That Old Black Magic (13 page)

Her stomach twisted with part flu, part nerves. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

He didn’t reply.

“And we’re
going
to avoid it,” she insisted.

“Of course we are.”

“Nothing bad is going to happen to either of us. I promise.”

He eyed her. “You’re still after that happily ever after, are you?”

“I’ll settle for nothing less.” She did wish she could coax a bit more confidence into her voice. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“Yes, Scarlett.”

She’d felt as if she’d been close to breaking the curse this morning.
So
close. That she’d failed so epically was a bitter pill to swallow.

But maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe that black blob she’d seen wasn’t anything more helpful than one of Nancy’s malformed chocolate donuts.

A mere fifteen minutes later they walked into the lobby of 55 Bloor Street West, a shiny office building and shopping mall.

“Andy’s probably right,” she said. “Brendan could definitely work here.”

“Then why didn’t that come up on his search? I mean, he was able to find the location of a little kid, but not some guy with a job right in the heart of the city?”

She shook her head. “No idea.”

“So slap that bracelet on this guy’s wrist, send him directly to Hell, and we head back and deal with Andy.”

She froze, nearly going over on her high heels on the shiny floor. “Excuse me?”

Darrak looked at her. “What?”

“Did you say, send him to Hell?”

He frowned as if not understanding her confusion. “Well, yeah. What do you think that set of handcuffs there does?”

“These are handcuffs?” She yanked her hand out of her pocket where she’d been touching the cold silver of the bracelet again. “I—I didn’t really think about it.”

He grimaced. “Well, forget I said anything.”

“How am I supposed to forget about that? I’m going to send someone to . . .” She lowered her voice. “To
Hell
if I clamp that thing on their wrist?”

“Likely the reason this dude has the cloaking spell on him so Lucifer can’t find him and drag him there before this.”

“He told me he just wanted to talk to him.”

“Well, what else was he going to say to you?”

“Why would Lucas lie to me?” Her voice sounded strained.

Darrak raised a dark brow. “You do know we’re talking about
Lucifer
here, right? Not Abraham Lincoln.”

She sighed shakily. “He couldn’t possibly think that I’d be okay with this.”

“If it’s any consolation, I bet this Brendan guy is bad news. If he’s hiding from Lucifer, what else could he be?”

“How can you be so calm about this?”

“Just another day at the office, Eden. Only I haven’t actually been at my desk for over three hundred years.”

She tried to breathe normally, but it was a struggle. There was no reason, in her opinion, why Lucas would have lied about this. If he wanted to drag an evil soul to Hell, then there were other means to facilitate that that didn’t include her. He’d know by now that Eden, despite being a black witch, had issues with being evil. She didn’t want to cause anyone harm unless they really deserved it.

The longer she thought about it the more she realized it was too late to change her mind. She knew Darrak’s well-being—her
own
well-being—was at risk right now. Lucas might be nice and personable and easy on the eyes, but she wasn’t ready to cross him today. Not over something like this.

She sighed. “Fine. Then let’s get this over with. How are we supposed to figure out if he’s even here?”

Darrak scanned the lobby, his gaze coming to rest on the security desk near the elevators. “When you’re lost, it’s a good idea to ask for directions.”

“Most men wouldn’t admit something like that.”

He grinned at her. “I’m not most men.”

“Touché.”

He approached the guard. “Hey, there. We’re looking for somebody who works in this building. Can you help us?”

“What’s the name?”

“Brendan Franks.”

“What do you want with him?”

Not a question they should answer honestly, to say the least. But Eden was at a loss of a good excuse to use.

Darrak, however, was not.

“We’re with Publishers Clearing House,” he said smoothly. “Mr. Franks has won our latest sweepstakes, and this is our initial contact visit. It’s very exciting for everyone. Do you feel the excitement, good sir?”

The guard regarded him skeptically. “For real?”

“The realest. Three million dollars. A trip around the world. Uh . . . a whole mess of balloons. There’s even a cake. And a party. It’s going to be amazing. My lovely associate and I just need to talk to Mr. Franks and have him sign some release forms and then we do the whole presentation with the big check and confetti.”

