Charming People (Driftwood Mystery Book 3) Page 2

  “I wouldn’t have, if not for you.”

  Another smile, handshake, hug. I wasn’t used to people being this friendly around Nick. The whole blood-drinking vampire thing usually set him apart.

  Axel Hayden wore a light gray suit and a white Panama straw hat that matched the mansion: it reminded me more of an old southern plantation than the cabins I’d seen on the mainland. Wide, striking verandas and porches surrounded the white-washed columns and arched windows and doors.

  There were a lot more windows than I’d be comfortable with living on an island with lost wolves. I tried to remind myself that the warded material didn’t matter, and glass would do just as well as wood or steel under the influence of magic.

  “This must be the fantastic Ms. Driftwood.”

  Axel reached for my hand as Nick returned to open the car door for me. We shook and Axel’s smile spread, creasing wrinkles around his eyes.

  “She is lovely, Nick.” He never looked away from me.

  “She is also standing right here, as I’m sure she will remind you,” he said with a knowing nod at me. He shut the car door. “And I am taking her with me when I leave, so don’t bother trying, Axel.”

  Axel still held my hand. He placed his other on top, making sure I didn’t escape. “Ms. Driftwood... May I call you Jette? Jette, I did some research, and I discovered that since the Jarvais incident you are the only living practitioner of magic that originated more than two thousand years ago. What is that like?”

  I turned to Nick, at a loss for words.

  “Axel is a collector,” Nick said. He kept his smile fixed the entire time. “In addition to werewolves, this island houses some of the rarest magical artifacts known to the Bleak. He wants to collect you.”

  Nick’s smile slowly turned genuine as he saw the look on my face.

  I looked back into Axel’s gleaming brown eyes. I laid my free hand atop his two. “It’s an honor, Mr. Hayden, and I’d be happy to discuss it with you. Will there be a chance, during our short visit, to view your collection?”

  “I’ve nothing but time for you, my dear.” He let my hands go. “But first, I need to catch up with Warren. Please, follow me. Rogers will take care of the bags.”

  He led us through two large double doors and into an oval-shaped entryway. Up a spiral staircase adorned with gilded-frame oil paintings and down a long hall littered with enormous geodes and ancient pottery atop pedestals, we found ourselves in a richly decorated office. A built-in bookshelf covered every wall, stretching all the way up to the vaulted ceiling and covered in orderly books, statuettes, iron plates, bone carvings, warped mirrors, and glass jars filled with various dried plants, minerals, and substances.

  The sounds given off by the magic were exquisite and overwhelming. Axel cast off his hat, letting it glide on a spell to the hook on the other side of the room.

  My ears pricked up as the sound of the spell went sharp, and the reason for Axel’s close companionship with the Bleak and all of their beautiful artifacts became apparent.

  Axel had a condition known by scholars as magicae e converso, or as I had come to call them at a young age, sharp casters. For the vast majority of witches, the spell begins at the source: the individual casting it. For sharp casters, the spell began at the target before striking back to the source. It was thought to be a rare bloodline anomaly originating with mixed troll heritage many thousands of years ago, but no one could prove it. Well-trained sharp casters were a highly sought commodity in restoration work for their ability to work magic without pushing a signature like most users. Because the magic started on the artifact and not with the caster, the object was never actually touched.

  It was the magic equivalent of wearing latex gloves to prevent errant fingerprints. I’d met less than twenty other people in my whole life who cast magic that way, and that was including the stable of specialists the Bleak kept.

  A sparkle by the window caught my eye. “My gods. That’s it, isn’t it? The Iron Ruby?”

  I was across the room and breathlessly staring at the gem before Axel could even answer.

  “It is,” Axel said, coming to stand beside me. “I had it brought out of storage just for you, because I have to know.”

  “Know?” I looked back at him, and then wished I hadn’t. Over his shoulder I saw at least another half dozen items so famous that I knew them by name and their stories by heart.

