Page 5 of Demon Loved (The Witches of Mingus Mountain #5)

Or not. While he knew from watching television with Elena that humans could have loose lips when they’d imbibed enough alcoholic beverages, he somehow doubted any self-respecting witch or warlock would let a secret like that slip, no matter how much they’d had to drink.

He allowed himself a shrug, getting a bit more used to this body and how it moved, and then headed out.

The corridor just outside his room was empty of both humans and ghosts, but he still found his way to the stairwell and made his descent that way rather than use the elevator.

This place also felt ever so slightly haunted, but nowhere near as badly as the elevator did.

Soon enough, though, he had emerged into the lobby, which wasn’t precisely bustling at that hour but still had enough people occupying it to make the space seem a bit friendlier than the empty stairwell.

And then he descended the steep steps to the street level, which in front of the hotel wasn’t much more than a glorified parking lot.

However, he spied a set of stairs set into the hillside, beckoning him down to Jerome’s main street, where he’d noticed shops and restaurants and bars as the self-driving taxi brought him up to the Grand Hotel.

That certainly seemed like the best place to look for any clues that might lead him to the elusive artifacts.

Besides, he was hungry. In his true form, he did not need to eat, as he derived the sustenance he needed from the air he breathed and the energy of the universe itself, but this body was very different.

Also, consuming food, while new and strange to him, wasn’t a complete novelty anymore, not after he’d eaten various Salvadoran delicacies and had consumed an entire piece of Elena and Alessandro’s lush chocolate wedding cake while at their reception.

Belshegar doubted he’d be able to locate any wedding cake here, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find something interesting to break his fast.

As he walked along the main street, he noticed many cars were leaving their parking places and heading down the hill. True, evening was approaching, but he was still startled to see the way Jerome appeared to empty as the day wound down to a close.

A few signs of life remained, however. Several doors down from the spot where he stood, music spilled out through a door open to the warm, mild evening, the sound of the instrument known as a guitar accompanying a woman’s voice, pure and sweet.

There was no music in his world, but he’d always been entranced to hear it during those times when he visited Elena in her attic bedroom and she would play something for him — quietly, of course, so as not to wake her father and grandmother — on her computer.

This was even better, though, because he could somehow tell this was no recording, but someone singing and playing just a few yards away from him.

His feet moved forward as though pulled by an invisible force.

When he drew closer, he saw that the establishment where the woman was playing appeared to be some kind of wine-tasting room.

He’d drunk a little champagne at Elena’s reception so he wouldn’t look out of place and still didn’t quite know what to think of it, but if he had to consume wine to fit in while he listened to the woman sing, then he would do what he must.

The place was larger than he’d thought, narrow but stretching at least sixty or seventy feet lengthwise, terminating in an enormous window that framed a truly spectacular view of the valley below and a series of red rock bluffs and purple mountains off in the distance.

He noted that most of the tables were occupied, giving the lie to all the cars he’d seen driving away only a moment earlier.

Had these people decided to stay so they wouldn’t miss out on the musical performance?

Even as that thought passed through his mind, he found his gaze drawn to the source of the sweet sounds that had drifted through the tasting room’s open door.

The woman sat on a simple wooden stool and held a steel-string guitar in her lap. Her hair was pale gold, falling in soft waves past her shoulders, while her eyes were as blue as the sky must have been at noon, hours before he arrived in Jerome. Long, skillful fingers plucked at the metal strings.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in this world…or any other.

“Can I get you something?” the man standing behind the bar asked.

Belshegar had been so focused on the woman’s singing that he couldn’t help startling a little at the sudden intrusion of a deeper voice. Hoping he hadn’t made too much of a fool of himself, he said, “Yes…a glass of wine, please.”

The man pushed a piece of paper toward him, one that seemed to include all the tasting room’s offerings. “This is what we have available by the glass.”

Although Belshegar had never been taught to formally read, his time with Elena had exposed him to the English language and the letters used to form its words, so he was able to grasp the contents of the wine menu well enough.

Or rather, while he had no idea what a “chardonnay” or a “GSM blend” was, he could make out the words “white” and “red.”

The champagne he’d drunk at Elena’s wedding reception had been white. While he still couldn’t say whether he’d cared for it, at least a white wine was something halfway familiar.

“The white blend, please,” he said politely, and the man nodded, then went to fetch a bottle from one of the coolers behind the bar.

As he was pouring the glass, Belshegar added, “Who is she?” and inclined his head toward the spot where the blonde woman sat on her stool and continued to sing and play.

