Inquisitor (Witch & Wolf Book 1) (2 page)

I hadn’t been, and that was a big problem.

“Is there something I can help you with, miss?” A woman asked from beside me. I about jumped out of my skin.

Shit. I swallowed back my heart and improvised. Without really seeing the jewelry beneath the glass, I pointed at something shiny, hoping it was a necklace. “May I see that please?”

“That’s a very expensive piece, ma’am.”

I glanced at the woman out of the corner of my eye. A pastel pink blazer was matched with a pencil skirt that showed off thin legs and knee-high black boots. Glittering bracelets clung to her wrists. “Is that so?” I murmured, focusing my attention on the piece I pointed at.

Rubies and diamonds winked at me, woven together in a Celtic knot trapped in the center of a web of delicate, diamond-encrusted chains. My cheek twitched.

No wonder the woman was skeptical and eying me suspiciously. Here I was, in some luxury jewelry store poking around to waste time, dressed in a beat-up leather coat, a baggy sweater, and worn jeans splattered with mud from my walk in Central park. As my luck had it, I pointed at a necklace worth more than any car or house I’d ever seen in person, let alone owned.

I felt the eyes of every customer in the store settle on me. Great. Just what I needed. An audience.

Maybe I should’ve acted more indignant. Maybe I should’ve walked away. Instead, I took out my wallet, pulled out my black platinum Amex card, and tossed it on the counter. “May I see that please?”

The sales woman stared at the card and then at me, her eyes narrowing. “Do you really think I’m going to believe this is your card?”

Half of the customers in the store cleared out in the time it took the sales woman to pick up my card.

“Is there a problem?” A man dressed in a business suit stepped forward. His blue eyes took in my clothes before settling on the black credit card in his coworker’s hand.

The woman glared down her nose at me, her gaze settling on my beat-up jacket. “I do believe we have a stolen credit card here, sir.”

The manager snatched my credit card. “Is this true, miss?”

Oh hell no. I felt my cheek twitch again. “It’s not. I’ll just take my card to a different store, then.”

“I think this can be resolved quickly and easily, miss,” the man replied. He frowned at me. “Can I see your ID please?”

I showed him my license. The manager winced. “I’m sorry, but there have been a lot of theft of valuable jewelry lately by those with fraudulent credit cards and out-of-state driver’s licenses. This will only take a few minutes as I verify this is a real card.”

Well, at least he wasn’t going to call the police on me right away. I sighed. “Since when hasn’t my driver’s license been sufficient proof? What is this? LA?”

The saleswoman scowled at my comment.

Ignoring me, the man picked up a phone from behind the counter, checked the back of my credit card, and dialed.

“I can’t even believe this.” I tapped my driver’s license against the counter.

The sales woman sniffed before stalking away, probably hoping to salvage at least one of the fleeing customers.

The manager hummed, punching in numbers as he navigated through Amex’s phone system. “Ah, hello. I’d like to verify a credit card. I’m the manager of Lorindale Jewelers of New York, and a suspicious woman attempted to purchase one of our showcase pieces.”

“I just wanted to look at it,” I corrected.

Once again, I was ignored. I leaned against the glass and drew smiley faces on the clear surface.

“Yes. The name on the card is Allison Ferdinan. I can wait. Thank you.” The manager glared at me, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. He made a shooing gesture at me.

I ignored him. Leaving was looking like a better and better option. Replacing the black card was a phone call away. I’d probably have a new one within an hour, complete with complimentary help with buying whatever I wanted in the city.

I stared down at the necklace. It did match the gown I had purchased from a costume store specializing in vintage apparel. If I did buy it, I could sell it at a charity auction later. I wasn’t about to lose to some snobby manager.

Best of all, a wolf like me didn’t need to keep trophies. I grinned.

The hunt was on.

