Spellbound In Seattle

CHAPTER ONE

The Present--but not quite here and now...

Petra W. Field needed to get the blood out of her rug.

She’d spent the last three hours scrubbing. Yet nothing had removed the bright red puddle from the middle of the large area rug which covered her living room floor. At least the numerous cleaning products had accomplished one thing. The slightly rotten smell was gone. Although she wasn’t so sure the mixture of lemon scent, April fresh flowers and mountain pines, combined with a dash of hospital disinfectant, was much of an improvement.

Her housewarming party was due to start in less than an hour and she had magic blood on her rug. Only magic could explain the way that darn puddle kept reappearing. She had no options left. Squaring her shoulders, she picked up the phone and dialed.

Good evening. You have reached the offices of Rapid Renovations. Please choose from the following menu to assure you are connected with the proper department.

She made a sound of frustration. She hated these answering systems. Sure, the technical wizards had managed to make them slightly more intelligent, but the menus they offered never seemed to have selections even remotely close to what she needed.

"Press 1 if you want a spell cast. Press 19 for a love spell.

"Press 2 if a spell has been cast on you and you need it broken. Press 29 if it’s a love spell.

"Press 3 if you need to hire a sword master. Press 39 if you prefer an Amazon.

Press 4 if you need the services of a wizard. If you wish to request a specific wizard, please--

Petra caught a flicker of black and white out of the corner of her eye. She dropped the phone, lunged for her cat and scooped him up just before he pounced on the bloody stain. She hated to think what might happen to Bosco if magic blood got on him. Despite his protests, she shut him in the bathroom.

Oh, crud. The phone. She got back just in time to hear, If you wish to repeat the menu, please press 9.

Drat. She jabbed the proper button. Yes, I want to hear it again, you stupid piece of junk. She'd been ready to punch a number but couldn't remember which one. You should’ve stopped when you heard me drop the phone.

Thank you for thinking of Rapid Renovations. Please choose from the menu to ensure you reach the proper department.

Tuning out the first part of the message since she’d already heard it, she admitted she had second thoughts about this whole venture into Magic Land. The first scientist-wizards had discovered how to combine the laws of physics and sorcery nearly fifty years ago. Since then, not all cities or states had passed laws favorable to the use of magic. However, Seattle had quickly become the West Coast center for magical activity.

The city remained on the cutting edge of incorporating wizardry into mainstream life. Much as Starbucks Coffee had slowly infiltrated the rest of the country, the magic community hoped to do the same with their skills and talents. She’d moved here from Albuquerque to inject some excitement in her overly mundane existence.

Plus it was a good place to hide from Harold. Knowing her opinion of wizards, he’d never expect her to willingly subject herself to living smack-dab in the middle of Magic Central. So, here she was--in Seattle for only a week and already up to her eyeballs in magic. Chalk it up to temporary insanity. It served her right. Considering her past experiences with magic, she should have expected this disaster. Oops, she’d forgotten to listen again.

--if you need them tomorrow. Press 78 if you need them immediately.

She pressed 78. Whatever it was, she definitely needed it immediately.

Thank you for choosing Rapid Renovations for your magical needs. Please select from the following menu to guarantee you reach the proper department.

No, Petra shouted into the phone. Just let me talk to a real person.

Press 1--

She pressed 1, not up to going through the whole thing again.

She really hated wizards, but everybody knew it took magic to remove magic. It just had to be magic blood, didn’t it? Too bad she didn’t have any skills, or she could do the job herself. Now she’d run out of time. Her guests would arrive in less than an hour. She had to do whatever it took to get rid of that blood.

The phone clicked and whirred. She actually felt a small amount of hope. Nope, no such luck.

All our operators are busy at this time. Please hold until the next available operator can take your call.

Trying to be patient, she mentally ran down her list of things-to-do. Thank heavens she’d hired a caterer rather than try to fix the food herself. The house was clean--except for the stupid blood. She only needed to change clothes before her first guest arrived. Everything was under control.

Ha! Who was she trying to kid?

Listen here, you dumb hunk of junk. I told you I needed help immediately. That means now. Let me talk to a real person. Or I swear I’m going to come down there and yank all your tiny little wires out of the wall.

