Ever Strange

by Alisa Woods

  Eventually, the music stopped.

  She was shaking. It seemed an hour before her heart stopped racing.

  When it finally did, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Ever slept in—well, it was sleeping in for her.

  Eight in the morning. She made breakfast—some frozen breakfast burrito that was purely awful—then got on her computer. Her face was splashed on the news. Scion of the Family Strange Missing. The subtitle was worse, though, because it might be true. Just days after famous med-magick researcher overdoses. She shook her fist at the screen. They should be reporting on the missing bodies and the potential serial killer. The FBI should be scouring the streets for the possibly still alive missing people, including her father and Willow and who knew how many others. Maybe the FBI was all over it—she’d have no way to know. It wasn’t in the news, and Zane hadn’t told her anything. Granted, he hadn’t been around or conscious or sober, but still.

  Over the next three hours, she was tempted three separate times to go wake him. It was only the prospect of what she would find, bumbling into his room, that stopped her. And then a brief, terrifying thought he might be dead almost propelled her to burst in anyway. But she didn’t. And then finally, almost at noon, his bedroom door opened.

  Her heart lurched and her tongue tangled up. Zane shuffled the three steps from the bedroom to the bathroom, his body covered with a hooded robe so she couldn’t even see his face. Then he disappeared inside. The shower ran for a good long time, and when he re-emerged, he hustled back to his bedroom, still wrapped in that dark robe.

  Impatience was itching up her back.

  A few minutes later, he strode out fully dressed, but more casual than his metal-buckled vest and floor-length leather jacket from the day before. This morning was a plain pair of leather pants, a fitted black t-shirt, and bare feet, which Ever found more than a little disarming.

  “Morning,” he said as if nothing had happened. He went on his way to investigate the freezer for breakfast, his hair still damp from the shower.

  For fuck’s sake. “Good morning!” She sprung up from the couch and marched over to the tiny kitchenette. There was really nowhere to go in the small apartment. Did he think he could avoid talking to her? “Are we going to talk about last night?”

  He gave her a sideways look as he pulled a breakfast burrito from the freezer. “Did I say something to offend you? If so, I apologize.” He placed it in the microwave and turned it on.

  Her eyebrows lifted. Did he really not remember? Or was he just pretending? “You said I was beautiful and brilliant.”

  He faced her, crossed his arms, and seemed to be fighting a smile. “I did not say brilliant.”

  “You were thinking it.”

  The smile won out. “What, you have mental magick now? Reading my thoughts?”

  She refused to smile. “No. I have ears.”

  His smile faltered. The microwave dinged. He scowled at it, took out his food, and brushed past her to go sit at the small dining table.

  She sighed. There was no need to push him on his private business—but they really shouldn’t ignore it. She strode over to the table and sat in the second chair, facing him.

  He paid extraordinary attention to his burrito.

  Ever folded her hands on the table. “Look, I’m trusting you. Literally with my life. We need to not have secrets here.”

  He gave her a look like she was absurd.

  She unlocked her hands and spread them wide. “Fair enough. I’m not telling you all my secrets either.” That caught his interest. Ever had been across the table from far too many people in negotiations large and small—her Talents weren’t just in magick. Reading faces and body language, understanding the stakes and the personalities and the interests at play… all of it was essential to keeping her family’s empire running smoothly and growing where it needed to. Zane Walker was mysterious, alluring, and probably dangerous—but he wasn’t impenetrable. Far from it, given what she already knew about the man. He was powerful and powerfully reserved—and those two went together. It wasn’t a bad combination as long as it didn’t stand in the way of what she needed—which was to find her father and bring him home. Or if the worst had happened, to clear his name.

  When she let the silence hang long enough, he spoke. “What kind of secrets does a high-class witch like you have?”

  “You might be surprised.” And he would, not that she would be diving into that. “But that doesn’t matter. And I don’t care what you do in your bedroom at night—” But he flinched as she said it; he definitely cared. “What I care about is what you said.”

  “Remind me never to compliment you again.” He took a savage bite out of his burrito.

