Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2) (31 page)

“Mrow?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” I hit the side of the pot with the spoon. The flames erupted underneath it as the clang echoed in the kitchen.

I started gathering items from of the cupboards. “Thistle thorns, oil, peppercorns, chicory, dandelion,” I listed off the ingredients as I found them. “Do you have any idea how much mistletoe that spell took? How much that cost me?” I asked Artemis.

I poured the oil into the heated pot, letting it come to a boil before adding the other ingredients. “Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble,” I sang, stirring the pot.

“Mmmrrow.” Artemis stretched long before jumping off the counter to curl up under the tiny kitchen table.

“Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.”

I rummaged through the cupboards again, coming up with a small bottle stopped with an eyedropper. When the potion bubbled with a noxious smell, I tapped the pot with the spoon again, extinguishing the flames. The bubbles died away quickly. Unscrewing the stopper, I dipped the eyedropper into the potion.

“Let’s see how the little toad likes
this
spell.” I twisted the cap onto the now-full bottle. Holding the little bottle up to the light, I shook it roughly and spoke the incantation, “
Pestis pestis vomica
. By the power of the moon and the light of the stars, for every lie spoken, mark his face with scars.”

I put the bottle in my messenger bag, slung the bag over my head, and snatched my keys. “Don’t wait up for me, Artie. Mama’s gonna be late tonight.”

The city had worked fast after the massacre in the park, rallying to throw a spur-of-the-moment gala to raise money for the injured and the families of the dead. I knew that was where I would find Fox, putting on a show for the donors. His wife would be there too, on his arm and smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world since she was married to such a perfect, honest man who worked for the little people. One would think Fox would be afraid of pissing me off since his wife could be so easily found. Maybe he figured his wife wouldn’t believe anything I said to her. Well, that was just fine; I wasn’t planning on doing any talking.

The gala was being thrown at the Esterwyn, a sign of good faith between the human politicians and supernaturals since the massacre was an attack on both and the Esterwyn was owned and operated by supernaturals. A pang of panic went through me when I realized I would probably see Theodora, and the possibility of Owen being her escort flashed through my mind.

“Oh freaking well,” I said, gripping the steering wheel until it squeaked. “I’m not staying long anyway.” I was just going to make an appearance. Once Fox saw me, I would be out of there in the blink of an eye. Tonight, of all nights, was not the time to worry about Theo and Owen.

I took the valet ticket from the boy in front of the hotel and asked him not to park my car too far away because I wouldn’t be staying long. I slipped him a twenty, hoping that was enough to get him to do what I asked.

I wasn’t dressed for a gala, not by a long shot. My leather boots, jeans, and leather jacket would stand out like a sore thumb, but that was kind of what I wanted. I wanted Fox to spot me. I wanted him to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was seeing me. If I’d worn some fancy schmancy dress, he might pretend he was seeing things and convince himself it wasn’t me. I wanted him to know that what happened to him at that gala was because of me.

I didn’t try to go through the main doors into the ballroom. I knew full well I didn’t have an invitation and wasn’t dressed to blend in, so I walked along the halls until I found the service entrance to the kitchens. I darted through the gleaming stainless steel counters, crowded with dozens of white and black jackets of cooks and servers, until I found the back door to the ballroom.

Anyone who was anyone in Southern California was there. Mayors from every city, celebrities, politicians from Washington, rich people who were so rich no one knew who they were, and the few lucky nobodies who’d gotten invited. And standing among them was one very pissed off witch.

I moved along the wall, keeping out of the way of waiters with heavy trays and clusters of glitterati as I made my way to the open bar. One waiter passed me with a tray full of crystal champagne flutes, and I managed to pluck a glass for myself. The waiter didn’t even break his stride when the weight of his tray shifted.

At the bar, I sat on one of the high stools, leaning one elbow on the bar and sipping casually from my glass. The champagne was the most wonderful thing I’d ever tasted in my short life. I didn’t even want to know how much it cost.

As if I had a homing device installed in Fox’s head, I wasn’t sitting there for more than two minutes before my eyes landed right on his stupid face. He was smiling broadly with his stupid teeth, shaking hands with someone. His wife on his arm, smiling at the people around them. Her eyes were glassy and her smile forced, as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world just then.

