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| DON'T LET GO SPELLBOUND Chapter One “You have got to be kidding me.” Sabrina Lancaster Jacobs glanced down at the knife pointed at her abdomen. Her heart kicked against her ribs, but she swallowed the first sharp tang of fear the second it rolled across her tongue. After all, she knew something the mugger in front of her didn’t. Something that gave her the edge regardless of the weapon within inches of slicing her from navel to sternum. If the guy had the balls for it. Bree studied the teen dressed in a stained white T-shirt and ripped jeans, his oily blond hair falling in clumpy strands down his unshaven face. Tattoos decorated each arm from wrist to shoulder. She had to give the kid credit for at least going to someone who was somewhat skilled with their artwork. She’d come across more than her share who’d foolishly plunked down cold cash with any Tom, Dick or Harry who had Tattoos scrawled across their door. The teen’s hand trembled, his eyes glassy. He probably needed a fix. He flexed his fingers around the hilt, readjusting his grip. “I don’t got all night, lady.” Bree snorted. Her mother would have laughed at that. No one could mistake Bree Lancaster for a lady, and she had a whole family who reminded her of that on a regular basis. Real ladies didn’t have tattoos—albeit nicer ones than the kid in front of her—and they didn’t ever dye their hair for any reason but to mask the telling strands of gray, not even on Halloween, and they certainly didn’t paint their fingernails black. As far as she was concerned, being a lady was highly overrated, and Bree was perfectly happy in failing to meet her family’s expectations in that regard. And she would have been even happier to make it home in one piece after spending the last ten hours on the flight from hell, without being threatened with a knife. A rusty one by the look of it. The kid was definitely not a professional. His eyes narrowed. “I want your wallet.” A brittle layer of agitation clung to his voice. She cocked her head and sighed. She really didn’t need this. The kid clearly wasn’t familiar with the actual scary types that eked out a living ripping people off in Europe. Bree shook her head. “I’m not giving you my wallet. Drop the knife, turn around and go home.” The kid hesitated, looking uncertain, but didn’t retreat. So the guy had some willpower in him after all. Not a lot of junkies did. Bree tried again, really pushing to implant the suggestion in his subconscious. “Occumbo is quod vado.” The knife clattered on the sidewalk, his eyes widening as though he couldn’t believe he’d dropped it. “Go home,” she encouraged again. “Don’t bother anyone else tonight.” With an incredulous nod, and probably assuming he was somehow trippin’, he turned and shuffled away as though he had only stopped to ask her for a light. Bree let out the pent-up breath locked in her chest and picked up the knife. She wasn’t one for close calls and could have done without the burst of adrenaline pounding thick and fast through her system. She wanted to feel bad for the kid, but being as bone tired as she was, she couldn’t summon much sympathy for anyone when all she could think about was crawling between the sheets of her very own bed. A first in the last year and a half. Bree carried the knife to the edge of an alley and set it down. With her back to the street, she concentrated her thoughts and felt the small amulet strapped to her ankle warm her skin. “Exuro.” The knife melted into a silver and black pool of steaming liquid. No one else would find themselves at the wrong end of that particular weapon again. Damn junkies. Given her baby brother’s brush with the addictive lifestyle not so long ago, she had more tolerance than most for what they went through. But when it came to threatening and hurting others to satisfy the cravings, her compassion took a hard dive out the window. She probably should have given the teen a good scare. A little glimpse at what he’d look like if he kept heading down that road. Then again, she wasn’t in the mood to have a run-in with the Tribunal. She’d behaved herself while she was in Europe—most of the time—and wasn’t all that eager for a chat with the powers that be. Ignoring her tired muscles, Bree continued on towards her boutique. Her small house lay in the opposite direction, but she knew she had to see the shop before she turned in for the night. She wanted to walk through the doors, smell the familiar scents, breathe them in and just…be home. She passed few people on the dark June night. It was late, and being a weeknight, few tourists were out and about. The lights inside the boutique were still on, surprising her. She’d expected Marion would have