  “You have a unique gift, Ms. Driftwood, and the debate has worn on for centuries. I wonder if you can tell us: were the Jarvais Topaz and the Iron Ruby created by the same sorcerer?”

  My hands started to shake and I took a step back. The stolen magic within me stirred and reached out, leaving goosebumps down my arms and legs. He was asking me to rewrite the history books based on evidence that no one else could confirm. “Oh, I couldn’t. I can’t make that claim by myself.”

  “On the contrary, you’re the best qualified individual that I have ever met. But if you prefer, we can keep this secret to ourselves.” He gave me a charming, pleading smile. “Consider it a birthday present.”

  I brought a hand to my chest, pointing to the place where the stolen magic from the Topaz liked to settle. “It sounds like a harmony. The same tune.”

  Axel’s eyes stayed steady. “They were both engineered by Bilel Farid?”

  I nodded. “I can hear the differences. All of the restorations over the years. The additional stores of magic. Beneath it all, it’s the same song. Yes, I believe they were both created by the same person.”

  The Jarvais Topaz was undoubtedly a Farid creation, and every history book agreed. Wars had been fought over the origin and rightful ownership of the Iron Ruby.

  “Extraordinary.” He gave Nick a wink as he pivoted to sit at his desk. “Magnificent. Thank you, Jette. Warren, are you sure I can’t buy her from you?”

  I frowned, suddenly unsure what he was asking.

  “I’ll triple whatever he’s paying you for your expertise,” Axel said with a sly smile. “The things you could do with the artifacts I’ve amassed... I can’t even begin to imagine.”

  Nick looked from Axel to me, waiting patiently.

  And gods help me, I was tempted. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  Axel leaned back in his chair, his eyes sliding from me to Nick and back. He pursed his lips and nodded. “She seems a little young for you, Warren. I think I warned you about grave robbers.” He cracked a smile at his joke, but neither of us laughed. Axel’s face went serious. “Gods, it’s serious?”

  “It’s new,” Nick said. “And age starts to lose meaning once you get old enough.”

  Axel flashed a genuine smile. He nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean anything by it, and I do wish you both the best. I hope you’ll both come back and visit often. Assuming I’m alive, of course.”

  Nick scoffed. “You’re in good health. You’ve still got years ahead of you.”

  Axel raised his eyebrows, looking down at his desk. “I hope so. But I think someone is trying to kill me.”

  Chapter 3

  Nick took a chair opposite Axel. He lowered his tone. “Getting paranoid in your old age, Axel?”

  “You know how I took to habitually testing my urine for toxins after that unfortunate incident with Order Initiate Laurence Abernathy?”

  “Unfortunately,” Nick grumbled.

  Axel’s eyes narrowed. “The strip finally turned blue.”

  Nick leaned back, his eyes filled with skepticism.

  Axel stood and started to pace. “I tested everything on the island. I hired spies to check into my deliveries and food sources. They turned up nothing. What do you say to that?”

  Nick nodded. “That you probably ran into a bad batch of test strips. Thirty years, old man. It was bound to happen once.”

  “I used four different boxes.”

  Nick considered for a moment. “If you went through four boxes, you may want to get your prostate checked, too.”

  “Warren.”
/>
  “What kind of toxin?” I asked.

  Axel looked over at me.

  I crossed my arms, shaking my head. “I’m just curious. It’s not the first poisoning I’ve encountered.”

  He turned to face me. “THC.”

  I lowered my chin, trying not to jump to any conclusions. It continued to surprise me how much my time in the evidence room with Marge paid off. “You’re aware that THC means marijuana, correct? And it’s doubtful that it would kill you?”

  “I don’t partake,” Axel said seriously. “Someone was drugging me. I apologize for not being more upfront with you about this visit, but I want to know why. It is of the utmost importance that no one knows my suspicions. I couldn’t have it getting out before your arrival, and the rest of the guests arrive tonight.”