“Can I help you?” a voice asked from over my shoulder.

I turned in my seat to see the bartender standing behind me. I expected him to look angry, knowing on sight that I wasn’t supposed to be there, but he smiled at me as if I was anyone else in the room. He lifted his brows expectantly, waiting for me to answer him.

“Don’t you hate these things?” I asked, having to lift my voice to be heard over the music of the string orchestra at the front of the room and the din of conversation all around us.

The bartender chuckled and nodded. He had a good smile—white, flat teeth but not so many that his mouth looked crowded, like Fox’s. His lips were full and pink, and his blue eyes were dark with rings of gray around the pupils. He leaned on his forearms, putting him much closer to me, and I caught the delicate whiff of his cologne.

“Yeah, all the money in the world and half of them never tip, no matter how many drinks they order,” he said with a sideways nod at his tip jar. It was only a quarter of the way full despite the fact that the gala had been going for over an hour.

“Jerks,” I said, earning a nod and another smile. I set my flute on the bar and leaned closer, putting our faces inches apart. “How would you like to make up for some of your lost income?”

I lifted one eyebrow and watched as the gray in his eyes flashed, letting me know he was
other
, just like me. With a tiny nod, he agreed.

“All I need you to do is add an extra shot to a drink when it’s ordered,” I said, digging the vial out of my pocket. I laid it on the bar and slid it to him. He picked it up and examined it as I slid a hundred-dollar bill across the bar.

He eyed the bill. “Whose drink are we spiking?”

“Dixon Fox,” I spat.

“Fox?” He chuckled again. “That guy has stiffed me all damn night. I’d do it for free.”

“Oh, well, then…” I made to reach for the folded bill, but he snatched it up with inhuman speed.

“But I’ll keep my mouth shut for this.” He held up the bill before tucking it into his shirt pocket.

“Great. Just be careful he’s the only one who gets it, okay?”

He nodded and slipped the vial into his pocket. “He’s getting a refill pretty much every half hour on the half hour, so he’ll be around in about fifteen minutes. No worries.”

“Thanks,” I said, picking up my glass and spinning around in my chair, putting my back to the bar to survey the crowd. My eyes fell on Fox’s face almost immediately. I willed him to turn, to make eye contact with me so I could get the hell out of this place.

Standing just behind Fox and to the side was Edwin, looking as blank as a statue, the poor bastard. I wondered if the job was worth the connections he was making. Probably not. Edwin blinked and tilted his head from side to side, as if trying to work out a cramp in his neck. His glasses flashed as they caught the light, but when he shifted, I could see his eyes again. I realized he had spotted me at the bar.

I nodded at him and saw the corner of his mouth twitch as he fought a smile. Fox turned to say something to Edwin, but when he didn’t respond, Fox turned to see what his assistant was looking at. When Fox’s eyes met mine, I smiled. Not too big and not too cocky, just a small, closed-lip smile. I lifted my half-empty glass in salute. Fox’s brows drew together momentarily as he tried to figure out who I was. Clearly I was so beneath him, he’d already forgotten me. How many people did this jackass screw over on a daily basis? I was definitely not voting for him again.

I saw the realization dawn on him when Fox’s face transformed into a look of shocked surprise. The color drained from his face, and his eyebrows crawled up his forehead. I nodded again, as if to say, “Yes, you demon spawn, I’m the witch you screwed over, and no, I’m not letting it go.”

I drained the rest of my champagne in one large swallow and hopped off the stool. I strode through the room to the front doors, refusing to slink out the back. I felt Fox’s eyes on my back as I hit the doors to the lobby, so I made sure to keep my chin held high and my eyes forward.

I had to fight the desire to double-check with the bartender, to make sure he didn’t forget our deal, but I didn’t want to give anything away to Fox. I just had to trust that Fox had offended the guy enough that he wouldn’t forget.

Now I had to get across town to the human side and get into Fox’s apartment.