already gone home for the night. A smile tugged at her lips as she quickened her steps. The bell over the door tinkled, announcing her presence. Bree dropped her bag at the door, grinning wider as Marion came out of the back room, her glasses low on her nose as she read from a tattered hardcover. Everything from Marion’s flyaway gray curls and half smile on her lips as she read something amusing, to the familiar pink blouse and faded jeans made Bree’s heart ache. A lump wedged in the back of her throat. Mark had always looked so much like his mom. Bree didn’t move for a long moment, just watched Marion. It wasn’t until right this moment she realized how much she’d missed her. The only woman to ever look at her and accept her for everything she was, unladylike faults and all. On the heels of that thought, Bree found her voice, swallowing past the well of emotion that caught her by surprise. “Miss me?” Marion’s head snapped up. Smiling like she hadn’t in months, Bree rushed forward and threw her arms around the older woman’s neck. “I didn’t think you were coming home until next week.” Marion stepped back but kept a fierce grip on her hands. Her gaze was far too probing as she studied Bree. Bree shifted in place, knowing what Marion dug for, and hoping the other woman wouldn’t go there just yet. Appearing satisfied for the moment, Marion nodded. “You look good.” A light sheen of tears filled her eyes before she hugged Bree again. Breathing would have been difficult if she weren’t clinging just as tight to Marion. “I’m glad you’re home.” “Me, too.” Bree drew back and surveyed the small changes Marion had made to the shop in her absence. More plants, a few new displays highlighting new merchandise. A section of books by erotic authors looked to be new. Something she’d have to take a closer look at, along with much of the boutique, when she wasn’t too tired to process it all. “I figured if you didn’t like the new wall color then you’d be able to change it back pretty quick.” “I like it.” The pretty shades of burgundy and caramel made the store feel inviting but intimately feminine, perfect for their primarily female customers. “Let me finish closing up, and then we can catch up.” Marion gave Bree another critical once-over. “You look happier than you did in Paris.” “That was six months ago.” She nodded. “I know.” Her attention slid to the left and Bree followed it to a framed picture of Mark that sat on the counter near the cash register. A steel weight pressed in on her chest, but the pain of the memories his picture dragged to the surface was fleeting. Now she could at least look at it without her grief hurting so badly. Even six months ago that wouldn’t have happened. She heard Marion tidying up behind her and absently played with the wedding ring she still wore as she stared out into the dark night. For the first time on the flight home she’d thought about tucking it away when she got settled back in her place. Seeing both Mark’s picture and Marion, she wasn’t sure she could now. Before thoughts and regrets that still made her ache for her best friend could sink in, she focused on the here and now. On how nice it was to be home. A year and a half was a long time to be away from everything she knew, but backpacking through Europe had been the change she needed, a way to cope. Bree frowned, taking a step closer to the window and studying the street out front. “Marion, where’s your car?” When the other woman didn’t answer, Bree turned around. Marion tucked a few slips of paper into the drawer behind the counter. She slung her purse over her shoulder. “Ready to go?” She waited as Marion shut off the lights and followed her outside. “What happened to your car?” Bree asked again wondering if it was getting repaired. She smiled thinking of how Marion’s face had lit up when Mark had driven it into the driveway. “I don’t have one at the moment.” “Since when?” Marion adored her sleek black Mercedes. It had been the last thing Mark had bought her before he died. Bree remembered how Marion hassled him about buying his mother such an extravagant gift. A dying man’s prerogative, Mark had said. Bree couldn’t imagine Marion willfully parting with it for any reason. Marion started walking. Bree caught up to her and planted herself in front of the other woman. “Whoa.” Marion avoided her gaze. For a moment, all her teen years caught up to them and the shoe was on the other foot, with it being Marion’s turn to play the uncomfortable guilty party. Bree crossed her arms. “Is there something I should know?” “Everything is fine, Sabrina.” She cringed. “No need to go all momlike on me. I just know how much you loved that car.” Marion lifted her face, but made no attempt to explain anything. Taking Marion’s