Silence greeted her threat. With a sigh, she picked up the business card beside the phone. "Rapid Renovations. We fix it, quick as a wizard’s wink. No questions."

Evidently wizards winked pretty darn slow here in Seattle. On the up side, they promised to ask no questions. She didn’t want to get involved with the police, filling out reports, going in for questioning. Not that she had anything to hide--about this anyway. Recent portions of her past wouldn’t stand up to inspection. Unfortunately, a murder investigation would surely bring those other aspects under scrutiny.

She hated to think the word murder. Other than the spot, nothing else disturbed her house. There were no bloody footprints, no smears where someone might have walked or crawled away, or been dragged off. Just that blasted puddle sitting there in silent accusation. Since she hadn’t found a body anywhere, assault maybe?

She wished cats could talk. Her newly adopted cat had been a perfect gentleman since he’d shown up on her porch last week. When she’d arrived home from work, Bosco had been in the front window, napping in the sun, his black and white fur pristine. He might not be the culprit, but he must have seen something.

She supposed things could be worse. If she’d had a normal childhood, instead of being raised by two wizards, she’d probably be having a nice case of hysterics right about now. But years of coming home to Mom’s and Dad’s experiments had pretty much made her immune to screaming fits. She couldn’t quite recall if it had been the ogre in her closet, the fire breathing dragon in the basement, or maybe the pink dancing elephants, which had given her nerves of steel. No, she remembered now. It had been--

Thank you for calling Rapid Renovations. This is Bob. How may I assist you?

Oh. It took a moment to comprehend she finally had a real person and not another recording. She blurted, I have blood on my rug. I came home from work, and there it was.

Thank you. We’ll have a team there as soon as possible.

I need--

The line went dead. She held out her cell phone and looked at it vacantly for several seconds. With slow careful movements she hung up and struggled to control her rising panic. But you didn’t even get my address.

She hated how forlorn her voice sounded. What the heck should she do now? At a loss, she glanced around the room, hoping another solution would present itself. How did one get rid of a manhole-sized spot anyway? Why couldn’t it at least be smaller, easier to hide?

If she’d thought of it earlier, she might have rolled up the rug and stuck it in the back bedroom with the unpacked boxes. Now there wasn’t enough time. Besides, what if, after all that, the blood had soaked through and stained the floor underneath as well?

Should she just rearrange the furniture to cover the spot? No, her sofa smack in the middle of the living room would raise nearly as many uncomfortable questions as blood out there for all the world to see. Considering she worked for an interior design company, folks would be likely to question her unusual furniture arrangement.

There remained only one thing to do. She would lock the doors, turn out the lights, hide her car around the corner and pretend no one was home. When she went to work tomorrow she’d invent some emergency and lie. Bosco’s loud complaining yowls from the bathroom should add a nice touch to her story.

The doorbell rang and she nearly jumped out of her shoes. She shot a glance at the clock. It was way too early for her guests. Nobody came to a party forty minutes early, did they? She hoped they would all be fashionably late. She tiptoed to the door and peeked out the peephole. Her jaw literally fell open in amazement. Gathering her wits, she opened the door.

Good evening, Miss Field. I’m from Emerald Renaissance Garments and I’m here to clean your rug.

Emerald...what? Petra stared at the man who stood on her front porch. He wore a long green robe. She had the fleeting thought that he’d escaped from a convention of Merlin-wannabes. Even weirder, he looked exactly like the actor Val Kilmer. I didn’t call you.

I’m aware you called our competitors, Rapid Renovations. He offered her a dazzling smile along with his business card. However, we at Emerald Renaissance Garments can deliver faster service at a more reasonable price.

The printing on the card had so many curlicues it was nearly impossible to read. She managed to make out the company name and, "Think green when you go to renovate. This didn’t make any sense. But...how--?"

Magic, miss. That’s our business.

She lost her train of thought when he smiled, his brilliant white teeth flashing in the last of the evening light. Impressive. She decided he must use a super strength ultra-charming spell to enhance his physical appearance. What a great way to recruit new customers. Especially female customers. Too bad he had wasted it on her.

How much--?

The squeal of tires cut off her words. A neon orange panel truck careened to a halt in front of her house. Three people in orange overalls piled out. They raced up the sidewalk, tool belts jangling, buckets clanging. It didn’t look like they meant to stop. She stepped back, fearful of being trampled.

The man in the green robe blocked the way. This job’s already been taken. Go back to your hole, fellas.

Dugan, what the devil are you doing here? This is our job.

Not any more. And the Devil had nothing to do with it. Miss Field simply prefers to use a more efficient company.

Petra tried to tell them she hadn’t hired anybody yet.

Stop wasting my customer’s valuable time, Dugan insisted. Get a faster truck if you want to stay on top.

She wasn’t surprised to see the crew in orange turn around and go back the way they came, although at a much slower pace. Mr. Green Robe had been quite authoritative and intimidating. She hoped he did as well with the spot. Thank you, Mister...?

Dugan, he told her with another of those wide smiles.

She nearly told him not to squander a perfectly good spell. Considering her record with wizards, she was the last woman he should waste his talents on. To be fair though, he’d come here to do a job. Maybe he turned on the ultra-charm in hopes he could charge more money in an emergency situation.

Very well, Mr. Dugan.

He whipped out a piece of paper and pen from nowhere. Just sign on the dotted line.

In too much of a hurry to argue, she glanced at the contract. The fee seemed a little high, but not outrageous. She quickly scrawled her name and indicated she’d pay by credit card. Please come in. And please, tell me you can get this stain out.

Tucking the paper back wherever it had come from, he followed her into the living room. No prob--

When he stopped abruptly, she got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. No problem? she asked hopefully.

Dugan knelt beside the stain and removed a device from his pocket. It looked like a small hand-held video game. He waved it over the blood, intently studying whatever the compact screen told him. It didn’t take a genius to read the look on his face. Petra knew he wouldn’t give her good news.

I’m afraid you’ve got a real problem here, Miss Field.

Great. Just great. So you can’t remove it?

Well, yes, he said in a firm voice. But--

I thought--

Please don’t interrupt. We don’t have the time.

Even though he’d done the same to her, she apologized. As long as this guy got rid of that blood, she would do whatever she had to. Sorry.

This can be removed, but it’s going to take longer than the thirty minutes you have until your guests arrive.

How do you know--?

I told you, Miss Field. It’s my business to know. Now, do you want to continue this unnecessary questioning? Or do you want to hear my plan?

Sorry, she said for the second time. His charm spell must have slipped. Now he looked more like a young Ron Howard. Was it too late to call back the guys in the orange overalls? Please, go on.

As I was saying, this can’t be removed right now, but an invisibility spell can be used on it. Since the spot has such strong magical properties, that spell will only last until midnight. Will your party be over by then?

Tell you what. I’ll just invite everybody to stay until then so they can watch a puddle of blood magically appear in the middle of my living room.

There’s no need to be sarcastic, Miss Field. A simple yes or no would suffice.

Sorry, she told him yet again, not caring how surly she sounded. Trust me. Everyone will be gone long before midnight.

Very well. We’ll return then and begin the removal spell. Dugan headed for the front door.

Where are you going? she demanded. I thought--

I’m going out to the truck to call my wizard on our radio. She can be here in two minutes to cast the invisibility spell.

She let him go, not wanting another lecture about time management. She wondered why he’d arrived at a job minus his wizard. Surely it would be more effective to have the expert on scene right from the beginning. On the other hand, that undoubtedly explained how he had gotten here so soon. Interesting that Mr. Dugan wasn’t a wizard himself. What was his position with the company? Public relations, probably.

When the doorbell rang twenty-five minutes later, Petra took a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen would help clear her mind. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she made one last visual sweep of the living room. Everything was in order. It even smelled nice, thanks to the spicy vanilla candles scattered around the room.

A quick glance down at her dress gave her morale another much needed boost. The short skirt and thin straps of the red silk dress made her feel slinky, sexy even. Although, all things considered, she would prefer a color other than red. Well, she was as ready as she’d ever be.

Opening the door, she smiled at her boss and welcomed him. She hoped Dugan and his wizard shut the back door tight on their way out. And hopefully Bosco would stop meowing from the spare bedroom before too long.

CHAPTER TWO

Gads, I didn’t think they’d ever leave, Petra said to the empty room.

