Fire Dancer (Spellbound in Sedona #2)

Chapter Fourteen

PIPPA

By the next morning, Stacy still hadn’t called, and I was feeling more and more uneasy — about her, that creepy Deirdre who’d picked up the vials, the “consultants,” and the dead hiker.

Was Ingo right to be suspicious, or was there a perfectly good explanation for it all?

Tangential to that was my building anticipation about the glass contest, and how that related to my financial problems. I had high hopes, but you never knew how a project would turn out until you opened the annealer door.

So, I decided to start there. One step at a time, as Erin liked to say.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel throughout the drive to town and the hot shop. Once there, I hurried straight to the annealer. My heart was in my throat as I lifted out the decanter and held it to the light.

“Wow,” I couldn’t help murmuring.

Thin black lines crisscrossed the clear glass and curved gracefully over the surface. Small diamonds formed between the lines, each with a tiny air bubble in the center. I turned the decanter around, checking for imperfections but finding none.

“Wow,” I repeated.

It was good. Really good. Possibly my best work ever.

The glasses were just as good. Every last one.

Grinning in triumph, I grabbed my phone, intent on sharing the good news with Ingo, who’d helped me get them done in such a tight time frame.

But all I got was his out-of-office message. The usual, in other words.

My spirits sank.

I thought about calling Abby or Erin, just to be able to share my excitement. But they hadn’t sweated through this project with me. Ingo had. And while I loved making my sisters proud, nothing beat the feeling of Ingo’s pride.

I stared through the glass, not focused on anything in particular. Without Ingo, the world was a little duller, a little emptier. A vessel without anything to fill it, like the decanter I held.

I closed my eyes, replaying our kiss. Was I really ready to deny myself the one person who injected meaning into my life?

On the other hand, that out-of-office message summed things up well. With Ingo, I would always be waiting — or worse, worrying, as I had for my dad.

I thought through all the times I’d waited up for my dad, terrified he or one of his crew might not make it. All the soccer games, all the glass exhibits, all the holidays he’d missed. Was all that worth the trade-off for me and my future kids?

For the first time ever, I was starting to think…yes.

I looked at the phone, tempted to call Ingo again. Instead, I checked the contest specifications for the tenth time.

The winning contestant will submit four beautifully crafted glasses and a matching decanter. All must allow for proper aeration and visibility of the liquid inside.

My mind bounced back to the day Stacy had handed me that flyer. My boss is sponsoring a design contest. I thought you might want to enter.

That day, she’d been carefree and happy. Now, she was missing in action.

My eyes wandered to the northwest, in the direction of La Puebla.

Best view of Chimney Rock in Sedona, one of the “consultants” had quipped yesterday. The exact same words spoken in the same inside-joke way Stacy had once told it.

Stacy, whom I hadn’t heard from in several days now. Stacy, who’d been nervous about something. Stacy, whose boss was sponsoring the glass contest.

I hated unsolved mysteries. I craved clarity. And I was desperate to track down Stacy — for her own sake, and to disprove Ingo’s crazy suspicions so I could go back to seeing things positively. But I couldn’t.

Or could I?

I looked at the decanter, then the contest flyer. The address listed was a PO box, but what about La Puebla?

The gears in my mind turned in a way Ingo would not approve of. But, heck. The plan hatching there made sense. And I had been so eager to check on my glass project that I’d come to the hot shop two hours early. Plenty of time to pop out for a quick…er, errand, then pop back again. An errand that could give me peace of mind on two counts: Stacy, and my chance of winning that contest.

Ingo, I knew, would shoot down the idea immediately. But Ingo was paranoid and overprotective.

Also, he wasn’t around to talk some sense into me.

Before I could talk myself out of a perfectly good idea, I packed the decanter and glasses carefully, locked up the shop, and started driving.

Twenty-five minutes later, I blinked at the cameras at La Puebla’s security checkpoint. Two were aimed at my dusty orange Subaru, while a third was slowly pivoting over from a different angle. A big, burly security guy lumbered out of the guardhouse, chest thrust forward.

“Good morning,” he growled.

Talk about mixed messages.

“Good morning!” I chirped, going for dumb blonde instead of amateur sleuth .

He waited for more, then sighed. “Do you have an appointment?”

I nodded cheerily. “Yes. Well, no. Sort of.” I lifted the box on the front seat. “I’m here to deliver this rushed order.”

“Delivery?” He snorted.

The wind shifted, bringing me a whiff of his scent. It was musky. Woodsy. Bear-y, in other words.

I did my best not to flinch. The guy was a bear shifter, like Ingo’s suspects in the death at Gunnery Point.

