WARLOCK_His Coven. His Magick. His Soulmate. Page 3

  Reaching the stairs, she looked ahead and saw a black padded door with a porthole window. As they approached it was opened by an attractive man, also sporting long hair, though not as thick or as lustrous as Laszio's.

  "This is Vanya," Laszio declared, pausing to introduce her. "She'll be joining me for dinner."

  "Nice to meet you, Vanya."

  "Tannen is the manager here," Laszio continued. "If you should ever come back and want to see me, ask for him. He'll make sure you're made comfortable, then he'll find me."

  "It's nice to meet you, Tannen," Vanya said, shaking his hand, "though I'm not sure I'll be back. It's a great place, but I'm not exactly a nightclub person. I suppose I might stop into the restaurant sometime, though I might feel a bit weird sitting at a table by myself. I could always sit at the bar though, and you also serve food in the club, which is such a good idea."

  She blushed.

  She'd babbled.

  That only happened when she was nervous, and she realized she was, because of the gorgeous man standing at her side.

  "Well, if you do return don't hesitate to ask for me," Tannen said kindly. "I'll make sure you're taken care of."

  "This way," Laszio said, ushering her down the wide, thickly carpeted, softly-lit hall.

  He stopped at a door with a brass plaque that read, DINING, and pushing it open, he gestured for her to enter. She found herself in an intimate wood-paneled room with a full bar, and a dozen tables with black tablecloths and red napkins. Two waiters dressed in black trousers and black shirts with red bowties were busy serving, and a voluptuous dark-haired woman in a floor-length black dress was walking towards them.

  "Hello, Laszio. You have a guest this evening?"

  "Good evening, Sophia. Yes, this is Vanya."

  "What a beautiful name."

  "Thank you."

  "It's Slavic, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "We're going to sit down," Laszio declared, making it clear the conversation had come to an end. "Bring a menu please."

  "Of course, Laszio."

  He guided Vanya towards a secluded booth tucked away in a corner, and as he touched the small of her back, she felt the same delicious tingling she'd experienced when he'd taken her hand. It wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, it was giving her nether regions a wonderfully warm feeling. Sliding into the booth, she watched him unfasten his vest, and was surprised that his shirt had no buttons, but an open slit to the middle of his chest. She couldn't help but eye his impressive pecs.

  "Here's your menu, Vanya," Sophia declared, arriving at the table and handing her a black leather folder. "Can I bring you something to drink?"

  "Bring us the Pomerol, please," Laszio said, glancing up at her. "You know the one. Thanks, Sophia."

  "I'll be right back"

  "Laszio, forgive me, but I must ask," Vanya began, "do you make a habit of asking women drinking alone to join you for dinner?"

  "How should I answer that?" he said, smiling his sexy smile. "The truth is, I was at the bar earlier and I saw you by yourself looking completely out of place and very sad. I genuinely don't like to see a woman upset. It's in my breeding."

  "Breeding?"

  "Bad choice of words," he said hastily. "It's inherent. Anyway, I'm responsible for the safety of my guests and I was concerned, but when I was about to walk over to you and ask if you were all right, I was called away. When I returned you were gone, then a few minutes later you were back. It was then I learned you were looking for a scarf you'd lost. I wanted to return it myself. Quite a long story for a short period of time."

  "It certainly is," she replied, smiling back at him. "So…basically, you're nosy!"

  "Only in a good way," he chuckled, "and now I really must ask, are you all right?"

  "Sort of," she said honestly. "It's no big deal."

  "From the look on your face earlier, I'm not sure that's true."

  "You're right," she admitted, "but there's nothing you can do."

  "Sometimes just talking about something can help."

  "I suppose," she said with a heavy sigh, "but I don't want to bore you."

  "I really am genuinely interested."

  "Okay. It's my landlord. He goes into my apartment when I'm not there and pokes around."

  "No big deal? That's a very big deal! Can't you change the locks?"

