Don't Hex and Drive Page 6

  He smiled, teeth and all, though still no canines showing, thankfully. That would be off-putting to say the least. No respectable woman wanted to get too close to a hungry vampire. I’d heard the thrall of being a blood host was completely intoxicating, but being caught in such a state with a vampire was not wise. They were predatory creatures, no matter how pretty the veneer. Besides, I wasn’t a fan of losing control of my faculties. Or of losing anything for that matter.

  “I just wanted to wish you a good morning,” he said sincerely. Which was a little aggravating for some reason.

  He didn’t need to stop me on the street. We weren’t friends. A passing “morning” with a polite wave would have sufficed.

  I gave him a deep nod, grinding my teeth together. “And to you.” I started to walk around him, but he moved again to block me.

  Irritated, I finally looked up and held his gaze, wondering why he was messing with me. The intensity of his whiskey-colored eyes blazed bright. I arched a brow at him, wondering why he was holding me hostage.

  He seemed to snap out of his daze, clearing his throat. “Your bicycle should be delivered to your house this afternoon.”

  Clasping my hands in front of me, I dipped my chin down, staring at the tip of my sandal, a little scuffed and worn. “Thank you. Sounds good.” I moved to go around him, but he shifted to keep me from leaving. Again!

  “Wait.” He blew out a heavy sigh, a frown creasing his brow. “I feel like I should buy you dinner or something.” He flicked a hand, seemingly frustrated with the words coming out of his mouth. “To make up for the whole incident.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I feel like I owe you.”

  “But you really don’t,” I explained with a shake of my head. The idea of spending an entire meal alone with him shot my pulse off like a rocket.

  “Lunch?”

  “No, thank you. I’m busy.”

  “Every day this week?”

  “Yes.”

  “You never eat lunch?”

  “I eat lunch,” I injected with a touch of annoyance. “But I prefer to get something from the Cauldron. It’s fast and easy.”

  “Ah.” He bit his lower lip, drawing my eyes to the movement and the smile he held back. “I see.”

  “What?” I asked, wondering why I felt so disoriented and confused in this vampire’s presence.

  “You just don’t want to have lunch with me.”

  Bingo. But I’d never tell him so.

  I shook my head vigorously, licking my lips nervously. “It’s not that. I mean, I’m busy. You’re busy. I’m sure a Stygorn like yourself has plenty of work to do.”

  His smile widened. “You’ve been asking about me?”

  “My sister Jules told me why you were here.”

  “Is that what makes you so nervous around me?”

  “Look, I’ve got to go.” Evasive maneuvers. I glanced over his shoulder, ready to be on my way.

  “Is it my acting career that bothers you?”

  Not that I’d seen his movies, but the idea of him being a celebrity actually made me cringe. To have your life under a microscope where everyone watched you, wanted something from you. The thought of hanging with someone where all eyes could be on us also made me want to run and hide.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my heartbeat to slow her ass down. “Yes, it bothers me,” I answered as politely as possible. “But even so, it would make no difference. The answer is still no.”

  He let out a bark of laughter, his eyes swimming with the heat rising in the morning air. He gave me another one of those charming smiles. Though they might melt other girls into puddles of goo, it didn’t affect me. Much.

  Then he commanded, “Have lunch with me.”

  I felt it. A push of magic, pulsing along my skin and breaking against my internal barrier. The sizzle raised the hairs on my arms, but it didn’t have the effect he hoped for.

  My mouth dropped open, and I shook my head on a scoff. “Nice try, but glamour doesn’t work on me.”

  It never had. Only very powerful vampires could use their glamour to try to influence other supernaturals. But it had never worked on me.

  His expression softened with amusement, rather than annoyance.

  I reached inside my bag and pulled out my bottle of water, some of my loose notes sticking to the sides as condensation had formed on the plastic in the heat. I should’ve used a koozie to keep it cold for the walk. I was suddenly in need of a drink to cool off my rising temper at this nitwit holding me up.