I nodded. “Stacy said she needed it before Friday.”

I watched carefully, but I couldn’t catch a flicker of guilt light his expression. No denial when it came to Stacy being associated with the place either.

“Well, you can leave your delivery with me.”

I shook my head. “I’d love to, but I have to demonstrate it all. Can you just call Stacy over?”

He shook his head. “No can do, lady.”

Damn the man — a master of neither confirming nor denying anything I said.

The camera on my right whirred, and the zoom lens extended.

My skin crawled. Here I was, making myself a subject of interest. On the other hand, my cover story was pretty damn watertight.

A little like the Titanic .

I forced myself to give the camera a cheery wave.

“Here’s the thing,” I said loudly. “Stacy said the boss would like my design, and that he needed it ASAP.”

By then, my throat was dry. What if Stacy turned up now to deny that, and I got us both in trouble?

The guards weren’t buying it, but I must have succeeded in piquing someone’s curiosity, because a phone rang in the guardhouse. A second security guy answered it, frowned at me, and shrugged. After hanging up, he waved to the first guy.

“Let her through, Hal.”

The gates creaked ominously open, and I eased my car forward with an enthusiastic wave. “Thank you!”

From a distance, La Puebla was little more than a sand-colored lump in the landscape. Now, I found myself surrounded by a weird blend of squat “earthship” architecture and buildings inspired by Native American cliff dwellings. A row of garages was built into the hill on my right, but none of them lined up with each other or the utility buildings around them. Then came a series of boxy, interconnected buildings that looked a hell of a lot like guest rooms or even dorms.

I turned left, checking the view. Best view of Chimney Rock in Sedona was right.

My heart thumped.

Finally, I came to the main house, which was another Jenga puzzle with parts heaped up and sticking out from one another. Was it three stories tall? Four? Five? Every time I started counting, I lost track. A circular driveway with a single, gnarled juniper in the center looped in front of it, and I nearly did a second lap while taking it all in. Then I stopped under an arched breezeway by a huge glass entryway crowded with desert flora. The VIP entrance, no doubt.

I looked around nervously. Catering entrances were more my milieu. What the hell was I doing here?

Still, I’d made it this far, right?

I stepped out of my car, clutching the contest flyer and my box.

A woman appeared at the entrance, and for one terrifying moment, I thought it might be Deirdre, though I was confident in my cover story. But it wasn’t, and she stepped aside when a man appeared behind her.

“Not to worry,” he assured her. “I’ll get this one.”

Quiet as a mouse, she scurried away and disappeared back into the woodwork.

I pasted on a smile, though my heart pounded. Then I relaxed a little, because the man was the polar opposite of what I’d been expecting. No dark hair, no fangs, no widow’s peak. On the contrary, I was greeted by a slight, amiable man with ginger hair, a matching ginger beard, and green eyes that danced upon seeing me.

More Sean O’Grady than Victor Jananovich , if you asked me.

I inhaled deeply. I might not have inherited much of my parents’ supernatural powers, but I did have a knack for identifying shifters and vampires. The latter’s faint ammonia smell was usually a dead giveaway.

I hid an inner chuckle at my own joke. Dead giveaway.

Then I thought of Stacy and got real serious, real fast.

But, whew. All I got from this man was a pleasing whiff of cologne. Yves Saint Laurent, I’d bet — the pricey kind.

He approached with a disarming smile. Literally. If I’d been toting a gun — or a wooden stake — I would have stashed it away in embarrassment.

There was no way this was a criminal mastermind. On the contrary, his casual khakis and muted yellow polo suggested tech start-up billionaire. The guy was barely into his forties, and he was way too chipper to be a vampire. He didn’t offer his hand, but lots of people didn’t these days.

“Hello. I’m Victor. Welcome to La Puebla.”

His teeth were white and straight, nary a fang among them.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, more truthfully than I’d expected to. “I’m Pippa, from Sedona Glass, here to deliver your design.” I held up the contest flyer.

First, his expression was blank. Then recognition flickered in his eyes.

“Yes, of course. The contest.”

I bobbed my head like one of those toys people kept in the back of their cars. “Sorry to bother you, but Stacy encouraged me to show you my design.”

“Ah, yes. Stacy.” A robot couldn’t have hit a more neutral tone.

I nodded, keeping up the dumb blonde act. “She was sure you’d love it, so she said to bring it around in person as soon as it was done.”

His eyebrows lifted a little, but I’m proud — er, ashamed — to say I’m a good liar, and a moment later, he nodded.

“Well, then. Why don’t you come in and let me see? May I take your coat?”