Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel (11 page)

Chewing my lip, I stood back a few feet, realizing I had let my imagination get away from me and hadn’t come up with a feasible excuse to approach the group of blood suckers. Go me.

“Can we help you?” one of the boys at the end of the curved bench seat asked. I blinked at him, feeling heat rush to my pale cheeks, making the two girls in the booth titter at my embarrassment. The boy who’d spoken to me arched one brown brow at me. He had warm honey brown eyes. The light of life hadn’t gone out of them yet – it probably wouldn’t for another fifty years or so of being undead. He had a kind face, his cheekbones were soft and curvy, not sharp and dangerous like you expected of a vampire dressed head to toe in black. At least he wasn’t wearing eyeliner.

“I, uh,” I stammered, still having no idea how to go about this.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves another groupie,” one of the tittering girls said. She appeared to be the youngest turned of the group. She’d spray painted her hair a fire engine red, which made her pale blond eyebrows nearly disappear on her tiny face. She’d applied so much black eye shadow and eyeliner that it looked like she’d rubbed charcoal on her face. Rather than making her look dark and alluring like she hoped it would, it made her eyes seem tiny and beady like a rat’s. Her black lips were curled in a sneer and that made it easier to ignore her snide comments.

“Not a groupie, no,” I said, finally finding my voice.

“Then what’s up?” the first boy pressed. When I looked at him, the stitch that had formed in my chest eased and I was sure I could talk to him, that he’d be the one to listen.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” I said, the lie coming easily to my lips. “She went missing a few days ago and I think maybe she…” I made a small wave in their direction, letting them fill in the blanks.

“Went on a picnic?” the second girl asked, making her cohort burst out laughing.

“Yeah, went on a picnic,” I shot back with an eye roll before turning my attention back to Brown Eyes. “Anyway, I thought maybe you could help me?”

“Why would we do that?” This came from the boy closest to me, who was facing Brown Eyes. He had a high forehead and a prominent nose, and I wondered if in another life, he had been a bird. His blond hair was almost white and was slicked back, nearly plastered to his head. His eyes were a piercing grey and something told me it would be less than fifty years before the spark of life faded in them. There was just something about him that said he was always meant to be part of the undead.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly with a shrug. “But I figured it didn’t hurt to ask.”

“It might hurt,” Charcoal said, leaning toward the table as if she would intimidate me.

“Enough, Georgie,” Brown Eyes said with a small hand motion, pushing her back into her seat. I couldn’t help my smirk at her name; it wasn’t exactly what you expected a vampire to be named. Georgie caught my smirk and I saw the flicker of hate blossom in her beady little eyes. Brown Eyes turned his attention back to me. “What’s your name?”

“Mattie,” I said, figuring it would be stupid to lie about that.

“Well, Mattie,” Brown Eyes said, sliding out of the booth to stand and hold his hand out to me, “I’m Fletcher.”

“Hi,” I said lamely, giving him my hand to shake. He was much taller than I anticipated, but when I saw the massive boots he was wearing, I understood why. They were shiny black latex with silver buckles all the way up to his knees and three inch platform soles. I had to crane my head back to look him in the face.

“Hello,” he replied with a crooked smile. I noticed his canines were well hidden, which was impressive for one so young. When I looked back at the others at the table, both girls were glaring at me and I could see the tiny points of their fangs pressing into their bottom lips. I pulled my eyes away from them, not wanting to goad them anymore.

“So, do you think you could help me?” I asked Fletcher. It was a good name for a vamp, but I kind of liked Brown Eyes better.

“Perhaps. Please…” He placed a hand on my back and gestured with the other toward the door. I turned and led the way out. Outside, the heavy mist had turned into real rain. I was just happy that it was a slow rain with small drops, but in an hour or so, it would probably get worse. I pulled the hood of my jacket up over my head to protect my hair. I turned to face Fletcher and watched as he lit a cigarette and slid the silver case back into his trench coat pocket.

“So you think your friend has been turned?” he asked, squinting at me through the smoke.

“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s just as possible that she’s just become someone’s pet.”

“Ah,” he said, expelling another stream of smoke.

