S. Harper - Cursed

I feel as if I’ve revealed more than enough for one day, for a lifetime. So I answer yes, she knows I’m a Siren, but edit out the details of the two spells Liz works for me—the reverse glamour to hide my true appearance and the dampening spell to diminish my innate powers of seduction. As for his second question, I choose my words carefully and go for the simple truth.

“I knew her grandparents, powerful witches in themselves. They raised Liz when her own parents were killed. She’s a magical mercenary of sorts, selling her services to a variety of individuals. I needed her help with—a personal problem—several years ago. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

Sounds reasonable. No need for Zack to know the “several years” was really “a couple of decades” or that she also happens to be my touchstone when it comes to keeping my heart in line.

At Evan’s, I pull into the same guest spot I occupied yesterday and lead Zack to the condo. Liz pulls the door open before I have a chance to ring. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

She pulls me in, barely acknowledging Zack in her panic.

Zack, however, definitely acknowledges her. I forget how beautiful Liz is until I see her reflected in the eyes of others. Zack’s breath literally catches in his throat. And why shouldn’t it? Liz is five feet seven inches of stunning. Her long hair is a cascade of dark waves that sets off her almond eyes. She’s barefoot, dressed in jeans and a men’s dress shirt, probably one of Evan’s, with the sleeves rolled up. She manages to make this casual outfit look elegant enough for Vogue . Only the dark smudges under her eyes and worry lines pulling at the corner of her mouth mar the image.

There are other indications of her distraction. I know how Liz’s mind works. If she wasn’t so worried about Evan, she’d be interrogating Zack and peppering me with embarrassing questions. Her cool, appraising glance and the way she turns away from Zack after the briefest of handshakes say it all. Her attention is focused on Evan.

“This isn’t like him, Emma.” Liz leads us into the living room. “Not showing for a hearing? It isn’t like him at all.”

Liz and I take seats side by side on the couch, Zack across from us in an armchair.

I take Liz’s hand. “Tell me about the last time you heard from him.”

Liz bites at her lower lip. “The text I told you about last night. It said he was going to be late at the office. Preparing for an important hearing this morning. When I woke up and he wasn’t home, I didn’t worry. I knew he kept clothes at work for just this sort of thing—all-nighters followed by court. It’s happened before.”

She leans toward me. “But this morning, Sid, his assistant, called because Evan missed his court appearance. They had worked together until around midnight. After they’d finished, Sid said he asked Evan if he wanted to stop for a nightcap. There’s a bar right down the street they go to. But Evan begged off. He said he had a quick note to make and then he’d be heading straight home. They were supposed to meet at the courthouse this morning. When Evan didn’t show, Sid got a postponement, then called me to find out what happened. That’s when I knew something was wrong and tried to locate Evan myself.”

She gives Zack a fleeting look and whispers, “Does he know—?”

“That you’re a witch? Yes.”

“I’ve called all our friends. I’ve worked every locator spell I can think of. What comes up has me crazy. A void. He’s yet to be released to absolute death. It’s something worse. It feels as if he’s trapped—on an alternative plane, or that he’s in some kind of altered state. It’s different than simple sleep or unconsciousness. It’s dark, menacing.”

She looks again at Zack, this time with trepidation, as if expecting him to make a comment about how fantastical this sounds. For the moment at least, she’s forgotten that fantastical applies to each of us in this room.

Zack, however, has his eyes on the coffee table. He leans forward and picks up a flyer lying there. “What’s this?”

Liz glances at the brochure in his hand, shrugs. “It’s a program for tonight’s benefit.” She looks at me. “The same one you have tickets for.”

Zack is studying the logo. “Green Leaf. Where have I seen that name?” He opens the program and in the space of a heartbeat, he looks at me with grim seriousness. “Guess who’s on Green Leaf’s board of directors.”

He turns the page around so I can read the name he has his finger perched above. “Dr. Alexander Barakov.”

“Who’s that?” Liz asks.

I have to keep the eagerness out of my voice when I answer her. “Someone Zack and I recently interviewed. Evidently he’s on the Green Leaf board of directors. Has Evan ever mentioned him?”

“I don’t think so. I know Evan’s firm represents the Green Leaf Foundation. That’s why we were invited to the benefit.”

I’m perusing the program. Michael Dexter’s name is listed as a participating artist in the charity auction. Is that the piece he was working on the day before yesterday? No wonder he mentioned a deadline.

“Would you mind calling Evan’s office to see if Dr. Barakov is a client, too?” I ask Liz, wanting a few moments alone with Zack.

“Sure.” Liz stands up “My cell is in the kitchen.”

When she’s gone, I lean toward Zack. “Another vampire gone with a connection to Barakov?”

“When we get back to the office, I’ll check the financial records for Amy and Isabella.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe Barakov isn’t the connection. Maybe this foundation is.”

Liz is back in a minute. She’s carrying a garment bag. Her face reflects the anxiety and fear that’s been racking her mind. “No Barakov on the client list,” she says. “No word from Evan.”

She tosses her cell phone on the couch, passes the garment bag from her left hand to the right.

I rise to give her a hug. “We’ll find him. We have a few things we need to check at the office. Will you be all right here alone?”

Liz steps reluctantly out of my arms. “Yes. Why did you have me check on Barakov?”

I don’t want to alarm Liz, but I don’t want to lie to her, either. “Barakov has been a common denominator in a couple missing persons’ cases. But we don’t have anything solid.”

“He’s connected to Green Leaf, and Evan has connections to Green Leaf. You think this Barakov might have done something to Evan?”

The edge in her voice is razor sharp. The last thing we need is a pissed-off witch going after the wrong guy. Zack realizes that, too, and reacts quickly. “I think we need to give Emma a few minutes alone with him so she can find out. He’ll be at the party.”

Liz peers at me, tossing her head in Zack’s direction. “He knows about you, too?”

I nod.

She frowns. That he knows my true nature, and that he could only know it if I told him, makes our connection too intimate for her approval.

The atmosphere in the room becomes stiflingly oppressive.

Zack feels the tension between Liz and me and, once again, breaks the silence. “Let’s not forget it’s possible there’s another explanation for why you can’t locate Evan. You already mentioned an alternative reality. What else could interfere with your scrying?”

“You mean like a shield of some sort?” Liz suggests.

“Any way for you to determine if that’s what’s blocking you?” he asks.

I can see her wheels turning. Zack has given her something to focus on besides me . . . or Barakov. Something that not only will keep her busy, but could be a huge help.

“Maybe. A shield that strong would take a lot of energy. I’ll keep trying my locator spells and start looking for pockets of unusual power.” She glances down at the garment bag as if just remembering it. “Take this, before I forget.”