  “You suspect someone?” Nick asked.

  “It pains me, but yes.” Axel leaned forward, putting both his hands on his desk. “My son is my heir on my death. I just rewrote the damned will to finalize it. I don’t know how he found out, but the shenanigans started right after.”

  Nick put on his work mask again. All emotion disappeared from his face. “You believe Amos is capable of this?”

  “I believe Amos has been largely cut off from my fortune for the last decade,” Axel said. “The boy liked to play at being a starving artist more than he liked attending to our business. I wanted him to know what it was to be a starving artist. And I know people have done worse things for less money. I want you to find nothing, Nick, but I have to know. I will compensate you for your time.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “I lured you here with a lie.” Axel laid both hands flat on his desk again.

  “I’m a handler and you’re a specialist,” Nick said dismissively. “Protecting you is in the interest of the Bleak. This is my job.”

  “How patriotic of you.” Axel’s eyes narrowed and he flashed a smile. “Your job pays in bounties and by the caseload, unless the Bleak changed the rules behind my back. Your job isn’t paying you right now because you’re supposed to be on vacation. You’d be required to report on these events, were you on the clock and doing this officially, thereby giving my son an undesirable record which we won’t know he deserves until after your investigation concludes. I’m asking you to do this freelance for a fee to keep it off the books. Legitimately, of course. The Bleak has no say in what you do on vacation.”

  Fancy, technical way of saying “hush money”. The Bleak had a say in everything everyone did, always. Even so, I couldn’t blame him. Being on the Bleak’s radar was never a good thing.

  Nick stood up. “Of course. I’ll start immediately.”

  Axel raised a hand to stop him before he turned to go. “Take a day. Show Jette around the property. You’re supposed to be on vacation, after all. And as your talented friend pointed out, my idiot son is trying to kill me with weed. It can wait a day.”

  I turned to follow Nick out of the office. Axel gave me a kindly smile and a wink as I left.

  NICK TEXTED THE WHOLE way to our rooms, hardly looking up as we took turn after turn through the labyrinthine mansion. We finally arrived at two adjacent doors with our bags set outside. Nick stopped and turned back to me. His face was grave.

  “You think someone is trying to kill him?” I asked.

  “When someone comes to me thinking they’re going to die, they’re usually right,” he said. “That said, normal people don’t religiously test their urine for thirty years straight and leap to the conclusion of murder when THC is detected. Axel has always been paranoid. I sent out some queries, and we’ll see what turns up. Are you going to be okay sleeping alone?”

  His demeanor changed and he stood a little straighter.

  “Excuse me?”

  Nick shrugged. “It’s an island full of werewolves and a suspected murderer on the loose.”

  “Got it.” I cracked a smile. “This is the Nicholas Warren brand of taking a date to a horror movie.”

  “I just thought you might feel safer if we stay in the same room,” he said dismissively. “We’ve stayed in the same room before. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to offer.”

  “Oh, it’s a big deal now. A very big deal.” I crossed my arms. “I’ve seen horror movies. That girl dies first.”

  “Well, I’ll be right next door if you need me—”

  I grabbed my bag from the floor and pulled him into my room by the front of his shirt.

  “—Okay. Well, unless Marge did your packing, you grabbed the wrong bag.”

  I held him loosely by the shirt. “You could have mentioned any of this before the trip, you know. The Iron Ruby. The wolves. I’m pretty sure I saw three Picassos and an Egyptian glyph box just walking to our rooms.”

  I let go, but Nick didn’t move away. He stayed close, changing his posture to come a few inches closer, even. “I wouldn’t have known if you were accepting the invitation for the glyph box or refusing for the wolves.”

  “You’re looking very pleased with yourself.”

  “We’ve been here less than an hour and I’m already in your room,” he winked. “I must have judged something right by inviting you here.”

  I stepped back, shaking my head as I lifted my bag onto the bed in my suite. The walls were a warm tan and the carpet was soft beneath my shoes. This was more than judging me right.

