Hexed

“It’s a friend of ours. He’s been kidnapped. We need you to find him for us. We need you to bring him back.”

Something in the way she says “bring him back” raises that alarm from buzz to scream and makes the question that springs to my lips rhetorical. “Kidnapped? Shouldn’t you be going to the police?”

A brisk shake of her head sends the ponytail dancing. “No. The police can’t help.”

Why does that not surprise me? The three sitting in front of me are part of the supernatural force called the Watchers. They maintain order among the otherworldly members of the local population. They are powerful witches who have powerful friends. Much more powerful than the mortal police force. I ask the obvious. “Why are you coming to me? I am not a Watcher anymore. There must be many among you who could help.”

Another exchange of glances. More anxious frowns. I’m not aware that witches can communicate telepathically, but at this moment I wouldn’t have bet on it. Something passed between them.

“No one else can help,” Ariela says.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re the reason he’s been taken,” she replies. “And only you can get him back.”

“I’m the reason?”

A collective nod.

A spurt of anxiety quickens my blood. I take mental inventory. I know where David and Tracey are. I spoke to my parents early this morning. As dismal as it sounds, the only other friends I have are shapeshifters and they can take care of themselves. I can’t think of anyone else who is close enough to me to warrant kidnapping. Or a reason why anyone would be. I haven’t been vampire long enough for the miracle of compound interest to make me financially independent. I still have a day job.

Skepticism replaces concern.

“It’s someone I know?”

“We didn’t say that.”

I lean forward. I’m getting impatient. Again. “No more riddles. How can I be responsible for the kidnapping of someone I don’t know?”

“Because you committed a crime and you must answer for it.” Ariela holds up a hand, whether to stop me from interrupting or to stem the torrent of words that spill out of her mouth, I can’t tell. “You didn’t know you had committed a crime. We didn’t know, either. But we helped you and, in doing so, are being held responsible. Our friend—Susan’s brother—has been taken hostage. If you don’t agree to go back, he will be killed. A life for a life.”

Tears spill down Susan’s cheeks, tears she either doesn’t notice or is too preoccupied to wipe away.

I reach into a desk drawer for a tissue. I’ve done my share of killing—I can justify every life I’ve taken. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t committed any crime. I haven’t killed anyone who didn’t try to kill me first. I think—”

“It’s Belinda Burke’s life you have to atone for.” Ariela says it quietly.

Her words stay my hand and stir the hair at the back of my neck.

She leans toward me. “You killed her and you killed her in a sacred place. Now you have to go back.”

FOUR

ASTONISHMENT DOESN’T BEGIN TO DESCRIBE the reaction evoked in hearing Belinda Burke’s name in the same sentence as “life you have to atone for.” Belinda Burke was a powerful black-magic witch who almost caused the death of two close friends of mine and threatened to kill me and her own sister for helping rescue them. She was an evil bitch who among other things bled young female vampires to death to use their blood in an anti-aging cream. A cosmetic, for fuck’s sake.

“Atone for what?” I’m speaking through clenched teeth, fighting to keep my tone civil. “She was evil. You know that. You all know that. It’s why you helped me.”

Sadness pulls at the corners of Susan’s mouth. “We know,” she replies softly. “What we didn’t know was that Belinda Burke had gone to a place of sanctuary to recover from her wounds. She was under the protection of a powerful tribunal and we never should have allowed you to penetrate their defenses. We shouldn’t have been able to penetrate their defenses. It’s part of what’s made them so angry.”

“Them?” I repeat. “Who are you talking about?”

“The powers that rule the astral universe,” Min Liu replies. “Who or what they are is not entirely clear. They contacted each of us in a dream last night. The message was the same. They would hold Stephen until you appear for judgment. Sanctuary has been violated and that cannot go unpunished.”

“Unpunished?” The vampire stirs and bares her teeth. “They plan to punish me for killing a monster like Belinda Burke? If they offer sanctuary to creatures like that, they need to rethink the concept.”

Susan wipes at her eyes, takes a breath. “I know. It’s not fair. But Stephen is an innocent and shouldn’t have to suffer for our”—she makes a sweeping motion to encompass us all—“mistake.”

She digs into a purse she’d tucked in the chair beside her when she sat down and pulls out a picture. She thrusts it toward me. “This is Stephen.”

I take it from her outstretched hands, but do I even have to look at it? Stephen Powers. Last night. I drop my eyes and look at the picture.

It’s a studio shot. Professionally lit, professionally staged. The man is handsome, square-jawed, blue-eyed, looks to be in his thirties. He’s facing the camera, gaze clear and direct, a blue button-down deepening the color of his eyes. His hair is a golden blond, touched at the temples with silver. His demeanor projects confidence. And a comfortable familiarity with the spotlight.

Different from last night, when he wasn’t in his element.

But definitely the same man.

Seeing the picture, I finally connect name and face.

I glance up at Susan. “Is he a reporter?”

She nods. “For the local CBS affiliate.”

So he might have been in that parking lot to meet a source? Smith, maybe?

I must have taken too long, or been staring too hard at the picture because Susan says, “What is it, Anna? Do you know Stephen?”

Know him? Not yet, anyway. I shake my head. “I’ve seen him. Recently.”

Susan skewers me with her gaze. “You’ve seen him? Where? On television.”

Thank you. No sense adding to her concern by mentioning her brother was in a deserted parking lot last night waving a gun. “Yes.” I’m sure I have seen him on television at one time or another. I start to hand the picture back to her but she waves toward me. “Keep it.”

I laid it on the desk. “When did you say he went missing?”

“I’m not sure. Must have been late last night or early this morning. He was supposed to meet me for breakfast. He never showed.”

“Why do you think they took him?”

Ariela answers. “Because he is well known. And he knows about our community. I think they realize his absence would be missed and should we not cooperate, his death will cause ripples in both the mortal and otherworldly planes. A warning to others not to make the same mistake we did.”

Suspecting that Stephen, a reporter, was in that lot to meet somebody he didn’t trust explains the gun. What isn’t so clear is why whoever is after us didn’t take us both when he had the chance. I see no point is sharing this with the witches. These questions will be better answered once I get wherever it is I’m going.

“You said he knows about our community. Is he a witch, too?”

Susan shakes her head. “No. He inherited no supernatural powers. But he grew up in the household of a powerful witch, our mother. He watched as my abilities grew. He knows that there are other supernatural creatures sharing this world and he pledged to keep that secret always. To this day, he has.”

Min takes Susan’s trembling hand in her own. “Anna, none of us is to blame for what happened. No. That’s