Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser Series) (8 page)

And then, gradually, as I tried to not notice the tiny beads of sweat accumulating in the small of Hudson’s back, I relaxed further into the poses. My muscles loosened and my mind eased. By the time we rolled down into our final resting pose, the corpse pose — the wolves on either side in perfect unison with me — I was happy I’d taken the class, and not even remotely worried about the werewolves stalking me. I was quite sure wolves didn’t do yoga with someone they were planning to maim.

Ten minutes later, I rolled to my side to find Hudson unabashedly watching me. The teacher’s hands fluttered to her chest to bid us, “Namaste.” She seemed more revved up by Hudson than she was by having taught the class. I wondered if he’d been staring at me like that for some time.

As I stepped back to roll up my mat, Hudson leaned across to whisper in my ear. “And I thought you were beautiful last night, all done up and underneath the lights. I see I was too quick to judge. I’ll take your cheeks naturally pink and your body relaxed after a yoga class any day, all day.”

I laughed, softly, as I straightened to tuck my rolled mat against my hip. I’d placed my blade, still concealed in its invisible sheath, at the top edge of my mat but I felt no need for it now. Who knew that wolves liked to flirt so? The
Compendium
had indicated they were separatists by nature, preferring the company of their own kind and rarely cooperating with others, especially witches. But then, some books don’t age well, and the witches’ bias was pretty clear even to someone as ill read as I was.

“So what do we do after yoga class?” Hudson asked, the energy practically sparking off his skin. I figured wolves would probably find more use in a kick boxing class — or three — than a hatha yoga class.

“I go back to work.” I turned and headed out the classroom, though not quickly or dismissively even though I totally should have. I swayed my hips, rolling heel-toe on my feet — just a little, proud of my straight back and curves.

Hudson padded after me all the way to the change room. Perhaps a little like a wolf moves through a forest, but I didn’t feel like prey.

“Kandy,” Hudson murmured to the green-haired wolf as I crossed by her to grab my runners.

“Kandy?” I asked in disbelief, belatedly thinking I probably shouldn’t make fun of wolves. She just flashed her teeth at me in that non-smile and nodded her head in Hudson’s direction.

As Hudson pulled on his shirt, I — along with every other person in the change room — tried to hide my disappointment. By his smile, I was unsuccessful. Like Kandy, he wore flip-flops, but they looked odd on his manly feet somehow. He checked his phone, then seemed to dismiss Kandy with a nod. The green haired woman left and I followed her out.

I paused as I hit the street and looked up the block toward the bakery. It looked busy from this angle. Kandy cut through the crowded sidewalk in that direction, never knocking shoulders with anyone, though she was moving swiftly. I also didn’t see the vampire anywhere.
 

I hesitated. I checked my phone … no text reply from Sienna yet. I sent another message, though her silence wasn’t yet unusual. I needed to go back to the bakery. I needed to nap, actually, but I wouldn’t. I would chat with the customers and give broken cupcakes and cookies to the kids …

“So … coffee,” Hudson said, his voice indicating how close he was behind me. He’d followed me out of the yoga studio but hadn’t turned after Kandy. The crowd parted around him — around us, actually — without protest, when normally these sidewalks would eat casual pedestrians alive on a Sunday. Vancouver wasn’t a massive city by a long shot, with only two million people give or take. But West Fourth Avenue — at least these few blocks — was a weekend hub. Shopping for just about anything, as well as a Starbucks or two, sushi, Greek, greasy breakfast to high-end bistros filled these five blocks east to west.

“I don’t drink coffee,” I answered by rote, because I didn’t actually drink it and never liked to pretend.

“Juice smoothie, then. I think the place on the corner does them.” Yes, Whole Foods made six-dollar smoothies. An extra dollar got you a shot of bee pollen, or agave, or whatever.

I raised my eyes to Hudson’s hazel ones and tried to not notice the perfect way they crinkled around the edges. I was pretty sure he hadn’t stopped staring at me since the end of class; I could feel the weight of his gaze. “Witches don’t run with wolves,” I said, though I was slightly pained to do so.

He dropped his grin, suddenly serious and sexier for it. “I’m big on firsts.”

