Spellbinder (7 page)

“Why the hell are we here?” Della asked. “We all know what you want to do.”

Miranda knew exactly what Della meant, but it pissed her off that Della herself didn’t want the same thing. Perry hadn’t come alone to Paris. With him was Steve, Della’s sort-of ex.

How could Della not be aching to see Steve? Had Della given up on Steve the way Perry had given up on her?

“Yeah,” Miranda smarted back. “Let’s go to the Louvre. Seeing some chubby-cheeked lady with a fake smile is more exciting.”

“Get your head out of your ass,” Della snapped. “If you want to find Perry just say so and let’s get it over with.”

Miranda shot the vamp a cold glare. “I don’t know if I want to see him.”

“Please,” Della said. “I’d bet my best bra that’s the reason you won. Just to come here to see him.”

“What?” Miranda asked. “You want me to say I have to see Perry so you can see Steve? Why don’t you just grow some fangs and admit you want to see him?”

Della’s eyes grew bright with anger—probably the fangs slur pissed her off—but the vamp was always throwing witch insults at Miranda. Or maybe it wasn’t the vamp criticism, but her friend was as miserable about Steve as Miranda was about Perry. Miranda almost felt guilty.

“If I wanted to see Steve, I would be there now! I’m not the coward,” Della snapped and her tone pushed Miranda’s guilt back. “You pinky-twitching little twit.”

The last comment validated Miranda’s anger and she rolled her eyes, waiting for Kylie to tell Della to cool it. Kylie was the mediator, the peacekeeper. When she didn’t do her job, Miranda turned her eyes on blondie. “Aren’t you going to tell her to behave?”

Kylie made a funny face. “Nah, I thought I’d let you two just kill each other and get it over with. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Can I? Can I kill her?” Della smarted off again. “Please. I know! What if I feed her to the gargoyles?”

“Not funny!” Miranda frowned and looked away from her friends. A part of her knew she was being a bitch, but damn it, she was hurting too much to be anything else. Right then, she felt it. The ominous feeling she’d gotten when she’d been on stage.

“It’s back,” she said and looked around.

“What?” Della asked.

“Trouble. Trouble’s back.”

“Define trouble,” Della said.

“The kind that brings fireballs.” Miranda looked around, left and right, and there, behind a group of Asian tourists, she spotted a mane of red hair. Tabitha stood fifty feet away staring up at the Eiffel Tower. Did that mean she was conjuring it?

“We’ve got company.” Della lifted her nose in the air.

“I know. I already see her,” Miranda said, and when she turned back to Della, she spotted two other familiar faces. The twins, Candy and Sandy Gleason, about three hundred feet away caught in the middle of another group of Eiffel Tower admirers.

“Where?” Della snapped.

“Tabitha’s there and then—”

“No,” Kylie said and raised her face to sniff the air. “She means vampire. There’re several close by and they reek of old human blood.”

“Yeah, but they’re still probably nicer than Tabitha.” From the corner of Miranda’s eye, she saw a blurry figure swoop past, and it flew around the six Asians with their cell phone cameras focused on the tower.

Miranda watched in horror as the figure swooped down on Tabitha.

“There,” Miranda screamed and took off.

Forget being the first to spot the vamp or the first to run, Kylie and Della surged forward, followed by Shawn, and the three of them passed her in a fraction of a second.

Hating her lack of speed, Miranda stopped and watched in horror as the scraggily looking vampire stopped behind Tabitha, reached one hand around her chest, and pressed his other hand on the side of her face. She’d seen it in the movies, the scary-looking position that made it easy to twist and break someone’s neck. Fear rose in Tabitha’s blue eyes. The same fear clutched Miranda’s stomach.

Chapter Eight

Archenemy or not, her heart ached for Tabitha. Regretting her snarky comments about the girl, she recalled preschool when she and Tabitha shared a love of the same cookies, the same nursery rhymes, and anything princess related.

“Stop him!” Miranda screamed. She raised her hand to throw a spell.

“Let her go,” Kylie said, her voice a deep rumble as Miranda’s spell went on hold. Kylie, the protector, could work more magic than she.

The greasy, dark-haired vamp laughed as if nothing was going to stop him. His dirty clothes and overall appearance marked him as rogue.