“Ah, yes. Hello. My name is Mr. Manwich. I’m the manager of Lorindale Jewelers of New York. I have someone here who has possibly stolen one of your customer’s platinum black cards.” There was a pause, then Mr. Manwich frowned.

I somehow managed not to laugh. “This is going to get sloppy, Joe.”

Someone behind me snickered.

“Yes. The name on the card is Allison Ferdinan. What is she wearing? Why are you asking me this?”

I scrunched my face and adopted the deepest, roughest voice I could manage, then said, “Is she wearing a leather coat that looks like it had seen better days back in the 1920s? That’s her.”

A few more people chuckled. The color drained from Mr. Manwich’s face. “Yes. I understand.” He hung up.

The man’s fear was bitter, sweet, and made my mouth water. I swallowed. Then I smiled. “I’m going to a party tonight, Mr. Manwich, and I need a necklace.”

Mr. Manwich made a horrified noise.

It took American Express less than twenty minutes to send a concierge. Samantha Morrison grinned at me, slinging a shiny black leather purse over her shoulder.

“Oh, god. They haven’t fired you yet?” I moaned, making a sign to ward me against evil.

Samantha laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m the only woman in this city who can handle you, Ms. Ferdinan.”

“A-L-L-I-S-O-N spells Allison,” I replied with flippant disregard to Amex’s rules on addressing clients, glancing down at my watch with a grin. “Twenty minutes. It’s a new record.”

“What can I say? When you’re good, you’re good, and I’m good.”

An hour later, I took pity on the manager. I bought the ruby and diamond necklace.

The full moon was rising, and I had bigger game to hunt.

~*~

“I still can’t believe you did that, Allie,” Samantha muttered around a mouthful of McDonald’s fries. At least the fast-food joint hadn’t questioned the use of my credit card.

I guess I really could have it my way once and again. Either that, or Samantha’s glare frightened them into cooperation.

“Did what?” I asked, looking up from my ritualistic slaughter of my hamburger. What can I say? Old habits died hard, and hamburgers didn’t exactly classify as hors d’oeuvres.

“You took that manager for a ride,” she replied. “And I don’t mean the good type of ride.”

I stabbed a piece of the burger with my fork. “Oh, Sloppy Joe? Yeah. He deserved it. Give me some credit, Sammy. I bought the necklace, didn’t I?”

“At over a fifty-percent reduction. That was slick, girl. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

I grinned. “Old dogs can learn new tricks. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“And speaking of tricks, what are you doing here tonight of all nights? Are you insane? Don’t tell me you decided to join the circle.” Samantha stared at me with wide blue eyes.

That got a snort out of me. I shook my head. “Owed a client a favor. He needed a date for a party.”

“You
are
insane. What if…” Samantha glanced over her shoulder before leaning towards me. “What if someone finds out?”

“Don’t worry,” I said, stabbing at another piece of my burger. It lasted all of five seconds before I gulped it down. A lady, after all, didn’t talk with her mouth full. “I have a large enough insurance policy to cover my card, even with that pretty shiny necklace burning a hole in my wallet.”

“Is ‘pretty’ a new word for ‘gaudy’? And anyway, I’m not worried about that, you idiot. What if they find you, Shimmer?”

I flinched at Samantha’s use of my nickname. It was a throwback from well over a hundred years ago, but it still made its rounds through the supernatural community with the same virulence of a cold. “Sammy, what do you think will happen? We’ve been around a long time, girl. If they find me, well, it’s because I’ve lost my touch in my old age.”

“You aren’t that old.”

“Says the seventy-seven-year-old masquerading as a thirty-something mother of two,” I grumbled.

“We all have our flaws.”

I wrinkled my nose and eyed the remains of my burger, stabbing one of the last pieces of meat. It lasted almost half a minute. “I’m going to need a purse.”

“Okay,” Samantha replied, shaking her head. The look she gave me wasn’t promising. A talk loomed on the horizon, and it’d be at least three days before I could escape New York. “Color? Type?”

