Authors: Nikki Jefford
Adrian moved the box back in place and
unlatched the lid. Gray rose and stepped out slowly. She looked
down, half expecting to see bloodstains on her sundress, but
nothing indicated that her body had been ripped apart moments
earlier.
Gray swayed when she stepped from the stool
to the stage. Adrian steadied her. She felt too dazed to push him
away.
“Good as new,” he announced.
Applause thundered through the auditorium.
Gray could feel Adrian’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at
him. She made her way slowly toward the stairs.
“Let’s have another round of applause for our
brave volunteer,” Adrian called out.
All eyes turned to Gray as the audience
clapped.
Her finger twitched and this time it was with
an urge to give them all the finger.
Adrian tapped his finger against the tabletop while
chewing his food, staring beyond his nan’s shoulder at nothing in
particular. He’d chosen this café for its proximity to their
apartment. It had become increasingly more difficult for the old
woman to get around. At least Adrian convinced her to come out at
all.
“This food no good.” Nan glared down at the
plate of paella the waiter had set before her.
They were seated at an antique marble table
attached to legs made of curly cast-iron supports. It was only
noon, which made Adrian and his nan the first lunch customers of
the day. The Spaniards wouldn’t be out for their midday meal till
closer to two.
Adrian was already three bites into his dish.
“There’s nothing wrong with the food, Nan.”
“Food better in Paris.”
“Spanish food is fine. You just miss the
pastries.”
“What wrong with pastries?”
Adrian grinned. “Come on, you have to admit
it’s good to get out of the apartment.”
Nan scowled in answer.
His nan had barely stepped foot outside since
arriving in Barcelona two weeks prior.
“Why we come to Spain?”
“I told you, Nan, I had an opportunity to
perform.”
“Perform!” Nan spat on the ground then tossed
up her arms. “You perform plenty in Paris. I know why we come to
Spain. The girl.”
Nan missed the look of warning on Adrian’s
face.
“You almost kill yourself for this girl and
still I no meet.”
“I did not almost kill myself for her. It
doesn’t matter, anyway. She hates me.” She probably hated him even
more after last night. It was of little consequence. Adrian had not
expected to see Graylee Perez again, at least not this soon. Her
mother had forbidden it. He smirked at the thought. No one
forbade
Adrian Montez anything.
Nan huffed. “Love. Hate. Doesn’t matter. You
powerful warlock. Make girl love you.”
Adrian wasn’t above manipulation or the use
of magic to get what he wanted, but in this instance the mere
thought of it made him physically recoil. “I am Adrian Hedrick
Montez. I will have a woman’s sincere love, or I won’t have it at
all.”
Nan huffed again.
Adrian smiled slowly. “Besides, I already
have the love of a good woman.”
Nan came the closest to a giggle as Adrian
had ever heard. Her lips puckered into a brief smile, and she
actually took a bite of her food. But as soon as she’d swallowed,
she leaned forward and asked, “When we return to Paris?”
It was like dealing with a four-year-old.
“I’m performing for two more weeks and then .
. .” And then what? There was no reason to stay in Barcelona. He
shouldn’t be there to begin with, but when Adrian had done a
locator spell and seen Gray in Europe, he couldn’t resist
contacting the Teatre Poliorama and scheduling a performance.
A troupe of performers who banged on pots was
supposed to be entertaining the crowds of Barcelona that month, but
they had received an offer they couldn’t refuse in Germany. Imagine
that.
Adrian had presented an immediate solution to
the theater’s dilemma.
In Paris he had his own flat overlooking the
Seine and a regular spot at the Magic Club. Leave it to Nan to
expect something was amiss when suddenly he cancelled a month of
shows to perform in Spain.
Adrian had hoped to get a glimpse of Gray on
the street. The last place he’d expected to see her was at his
show, and she had looked every bit as shocked as he. Then to have
her on stage, at his mercy—Adrian couldn’t resist a brief
hallucination spell. It was only fair after the confusion spell
she’d placed over him back home.
