Bewitched, Blooded and Bewildered (6 page)

“What?” I snapped.

“Cat, it’s me,” Mac replied.

“Do you know what time it is?”

Lex groaned something, which may or may not have been English, and I told him Mac was on the phone. That got his attention, and he propped himself up on one elbow.

“No, why?…Oops. But this is important. We found something,” Mac said.

I bolted upright. “You serious? You better be serious at this hour.”

“Completely serious. He wants you to come in to talk about it.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.”

Rubbing my eyes, I tried to figure the time it’d take to drive to LaGrange and back versus the time the real estate agent was supposed to arrive. We were on our second agent, and I couldn’t cancel on this one again, not if we wanted to make progress on selling Lex’s house. It was a nice-enough place, but I needed somewhere that was
ours
and not
his.

“We can’t come out until later this morning. Is that okay?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what Simon’s sleep schedule was like, but I assumed like most bloodsuckers he was nocturnal.

“That’s fine. I’ll let him know,” Mac replied.

“Thanks, hon. Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Yeah, can you pick up a gallon of 2 percent milk? We’re almost out.”

I frowned. For a moment it was like it’d always been between me and Mac—normal, everyday conversation between friends. But it wasn’t normal anymore. Mac was living with an undead librarian, training to become one himself. His whole life had changed because of me.

I was a crappy friend.

“Sure, no problem,” I said. “We’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep.”

Like that was going to happen. I ended the call and set my phone back on the nightstand.

“What’s up?” Lex asked.

“Mac says Simon found something. We need to head over to talk to them later. And Mac needs us to pick up milk. Do chroniclers drink milk?”

“In tea, possibly. Maybe Simon’s a fan of milk and cookies,” he suggested. I laughed at the thought of Simon St. Jerome, aged vampire librarian, nibbling on a plateful of Oreo cookies while reading a dusty, old spell book. Yeah, not so much.

Excitement at the possibility of canceling the Zachary Harrison radio station buzzing around my brain meant there was no way I’d be able to go back to sleep, so Lex and I decided breakfast was in order. The scent of coffee and bacon lured Marie out of bed, and she decided to join us. With all of us in the kitchen, plus two dogs and two cats, it was loud and boisterous. I was still getting used to it, after spending the last several years living alone.

The new real estate agent hated everything. Either there was too much stuff in a room or not enough stuff. It was all “staged” wrong. Now, I knew full well that Lex’s place was decorated like a sports bar. It had a masculine feel, which may be part of the reason why I’d never felt comfortable there. It was fine for a bachelor pad, but we were moving on to a family-appropriate home. Hopefully.

After taking pages of notes on what needed to be done to the house, we headed out on the long drive to Simon’s. Another problem with Lex’s place was that it was in the middle of nowhere, so far north of the city that we were practically in Wisconsin. On one hand, it was quiet and peaceful and on the Fox River. On the other, driving anywhere took forever, and I was uncomfortable living in a place that didn’t have sidewalks. I was used to having my next door neighbors being a few feet away, not a few hundred feet.

Back in civilization again, we stopped for milk at the Jewel in Westchester. After that it was a quick drive to Simon’s, and my hands were almost shaking with nervousness. My stomach fluttered as well, and I almost regretted the big breakfast, but I was still a firm believer that pancakes are a good idea, and bacon is always the answer. If nothing else, the fuel dramatically helped the last of my healing, and my aches and pains had almost disappeared. I assumed Zach was feeling all better. The closer we got to the city, the louder our connection became. I tried to block him out, but I knew that he knew something was up, and he was trying to figure it out. He even called me once, but I ignored it and turned my ringer off.