The yellow-toothed smile of confidence just meant he didn’t have a clue he was up against a protector and a super vampire. He pressed his hand roughly into Tabitha’s cheek, but before he could get any rougher, Kylie caught his arm. With little effort, she slung him up and over her head and he landed with a dark thud on the cold ground. Della shot forward in case he tried to get up.

Screams rose from the crowd of tourists and they scurried about like rats without a maze. Then it started raining vampires. Two, three, four. Della and Shawn charged, each taking on two. Kylie took on three.

Miranda’s gaze flipped from one fight to the other, then landed on Tabitha. The girl dropped to her knees and ungracefully lost the contents of her stomach. Miranda got about twenty feet from the girl when the feeling of danger increased. Warning chills ran down her spine. She glanced up and saw the cannon-sized fireball barreling from the sky. Barreling right at Tabitha.

Knowing Della, Shawn, and Kylie were too busy dealing with rogue vamps to see the fireball, Miranda raised her hand, wiggled her pinky, and shrunk the size of the ball to a dime. It hit the ground about two feet from Tabitha. The girl screamed and stood up as if to run.

Shifting her gaze around to see if any more trouble had arisen, Miranda spotted Shawn, now fighting three vamps with a glowing sword. She’d heard about honor swords given to a few warlocks who were gifted with strong integrity and an abundance of magic.

When the fourth vamp came up against Shawn, Miranda decided he could use some help. Holding out her arm, trying to think of a spell that wouldn’t be noted by humans, she saw a large, black-and-tan German shepherd and two French bulldogs. “Got this,” she muttered. “Attack him.” Right as her pinky twitched, she realized her mistake. The last detail she’d held in her dyslexic mind had been Della’s comment about all the poop, not the dogs.

In horror, she watched as piles of dog excrement rose from the grassy knoll and were slung at the fourth vamp.

“Oh no,” she muttered.

Before she could fix it, a fog, thicker than smoke, rose from the ground. The heavy cloud painted everything a whitish gray and made it impossible to see a foot in front of her.

“Miranda?” Shawn’s voice rose in the mist, but it sounded distant.

“I’m here,” Miranda answered, and just like that, someone grabbed her. An image of the dirty vamp that had almost broken Tabitha’s neck filled her mind. Instinct had her raising her knee to hit the soft spot between his legs, while her mind raced for a curse.

“Damn.” She heard someone grunt the word. It took her about a second to recognize that moan as Shawn’s.

“Oops,” she muttered.

Then, like magic—of course magic—the fog evaporated. The thick cloud became only a pale veil of mist. She saw Shawn cupping his privates and embarrassment wiggled its way into her chest.

“Where the hell did they go?” Della snapped, looking first at Kylie and then turning to look at Miranda and Shawn.

It took a few moments for Miranda to realize who was gone. The vamps. Including the one she’d attacked with dog poop.

“Oh, lordy.” She really hated her dyslexic goofs sometimes. But on second thought … this might not be one of those times. The rogue vamp who would now go through his life being attacked by any nearby piles of poop deserved it. Didn’t he?

Then it hit that the fog had been a ploy for the vampires to escape. But vamps couldn’t make fog. Witches and warlocks, and perhaps a chameleon in witch mode, could create fog.

“I don’t know where they went,” Shawn growled. Miranda cut him a quick look. Pain still hardened his expression, and he had one fist pressed low on his waist.

His gaze shifted to Miranda and she mouthed the words,
I’m sorry.

Only concern marred his expression as he nodded. Then, taking a step away, he pulled out his phone and she heard him say Burnett’s name.

Remembering the fireball, she realized someone else besides the vampires was gone. Breath held, she did a visual search around the park.

“Where’s Tabitha?” Miranda voiced her concern and did a full circle hoping to spot the red-haired witch.

“She was right there,” Kylie said.

Finally, Miranda spotted her about a hundred feet away. The girl sat on the ground, still clutching her middle, her head down.

Miranda started over.

A low sound reached Miranda’s ears as she got closer to Tabitha. The girl hummed. The tune hit a familiar melody in Miranda’s head. “Yankee Doodle.” The same tune she hummed to help deal with stress. An odd nervous habit she’d picked up from her dad.

Had Tabitha picked the habit up from Miranda when they were in preschool? Miranda wasn’t sure, but where else would Tabitha have gotten it?

“It’s okay,” Miranda said when she got closer.

With spittle on her chin, the redheaded witch glanced up. Fury filled her eyes. “You. I should have known you were behind this.”

