by Gina LaManna
“If you don’t let The Hex Files go, they will be the death of you.” Matthew spoke with a certainty that sent a tremble across Dani’s skin. “I’ll try my best to protect you, but—”
“I don’t need protection.”
“Exactly.” He gave a nod that indicated a point to Dani. “You don’t want my protection. You’ll go it alone, and even if you did let me in, I’m not sure I could protect you from all you’ll find.”
“Do you know what’s in them?”
“I know enough to warn you away.” Matthew’s eyes were inky black, deeper than the depths of the ocean, darker than the blackest night. “To hear you talk...”
Dani’s hard exterior softened just the slightest amount. For the one made of stone, Matthew often found it harder to crack Dani than she did him. She must have sensed a change in him because she met his eyes, pursed her lips in thought.
“What is it?” she murmured.
“That was the last one—the last kiss,” he said. “I swear I will leave you be... until you ask me to kiss you again.”
“Until I ask you.” Her eyes shifted, still a hue of brilliant violet. She laughed. “Sure.”
“It’s not funny,” Matthew said. “If you do not let The Hex Files go, that will be the last kiss we ever share.”
“Matthew—”
“I swear I’ll not say another word after this, but I owe you a warning. Please, Danielle, reconsider.”
“I’ve had over eight months to consider.” Dani’s mouth fell into a straight, narrowed line. “I am done considering. This isn’t your problem, Matthew, it’s mine. Are we going to talk to Lorraine, or not?”
While they’d been speaking, they’d been moving, and had swiftly reached the Howler.
Matthew could only bow his head and hope the locked files wouldn’t be the death of her. “After you.”
MATTHEW COULD FEEL Dani’s emotions festering just under the surface. He’d promised to let her take the lead as much as possible. However, he wouldn’t let her do it when she wasn’t thinking straight. Doing so could risk everything.
“Lorraine,” Matthew said, effusing the silk into his voice—whether for the bartender’s sake or Dani’s, he couldn’t quite say. “May we have a word for a moment?”
Lorraine wore her usual uniform: tight dark jeans and a low-cut tank top. She dressed for tips more than comfort, he suspected, though the style fit her personality well. Her auburn red hair rolled in bouncy tight circles around her head, and with the addition of heavy makeup, she looked almost like a caricature.
“What about?” Lorraine’s eyes seemed trusting of Matthew. Ironically, it was Dani she glanced at with concern.
Matthew reached for Dani’s shoulder and rested a hand there. “This is Detective DeMarco, and I’m Captain King—we were in here yesterday and spoke briefly to you,” Matthew said easily, lightly, his voice lilting with an ancient accent. The language of seduction. “We need just a moment of your time.”
“What’s her problem?” Lorraine wasn’t so affected by Matthew’s persuasiveness that she didn’t notice the clenching of Dani’s fists or the eerie violet that lingered in her eyes. “The detective looks like she wants to bite my head off.”
“It’s a difficult case,” Matthew said, so far relieved the media hadn’t caught wind of it. “And upsetting. If we could have your help, it’d be greatly appreciated.”
Just after he’d arrived at the crime scene and seen the mayor’s body, Matthew had requested and received approval for a magical ban of silence over the case that would last until noon. After that, the feeding frenzy would begin, and everyone would go wild. Tip lines would be flooded with losers and hopefuls, paranoids and well-intentioned. They’d have to run down all the leads no matter how farfetched. It was always a race against time to see how fast the officers could work through a case before the media ban broke. The hours were ticking down.
“I don’t have anything to tell you.” Lorraine put a hand on her hip. “I swear. What do you need an alibi for? Or when?”
“We don’t need an alibi,” Matthew said, though Dani started to argue. He raised a hand to stop her. “You’re not a suspect, though it is a murder case. We think you might have information that could lead us to the murderer. We believe he might have even been here.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” The voice was familiar. It came from behind Matthew and Dani. “I had the pleasure of meeting these two yesterday,” Grey smiled as Matthew and Dani whirled around. The werewolf moved his hulking form with a silence and grace that came solely with supernatural skills. “You can talk to them, Lorraine. In fact, I encourage it.”
