Jade (17 page)

I had finished my steak, every bite, and ordered one more bottle of wine, I was not going to drink it all but I couldn’t resist trying one more. There was a man in the corner smoking a cigar, the smell of that cigar was wonderful. My beast was demanding I try one, I had never smoked anything before. I asked Michael to get me one of those as I enjoyed a glass from my latest bottle of wine and we continued to chat, he was telling me about his daughter’s struggle and her courage.

The cigar was awesome. It took me fifteen minutes to finish it, the smell and the flavor were fantastic. My beast was pleased to no end. Michael was amused but he told me I was not the first lady up there that had tried one. It was becoming more acceptable for women, he said.

It was time to go, my limo would be waiting outside and I had a mission tonight. I would be back to talk to Michael again, I promised, handing him most of the other half of that wad of money I had stuffed in my handbag as a tip.

“For Bella,” I said. There was probably upwards of twenty thousand in hundred dollar bills in that pile. He didn’t count it, but he knew it was a ton of money. He came around the bar and gave me a hug. I prayed the rest of my night would go as well as dinner had.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I thanked the limo driver with a couple more hundred dollar bills, telling him what a great experience I had at the Angus Barn, and that I would not be needing him any further that night. He dropped me off at the place they were having the charity event, what looked like an old plantation house, renovated and modernized. Either Jane or Jill would pick me up after their missions, we had each one of the non traceable cell phones I had picked up from storage and they would call me when they were done.

As I entered the house, I let my full power as a witch surface. As Death, I had more magic than other angels, it was needed for my job. When I had split my primary aspect away from my secondary and other aspects, I had taken half the magic with me. As I promoted my secondary aspect, training him to become primary, the magic that we had separated, gradually grew back to the original amount in each of our separate entities. It was a long process, accomplished over several decades of planning and training.

I had never trained as a witch but over many centuries had observed the use of magic, sensing the feel and nature of the spell rather than learning the spell itself. I knew there were other witches present inside. Witches can certainly sense magic in another person, as had happened at the Japanese steakhouse we had attended with the family that had mother and daughter as witch. I had wondered at the time how my magic, even buried, had been viewed, now I was letting the cat out of the bag. There were other witches in the house I sensed as I approached. That would make sense as Roger Simpson was a witch himself, trying to become the first supe mayor of one of the three territories.

I wanted to get his attention by having my light shine brightly, so to speak, getting him curious about my obvious power as a witch. I had no doubt that my magic was stronger than any witch on the planet. He would not be able to miss it, even from across the room.

As I entered, I noticed the other witches that I had sensed, about a dozen had already been staring at the doorway, sensing me coming. The look on their faces, I thought,
shock and awe time
, my witch was reveling in her power and the attention she was getting. I knew what Roger looked like, he was across the room, schmoozing with the rich and generous, hoping for some nice donations to his cause. He had paused and partially turned my way, looking as if he had been in the middle of a conversation, now forgotten.

He completed the turn and started to take a step in my direction but was gently held back by a couple of female witch bodyguards. They wanted him to play it smart, not knowing if I was a danger to him.
Smart yes,
I thought,
but they are probably jealous as well. Witch bitches,
I cursed to myself and one of the champagne glasses one of the waiters was carrying on a tray popped, spilling its contents.

Got to watch my attitude,
I mused, striding into the room pretending nothing unusual was going on. It was a large space, evidently designed as a dining and meeting hall for such high-society events. There would be only a hundred invitees, I knew. I had shown my magic card as my invitation but still, I knew I was not on the list and was taking a big risk. As I scanned the room, I noticed one other man I recognized, one of the Fallen, like me. I had been following him as Death because of my interest in the Fallen. He was a pretty common angel, but a good one—one of the nudgers, an angel who tries to nudge mortals onto the right path. I was not the only angel that had been shocked at his sudden choice.

He had noticed the attention that the witches in the room had given me as I entered. Now, they were avoiding me like a plague. As I advanced in the room, they would unobtrusively slide in another direction.
This is not going according to plan,
I thought. Maybe I had overdone the getting attention part of things.
No going back now,
I thought, heading towards the fallen one, a man trained as an angel to observe and gauge mortal actions. As with most of the angels who have made a choice, his nature was human. I was only the second one that had fallen as a supe.

He did not know what I was or who I had been. I still wanted to talk with him. If nothing else, I hoped, I would be able to ask him some of the questions I would have asked him eventually if I had remained the Angel of Death.

I introduced myself as Joan and he introduced himself as John Doerty, I knew that was branched off from John Doe. He had pretended amnesia when he had fallen to the mortal realm, as had others before him.

He was drinking scotch when I asked him if the bar had any red wine, he led me over there and ordered up a glass for me. We wandered into a quiet area of the room, chatting about the weather. I could tell his curiosity was up.

“That was an interesting reaction when you came into the room, Joan,” he said. “I would guess maybe Roger’s ex wife or girlfriend or some political or witch rival but I have known Roger a few years and I don’t recognize you.”

“I showed too much of my power,” I replied, deciding on the truth with this angel, at least as much truth as I could give him. “They are now officially scared,” I continued. “They will probably have security escort me out at any moment. I really misjudged this one.”

“We can’t always know how people are going to react to things,” he said. “I have been a student of human behavior for some time, choosing the field of psychology as my life’s work, and I am constantly irritated by how often I still get things wrong. If you misjudged, you will just have to make adjustments.”