I had thought about slipping the note in my bag to Fox at the gala, but I was afraid he’d have me arrested right then and there for threatening him. Then I would risk the bartender’s freedom too, and I couldn’t do that.

So I pulled up in front of the skyscraper Fox lived in. I saw the doorman waiting in the drizzling rain and hated Fox all the more. I’d never even stayed at a hotel nice enough for a doorman, and this guy had one at his apartment building? But he couldn’t pay me for my work?

“Bullshit,” I muttered, earning a look from the doorman as he held open the door for me.

The lobby of the apartment building looked nothing like mine. Mine was tarnished and fading, but this one was bright and shining and full of fresh flowers. Discreet signs directed people to the gym, the lounge, and the business center. It was ridiculous. I fought the rising anger inside me and tried to walk normally to the elevator. I wasn’t surprised to see an attendant inside the gilded box.

“Floor, ma’am?” the elevator attendant asked as I walked on.

I cringed. “You know, you’d get better tips if you just called every woman ‘Miss.’”

The attendant blinked at me, a little frightened.

“Ugh, the penthouse, please,” I added grudgingly.

“I’m sorry, you have to have a pass for the penthouse,” he replied meekly.

“Oh, right, here you go.” I pulled out a handful of memory dust and blew it in his face.

His features went slack, all recognition gone from his eyes. I reached past him and pushed the button for myself. I tipped him when I stepped off, slipping the dollar into his jacket pocket.

I strode up to Fox’s French doors and knocked loudly, another handful of dust in my hand. When the butler opened the door, I was ready for him. Stepping past the stunned man, I went straight for the bedroom.

It was obvious which nightstand was Fox’s and which was his wife’s. On one was expensive hand cream, tissues, and a romance novel, and the other held nothing but an abandoned cell phone charger. I went to the empty nightstand and set down the small lavender envelope. Fox’s name shimmered faintly in the half light of the quiet bedroom. I turned to leave, fighting the urge to break something valuable on my way out.

I patted the butler’s shoulder as I passed him. He was slouched against the wall, blinking slowly. I hadn’t given him a big enough dose to knock him out, just enough to daze him.

“I got the door, hon,” I said, grabbing the silver doorknob and pulling the door closed behind me. I thought I heard him mutter something, but it was lost behind the heavy wood. I didn’t care if he remembered what I looked like—as a matter of fact, I hoped he would. I wanted him to tell Fox that a woman with short black hair and a leather jacket had been there. I wanted Fox to know he wasn’t untouchable, especially when he screwed with someone like me.

***

The next morning, I was curled up on the couch under my grandmother’s afghan, with Artemis purring away on my lap and a steaming cup of coffee in my hand. I watched the local news channel talking about the success of the gala the night before and all the money that had been raised for the families of the injured.

“Wonder how much more they would’ve raised if they had taken the money it cost to put on that damn party and just given it to the families,” I said.

“Mrrrow,” Artemis agreed.

My phone vibrated on the coffee table for the twentieth time. So far I had ten voice mail messages, but I was ignoring every single one of them. When I’d gotten home from my little field trip, I only had to wait three hours for the first call. I recognized Edwin’s number but chose to ignore it and finish my dinner. By the time I was dressed for bed and the sun was rising, I knew my phone wouldn’t stop ringing, so I made a pot of coffee and decided to stay up. With every passing hour, Fox was becoming more and more
uncomfortable
.

Because I’d stayed awake, I got to see the first clip of Fox rushing out of the gala before anyone else. His face was covered in large, red, pulsating pustules. He was trying to hide his face with his arm as he barreled through the doors, running through the hotel and out to the cars. Edwin and Mrs. Fox were rushing after him, but Edwin was fighting a smile as he went. Now the local news was playing that clip every fifteen minutes. As soon as the clip hit the airwaves, the phone calls had increased from every half hour to every five minutes.

“Can’t give me what you owe me over the phone, dummy,” I said to my phone, shaking my head and refusing to pick it up. I tucked the blanket around my legs and pulled Artie against me, enjoying the warmth. It was still raining, and the clouds had turned white and gray with the sun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been awake in the middle of a morning storm. It was kind of nice.