I raised my chin. “What about lasts?”

“Those too.” He whispered quietly enough that the words were nearly lost in the din of the street. I just had to smile at his utter sincerity.
 

“One juice,” I said, “but only because I don’t want to go back to work.”

“I would never have you do anything you didn’t want to do. One first juice, then. But not our last.”

“One juice does not imply commitment to more.”

“Ah, but you’re the one who already wouldn’t agree to firsts without lasts,” he said. Ever so lightly, he touched the small of my back to direct me up the street toward Whole Foods. “And by lasts, you meant forever, didn’t you? Wolves, you will find, understand all about forevers.”

I didn’t answer. The conversation had gotten too serious, too quickly for me. My guard was down. I was feeling soft and malleable after the terrifying evening and the yoga class. I was feeling like leaning on Hudson would be a terribly easy thing to do … right before he broke and probably ate my heart. Though I thought I remembered from my previous night’s research that werewolves generally frowned upon man-eaters.

∞

I ordered a mondo berry smoothie. Hudson ordered something with four shots of espresso in it. He paid. I let him.

We sat outside. In the sun with my hoodie zipped up, it was just warm enough to do so. Hudson didn’t seem to need anything other than his T-shirt and shorts. Not that I minded. The T-shirt was a snug fit and I enjoyed the view.

My smoothie was too cold. Either that or my mouth was too hot. This was a possibility, as I was getting a bit peeved at all the women falling over themselves to stare at Hudson. He didn’t look anywhere but at me, of course. But then, he wasn’t an idiot.

The courtyard furniture was built out of some sort of wire. I perched a bit uncomfortably on the chair, but the mesh didn’t seem to bother Hudson.

“So you grew up around here?” he asked, rolling his mug of coffee in his large hands. He hadn’t gotten a paper cup. I liked that about him … recognizing that the “pro-Hudson” list was getting rather long. Not that I suspected it would ever get long enough to off-balance the one “con.” Werewolf was a rather tall and wide hurdle.

“Born and raised.” I smiled and sipped my smoothie slowly through a straw. His gaze snagged on my lips and got caught there. He didn’t wear sunglasses. I did. “And you?” I asked politely.
 

We were playing first-date-questions, even though we’d practically had sex — without actual touching — on the dance floor twelve hours ago. My dance partners, and there had been many of them, had never hunted me down the next day before. Even the one I invited to my bed hadn’t stayed longer than the weekend — but then, I’d pretty much uninvited him by Sunday afternoon.

“Portland now, with the West Coast pack, but I was raised in the Midwest.”

My understanding of werewolves and packs and hierarchy was a bit more complete than it had been the night before, but it was still murky. Magical groups, or divisions, really didn’t intermingle. I had a sense that the
Compendium
was filled with a lot of conjecture, which was why I’d wanted to look through the family chronicle. Of course, this would all be easier if there was some sort of digital database with keyword searches. Maybe Gran would allow me to transcribe the records, after I played on her being away surfing while I was in the hands of werewolves and vampires.

Speaking of hands …

“Midwest,” I murmured to cover my wandering mind, but Hudson didn’t take the bait and elaborate.

“Has the vampire been bothering you?” he asked, and completely ruined the first-date illusion I’d been hoping to cling to just a little bit longer … secretly hoping that Hudson wouldn’t bring up murdered werewolves or vampires. That he was sitting across from me due to an overwhelming attraction rather than … well, than thinking I was elbow deep in the blood of his pack. Yeah, it took me longer than I liked to piece that together. The tiny population of the Adept in Vancouver had risen by six — that I knew of — overnight. What were the chances Hudson wasn’t connected to the vampire somehow?

I shook my head and dropped my eyes to sip at my drink. He’d finished his, though I hadn’t actually seen him drink it. “So … you know the vampire. Do you think I’m some sort of murderer as well?” I asked, happy that the courtyard patio was crowded and loud, and that werewolves had excellent hearing.

“No,” he laughed, but in disbelief rather than amusement.

“Why are we having coffee, then?”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

I looked up at him and noted that he seemed indecisive. So he didn’t always just project never-ending confidence.