  But she held his gaze. “I mean about Pennies being after me.”

  He frowned and set the burrito down. “He wants me to bring you back in.” At her wide-eyed look, he rushed out, “I’m not going to. Obviously. I just…” He rubbed his forehead, and some of the toll of the night showed up on his face. “I need to call in. I’m not sure where to go with this.”

  “With what?” She was going to physically beat the man if he didn’t start providing real information.

  He grimaced. “I think Pennies’ brother might be our killer.”

  She leaned back. “So I was right. That he was to blame. Just for the wrong reason.”

  “And maybe the right one.” Zane shook his head and shoved away his burrito. “I think Pennies is spiking the drugs as well. Or at least procuring the magick. That’s not something Pawel could pull off on his own. Pennies is covering for his brother and consolidating his power for something… in particular. I’m not sure what, but he wants me back for an important shipment of something today.” He gave her a serious look. “And he wants me to bring you.”

  She frowned but leaned back on the table. “What’s in the shipment?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And the only way to find out is to be there.” She tapped at a small chip in the tabletop. One of her nervous habits. She stopped and looked up. “What happens if you show up without me?”

  He picked up his burrito again, like he was contemplating whether he was hungry enough to finish. She’d had the same thought earlier. “He won’t like it. Which means I lose trust. Which means I may be out. If I get made too soon, we lose a lot. Access to Pennies and his plans. Which means we lose the potential to stop those plans, whatever they are, not to mention Pawel’s murder spree. Or finding out where he might be keeping the overdose victims. We’ve got zero evidence of any of this now—just my hunch.” He decided to take a bite, chewing fast.

  Ever talked so he could eat. “So you need to stay undercover long enough to solve this. And soon. I mean, I don’t know how long serial killers like to hold onto their victims, but every minute this goes on is bad, right?”

  Zane nodded as he chewed.

  “Maybe my dad won’t be the next one up in the queue,” Ever continued, “but someone will. And he has Willow as well.”

  Zane swallowed. “If it’s him.”

  “What about the FBI? They must have some leads by now.”

  “Right.” Zane rose up and finished the burrito on the way to the kitchenette. He pulled open a drawer and withdrew a laptop. “I need to call in.”

  “I’m part of this, too.” She stood up from the table.

  “All right, fine.” He waved her over as he set up. A screen with an FBI logo popped up, and Zane quickly logged in. “Secure channel,” he told her as he tapped through a sequence and brought up a videochat. Zane’s partner appeared briefly, told Zane to sit tight, then disappeared.

  A moment later, Special Agent-in-charge Burrows appeared on the screen. “Walker, what do you have for me?” she clipped.

  As Zane briefed her on the situation, Ever’s phone pinged.

  It was a text from Nia. What’s your status?

  Vidochatting with the FBI right now, she texted back.

  Call me when yo
u’re done.

  Ever sighed and pocketed her phone.

  “—and I’m waiting on a message from Pennies,” Zane was saying.

  “You don’t know the time and place of the meet?” Burrows asked.

  “No. What’s the status on your end?”

  Burrows blew out a breath. “It’s a fucking nightmare. We’ve got way more potential victims than we knew. Not just the dozen who were missing from the morgue. There’s been a rash of missing person’s reports. We’re just now looping local law enforcement in on this, and CPD is not happy. The media’s sniffing around. Your billionaire witch’s disappearance has got them in a frenzy.”

  “Shit.” Zane’s eyes narrowed. “How many are missing?”

  “Fifty. Maybe more.” Burrow’s pale blue eyes were drilling Zane through the screen. “We’ve got almost no leads. The surveillance of the body drop outside the fence turned up nothing—just a couple of random thugs who were paid by a guy in a mask. No known gang affiliation. And we’ve got another body this morning.”

  Zane flashed a look to Ever then back to Burrows. “Identification?”

  “Not your father,” Burrows said to Ever. Back to Zane, “Not your CharmCare girl, either. Male, early 20’s. But this one was found in Millenium Park. With another note from the Resurrectionist.”

  “What did it say?” Ever asked, horrified.

  Burrows scowled. “A body a day keeps the FBI away.”

  “Fuck.” Zane leaned back and sucked air through his teeth. “He’s taunting us.”

  Ever scanned his face. “That’s bad, right?”

  Burrows answered her. “It means he’s leading us by the nose, and he feels pretty damn safe. Which is fairly warranted given we’ve got nothing on this.” She was pissed.

  “Which means more bodies,” Zane said. “Any leads on the latest one?”

  “We’re tracking down security cam footage, but no… Zane, we’ve got nothing.” She flicked a look at Ever.

  Zane scowled. “No.”

  Ever had missed something. She looked between the two. “What?”

  Burrows was engaged in a glaring contest with Zane. “Serial killer. Missing bodies. Speculations about fucking necromancy, Walker. The press won’t sit on this if we have another body. Which, if our killer sticks to pattern, is going to be tomorrow morning. Then we’re going to have a city in a full-blown panic.”

  Zane was shaking his head. “I can’t—”

  “You’re the only one with a lead at this point.” Her voice was steely, but she softened it when she looked to Ever. “Do you want your father back?”

  What kind of question was that? “Of course!”

  “Then we need your help,” Burrows said.

  “How?” Ever had definitely missed something.

  “She’s not an agent,” Zane sputtered. “She’s not trained—

  “Did she, or did she not, take on you and Agent Grimes in magickal combat?” Burrows asked steadily. “She can handle herself. And we need her.”

  “Trained for what?” Ever said, her voice rising. “Will someone please explain this to me?”

  Zane’s voice turned mechanical. “Special Agent-in-Charge Burrows wants you to go undercover with me to meet up with Pennies. So I can extract the information I need without blowing my cover.” He turned back to Burrows. “And I strongly object to this plan.”

  Undercover? Ever’s eyes went wide.

  Burrows turned to her. “You’ll be going in with full backup. You’ll be mic’d. We’ll have FBI SWAT on standby. We’ll be right there.”

  “They will not be right there.” Zane’s dark eyes were on fire when he looked to her. “Ever, they will be too far away to do anything if this goes south.”

  “But you’ll be there,” she said.

  “Yes… I’ll be there.” His eyes searched hers. He didn’t want her to do this. He was trying to tell her, without saying it in front of his boss, that she couldn’t count on him. That she shouldn’t count on him.

  But she knew she could. Even if he didn’t believe it himself.

  “Yes, Agent Walker will be there,” Burrows was urging her on. “And once we get what we need, we’ll pull you out.”

  “And tracking down this lead with Pennies…” Ever looked to her. “We’ll find out if he’s the one who’s drugging and kidnapping all these people? And maybe murdering them.”

  “It’s our best lead at this point,” Burrows said. “Our only lead.”

  Zane just squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Like he already knew Ever would sign up for this yet he couldn’t quite believe it. He knew her pretty well.

  “Okay,” Ever said to Burrows. “I’m in.”

  “Good.” Burrows lifted her chin to Zane. “Set up whatever you need. Arrow will coordinate, but I’ll be in this every step. We’ll be on standby for word from you about the meet.” Then she shut down the videochat line.

  Zane slowly lifted his head to stare at Ever. “This is not brilliant.”

  “Then it’ll just have to be the right thing to do.” She tried a smile, but Zane only looked haggard.

  He shut the laptop, turned his back on her, walked to his bedroom, and closed the door. It wasn’t exactly a slam, but it was definitely harder than it needed to be.

  Ever hesitated then pulled out her phone. Somehow, she had to explain to her bodyguard why she was going undercover with the FBI to help find a serial killer in a drug cartel.

  Nia was going to be pissed.

  Chapter Nine

  “You need to look… worse.” Zane couldn’t believe he had to do this.

  Ever tucked her long, brown hair behind her ear and gave him a skeptical look. “Worse how?”

  “Worse like you’ve been drained repeatedly of nearly every ounce of life and magick during two days of continuous orgasms.” Just the words made the darker side of him rumble in the depths of his stomach, clawing for release. Not going to fucking happen. Unless things went sideways with Pennies again, and then…

  Her eyes were wide. “I don’t know how to do that.” And he suspected not. Ever Strange had a lot of things but guile didn’t seem to be one of them. There was that bit of innocence in her—she was somehow both ridiculously powerful yet not touched by the dark underbelly of the world. Although she did say something about secrets…

  Ever bit her lip.

  “Don’t worry. I do.” He beckoned her a little closer. They were waiting in his apartment until it was time to leave for the meet with Pennies. It was late—a nighttime drop again—and Zane had spent most of the day coordinating the operation with the bureau and trying not to growl at Ever while he explained her part. Basically, she just had to keep quiet, act listless and dazed, and he’d do all the talking. And hopefully get her out of there alive—but he didn’t dwell on that. Only she didn’t look the part at all. Her pale cheeks weren’t pale enough. Her eyes were too bright with hope. She’d scrubbed all the makeup off from the day before, but that just left her looking even prettier, in a softer way. And she was back in her original simple attire she wore at the bakery—jeans, tennis shoes, and that flowing white blouse. Her lips were a natural pink that made him think about things he would never be doing with her. He needed to visit the Rowdy House again, and soon. Find a new girl with long, brown hair…

  He was staring. Fuck. “Okay, here’s how this works.” He raised his hand and held it in front of her face, fingers poised. A wary look creased her brow. As well it should. “I’m going to use some glamour to make you look like you’ve been living in an incubus lair for two days.”

  She leaned away from his hand a little. “Isn’t glamour illegal?”

  A smile welled up from somewhere deep and nearly made it to his lips. “Yes.” She kept doing that to him.

  She scowled and leaned back in, nearly touching his fingers. He pulled back. They didn’t need to be that close.

  “Well, go on.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, like she thought it might hurt.

  “
Relax,” he said, as much for himself as for her. “The glamour isn’t a spell on you. That’s not how mental magick works.”

  Her expression opened a little. “So tell me.” And she was leaning closer again. Which was totally unnecessary, but he didn’t back away. Because that would be awkward. Or maybe because she was casting some kind of spell on him with those big brown eyes staring expectantly, lips parted... Oh man. He cleared his throat and conjured, tracing imaginary lines with his fingers just inches from her face. Painting the air with glamour. “I’m constructing the spell, mentally, by envisioning you as my victim.”

  “What does that look like?” She was close enough he could feel her breath against his palm.

  Damn his incubus nature for noticing every fucking thing she did, no matter how innocent. He swallowed and focused on the spell. “Dark hollows under your eyes. Skin a little papery, like you’ve aged ten years overnight. Your eyes are too shiny, too full of life. I’ll dull those out, make you look like your soul has been drained, and put a little manic pleasure in them. Your hair needs to be limp and lifeless as well.” He ran his fingers along the contour of her hair, inches away from touching but following the flow. He was doing better now, focusing on imagining her wrecked—the way she would be if he lost control in the midst of whatever nightmare Pennies had in store for her. Keeping her from that was just as important as keeping her safe from his inner beast. He returned to focusing on her face. “Your eyelashes are too thick,” he scolded. “I thought you took your makeup off.”

  “I did.” Her voice was wispy, almost breathless. The soft sound of it suddenly riveted him. She was staring up at him.

  Fucking hell, Zane, what are you doing? “Well… they need to be… worse.” He scowled and fluttered his fingers more determinedly, withering the natural lushness of her lashes. He’d left her lips for last because he was a fucking idiot. He gritted his teeth as he focused there, swinging his fingers back and forth over them, hovering inches away and painting the illusion with magick that they were chapped and pale and shriveled. With the spell constructed in his mind, he could see both versions—the vibrant, rosy-lipped woman staring up at him with an expression he didn’t dare interpret, and the haggard, spent victim she would be if he gave into the base desires rumbling low in his belly.