Brewed for Trouble (Witches of CSI Paranormal Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  Lana left soon after, and it was the first time I found myself alone since I regained consciousness. Get-well-soon gifts were scattered all around the room – an oversized bouquet of flowers from the staff at Panda’s by the window, a box of organic sweets from Tristan and Maria on top of the mini-fridge, and even Demi had one of her assistants hand-deliver a lovely basket of pastries earlier in the evening.

  Seeing all of it made things feel so surreal, and the memories of my conversation with Lana and the others made it even more so. Had I really been so close to losing my life?

  At around nine in the evening, a nurse came by to take my dinner tray away, and she clucked her tongue disapprovingly when she saw that I had barely touched my food. An hour after, and just when my eyelids started to droop, I heard a knock on the door.

  Probably another nurse, I thought, meaning to check my meds.

  But it wasn’t.

  My breath caught when I saw tall, gorgeous man with thick blond hair and hazel eyes striding towards me with lithe, effortless grace, and as he came closer and closer, my heart kept racing faster and faster.

  Once upon a time, this man had been a stranger to me, someone I had secretly called Mr. Handsome in my mind. Later on, when I had gotten to know him a little better, I had been stunned and intimidated to find out that he was an agent working for INTERPOL, the most elite of all non-human agencies.

  That had been bad enough, but now that I knew he also happened to be a real, honest-to-goodness Olympian god?

  Countless words raced in my mind, but none of them seemed right. While I had never lost my shyness around him, I had always been able to act somewhat naturally in his presence.

  But now…

  I clumsily pushed myself up to a sitting position while watching him cross the room. My foolishly bewitched heart skipped a beat when he took the seat Lana had vacated, and his proximity had me biting my lip in mute apprehension.

  For one long moment, his hazel gaze held mine with such unreadable intensity all I could do was hold my breath and wait and wait and wait –

  And then finally, Paul – no, Apollo – said, “I’ve got to say, Agent Vavrin – there’s no one quite as skilled as you at making me worry.”

  The words were spoken lightly, but it was the tightly wound expression on his handsome face that made my defenses crumble into nothing.

  There was time enough for explanation later, but right now, just now the truth finally struck home.

  I had almost died.

  Oh, River of Lethe, but I had almost died, and what was important (such as the look in his hazel eyes) and what wasn’t important (such as the reason why he had to lie to me about being Apollo) suddenly became unquestionably clear.

  Swallowing hard, I tried but failed to keep my voice from shaking. “P-Paul?”

  He was with me in a flash – or maybe it was a second, a nanosecond, he was just there all of a sudden, reaching me faster than any human was capable of being, faster in a way that only immortal gods could be. And when his powerful arms closed about me, it was like coming home, and I knew it was also something only this man could make me feel.

  Thirty minutes later, and we were still in my hospital bed, Paul’s back against the pillows while I was curled on his lap, head nestled against his hard chest, and feeling cherished in the warmth of his gently possessive embrace.

  It felt good, too good, really, I was tempted to simply bury my head in the sand and pretend everything was fine. But when I felt Paul’s strong chest vibrate with a heavy sigh, I knew the time to face reality had come.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumbled.

  “I know.” His lips brushed the top of my head. “But we have no choice.”

  And he was right, of course, which was why I could only swallow back my protest when Paul pulled away. After rearranging the pillows behind my back, he took the seat Lana occupied earlier and twined his fingers with mine.

  “You can ask me anything, and I promise I’ll answer all of them.”

  “I don’t even know where – how – to start.” My shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug, and I confessed awkwardly, “I don’t even know what to call you now.”

  “I’m still the same Paul you knew, Blair.”

  But was he, really? In the end, all I could do was paste a smile on his lips, knowing that this was a question only time could answer. “Is it alright if I still call you Paul then?”

  “Anything but my real name is fine,” was the astonishing answer, and when he saw me blink, Paul explained, “People tend to be on their guard when they know of my real identity.”

  “Because you’re the god of truth?” At his nod, I couldn’t help asking, “How does it even work? You and the truth, I mean?” Because last time I checked, he hadn’t exactly been truthful about his identity –

  “I didn’t lie about not being Apollo.”

  How pathetic was it that I wasn’t even surprised he knew exactly what I was thinking of? At this rate, wearing a paper bag over my head might be the only way to keep my thoughts to myself.

  “I only avoided speaking the truth to you.” When I shot him a look of exasperation, Paul simply responded with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “I may be a god, but I am not The God. I wasn’t the one who made the rules.”

  “And what are the rules exactly?”

  “It’s best to think of my abilities as a double-edged sword,” Paul advised. “While I can avoid speaking the truth, uttering a direct lie has a backlash, like having my soul whipped. It hurts like hell and gradually drains me of my power.”

  “And what about people who lie to you?”

  “I can use my abilities to know when a person speaks of falsehoods, but it consumes power, too, which is why I only use it as a last resort.”

  And so it was exactly what he said, I concluded pensively. His powers were like a double-edged sword, which – to a tiny extent – made him as fallible as the rest of us.

  Lifting my gaze to his, I asked reluctantly, “And me? Did you ever plan to tell me the truth about yourself?”

