Charmed & Dangerous (15 page)

The sheik and Maridad?

No one wanted to leave the party, but with the early flight, we had to go a little after midnight. I obviously break the rules when it comes to getting involved with clients, but I take the rules of flying seriously and I needed my beauty sleep.

As I sit here watching the sheik dictate a business proposal to Maridad, it’s hard to imagine the man in the blue pin-striped suit and starched collar as the same guy in jeans and T-shirt with ranchero sauce on his chin last night.

He looked up at me a few minutes ago and my stomach fluttered with the wings of a million butterflies. Then he winked at me and smiled.

Geez. I wish he wouldn’t do things like that. It makes me all confused.

And if Maridad is in love with the sheik then all bets are off. I can’t even think about it.

There are so many other things I need to be worried about, like keeping the PM and Azir alive over the next few weeks. Both men are in serious danger, something I sensed yesterday, and it all centers in Brussels.

Monday, 1
P.M
.

Brussels

Ghost hunters: 1

A
zir is seriously into castles. This time we are on the side of a mountain looking down over Brussels in a home that was built in the fifteenth century. We’re talking drawbridge with a moat. Insane. But very, very cool.

I don’t know who owns this spread, but there are about twenty politicos hanging full-time and there’s still plenty of room.

My room is almost a duplicate of the one I had in Oslo. Dark velvet draperies and a huge bed so tall I need a step stool to get into it. There are strange tapestries of not-so-pleasant battle scenes on every wall. Gives the feeling that the owner has a boner for war.

The history of the place smacks you in the face at every turn.

But it’s weird. I’m having déjà vu so much I have trouble figuring out what reality I’m supposed to be in. When I walked through the huge wooden doors of the castle I knew exactly where the kitchen, dining rooms, and everything else was located. Never have I experienced such a connection with a place.

Everything is so strange that I called Garnout for wizardly advice and he’s checking into my past-life history.

“Sometimes when you intuitively know a place, it’s an indication that you’ve visited either through astral projection or in a past life,” Garnout told me. I could tell he was busy helping customers. The cash register dinged and once in a while he’d pull the phone away and in a hushed voice say, “Please come back and see us again.”

“If you’re busy we can do this later.” I touched one of the tapestries and closed my eyes. The battle had taken place only a few miles from here. The smell of horses and blood…so strong…and a feeling of extreme dread. The bile rose and my stomach tightened in pain.

“Bronwyn?” His voice pulled me from the void.

“Sorry, Garnout.”

“Yes, well, good to have you back. Now if you can stay with me a few minutes and let me get some details I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and you must be careful while you’re there.”

“What’s going on? I’m slipping back and forth into something that feels like memories. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.” I moved to the window to look out on the cliffs of white snow. Brussels was warmer than Oslo, but still cold.

I remembered peering out this window before and begging for springtime. Argh! Too weird.

He cleared his throat, which told me he knew I had drifted off again. “My guess is the place is tied to a past life or to one of your ancestors. These things do get passed down, but only a few of us have the capacity to tune into them.

“If I’m right, you may experience memories as if they are reality. You’ll also have a stronger sense of the dead. Most of those old European castles are teeming with ghosts.”

I could hear him flipping pages in a book.

“Do you feel displaced—right place but wrong time perhaps?”

“That’s exactly what it feels like. And you’re right about the spirits. There are many throughout the castle. The weird part is there’s no negative charge that usually comes with a ghost. This is more like leftover auras walking around. I know it’s impossible, but…”

“No, not impossible at all. Again, my dear, I stress that you must be very careful. Before leaving your room, do a clarifying spell that keeps you in the present. Sounds as if we are dealing with a combination of magic—”

He placed his hand over the phone, but I heard him.

“Oh, really. Young man, please put that down. That sphere is filled with blood magic and you’ll die a terrible death if it should happen to break. Thank you. I believe”—I could hear the rustle of Garnout’s robes as he raised his arm to do a spell—“you’ve accidentally found yourself in the wrong place. Please allow me to assist you to the door. You’ll remember nothing of this place or its contents. Be gone.” I heard the door shut and the bell tinkle.