“Look, I know you’re not supposed to, but do you think you could…” I paused for effect, glancing around us to make sure we were alone. “Do you think you could take me to the lair to look for her?”

Fletcher stared down at me, absentmindedly flicking ash to the side before he took another drag. I was happy of the extreme height difference between us then since it was the only thing keeping the smoke out of my face.

“How do you know she’d be at our lair?” he finally asked.

“Because she lives around here,” I said. Each major city had its own lair with one vampire as the master. There could be dozens of makers, anyone over a hundred could turn people, but they all answered to the one and only master. In Los Angeles County, that master was Theo.

“Couldn’t have been someone from out of town?”

“I don’t think so,” I said with a shake of my head. “She’s been going to the Noir.” The Noir Bar was the neighborhood vampire hangout.

“Ah,” Fletcher said again with a nod. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, putting out the still glowing cherry. “All right,” he said, dispelling the last puff of smoke, “but you have to promise to do what I say.”

“I promise,” I said, putting a little excitement in my voice to keep up the act.

“What you have to understand is people don’t just come into the lair, right?” Fletcher said. “Only pets and initiates are allowed in if they aren’t vamps, right?”

“Right.”

“So you’re going to have to pose as my pet.”

I couldn’t help but swallow then and it wasn’t part of the act. Pets were basically walking juice boxes for vampires; most had thought I was Owen’s pet because it was rare for vampires to have real relationships with mortals. My hand moved up to the knot of my scarf, reassuring myself that it was still secured.

“You can keep that,” Fletcher said. “Better to have it anyway. It’ll hide any evidence that we’re faking it. But if we gotta prove it…” He let his sentence trail off with a one-shouldered shrug.

“I get it,” I said, jamming my hands in my pockets again.

“Let’s get out of here before my friends come out. I don’t think Georgie liked you much, so she’d probably blow our cover.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing into the restaurant through the foggy window. His friends were still in the booth, acting disinterested and detached, except Georgie. Georgie was glaring at me, and even at this distance, I could feel the heat of her stare. My only regret was leaving those two pancakes and three sausage links behind.

“Let’s go,” Fletcher said, proffering his arm. I eyed it as if afraid it would suddenly turn into some fanged snake and attack me. “Gotta keep up appearances, Mattie.” He was right, of course. So with a sigh, I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm and let him lead me to his car. I was just happy it wasn’t a motorcycle. I just had to hope I’d picked the right mark and I was going to get out of this alive. If I was wrong, and Fletcher wasn’t the kind of guy I thought he was, I was going willingly into the lion’s den with steaks dangling around my neck.

“Please don’t let this be as stupid as it feels right now,” I whispered after Fletcher closed my door. When he slammed his door and put the car into gear it was too late to back out.

Chapter 7

The drive was surprisingly short, but our destination was more than a little surprising. Fletcher turned into the underground parking lot of the Esterwyn Hotel, smack dab in the middle of Beverly Hills, and parked in an assigned space along the back wall of the first floor. I hadn’t expected to leave Hollywood, let alone drive to Beverly Hills.

“Seriously?” I asked, turning halfway in my seat to look at Fletcher.

“What?”

“The Esterwyn, really? A corporate hotel? In Beverly Hills?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of hiding in plain sight?” Fletcher waggled his brows at me before reaching for the door handle. I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait, I gotta ask you…” I took my hand back when he turned to look at me. The garage was dimly lit and the only light on in the car was from the radio on the dashboard that hadn’t shut off yet. My throat felt suddenly tight in the confined space and Fletcher seemed that much closer to me.

“Yes?” he prompted when I didn’t go on.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, watching his face carefully, but either he wasn’t planning on lying to me or he was very good at keeping his face schooled.

“You’re asking me now?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.

“Yeah, probably should’ve asked you while we were in public,” I said, sinking down into my seat. “But seriously, you don’t even know me. You could get into serious trouble bringing me here.”

“No, I could get killed bringing you here,” he corrected me. It was very difficult to swallow then.

“So then why?”

