Enchantment (8 page)

“I make us tea,” the old woman announced,
startling Gray.

“I’m not thirsty, thank you.”

“I make us tea,” the old woman repeated and
made her way to a small kitchen.

The woman could make whatever she wanted,
Gray wasn’t taking a sip. Rule number one: never eat or drink
anything offered to you by a witch. Not only was the old woman a
witch, she was related to Adrian. Gray probably shouldn’t even be
breathing the air in the apartment.

“Have seat,” the woman said as she passed a
small table.

Gray slid into a chair and set her purse on
the floor beside her. The woman moved around the kitchen slowly.
She filled a kettle with water and muttered in a language Gray
couldn’t decipher. Steam rose from the kettle instantly. The old
woman returned with two teacups set on saucers and set one in front
of Gray.

Gray flipped open a spiral notebook and
clicked her pen. “So, Mrs. Montez, how long has your grandson been
performing?”

When there was no answer, Gray looked up. The
old woman was staring at her.

Gray cleared her throat. “Mr. Montez calls
himself a world-famous magician. How many countries has he
performed in?” Gray clicked her pen open and closed.

Gray hadn’t touched her tea, neither had the
old woman. Finally she spoke. “I show you his tricks from when
boy.”

Gray’s jaw dropped. It was more than she
could have hoped for. “I would love to see Mr. Montez’s childhood
props. Does he travel with these all the time?”

The old woman just smiled and got out of her
chair. Gray followed her down a hall to a bedroom: Adrian’s. Ugh.
Suck it up, Gray.

But in the end, it was worth the displeasure,
for beside a neatly made bed she noticed the pot of gold or, in
this case, an old beat-up trunk with two metal clasps.

“May I take a quick peek inside?”

The old woman nodded. “I go drink tea.”

Gray tried not to gape. Seriously? That
easy?

Before the woman left, she paused in the
doorframe to wag a finger at Gray. “Don’t take anything.”

“Of course not!” Gray said indignantly,
forgetting momentarily that that’s exactly what she intended to
do.

She waited till the woman left before getting
on her knees. The chest was a child’s trunk, faded navy and scuffed
on all sides. Gray clicked the metal latches open. A musty old
smell hit her nostrils. Gray reached inside and pulled out a plush
rabbit by the ears. Gray shook her head then set it aside. She saw
a set of juggling balls, deck of cards, and multi-colored
handkerchiefs. Everything she touched had history—long past ten
years. She should grab something and go, but her hand kept
exploring until it closed around something long and thin at the
bottom of the trunk.

Gray pulled it out and held it in front of
her face. A magic wand? A smile tugged on her lips. She probably
would have liked Adrian the boy a lot better than Adrian the man.
Pity he had grown up to be such a brute.

Gray stuffed the things she’d taken out of
the trunk back inside and snapped it shut before standing, wand in
hand. As soon as she lifted off the ground, she rocked unsteadily.
A feeling of dizziness flickered through her and a scream rose up
her throat, but she held it in. The wand slipped from her fingers
right before Gray fainted.

The smell of rotten cheese brought Gray back.
Her lips curled, and she sat up quickly. At first she had no idea
where she was. In that instant she wouldn’t have been able to name
what country she was in, let alone whose room she’d passed out
in.

“You faint.”

Gray looked up, blinking at the old woman.
Adrian’s grandmother held a small brown bottle between her fingers.
Gray looked around frantically. It hit her. She had collapsed on
the floor of Adrian’s bedroom. Thankfully there was no sign of
him.

“What time is it?” she said, jumping up. “I
have to go!”

“My grandson no return yet.”

Thank God!

Gray hurried out of the room, retracing her
steps to the kitchen. She snatched her purse off the floor and
headed for the door, calling out “good-bye” without looking
back.

* * *

“You’re in a foul mood,” Hannah grumbled when they
all went out for tapas that evening.

Gray tore at her paper cocktail napkin and
scowled at Hannah for pointing out the obvious. So she’d been a bit
snappy, small wonder considering she’d fainted in Adrian’s bedroom.
She didn’t want to even think about what would have happened had
his grandmother not revived her. Gray should have known she
couldn’t waltz in, grab something of Adrian’s, and go. His
belongings were as cursed as the man.