hand in hers, Bree noticed the recent worry lines edging the mossy green eyes. Eyes that seemed to have aged far too much in such a short time. Why hadn’t she noticed that when they last saw each other? “Tell me.” “I was going to tell you. I just… You just got home. You don’t need to be worrying about anything but getting settled and—” “I’m as settled as I’ll ever be. Now tell me.” A chastising look scrunched Marion’s brows together. “I will. No need to be thinking about using your gift to help me along.” Bree shook her head. “I wouldn’t.” Though sometimes it just came second nature, as it did to all members of her family. Not that it would have gotten her anywhere with Marion. The woman had far too much strength to be lulled into saying or believing any more than what she wanted to. An apologetic smile caught the corner of Marion’s mouth. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just tired, and with everything else lately, I’m not feeling like myself.” She took another breath. “It’s gone. My money, my nest egg, it’s all gone.” “What?” Bree shook her head. “How?” To some people fifty thousand dollars wasn’t a lot, but to Marion who had struggled to support her only child by working two, sometimes three jobs, for most of Mark’s life, it was a small fortune. “I don’t know. I mean, I used the same investor very good friends recommended. I had no idea he wasn’t doing exactly what he said he was with my money.” Anger burned through Bree’s veins. “An investor took your money?” Marion nodded sadly. “I feel so stupid. I just thought it would be smart to do something with the money Mark left me. I never would have realized…” “Why didn’t you tell me? When did this all happen? You know I would have come home.” “Which is exactly why I didn’t say anything. You needed to be over there until you were ready to come back on your own. I wasn’t about to rush you.” “How long ago?” Bree pressed. Marion sighed. “A few weeks ago. I didn’t know what he was doing for a long while. I should have known when he didn’t return my calls right away that something was up. And his secretary keeps saying he’s away on business…” “Who is this guy?” “He works at a firm downtown. His name is Mason Dade.” “Well, he picked the wrong woman to rip off.” Marion needed that money as a little extra cushion to offset her meager pension when she retired. “Bree, there’s nothing you can do.” She snorted. “I know that look.” Marion pointed a finger at her. “What look?” She shouldn’t have bothered to say that much. She didn’t even come close to sounding remotely innocent. “The look that says you’re about to jump in headfirst without looking.” With a roll of her eyes, Bree threw an arm around Marion’s waist. “Let’s forget about it for tonight.” But Bree wouldn’t. She didn’t care what she had to do to find the guy who screwed with Mark’s mom. Her gut churned with a gnawing guilt that left her sick to her stomach. She and Mark had been best friends since the third grade, and their relationship had taken a far more personal turn right before he’d been diagnosed with cancer. For years she’d spent almost as much time at Mark’s as she had at home with her own parents, sometimes more. Even before Mark knew he was terminal, he made Bree promise to look after Marion, reminding her of it again hours before he died. And what had she done less than a month after he died? Took off for Europe because she didn’t know how to handle losing her best friend and husband. Instead of being there for Marion like she’d promised, she’d buried her head in the sand, completely ignorant—selfishly so—to what was happening to the people she loved. She’d been back in the country little more than a couple hours only to find out just how much she’d let the both of them down. Bree forced a smile as Marion tried to steer the conversation in a more light-hearted direction. Like getting Bree’s house decorated. She tried to keep up with Marion’s suggestions but couldn’t keep her thoughts on anything but making up for not being there for Marion. And it started with Mason Dade. # “Did hell freeze over?” Finn Calder didn’t glance away from the window and the fading sunlight falling over the city. “I didn’t get the memo if it did.” Violet sighed and came to stand beside him. Tonight his younger sister was dressed in a stunning red cocktail dress. She and Reece obviously had plans. The detective she seemed intent on keeping still annoyed him, but Finn was certainly having a whole lot more fun pushing his buttons since Reece hooked up with his baby sister. “I’m talking about the fact that it’s Saturday night and you’re working. I find it hard to believe you don’t have a date lined up.” “I cancelled.” Violet snorted. She turned and perched on the edge of his