Eden didn’t think their reason behind looking for Brendan Franks needed to be this elaborate, but the guard seemed very impressed.

She was also impressed. Darrak was a fantastic and very creative liar.

She stepped back a little to give him space to keep talking with the guard, who was now checking the employee database.

The guard frowned. “Sorry, but I’m not finding that name.”

“Keep looking,” Darrak suggested. “He’s got to be in there somewhere.”

A dark-haired woman on her way toward the elevators slowed and glanced at Eden. “Is that right? Someone in this building won a major prize?”

Eden cleared her throat. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Who is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Brendan Franks. You don’t happen to know him, do you?”

The woman frowned. “I’m afraid not.”

Damn. This wasn’t going to be an easy assignment, but she already knew that.

Darrak waited, leaning against the security desk. He glanced over his shoulder at Eden and gave her a thumbs-up.

At least one of them was staying positive about this.

This was ridiculous. They had better things to do today than chase after half-baked clues for Lucas. If it took much longer, it would have to wait for another day.

Something caught Eden’s eye then. Darrak wasn’t leaning against the desk so much as he was hanging on to the side of it. His shoulders were slumped and a trickle of perspiration slid down his temple.

He wasn’t feeling well.

She’d think he might have contracted the flu, just as her symptoms were coming on slowly but surely this week, but there was just one very important thing . . .

Demons didn’t get sick.

Then what was going on? Or was it just her imagination? “Darrak—” she began. She was going to suggest they leave and try again tomorrow. Lucas would just have to understand that all good things came to those who waited—even if they were the Prince of Hell. Triple-A didn’t offer twenty-four-hour turnaround for anybody.

“You don’t mind if I wait here, do you?” the dark-haired woman interrupted her. She hadn’t budged a step from where she stood next to Eden, gazing at the security desk. “I’d hate to miss any of the excitement.”

“We’re probably going to go soon. I don’t think they can find his name on the employee list.”

“Brendan Franks,” she repeated. “You’re sure about that?”

“Do you work here?”

“Tenth floor. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

“Not at all. I’d be happy to help if I can.”

Eden wanted to leave, but she couldn’t turn down a solid lead when one presented itself to her. This woman might know where to find Brendan. And if she could get to the bottom of this minor mystery today, then it was one less thing to think about and she could focus on Andy’s werewolf dilemma tonight and seeing Maksim again tomorrow.

So much to do, so little time.

“I definitely don’t have a Brendan Franks,” the security guard told Darrak to their right. “Sorry about that.”

Damn. That wasn’t very promising.

“However . . .” the guard continued.

“What?” Darrak prompted.

“I do have a . . . uh . . . a Brenda N. Franks. Do you think that might be it?”

“
Brenda?
” Darrak repeated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I can see why there might have been an error made. One little dot can make a whole lot of difference, can’t it? Do you think Brenda’s the winner you’re looking for?”

Darrak turned his head in Eden’s direction just as she felt an arm clamp tightly around her.

“Middle name’s Natasha,” the woman purred into her ear. A whisper of sharp steel pressed against her throat. “Nice to meet you. Now what the hell do you want with me?”

NINE

The moment the woman pulled the knife, flames rippled down Darrak’s right arm and covered his hand. All archde-mons had an element to call, and his happened to be fire. He didn’t have a ton of power left in reserve—plus, he was feeling strangely weakened ever since the curse removal attempt—but he had enough to reduce this woman to a pile of ash if he was properly motivated. And seeing her press a knife against Eden’s throat was more than enough to properly motivate him.

He didn’t want Eden to tap into her black magic, but he knew it was only a matter of time. By the shade of her amulet, she couldn’t delve too deeply. Unfortunately, life or death situations like this called for a bit of delving.

“Who are you?” Brenda’s gaze shot toward him.

The guard stood up from behind the security desk. “What are you doing?”

“Mind your own business,” she hissed.