I gestured at my beat-up leather coat. “I may be ancient, but I’m no fashionista. That’s why I have you. My dress is white and red. I even have heels. They’re red.”

“
You’re
wearing heels? What the hell kind of party are you going to, and why wasn’t I invited? The purse is easy. Kate Spade and we’re done. There’s one nearby. Let me do the talking this time, please.”

“You got it, Boss,” I replied. I eyed my plate.

I abandoned the fries. My wolf wasn’t hungry for deep-fried rabbit food. I cringed and drew several deep breaths. One of these days, I’d stop referring to my inner beast as my wolf.

She was me. I just didn’t want to admit it.

“Are you going to be okay? Don’t you usually head out west when this happens?” Samantha fidgeted and glanced at her watch.

“I’ll manage, somehow.”

“If you need my help, call me. You know I’ll do anything I can.”

“I know. Any luck on my new ID?”

Samantha sighed. “It’s ready when you need it. We still need to go over your options, but that won’t take long. It’ll take twenty-four hours to finalize, though.”

“Good,” I replied. With luck, I wouldn’t need it, not for a few years. “Everything’ll be fine.”

Then again, it was a full moon on Halloween. What could go wrong, would. There were too many strange, dangerous things in the world for it not to.

“If you’re sure…”

I smiled for Samantha’s sake. “I’m sure.”

With a little luck, it wouldn’t be a lie.

Trading my leather jacket and my worn jeans for rubies, diamonds, and a pearl-encrusted ball gown was not a satisfactory exchange. Cinderella, at least, got a prince worth keeping, if you happened to believe the perfect fairy tales Disney offered. I bet the real Cinderella had snapped her pretty neck when she lost her glass slipper. Either that, or she had wised up and shoved it up Prince Charming’s ass.

Samantha didn’t leave until the hairdresser had finished torturing my scalp. Apparently perfect curls were in, and my determined stylist was going to work magic on my untamed mane of hair, like it or not. If Mark wasn’t surprised by the transformation, I was going to eat my damned necklace.

I suspected Samantha helped by cheating, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Unlike me, Samantha was good at using her witch powers for small but useful tricks. I was almost jealous of her. While I classified as a witch too, I couldn’t do anything like Samantha could. Mine was a difficult-to-control power I buried, hoping it would never resurrect.

I showed up at the Plaza by limousine at ten until nine. A crowd of costumed figures stopped and stared. A man dressed in a classic black-and-white suit with graying hair hurried to open my door, offering me his hand.

I kept my touch delicate, emerging from the safety of the limo.

“Are you here for the gala, ma’am?” he asked.

I inclined my head. He snapped his fingers, and a bellhop appeared with a clipboard. “Your name, ma’am?”

“Allison Ferdinan,” I murmured.

“Ah, excellent, Miss Ferdinan. We’ve been expecting you. Mr. Dupree is waiting for you inside. This way, please.”

I followed the man inside, careful not to step on the hem of my gown. The hotel’s foyer, the definition of wealthy refinement, was layered in cottony spider webbing. The lights were dimmed, and candelabra-lined paths led to the registration desk and other parts of the hotel. I pulled my jeweled fan from my brand-new purse and fluttered it over my face to hide my grin. Men in faux-fur werewolf masks flanked the doors leading to the grand reception hall.

A peacock stood nearby, leaning against one of the walls, his costume complete with a long tail of brightly-colored feathers. Mark grinned at me, most of his face obscured by a halo of blue.

My brows rose. “You’re a chicken who got trapped in a paint factory. It suits you, Mark.”

“And you, my dear, look radiant,” he replied, pushing away from the wall to take my hand. “What have you done with my Allison?”

I let his possessiveness slide—this time. “Killed her. I threw the body in the Hudson. The sharks looked hungry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

He grinned at me, reaching out with his other hand to touch the necklace hugging my throat. “Is this real?”