Dance Only For Me Page 4

  I am frequently informed the world has come far from the dark days in which I was born, but I have yet to be convinced.

  Jackie closed the book, feeling ill. Robin didn't name the man, but Jackie knew the bastard's name damn near as well as he knew his own. Jackie's father had put a bullet right between the bastard's eyes toward the end of the Civil War. His father hadn't ever talked about it much, simply said the man's house was something no one should ever have to see, let alone live through.

  Tucking the book away in the leather jacket Ken had given him that morning, Jackie locked the box back up and then set his own spells upon it before picking it up to take with him. He still had not a single clue as to what was going on or why it warranted a man's death, but the longer he stayed in the city, the twitchier he got. Some of that twitchiness, however, was leftover from the fallout with Roman. Maybe it was most of it, he didn't even know. The matter was over, except for the way he was packed up with nowhere to go, but he still felt restless about it all. Damn it. He'd really thought Roman was the one, even if they had never been as fiery as his folks. Jackie didn't need fiery; he just needed rock solid and Roman had seemed to be that in spades.

  He wasn't, though, and now Jackie was left floundering. If he was going to go racing off to solve a mystery, he should probably figure out where he was going to be living first so that wasn't at the back of his mind distracting him.

  Returning to the street, he briefly debated going back to the lot he typically used and decided he just didn't have the energy. Needing no spell circle to go home, he gathered his magic and loosed it, vanishing from the sidewalk and reappearing in his own backyard. Sighing, he trudged into the house and headed straight for his bedroom.

  He put the chest in the closet, then stripped out of his borrowed clothes and went to get a shower. He stayed there until the water ran cold. Drying off, he pulled on his favorite pair of worn out jeans and a faded blue t-shirt. He pulled on socks and then padded down the hall to the kitchen. Not having the drive for real cooking, he settled for chips and the remaining salsa he'd made a few days ago.

  Settling at the kitchen bar, all his furniture packed up, he tried to figure out what the hell to do. As nervous as he had been before about leaving his home to be closer to the man he loved, returning to it suddenly seemed too much like quitting. He might have sworn off romance, but he wasn't gonna crawl home and hide from the world, and if he stayed it felt like that was what he'd be doing. No, thank you, sir.

  First, he needed a damned hat. And a new duster. Then he needed to do what he'd tried to get done in the first place: find a place to live. After that he'd get to work figuring out why Robin was dead and all that remained of him was a chest full of memories.

  He went to grab the book, but then realized he'd left it in his jacket. Sighing at himself, he strode back to the bedroom and fetched it. The urge to start reading through it in earnest was strong, but Jackie set it aside and focused on getting through lunch. He needed to get stuff done, not lollygag about reading all day.

  Finishing his food, he cleaned up the remains, shrugged into an older jacket and put the little book inside an inner pocket, and finally headed out to get his errands out of the way.

  Dark was falling by the time he returned, the temperature low enough he could see his breath, but he had a good hat on his head again and had decided to splurge on two dusters rather than just the one because he didn't have a doubt he'd destroy another one before the month was out.

  Jackie hauled his purchases and dinner inside, then pulled out his phone and called his father. Though he expected it, he was still frustrated when no answer came. "Damn it, old man, what fool mess are you getting into over there?"

  Dropping the phone in disgust, he put the groceries away and then stood in the kitchen dithering. Well, hell. May as well get some more packing done and in the morning he could go house hunting again and hopefully find more success. He'd count it a win so long as there were no more murders.

  There was really nothing left to pack up except a few things in the kitchen and the bedroom. Making a face as he was forced to recall the reason he'd let the bedroom alone, Jackie made himself go down the hall and get to work.

  He hadn't been working twenty minutes when he started coming across stuff that wasn't his: a couple of ties Roman had left, a blazer that was definitely too big and too fancy to belong to Jackie, a tie pin Jackie had given him—seeing it again twisted his gut and ruined any interest he'd had in dinner.