“I wasn’t—”

“What happened?” A voice rang out to Miranda’s right. Sienna ran up and dropped to the ground and threw her arms around Tabitha for a quick hug.

“She happened,” Tabitha seethed, pushing out of the hug and looking up at Miranda.

“Bullshit!” Della appeared at her side with Kylie. “You might not have noticed, but Miranda shrank a fireball that was targeted at your ass.” Della looked at Miranda. “You should have let it take her out. The world would have been a better place.”

Tabitha started to raise her hand. Miranda jumped in front of Della. She’d just saved Tabitha’s life, but no way would she let the girl do any harm to one of her best friends.

Della pushed Miranda aside and let out a deep hiss. “You even think of twitching that pinky at me and I’ll break it off and feed it to some unlucky Parisian frog. I’m not nearly as good-natured as my friend here.”

Tabitha, not as dumb as she acted, dropped her hand, but she wasn’t completely backing down. “I’m reporting this to that FRU agent.”

“Who, me?” Shawn asked, appearing at Miranda’s side. “If you—”

“Or do you mean me?” Another deep voice sounded as a quick shadowy flash stopped right beside Shawn. Miranda didn’t have to see the owner of the voice to know it was Burnett.

“Or perhaps you could explain why you two went against my orders and left the hotel.” He directed his question to Sienna and Tabitha.

“We’re not prisoners,” Sienna snapped.

“No, you’re not. But someone wants you dead.” Burnett’s tone was deep and angry. “Would you rather be dead?”

When Sienna didn’t answer, Burnett added, “Does anyone want to tell me what happened here?”

“I think she’s trying to kill me,” Tabitha said, glaring at Miranda.

“Why would I want to kill you?” Miranda snapped back.

“Would you quit acting as if you don’t know?” Tabitha snapped and got to her feet.

“Know what?” Miranda blasted back and felt Kylie take her by the arm as if to calm her.

Tabitha didn’t answer, and started walking away.

“Stop her,” Burnett said to Shawn. “Everyone goes back to the apartment until I figure out what’s up.” He turned to another agent. “Start collecting cameras from the crowd. Take them to the office and start downloading them, tell everyone they can pick them up in a few hours.”

Would you quit acting as if you don’t know?
Miranda kept hearing Tabitha’s parting comment. She started to walk with Shawn, wanting answers from Tabitha, but Burnett caught her by her arm. “No. Now’s not the time for female drama.”

Miranda stopped, but frowned in the redheaded witch’s direction. Why did she get the feeling that there was more to Tabitha’s little show than just female drama? What could have happened almost fourteen years ago between their moms that could still be worth fighting over?

*   *   *

Four hours later, on her first night in Paris, Miranda sat beside Kylie on the apartment’s sofa. Della had been released to go to DeVille with another agent. Before she left, Miranda had apologized for being a bitch. Della had half-smiled and said she’d already forgiven her. Miranda had insisted on a hug, and of course, Della relented, but made it a short one.

That was the thing about the vamp, she might get mad in a flicker of a second, but she was almost as quick to forgive. And Miranda knew that beneath her friend’s prickly attitude was a heart of gold.

Sienna and Tabitha sat on the love seat. Tabitha hadn’t stopped frowning at Miranda, and it took everything she had not to jump up and demand the girl explain her parting comment from earlier.

Burnett had confiscated all the cameras from the tourists and downloaded the images and video to a laptop. After interviewing, or rather interrogating everyone, he’d connected a projector and they were watching the attack via photos and video on the white wall.

Shawn narrated the images as they flashed. “Here, you can see the fireball. And here’s where Miranda shrunk it down to the size of a pea.” Shawn’s gaze shifted to Tabitha.

When surprise filled her eyes, Miranda knew that Tabitha really hadn’t known she’d saved her butt. And if the tightness in the redhead’s expression was any indication, she didn’t like knowing it.

Miranda looked at the clock on the wall, wishing this would end so she could find out exactly what Tabitha was so pissed about. What was it that Miranda was supposed to know and didn’t? The bad blood between them had gone on too long. It was time for answers.

“Okay,” Burnett said, pausing the projector. “It seems apparent that Tabitha was the intended victim.”

“What? Why do you think that?” Tabitha asked, fear sounding in her voice.

Kylie leaned forward. “The first vampire grabbed you and it appears you were the fireball’s target.”