Chapter 26

~EVIE~

Ruben Dubois reeked of sophistication and swagger and sex. So did his bookstore, Ruben’s Rare Books & Brew. Yes, he also had a café at the front of his store, but it looked more like a sleek, vintage hotel lounge. There were overstuffed blue velvet love seats and silver-brocade chairs with artfully crafted, round-top tables tucked here and there. Jewel-tone Tiffany style lamps with soft warm lighting gave the lounge a sultry mood, which leaked into the rest of the place with its art deco vibe and softly playing Big Band music.

And it didn’t seem to attract the same hipster, Bohemian crowd as the other coffee shops along Magazine Street. Nope. The people who stretched out with their books, not laptops or other electronics, seemed to fit here. Even Beverly, the cashier/barista behind the counter, looked like she walked off a pin-up poster in her tight black pencil skirt and silky red blouse with a floppy bow hanging at her well-endowed and well-lifted bosom. Her firetruck-engine-red lipstick matched her blouse, accenting her pearly pale skin. Her blond hair was pinned up in a twist to complete the ensemble.

Beverly was definitely a vampire and was also apparently enthralled with vintage clothes like Ruben. Or she was just trying to keep her employer or lover happy. I wasn’t quite sure what her relationship was with Ruben because she always looked at him like she wanted to bite him. But how could anyone blame her?

As the man of the hour sauntered into the lounge area where we were seated, I remembered why he took my breath away every time I saw him. He was so…so…put-together. Handsome was too inadequate to fit him. Regal was too feminine. He was just so…Ruben. Dressed in tailored charcoal pants, white starched shirt with silver cufflinks, and a black vest with a gray stitched design, he looked like he just stepped out of the 1940s, except he forgot his hat, coat, and tie. Somehow, I was sure he’d have all those accessories and more for a nighttime event. Since this was a daytime coffee double date, no need to go all crazy and dress full formal, right?

Like all vampires, he was stunningly handsome. His sandy blond hair fell in a perfect wave across his brow. His blue-green eyes shifted in different lighting, dipping closer to dark green in the warm glow of his lounge.

Those ever-watchful eyes swept over me and Mateo, then landed on Jules and stayed there. Rather than look irritated that Jules hadn’t come alone for her “date,” he seemed completely amused, his pretty mouth sweeping up as he drew closer.

“Hello, Juliana.” He leaned down, took her hand, and swept a kiss over her knuckles.

Jules scowled, but I wasn’t sure if it was at the kiss or his use of her full name. She snatched her hand back and tucked both between her legs.

“I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought company, seeing as the book I need pertains to them.”

“Not at all.” His smile never slipped as he shook my hand with both of his. “Pleasure to see you again, Evie.” He turned and shook Mateo’s hand. “I’m Ruben Dubois.”

“Mateo Cruz.”

“I’ve stopped into your gallery a few times.”

“You have?” Mateo seemed shocked. Makes sense. Ruben was a powerful figure among supernaturals, even among human society. Surprising that Mateo never knew he’d visited his gallery without notice. Then again, he was a vampire, one powerful enough to use glamour to hide his comings and goings.

The only place for Ruben to sit in our circle was the chair opposite of Jules at the long mirrored coffee table. She had done it on purpose, to keep him at a distance. I tried not to laugh when he stepped over to a two-top with armless chairs, lifted one, and plopped it right next to Jules. Super close.

“You’re an exceptional artist,” continued Ruben, leaning an arm on the blue velvet arm of Jules’s chair, invading her space.

“Thank you. I had no idea you were a potential customer.” Mateo stretched his arm on the sofa back behind me. “I would’ve greeted you personally.”

“No need to go to the trouble for me.”

For a powerful vampire who ruled the largest population of his kind in the Deep South, he acted rather humble. Even in his dapper threads, he looked relaxed and friendly. Oh. Until I got a good look at the tiny design repeated in gray on his black vest—a constrictor snake seductively draped and wrapping the body of a naked woman, her throat arched back for him, her eyes closed in rapture. The design was repeated several times on the vest. There was no doubt that Ruben had his clothes custom-made.

“If you’re interested,” continued Mateo, “I’d be happy to give you a behind-the-scenes tour. Show you some pieces not in the gallery.”

“That would be much appreciated.” His gaze had been on Mateo as they had their little exchange, but then that penetrating gaze swiveled to Jules. “Would you care for some coffee?”