  I shoved my notes back inside then uncapped my water bottle, taking a swig. He watched, his gaze dropping to the pavement before he shifted closer, back into my space. I hefted the strap of my bag into a better position on my shoulder.

  “Honestly, I’m a little disappointed you’d try to lure me with glamour,” I admitted on a huffy breath, watching a woman walk past with her Golden Labradoodle leading her. So cute! I was ready to be done with this conversation and be on my way, but I couldn’t help asking, “Isn’t that kind of beneath your stature as a celebrity and elite vampire?”

  His mouth dropped open in surprise, but laughter still shone in his eyes. “I was attempting to lure you to lunch, not to my dark lair for nefarious reasons.”

  “So you say,” I mumbled before quickly darting around him, my skirt swishing. “Have a good day, Mr. Kumar.”

  Walking faster, I couldn’t help but feel his eyes boring into my back. So I picked up my pace, anxious to get to Angel Paws.

  I mean, what was his deal? If he really wanted to make up for hitting me with his car, he could buy me some new potting soil, perhaps some new planters. But to be honest, as long as he fixed my bike, we would be totally even. He could just let it go. Pretend it never happened, and we could move on with our separate lives. Emphasis on separate.

  I swung open the glass door of Angel Paws and marched down the corridor, waving as I passed the reception window. “Hey, Trudie. It’s just me.”

  “Morning, Isadora. They’ll be happy to see you.”

  I rushed quickly through the gate when Trudie buzzed me in. The soft padding of feet and welcome whimpers greeted me.

  “Hey, you guys,” I said sweetly.

  A dozen wagging tails swished and wiggled inside the kennels. I started at the end, opening my canvas bag and pulling out their treats. After crouching down, I slid my hand in between the bars of the first kennel where a new yellow Labrador mix stared back at me. The handwritten tag on her door read Frannie.

  “Here you go, little lady,” I cooed. Her tail wagged as she reached out tentatively to my open palm. As she licked the treat away, I pushed a pulse of magic into her. The energy heated a trail down my arm and tingled along my fingertips. She jumped back, shocked by the zap, then her ears perked up, her tail wagging harder.

  “Good girl.”

  I smiled and moved on, making sure to give Oscar two treats because he was obviously older than most in here with a gray muzzle around his terrier snout. Hardly anyone adopted an older dog. If I could give them just a little longer to live, a little boost to help them with any sickness they might have, then I would keep coming back in hopes they’d all find good homes.

  I’d wished so many times that Angel Paws had a bigger network or something to find homes for these guys. They took good care of them, letting them out in the yard in the back daily. But they needed love and affection, not just food and board. My heart yearned to do more, but beyond adopting them all, I didn’t know what else I could do.

  Finally, I reached the last cage where my favorite little man sat waiting with his sweet eyes staring up at me.

  “Hello, Archie. Did you miss me?”

  He wagged his short tail harder. He was so scruffy and scroungy even after Trudie bathed him. He was just one of those mutts that was so ugly he was cute. I’d thought of bringing him home a hundred times, but I couldn’t imagine him getting along with Zombie Cat and Fred. Z was so old he could barely escape
a good pecking from Fred when the dang rooster was in one of his territorial, ornery moods.

  Archie had been caught and brought into Angel Paws as a stray “going after” a lady’s cats over on Camp Street. I couldn’t ask Evie to give up her beloved Z or bring in another pet who might hurt him.

  “How are you doing, my best man?”

  I held my palm between the bars. He licked the treat, then kept licking my palm, almost like he was lapping up the magic I poured into him.

  “You like that?”

  He let out a whimper-bark and spun in a circle, his little dance to get me to give him more. He blinked sweetly from under the tuft of hair covering his eyes.

  “Okay,” I said on a laugh. “You don’t have to convince me.”

  I pulled out another treat and fed it to him.

  “If only men were as easy to figure out as you, Archie.” I scratched his scruffy goldish-red head. “But they’re not. And so aggravating.”

  He yipped, jumping up to put his paws on the cage. I scratched him under the chin.

