Death's Ethereal Enemy: Mystery (January Chevalier Supernatural Mysteries Book 4) Read online

Simon nodded. “That was why you found a spell… what spell was it?”

  January explained how she’d taken the precognitive spell and edited it a little. She looked at Simon, questioningly. He was the only other magic user she knew, who was anywhere close to her level, and he had a knack for coming up with spells.

  “You did that so you could see this ghost stalker, so he couldn’t keep spying on you?” Simon asked.

  January nodded, emphatically. “It worked! I can see him. No more sneaking around.”

  Simon gave her a funny look. “Surely, if you didn’t want him to pry, you’d have just used a simple ‘spirit away’ device. I have one in my office when I work.”

  January frowned and tried not to think about Leah saying pretty much the same thing.

  “I suppose you weren’t brought up with all this. Of course, there’s also the fact that you want to see Emerson, rather than just make sure he can’t get close to you.” Simon looked up at the ceiling, which had apparently just become fascinating.

  “I thought I might be able to get some useful information out of him,” she said, determined to miss what he was insinuating.

  Simon raised his eyebrows. “Right. So, I didn’t just hear you arguing about Gregory. And then the super ancient vampire said he was going to give you magic lessons.” Simon looked at her. “Come on, January. That’s so transparent, it’s unreal.”

  “He’s thousands of years old. He just wants to use me for whatever reason. That’s actually why we’re both in this mess. These vampires like to use people. While you were eavesdropping, you must have also heard he wants to make me pay for those lessons. He’s not talking about money.”

  Simon pulled a face.

  “Or that!” January said, blushing furiously.

  “So, you have considered it,” Simon said.

  Too late, she realised she’d slipped up.

  “No.” She paced around the front of the room. “I just want to see if he’ll tell me anything useful, so we can all get out of our stupid contracts and live normal lives again. I was also hoping he’d teach me something good,” she confessed.

  Simon rolled his eyes. “As if he’d teach you anything good when he knows you’re planning to kill him.”

  “Maybe he won’t realise it’s dangerous until it’s too late,” she said, hopefully.

  “Unlikely,” Simon said, shooting her another knowing look.

  “Oh, shut up,” she said, walking out of the sitting room and hovering in the hallway. “Thanks for the information, even though it’s completely useless because I can’t get anywhere close to your research centre.” She hesitated. “I don’t even know where it is!”

  “London,” Simon said.

  “Really?” January pulled a face. “I guess that does make sense. It’s weird to think of you going through ancient books in the middle of metropolitan London.”

  “Well, it’s hardly in the middle. It’s actually in a rather destitute area.”

  “Again… really?” January repeated, finding this stranger by the second.

  Simon gave her a look that said ‘do I really have to explain everything to you?’. “It’s in a place where bad things happen to people all the time. If anyone tries to get into the rather rundown looking warehouse under the railway bridge, they don’t get out alive. You’d be surprised how rumours spread in a neighbourhood like that. Now no one tries.”

  “I’m guessing fighting my way in probably isn’t subtle enough,” January said.

  Simon shrugged. “Maybe you’d get the book, but you probably don’t want them to know you know what they know.” He rubbed his temples. “This is getting confusing.”

  “I’ll have to think of something else,” January said, feeling like she was throwing yet another log on the blazing fire of things she had to think about, and it was wildly burning out of control.

  “Congratulations on being a millionaire. Maybe you can buy a nice penthouse suite for you and Jinx,” she said, pulling the front door open.

  Simon slipped in front of her, blocking her way in a catlike manner, designed to trip you up. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He pointed to the broken pane of glass, where January had invited herself into the property the last time she’d been there.

  “Surely a little thing like that doesn’t bother a millionaire,” she said, with a smile.

  Simon stuck his hands on his hips. “My research tells me that I’m not the only millionaire standing in the hallway right now. Anyway, I am horrified by such a shoddy attempt to break-in when you have the entire world of magical methods available to you. You’re paying for a replacement to teach you to think before you act.”

  “Fine,” January said, pulling some money out of her pocket and handing it over. “Let me know if you manage to get your hands on that book. Or if you find out what happened to that Delimon guy,” she added.

  She opened her mouth and shut it again, before turning to leave.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to me,” Simon reassured her.

  She pretended to look surprised.

  “I know you care,” Simon told her with a sideways smile.

  “I was actually going to tell you to check on the rabbit. Silence is bad. He’s up to something,” she warned him, with an answering smile.

  “He’s just sulking,” Simon said, but she noticed his eyes flicked nervously back towards the cupboard where Jinx presumably still resided.

  She wished Simon goodbye, hoping he would bite the bullet and check on the rabbit.

  She hoped that the rabbit wasn’t lying in wait for exactly that.

  14

  Wracked with guilt over leaving him behind and then waiting until the end of the conversation to ask Emerson, January went to visit Gregory that evening.

  It was strange to return to The Witch’s Wand after what felt like a long time spent away. Not much had changed. There were still crowds of black lace and leather wearing punters outside, and the interior was just as medieval as it had always been. January reflected that the last time she had been here was for Gregory’s birthday, where she’d met King Bob and had saved Gregory’s life - without him even being aware he’d nearly died.