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.” Paul saw me jerk in shock at the bluntness of his reply, and his lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you remember your orientation week at work?” At my nod, he added simply, “I was there.”

  “What?” My mind pulled up memories of orientation week, and I winced as every embarrassing second of it came flooding back. Brooms and sticks, but I had been so excited at finally being a witch back then I had pestered my instructors endlessly for additional lessons and demonstrations.

  Glancing back at him, I pleaded, “Please tell me you’re lying. Please?”

  But Paul only flashed a brief grin. “I found your passion refreshingly cute, so when I learned you were being assigned to Silver Mist, I started hanging out at Panda’s in hopes of seeing you again.”

  My jaw fell open at his admission. “But you never talked to me!” In fact, in the two months I had been silently crushing on him, he had rarely glanced my way, much less smiled to let me know he was at least aware I was alive.

  I started to ask him why that was exactly, but then I saw the look in Paul’s eyes –

  Oh.

  “You didn’t think it was going to work between us,” I realized.

  “No.” Paul’s voice was quiet. “I didn't. Then.”

  And my heart, foolish as it was, leapt at the tiny ray of hope that last word of his offered, which caused me to ask in a stammer, “W-What do you mean then?”

  “Everything’s different now.”

  My throat tightened. “Is it?”

  “I’m not an easy man to be with, Blair,” Paul said flatly. “It’s why I’ve tried my hardest to stay away from you. And when you found out who I was, and I saw how much my deception hurt you, I thought it was the Fates’ way of giving me another chance to put things right. I forced myself to let you go, hoping and dreading that the time would come you’ll find a man who truly deserves you and would
not bring trouble and danger to your life.”

  His chest heaved in a sigh. “But then Dike called and---” Roughness entered his voice. “I had never truly known what fear meant until you came into my life.” Paul lifted my hand to press his lips against my knuckles, and the kiss, tender and unexpected, knocked the wind out of me.

  “I lose my head every time I find out you’re in danger,” Paul admitted in a harsh undertone. “And when Dike told me how you almost died today---”

  The despair that suddenly darkened his gaze made me want to cry. “Paul---”

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?” he grated out.

  I knew what he wanted to hear, knew what I wanted to say, but I was so terrified that no words would come out.

  “I need you in my life, Blair.”

  Oh…my…Gaea.

  Tears pricked my eyes at his words, and when he let go of my hand to cup my face, I could only close my eyes –

  His mouth covered mine in the next second, and my lips parted under his in surrender. It was everything a first kiss should be, and from that moment on, I knew there would be no turning back.

  I needed him in my life, too.

  Chapter Five

  Thursday had me back on my feet and rejoining the work force despite Aesculapius’ standing orders about resting for another day. Paul also promptly showed up at seven to drive me to work, looking like his usual tall, blond, lethally handsome self.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “M-morning.” I tried but failed not to stammer while my toes involuntarily curled at the endearment. He had taken to calling me that since the night he visited me at the hospital and I had found myself dazedly agreeing to become his girlfriend.

  His warm gaze swept swiftly over my appearance: today’s outfit was a bright yellow pantsuit that fell just a few inches below my knees and patent leather shoes adorned with cute metallic ribbons. I might not have a celebrity’s budget for wardrobe, but my inner fashionista enabled me to still have fun with clothes, and Paul’s smile of approval made me giddy and shy all at the same time.

  “You look beautiful, Agent Vavrin.”

  I fought against blushing. “You always say that.”

  “Because it’s how you always look to me.” Paul flashed a crooked grin. “Before we start arguing, know that I say the words as the god of truth.”

  And with that, my battle against the blush came to an abrupt end, and the sound of Paul’s chuckle had my face turning even hotter. “Unfair,” I accused him.

  “Only because I like teasing you,” he admitted without an ounce of shame.

  “Paul!” But a smile had started tugging the corner of my lips despite my indignation, and when I heard Paul call out to my curtain-peeking neighbor as he helped me inside his car –

  “Have a nice day, Mrs. Murray.”

  I completely lost it, a bubble of laughter escaping me when we heard a barely audible gasp coming from the other house just as my neighbor hurriedly hid herself from view.

  We stopped at Panda’s to grab breakfast before work, and Pan’s face lit up the moment he saw us walking in, with Paul’s hand resting oh-so-naturally on the small of my back.

  Well, okay, it might feel natural for the truth god, but the heat of his touch had my knees turning into jelly, and I had a nasty feeling it would always be like this between us.

  That’s not good, Blair Vavrin, I thought gloomily. What kind of relationship would this be if just one look from Paul was enough to make me melt into a humiliating pile of goo?

  “Good morning, lovebirds.” The ancient satyr’s booming voice had everyone in the diner turning towards us, and I could feel heat instantly crawling back to my face as Paul and I slid into a pair of stools by the counter.

  Discretion, thy name is definitely not Pan, and with the satyr audaciously wagging his bushy eyebrows at me like Paul was some kind of trophy I had won, I had the childish urge to whisk off his chef’s hat and hide myself in it.

  “Has Blair the Witch finally nabbed herself a prince?” Pan joked.

  Oh, for Cronos’ sake!