“Brianna McAllister,” the bartender supplied. “She plays here every other Wednesday.”

Brianna. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Belshegar knew he probably shouldn’t be thinking of her that way, not when he wasn’t human and shouldn’t have been able to feel even the slightest ounce of attraction toward a mortal.

Perhaps this wasn’t an attraction, though.

Perhaps this was only admiration, the same way he would admire one of Elena’s skillful pencil sketches or one of the stunning sunrises he’d viewed from her attic bedroom after he’d spent the night comforting her and reassuring her that she would never be alone.

Yes, it was much better…and less unsettling…to think of this Brianna McAllister as a particularly beautiful work of art.

He thanked the bartender and found an empty seat somewhat farther away from the woman than he would have liked. However, he could still hear her and see her, if not from an optimal position.

To his surprise, the wine tasted good. Was he more accustomed to this human body now, or was it simply that the white blend he’d been served was more suitable to his palate than champagne?

He couldn’t say for sure. The one thing he did know was that he was glad to be here, drinking this wine, listening to the woman sing…even if the reason for his presence in Jerome wasn’t anything so benign as simple tourism.

Well, the voice hadn’t given him a time limit for his mission, most likely because a being from a higher plane such as that didn’t have as firm a grasp on the boundaries of time as a human might.

Belshegar had no doubt that if he dawdled too much, he might be recalled and taken to task, but he doubted such a thing would happen after his first night here.

Besides, this was intelligence gathering…of a sort.

Because he realized, as he drank his wine and listened to the music, that this Brianna McAllister was a witch, just as Elena and Alessandro and the various members of their families had been.

Probably not the witch he was looking for, the one who had the precious artifacts in her possession, but still, witches always belonged to clans, and that meant Brianna quite possibly would know where the items he sought were being kept.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps those treasures were so precious that the witch and warlock who possessed them hadn’t spoken of them to anyone else.

Still, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Brianna McAllister might be an important source of information…and that meant he needed to figure out a way to talk to her once she was done playing.

The mere thought of doing something so bold sent a frisson of worry through him.

At Elena’s reception, she’d introduced him to everyone as a cousin on her mother’s side in order to explain his presence there.

Because her mother had abandoned the family when Elena was barely a toddler and had been a “civilian” — nonmagical person — as well, none of the Castillos had asked too many questions.

He had felt like an ordinary man to them, and they’d accepted him as such.

Well, except for the demon lord Loc and his wife, Catalina, who knew the real truth.

But in that situation, Elena and Alessandro had been the ones to make the introductions, and Belshegar hadn’t needed to approach anyone on his own.

Here, though, the only way he would be able to meet Brianna McAllister was if he went up to her of his own volition.

She smiled sometimes as she played, but he noticed how she kept her gaze neutral, avoiding eye contact with anyone in particular, as if she’d discovered in the past that doing so would only invite attention she didn’t desire.

That theory seemed logical enough. She was very beautiful, and he guessed some men would have pursued her even if they hadn’t been given any real encouragement.

Which meant he needed to be neutrally friendly but not too bold. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her off.

He also noticed how magic seemed to thrum around her, although he could tell she wasn’t consciously wielding it, wasn’t doing anything that might bring attention to her witch nature.

Indeed, he was fairly certain even another member of her clan or some other witch or warlock wouldn’t have detected those energies, but because he wasn’t human, he was able to sense the glow of the magic as it surrounded her, somehow resonating with the very beams overhead and the long sweep of the antique copper-topped bar.

Did she even realize what she was doing?

That was something he didn’t know for sure.

Although their magic was born within witch-kind, waiting to awaken when they reached the age of ten or eleven, each witch or warlock had to learn how to wield that magic — or not wield it, as the case may be, since they were so careful to make sure their true natures remained concealed from the outer world.

The song ended, and Belshegar swallowed some wine to brace himself. Brianna spoke then, saying she was going to take a brief break before she came back for her next set. Her speaking voice was as sweet as the one she employed while singing, friendly and clear.

She got down from the stool and leaned the guitar against it, then went over to the bar to get a glass of water. Belshegar watched her, knowing he needed to approach…even though he had no idea how to do such a thing without seeming painfully obvious.

But then she took her glass of water and headed outside, clearly wanting to get some fresh air before she began the next segment of her performance.

Now or never.

Belshegar set down his glass of wine and went in pursuit of his quarry.