desk, arms crossed. The look on her face reminded Finn of his mother and the time she didn’t believe him when he swore it was his older brother Dante who got red paint all over the clean sheets she’d hung outside to dry. It certainly hadn’t helped his case that he hadn’t thought to use his magic to erase the evidence staining his own palms before she tracked him down in the lopsided tree house he and Dante had built. But this time he wasn’t lying. Violet cocked her head. “You’re telling me you cancelled a date on a Saturday night with what’s her name?” “Michelle,” he provided. “MacKenzie,” Violet corrected with a grin. He narrowed his eyes. She had set him up on that one. “Right.” He dropped back in the black leather chair behind his desk and swiveled it around in a circle. “You’re telling me the truth.” Disbelief poured off her tongue. “Why would I lie?” Violet’s mouth fell open. “I never thought I’d see the day my brother, the player, cancelled a date.” “It wasn’t going anywhere.” “Your relationships never go anywhere. Wait, does dating for a week or two even constitute as a relationship?” With a shrug, he grabbed a pencil and bounced the end off the edge of his day planner. He was bored and restless and should have jumped at the chance to get away from the same four walls he spent far too much time in. Instead he called his date at the last minute, and for what? To sit here and feel envious of what Violet and Reece had? Damn, there really was something wrong with him. “Working a case?” Doubt still flickered in her eyes, as though she figured there had to be another excuse for his being here tonight. “I might be,” he said, relieved to find something to think about other than why he chose to be alone on a perfectly good date night. “I have a meeting shortly, but that’s not why I cancelled.” He still didn’t know why he cancelled. There wasn’t anything wrong with Michelle—MacKenzie. She was nice to talk to, easy on the eyes, wasn’t clingy. So what was his problem? And why was he so fixated on examining this? Lots of guys just hung out and did guy things on the weekend. Drank beer. Watched sports. Maybe that was all he needed. Some guy time. Finn reclined in the chair, feeling better. “You know what Aunt Gertie would say about this, don’t you?” Aunt Gertie had something to say about everything. “I’d rather not know.” “She’d say it’s because you’re finally ready to find your soul mate.” Finn felt his feet leave the floor, the reclined position of the chair carrying him backwards. “Aequus.” At the last second the chair leveled out on Violet’s command. Her lips twitched. “I should have let you fall.” Finn righted himself and the chair and stabbed his pencil at the door she’d left open when she walked in without knocking. “Go bug your boyfriend.” Violet laughed and pushed off from his desk. “You know he’s still sore at you for your last stunt.” Grinning, Finn recalled the minor change in hair color Reece woke up with last week. He thought the pepto-pink rather suited the pain-in-the-ass detective, a well-suited nickname he’d used fondly until Violet came into the picture. Now she expected him to actually be nice to the cop. Perish the thought. Luckily, he’d only received one e-mail from the Tribunal for that little prank. The three member council had, however, warned him a personal visit would be forthcoming the next time he used his magic against another without provocation. A change of hair color hardly constituted as an act of malice from where Finn stood, but there was no such thing as a gray area as far as the Tribunal was concerned. Everything was black or white. And if it wasn’t “white” you could be in serious trouble. Finn wasn’t interested in risking his magic being bound. The only thing more annoying than having to deal with Reece at all would be facing him daily and not being able to at least threaten to do worse than pink hair. He shuddered at the possibility of it ever coming to that. Finn tried not to dwell on exactly how much the Tribunal knew about him at any given time. Not one to be creeped out by much, the thought of any one of the council members poking around inside his mind during the more intimate moments in his life left him unsettled. Violet had had her own brush with the Tribunal after a drug dealer and an old woman forced her to use her magic in self-defense. Not to mention they hadn’t been thrilled to find out a detective knew about the Calder family. In the face of the unexpected circumstances surrounding Violet and Reece getting together, his sister was forgiven for not first seeking the Tribunal’s permission to tell Reece everything. Violet paused in the doorway. “Don’t work too hard.” “You know that’s never been a problem for me.” He winked at Violet. If