by Gina LaManna
The only disappointment in my week was that I hadn’t been able to find Grey. I’d asked around the second I got out of the hospital (much to Matthew’s dismay), but nobody had seen him since Lorraine had gone missing.
Therefore, on the first Friday evening after returning to the pizzeria, I was surprised when a knock sounded on the door at one thirty in the morning.
“We’re closed,” I called cheerily. We kept the place open technically until midnight, but our last customers (my mother and father) hadn’t left until a few minutes after one. “We open tomorrow at eleven a.m.!”
“Detective, may I have a word?” The voice came through the door, husky and deep, and familiar in a distant way.
A tingle skittered down my spine as Willa glanced my way and mouthed, “Who is that?”
I shrugged, went up to my tiptoes, and peeked through the peephole. I almost had a heart attack at the handsome face staring directly back at me. I put a hand over my racing heart, wondering if, like Matthew, Grey could hear the surprise in my visceral response.
“Do you guys mind if I have a few minutes outside?” I looked back to where Willa was smacking Jack with a dish towel. “Okay, you two are obviously occupied. Jack—Jack!—walk Willa home, will you? And close up when you leave, please. I might be a bit.”
“Who—”
I left before I gave them an answer, grabbing a jacket from the rack next to the wall. This hat rack was completely unenchanted. I’d always had a fond spot for this delightfully boring piece of furniture, though Marla’s recent display of loyalty upstairs had changed my tune a bit.
“Hi,” I murmured softly to Grey as I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. “I looked for you all week, but I couldn’t find you.”
“I didn’t want to be found.”
He waited for me to shrug into my jacket. I’d worn only a tank top and jeans, my hair pulled back into a high ponytail since working in the kitchen got hot. My leather jacket battled back some of the cool air from the night breeze.
Tonight, the moon was hidden behind clouds, and the only light was a faint glow from the flickering lamp-like torches along the pathways.
We walked in silence for a long while. I supposed Grey led the way, though it was difficult to tell since he held back his supernatural pace, walking easily and relaxed in time with me.
I didn’t bother to ask him how he was doing, how he was feeling, or where he’d been. All of that was inane small talk. I could feel the hurt radiating from Grey—the heartbreak, the distress, the hopeless pieces he was supposed to pick up alone. Even if we didn’t speak a word all evening, this would be enough for me.
He took me to the place where Lorraine had been killed. The sandy white banks of the stream gleamed bright—reflecting the squiggling motion of water in the fractured beams of starlight with one difference: Where she’d fallen, someone—probably Grey—had scattered an armful of flowers.
There was no particular rhyme or reason to where they’d fallen. Some petals were broken and other leaves were wilted. Roses, daisies, ferns, baby’s breath—and many, many more still bloomed beautifully. They released a soft floral scent as Grey held up a hand and gently helped me to rest atop the cave.
Beneath it all, however, was the damp odor of death from the flowers that had dried and crumbled, now left to wilt into the sand. The sweet smell mixed with the odor of decomposition in a frighteningly irresistible melody.
“She wasn’t mine.”
Grey spoke in a voice that sounded hoarse and unused. Thanks to Matthew’s explanation of the way vampires and werewolves viewed love and soulmates, I understood immediately what he meant. It didn’t seem like Grey wanted a response, so I didn’t offer one.
“But I loved her,” he said, and his voice cracked. “An incredible amount.”
“I know,” I said, and I reached for his hand. I squeezed. “She loved you, too. She died thinking she was protecting you.”
“That makes it worse.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s the fault of the horrible man who killed three people. He’s the murderer, Grey—you couldn’t have foreseen this.”
“I should have known—”
“That’s not going to get you anywhere.” I spoke sharply. “I’m sorry that’s harsh, but it’s the truth. I don’t think you came to me tonight because you wanted coddling and sympathy.”
He gave a wry smile. “They told me you were tough, Detective.”
I gave a hoarse laugh. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”
Grey looked at me, his stunning face worn, wilted—just like the dying flowers. Though I barely knew him, I couldn’t help but want to see it alight with life again. To see joy in his smile, even if it wasn’t aimed at me.
“I have been through the what if’s and the why me’s. Why didn’t I look closer? If only I’d done something—anything differently,” I murmured to him. “And it doesn’t work. There’s no peace in those questions.”
“When I said you were tough, I meant it as a compliment.” He blinked, his pure eyes gleaming at me as if one with the moon. I supposed in a way, he was linked exquisitely to it. “I came to you for a reason, Detective.”
“Dani,” I said. “It’s Dani. I’m retired.”
“You’ve been through loss?”
“I don’t know if you’d call it a loss, but...” I shrugged. “I grieved in my own way. For other things. My last relationship—well, the man I dated is dead.”
“I just needed a companion tonight,” he said. “I thought you might be the only person in my life who would understand.”
“Our situations are different, Grey. You were in love with Lorraine, and she was a good woman. That’s not how things ended for me and...him.”
“Things haven’t ended for you, Detective.”