  Even with the wolves, which were marvels in their own right, this was a dream vacation. A dream that couldn’t be bought, either—I doubted that Axel Hayden gave tours to the general public. This event was by invitation only.

  I had two weeks to explore the most exclusive museum in the world with a personal tour guide.

  I was at a loss for words.

  Nick walked to the windows, opening the drapes to reveal a view of the channel and the unending forest on either side.

  “You loved it here,” I said.

  “I did.”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “Circumstances.”

  I let it go. If he didn’t want to tell me, he would only lie if I pressed him. “Is this where you got the scar?”

  He turned his back to the window, studying me. “Yes. The day I saved Axel’s life. It was a unique situation. You don’t need to worry about the wolves.”

  I took my stacks of clothes and put them into a dresser. “I’m not afraid of the wolves.”

  He walked over to me, hands in his pockets. His eyes wandered down from my face before snapping back. “Come and get me when you’re done. I’ll give you a tour.”

  THE MANSION AND SURROUNDING grounds were enormous. Small libraries and museum-like exhibits were sprinkled throughout a maze of bedrooms and functional living spaces. A conservatory housed exotic plants—most so dangerous that the Bleak didn’t allow them to be privately owned, but Axel had them.

  I saw the cursed hands of Rasputin. Axel had not one, but three Song Dynasty trove boxes: one more than I had previously known to exist.

  He had elements and plants that even Bleak agents weren’t allowed access to. Walking through one of his planted conservatories, I saw blue jade, tinberry, burned hearts...

  Dead devil—a plant so lethal it had to be viewed through specially treated glass because the sight of it could curse unwary travelers. That wasn’t even the reason the Bleak kept it near extinction and restricted from the general population. Dead devil could break the powerful enchantments they put on their afflicted agents: it could remove the magic shackles from vampires, werewolves, zombies, and pretty much anything else.

  Nick watched me. It took everything I had not press my face against the glass like an eager child. Dead devil was a fungus, and none of the pictures did it justice. It lay in the bottom of its enclosure like a small, rotting corpse, growing fat, black fingers and tendrils crowed with purple and yellow fringe over the bits of rotting wood and dead mice they fed it through an access port at the top.

  Beautiful.

  Nick leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Only you could b
e breathless over something like this.”

  Thank the gods that works in your favor. Befriending a vampire—even one of the Bleak’s daywalkers—was outside of the social norm. Entering an intimate relationship, let alone a romantic one, was taboo on many levels.

  Thank the gods that Marge didn’t know about the social norms of the magic community.

  Nick saved the best for last. There was a large central library and functional work area. I knew the workbenches all too well. Everything from the spacing between the desks to the standard-issue mineral and flora kits took me back to my job as a breaker.

  “How did I not know this place existed?” I asked, dragging my hand along one of the cold, smooth granite desks. I stared at the semi-circle wall of windows that gazed out across the forest to the ocean beyond. A long spiral staircase led up to a telescope stationed beneath a retractable roof, and an entire wall was covered in books so rare that I couldn’t believe they were out in the open. They should have been behind glass.

  Or a steel vault door. Or...

  The whole place is protected. You’re already inside, behind the glass with the treasures.

  Digital information and databases were a relatively recent thing for the Bleak, but Axel had already renovated the space to include several computer workstations.

  “I’m sure you did,” Nick said, smiling as I sat down at one of the workbenches. “They don’t call it Grand-Grey Hayden Island. In all official correspondence it’s referred to as Vault C.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “No. This place isn’t big enough.”

  Stepping closer to me, he looked around the expanse of the room. “The mansion isn’t. The foundations are.”

  “There’s more?” I leaned forward in disbelief.

  He shrugged with a fake show of indifference. “I can take you down there. Only if you’re interested, though. It’s secluded. Not the kind of place most people would want to be alone with a vampire.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re a player. How many other women have you brought here?”