by Tegan Maher
Colin, Blake, and Ari gathered around me as I hit play, but Cyri and Aiden stood back. Sure enough, Andromeda and the man crossed into the video, but their backs were to the camera. I huffed out a breath when I realized we weren’t going to get a shot of his face. Just like in the video from the lobby, he was wearing a ball cap.
I was just about to hand the phone back to her when he motioned with his hand and the sun glinted off a ring. I stopped the video and zoomed in because something about it was familiar. I stopped it when I saw the flashy ring on the man’s pinky finger.
“I know who it is!” I said. “Cyri, look!”
She skipped over to me and looked at the screen. It took her a few seconds, but when she glanced up at me, her eyes were wide. “Surfer dude! Do you remember his name?”
I handed the phone back to Tethra and put my hands on my forehead. I hadn’t paid much attention at the time because I’d had enough. “It started with a D.”
“Yes!” she said. “His last name made me think of a donkey ... Neigh? No ... Bray!”
“Damien Bray!” I exclaimed.
“Are you sure?” Blake asked, already striding up the beach toward the tiki.
“Positive,” we said.
“He didn’t seem very bright though,” Ciri said, forehead crinkled and doubt lacing her tone.
“If you had to be smart to kill people, we’d probably have a lot fewer murders,” Ari said. “You’d be surprised what people kill each other over, and it’s not exactly rocket science.”
“Yeah, but he’d have to know about poisons,” I pointed out.
Colin rolled his eyes and shook his phone. “Hey, Google.”
I wobbled my head back and forth. He had a point. And I already knew you could get pretty much whatever you wanted in Abbadon’s Gate if you had the right connections and a fat enough wallet.
“He said he was only applying for the job because his dad made him,” I said. “So he probably had the cash to buy the berries.”
Blake laughed. “What? He applied for the manager’s job? Or as a server or bartender?”
“The manager’s job,” I said, scowling at him. “That’s par for the course for what I’ve been getting, though. You should know the resumes you’ve sent me are garbage.”
Ari shook his head. “You know there’s a solution to that, right?”
I sent him a glance that would have melted glass. “Yeah, and I’m not taking the job. I make more as a bartender/server and don’t have the hassle.”
He was quiet for a few moments as we hurried toward the tiki. “What if we split the manager’s salary between you and Bob and you just kept your floor jobs?”
I whipped my head toward him. “Say what?”
The manager’s position was nothing to sneeze at.
“You heard me. We’re offering what—forty grand for a qualified manager with experience, plus bonuses?”
“Something like that,” I said, lifting a shoulder. I hadn’t seen a dime of that, and I wasn’t the money woman. That would all be determined once we found a qualified candidate and adjusted the money based on their experience.
“Then if you and Bob are willing, we’ll divvy it up. You share the position like you’ve been doing.”
“I’ve thought of that, too,” Blake said, “but she fusses so much about doing it that I didn’t think she’d go for it.”
“I didn’t realize that was an option,” I said. “I thought it was either keep doing it the way we are or give up my position to take the manager’s slot.”
“We sorta planned it that way, but we haven’t exactly had the best luck, have we?” Ari said. “Think about it. Talk to Bob.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling a little better about it. I didn’t mind doing the work if I was going to get paid for it, and I had no doubt Bob wouldn’t sneeze at an extra twenty grand a year, either.
That was all well and good, but first, we had to catch a murderer.
Chapter 15
We shot straight through the tiki to the office, and Blake slid around the desk and plopped down at the computer. With a few keystrokes, he was into the registry.
After a few seconds, his face lit up. “Here he is. And sure enough, registered under his father’s name.” He scrolled down the page. “This is the first time he’s ever been here, so there’s no way you would have recognized him.”
He pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and rattled off a couple of codes. I didn’t know what they were, exactly. I had a cheat-sheet for when I had to stand in for him, but the only ones I knew by heart were ones related directly to the restaurant. Rowdy guests, Gorgons threatening to take off their turbans and turn people to stone, unicorns turning into mean drunks and threatening to shank people with their horns. Just average bar-emergency stuff.
“They’re getting him now and taking him to my office,” Blake said.
“Do you think that was such a good idea?” Cyri asked. “I mean, I know your security guys are good, but are they good enough to win that fight if he draws down on them magically?”
I flapped my hand at her as we rushed out of the office and turned the corner to go to the main resort. “Trust me—his guys are plenty good.”
As I said that, a big plume of smoke shot from the rooftop of the resort. We were still a bit away, but there was no question what it was: a magical battle.
“Looks like he decided to test them,” Aiden said. “I hope they’re as good as you say they are.”
“Stop,” I said, and everybody did. I put my hand out. “Everybody huddle in. We don’t have time to stroll all the way there.”
“I’ll meet you up there,” Blake said. “You may need the magical juice in a bit.”
“Me too,” Ari said, then disappeared.
This was one of those times when it was a PITA that nobody but Blake and I—and Ari and Tempest—could teleport on the property, but overall, it was a good rule. Once everybody had a hand on top of mine, I scrunched my eyes shut and concentrated on the rooftop. Two seconds later, we were standing at the top of the stairwell that led to it. I’d figured it wouldn’t have been the brightest thing to port us to the roof without knowing what was going on.