“Maybe.” Sitting next to him was like having a space heater pointed straight at me. He ran warm, like most shifters. “I haven’t gotten the chance to thank you, yet.”
“You don’t owe me any thanks,” he said. “I came to your apartment selfishly that night. I came to kill him—I didn’t come to save you.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But you changed your mind, and that saved my life. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You already have.” Grey stood. “Can I walk you back?”
“But—”
“I just needed some company.” He hesitated, knelt before the flowers and picked up a halfway wilted rose. He tossed it into the stream and we both watched as it sailed away. “I needed help to say goodbye to her.”
We began the trek through The Depth back toward my house. Our walk hadn’t lasted more than an hour, but it had felt like a lifetime. When we arrived at the pizzeria, he reached toward my chin and tilted it upward. He looked directly into my eyes, and gave a sad, heartbreaking smile. “See you around, Detective.”
Then he was gone, into the night.
MATTHEW STOPPED IN his tracks outside of the pizzeria, his eyes adjusting as he watched the wolf and Dani standing together on the front stoop. When Grey reached for Dani’s chin and looked into her eyes, fury burned through Matthew. The vampire’s fists clenched with enough power to crush rocks to dust.
Matthew forced himself to take a deep breath and duck into the shadows as rage boiled through him. He forced himself to be calm, to remember that he was neither dating Dani, nor did he have a claim to her. He’d broken things off. She’d had another relationship after him.
And, more importantly, the werewolf truly cared about her. Grey had gone into Dani’s apartment to tear the head off the man who’d murdered his girlfriend, and instead he’d let the killer go in order to save Dani’s life. Matthew knew Dani hadn’t been hallucinating.
After Dani’s recollection of the night, Matthew had been forced to remember the events differently. The soft thump of a pawprint on the fire escape, the light fur that he’d found on her body. Matthew hadn’t gotten there in time to save Danielle’s life, but the wolf h
ad—and for that, he was both bitter and grateful.
Matthew thanked his lucky stars that Grey didn’t kiss Dani on the stoop. She didn’t seem inclined romantically toward the wolf at all, though Matthew wondered if he’d read the scene all wrong. If anything, there was a melancholy tone to their touches, the look of loss that Matthew knew too well.
After all, when one lived for centuries, one said goodbye to many dear friends and family. Until one learned that being alone was the only way to stay sane. If the wolf hadn’t learned that yet, he would soon enough. The realization hurt, Matthew knew.
He almost felt sympathy for Grey. At least, until Danielle closed the door behind her and Grey turned directly to face Matthew. If Matthew would’ve had a pulse, it’d have stopped cold. Of course the wolf had sensed him. Matthew wondered if Grey had been toying with him, putting on a show. Or if it was quite the contrary, and he’d backed away in a grudging form of respect?
Grey marched directly toward the vampire. He only stopped when they were a few feet apart. The torchlight gleamed above them, burning, licking into the night. King and Grey faced off underneath it, shadows dancing across their faces.
“Is she yours?” Grey asked, and Matthew understood.
He didn’t owe the wolf an answer, so he stood perfectly still and simply waited.
Grey ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired, but Matthew knew he was no better—probably ragged with despair.
“I’m not going after her,” Grey said, his voice low and even. “I loved Lorraine, and I’m not ready to move on.”
“But?” Matthew raised an eyebrow.
“But if she’s yours, you’d better claim her.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then under different circumstances, that—” he tilted his head back toward the scene at the door—“would’ve ended differently.”
Grey moved away from the vampire, neither threatening nor friendly. Matter of fact, as if there were some mutual respect they had for one another—a line they wouldn’t cross because of Dani.
Matthew was fueled by frustration as he moved toward the pizzeria and left the wolf behind. Grey wasn’t a typical shifter werewolf. The scent was all wrong, something Matthew hadn’t noticed in a shifter bar where the smell of werewolf permeated everything. What is he, then? Matthew wondered. And what does he want?
As Matthew reached the front door to the pizza parlor, his mind was churning. He knew he had one thing working on his side. Dani wasn’t over him. He knew that from their kiss at the hospital, from the way she looked at him. From the way they simply existed around one another.
Still, Matthew was upset enough that he fumed right past the front door lock, picking it quickly with the nails that descended into claws. He normally kept them retracted at all times unless he was alone. It creeped people out otherwise, and he couldn’t blame them.
Matthew climbed the stairs and raised a hand to knock on the door to Dani’s apartment, pausing to listen. It sounded like she had company.
“Carl, give me the damn pen!” she barked. “You have my complete collection now. That’s ridiculous! You’re a couch.”
There was a loud belching sound, and Matthew realized she was having a chat with her annoying furniture. Matthew raised a hand and knocked.
“Matthew!” Dani looked surprised to see him as she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
She hadn’t changed out of the jeans or the red tank top—blood red, he noticed—but she’d thrown the leather jacket over Marla.
“Well hello, hunk,” the coatrack purred to the vampire. “Can I take your coat, sexy?”