  Stupid bastard. Jackie’s fingers wrapped around the tie pin so tightly his knuckles went white and he could feel the edges of it biting his skin. What had he done that Roman hadn't wanted him in the end, but hadn’t cared enough to end it? What was so wrong with him that he'd been cheated on not once, but three times? And how stupid was he that he never recognized the damn signs?

  Refusing to think any more about it, he threw the pin in the pile with the rest of Roman's belongings and resumed packing, stopping only when the job was done.

  When there was finally nothing left of his room except a pile of blankets and the valuables he preferred to keep with him, Jackie felt grimy and tuckered. He dragged himself into the bathroom for another shower, hastily dried off, and face-planted on the pile of blankets. It was only after he got comfortable that he realized he hadn't locked the house up tight for the night.

  Groaning and grumbling in annoyance, he dragged himself up and took care of the house, killed all the lights, and finally crawled back into bed. Sleep came easily, thankfully, and he dreaded the night when it finally didn't and he had to learn all over again what it was like to sleep alone.

  When he woke, it was to his phone alarm yelling at him. He shut it up after a few fumbling attempts, then threw it across the room, pulled the blankets up, and went back to sleep. He woke the second time because he could no longer ignore a need to piss and the way his stomach was trying to eat itself. Heaving a sigh, Jackie stood and stretched before ambling his way to the bathroom. When he was done there he shuffled to the kitchen and used up his remaining eggs and cheese on an omelet.

  Sitting at the kitchen bar, he ate breakfast in a house that was far too quiet. Hopefully it wouldn't take long for the place to sell and he could be rid of it once and for all. Whenever he moseyed his way south again, he'd start entirely fresh.

  In the meantime, he needed to saddle up and find a place in the city that was going to be home until he figured out who had killed Robin and why. Robin had been murdered in his own home and the house burned down around him. He'd had no one left but a fool he'd just met. Pa would tan his hide if he didn't do something about it, and Mama woulda looked at him with that disappointed face if he'd even considered walking away.

  Finishing his omelet, he washed the dishes and then spent a couple of hours packing up the kitchen. When he was out of things to pack, only the last few things he still needed left out, he finally went to get dressed and head on out. Halfway to the back door he remembered Roman's things and trudged back to fetch them. He dreaded seeing the bastard again, but wasn't quite vindictive enough to throw his belongings away. Sure was tempting, though.

  At least he had a new hat. He settled it more firmly on his head as he appeared in the city, duster whipping as the wind caught it up. He started to head for a district of the city he'd been considering for housing when the club suddenly occurred to him. They'd seemed to know Robin well—had anyone told them he was dead?

  Turning sharply on his heel, pausing only to make certain he wasn't going to get himself lost again, Jackie headed in the direction he remembered Club Heaven being located. One wrong turn and thirty minutes later, he saw it. The sign wasn't lit up, but that time of day it wouldn't be. He pondered a moment before he decided up rapping on the front door.

  It swung open after a couple of minutes. "We're clos—oh, it's you again, cowboy," Candi said. "What's up?"

  "Ma'am," he said, tipping his hat. "I came to see if you'd heard about Robin."

  Grief wash
ed over her face. "Someone came by this morning to let us know. Sweet of you to think of us, though. Come on in, you look more asleep than awake and we've got plenty of coffee."

  Jackie smiled. "I'd be mighty grateful, but I don't want to put ya'll to any trouble."

  "No trouble at all, you've got more manners than nearly all our clientele combined," Candi said and ushered him inside. Locking the door, she led him through the club to where several other women and a handful of men were clustered around the bar drinking coffee and eating donuts from a box of two dozen or so on the counter.

  "Howdy," he greeted, taking off his hat and duster and setting them a barstool, putting the bag holding Roman's belongings beneath it. He smiled as Candi slid a cup of coffee to him. "Thanks."

  She smiled briefly. "So what brings you back to town, cowboy? You struck me as the passing through type."