  “You’re looking for Gregory,” the vampire barman said. January didn’t think she’d ever seen him before, but he clearly knew who she was and was looking at her with something that might even have been respect.

  Then again, it could just be fear. She knew she was a cautionary tale to any vampire who misbehaved. ‘The black unicorn’ was akin to the boogie monster.

  “Where is he?” January asked, her eyes constantly scanning the room - just in case. Her sister had already proved she could be taken unawares. While she was apparently a lot harder to kill in a permanent fashion these days, she was still trying to keep that under wraps. You never knew when it might come in handy.

  “He’s upstairs in his apartment. He never comes down. Jane runs everything now.” The barman made direct eye contact with January for the first time. “It’s not my place to say anything, but wherever he keeps disappearing to, it can’t be good. Every time he comes back, he gets worse. If it weren’t for Jane, we’d all be out on our asses, without two coppers to rub together.”

  January nodded, feeling her jaw set in a grim line. Whatever Emerson had done to Gregory was ruining more than just the life of the head vampire.

  And for what? She still had no idea why Emerson had done it, other than to inconvenience her.

  “Gregory?” she called, when she’d made it to the top of the stairs and had found his front door unlocked. She wandered in, looking around at the surprisingly homely furnishings. The dark wooden beams of the pub’s roof, crisscrossed the pointed ceiling, and the walls were a warm shade of cream. Well-used leather sofas, complete with tartan throws, and a wooden floor with a sheepskin rug, completed the surprisingly un-vampiric decor. There was even a wood burner and a neatly stacked basket of logs, presumably in preparation for the winter months
. January half-expected to see a pair of tartan slippers next to one of the chairs.

  The only thing missing was the vampire.

  “Gregory?” she called again, walking through into what she hoped was the bedroom.

  It turned out to be a study, filled with meticulous financial records and trashy thriller novels. January felt her eyebrows rise even higher. It was amazing what walking through someone’s home could teach you about a person.

  But Gregory wasn’t in this room either.

  She kept walking through the long apartment until she reached the master bedroom. Even this room was not what she’d been expecting. Instead of lavish crushed velvet drapes and an old-fashioned four poster bed, he had an oak-framed king-size double bed with a tasteful watercolour painting of rolling hills and the sea beyond, in a frame above the headboard.

  There was a wooden stake on the bed.

  January picked it up and looked at it with growing concern. Why did Gregory have a weapon capable of killing a vampire lying around in his house? In the past, she would have immediately assumed it was for the purposes of self-defence, but right now… she wasn’t so sure.

  “Gregory?” she said again, the feeling of unease growing.

  “I heard you the first time.” Gregory Drax walked out of the bathroom, towelling off his blonde hair. Unfortunately, the towel he was using to dry his hair was the only one he had on.

  January looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the familiar rush of feelings she still hadn’t had time to properly consider.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Terrible. I thought things couldn’t get much worse, but then I was abandoned at a military compound. No one even realised I was still there until a day later.” He sighed. “I know I’ve been a big fish in a small pond for a long time, and this has put it into perspective for me, but I still think that’s taking it a little too far. Can’t they just cut me loose from their employment if I’m that forgettable?” He sat down on the bed with his head in his hands. The towel was abandoned on the floor.

  “I’m sorry I left you. Emerson said Warwick would have tried to kill me if I stayed.”

  “Permanently?” Gregory asked and January nodded. She’d never told Gregory about her first death on Wembley Arena’s stage in front of thousands of people, but being Gregory, he would never have assumed it was a publicity stunt, and he knew that she was enchanter. Aside from the Old Ones, he was one of the oldest things on the planet, and that meant he was more accepting of what might seem impossible to anyone else.

  “My sister killed me the night after I got back,” January said, wanting to share it with him, for some reason.

  In the old days, Gregory would have seized this potential piece of local leverage with both hands. Now he simply looked mildly curious. “What happened?”

  “I got a splitting headache.” January shook her head when the joke fell flat. “She came back and didn’t bother to say hello. Once I was back in the world of the living, we chatted, and it turns out she thought I murdered our parents, or at least had something to do with it.” She shrugged. “I’d actually assumed they’d got involved with whatever Jo was doing in Paris and had come off badly. I have no idea what really happened now.” She hesitated. “I think Jo wants me to find out.”

  Gregory made a vague noise of agreement and January looked at him. The old Gregory would have said something about her sister doing something for herself for once, or perhaps even implied that Jo had murdered them herself. After all, she’d had no qualms about killing her sister. Then he’d probably have made a dirty joke and January would have hated him and loved him for it all at the same time.

  She felt a knot grow in her throat when she thought about that.

  Surely it didn’t mean?

  “We’ve got to get you better, Gregory. Emerson is responsible for this, and I’m sure I can fix it. What’s the point of being an enchanter if I can’t, right?” she said, hoping to raise a smile.

  Gregory just looked depressed.