“Was he or she a friend of yours?” I asked quietly. If we were going to talk about this, I needed more context. The vampire hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, other than the suggestion that the murder victim had been a werewolf. In fact, now that I thought about it, maybe the vampire was actually socially inept. The
Compendium
was specific and detailed about their insular, xenophobic colonies.

“No,” Hudson answered, “but we’d met at his Rite of Passage ceremony last year.”

“Last year,” I said, latching on to a nugget of
Compendium
-gleaned knowledge. “He was new, then. Young.”

“Yes, eighteen. Here for university.” Hudson held my gaze steadily, every flirtatious vibe wiped from his demeanor. Greater Vancouver boasted two large universities known for different areas of academia. However, Hudson had inclined his head westward when he’d spoken, consciously or subconsciously identifying the University of British Columbia as the school in question.

“Do you … who do you think … The vampire indicated that he was conducting some sort of investigation.”

Hudson snorted in derision. “The only jurisdiction the vampire had was when it looked, momentarily, like a vampire kill. Even then they wouldn’t have sent a rep if it hadn’t been the third body. He needs to back off now.”

“There’ve been three murders?”

“Yeah. Same MO. Werewolf, drained of blood, evidence of some sort of magic on the body —”

“My trinkets?” I asked, even though I really didn’t want the answer.

“Yeah, but this is the first body in Vancouver. The two previous were in Washington, so we didn’t make the connection with the trinkets until Kandy found you yesterday. She and the vampire have been pretending to ignore each other —” Hudson’s phone buzzed. He checked it and replied to a text. “I have to go. The boss summons.” This was said with more respect than sarcasm. “Kandy will watch over you while I’m gone. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“You’re guarding me?”

“Kandy is guarding you. I’m attempting to date you. Seeing as how you’re the common denominator, with the trinkets and all, it’s kind of a conflict of interest. But I find I don’t even remotely care. The vampire must think so, too. About you being the thing to watch, not the dating thing, I hope.” Hudson curled his lip at the mention of the vampire. The
Compendium
had obviously been correct with regards to werewolves not liking vamps. Then he settled his gaze back on me with a sweeter, softer look. “Let me walk you back to the bakery,” he murmured, and I very obligingly got up. I wondered if it was some part of his magic that made me want to obey him, but I found I didn’t care. I just liked the sound of his voice close to my ear and his breath on my neck.

We walked to stand outside the bakery windows. I could see from here that the cookies I’d baked on impulse had sold out already. I didn’t like the blank space in the display case.

“Don’t worry, Jade,” Hudson said. He was close enough that his breath stirred the curls on the top of my head. “I know the smell of your magic now. I don’t think you killed the werewolves.”

“But before we danced?”

“Well,” he said, his grin predatory around the edges. “It was a good way to test, wasn’t it?”

“Without resorting to violence.”

“It’ll come to violence. I’ll just try to keep you as shielded as possible.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Like I said, I’ve smelled your magic. No one in their right mind would snuff that out.”

Yesterday, I was a mediocre half-witch. Now, I’d been informed by a vampire and a werewolf that there was something special about my magic. Seeing how I was a dowser — not that there was much use for such a talent in Vancouver — you’d think I’d know if my magic was remotely interesting. So, yeah, I didn’t believe either of them, no matter how convincing Hudson was or how terrifying the vampire was. Something was going on, but I had no idea why it involved me.

“Save me a cupcake?” Hudson asked.

I flashed him a flirty grin. “I make no promises. Plus I didn’t say yes to dinner.”

“You didn’t say no. See you at seven.” He backpedaled with his hand in the air, forestalling my sure-to-be flippant answer, and then took off east in a light jog. As with Kandy before, the crowd offered no obstruction as he weaved between couples, strollers, and groups of hipster twenty-somethings.

I watched him go, aware I was suddenly weary without him — perhaps his boundless energy had buoyed me somehow — and not ready to return to the confusion that was currently my life.

I pulled my cell phone from my hoodie pocket and dialed my Gran’s number. Yeah, I was only a big girl to a certain point. Three werewolf murders, a near vampire attack, and my trinkets at the heart of it all? I needed my Gran. I got her voicemail, and left a “call me ASAP” message. I wasn’t sure how to articulate everything else before the beep.