“Ready?” Cyri, who was closest to the door asked, and we all nodded. I pulled my magic to my fingertips, ready for anything.
Or at least I thought I was ready for anything. When I stepped out, Damien was on top of one of the AC units wearing nothing but a towel. The security guys were hunkered behind another bank of units, popping up from behind the cover long enough to fire a shot or two off.
“Jeez,” I said, cringing as Damien’s towel dropped. “I’m startin’ to think the extra twenty grand isn’t worth all this.”
Ari, who was taking cover behind a giant lightning rod, grinned at me. “Fine. Make it thirty.”
My brows shot up so fast it’s a wonder I didn’t fling them clear off my face.
“That is, if you can catch this guy,” he said, shooting me a wink.
“Easy, peasy,” I said, pushing into the guy’s line of vision.
“Sleep!” I bellowed, releasing a hot wave of magic as I did. Damien dropped like a stone. Even though the roof was asphalt and I knew he was gonna get scuffed up, I didn’t try to catch him. Heck with that, he murdered somebody. A couple booboos wouldn’t kill him.
Chapter 16
It turns out that Damien did murder her. It took a heavy dose of angel truth serum for him to admit it, but he eventually spilled the beans. It wasn’t even an original motive, which was a bit of a let-down, but not particularly surprising. He was Andromeda’s half-brother, and she’d refused to cut him in when he’d figured out what she was doing.
The surprising part was that she was stinking rich. She only did it for the kicks. Like the good daughter, she’d gone to culinary school and had built a magical cupcake empire, then sold the whole shebang for a sum big enough to keep her in Coach bags and Loubitans for the rest of her life. Damien, on the other hand, was right on the cu
sp of getting the old heave-ho from Daddy Sawbucks because he refused to lift a finger to earn his keep.
Damien had asked nicely—translate, he threatened to rat her out to Dad—to be cut in, but when she’d refused, he’d put in enough work to figure out where she kept the stash, then killed her.
I was glad we’d solved it because that meant I had my weekend free. Like most workaholics, though, I did go in to do the morning opening stuff, but Bob had beaten me to it.
“So,” I said to Bob as he, Colin and I chilled out and had a rare fruity drink together, “guess what Ari offered us.”
He arched a furry brow at me. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“He wants us to keep doing it this way. Make it official. Split the manager’s duties.”
The other brow joined the first one at the top of his forehead. “I sure hope you told him exactly what he could do with that suggestion. Nicely, of course, seein’ as how he’s our boss and an angel that can kill you with a glance.”
“Actually, I told him I’d talk to you,” I said, popping a maraschino cherry in my mouth. “He wants us to split the salary. Thirty grand a year each.” He’d held to his word when I’d captured Damien.
“Say what, now?” he asked. “For real?”
“For real,” Colin said, nodding as he leaned back in his chair. “I was there. I heard the whole thing.”
Bob leaned back and studied me for a minute. “What do you think we should do?”
Dimitri, who’d been cutting oranges in front of us, spoke up. “I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna take the extra cash and keep everything exactly the way it is around here. I’m not a fan of new people and I don’t want to have to adapt my style to a new set of rules. Suck it up and take one for the team, both of you.”
I reached out and snapped his suspender against his bare chest. “You only want us to do that because you’re afraid you’ll start having to wear a uniform.”
“Says the witch who owns nothing besides ratty cutoff shorts,” He said, eyebrow arched. He made a good point.
“I’m down,” I said with a shrug.
Bob thought about it for a minute, then gave a slow nod. “Me too. Jolene would kill me if I turned down that kind of cabbage, especially considerin’ I don’t have to do anything I’m not already doin’.”
“That’s what I figured, too.”
We sipped in silence for a while, and I watched as a few faerie kids played tag with their giant counterparts in the surf. Witches, werewolves, giants, faeries, unicorns, gorgons ... my life was filled with a diverse array of people who made it both interesting and better, and I got to spend it at the most beautiful place on earth, as far as I was concerned.
As the sea breeze ruffled my hair and the sunshine kissed my face, I realized once again that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and I was grateful.
Author’s Note
Thank you for joining yet another adventure on the Enchanted Coast. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, if you have any questions or would just like to drop me a line to say hello, I’d love to hear from you. Book 5, Murder in the Mangroves, is available now for preorder in your Amazon store! Just follow the link at the end of this book.
In the meantime, if you haven’t read my Cori Sloane series, I invite you to do so now. I think you’ll love it, and I’m including the first couple chapters here, so keep reading!
HOWLING FOR REVENGE
PROLOGUE
I JOGGED ALONG THE stream, reveling in that peaceful, early-morning stillness that only lasts until the rest of the world stirs. I picked up my pace a little as I followed the sun-dappled path around the tree line, enjoying the brush of the cool breeze along my skin as it dried the fine sheen of sweat from my body. The only sound beside the birdsong was my heart beating in tempo with the soft, steady thud of my sneakers against the asphalt.