The moment her fingers wrapped around the toy
wand, Gray had been overcome with pain and grief. She’d felt life
slip away.

She didn’t want to know what had happened to
Adrian, she told herself for the zillionth time. She never wanted
to see the man again. But even that she’d botched up. Gray had
walked away from the apartment dazed and empty-handed.

The noise in the tapas bar brought her back
to the present. Like true Spaniards, they’d come out at the late
hour, and the restaurant was a flurry of activity.

“Sorry,” Gray said to Hannah, “you know how I
get when I’m hungry.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “We better order
then.”

“Where to tonight?” Marco asked.

“What about the Moog?” Will asked.

“The techno club?” Hannah asked in
disgust.

Will shrugged. “One of the Dutch retreaters
suggested it.”

“What do you think, Gray?” Marco asked.

Gray tore another piece off her napkin. She
felt like staying in tonight, but better to hold her tongue till
later and spare herself Hannah’s protests through dinner. The food
worked its charm and pacified Gray somewhat. She even partook in
drinking a sangria with her friends. A nice bedtime drink, she told
herself. That’s where Gray was going after dinner—back to Benita’s
and to bed early. She’d decided the hour was too late for worrying
about Adrian. Maybe
Señor
Ortega could
offer a service that didn’t involve personal objects, or maybe for
the right price the warlock could procure what he needed,
himself.

Gray drank the last of her sangria and set
the glass on the table. “And now, if you’ll excuse me,” she
announced. “I’m going . . .” Gray blinked. “I’m going to . . .” She
gripped the edges of the table suddenly and felt herself teetering
for the second time that day. The empty plates and cups spun in
circles across her vision.

“Gray?” Will said.

Even Hannah looked alarmed. “Gray!”

Not again, no fainting. Why was this
happening? She’d only had one glass of sangria. Gray’s hands
tightened around the table and her lids fluttered closed. Her heart
began a rapid beat until it all but thundered inside her chest.
Then her eyes flew open. Wide. Gray released the sides of the
table.

“I’m sorry, what was I saying?”

Hannah squished up her nose. “That you were
going to do something or go somewhere?” She looked at Will and
Marco.

Gray smiled suddenly, remembering. “Oh yes,
I’m going to the Rex Room. Are you coming with?”

Hannah looked at the guys then shrugged. “Why
not?”

Gray glanced over her friend’s shoulder.
Where was their waiter? It was time they got out of there. If she
were lucky, Adrian would return to the Rex Room tonight. She could
only hope he was a creature of habit.

They had unfinished business, and Gray
intended to see it through.

A pleasant smell greeted Adrian the moment he walked
inside the apartment. Nan had made his favorite: piroshkis. It was
a welcome sight after two performances in one day.

As they sat down to eat, Nan watched Adrian
with the hint of a smile on her lips. Finally, Adrian stopped
chewing. “What is it?”

“I no say anything.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “What mischief have
you gotten into now?”

“Me no get into mischief,” Nan said. But then
she smiled.

“What did you do?” Adrian studied her face.
“Nan?”

Suddenly she was no longer smiling, but
scowling. “I pack, Adrian. This place not for me.”

Adrian set his piroshki on his plate. “What
do you mean you packed? I only have a week left to perform then we
can go back to Paris.”

“You stay. Me go.”

Adrian tilted his head as though that would
help him to understand.

“Me go tonight.”

Adrian frowned. “We came together, we’ll
leave together. Is Barcelona really that bad?”

Nan looked at him sadly. “No, Barcelona not
bad. You no worry, Adrian. You stay and I see you soon. Okay?”

What did she expect him to say? Adrian pushed
his plate away. “Leave if you want.” He looked at his nan, but she
made no reply. Adrian stared sullenly at his plate. “How are you
getting to Paris?”

“Plane.”

Adrian nodded. He studied the table rather
than look at her. She hadn’t even waited to discuss this with him
or allowed him to make arrangements. “Very well,” Adrian said,
still unable to meet his nan’s eye. “I’ll see you to the
airport.”

“Taxi come,” Nan said. “Now.”

Adrian looked up. “Now?”