Reece broke her heart, there would be pieces of him all over the damn city by the time Finn got through with him. Then he’d really have the Tribunal all over his ass. “Call me tomorrow.” Violet disappeared down the hall. Ready to find his soul mate. Finn snorted. He believed in them as much as he still believed in Santa Claus. “Knock, knock.” Finn looked up to see two familiar faces hovering in the doorway. “Come on in.” Erica Dade sailed into his office looking every bit the sleek and sophisticated woman he remembered. She smoothed back the strands of dark hair that were never out of place with a practiced fluidity as she took a seat opposite him. With a predictable cock of her head, she sent him a grateful smile. One he knew from experience didn’t come from any true sincerity, but a driven self-preservation. What had ever possessed him to date the self-absorbed woman in college? He couldn’t recall them having much in common but Carey. Carey Dade-Houston took her time approaching his desk, the polar opposite of her older sister. Where Erica was forward and an attention seeker, Carey was more withdrawn. And the differences didn’t end there. Carey was blonde and petite and her smiles were usually genuine. From the few times they’d crossed paths since her husband’s murder a couple years ago, he didn’t see her smile nearly enough. Erica straightened. “I’m glad Carey convinced you to see me.” “Anything for Carey.” They’d been too good of friends in high school to pass up her plea to see her sister on such short notice. “Nice to see you again, Finn,” Carey said, not venturing any farther than halfway into the room. “How have you been?” “Busy. Garrett Jr. keeps me running.” Erica’s polite smile tightened. “I’m not sure exactly how much Carey told you on the phone.” Carey took that as her cue and started retreating towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be down in the car when you’re ready to go, Erica.” Erica nodded, and when Finn waved to Carey, the brunette made a clearing sound in the back of her throat to regain his attention. “I know that you plan on divorcing your husband and have reason to believe he’s seeing someone else on the side,” Finn finally said. “I know he is. In fact, it’s a stripper who works down at Take It Off. And I want to hire you to find the proof.” Finn cringed inwardly. He hated working cheating-spouse cases. If not for Carey he’d pawn this one off on his cousin Tate. With her ability to transport herself from place to place with a thought, she was fantastic for those click-and-run moments where one good photo often made a case. Erica shifted in the chair and sniffed. Carey had told him how upset Erica was about her husband’s transgressions. Which was why Carey recommended Erica come see him to begin with. Although Erica’s need for his professional help wasn’t nearly as bad as Carey’s situation had been when the trail on her husband’s murder went cold. Distraught, she’d come to him hoping he could help. He’d been about ready to give up too when he’d stumbled upon a police informant with a beef against Garrett Houston and had killed the cop before eventually killing himself. Watching Erica dab discreetly at the corner of her eye, Finn couldn’t decide if she was truly upset or looking for sympathy. She hadn’t been above such tactics when they were younger. “And where is your husband now?” “Away on a business trip.” Erica snorted. “He returns Monday and has a long-standing date for a lap dance at Take It Off every week.” Disgust filled her voice. “Have you spoken with him recently?” “Two days ago. He knows I suspect he’s been unfaithful and denies it. How stupid do I look?” Ignoring the rhetorical question, Finn grabbed a pen to jot a few things down. “I’ll take the case. Let me get some more information. What is your husband’s full name?” “Mason Geoffrey Dade.” # “A bit overdressed for a strip club, aren’t you?” Finn tensed, but didn’t lift his head from the file where he scribbled a note for Violet. Maybe if he ignored Reece he’d go away. He glanced at his watch. Damn. Already running late. Reece leaned against the vacant reception desk. Calder Private Investigation’s temp had already gone home for the night. The front doors were locked, the lights dimmed. Why Violet figured Reece needed his own key was beyond him. He personally wouldn’t give the cop the key to anything more than a broom closet, but it wasn’t his call. Unfortunately. Setting aside the folder, Finn crossed his arms. Reece grinned at him. The detective had gotten far cockier with him and Dante since he hooked up with Vi. The hair color incident last week should have reminded him that he hadn’t earned any place in this family yet. At least not as far as Finn was concerned. Though