  "I'm moving here, actually," Jackie replied. "Was supposed to be because my lover lives here, but now it's to solve a mystery. I aim to find the man who killed Robin."

  Candi blinked away tears. "He always looked out for us, ever since he moved here forever ago and Club Heaven was something else entirely. Blaze kept everyone in line, but Robin was always there, the only person who never left. It won't be the same without him. Do you know who did it? They said he was murdered, but didn't really tell us more than that. Poor Robin, he was always so tough, especially for his age."

  "I don't know who's responsible, but I aim to figure it out," Jackie replied, sliding onto an empty stool and humming in approval at the coffee. "If there's anything you know that you're inclined to tell, it'd be appreciated. I'm flying blind."

  A man a couple stools down from him set his own mug down and said, "Robin never really spoke much about himself. He was a mystery solver, though. If there was a puzzle, he'd put it together—whether he got paid in the end or not. There aren't a whole hell of a lot of people like that."

  Jackie shook his head. "That ain't true by half. It's a fact I've met a lot of trouble in my life, but there was never a shortage of good folk neither."

  "Robin was different. He's been around a long time, too, though I never knew exactly how old he was—talked about some old stuff when he was in the mood. Never talked about anybody who wanted him dead, though. His wife passed away about thirty years ago, I know that much. Think he had a daughter, too, but he never really said much about her, not even her name."

  "Interesting," Jackie said and finished his coffee. Before he could pout too long about its being gone, Candi refilled it, winking at him before she went off to refill other cups. "Right fine place here; you folks seem close. Family is always a nice thing to see."

  The man beside him smiled crookedly. "Yeah, it is. We come and go here at Heaven, but we never forget each other. Candi told us how you helped her out. I think maybe we've finally seen the last of that bastard, thanks to you. What kind of place are you looking for?"

  "Any place will do, really. I just need somewhere to fall over while I sort the whole mess out. Have something to recommend? The sooner I settle, the sooner I get to work."

  Gesturing with his head, seeming to indicate the ceiling, the man replied, "There's a set of rooms upstairs no one has used in forever. I'm sure living above the club isn't ideal, but this is Robin's neighborhood. Living here would keep you close to all the people who might have something to say. To be honest, it'd help the club, too. Life has been a lot rougher around here since Blaze moved away. The city in general has been better since Clan Mordred took over, but it's not the same here."

  "Can't hurt to take a gander," Jackie said and finished his coffee before standing up. He held out a hand. "Jackson Black. Call me Jackie."

  "Martin Geyer, most people just call me Marty. I'm co-owner, and I'm usually about on the weekends, during the week if I'm needed, which I'm usually not. This way. I'll show you the place." He led the way across the club to a door at the back, then down a short, dark hallway to a set of rickety stairs.

  The rooms were just as worn down as the rest of the club, but good at the core. There was a front room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a kitchen. Wasn't nothing fancy, but it'd get him by and it saved him a long, irritating day of looking at places. Wasn't like he'd be staying long, anyway. "I'll take it. What's the deposit and rent?"

  "No deposit, rent we can work out. I'll drop a good chunk of it if you're willing to help around here from time to time, keep the worst of the trouble out and the rest to a low boil. I've got the bouncers and the women can handle themselves, but a sorcerer is always a nice thing to have on your side, especially when living in dragon territory means we deal with an excess of violence."

  Jackie's fingers twitched with an urge to touch the brim of a hat he wasn't currently wearing; he forced himself to keep his hands relaxed at his sides. "I can do that; maybe ousting trouble will help keep me out of it otherwise—beyond looking for a murderer, anyway. You're mighty trusting of a stranger, hoss."

  "Robin trusted you and Candi has good instincts. My father was an alchemist."

  "Your mother? ‘Cause you ain't entirely human, I can tell that much."

  Marty laughed. "My mom was half elf."

