Free WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1) by Victoria Danann

to soften the air and keep my eyes from trying to wither away in my own head as they sometimes did in L.A’s dry air.
    As I took the last three steps I was thinking that maybe Wimberley was heaven.
    A few people looked over and visibly noted my tardiness. I supposed I was the only one who was late, but I’ve got to tell you, that nap was good.
    I spotted Ivan. When I caught his eye, he gave me a friendly chin lift so I began moving in his direction to say hello. Before I reached him I was intercepted by a waiter.
    “What can I get you to drink, Mr. Draiocht?”
    “Margarita.”
    “Very good, sir. Would you like frozen or on the rocks?”
    “Rocks.”
    “Salt or no salt?”
    “No salt.”
    “Would you like that with 1800, Hornitos, or we stock four kinds of Jose Cuervo: Gold, Silver Especial, Tradicional Reposado, and Extra Anejo.”
    “Reposado.”
    He smiled, gave a tiny head nod and disappeared.
    Ivan smiled. He’d watched the whole exchange. “What is it with you and complicated drinks?”
    “Seems they take their margaritas as seriously as I do.”
    “Will,” he said, “this is Kellan.”
    “Kellan,” I repeated as I shook his hand. Looking around I said, “So this is the competition.”
    “Well, no. About fifteen of these guys are winners.”
    “Other than the ones from the video, how do you know who’s who?”
    Ivan shrugged.
    Kellan said, “The older ones are probably winners.”
    “Yeah,” said Ivan, “but just to be on the safe side I’m going to ask before I start talking.”
    “Makes sense. If they tell the truth.” Turning back to Kellan, I said, “Winner or wannabe?”
    He laughed, clearly surprised. “Good one.”
    I smiled. “Thanks. But you didn’t answer the question.”
    His grin resolved into a smile as he studied me with sparkling eyes. “Okay. You got me. I’m a winner. Been here for six years.”
    Truthfully? I wasn’t expecting that. Partly because I wasn’t expecting the winners to be pretending to be contestants. I guess they were bound to tell the truth when asked point blank though. Good to know.
    “So, Kellan. What’s your heart’s desire?”
    He laughed again. “You’re a fast learner, Willem.”
    I cocked my head to the side. “How did you know my birth name is Willem?”
    “You’re a fast learner, but if you win, you’ll find you’ve got a lot to learn. Later.” He walked away, smiling like somebody who had the best secret in the universe.
    “Wow,” Ivan said, looking a little stunned.
    “You didn’t say anything incriminating, did you?”
    Ivan looked worried. He seemed to be sifting back through their conversation. “I don’t think so. I just thought he was an amiable sort.”
    “He probably is. Winners don’t have to be assholes. At least I don’t think so. The guys on the video seemed genuine enough.”
    “Yeah. They did. Especially the musician.”
    “Simon?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “Wonder if he’s here. I think he’d be most likely to give up juicy info.”
    Ivan nodded. “Let’s hunt him down.”
    Something about the way he said that brought out the predator in me. So I responded with what I thought was a manly nod and let my eyes wander over the gathering.
    A tray appeared in front of my line of sight. “One margarita, Mr. Draiocht. On the rocks, no salt, Jose Reposado.”
    The margarita was presented in a heavy Mexican blown glass goblet that could have come from one of the local galleries, and probably did. I took a sip and let my eyes go closed. Damn. I couldn’t make myself a margarita that good.
    “Anything else, sir?”
    “This is perfection, …?”
    I let the question hang in the air making it clear that I was asking for his name.
    “Roque. Quintanilla.” He added his surname as an afterthought.
    “Thank you for the best margarita I’ve ever had, Mister Quintanilla.”
    He nodded and disappeared into the crowd with a grin on his face.
    We began skirting around the edges of the crowd for signs of Simon,