“Okay.” The guard’s eyes glazed over and he sat back down to begin fiddling with his computer.

“You’ve got some tricks up your sleeve,” Eden managed.

“A few. Now in case you didn’t hear me before, who the hell are you and what do you want with me?” The blade pressed closer, and Darrak was afraid to move too quickly or he might spook her. Black witches, even reluctant ones like Eden, were as easy to kill as a regular human. He wasn’t willing to risk her life.

Eden met Darrak’s gaze and concern tore through his gut. He hadn’t expected this, although he should have. If this chick was someone Lucifer wanted, that meant she was extremely dangerous.

“I’m Darrak.” He forced his tone down to one much calmer than he felt. “That’s Eden. A pleasure to meet you. Now, let go of her right now or I’m going to introduce you to Mr. Third-Degree Burn. He’s not so friendly.”

“Why are you looking for me?” she demanded. “And don’t tell me I just won the lottery.”

“Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes,” Darrak corrected. “Much cooler than any boring lottery. Did I mention there was going to be cake? Then you had to go and ruin all the fun.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Start talking or I’m going to slit her throat.”

The heat of his fire increased along with his temper. “You really don’t want to do that.”

“Maybe I’m feeling like I don’t have many choices here.”

“You’re right, you only have one choice and that’s to let Eden go. Not to quote from old TV shows, but you really don’t want to see me when I’m angry.”

People continued to walk steadily through the lobby, but were completely ignoring their standoff. This Brenda woman was able to work some sort of cloaking magic—much as she’d done to hide herself from Lucifer, he was sure, but on a smaller scale—and also she had the power of verbal influence over humans. Handy tricks, actually.

Suddenly, Darrak’s fire energy flickered and nearly went out.

Damn it, not now.

He was having difficulty maintaining what little power he had left. He wasn’t sure why he felt so off today. Demons didn’t suffer from ailments or illnesses. If they were injured, they healed quickly. But this didn’t seem as if it was from any specific injury.

The pain began in the center of his chest when they’d first arrived here and had slowly radiated outward. He barely noticed it until it now made it difficult to concentrate. Then it accelerated and felt as if something was attempting to claw itself out of his chest, tearing him in two pieces from the inside out.

Another wave of agony followed the first in rapid succession and was equal to what he’d felt that morning when he’d lost form. It knocked him right to his knees, and he braced his hands against the smooth marble floor. He gritted his teeth and tried to see past the white-hot flash before his eyes.

“Darrak!” Eden shrieked.

The other woman screamed as a wave of Eden’s black magic hit her and she flew backward across the lobby. A pain-filled glance up showed more dark veins spreading across Eden’s amulet.

Not good.

Also not good was the sensation that he was going to turn to smoke again at any moment. It took a lot of energy to maintain his corporeal form during the day, even with Eden’s celestial help. But he felt he had nothing in reserve. The well was dry.

He looked down at his hand, previously covered in fire from fingertip to elbow, as it turned to smoke before his eyes. This time, however, the smoke wasn’t only black. It was black and bright white—swirling together like a tornado.

What the hell?

A moment later the tearing pain eased off completely and his hand reformed.

The woman’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of him. “What the hell are the two of you?”

“Complicated,” Darrak replied wearily.

“Darrak, are you okay?” Eden stood between him and the woman, her fists clenched at her sides. He could see the static charge of her magic running down the length of her arms like small lightning storms.

“Never better,” he lied.

“You’re a witch.” Brenda eyed Eden from her position crouched on the floor and looked ready to spring if anyone came close to her. “But I sense something else . . . I sense—angel?”

Eden glared at her. “How do you know that?”

“I know lots of things whether I want to or not. Who sent you to grab me?”

Eden held her gaze steadily. “Lucifer. Ever heard of him?”

Brenda gasped, then swore under her breath. “I knew it.”

“He wants to have a little chat with you. I’d been feeling a bit guilty about helping him facilitate that chat, but you know what? I’m over it now.”

“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want anything to do with him.”