Home.
Adrian snorted. He wouldn’t be returning to
Washington any time soon.
Adrian studied his nan’s weathered face right
down to the deep frown lines that tugged on her lips. “Why don’t
you like Spain? You married a Spaniard.”
“I no marry a Spaniard! I marry an
American.”
Adrian thought that would be the end of it,
but then she said, “My Evardo give me two strong sons, and they
give me three powerful grandchildren. Now all but one taken.”
Whose fault was that? Adrian had stepped off
a building’s ledge and taken his entire family down in one
leap.
Lili’s voice echoed through Adrian’s head.
And now I present to you the world’s greatest magician:
Montez!
He blinked rapidly and set his fork down on
the cold marble. “You’re right, this food is no good.”
Why was it that Nan only smiled when Adrian
frowned, as though they were two interconnected weights? When one
was down, the other went up. It usually wasn’t a good thing when
Nan smiled. Nor was it good when she chanted in Latin.
When she finished speaking, their plates of
paella turned into platters filled with caprese salad, quiche
Lorraine, crêpes, baked brie, tapenade, and sliced baguette. Maybe
the waiters wouldn’t have noticed right away if it weren’t for the
puff of white smoke that exploded simultaneously from their
tabletop.
A pitcher of sangria shattered at their
waiter’s feet and a rover pf red rushed across the floor. He went
bug-eyed as he cried out, “
¿Qué
pasa?
”
Now Adrian remembered why he didn’t take his
nan out in public. He gave her a look, but it was nearly impossible
to reprimand the woman when she displayed her rare girlish smile.
Besides, at her age, it’s not like Nan was going to
change—something Adrian understood all too well.
He lifted a finger to lock the front door of
the café then twirled it around. The sign on the front window
flipped from
ABIERTO
to
CERRADO
.
Adrian had learned to bring a candle set
whenever he took Nan out: three red and three white—all the
necessary ingredients to perform a memory wipe. These were cut down
almost to the nub so they’d burn out quickly. Even so, there was
still plenty of time to spread a warm layer of brie over a slice of
French bread and top it with a slice of apple.
Nan dug into the quiche. She looked across
the table as she chewed, and this time they smiled in unison.
“S
eñorita
Perez,
Señor
Ortega will see you now.”
Finally.
Gray had been seated in the warlock’s waiting
room for nearly an hour. Who did he think he was? A doctor?
Ortega’s collection of sailing magazines had
certainly done nothing to help pass the time. Not that Gray would
have processed a word of any reading material on the planet at the
moment. She was still too furious. Whatever spell Adrian had placed
over her during his performance had made her feel like her body was
being ripped in half by the steel teeth of the saw blade. The pain
was like nothing she had ever known or cared to experience ever
again.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. He’d
humiliated her. Once she’d escaped the box of torture, it had been
all she could do to get down the stairs leading into the audience
without stumbling. It was a small miracle she hadn’t fainted.
After she collapsed into her seat, she’d been
forced to endure the remainder of Adrian’s show clutching her
stomach.
The moment the curtain fell, Hannah’s mouth
had flapped on and on about how brilliant the spectacle had been,
especially Gray’s part in the show. Marco had teased her for
screaming, and Will asked how the trick worked.
When the theater was well behind their backs,
Gray began to cry so suddenly she was more taken off guard than her
friends.
Hannah had draped a hand over her shoulder
and patted her gently. “No sense keeping it in. You’ll feel better
after a good cry.”
But Gray wasn’t crying over Carlo.
Gray had come to Spain to heal, and what had
she found in return? Heartache, betrayal, humiliation, and pain.
She was done with it!
Certain people needed purging from her life,
and Adrian Montez currently topped the list.
Standing, Gray followed the secretary to an
open door. The woman looked in, so Gray walked inside. The door
shut behind her.
A middle-aged man sat behind a desk framed by
a large window overlooking
Gaudí
’s great
Gothic curiosity, the Sagrada Familia.
“
Buenas tardes
,” Gray said.