  “I agree with you. Why bother with men at all?”

  He tilted his head to the right, one floppy ear tipping up, the other down.

  “If I could find a man as cute as you, then I’d be the happiest girl in the world.”

  He yipped again and spun in another circle. I chuckled, reaching into my bag to find him one more treat.

  Unfortunately, men weren’t as easy to read or as easy to please as Archie. And why was I thinking of men anyway? I’d decided I was perfectly happy without them. Nothing they could do for me I couldn’t do myself.

  That reminded me, I needed to find my package.

  Chapter 5

  ~DEVRAJ~

  * * *

  I lifted my foot and picked up the scrap of paper Isadora had dropped from her purse. Was it ungentlemanly to semi-steal a note that wasn’t mine? Yes. But I’d glimpsed my name in a feminine scrawl which suddenly negated all rules of a gentleman.

  Once I’d read what was on the paper, I huffed out a disbelieving breath, stuffed it into my pocket then walked into the empty bookstore. I strolled past vintage bookshelves into the lounge area with plush furniture in blue, silver, and black. Dark wood tables topped with Tiffany lamps and votive candles gave the sophisticated but warm ambiance that suited Ruben’s style.

  The man himself sat in the wingback next to the blue velvet sofa in the farthest corner, dressed impeccably with a steaming cup of coffee beside him as he scrolled through his phone.

  “Morning. Your grim isn’t here yet?”

  “Not yet.” He swiped his thumb across the screen and set it aside, flashing a tight smile. “You seem to be in a pleasant mood today. Care to share?”

  “Not in the least.” I took a seat on the velvet sofa and stretched an arm along the back, crossing an ankle over my knee and nodded at his phone. “Something up?”

  “Not really,” he grumbled, fiddling with a cuff link. “I thought Jules would want to be included in this meeting, seeing as she’s the Enforcer of New Orleans. But she has work.”

  “You can just relay it back to her,” I offered matter-of-factly. “Why so twitchy about it?”

  He shot me an icy glare, but there was no true heat in it. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about his tumultuous relationship with Jules. That’s what friends do.

  “Anyway,” he cleared his throat. “You want some coffee or tea? Barbara’s back in the office and could get you something.”

  “I’m good.”

  The bookstore door opened and closed.

  “There he is now.”

  I prepared myself for the dark push of his magic, throwing up my guards. Old vampires could counteract the effects of grim magic with their own.

  Grims weren’t witches, even though some called them sorcerers, but their magic was similar to Auras like Isadora’s sister, Clara. But whereas Auras pumped only positive emotions into others, grims did the opposite. It wasn’t always negative emotions, exactly, but darker ones. Primitive, carnal urges that lived in everyone. Grims could pull those emotions to the surface and coerce a person to act on them.

  Ruben’s mysterious grim sauntered in, carrying a black messenger bag. His jeans looked a hundred years old. Probably were. He wore a short-sleeve black Nirvana T-shirt with the dead-man smiley face, revealing a full sleeve of tattoos on one arm and a half on the other, his hands inked, too. There was even an unidentifiable tattoo spiking from under the neck of his T-shirt, like prongs wrapping up one side of his throat.

  His milk-pale skin and coal-black hair and eyes gave him an otherworldly air even without his grim magic pushing and pulling on me. The intrusion of his magic forced an image in my mind. A flash of blond hair, slim thighs, the hem of her skirt. That skirt hiking higher.

  Fuck. I punched up a fortress-thick wall of magic to block it out. I sure as hell didn’t need this guy’s powers steering me down the carnal lane of naked Isadora. I had enough problems resisting those thoughts without his influence.

  He gave Ruben a nod as he took a seat next to me, instantly setting down his bag to pull out a laptop.

  I offered my hand to shake. “Devraj Kumar.”

  He shook my hand politely with a flick of his black eyes, then opened his laptop without a word. The laptop had no branding. Probably a creation of his own. Grims were known to be techy, since computers were the best tools to find and store information.