I laughed. Some numbskull had obviously wandered into the shop by mistake. Any idiot knows you don’t touch a Garion sphere unless you’re trying to kill a Kalmak demon.

“My apologies.”

“No problem.” I glanced at my watch. “Thanks for the help, but I’ve got to go. I need to get things ready for our visitors. If you find something, give me a call.”

“Be aware that someone may be using magic to cause you harm there.” His voice was more serious than usual. “You’ve been up against some powerful magic and someone like that could have researched your past lives as I’m about to do. Information like that, in the wrong hands, can be extremely dangerous. You must protect yourself.”

I don’t talk about it much, but I envy Garnout’s ability to travel through time, into the spirit world, and pretty much wherever he wants to go. It’s one of the big perks of being a wizard.

We rang off and I did a quick clarifying spell to protect me from other magic and to keep my head clear of the past.

Had a lot of things to get ready. Gave the sheik and PM brand-new charms and used Malandro’s protection spell.

But there’s one big problem: Someone else used magic here, recently, within the walls of the castle.

As we drove through Brussels, I had felt the magic emanating from several sources. Nothing negative, but every now and then I sensed a glimmer of something powerful. Tugged at me. About the time I sensed it, the source dissipated.

The closer we moved toward the castle the more intense the magic felt. Perhaps the witch or warlock is here. I’m so tired; wish I could grab a nap, but no time. Have to—

4
P.M
.

Pissed-off witches: 1

Someone’s screwing with me in a big way. I passed out for almost three hours. Woke up stretched across the bed with my clothes on, holding a man’s jacket in my hands. Some kind of tuxedo jacket but from way back. Smells like Grandma Erma’s closet. A cross of mothballs and lilac cologne.

I’d still be asleep if nerdy Miles hadn’t barged in.

“Bronwyn, I’ve banged on the door for two minutes. What the hell?”

“Miles?”

“Don’t you know we have guests coming? I thought you needed hours to do all of that magic crap.” He walked into the room like he owned it and tilted that head with a disgusted smirk on his face.

“I must have fallen asleep. Get over it, Miles. I’m running on empty as it is. Haven’t had more than about twelve hours’ sleep over three days.” That must be it—my body just gave out. Thanks to the sheik’s visit to Sweet and my troubles with Sam, I hadn’t had much rest. Most nights were spent wondering why I’d found myself in this situation with two men.

“We could all do with more rest, but this is an important party tonight and everything must be perfect.” He flitted around the room. “If the prime minister’s plan goes awry, all hell will break loose.”

I pulled up to my knees on the tall bed and towered over him. “What plan?”

His eyes rounded and lips tightened. The squirrel had said too much.

“What fucking plan, Miles?” I gave him my evil witch stare and he rolled his eyes. Asshole. That usually works on nerds like him.

“If the prime minister wanted you to be privy to the information, he would have told you.” When he stepped away from the bed, I knew he was afraid I’d physically harm him. At least he’d been a little scared.

“Let’s put it this way, panda bait, either you tell or I go to the PM and spill that you let me in on the game.”

He didn’t like that ultimatum at all and pushed his curly brown hair away from his forehead. His face scrunched into an ugly grimace. The PM wouldn’t appreciate Miles sharing state secrets, but that wasn’t my problem.

“I’ll only tell you that he and the sheik have invited three power brokers who have much to lose if Azir declines their offer.” He picked an invisible hair from his sleeve and headed to the door.

“You try to pass through that door before you tell me everything and I’ll turn you into a fluffy poodle with sassy pink bows in your hair.” He’d probably like the damn bows, but he stopped in his tracks.

A brass paperweight from the end table zoomed across the room and landed an inch from Miles’s foot.

“Now, there’s no need for violence, Bronwyn.” He paled.

“I didn’t do it.”

His wide brown eyes toured my face to see if he could believe me. “Then who did?”

“Don’t know, but it looks like I’ve got a friendly ghost hanging out with me, and he or she wants you to spill your guts.”

After that, Miles couldn’t tell me fast enough. Seems the PM and Azir had set these power brokers up because they believed one of them was working with the cousin. The PM’s security staff found a paper trail from the redhead in his office that led to the three men. It was possible they were all involved.