  “Okay…” she said and concentrated.

  There was nothing around Gregory when she looked at him with her witch sight. No one had lain any spells on him that she could see or feel, and she trusted her senses. January was forced to wrack her very limited knowledge about the different types of magic that could have been used. If a spell hadn’t been put on Gregory directly, what about Voodoo or a hex bag? She spread her magic out, searching the apartment but there was nothing magical in the place.

  Wait.

  There was something.

  She stood up and walked back into the living room and got down on her knees to look behind the sofa. Her hand delved back there, and she pulled out the sword and the shield she’d used in the arena. They sang softly to her, the faint blue pulse of magic still in place.

  “Did you decide to take a souvenir?” she called.

  Gregory mooched into the living room, now dressed in pyjama bottoms. The old Gregory would never have contemplated wearing them in front of any company, but at least it was less distracting than his appearance had been a few moments earlier.

  “Oh, those. I don’t really remember. I woke up back here and they were in a bag next to me.” He shrugged.

  January left them on the sofa and tried to return her attention to Gregory. Her magic seemed to have fizzled out when she’d hit what felt like a dead end. There were no traces of any spell-work around. She could almost hear Emerson laughing at her.

  “Think… what would he do?” she said, feeling ridiculous. How would it be possible for someone in her twenties to figure out the actions of a vampire, nearly as old as time itself?

  The answer surprisingly came to her. Emerson may be old, but age breeds habits, rather than unpredictability.

  “I hope I’m right,” she muttered and gestured that Gregory should sit down on the sofa.

  She sat down next to him and did her very best to get back to that ethereal level of being she’d managed to attain, when she’d changed her signature.

  Changing herself was easy compared to this. Gregory was not the same as a living person on the ethereal plane. Instead of the spiralling complexity, which reminded January of DNA, there was almost a negative space. He must have done something, she thought, knowing Emerson had seemed way too smug. It has to be this! Her mind spoke, knowing that she had no other ideas, if this wasn’t the source of Gregory's changed mood. She didn’t want to contemplate an unknown alternative. That stake on the bed had felt very final.

  She reached into the void, hoping to find something.

  When she did find something, she regretted it.

  What she’d thought was a void, was actually a mould-like substance - the same black mould that had eaten her happiness bubble. And now it was attacking her.

  She looked in horror at her ethereal body. Her hands were already turning black.

  What do I do? she thought, feeling as though she should give up and lose herself in the interconnecting neurones of the entire world.

  Then she did something unexpected.

  She changed into a unicorn.

  January looked down at her front hooves and saw the blackness there, but it didn’t bother her as much in this form. I can’t wait, or it will happen all over again! she thought, instinctively knowing that if she failed now, there would be no coming back. She would float through the space here, presumably forever, as her body refused to die.

  And Emerson had known that was what would happen.

  She felt anger surge through her, fuelling her power the way it had when Warwick had let off the magical bomb, and she’d felt his lack of concern for her survival. Emerson had known she’d try to help Gregory this way, and he’d planned for the mould to get her, too. It was tough to kill an enchanter, but leaving them lost and insane… that was just as good, right?

  If she got out of here, she was going to kill him.

  When she got out of here, she mentally corrected, and jumped towards the mould coating Gregory�
�s signature. She felt the power leave her, white and pure - the same power she’d displayed when she’d defended herself against Warwick’s spell. Now it cleaved through the black sludgy mould. The mould peeled away, leaving something translucent and glass-like behind. She stared at it in awe, wondering how she'd ever thought that Gregory’s signature, perhaps even his soul, was a void. She could see her own signature next to his, silver and shining. His shone too, but it was finer and more clear. It looked so fragile, January was surprised it had survived the onslaught of mould. It was no wonder Leah had claimed vampires were harder to find in this ethereal world.

  She spent another couple of seconds looking at it before she pulled herself fully back into her body.

  “You were so zoned out, I thought I was going to have to stand you in the corner as a doorstop,” Gregory said.

  She looked across at his storm grey eyes, which were both filled with curiosity, and slightly unnerved. Her mouth curved upwards into a grin. “I’m so glad to have you back.”

  Gregory looked down at his fingernails and frowned at the state they were in. “What I want to know, is what the hell took you so long?”

  January lightly punched his arm. “I thought you were just being dramatic. You only have yourself to blame.”

  To her relief, Gregory smiled, but it wasn’t long before his expression clouded again. “They nearly got me. I was so close to…” He trailed off.

  “I’m going to kill Emerson,” she told him, furious about the way the ancient vampire had done his best to kill Gregory, knowing that she would almost certainly be as good as dead when she tried to help him.

  “I thought we were going to kill them all, but so far, I’d say that things aren’t going to plan.” Gregory raised an eyebrow at her.

  “We’re back on track now, though, aren’t we?” She bit her lip as an idea flashed into her mind. A smile blossomed on her face. “I’ve got an idea,” she said.

  Emerson wasn’t going to be so pleased with himself when he found out he’d given her the very tools she needed to take something from right underneath his nose.