it did take some of the fun out of annoying Reece now that he knew the things he once believed strange coincidences were actually magic. “Any reason you’ve got a shit-eating grin plastered on your face?” Finn slid his gaze to Reece’s pockets, wondering which one held the key. Maybe Reece wouldn’t notice a little snatch and grab à la Calder style. “Heard your date cancelled on you the other night.” “Somehow I doubt you stopped by to ask about my love life.” “So what happened? She find a guy who could actually remember her name?” Finn took a step towards him, but Reece didn’t look the least bit fazed. Instead, the detective nodded knowingly to the front of Finn’s shirt that hid the navy amulet he wore, an amulet given to him at birth. All members of his family wore them, the old magic running through their blood strengthened by the amulets passed down through each generation. Reece’s acknowledgment of the amulet Finn wore was nothing more than a reminder the detective knew far more about the Calders than the average cop. “I’d point out that I cancelled the date, but that would mean making conversation, and tonight I’m just not in the mood, honey.” Reece laughed. Did nothing bring the old scowl to Reece’s face? Once upon a time all Finn or Dante had to do was cross paths with Reece and the man would be ready to do battle. Now all he did was grin like he knew something Finn didn’t. A tingle skated across the back of his neck and Finn looked to his right just as Tate appeared beside them. Reece scrambled back a step, bumped an elbow against the stack of files on the edge of the desk. “Jesus. Can’t you people give a heads-up when you’re gonna pop in like that?” Tate and Finn exchanged smiles. She slung an arm over Reece’s shoulder. “Now where would the fun in that be?” Finn was used to Tate dropping in like this. Plus he, like most of his family, had developed a sixth sense for knowing when she was about to put in an appearance. She handed Finn an envelope. “Here you go. Pictures for the Coleman case.” “Don’t you ever worry you’re going to pop in when there’s someone who shouldn’t see you?” Reece asked, looking mildly less freaked out now. Tate winked. “Danger is my middle name.” She smiled, then with a “Night boys,” she vanished again. Reece shook his head. “That is just weird.” “Only for you mere mortals.” Finn tucked the envelope into a folder in the stack for Violet. “Every time I think I get used to you guys, I’m thrown for another loop.” “You’re just still freaked out that Tate dropped in to visit Violet and saw you naked.” The detective crossed his arms. “I’d just stepped out of a very cold shower,” Reece reminded him for the hundredth time. Finn grinned. Sometimes it was just too easy. Again he felt the air sway and Tate reappeared. “Hey, I forgot to ask. Sawyer told me you cancelled a date. I bet him fifty bucks that he had his information wrong. And he does, right?” “Why is everyone so preoccupied with how I spend my Saturday nights?” Why couldn’t he have a family who were absorbed with their own lives instead of his? Tate frowned. “I’m out fifty bucks, aren’t I? Shit. I don’t think you’ve cancelled on a girl since your first and only blind date had nearly been with one of the Lancasters.” “Lancasters? As in rival witch family?” Reece shook his head. “It’s odd enough knowing you guys can do what you do. But knowing there’s another family out there with magic in the blood…” “Two others actually. But the Hastings are even worse.” Tate leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Finn’s cheek. “Whoever the woman from the cancelled date was, she obviously wasn’t good enough for my cousin.” “Michelle was fine,” Finn began. “Mackenzie,” Reece corrected. Finn scowled. The cop was seriously asking to wake up with something a whole lot worse than fuchsia-colored hair. “Later.” Tate vanished again. Finn didn’t wait for Reece to jump to another subject that would press him to ignore both his better judgment and the Tribunal’s last warning. “Have a good night,” Reece called out when Finn headed for the front door. “Hey. Wait a second.” Silencing the voice that told him to keep going, Finn paused. Reece jogged across the lobby and handed him a twenty dollar bill. “Here, have a lap dance on me.” “You want me to hurt you. You must.” Laughing, Reece strolled away as though he’d just made the dig of a lifetime. “Watch your back, Prescott.” “Say hi to the Tribunal for me next time, would you?” That was it. “I’m keeping the twenty.” “It was worth every cent.” With a curse, Finn shoved the money in his pocket, barely squelching the urge not to make everyone’s favorite nightmare of walking into a crowded room naked come true for Reece. Pick up Don't Let Go in eBook or Print! |