  “Mr. P!” I glowered at him, and if I hadn’t known his apron was actually his magical armor in disguise, I would’ve been tempted to try stabbing his big belly with a fork. It wouldn’t kill him – he was as immortal as ancient deities went – but at least I’d have the satisfaction of hurting him just a little.

  “I’m no prince by any standards,” Paul said, “but this lady is definitely mine.”

  “Oh my Gaea!” Nix – one of Panda’s regular waitresses – had just come up to hand us menus, and her stunned gaze immediately swung towards me at Paul’s words. “Is it true?” she asked excitedly. “Have you two started going out?”

  I barely managed a nod before the crimson-haired girl let out a whooping cry of joy and leaned over the counter to give me a hug. “I knew you’d get him sooner or later!”

  If Paul hadn’t been aware of how hard I had been crushing on him the past two months, he definitely knew it now. And with that, I thought morosely, my life was completely over.

  As soon as Mr. P bustled off and Nix went away to get our orders ready, Paul turned my stool around so he could have me facing him. “What’s with the sad face?” he asked with a grin.

  “Like you don’t really know,” I grumbled.

  “I rather think it’s cute,” Paul said teasingly. “You mooning over me---”

  “I was not!”

  “While I was suffering in self-inflicted torture at the same time, telling myself it’s best if I stayed away from you.”

  Oh.

  Right.

  He had told me it had been the same for him all this time, hadn’t he? Ever since my orientation week in fact, and I hadn’t even known him then.

  “I know you literally can’t lie about that,” I admitted, “ but I still…it feels…I just have a hard time wrapping my head around it, you know?”

  “Only because you think too little of yourself – and that’s what worries me the most.” Paul’s voice turned serious. “I know how much your work means to you, and I’ll never be foolish enough to stop you from doing what you love, but it would be impossible for me to stop worrying either.”

  When Paul paused, I could only sigh, for once having no problem interpreting his silence. “This is about the babysitter thing again, isn’t it?” Paul wanted my agreement to have bodyguards follow me around wherever I went, and I just didn't feel right about it. “Can’t you see how ludicrous it would look?” I asked helplessly. “A CSI agent with her own private security?”

  “I don’t care how anything looks as long as it assures me of your safety.”

  “I need to think about this more,” I hedged.

  “Alright,” Paul relented reluctantly. “I know you’ve a lot on your plate with your current case, so we’ll shelve this issue for now. But once your case’s solved…”

  “I’ll have a decision ready by then, I promise.”

  Following a call from Silver Mist High’s principal, I asked Paul to drop me off at the town’s local high school after breakfast. “Thanks for the ride,” I said as soon as I was out of his car. “I’ll see you later, I guess?” I turned around to leave, but long hard fingers had already encircled my wrist to tug me back before I could take another step.

  Oh, cast it.

  Before I realized what the truth god was up to, it was already happening, with Paul’s lips already covering mine in a quick, soft kiss.

  Oh my Gaea.

  My heart raced, and when he pulled away, it raced even faster at the warm look in his hazel eyes. “That’s how we say goodbye from now on, sweetheart.”

  “Umm---”

  Bending his head down, Paul whispered wickedly into my ear, “Either you agree or I do something worse.”

  I jumped back at the threat, but knowing that he of all people could never bluff, I said hastily, “You have my word.”

  “Good girl.” Paul brushed his knuckles against my cheek b
efore getting back in his car, and I was tempted to pinch myself while watching him drive away.

  What in the world was I thinking? How could a neophyte, self-made witch like me date an impossibly handsome immortal god like Paul?

  The urge to succumb to hysterics stirred inside of me, but I firmly stomped on it. One day at a time, I reminded myself. It was what I had promised myself the night I agreed to be Paul’s girlfriend. There was time enough later to think about the ramifications of dating a Greek god, but for now I had a murder to solve.

  After introducing myself to the principal, I had my wand do its usual verification process on 46-year-old Rica Renner, SMH’s principal. She turned out to be a natural-born witch, and this expedited matters a lot.

  “How will you introduce yourself to the students?” Rica asked.

  Good question, I thought with a grimace, realizing too late how ill prepared I was for all the changes that went with being transferred to Homicide.

  Back when I was still working at Misdemeanors, we were simply taught to introduce ourselves according to our (fake) day job titles if we were tasked to interview any humans without knowledge of our world.

  In my part, it meant a lot of creative lying since I had to explain why a local heritage society’s field researcher like me needed to poke around in, say, a rock concert or a livestock auction. But now that murder was involved?

  Not wanting the principal to realize how much a rookie I was when it came to homicidal investigations, I quickly typed a question for She-Ra, my agency-issued, app-based virtual assistant, rather than asking it out loud.

  Hey, She-Ra. Can you pull out the information sheet about cloaks for homicidal investigations?

  Sure, Blair.

  A moment later, my phone displayed She-Ra’s results.

  CLOAK: LOCAL POLICE

  RANK: DEPUTY

  The principal took me to a small room adjacent to her office, and in less than five minutes, the first name on my list showed up. The hours flew by quickly, and by lunchtime I was nearly done conducting interviews with almost everyone on my list.