  "Ah," Jackie said and relaxed a bit, since the only trouble to be found there was restlessness. "Well, you got yourself a bargain, Marty. Let's go work out the details."

  The details, in the end, didn't even take an hour. Jackie cut a check for the first three months' rent, had another cup of coffee, and then finally stood up to go deal with the only thing he'd been putting off harder than house hunting.

  He'd just slipped outside and settled his hat on his head when he noticed one of the women had followed him. She looked at least part dryad, given the pretty woodsy color of her skin and hair and the green of her eyes. She hovered in front of the door as it closed, hesitation plain upon her face. It was a look he'd seen any number of times on the faces of folk who needed help and had run out of places to ask for it. "What's wrong, honey?"

  "I asked around about you, after you helped Candi the other night. Is it true you help folks?"

  "Ayah, it is. What kind of help are ya needing?"

  She held something out and Jackie took it. A playing card—a nice one, not from a cheap deck that could be bought any old place. Good card stock, high quality printing. Ace of Spades. "Someone's been sending these to me."

  "What other cards have you received?"

  "Ace of clubs and diamonds," she replied.

  Well, that didn't make a lick of sense, not from a game sense at least. But there was definitely magic in the card, too slight for him to feel anything particular, but a nagging sense that something was wrong. "Do you have the others?"

  "In my purse."

  "Bring them to me," Jackie said.

  She nodded and bolted back into the club. A couple of minutes later she returned clutching a small black purse and fished the cards out. Part of the same set and holding all three he could definitely feel a spell—a curse, likely. "If you get anymore, don't touch them. Leave them where they are, or wear gloves if you have to pick them up—whatever it takes to avoid skin contact. I think these things are weaving a curse on you, bit by bit so as to go unnoticed 'til it's too late."

  "I see," she said, seeming to wilt. "I'll be careful."

  "You got any notion who might be doing this to you?"

  She looked sad as she replied, "My boy—my ex works in a casino in Brennus territory. The Tantalus, it's called. His name is Billy Wright. We didn't break up well. I guess no one ever does though, right? Anyway, he was pretty angry with me. This seems kind of…mean and a little convoluted for him, you know? But I don't know anyone else who would use playing cards like this to harass me."

  In Jackie's experience, it was likely to be anyone except the boyfriend when something so obviously connected to him was involved, but he withheld comment since he was long on supposition and short on facts. "Roxie, right?"

  "That's right."

  "Well, you take care now, Roxie
, and I'll be in touch. Don't worry about a thing, darling. No one is going to come to harm under my watch." He waited until she was back inside before he pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text—then deleted it and called because he wasn't going to be a coward and hide behind texting.

  Roman answered on the third ring. "Jackson?"

  At least the bastard had that much sense. "I have some things that belong to you, wanted to make sure I could drop them by."

  "Yeah, that's fine. Come on over."

  Jackie hung up without another word, then spelled himself to Roman's apartment. He wasn't really surprised that Roman was waiting for him in the entryway. He held out the plastic bag filled with the odds and ends he'd collected. "Here."

  "That's all you have to say?" Roman asked.

  The fact there was no sign of his broken nose just added to Jackie's barely contained ire. It didn't seem fair the bastard looked as beautiful and unaffected as ever, like nothing bothered him and never would. Jackie had always admired that cool calm, especially on those days he felt like he'd been run down in a stampede. "What do you want me to say? You made your feelings on the matter of us plain enough last night. Hell, you've probably been making it plain for longer and I just didn't want to see it. I wish you'd said something instead of stringing me along, but it don't make a damn bit of difference now."

  Frustration filled Roman's face. "You're so frustratingly all or nothing. Everything is good or bad to you."

  "That ain't true by half and you know it," Jackie said. "My pa was a lawman, but my grandpappy was a gunslinger and afore that he tore Europe up all to hell and back. My mama was a saloon girl and witch enough that once they woulda hanged her or burned her. Ain't never seen two people with so much gray between them. Life ain't as easy as black and white."