Lorraine looked to Grey as if his word was law. Eventually, she shrugged under his gaze. “Don’t know what I can do to help. I don’t have anything to hide, nor do I have any information to offer.”
Grey loped around behind the bar. His shoulders were wide and broad, and his height matched that of Matthew’s plus some. Matthew stood stiffly, annoyed he hadn’t heard the approach of the werewolf. For one of the first times in his life, Matthew discovered he may have found a worthy opponent; in a physical battle, it would be hard to predict who might win—the vamp or the wolf.
The bars tattooed on Grey-no-last-name’s arms moved as the muscles flexed underneath, and even Matthew couldn’t deny the raw appeal of the man before him. He recognized one of his own—a loner, an alpha of sorts, one who enjoyed being in control.
Matthew’s fangs started to descend in reaction to the dog. He caught a whiff of power, of the nonchalance that came from Grey’s comfort in his own skin—from a sheer, dumb confidence bordering on invincibility. Grey might not be handsome in the traditional sense, but he turned the head of every woman in the bar from sheer presence alone.
Matthew sensed the subtle pulls toward Grey. Even Dani was affected, though she might not realize it or understand it, and Matthew knew why. Like most women, Dani was drawn to the dark of power, to the mystery behind Grey, to the magnetic draw of his gaze as it fell on hers.
“What are you doing here?” Matthew murmured, using everything he had to keep his fangs from descending, his teeth from gnashing at the wolf. “Lorraine can talk on her own.”
The sense of false calmness that’d descended on Lorraine from the satin lilt in Matthew’s voice disappeared in a snap. Her eyes focused, the haze that’d swirled there seconds before now painfully vacant.
“No,” she said. “I want Grey here. Anything I say, he can hear. I’d tell him the second you left, anyway, so it’s useless to try and keep this private.”
Matthew’s eyes raised to Grey. He was vaguely aware of the women’s gazes following the two as they stood in a standoff similar to last night. What Matthew found in Grey’s expression surprised him: curiosity more than challenge, and pity more than fear.
Grey’s next move had Matthew exhaling a sigh of relief. He rested a huge hand on Lorraine’s shoulder and pulled her too close to signal of friendship. The kiss that followed was anything but cordial, and both Matthew and Dani turned away.
When Lorraine pulled back from Grey, she gave him a salacious smile that sent dirty thoughts to anyone within a stone’s throw of the couple. Though their outward displays of affection made Matthew uncomfortable, he couldn’t deny the relief that washed through him at the pairing. Matthew could rest easier knowing that for now, at least, the werewolf had his sights set on the pretty bartender, and not on the love of Matthew’s undead life.
When he spoke, Matthew’s voice left behind any sense of the ancient lilt and sounded downright cheery for once. “Fine—any chance someone can cover for Lorraine so the four of us can grab a booth?”
Lorraine again looked to Grey for an answer, their gaze a shared sizzle that again caused Dani to roll her eyes in impatience. Matthew hid his own smile of relief.
“Sure,” Grey said. “Hey, Liesel—take over for a minute, will you? We’ll be in Ten.”
The werewolf led the rest of the party through the dimly lit room. Both cat and
doglike gazes watched their movements from the corners. Shadows prowled around the edges of the bar, and Matthew’s senses leapt to high alert, unable to process every little detail that made his skin crawl. The place smelled like dog, like cat, and like...Danielle.
He focused on her floral, honeysuckle scent as they made their way to the back of the bar. When they reached a door cloaked in darkness, Grey slipped his arm around Lorraine and led the way. Matthew followed, holding the door open for Dani before stepping through himself.
Once inside, Matthew realized that Ten must be shorthand for the servers when labeling their tables. In the darkness beyond the main bar, this small room, containing only a circular table, provided privacy from the rest. Old smoke from expensive cigars hung in the air, and a dusty shelf of amber and opaque liquids wrapped in crystal decanters sat with shiny glasses next to them.
The four of them took seats in high backed black leather chairs. Matthew found himself wondering idly what sorts of deals had gone down here in the past. It was the sort of place with blood on its hands. Targets named and eliminated, treaties signed and broken, spies made and destroyed.
Dani hid her discomfort well, but it was no surprise that a witch and a vampire trapped in the back of a shifter bar would be anxious. It was their natural instinct to flee.
“Thanks for agreeing to talk,” Matthew said, surveying the room. “As you both know, I’m—”
“We know who you are,” Lorraine said. “What do you want with me?”
Grey leaned back in his chair, watching through eyes that matched his name. His irises looked like windows into a misty forest, the fog there alluring and mysterious. He traced circles on Lorraine’s bare shoulder with his finger, and the motion seemed soothing to her.
“Yesterday, we were in here looking for Joey Jones.” Matthew leveled his gaze across the table. “When we found him, he was in bad shape.”
Grey gave an interested nod that signaled he remembered the body the vampire and the witch had carried between them. “What had he taken? I didn’t recognize the smell.”
“Neither did I,” Matthew admitted in a moment of bonding. “We still don’t know what was in his system, but we believe he encountered it here.”
“That’s impossible,” Lorraine said. “He didn’t talk to anyone. As usual, he came over to me, took a good long gander at my boobs, and then tipped a boatload because I caught him looking. It’s our usual song and dance.”
“That’s what he said, too.” Matthew focused directly on Lorraine and allowed the lilt to seep back into his voice. “He said that you—”
“Shut up,” Grey snarled. He leaned forward, menacing. “Talk to her like that again, and I’ll have you by the throat.”
Matthew turned calmly toward the werewolf, relieved, for once, to be in control. “What are you talking about?”
“That stupid—the glamour,” he said. “Knock it off or we’re done.”
Matthew cleared his throat, stifled the smallest of smiles while both women looked on in confusion. It had been so subtle that neither of the women had noticed the accent, the ancient lilt. In retrospect, Matthew realized he might’ve done it just to egg on the wolf, knowing he’d be the only one in the room to see through it.
“My apologies. Sometimes my, ah, peculiarities just slip out. Nature—I’m sure you understand.” Matthew watched Lorraine but spoke to Grey—the meaning of his words clear. No matter what, every full moon, Grey would morph into a werewolf if, indeed, that was his true form. In some ways, nature would always win. No amount of control could quench a werewolf’s thirst for the moon or a vampire’s taste for blood.
“You said Joey didn’t talk to anyone else.” Matthew focused intently on Lorraine. “Are you absolutely positive? One hundred percent certain? We’re looking for even the briefest of interactions. It takes but a second to slip a capsule into someone’s drink.”
“I’m sure,” Lorraine said quickly, but then she paused and considered before giving a nod of confirmation. “I watched him walk over to the booth and sit down. I remember because it wasn’t long after that he got all spacey and dazed, and I wondered why. But the Howler isn’t a place one asks too many personal questions.”
The end of that statement was pointed.
“I’m sorry,” Matthew said, “but there’s been a murder, and it will be out from under wraps soon. We need to follow every lead we can before the public gets wind of it.”
“This is the borough.” Grey leaned forward, eyes squinted. “Why is it important if someone talked to Jones? Spells, curses, runes—magic can be used from across a room. Across the world.”
“Not without a trace.” Dani broke the silence. “His Residuals were clean.”
Grey’s eyes lit with the revelation. “You’re a Reserve.”
Dani’s eyes flicked briefly toward Matthew, but she held his gaze. “I’m a detective on the case. Captain King is correct—the public will be getting wind of the murders soon, and all hell will break loose after that. We need to finish up here as fast as we can. Are you sure there’s nothing you can add?”
“Murders,” Grey said, latching onto Dani’s slip. His eyes went toward King, the obviously higher ranked officer of the two. “Who? Why did they send a Reserve and the vampire to a shifter bar over a murder?”
Matthew hesitated, but eventually buckled. “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough. Whatever I tell you here doesn’t leave the room—understood?”
Grey nodded and Lorraine’s eyes grew wider as she mumbled an affirmative.
“The mayor was found dead with a companion,” Matthew offered. “We don’t know the connection between the two deaths, but being that they were in the same location, we’re imagining they’re somehow related.”