She leaned back against the front door and glanced at her watch. Eleven forty-five. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined everyone would have such a great time they wouldn’t leave. She always gave boring parties.

Of course, she had never worked for, or with, people like these before. Being office manager for an interior decorating firm that included a wizard, a psychic and a witch on the payroll constituted quite a career change for her. Taking up skydiving or bungee jumping would have counteracted her boredom with much less stress.

Without warning a figure appeared in her hallway. With a yelp she leapt away from the door. What are you doing here? How did you get--?

Actually, Miss Field, the blond man in the emerald robe explained, we never left.

Mr. Dugan had been here all along? Where had he been hiding? Her house wasn’t very large. It contained only a front room, kitchen, bath and three bedrooms. A shady old fashioned porch wrapped around the house and gave it a sense of welcome she hadn’t been able to resist.

I like your pigs.

What? She had heard him. She simply didn’t want to believe what he’d said.

Nice pigs.

Mr. Dugan, what were you doing in my bedroom?

I wanted to be close by in case something happened.

She reminded him, and herself, What could you have done? You aren’t even a wizard.

Speaking of wizards... The wizard he’d brought in earlier to work the invisibility spell had not inspired confidence. She had never seen anyone who looked less like a wizard. The girl, Caylin, appeared to be about twelve years old, playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes.

I was here too, Miss Field.

Caylin stepped into the living room and Petra couldn’t help but smile. The little wizard looked so darn cute in that long green robe. No, she refused to be sucked in by those innocent blue eyes. She didn’t need cute. She needed competent.

Good. Now finish the job and get that blood off my rug.

The two E.R.G. employees exchanged a look.

You can get rid of the blood, can’t you? she asked.

Another look flew between them.

You promised you'd remove it after the party. She hated the edge of desperation that crept into her words.

That spot had to come out. She couldn’t go through the rest of her life tiptoeing around a bloody spot the size of a manhole in the middle of her front room. A permanent invisibility spell was not a viable option either. All during the party people had circled it, avoided it and talked about the cold draft. With all the psychic power that had surrounded her house tonight, she’d held her breath in fear someone would volunteer to investigate. Thankfully, they’d all been too polite to offer.

Dugan said, Caylin isn’t certain she has enough power to do an effective job. A knock sounded at the door and he grinned. Ah, here he is now.

He who? Petra asked, but Dugan had already turned away. He whipped the door open with a flourish. She actually gasped at the figure standing on her front porch.

A man in yet another long green robe glided into the room. Seeing him move was like watching water flow. His very presence filled the room, a room which suddenly seemed smaller. The air seemed to take on a crisp clean scent like a refreshing breeze straight from the ocean. Even a non-talent such as Petra could feel his power prickle along her arms and tingle at the base of her spine.

Wow, she breathed in an awed whisper. He was as dark and forbidding as Dugan was light and charming. She might be magic-blind but the power seemed to roll off the wizard in nearly visible waves. His long dark hair was secured in a tidy braid that hung halfway down his back. His eyes reminded her of black bottomless pools of water, deep and mysterious and scary.

Miss Field, I’d like you to meet Emerald Renaissance Garment’s senior wizard, Vorador. Now that you’re our client, you can trust him with your life.

The tingle along her arms turned into goosebumps. Gads, what if she wasn’t a client? Should she not trust the wizard then--with her life, or anything else? The wizard totally dominated the room, demanding all her attention. What had happened to Dugan’s charming spell? Next to Vorador, Dugan looked about as appealing as the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Not quite certain she meant it, she said, Nice to meet you.

You have a problem. The dark wizard’s voice rolled through the room like the thunder of doom.

His words were like a splash of cold water in her face. Gee, tell me something I don’t know.

He turned his black piercing gaze in her direction. He was just like every other wizard she’d ever known: arrogant, judgmental and a pain in the-- She managed to hold his look for a few seconds before she glanced away. Her gaze fell on the spot of blood, once more extremely visible on the rug.

It’s back, she told them, just in case nobody had noticed.

It will continue to come back until the victim of this crime is laid to rest and the villain brought to justice.

His deep rumbling voice raised goosebumps on top of her goosebumps. Or maybe it was what he said. Or it could be the fact that he stood there like a statue. She couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. She did know his words were not what she wanted to hear.