Señor
Ortega stared
at her through frameless glasses. “Have a seat, Miss Perez.” He
spoke with barely an accent. “What brings you to my office?”
Gray had taken a seat on the cushioned chair
directly in front of Ortega. She sat on the edge. “
Tengo necesidad de un hechizo.
”
“What type of spell are you
needing?”
“I can speak Spanish,” Gray
said.
Ortega straightened. “I only speak to my
clients in their native tongue.” He leaned forward. “I leave no
room for error.”
Gray nodded. That was reassuring, she
supposed. “Very well,” she said. “There is a man, a warlock, whom I
wish never to see again.”
“Is this man an ex-lover?”
“No!” Gray’s lip curled back. Even the
thought of it was abhorrent. “He is an old foe from America.”
“What is this man’s name?”
“Adrian Hedrick Montez.”
Ortega’s face softened. “The magician? I have
heard of this man. My daughter has begged that we should go see
him.”
Gray’s frown deepened. Friggin’ great. Maybe
Marco could suggest another warlock to help her.
Gray shifted in her seat and was about to get
up when Ortega said, “I will need a personal object from this man.
It must be something that’s been in his possession at least three
years. It cannot be clothing, nor a book.”
“Done,” Gray said. Procuring an object of
Adrian’s would be a heck of a lot easier than trying to get his
blood.
Ortega studied Gray from under bushy brows.
“You wish never to see this warlock as long as you live?”
“Never,” Gray repeated.
“Better make it an object the man has
possessed for ten years.”
* * *
Gray was oblivious to her surroundings on the walk
back to
Señora
Contreras’ sanctuary. She
would have breezed right past Vinuesa in the foyer if the woman
hadn’t called out to her.
“
S
eñorita
Perez, un momento, por favor
.”
Gray balled her hands into fists then quickly
relaxed them afraid that Vinuesa would see it as a sign of guilt.
Gray pasted a smile over her face and walked up to Vinuesa’s desk.
“
Sí?”
Vinuesa looked pointedly at
Gray’s hands. Gray held her arms out.
Vinuesa pulled Gray’s
palms up to her face. For a moment, Gray feared the witch would
somehow know she had visited a warlock. After studying them for
longer than Gray was comfortable, Vinuesa dropped her hands.
“A gentleman called for you this
morning.”
Adrian.
Gray scowled. “Was he American?”
Vinuesa wrinkled her nose. “French.”
“I don’t know any Frenchman.”
Unless . . .
“Well, a Frenchman knows you,” Vinuesa
replied in Spanish.
“Did he leave a name and number?”
“Only a name. Charles.”
Gray sucked in a breath. That could only mean
one thing. Charlene had found a body. Not a dog after all, but
nearly as good.
Gray laughed. “Fabulous, I always wanted a
brother.
Gracias
, Vinuesa.”
How lovely of Adrian and Charlene to call on
her. If
Señor
Ortega could banish Adrian
from her life why not Charlene? Or Charles, it would seem. Gray
chuckled. She couldn’t help herself. Charlene the dude. She’d like
to know if Charley boy was going around in a skirt.
The Rex Room was packed tighter than a can of
sardines by the time Gray and her friends arrived. While the music
pounded, she tried to force the knots out of her stomach.
“Something to drink?” Marco yelled.
Gray shook her head. An overhead fog machine
poured white mist over the crowd. Gray felt lightheaded. She held
her breath as long as she could before filling her lungs with the
vaporized fluid. The fog reminded her of Adrian as he had first
appeared on stage at the Teatre Poliorama.
One last time
, she told herself.
I
only have to see him this one last time then never again
. Then
it would be one down, one left to go.
Señor Ortega had done better than a locator
spell; he’d looked into the future and had seen Adrian here, in the
Rex Room. Small wonder when Gray saw that the in-house DJ was a man
who went by the name of The Magician and dressed accordingly as he
spun his mixes from a platform against the far wall.
If the Spanish wizard was correct, Adrian
would make his entrance in one minute.