointed out in case she had forgotten our ordeal from earlier that day. “I really don’t think we should go anywhere near that building.” My friend turned toward me, her mouth already open to say something, but I was having none of that. “I’m not budging on this, Char. If you need something, we can grab it from the store on our way to another crappy motel just like this one. Who’s to say the mages didn’t follow us from the apartment to the store?”
“Right, and they waited until it was lunch time to kill us because they didn’t want to interfere with us making a profit for the day, I’m sure,” she snarked, the trademark glare known as “I’m a second from losing it” firmly in place. “I watched you and Dimitri while youtalked”—I seriously didn’t appreciate the way she said “talk” like she knew I dumbly thought the Alpha was going to kiss me when he only hid his hand to show me his magic—“and I have a feeling those two were following him, not you. I guess they thought you were an easier target, so they sent vamps after you.” My forehead puckered at her gleeful laugh.
“Thanks.” My dragged out reply had her pausing her frantic collection of shirts and pants that were sprinkled around the room.
“Tell your ego to take a backseat, girl. This is a good thing, trust me.” Her gaze searched my face, and I couldn’t hide my doubtful expression from those laser beams of hers. “When someone is going for your head, you want them to think you are easy to kill. Otherwise, they’ll send their best, and both of us would be toast right now.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic, so I kept my mouth shut. She was always the one seeing the bigger picture in any given situation. I was one of those who focused like a mule on one thing and couldn’t see the forest from the trees because of it. Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone, including the woman in front of me.
“I know that.” With an innocent shrug, I looked away from her penetrating stare. I pulled the burner phone that I used only for jobs not involving any wax, essential oils, or crystals and turned it on. “I have absolutely no issue giving that arrogant ass the book back, but the name he wants from me is a no-go. One, I never ask for a name. Two, the client is still AWOL, and even if I wanted to track them, I don’t know how.”
The empty screen of the phone with its weak light stared back at me like a death warrant. With my heart in my throat, I fumbled with the buttons to open the inbox, but only my own text messages glared back at me. Four texts with no reply. Whoever the person was, I knew they received the first one I sent when I told them the job was done. The money dropped in my account in less than five minutes. It was a bogus account connected to a dozen or so other accounts that bounce the amount transferring it from place to place until it was impossible for anyone to track it before it landed in my personal savings. When delivering the merchandise, I never delivered it personally and face to face. It was always dropped into a safety deposit box in any number of places, never the same, by a courier I followed to assure no one got sticky hands. A thief never trusted easily. Me? I never trusted anyone period. Well, apart from Char.
“I’ll fix that.” It took me a moment for Char’s words to register, and my eyes flicked to her face. She was acting too innocent for my liking.
“What do you mean ‘you’ll fix that?’” My gaze narrowed on her, but she was looking at anything but me. “Charmaine Mariatti. Fix it how?”
“Stop using my full name like some prison warden, Allie. You know that never works on me.” Oh, but it worked. The rounded corners of her cheekbones were turning dusky red, and her hands were fretting over the ripped sheet as if she could glue it back together. “I know someone that can at least tell us where the call was made when the person called you.”
“It’s a burner phone for a reason, Char. It cannot be traced.” Although it warmed my heart to know she wanted to call in a favor so she could help me, I knew it was a waste of time.
“It can be traced in this instance. And if anyone can trace it, it’s this guy.” I perked up at that, all sorts of questions springing to the tip of my tongue, but she kept talking. “After seeing that he or she sent vamps after you but mages after Dimitri, I have a feeling they were not too careful and didn’t cover their tracks with you. It’ll work, you’ll see.”
My jaw clamped shut so hard I could hear my molars grinding. Char meant well. I knew she did. But there were only so many insults a girl could take. I was nearing my limit, and I had a feeling when I exploded all sorts of unnecessary words were going to spill that I didn’t mean or want to say out loud. Or think for that matter. My problem was, when I was angry, I lashed out with the intent to hurt whoever had upset me. I regretted everything the moment the anger drained from me, which was in less than five minutes usually, but I knew I did a lot of damage in that time. I didn’t mean to, but I did. I never wanted that to happen with my only friend.
Char didn’t deserve it.
So, with that in mind, I bit the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go visit this guy and see what he can do.”
“Thank you, Allie.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she blinked fast to keep them at bay. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
“Why are you thanking me?” Taken aback, I even flinched like I’d never seen her before.
“For having enough trust in me to allow me to share this with someone else. I know you never do that, but I swear on my magic that I trust this guy. He will die before he says a word to anyone about it.”
“Because he cares for you that much that he will die before he betrays your trust, or you care for him enough to blindly trust him?” There was no judgment in my tone, and she knew it. I just wanted to know what I was getting myself into.