As if on cue, a horn bleated from below. He
could hardly believe it. His nan had never taken off on him like
this before. Not that he needed her with him wherever he went;
quite the opposite. It was Adrian’s responsibility to look out for
the old woman. He was all she had.

But she stood up now and snapped her fingers.
Her suitcase appeared at her side.

“Allow me,” Adrian said solemnly. It was the
least he could do.

He carried the bag down three flights of
stairs and set it inside the trunk of the cab himself. “See that my
grandmother gets to the airport safely,” he told the cabby,
stuffing a wad of euros in his hands.

Then he turned to his grandmother and clasped
her hands in his own. “Safe travels, Nan. I will see you soon.”

“No hurry,” she said, and left him with a
smile on her lips.

Without his nan, the apartment was a tomb
without sound or air. Adrian walked past his half-eaten piroshki
and retrieved a packet of powder from his coat pocket. Then he
poured himself a glass of wine, dumped the entire contents of the
packet inside, and gulped it down.

* * *

The late-night revelers blurred before his eyes when
Adrian staggered into the Rex Room. The DJ they called The Magician
moved with the music. The big, bearded man jiggled in tune to the
beat. Adrian laughed then went to the bar and ordered a straight
shot of vodka.

“Oh wow,” a girl squealed at his right.
“You’re that magician guy, aren’t you?”

Adrian looked over. A woman with
bleached-blonde hair stood with two equally slender brunettes. They
were dressed in miniskirts and halter tops that clung to their
bodies like latex gloves.

Adrian grinned instantly. “Are you
American?”

“Yes,” the blonde said. “I’m Cami.”

“Did you see my show, Cami?”

“Earlier today. You were amazing, wasn’t he,
girls?”

“Better than any magician I’ve ever seen,”
one of the brunettes said.

The women blurred before his vision, but
still Adrian ordered a round of shots. The potion had gone to his
head before he left the apartment. He wasn’t all there, but that
was fine with him. Even warlocks needed a night off.

“Do you want to dance with us?” Cami
asked.

He looked over the three girls. Even through
his blurred vision, he could see they were attractive. It probably
wouldn’t take much effort to get one or all three back to the
apartment. That would teach Nan to abandon him.

Adrian gave a wicked grin, stood majestically
from his bar stool, and held out an arm for each of the brunettes.
Cami smiled with straight white teeth and led their group into the
throng. The space inside the club was tight, and the girls molded
themselves against Adrian at once.

He was drowning in halter tops, high heels,
and skin—soft, feminine skin. Three beauties shimmied, shaking all
up and down his body. Nothing mattered at the moment. And then he
saw those eyes—like a beacon through the fog.

Graylee Perez.

And she looked pissed. She always looked
pissed when she looked at him.

She stood with her back to the wall, her
friends moving toward the bar. Adrian thought to wink at her before
she took off after her group, but Gray held her ground and did not
take her eyes off him for a second.

The moment Cami turned her back to Adrian and
thrust her ass against him, Gray charged into the crowd. Adrian’s
grin widened.

Gray stormed up to the cluster he’d melted
into and snapped her fingers three times. The women around him
cried out when their clothing turned to men’s trousers and
T-shirts.

Laughter erupted a few feet away when three
young men ended up in halter tops and miniskirts. The women
scattered like fireworks exploding right before they faded into the
night sky.

Gray stormed up to him. Adrian was too far
gone to care. He chuckled as though amused by her show. He may have
even clapped. “I’m surprised you didn’t put them in
straitjackets.”

Gray seemed to relax a fraction. She smiled
slightly. “Yeah, well, I only have a fifty-foot radius to go on so
. . .” She shrugged.

“I’m surprised you didn’t put me in one,”
Adrian said. He winked at her and flashed her a smile that would
surely get him slapped. He’d welcome it. Not like he’d feel it
anyway. He was flying high on club potion.

Gray stepped so close he could smell her
shampoo—guava or coconut, something tropical. “I bet you’d like
that,” Gray said into his ear. “Being all tied up and at my mercy.”
She walked her fingers up his arm to his shoulder and tugged gently
on his earlobe. She pulled her fingers back and whispered so close
to his eardrum, he could feel her lips on him. “Or would you like
it better if I were tied up?”