“I am not God,” I replied. “Even an angel trained in the art of nudging someone on the right path can make mistakes.”

He paused for several moments, knowing that I knew who and what he once was while drinking the last of his scotch. “How did you know?” he asked. “I have never seen one of the fallen become a witch before.”

“I became interested in you when you made your choice,” I replied. “I am not the first to fall as a supernatural, although it is very rare.”

“Who were you?” he asked me.

“The Angel of Death,” I responded. He had been one of the very few angels I had actually had a conversation with. Once, he had stood by as I collected a soul of a human he had been helping, not challenging what my choice of the disposition of that soul would be, but instead, trying to convince me to make a choice of a better place for that soul. “Your choice as a career here was a good one, you have become a fine psychologist.” It was true, he had risen to prominence in his field and had become both professionally and financially successful.

“Wow,” he said. “This is a story I have got to hear.”

“A story for another day, perhaps,” I replied. “Perhaps I could call you and we can have lunch together. It would be nice to have a friend that has gone through a similar change.” I had seen Evelyn entering the room, seeing me and heading straight towards Roger. “Let me ask you, is there is anything you miss, anything you regret about your choice?” It was the same question I had asked many of the fallen when they had passed on.

“Nothing,” he said. “You?”

“It’s been an interesting week, to say the least,” I replied. “I may have to hire you on a professional basis just to help me deal with everything that has happened. Stay with me here for awhile, maybe introduce me to some of your friends. If you are a friend of Roger, that is probably the only reason they haven’t kicked me out. I wasn’t invited to this event, I crashed using some magic.”

“No worries,” he said, smiling. “You are here as my escort now. Tell me why you need to talk to Roger.”

“My real name is Jade Smith,” I responded. “You know, the fugitive from justice, bad cop turned human hater?”

He had been surprised at the news that I had been the Angel of Death, for this one, he was just amused.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Who else could you be now? I have to admit, I have been a bit under the weather lately and I thought about not coming tonight. I am sure glad I decided to come. Stick with me, Joan, and I will still call you Joan, at least for now. Let’s meet and greet some of these fine people.”

I followed him around like a little puppy dog, meeting and greeting. He introduced me as Joan Smith. I think using my real last name gave him pleasure or like the Winter Queen, he knew the value of this type of thing, almost hiding something by drawing attention to it. As we made the rounds, I kept an eye on Evelyn. She had convinced Roger Simpson to do a quick interview, as they left together, the two witch bitches standing outside a small meeting room door, guarding as he talked to our reporter behind closed doors. I was certain that he was well aware of what news she had aired tonight, even if he had not seen it.

Most of the people I met really impressed me, even the witches. They seemed genuinely concerned about the charity and research into finding cures, and excited about being able to help Roger with his efforts. I think Roger had invited people based not only on their financial resources but also for their compassion and generosity. Even the witches I met seemed pleasant, no longer acting so standoffish, it had been a stroke of luck that John had been here tonight. They all liked John, if I was with him, I must be okay. A few did seem a bit hesitant to shake my hand, afraid that I might burn them or something. Some asked about what I did or where I was from. I generally distracted them by telling them I was working on a special project involving the special health concerns of the supernatural community and hoped that I could convince Roger to join in the effort.

Evelyn and Roger came out of the door after about fifteen minutes and he announced to the crowd that we would be heading over to another room to watch a video presentation he had prepared. Chorus of groans on that one. “I will join you shortly after that,” he said. “My interview with Evelyn here went a little longer than expected and I want to look over my notes before I give you my speech.” This was followed my a few cheers. “After which I will be asking you to pull out your checkbooks.” More groans followed.

As the staff led the people out of the main hall he asked John if he and his friend could talk with him for a few minutes first. I could tell his two little witch bitches were not happy with that, one hissing to him that I was dangerous and an unknown risk he need not be taking. I simply smiled at them and let my fangs drop a bit, getting a similar reaction from them as Sarah had when I had done this to her. They actually took a half step back.
Scaredy cat witches,
I thought. Roger knew who I was. Evelyn had told him per our agreement and he was not surprised. John looked like he was about to burst out laughing.
What fun,
I thought as John and I followed him into the small meeting room he had used for the interview with Evelyn, the two witches left guarding the closed door, yet again.

“Roger,” John said as we seated ourselves at the small conference table, “I want you to know that this lady is someone I knew before my memory loss, I would trust her with my life.”

I bet he could trust me with his death and I could guess that was the word he wanted to use instead.

“She is Jade Smith,” Roger said. “The cop that they are searching the city for.”

“When I said before,” John responded, “I meant really before as in the same place I was in, before.”

Now, it was my turn to be shocked. John and Roger must be close friends for him to have confided in Roger in this way. Most people would think John had lost his marbles.

“Ah, I see,” he said, turning to me. “Talk to me,” he commanded.

“I am going to give you what the Winter Queen has told me,” I answered. “She is more experienced in these things and can see the long-term side of things better than me. She wanted me to tell you that this is a war, an important one, and that it could have far-reaching negative consequences for both humans and supernaturals. She asked that I inform you that this is more important even than your political career, more important than even if you someday won the election to position of mayor of one of the territories. She wants to know if we can count on you for support, when asked, even at a moments notice. She has a feeling that we will need help from the witches, and very soon. She is asking for you to give your personal support and use any influence with the Witch Council that you may have, if she asks for it.”