We turned in to Simon’s driveway, traveled through the trees of the creepy forest surrounding the place, and entered the clearing where his house loomed. The old Victorian used to look like a scene from
The Addams Family
, but now it was more like
Flip This House
. Instead of disrepair, there was renovation and restoration, thanks to Mac. As Simon’s new apprentice, Mac had the run of the house, and I knew from experience that Mac was picky about his decorating. Details about the décor could be important in the restaurant industry, as we’d learned in the café after a bad experience with some Pepto-Bismol-pink-paisley upholstery. Not only had it been hideous, but migraine inducing as well.

We rang the bell and Mac answered the door, a layer of drywall dust sprinkled over his head and shoulders. We exchanged greetings and hugs, and I handed him the plastic jug of milk. “Still working on the upstairs?”

“Yes, but I’m almost finished. Why do you ask?”

I brushed at his shoulder, and he sneezed at the cloud of dust. “You’ve got a bit of plaster on you.”

“Oh, right. Here, let me put this away and dust myself off, and I’ll take you down. Come look at the kitchen. It’s improved a lot since the last time you were here.”

A few months had passed since I first set foot in the lair of Simon St. Jerome, and the changes were jarring but encouraging. The kitchen was bright and sunny but cold in the late October chill, with new countertops, appliances, and flooring. Mac was dust-free when he rejoined us, and he led us down into the basement. The hidden door into Simon’s library was open, and we followed him inside. Simon was seated at his desk, working on something or other involving a book that might have been older than the city itself. He wasn’t wearing his dorky wizard robes but instead was wearing a long-sleeved, black dress shirt. Nice. Mac must have been a good influence on him. Good for Mac.

“Duquesne,” Simon greeted, nodding at Lex. “Catherine.”

“St. Jerome. You have news?” Lex asked.

“I do. If you’ll both have a seat. I’m afraid that this development is both good news and bad news, as they say.” His pale hands gestured for us to sit, and Mac stood next to my chair.

“How bad?” I asked. I was willing to bet that we had different definitions for bad, and his was worse than mine. If a vampire thought something was bad, it had to be pretty awful.

“I have managed to locate a ritual that can undo your spirit bond with young Mr. Harrison. Unfortunately, the only copy is kept within the library of Kristoff Valkyrie.”

I glanced at Lex, and he didn’t appear to recognize the name either. “And he is a vampire of some sort?” I guessed.

“No. He is a demon in the shadow realm who barters information with demons, summoners and master necromancers. He specializes in acquiring rare spells and magical artifacts, and his collection is most impressive.”

Lex swore, and I winced. That didn’t sound good.

“Will he deal with us?” Lex asked.

“Possibly, but a demon is likely to ask a price you won’t want to pay. You would be better off stealing the ritual, and I cannot help you with this. Doing so would overstep my bounds as a member of the Order. You’ll need to find another guide.”

“Okay. What’s the shadow realm?” I asked.

“It’s one of the hells, similar to the Gray,” Mac explained.

“Really? We have to go to hell to fix this? Great.” Rubbing my eyes, I cursed Harrison for the millionth time for forcing this stupid spell on me. Big, stupid billionaire jerk.

“It’s a lesser hell. Brimstone-free,” Simon commented with a slight smirk. “The shadow realm is actually quite neutral, as far as the hell dimensions are concerned. Not all of its inhabitants are evil.”

“Who do you suggest for a guide?” Lex asked.

The chronicler leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I would prefer that you not ask Emily for her aid in this.”

“Emily’s been to hell?” I asked, surprised. She seemed so nice.

“To the shadow realm. Many of us use it as a means to travel from one place to another on earth. Rather like using Faerie to travel,” Simon explained. “It is dangerous, but effective in a pinch.”

“I thought vampires can’t travel to other worlds. Not that you’re a vampire,” I corrected quickly. I knew he found the term offensive.

“To the worlds worth going to. The hell dimensions are fair game. Most are too dangerous to attempt. As I was saying, Emily could help you, but Michael would insist on accompanying her, and that would put him in the same predicament I would be.”

“Good point,” I said. I liked Emily—you had to like a woman who hit Zachary Harrison in the head with the brick concealed in her purse. I didn’t want to get her or her husband in trouble. “So who do you suggest?”

