H Mallory - To Kill A Warlock

It even worked on Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Sam lives in the suburb just next to Ocacia-Cumquat. Her neighborhood is nicer than mine-the yuppies got to it first.

When I turned onto her street, I pulled out my cell phone and gave her a ring, not wanting to waste time parking and walking up to the door. Hey, it wasn’t like I was her date or something. The phone rang twice before she picked up.

“I’ll be there in two seconds,” I said.

She hung up, and I pulled in front of her white house. The garden’s the best part of Sam’s place. She’s an avid gardener and has every sort of flower blooming out front-azaleas, roses, snapdragons and honeysuckle just to name a few. I’ve had potted plants over the years, but I don’t have much of a green thumb. Kind of ironic considering I’m a fairy, a child of nature, but there you have it. It’d be more apropos to call me a child of concrete and asphalt.

Sam came out wearing her black pants and a blue tube top. She locked her door and jogged down her long entryway, not an easy feat given her high heels. I never understood why tall women wore heels. When you’re five-one like me, you need all the help you can get.

I whistled. “Look at you.”

She threw open the door and climbed in, giving me the once over as I pulled into the street. “Look at yourself,” she said and turned my CD player on. The Chemical Brothers came pounding out in an array of techno beats as Sam settled into her seat.

“What’s this?” she asked, leaning down between her feet and grasping a brochure I hadn’t wanted her to see.

Heat shot to my face. “Oh, it’s…it’s nothing. Just some junk mail.”

“If you feel self conscious about your ears,” she read as I cringed. “Call Dr. Goodman for a free consultation to learn how ear augmentation can work for you.” She tapped the brochure against her hand. “Dulcie, tell me you aren’t thinking about getting your ears done? Come on, that’s so not you.” There was no point in lying to her. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.” “But that’s what makes you a fairy, Dulce.” “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Sam frowned. “Does this have anything to do with Jack?”

Jack was my ex boyfriend of five years-the jerk who’d cheated on me. He’d always made fun of my ears, calling me Tinker Bell. “No, it has nothing to do with Jack.” “Okay, but isn’t it enough that you have beautiful hair and gorgeous green eyes? And you have the best nose in three counties.” I shook my head. “I was just thinking of going in for a consultation. It’s free and I don’t have to agree to anything.” “Sometimes I just don’t get you. If you do go, will you take me with you?” “Only if you’ll be open minded about it.” She nodded. “I will be.” She was quiet for a minute. “So, are you going to talk to Bram about Fabian?”

I bobbed my head and turned up the heater. “That and I want to ask him about that stranger I saw. Just find out if he’s seen or heard anything unusual.” “Are we going to Dagan’s too?” “No, not if I can help it. Ugh, I hate going there.” “Yeah, it’s not exactly a charming place.”

I turned a corner and No Regrets loomed before us, the place painted black so you couldn’t delineate it from the dark night sky. A bright red electric sign screamed from the wall and looked like it was floating. A line was already forming around the building. It was the one place where all the creatures of the Netherworld hung out. You might get a few humans thrown in here and there but most times, Bram kept them out. Most Netherworld creatures weren’t crazy about hanging out with humans.

“Crap, look at the line,” Sam said.

I pulled up in front and noticed Bram standing outside with Nick, the ogre. Nick was huge-just shy of eight feet, and he was as big as a wall. Nick’s face was broad, and his nose was flat and wide, with a bull’s ring through the middle. His eyes were too small for his face and his mouth, too big.

Ogres are known for having terrible tempers, and Nick was no exception. I’d seen him bounce a few wily wolves, and it hadn’t been pretty. Broken bones had been the result…and not Nick’s.

A huge smile lit Bram’s handsome face. He was tall-six-five and broad. Standing next to Nick, though, he looked emaciated. When Bram had been turned into a vampire, he’d had a day’s or so growth of stubble, so now he permanently looked the rogue. His looks tied with his English accent gave Colin Firth a run for his money (and I mean when Colin was the Mr. Darcy). “Ladies, ladies,” he said, materializing directly next to Sam. She tightened her jaw, but other than that, she looked totally at ease. “Can I park in the back, Bram?” I asked, noting there wasn’t a spot to be had on the street. He rested his long fingers on the Wrangler’s passenger door. “Please. Park next to me. I am pleased to see you both.” Sam rolled her eyes, and I just shook my head. Bram was the quintessential flirt. “Are you going to let go so I can go park or what?” He smirked with a great show of fangs and let go of the door as if it’d been scalding hot. Course, he was dead, so he wouldn’t notice cold or heat or anything else.

I pulled into the back of the No Regrets lot. Bram’s black Porsche beamed under the lamplight like it was proud of itself. I parked in the space next to it.

“Hopefully, Bram will be too busy tonight to bother us,” I said. “After I get my information out of him, that is.”

Sam laughed. “He seems to always make time where you’re concerned.”

I just shook my head and turned the car off as Sam and I jumped out. The back way in was always locked, so we walked around the front. As we passed the long line, I didn’t miss the angry yells and insults those still stuck in line threw at us. “Hey!” Nick yelled down the line. “Take it elsewhere if you don’t like it.” “Hi, Nick,” I said, always a little intimidated by the gargantuan guy. He was like looking up a redwood tree. “Dulcie and Sam,” he said with a drop of his head. Nick had it something bad for Sam, but she was as scared of him as I was. “Ah, you got my message, sweet,” Bram said, coming up behind us.

Tension filtered through my shoulders at the mention of “sweet”. Bram thought it was cute or something-Dulce meaning sweet in Spanish. So not original and so freaking annoying.

“I have some Regulator business to discuss with you, Bram,” I said.

He just smiled and leaned his elbow against Nick’s shoulder, who was sitting on a barstool. Bram reached for Sam’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Lovely to see you, Samantha.”

She grumbled something unintelligible and started for the door. Nick gazed at her like she was chocolate and he was on a diet. Bram reached for my hand, but I batted his away. “Just say hello like any normal person would, Bram.” He chuckled and dropped his hand. “Do you have your identification on you, Dulcie, Sweet?” “My ID?” I repeated while irritation blazed through me. The bastard was going to ID me? “If you are on business, I need to see your A.N.C. ID, Sweet. It’s only standard protocol.” My ID was sitting on my desk looking at the ceiling and doing me absolutely no good. Goddamit. “I don’t have it,” I said. “What was that, Sweet?” Bram repeated.

I extended my hand, knowing I’d have to deal with his ministrations if I were to get inside the club and get him to answer even the simplest of questions. He took my hand and rather than kissing it, pulled me into the hard length of his chest. I squeaked in protest as he bent his head, grabbing my neck to hold me in place. Then he kissed me over my jugular. My heart pounded in my chest, as if it wanted to bust free and punch him in the face.