Just great. And I’m supposed to live with this?

Without speaking, he studied her for several long moments, then asked in a deceptively bland voice, You don’t want to see justice done for this poor troubled soul?

Truthfully, not tonight. Petra knew that sounded callous, but it had been a long day. She was exhausted.

Now I’ve had time to think about it, I doubt anyone was killed here today, she said. She definitely didn’t want these guys to call the police. She had no intention of making it easy for Harold to find her. The blood must be left from some older crime. Surely it’s been solved by now anyway.

She could feel the weight of the three silent condemning gazes on her, but she plunged onward. Magic has obviously been used to conceal it. And obviously that makes me an innocent bystander.

Depending on your point of view, she was either one of the cursed, or blessed beyond measure. On a scale of one to ten, her magic potential registered right about zero. Until meeting this wizard she had never before felt anything even remotely magical. No matter how disappointed her parents had been, or how hard they had tried to teach her some magic, any magic, she couldn’t weave a spell to save her life. That meant she couldn’t be involved in whatever crime had left magic blood on her rug.

Why don’t you just take the rug with you? Bring it back when it’s clean.

That is not an option, he informed her in his doom-and-gloom voice.

Well, she had tried. She sighed, knowing he was correct. Too often magic was tied to the place as well as the object.

All I want right now is go to bed and forget about blood and wizards. So, just do your job and get the dang spot out.

It will take time, he said. He had the same look Mom and Dad had when they’d finally accepted they’d given birth to a magical dud.

How much time? Used to dealing with people’s disappointment in her, she ignored it in this man’s voice.

As long as it takes.

She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes in frustration. He still stood in the exact same spot by the front door. He made a gorgeous statue, but he also made her nervous. Yeah, that’s what it was. It couldn’t be attraction she felt simmering just below the surface of her skin.

Starting to pace, simply to counteract his immobility, she asked, How much extra is this going to cost me?

You’ve paid your fee, Miss Field, and signed the contract, Dugan answered in a firm voice. We at E.R.G. stand by our word. We won’t rest until you’re satisfied.

She wouldn’t debate the state of her satisfaction. Surely she’d been plain enough that right about now it was nil. Stifling a yawn, she wondered exactly how far Dugan meant to carry his promise of, No rest till it’s done. Or was it a threat?

I can’t deal with any more of this mumbo-jumbo tonight. All things considered, maybe I ought to pack some clothes and Bosco, head out to a hotel and leave this whole mess to you wizards. She wondered if she could afford that extravagance No telling how long it might take to clear up this predicament.

That’s your decision, Miss Field, Vorador said, however, it will not hasten the end results.

Maybe I should have followed my first instincts and hired the guys in orange. At least they promised rapid renovations. All you guys have done is parade around in ridiculous green robes you probably buy in bulk at some discount warehouse.

Neither man had any response to that but merely stared at her. She couldn’t decide if they were stunned into silence by her bluntness, or trying not to lose their tempers.

Can you be a bit more precise about the time frame, fellas? She knew she sounded as disgusted as she felt. Too bad for them. I have a busy day tomorrow.

Miss Field, Caylin spoke up in a timid voice, tomorrow is Sunday. We don’t do magic on Sunday.

Everyone looked at Caylin. Under their scrutiny she seemed to shrink even further into her over-sized green robe. Petra had a feeling the junior wizard wished she hadn’t brought Vorador’s attention her way. She understood exactly how she felt. Out of sympathy, or stupidity, she broke the thick silence.

Whatever. Listen, Mr. Wizard, do what you can right now. Tomorrow, come back after I’ve had some sleep. Because I will not wait until Monday to get rid of this blood.

I don’t think--

She has pigs. Dugan interrupted whatever Vorador had been about to say in that oh-so-serious, I-disapprove-of-this-whole-situation tone of voice.

Really? Vorador asked.

The two men shared a look.

Yes, really, she snapped, ready to smack the wide grin off Dugan’s face.

The temptation to do violence doubled when Vorador actually smiled back. She had a feeling the wizard rarely used that expression. No, she refused to be distracted. She didn’t care that his dark eyes gleamed with roguish mischief. No, she didn’t care that he had a hint of dimple in his lean cheek. No, no, no. She didn’t care one little bit