  "According to my lease, he must have a key, and if he believes there's a problem he can enter. I did go to the police, but they said unless he actually threatens me in front of witnesses, or physically hurts me, there's nothing they can do."

  "The laws, so many make no sense," he said solemnly. "What made you come into the club?"

  "When I got home I was putting my key in the lock and he opened the door. I almost had a heart attack, and then I did something I probably shouldn't have. I told him I'd been to the police, then suddenly I got really mad and I yelled at him. I told him he had to stop going in without contacting me. He said that he had every right to be in there, and if I left before my lease was up he'd sue me. Then he started laughing and literally pushed me out of the way as he walked out. I'm not generally afraid of things, but I'm not sleeping. Every noise makes me jump."

  "Your wine," Sophia said, approaching the table carrying a tray holding a decanter and two glasses.

  "Thank you, just leave it," Laszio said. "I'll let you know when we're ready to order."

  She nodded demurely and walked away, but Vanya had barely noticed the short exchange. The retelling of her story had made her stomach churn.

  "Vanya, give me your hand."

  His voice had cloaked her like warm velvet, and she felt no reservation about complying. As he wrapped his fingers around hers, she felt the warm tingle travel up her arm.

  "What is this man's name?" he asked softly.

  "Al Smith."

  "Does he live in your building?"

  "No, he lives in a big white house surrounded by a huge brick wall on Jamison Street, in Evergreen Heights."

  "That's an expensive neighborhood."

  "That's because he never fixes anything. This might sound crazy, but sometimes I sense things, and I have the strongest feeling he uses different names."

  "I don't think that's crazy. Sometimes I sense things too, and I have a feeling Mr. Smith won't bother you again."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "You confronted him and mentioned the police."

  "I doubt that will stop him."

  "Maybe we should have a bet."

  "What sort of bet?"

  "When we finish our meal, call him. Tell him you're changing the locks, and he's not getting a key. If he agrees, you'll let me take you to dinner. Any restaurant you choose."

  "And if he doesn't agree?"

  "I'll choose."

  As she laughed out loud and stared into his sparkling caramel eyes, she could think of nothing she wanted more than to see him again.

  "It's a bet!"

  "Good. Now enjoy this very fine wine and look at the menu," he suggested, pouring it into her glass. "I need to step away for a moment."

  Picking up her glass, as she sipped the rich Pomerol and watched him move across the room, she had an overwhelming feeling that her life had just taken a dramatic turn.

  "But where is it taking me?" she murmured. "Wherever I'm going, I hope you come along for the ride, Mr. Grigore."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Al Smith was one of several names used by Alan Reynolds. The aliases were handy when dealing with tenants. Over the years a few had tracked him down to his big house in the exclusive neighborhood, but his tall brick fence, visible security cameras and private patrols, had kept unwelcome visitors at bay.

  Complaining of a headache his wife had gone to bed, leaving him alone to slink into his den, lock the door, and watch one of his porn movies. He'd just settled into his favorite chair when he thought he heard a sound. Retrieving the gun he kept in his desk, he moved cautiously into the hall.

  He heard
it again. It was coming from the formal living room at the front of the house. For a moment he thought about calling the police or his security company, but feeling a strange need to check it out himself, he raised his firearm and moved cautiously forward. As he reached the entrance to the living room, he paused, took a breath, and heart racing, he peered around the wall.

  A well-dressed young man was sitting on his couch.

  "Please, join me," the stranger said, looking across at him. "My name is Elwyn. We need to have a chat, but first you must put down that weapon in your hand."

  Though he didn't want to, Alan couldn't resist the order, and placing his gun on the floor, he walked unsteadily into the living room and settled into the easy chair across from the uninvited visitor.

  "Listen carefully, Alan," the stranger said firmly. "You will do as I say, or be filled with dismay. Repeat that please."

  "I will do as you say, or be filled with dismay."

  "Good. Very slowly, lean forward and look at me."

  Confounded by his inability to ignore the instruction, Alan tipped his body forward, and a moment later, to his utter disbelief, the young man's features began to change. Filled with fright, frozen in his chair and barely able to breathe, Alan watched the attractive face transform into a grotesque gargoyle. He wanted to run screaming from the room, he wanted to race back to his gun, he wanted to fall on his knees and pray, but he could do none of those things. He could neither speak, nor move.

  "You are a horrible little man," the ugly ogre snarled, spittle dribbling from his mouth. "Continue with your nasty ways and I'll haunt your dreams at night, and dog your steps during the day. You will lose all your money, your wife will leave you, and you will find yourself infected with genital diseases. Tell me you don't want that to happen. You have permission to speak."

  "I d-don't. No. I d-don't want that to happen."

  "Ask me to help you."

  "P-Please help m-me."

  "You have a tenant, Vanya Delaney. You will treat her with great respect. You will never enter her apartment. Not ever. You will make sure any repairs are done quickly, and you will spare no expense. To apologize for giving her so much grief, you will reduce her rent fifty-percent. You will do as I say, or be filled with dismay. Repeat it, please."

  "I will do as you say, or be filled with dismay."

  "You will treat your wife and family with kindness and love. You will treat all your tenants with respect and consideration. You will do as I say, or be filled with dismay. Repeat it, please."

  "I will do as you say, or be filled with dismay."

  "I'm going to leave now. You will stay where you are and count slowly to sixty. Then you will be filled with great shame at the things you have done, and you will immediately begin to set things right. You will do as I say, or be filled with dismay. Repeat it, please."

  "I will do as you say, or be filled with dismay."

  "I pray to thee, let it be. Goodnight, Mr. Reynolds."

  Alan stared, completely transfixed, as the monster transformed back to the attractive young visitor, and moved silently from the room. He heard the front door open and close, and finding it impossible to move from the chair, he began to count.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The dinner had come to an end, and in spite of repeated attempts, Laszio had been unable to enter Vanya's energy. It made no sense! She was human! One-hundred-percent human! He'd been able to read her mood changes, but when he'd taken her hand and attempted to make her speak, he'd hit a wall.

  She was a mystery.

  A beautiful engaging mystery who had turned his eyes hazel.

  He knew it could mean she was his soulmate, but she was human! How could she be? The ban on having intercourse with humans was absolute. If he crossed that line it would break the fragile peace between his coven, and the demonic warlocks who followed the dark side. He needed guidance. When their dinner was over, and he'd checked on Anton, he'd enter his private sanctuary and consult The Book Of Spells and Secrets.

  "I'll have someone escort you home," he said warmly. "I wish I could do it myself, but I can't leave the club right now."

  "I'll be fine, really. It's not far."

  "Please, Vanya, allow me to afford you this protection. If you don't, I'll worry. I won't be able to focus on my business if I'm worried."

  "You are a very persuasive person," she said with a grateful grin. "How can I say no?"

  "Excellent. Thank you, but before you leave you need to call your landlord."

  "Now? But it's late."

  "Exactly. It will catch him off-balance."

  "What should I say?"

  "Because of the incident today you're going to file a restraining order."

  "That's brilliant, but Laszio, I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared. Are you sure I should do this? What if it makes things worse? What if he gets mad and comes into my place in the middle of the night?"

  "He's a bully. Bullies will bully as long as their victims cower. Stand up to him. If he gives you any trouble, I'll be happy to pay him a visit."

  "Maybe you should," she quipped, knowing he'd have muscled arms to match his muscled chest.

  "I'd be happy to. What about tomorrow morning? Do you think he'll be around?"

  "I was joking! Okay, here goes nothing. I wish my heart would stop pounding."

  "That's your adrenalin. It's natural," he said reassuringly as she pulled out her phone. "I feel that way too sometimes."

  "You do?"

  "We all do. Take a deep breath, let it out, mentally prepare, then make the call."

  She did as he suggested. It helped, and determined to stand up for herself she placed the call.

  "Mr. Smith, it's Vanya De—"

  "I know who it is."

  "Don't apologize for calling late," Laszio whispered hastily. "Just start talking."

  "I'm calling because—"

  "Let me stop you right there," Al said, cutting her off again. "I'm glad to hear from you. I realize my behavior has been completely out-of-line and I'm sorry. To show you I'm sincere, I'm reducing your rent fifty-percent for the remainder of your lease. Please have a locksmith come and change your locks. I'll pay for it, and you don't need to give me the key until you leave, though I hope you'll stay. Make a list of all the repairs that need doing and leave it taped on your door. I'll make arrangements, and you can meet the workers yourself."

  Vanya was too stunned to speak, and with wide surprised eyes she stared across at Laszio.

  "Please accept my apologies. Everything will be different from now on."

  "Thank you," she managed, trying to sound self-assured.

  "Goodnight, Miss Delaney."

  "I can't believe it," she muttered, ending the call. "I absolutely cannot believe it."

  "What did he say?"

  "He apologized. He said I can change my locks and I don't have to give him a key, and get this! He'll pay for it!"

  "That's fabulous. You see? Bullies don't bully if you stand up to them. They're cowards."

  "But that's not all. He's reducing my rent fifty-percent through the end of my lease, and he's going to get all the repairs done. I don't believe it. I just don't believe it," then pausing, she dropped her voice and added, "I hope it's not some manipulative trick."

  "Why would he take the time to go through all that as some kind of trick? No, you mentioned the police and it scared him. Now you'll be able to go home and get a good night's sleep."

  "He knows I work for a crime reporter. I wonder if he thought I actually do know people on the force."

  "Possibly, but Vanya, you work for a crime reporter? That sounds exciting."

  "It has its moments, and I love Lenny, my boss."

  "What's that saying? If you love your job you don't work for a living."

  "Laszio, I have to tell you, this has been an amazing evening. I've had a wonderful time. I wish I didn't have to leave, but talking about my job reminded me I have to meet Lenny first thing in the morning."

  Look
ing across at her, confounded by his inability to penetrate her energy, he decided to take a quiet moment and ask the light. Picking up his glass and swirling the wine, he focused on the tiny red eddy and set his mind free.

  This human blocks me, I know not why. Please offer an answer, so again I may try.

  Lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip, he closed his eyes as if savoring the flavor.

  It hit him.

  The scarf.

  It was charmed. It was her protection.

  "This really is delicious," Vanya remarked, taking a last swallow of wine herself. "Everything was. You have an amazing chef."

  "Vanya, before you leave, may I see your scarf."

  "Sure," she said, unzipping her bag and removing it. "Isn't it beautiful?"

  "It is," he said, taking it from her. "You said it's a family heirloom?"

  "Yes, passed on from eldest daughter to eldest daughter. I hope I'll be able to continue the tradition, though I'm not too worried about that."

  "You're not?"

  "I should be I suppose, but my mother says my first born will be a girl, as if it's a given. I think it's just a family legend, though it seems to be true."

  "You have a family legend?"

  "It's silly."

  "Would you mind sharing it with me?"

  Holding the silky fabric, he'd been experiencing the same pulsing energy he'd felt when he'd inhaled her scent. It was unusual for material to hold power. Talismans were metal or stone, but there was a fine gold thread woven through it. Perhaps that was the conductor.

  "It's a bit weird. Do you believe in the supernatural?" she asked tentatively. "Things like, vampires and warlocks."

  "Doesn't everyone," he replied, unable to suppress a wide grin.

  "Now that you mention it, there are millions of books about this stuff, and movies and TV shows. I suppose you're right."

  "Perhaps there's a part of us that knows the supernatural is not just fantastical myths and tall-tales."