  “No name?” I asked, knowing damn well he wouldn’t give it to me.

  He glanced at me sideways as he booted up the laptop. “We’ll see,” he answered cryptically, his voice husky and deep.

  Ruben laughed.

  He was enjoying this. As a Stygorn, I had access to extensive data and never had to break a sweat to get the most top secret information I needed for any reason. And here was this punk grim refusing to give me his name. I shook my head on a laugh.

  Once his screen was open with a listing of video files labeled with dates, he angled the screen to face us, but he spoke to Ruben.

  “You asked me how I knew the kidnappers were vampires.”

  “Kidnappers plural?” I asked.

  “Definitely,” he said with certain confidence. “My cousin developed software that tracks vampires.”

  Ruben leaned forward, scowling. “Say that again.”

  His light mood had vanished at the thought of vampires being tracked. My hackles raised, too.

  The grim wasn’t affected in the least by Ruben’s death-glare. “Just listen,” he commanded.

  And I do mean commanded. I wanted to laugh at the balls on this guy. But Ruben must’ve trusted him because he eased up, lacing his fingers in his lap.

  The grim tapped his laptop screen on the file labeled Demo362. “Watch this. It’s surveillance that tracks heat signatures.”

  An infrared birds-eye view of a street showed the heat signatures of people walking, some moving in and out of buildings.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “This is a demo my cousin ran last year when he was developing the software. This is Bourbon Street on a Saturday night. As you see, some of these signatures are running hotter than others.” He pointed to some that were outlined more red-orange than others. “Those are vampires. Possibly witches. And this guy, you can tell he’s a werewolf.” He pointed to one person stalking down a side street, his signature deep, full red. “But check out this group here.”

  He pointed to a group of five break off down an alley off of Bourbon, walking for half a block before the signatures blurred, flaring yellow as they disappeared off the screen. The screen zoomed out, revealing more of the dark city and the group who’d blurred away. They streaked six blocks away then stopped along Magazine Street before they slowed to walking again.

  “Damn,” whispered Ruben. “I want to buy this software.”

  The grim grinned, a devious glint in his eyes. “Not sure my cousin has plans to sell it just yet.”

  “Then why create i
t?” I asked.

  He tapped to minimize the video. “We have our own motives for tracking.” He turned to Ruben. “But in the case of these missing girls, he’s definitely willing to lend a hand.”

  “How does he get these views of the city?” I watched the screen, realizing what a wide view he had of New Orleans and the suburbs surrounding.

  “Government satellites, drones,” he answered nonchalantly.

  Like just anyone had access to such a thing. I glanced at Ruben with an is-this-guy-for-real look? Ruben shook his head as the grim went on.

  “So I talked to my cousin. I gave him the dates and locations of the girls’ disappearances.”

  “He got them?” I asked, my pulse tripping faster.

  “Only one.” He licked his lips, tapping on the laptop. “The thing is, this software is under development and has its limitations. If we know where to watch, then we can track them entirely using our own drones. But we don’t have cameras everywhere all the time.”

  “So if they trace out of range, then you can’t follow?” asked Ruben.

  “Exactly,” he answered. “Our range covers the city though.”

  I leaned forward, wanting a better view of the laptop screen. “I can follow a vampire’s trace anywhere, as long as I’m within a few minutes of where he starts.”

  The grim paused and angled a questioning expression at me, but it was Ruben who replied, “He’s a Stygorn.”

  The grim’s brows raised and his mouth tilted, seemingly impressed. “Cool.”

  He then clicked on a new video file labeled with the name Barrel Proof and the date of the last disappearance. Emma Thomas.

  “I asked my cousin to focus on Magazine Street bars last week since that’s where the girls have gone missing. Since the three bars where the girls were taken were all within a few blocks of each other in the Garden District, I had a hunch our kidnappers stuck to familiar hunting grounds.”

  A wide view of the city popped on screen with pinpoints of infrared movement, then slowly zoomed onto one building in particular. A few people walked casually in the parking lot toward the street.