The Wicked Witch with Versace Wisdom

Chapter 3

A witch, a vampire and a werewolf walked into a room. It was the perfect set up for a joke. Unfortunately, based on the presence of Lord Barthelemy Dupont senior, nobody would be laughing today. The man had the face for radio and the charisma of a boiled potato. Sitting in a massive chamber, surrounded by wealth, well endorsed guards, and the dim light from a chandelier only enhanced his lacklustre appearance. I glanced around. Werewolves tended to be old fashioned. The comfort and predictability of pack life created a distain for change in any form. Still, was there a good reason for the guards to carry literal swords? How did they expect to wield that weapon as a wolf? In their mouths? I had more questions, but Dragana did not share my interest in the art of canine-fencing. She bowed down.

"We apologize for being late, lord Dupont. It will not happen again", my ex-lover said. She was always so mindful of the diplomatic stuff. It was a character flaw neither I nor his lordship possessed since the latter hadn't even offered us a drink.

"I'll hold you to that, miss Jovanovic. The house of Dupont has a good repertoire with the Cuyahoga council. It would be a shame if that was tarnished during your visit." Ooh, the potato pooch had some nerve. Tension filled the air as Dragana turned perfectly still. Like a gorgeous stone gargoyle.

When dealing with the undead there were two rules to at least concider if you fancied life. Cover your neck and remember the importance of reputation. Unlike werewolves and witches, who lived twice as long as the average human, vampires were immortal. And fucking hard to kill. Sunlight, crosses, and garlic did nothing. Wooden stakes only worked if you aimed to become a walking Capri Sun. No, if you wanted to hurt a vampire you needed to go straight for the pride. I might have underestimated lord Dupont. Claiming that Dragana would bring down the reputation of her entire council, one sentence into the conversation, was impressive. Rude and stupid, but impressive.

"Two million dollars and I'll curse him with the plague", I whispered to the pissed of vampire. "Tree millions and all his grandchildren will come out super ugly." If she wasn't my ex and a plant murdered, I'd do it for free. Based on genes that last suggestion wouldn't need much magical intervention anyways.

"Quiet." Dragana squared her shoulders. Her response was given through gritted teeth. "Message received, lord Dupont. Shall we continue with the matter at hand?"

"Yes, the missing pup. Let's talk about that." I ran over to a large table in the middle of the room, hopped up and crossed my ankles. Then I placed the Chanel bag gracefully on my lap. Like a lady. "Does he have a chip we could track?" One of the guards closest to the lord growled.

"How dare you, rogue? You will treat the honourable family..." I threw the first thing I could find at his head. Which happened to be a cotton sanitary pad and not my expensive makeup.

"Sorry, it slipped. Anyways, when was he last seen?" I asked. The sound of cracking bones followed as a handful of the men began to shift. Lord Dupont allowed their animal selves to spring forward but stopped them from attacking. The dark wolves ended up prowling, snarling, and huffing at me from a few feet away.

"I thought my sister exaggerated when she told me about you, miss Blyth", lord Barthelemy said with a grimace. "However, despite your lack of proper etiquette, you've made a point. Sit down. I will tell you the facts and then you shall find my son before the betrothal announcement."

"I'm already sitting", I pointed out helpfully. Dragana, who had managed to compose herself, dragged me into a chair before placing herself between me and his lordship.

An hour later and I knew nothing of importance. The only thing becoming painfully clear was Lord Barthelemy's parental style. Or lack thereof. Instead of naming the friends and enemies of his son I got a lecture about duties and report cards. By the time he was done speaking I wanted to impale myself on one of the guard's swords like a kebab. No wonder this kid ran away. Allegedly.

"I need to see his room." I had repeated the same thing throughout the meeting without any luck. Despite hiring me, the man found my prolonged presence inside his home as unnecessary at best and abhorrent at worst. It was insulting. "Come on. To activate my gift, I need to get a feeling for the kid. His vibe and soul and essence. I won't touch anything." Unless it was made of gold or had a designer label. Lord Barthelemy senior finally relented.

"Fine, if you must", he said. That was the true beauty of having a rare talent. Nobody knew when you were bullshitting them. Dragana and I was escorted to a separate wing of the mansion by some guards. Lord Dupont had agreed that they would leave us alone in the room only after giving another speech. It was a bunch of veiled threats and self-importance disguised with words like cooperation, discretion, and accommodation. Closing the door to junior's room was like finding water in a dessert. I groaned and fell onto the bed. Dragana crossed her arms.

"The vibe and soul and essence? What are you, a carnival fairy?"

"Bug off, bride of a bat. If you want to go downstairs and listen to the important guidelines when barking at the mailman, be my guest. I'll be here actually finding something useful." I turned around in silk sheets, staring up towards the high ceiling. The teenager's room, like the rest of the estate, was one glass display away from being a museum. Crazily enough it probably bothered the youngster. Privilege always seemed more fun to people who didn't inherit it. I grasped a piece of paper hidden behind the pillows. The painting was of a girl at the edge of a forest. The part of her face not covered in black hair and rough pencil strokes was delicate. Pretty.  "He's an artist."

"He is a lord. A small one, but still", Dragana corrected. The blond vampire walked back and forth across the room. She never touched anything. Werewolves had a good sense of smell and often claimed that vampires left behind an odor of rotten flowers. It started an actual war once upon a time.

"A lord with secrets. There is something under the floorboards right there. You should get it." I pointed to the spot under her gorgeous Jimmy Choo pumps. Say what you want about Dragana Jovanovic-I certainly did-but the bloodsucker had adequate fashion sense. She bent down and cleared the carpet out of the way.

"Why can't you do this?" she asked. I waved my new and beautiful piece of jewellery in her face.

"Because this watch cost a fortune and you need to earn your keep." I also had a healthy dislike for things that crawled. Like spiders and other disgusting things with too many legs. However, I would rather be waterboarded and forced to wear polyester before admitting that to my former lover and current work associate. "Hurry up now."