“A summoner would be ideal in this situation. As such, I recommend Patience.”

Lex growled. “Patience and I don’t exactly get along.”

I blinked, realizing that Patience was not a virtue but a person. I knew next to nothing about the local summoner community, and I had no idea who they were talking about.

“Ah yes. Didn’t she stab you once?” Simon asked, tilting his head to the side.

“She
stabbed
you?” I repeated, my jaw dropping.

“Only once. She’d had a real bad day. I let her slide,” Lex drawled.

“Patience Roberts is the best in the area. In fact she’s one of the best in the country. Also, she will be obligated to help you, as she is faerie-blooded,” Simon said.

“Really. What clan?” Lex asked.

“Fiera.”

“Figures,” Mac snorted. I glanced up at him for further explanation. I was getting better at recognizing the different faerie clans, but there were a whole lot of them. “They’re fire faeries. She’s hot-tempered.”

“Obviously, if she stabs guardians. I haven’t heard of her. Should I?”

“Only if you need a demon summoned,” Mac replied.

“I have enough trouble as it is,” I pointed out. Besides, I probably couldn’t afford to hire a summoner. They were a mercenary lot, like alchemists, selling their magic to the highest bidder. “If she’s good, she’s got to be expensive.”

“She is,” Lex agreed.

“Great.” I sighed, not thrilled by that idea.

“Speaking of the matter of payment,” Simon began, and I braced myself for the worst, “consider this information a gift to you both.”

“Whoa, really?” I’d been expecting an epic blood donation in return for the work Simon had put in on this project. Possibly even multiple epic blood donations, and here he was giving us a free pass.

He chuckled, sounding genuinely amused at my reaction. “I think it only proper to offer a gift to the new Titania and Oberon.”

“It is if you’re faerie-blooded,” Lex said.

Simon inclined his head slightly, and I wondered what clan he might be related to. Most magicians were faerie-blooded at some point or other in their family tree, thanks to a combination of frisky faeries and ambitious magicians. The dark red hair could hint at a fire faerie heritage, but not necessarily. He could even be a distant Silverleaf cousin, for all I knew.

“I am also grateful to you for introducing me to Maxwell. He is proving to be an excellent apprentice and will be a great asset to the Order.”

I glanced up at Mac, wondering what he thought of that, and he squeezed my shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Too bad I didn’t sign up sooner, when I had more hair,” he joked.

“You don’t have a hair replenishing spell somewhere around here?” I asked, glancing at the rows of bookshelves.

“No, though many have tried and failed,” Simon replied. “Now, unless you have any further questions, I believe Maxwell wishes to show you more of his improvements to the house upstairs.”

Chapter Four

Mac seemed happy, or at least happy enough, given his situation. I was still racked with guilt for putting him in said situation, and thus I was quiet on the drive back, until my cell phone started vibrating. It was Marie, so I answered it.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Where are you?”

“On 294, near O’Hare. Why? Please tell me this is about picking up dinner.”

“Nope, not this time. I need you to detour to Des Plaines. You’re practically here anyway.”

“Fine. Give me the address. I’ll put it into the GPS,” I replied. At least the million bells and whistles on Lex’s SUV came in handy. She gave me the address and I punched it in, and the calm, ladylike voice of the GPS directed us to get off at the next exit. After giving me a brief description of the house, Marie hung up.

“What’s wrong?” Lex asked.

“Marie wants us to meet her. She didn’t say why, but I’m assuming it’s bad.”

His jaw clenched as he nodded. Once we were off the expressway, we traveled down a series of busy commercial streets. Lots of strip malls, very little character. Finally we turned in to a neighborhood, and I found myself critiquing the area. Small, ranch-style houses lined curving streets with multiple expensive cars in their driveways. I wondered what the schools were like…but then again, if something awful had happened here, we probably didn’t want to add it to our list of possible places to move.