H Mallory - To Kill A Warlock

“Then I took a shower and tidied up the apartment. I’d planned a visit to Fabian’s dark arts store because word on the street was he’d be receiving a delivery soon.”

“How did you know it was arriving yesterday?” Quillan interrupted.

“Well, I didn’t know for sure it was going to come yesterday. Trey had been getting visions of a truck delivery to Fabian’s sometime last week, so I made sure I patrolled pretty frequently.”

“But, Trey didn’t get any inkling that Fabian would be murdered?” Quillan leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles. Holy Hades, he was one sexy bastard.

I shrugged. “If Trey did, he didn’t share that with me.” I took a breath. “So, when I went to talk to Fabian about his delivery, he looked nervous. He was helping a stranger who I’d never seen before, which threw me off. Otherwise, I would’ve been prepared for the Hemmen spell.”

“The stranger,” Quillan started. “Can you describe him?”

“Tall, maybe three inches taller than you.”

Quillan faced the airborne pen. “I stand five feet, eleven inches making this stranger six feet two inches.” He faced me again. “What else, Dulce?” I frowned. Quillan was really five-ten, but if he wanted that little inch, he could have it. “He had dark hair and blue eyes.” “How dark was his hair?” “Black.” “What type of creature was he?” I shook my head. “That’s the kicker. I couldn’t tell.” “Let the record note this stranger didn’t register with Headquarters,” Quillan added. Every time he spoke, he faced Saturn as if he were addressing a crowd full of voters who might put him into office. “Once he bespelled you, then what happened?” he asked.

“Fabian must’ve known I was paying attention to the stranger cause that’s when he put the Hemmen on me. I left the store immediately because I started to feel pretty sick. It took me a few minutes to realize it was the spell taking shape. I ran all the way to Sam’s house, and then the spell took over and turned me into that blob.” Quillan faced the pen again. “For the record, ‘Sam’ is Samantha White, witch. Employee of Splendor, A.N.C. Headquarters.” “34 B bust size,” I added. Quillan just smiled. “How far does Sam live from Fabian’s?” “Half a mile.” “Were you able to see what Fabian had in the truck delivery?” He paused. “Could the stranger have been the delivery driver?”

I shook my head. “No, he wasn’t dressed in uniform. And, no, I didn’t get to see what Fabian had in the delivery. He bespelled me before I got the chance.” Quillan nodded and clapped his hands together before leaning forward. “Okay, Dulce, that’s all I needed. You’re free to go.” “That’s it?” He threw me a smile. “I believe you’re innocent, Dulce. Just have to follow procedure.”

I stood up as he opened the door and poked his head out, calling for Lottie to take care of Saturn. When he returned his gaze to me, there was something in his eyes…concern maybe?

“I know I don’t need to tell you this,” he started with a pause. “Just be careful on this case, okay?”

I nodded and strode out the door, smiling to myself as I thought maybe my day wasn’t going to be screwed up after all.

###

Three hours later, I sat at my computer, typing out the last scene of my romance novel, Captain Slade’s Bounty. The book was about a pirate Captain, Slade Montgomery and a stowaway named Clementine. Over the course of two months at sea, Clementine and the Captain had sex nine times, and I was ending the book with their tenth.

But I was having trouble seeing the scene in my head-typical writer’s block. I tapped my fingers against the particleboard of my Ikea desk and watched the cursor blink, taunting me with its restlessness. I just couldn’t really get into writing about Slade’s engorged manhood as it penetrated Clementine in her naughtiest of places.

Instead, my mind refused to relinquish images of Fabian’s severed head. With a frustrated sigh, I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up an image of Quillan wearing only an eye patch. Even though it usually got my writing juices flowing, it did nothing for me now.

Well, when you can’t write, you can edit. I clicked on the search and replace option and began replacing Quillan’s name with Captain Slade’s. It was lots easier to imagine Quillan as my pirate hero if I wrote using his name. Go figure. The phone rang and I bolted for it. “Hi, Sam,” I said, after catching her name on the caller ID. “Hi, Dulce. Quillan told me about Fabian. That’s crazy.”

I plunked down into my sofa and played with my dry cuticles. “Yeah, it was pretty awful. It looked like he’d been ripped apart, but there was no blood.”

Sam gasped. “So you think it was vampires?”

At the mention of vampires, I pulled at one dry cuticle too hard, and it began to bleed, the color of liquid gold. “Too soon to tell.”

“So, what are you doing now?”

I eyed the open document page on my computer screen and noted the cursor still blinking like it was pissed off that I was on the phone. Pretty soon the screen saver would kill it with a calming picture of fish in a tank.

“Well, I was trying to work on my book, but I have writer’s block.”

“Oh.” She paused. “You’ve been writing a lot. Don’t you think maybe you should get out and…”

“Sam, we’ve been through this,” I started, knowing where the conversation was headed. I hadn’t dated anyone in a year, not since my last boyfriend had dumped me after a five-year relationship. “I’m just not ready.” Sam sighed. “I know, Dulce, it’s just been a long time since you even went out on a date.” “Sam…” “I’m just saying I think you have trust issues.”

I knew I had trust issues but I really didn’t blame myself considering I’d trusted someone for five years only to find out he’d been banging some chick for the last three years of our relationship.

“Anyway,” Sam exhaled. “Want to catch a movie and dinner?”

“Can’t. I have to go talk to Bram and Dagan about Fabian and that stranger. I want to see if they might have some news about it. You can come along if you want.”

Sam’s silence was telling. She’d had a fling with Bram for about a month. Only it turned out, he’d been going out with her to get closer to me. Or, so she said.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I offered, knowing it’s never fun to see an ex.

“I’m totally over Bram. I’ll go. We should make a night of it since I can’t remember the last time we went clubbing together.”

It had been a while. I wasn’t super crazy about clubbing, but since I’d be going to No Regrets anyway, might as well enjoy myself. And Bram was always good about offering us free drinks.

“Okay, why don’t I pick you up at ten?” I asked.

Now, if I could just get over my writer’s block.

###

It was nine-thirty. I eyed my reflection in the mirror and gave my black miniskirt and red halter top a satisfied smile. Thank God for push up bras-my 32Cs looked more like Ds. Nothing wrong with a little false bravado. I sprayed some Juicy Couture perfume on my neck and wrists and slipped into four-inch black heels. Grabbing my black leather jacket, purse and keys, I locked the door behind me and headed to the Wrangler.

I didn’t live in the best part of Splendor. My suburb, Ocacia, was eclectic-some wealthy people trying to turn it into yuppie central, like they’d done with neighboring towns. Then there were the lower income families, the elderly and the single, twenty-somethings like me. But, I was as safe as I would be anywhere else. Sam had put a protection spell on my entire apartment building which prohibited anyone who meant me any sort of harm from even stepping foot on our yard.