“Sure.” She was trying hard not to be rude, I could tell. After all, we needed a favor.

“Beverly.” He raised a hand. The bombshell glided from behind the counter and into the nook where we were.

“Yes, sire?”

Sire? I forgot the formality among vampires. Jules stiffened, suddenly interested in her fingernails.

“Is espresso good for everyone?”

“Fine,” said Mateo. I nodded. Jules pretended to be invisible. It was so strange. My sister was a powerhouse, a badass witch Enforcer and culinary chef extraordinaire who managed not only our witch business, but the Cauldron as well. She wasn’t shy. Ever. But right now, she looked like she was trying to sink right into her velvet cushion and become a part of the fine upholstery.

“Right away, sire.”

As Beverly glided away, swinging her curvy hips, Ruben turned back to Jules. “How have you been, Juliana?”

“Fine.” She avoided his heavy and attentive gaze. “How’s the blood-sucking business going?”

“Bloody as ever.” His voice dipped, rolling to a sexy lilt. “How are things in the kitchen? Still hot?”

“Enough to burn you to a pretty crisp.”

He grinned. “You think me pretty?”

She chuffed, rolling her eyes and staring at the ceiling.

“And the knives, Juliana? Still sharp?”

His sultry tone insinuated all kinds of things, but I had no idea what the hell this was all about.

“Very. I use a magic whetstone these days to make sure they hit their mark. All unwanted intruders.”

He smiled wider. “Good. Remind all the other suitors they better keep their distance.”

Suitors? Only Ruben would use archaic words like that. And why was he so interested in Jules’s dating life? Not that she had one.

She rolled her eyes. Again. The action became comical in its redundancy. “There are none, Ruben.”

“That’s because they’re all afraid of you. But I’m not.”

“No. You’ve made that quite clear. Besides, I have no time for any suitors.”

He just smiled serenely like they were talking about the weather, then turned to us. “Now, what is the book you’re looking for?”

Jules straightened, downgrading her tone from murderous to business professional. This was my sister’s comfort zone. “The Etymology and Definition of All Known Witch Sign by Marigold Lord.”

Ruben’s smooth forehead puckered into a frowning expression I’d never seen him make. Granted, I’d only been around him a handful of times when he’d come to the house or the Cauldron to speak business with Jules. But nothing seemed to ruffle the dude.

“I’d think that would be a well-used staple already in your library.” This was directed to Jules.

“It’s not a necessary tool. We don’t need witch sign for our magic.”

“Really?” Ruben leaned in, genuine interest in his expression. “Why not?”

Mateo leaned forward, too.

Jules glanced at me with a question. This wasn’t something we discussed outside the house or the company of other witches. It wasn’t a secret, really, just knowledge only witches needed to know. Or cared to know. I shrugged and nodded.

Jules angled in her chair to face Ruben, which actually put her farther away from him. Definitely on purpose. “Witch sign is used in casting spells outside a witch’s natural order of magic. Meaning, if a witch is conjuring magic that isn’t an innate gift of his or her own, they need to send the message to the magic with witch sign. It’s like…” She motioned with her hands in a circular way, her eyes sparkling as she always did when speaking of magic. “Like having a conversation.”

“You mean, speaking to magic,” clarified Mateo.

I turned my knees toward him. “Think of it this way. You don’t need any kind of help talking to your wolf, right?”

He scoffed. “I can hear the bastard loud and clear. Especially lately.”

Ruben looked like he wanted to interrupt, but he didn’t.

“Well, I don’t need any help talking to my magic. I can summon it at will. Same for Jules and all my sisters. But let’s say I wanted to do, oh, I don’t know, a love spell.”

“You can actually do those?” asked Ruben, his gaze swiveling to Jules. Her face burned pink.

“More like infatuation,” she clarified. “Love isn’t something magic can make happen. But surface feelings—lust and fascination. Yes.”

Mateo leaned close to me, teasingly. “Have you used this spell on me?”

I slapped his chest with the back of my hand. “Anyway, if we did want to use this spell, we’d have to use witch sign in a casting circle with all the other ingredients.”

“What other ingredients?” asked Ruben. “Animal sacrifice or something.”

Jules shivered. “Please. It’s not that primitive. A lock of hair or something of the owner. But that’s not the point. The thing is, spellcasting can be extraordinarily complex. The more complex, the more witch sign that’s used.”

“Hell,” said Mateo, leaning back against the sofa back. “Then the one cast on me is majorly complex.”