I sucked in a lungful of air, inhaling the fragrance of the early morning. The damp, earthy scent drifting from the stand of trees overshadowed the stench of humanity, and night-blooming jasmine sweetened the air, masking the lingering odors of fast-food wrappers and cheap perfumes.
I slowed as I neared the end of the trail then stopped, placing my hands on my knees as my heart rate slowed and my breathing returned to normal.
As always, tendrils of regret wound through me at the thought of leaving the peace and getting back to the grind. I propped my foot against a picnic table and leaned into a stretch, feeling a little euphoric as I did so. The endorphins flooding my brain were more addictive than any drug, which was the main reason I ran daily, rain or shine, in either this form or my other.
The wind shifted and I picked up a coppery, cloying odor that was as out of place in my little slice of heaven as a Ferrari in a trailer park. Dread trickled down my spine and I put my nose in the air, grinding my teeth as I searched for the source.
I picked it up and followed it, the stench getting stronger as I approached the road that ran parallel to the small strip of forest that separated it from the trail. My heart sank. A small white hand lay in the grass, palm up, about ten feet from the side of the road. Glossy red fingernail polish gleaming in stark relief against the dull, gray skin of the fingers.
My gaze traveled up the hand to the mangled body of a woman, her platinum hair covering her face, hiding her identity. I pulled my cell from my armband and called 911.
“Hey, Kay,” I said when Castle’s Bluff’s one dispatcher picked up. “This is Cori. I need an ambulance out on Route 6 by the park, and keep it as hush-hush as you can, please. We have another dead body.”
CHAPTER ONE
My next call was to my second in command, Sam Cassidy, who said he’d call the coroner and meet me there in ten minutes.
I examined the scene while I waited, using my heightened sense of smell to pick apart the different scents in hopes of finding some clue to the identity of the killer. Sometimes being a werewolf came in handy, but it wasn’t doing me a lick of good right then.
All I could detect was the same strange wolf scent that I’d gotten from the other scene. Like fingerprints, it would help if I came across the killer, but for the moment, it was useless. All I could tell for certain was that he was male, and wasn’t a member of my pack.
Exactly ten minutes later, a beat-up truck pulled off into a wide spot across the road from me and a grizzled man climbed out the driver’s side, followed by a shorter, younger guy I’d known since grade school.
Sam strode across the road, a slight hitch in his step and a scowl on his leathery face. My mind shifted from the murder to the man I’d looked up to since I was a little girl.
Even though I was his boss, he still saw me as a little girl if things got real. Of course, until the murders, "getting real" usually involved a drunk tourist getting handsy when I'd have to haul him out of the Hook, our local dive bar. Even with—or more likely because of—the confluence of supernatural beings in Castle's Bluff, things like murder just didn't happen. Until then, anyway.
“Cordelia,” he said, nodding at me as he strode toward the body. Though he tried not to show it, I knew he was worried about me; it was the only time he defaulted to my given name. I drew my brows together, but didn’t say anything.
Stan Lee, the younger man, took off his hat and mopped the sweat from his forehead with a bandana he pulled from the shirt pocket of his deputy’s uniform. Though it was late in the summer, the humidity still made the air thick as the Georgia mud our state was known for.
Despite his best efforts, his gaze inadvertently dropped to my chest; my snug tank top was still damp with sweat. I whacked him on the arm and glowered at him.
His face went beet red and he snapped his eyes back to my face. “Sorry, Cor—Sheriff,” he stuttered.
I cut him some slack because I knew he’d had a crush on me since the seventh grade, and he was a good guy with a huge heart. He looked around me, trying to put on his cop face, but turned green when
he caught his first glimpse. I couldn’t blame him; I wasn’t feeling so peachy myself.
Sam was standing back a few feet from the body, one arm crossed over his chest, the elbow of the other resting on it. He rubbed his chin, his gaze roaming over the scene, taking in the body and the mish-mash of huge paw prints surrounding it.
“You pick up anything?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nothin’ other than what I got from the last scene.”
A breeze fluttered through, and I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, behind the body. Squinting to get a better view, I stepped closer to the body. A clump of black fur clung to a broken branch.
“Do you have an evidence bag on you?” I asked, a little thrill running through me; this time, he’d left evidence. I moved around the body to avoid disturbing the scene.
Sam reached into a small pouch on his gunbelt and pulled out a clear baggie, passing it to me over the weeds.
I placed my hand on the bottom and pushed it back over my fingers like it was a glove, then pulled the clump of fur off the branch. Holding onto it, I peeled the bag back over my fingers and sealed it.
When I held it up to the light for a better look, a few white hairs glinted through the black. Not enough to alter the color of the wolf, probably, but it would give me something to compare it to if—when—I caught the guy. Maybe before, but I doubted it since black wolves were common in our region.
Still, if I could match it to somebody who’d been acting erratically or couldn’t vouch for their whereabouts during the times of the murders, it could be a nail in the coffin.
I turned to Stan. “Would you mind running crime-scene tape around this area,” I asked, motioning to where I wanted it.
He nodded, glad to have something to do that didn’t involve dealing directly with the body, and turned toward Sam’s truck to get the tape out of the box of supplies he kept there.