“And how does Joey play into this?” Lorraine wrinkled her nose. “He’s dumb as a box of rocks. Sorta pretty-looking, but...I mean, come on. He ain’t a murderer.”
“No, but something was off with him,” Dani said. “He doesn’t remember taking anything illegal, doesn’t remember any magic hitting him. Neither of them—” she gestured at the vampire and the werewolf—“recognize the scent of it. It’s not SpellHash.”
“Not even close,” Grey muttered. “Jones stank from here to the high heavens of something new.”
Matthew nodded. “We are trying to find out where it came from. We have an eyewitness who saw someone resembling Joey at the hotel around the time in question.”
“Joey ain’t a murderer,” Lorraine said. “I’m telling you; you’re going after the wrong guy.”
“Who should we be looking at, then?” Matthew’s eyes flicked to Lorraine’s, his voice full of natural venom. “Because from what I can tell, Joey Jones walked into the bar expecting to have a normal afternoon. He was to have a few drinks, head to the casino, and find a nice elf or Goblin Girl to cozy up to at night.”
“Instead,” Dani continued without interrupting the flow, “he got served a drink from you. He didn’t talk to another soul, nor does he remember a thing after that.”
“So, you’ll have to excuse us for being curious,” Matthew said, sinking into the easy repartee he had with Dani, “when I ask: What the hell did you put in his drink?”
Lorraine’s lips zipped shut, her green eyes glowing like gemstones. “I didn’t do nothing.”
Grey stiffened in his chair, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Dani or Matthew. “Talk to them,” he encouraged Lorraine. “You’ve got nothing to hide, and they’re not here to arrest you. Cooperation’s only going to get us the answers faster.”
“I want a lawyer,” Lorraine said, defying her boyfriend in an unexpected flash of stubbornness. “Ain’t that my right?”
Grey sat up quicker, then blinked and forced himself to remain calm. “She wants a lawyer,” he said, recovering quickly. “That’ll be all for today.”
“In the spirit of full cooperation,” Matthew said, leaning across the table. “Would you mind if I took the bottle of Wolfram Whiskey from whic
h you served Joey?”
“I don’t know if there’s any left,” Lorraine said. “Plus, you gotta pay for it. Shit’s expensive.”
“Take whatever you need,” Grey said. Though he didn’t work formally at the bar, Matthew got the feeling that his word was law in this place. “It’s on us.”
Matthew stood, nodded, and proceeded to the door. Resting a hand on the knob, he paused to glance over his shoulder and address the couple. “Just a fair warning, this case will rip the borough apart. There’s no telling what we’ll have to dig through to find the murderer, but rest assured, we’ll find him or her.”
“Is that a threat, vampire?” Lorraine pushed herself to her feet, her knuckles gripping the table as she snarled across it.
Matthew didn’t want to engage, but he wouldn’t be threatened either. Leaning toward her, he spoke in a low voice. “I don’t need to threaten you, Lorraine.” King’s eyes leveled on hers, piercing so deeply through her she seemed to lose her breath. “If you’re involved, we’ll know. A lawyer...” He smelled the fear, heard the hitch in her breath, and felt the tips of his fangs descend ever-so-slightly. “A lawyer most certainly can’t save you now.”
Chapter 11
Matthew and I left the bar before someone could throw us out. He’d obtained the bottle of Wolfram Whiskey from Liesel at Grey’s instruction, and then we’d moved at near-lightning pace down the dirt road and away from The Depth and the Howler.
I considered all we’d learned and struggled to make sense of it. “Lorraine is hiding something.”
“I don’t think she’s a murderer,” Matthew agreed, “but I think she saw something, and she’s not telling us.”
“Do you think she’s afraid?”
Matthew bit his lip in thought, the last remnants of his fangs poking through the sharp incisors as they slowly retracted completely. “It’s hard to say. I think either someone paid her to pass along a spiked beverage or she realized something had happened and was covering for someone.”
“And if it was the latter, she’s worried about being implicated because she didn’t say anything when she noticed.” I sighed. “And if it’s the former, she’s guilty anyway. Though she did have one good point.”