Matthew ignored her and stepped inside. “I have to tell you—”
“Listen!” Dani’s eyes beamed bright. “I was out walking tonight with Grey, and my mind was wandering. I thought of something, and sure enough...I think I have a clue.”
“A clue?”
“Yes, look!” She beckoned Matthew over to the coffee table where she knelt on the floor before it. “Stupid pen. Carl, I need another. You gave me a dud.”
Carl coughed this time, and a pen flew from his cushions and landed on the table.
“Hey, Carl,” Matthew said. The vampire and Carl had an awkward relationship. “Good to see you again.”
“This isn’t a letter of resignation.” Excitedly, Dani pulled the crumpled letter from Lucia closer. Matthew had forgotten to take it back. “It’s a cry for help.”
“A cry for help? I don’t know, Dani—Lucia just left. She’s not interested in...” He trailed off and watched as Dani waved a hand over the sheet of paper.
Her hand glowed, illuminating the words there. “It’s vague, but I think it’s on purpose. She’s smart—really smart, and I trained her myself. I know she’s resourceful. I thought about what I might do, and if I were held against my will, I’d be trying everything I could to get out. Look here. She double traced some of the letters. They’re just slightly off, but there’s a pattern.”
Dear Matthew,
Unfortunately, I have opted for early retirement from the NYPD. Please consider this my formal resignation.
Lucia Livingston
“Help me?” he murmured, sounding out the bolded letters. “But this would mean...”
“She’s been kidnapped!”
Matthew blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I have to get going. I’m calling in the chief on this one—too much time has passed already.”
“But she’s still alive.” Dani stood. “This is recent. Her captor must want something. I have no clue what, but we need to find her.”
“We?”
“I know, I’m retired.” She gave a tremendous sigh. “I’ll stay out of your hair, but don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it. Okay, King?”
Matthew reached into his coat and removed a long, thin, enchanted metal box that had been weighing him down for hours now. As he tossed it on the table, he watched Dani’s eyes grow to the size of saucers as she read the name stamped on the exterior.
“Twenty-four hours,” he said, “and then they’re gone for good.”
Matthew left, his mind spinning with the outcome from the night. A fellow officer was missing. He’d handed over The Hex Files to Dani—a collection of information that might get her killed. He’d been warned by a werewolf to sort things out with her, or else.
As Matthew moved with lightning speed back to the station, he realized with relief that he had one huge advantage over Grey. Matthew knew her. He understood Dani. They’d been together enough to know the other inside and out.
Matthew couldn’t help but smile as he thought of the detective’s independent streak. If he knew one thing for certain, it was that Danielle DeMarco wasn’t a woman for the taking, as Grey had insinuated. Dani was an equal partner who made her own decisions.
By the time Matthew reached the station, his focus had shifted back to the files waiting inside the metal box staring up at his mate on the coffee table. The ones she’d so desperately desired; the ones that could get her killed.
Blood had been spilled before over The Hex Files, and if they were reopened, it would happen again. He closed his eyes, hoped Dani would do the right thing, and stepped into his boss’s office.
“Chief,” he said. “We have a problem.”
THE END
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed spending some time in Wicked! If this is your first foray into the Wicked universe, I’m excited to let you know there’s another series already available on Amazon set on The Isle. It features a different set of characters, but it is based in the same world. Feel free to give it a try! The title of book one is HEX ON THE BEACH by Gina LaManna.
If you’d like to read more about Matthew King and Dani DeMarco, good news! Book two, THE HEX FILES: Wicked Long Nights is available for order on Amazon now! Click HERE to read a synopsis.
To be notified of new releases, please sign up for my newsletter at www.ginalamanna.com.
T
hank you for reading!
Gina
Now for a thank you...
To all my readers, especially those of you who have stuck with me from the beginning.
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List of Gina's Books!
Gina LaManna is the USA TODAY bestselling author of the Magic & Mixology series, the Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries, The Little Things romantic suspense series, and the Misty Newman books.
List of Gina LaManna’s other books:
The Hex Files:
Wicked Never Sleeps
Wicked Long Nights
Lola Pink Mystery Series:
Shades of Pink
Shades of Stars
Shades of Sunshine
Magic & Mixology Mysteries:
Hex on the Beach
Witchy Sour
Jinx & Tonic
Long Isle Iced Tea
Amuletto Kiss
MAGIC, Inc. Mysteries:
The Undercover Witch
Spellbooks & Spies (short story)
Reading Order for Lacey Luzzi:
Lacey Luzzi: Scooped
Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled
Lacey Luzzi: Sparkled
Lacey Luzzi: Salted
Lacey Luzzi: Sauced
Lacey Luzzi: S'mored
Lacey Luzzi: Spooked
Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned
Lacey Luzzi: Spiced
Lacey Luzzi: Suckered
Lacey Luzzi: Sprouted
The Little Things Mystery Series:
One Little Wish
Two Little Lies
Misty Newman: