Yvette's Haven

Bess walked into a fairly spacious room, a living room of sorts. He followed her. Several pieces of mismatched furniture filled the space. Rugs were spread over the concrete floor, and heavy drapes of thick velvet hung over the windows. Add the bookcase filled with old books and jars of ghastly looking herbs and animal parts, and the room had a decidedly gothic look. Not his choice of abode anyway.

In his eight years as a bounty hunter, working for different bail bondsmen along the way, Haven had seen his fair share of weird, so nothing surprised him. But even without that, he wouldn’t have been surprised by her decorative choices. She was right; he was the son of a witch, and as such, he’d seen enough. More than he’d ever wanted to see—or know.

Haven shook off the memories. “Where’s Wesley?”

The witch took a seat on one of the overstuffed sofas and pointed toward an armchair. “Somewhere safe. Sit.”

“I’m not your dog.” Witch or not, he didn’t like being ordered around.

“I can turn you into one if you like.”

Grunting his disapproval, he let himself fall into the chair, creating a dust cloud around him. “I’m sitting.”

The witch let her gaze travel over his body. Uneasiness crept over him; he didn’t like being studied as if he was some piece in an exhibition. Or worse, a subject in an experiment.

“Your brother is nothing like you. He seems much more … gentle. Not as—”

“I’m sure you didn’t invite me for a psychology lesson; besides I don’t appreciate the kind of invitations you send out.” Why hadn’t he guessed that his brother hadn’t sent that message? Maybe because it had originated from Wesley’s cell and sounded just like him: desperate for help and riddled with mistakes. His brother couldn’t spell for shit; Haven hadn’t questioned its authenticity.

“Would you have come if I had sent a polite letter? Anyway, pleasantries aside, we have business to discuss.”

Haven raised an eyebrow. He had no business with a witch. Despite the fact that his mother had been a witch, neither he nor his brother had inherited any of her powers. It had never bothered him because the way he liked to kill his victims was close up so he saw the fear in their eyes when they realized he’d won; he had no desire to strike from a distance using magic. And his victims had always been vampires—not that he had any qualms about adding a witch to the bunch. Whoever threatened him or his family would be dealt with swiftly. In a deadly kind of way.

“What is it you want from me in exchange for my brother?”

“You catch on fast. Given your somewhat unorthodox profession, what I’m asking will be just another day in the office for you.”

He hated being played with, and the cat-and-mouse game in which she was engaging him was his least favorite pastime. “Spit it out.”

“There’s a girl, a young actress. I would like you to bring her to me.”

“Given that you managed to get me to your lair without any trouble, I don’t see why you can’t get her yourself.”

Bess pursed her lips. “Ah, that’s where the little problem starts. See, the girl has a bodyguard.” The witch gestured with her hand. “Something to do with the paparazzi.” She rolled her eyes, her disdain for celebrities openly showing in their cold blueness.

“And you can’t get past the bodyguard? You used your powers to immobilize me. What’s the guy made out of? Steel?” Something stank. And it wasn’t the incense that was burning in the room, robbing it of oxygen.

“Unfortunately, her bodyguard is a vampire.”

Haven listened up. Things had just started getting interesting. He leaned forward in his chair, intrigued by her words.

“I see I have your attention now. You could kill two birds with one stone: free your brother by bringing me the girl and kill the vampire as a bonus. It’s a win-win situation.”

Win-win, but for whom? “Are you trying to tell me that you can’t defeat one measly vampire?” Haven knew for a fact that witchcraft worked on vampires just as well as on humans. And by the looks of it, this witch appeared strong enough to fight a vampire with her spells and potions and the way she was seemingly able to control at least one element: air. He’d felt it used on his own body earlier. A witch who controlled the elements wasn’t to be trifled with.

“I could, if I got close enough. However, vampires can sense witches from afar. I’d never get close enough to work my magic. That’s why I need a human; you’ll be able to approach him without drawing any suspicions to you.”