“My little sister, Max,” he said, his voice catching on the name. “When she was fifteen, she was taken by a werewolf. I didn’t find her in time.”

“Oh,” I said softly, words failing me.

“She was running around with the pack, you know, going to the races with them, drinking, doing all the shit the young pups like to do,” he said. His eyes slid past me to look sightlessly out the passenger window over my shoulder. “After a while, she decided she wanted to join the pack.”

“Oh gods.” I closed my eyes. I didn’t want him to go on. I could read the story on his face. Most Weres were born; very few were ever made because the process was so violent that most people died from it. I couldn’t imagine a fifteen-year-old girl surviving something like that.

“My parents didn’t believe me that she’d do something like that, you know?” He continued on despite my hopes that he would stop. “After she was missing for two days, they started to believe me. But I mean, we were human, you know? What could my parents do to a pack of Weres? I tried to find her, I tried to get someone in the pack to help me, or at least tell me where I could find her. The third night she was missing was the night of the full moon. When I didn’t find her by sunrise, I knew, one way or the other, I was too late.”

We sat there in silence for a few moments, him never blinking and unseeing, me reeling in my seat. I felt like shit for lying to him. He’d just shared something horribly personal with me all based on a lie. I licked my lips and steeled myself, but before I opened my mouth to confess the truth, Fletcher’s eyes shifted to my face and his nostrils flared.

“You lied to me?” he whispered. That deadly tone crawled up my spine and gripped me by the back of my neck. I nodded slowly, feeling the prick of tears surface. I blinked them back and swallowed.

“I’m sorry, there’s no friend here,” I said in a harsh whisper, not sounding like myself at all. “Theo, she may have kidnapped someone, and if she did, I have to get them back. Otherwise, I’ll be killed.”

Fletcher stared at me with hard eyes, his pupils having widened until the brown was nearly black. I could feel the pull of those depths; long before his first fifty years, he was going to be a very powerful vampire. I was just happy being a witch made me immune to his vampire wiles, not that his inhuman strength couldn’t do me serious damage. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to remain quiet while Fletcher weighed my words, tasted their truth by my scent, decided whether or not I was stupid enough to lie to him again.

“Who has she kidnapped?” he finally asked.

“Roane of Dunhallow.”

“The prince?” He blinked in surprise, the iris of his eyes growing.

“The very one,” I nodded. “If she has him, I have to get him back.”

“The Lord and Lady blame you?”

“They do.”

“Why?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” I said with a shake of my head and wave of my hand. “They just do. And they’ve taken Owen as collateral.”

“Theo’s Owen?” Fletcher blanched, but his words struck me somewhere in the middle.
Theo’s Owen
, not
my Owen
. Heat rushed up my neck and crept up my face and I had to take a minute to breathe past the rage.

“Oh,” Fletcher said with a small smile. “I see.”

“You see what?” I snapped.

“He was yours once.”

“Look,” I said, closing my eyes and praying for strength. “Now you know the real deal, okay? Are you still gonna help me or what?”

“Pretty sure you’re already here,” Fletcher said.

“Right,” I said. “But are you gonna let me go in?”

“It’s a public place. I can’t stop you.”

“Thanks,” I said. I grabbed my bag from the floorboard and pushed open my door. I was just slinging my bag over my head and shoulder, nudging the car door shut with my hip when Fletcher was in front of me, only the flapping of his trench coat betraying him.

“Frogs!” I cursed, my hand flying to my chest. “Why do you people have to do that shit?”

“Dramatic effect.” He grinned down at me. “Listen, you’re not gonna find the entrance to the lair without help, and even if by some twisted miracle you did, you won’t be let in without an escort.”

“Are you offering?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips as I stared up at him. Fletcher took a step closer, placing the long line of his body entirely too close to mine. I didn’t take a step back. I didn’t want to show him fear; it only made them hungry.

“What else do I have to do tonight?” he asked in a low, rough voice, making me swallow again. He held out his arm again and, after one last pause, I took it.

***

The Esterwyn was the city’s nicest hotel and not one I ever found myself setting foot in. I adjusted my bag with my free hand and tugged on the ends of my jacket, making sure it was straight.