Probed the house for a witch or warlock and found three on the premises. Yes, this could be an interesting evening and I might be able to speed along this plan of Azir and the PM’s with a little magic and catch myself a bad guy.

Almost midnight

Bad guys: Too many

Not sure how much I helped the sheik and PM tonight. I had my own power struggles with the magical community. During cocktails I positioned myself near my charges. The event took place in the library, a large room filled from floor to ceiling with books. The ornate wood and brass accents gave the room a warm and cozy feeling, but that didn’t last long.

Before I had a chance to take a sip of my fizzy water, two warlocks approached.

The taller of the two had beady black eyes that were nowhere close to friendly, and his charcoal black hair with a silver streak had been smoothed back into a ponytail. He introduced himself. “I am Wallace; I wish you no harm.”

Wally the Warlock. Oh, please.

When I shook his hand I felt the power emanating from him. He didn’t try to push his magic onto me, but his strength was palpable. He reminded me of someone I’d met before, but he didn’t act like he knew me. Strange.

I turned to the other man.

Rotund would be a nice way of describing this basketball with a head and legs. A small amount of power, but enough to do damage. “I am Sphere; I wish you no harm.”

“Happy to meet you both. I am Bronwyn. Are both of you here protecting someone?” The pair of them looked like Laurel and Hardy.

“Don’t believe either one of them—they lie as easily as they breathe,” a familiar female voice said behind them.

“Lesha, what are you doing here? And how is your brother?” I reached out and she clasped my hand. Her long dress fitted sensually to her perfect form.

“He’s still in a coma but my family looks after him.” She stared at the floor for a second and then met my eyes. “I’m still grateful you didn’t kill him when you could have in Oslo. And I’m here for the same reason as you, to protect a charge.” She let go of my hand.

“These two disreputable characters are here for protection, but you shouldn’t turn your back on them.” She motioned toward the two men.

“I for one resent your implications that we are here for any other purpose than the safety of our charges,” Sphere whispered indignantly to Lesha.

Back and forth they went with the insults until we were called in to dinner. I noticed Wally didn’t say much, but his eyes darted around the room every time Power Broker One—John Stamon, the owner of Stamon Enterprises—moved.

He also kept an eye on the prime minister and Azir. I didn’t like Wally. Something smarmy about him, but I didn’t see him as much of a threat.

Sphere’s charge, Power Broker Two—Sheik Kamar—seemed a likely suspect for our bad guy of the week. More than once I caught him in the middle of a heated discussion with Azir.

Lesha’s client, international financier Paul Nash, treated her more like a date. He led her into the dining room and arranged for her to sit next to him.

I was so busy keeping up with the magical folk that I had little time to get involved with my own charges’ plans. Whatever maneuvering they did seemed to work. When the evening was over and we headed upstairs, they both smiled and whispered to each other like schoolboys.

I’m a bit cranky over the fact that neither of them has bothered to share a word with me about what they tried to accomplish. If it hadn’t been for Miles, who was conspicuously absent tonight, I wouldn’t even know what they were up to.

I’ve made my own list of suspects, and I have a feeling Wally may be my dissipating warlock in Dubai. His hair is a slightly different color of black but he could have used a glamour spell to change it. And I think he’s holding back on his powers.

Sphere’s a blowhard. I’m not sure what his game is, but he’s up to no good. One thing I did discover is that the two warlocks aren’t working together. They fought constantly at dinner, throwing out innuendos and cutting remarks. There’s a competition between them, but I’m not sure what it is.

Lesha on the other hand kept to herself and didn’t join in the fray. Once in a while she’d catch my eye and smile. I don’t trust her exactly, but she’s low on my list of suspects. She did try to save my life in Oslo.

That creepy feeling that someone watches me constantly is something I can’t get used to. I’m sure it’s a spirit, but who knows? Checked my voice mail to see if Garnout had any news, but he didn’t leave a message.

Did hear from Sam, who said he missed me and that Mr. Gunther felt better. That’s the best news I’ve had all day.

No one claimed the old tuxedo jacket when I took it downstairs. This is so weird. I put it on the back of the chair while I’m writing. The smell is familiar, but I can’t place it.

Aack! Chill on my spine. The presence is here again and damn—