by Krista Walsh
Eliza was silent, but Daphne sensed irritation that someone should demand her boss’s time without an appointment. “I’ll put you through to him.”
Classical music came down the line, and a moment later, Charles’s brusque notes replaced it. “Ms. Crayle?”
“Good morning, sir. I apologize for interrupting your busy schedule, but we need to complete an inspection in order to update your insurance policy. I’m sure you’re aware that the recent tragedy of the young man’s death will affect your premiums.”
Daphne smirked, imagining Charles’s irritation that Peony House should cost him one more inconvenience.
“Of course,” he said. “I’m sure I have an hour available later next week.”
“I’m afraid it will need to be today, sir,” she said. “Otherwise, the policy may be considered invalid.”
She heard him puff out a breath, but he said, “Very well. I can be available at noon.”
“That would be perfect, Mr. Ancowitz. We’ll meet at the hospital at noon. Have a good morning.”
He hung up first, and Daphne, her heart pumping with nerves and anticipation, went downstairs for breakfast.
When she stepped into her mother and grandmother’s apartment, she halted, stunned to find Hunter sitting in the comfy chair in the middle of the living room. A cup of tea sat on the table beside him, and Benji was perched on his lap, taking up most of the space. Someone had been wise enough to lay a blanket over Hunter’s gray suit, but otherwise, both man and cat looked perfectly at home. The morning sun shining over the back of the chair caught his auburn hair, the gold highlights glittering over the green in his hazel eyes. She’d interrupted him mid-laugh, and a smile lingered around his lips and in the corners of his eyes.
On the couch beside the chair, Emmett was showing off his quick fingers with Evelyn’s wallet. Her hands were clasped together in delight. Emmett appeared to be feeling better, but Daphne noticed the tremor in his hands, and his eyes were still bloodshot and ringed with dark circles.
The three of them turned to Daphne on her entrance, and Hunter grinned. “So she finally emerges from her dark and dank lair. You look…better than you did last night.” He stroked Benji’s mane and the cat purred, his blue eyes drooping.
Daphne glared at her mother, who had just come out of the kitchen bearing a tray of warm apple strudel. Apparently Cheryl had shared her opinion about Daphne looking like the creature from the Black Lagoon.
“I thought we were meeting at Peony House,” she said.
Hunter smiled and accepted an offered strudel. “After last night, you still probably shouldn’t be driving, so I thought I would play chauffeur.”
“And your better half?” she asked.
“She’ll go straight to the hospital. Besides, I thought it was about time I met the family of my career’s greatest burden.”
“Long past time,” Cheryl agreed, casting a glance over Hunter’s head at Daphne. Her expression was so clear that Daphne could read every single one of her mother’s thoughts — thoughts that included a white dress and babies and a steady, normal life for her daughter.
Daphne rolled her eyes and moved closer to Emmett to grab one of the strudels off the plate.
“Have you spoken to our local demon?” Hunter asked, and there was no irony in his voice. Apparently he’d decided that if he were going to believe her, he would jump in with both feet. The realization left Daphne with a warm sensation in her belly.
“I did. He’ll meet us at the hospital at noon. Or, to be more specific, he’s meeting Sophia Crayle, insurance adjuster, at the hospital at noon.”
Hunter meditated on his bite of strudel, his gaze locked on hers, and said nothing.
“You’ll get him, right?” Emmett asked Daphne, his expression hard. “You’ll get him for Jack’s murder?”
She took his hand and squeezed his thin fingers. “We’ll get him.” She smiled and nudged his shoulder with her hip. “There’s too much at stake not to wrap this up. Detective Avery has justice to uphold, and I have a Pulitzer to win.”
20
Emmett begged to accompany them, but his was the minority vote. Everyone else in the room encouraged him to stay put, get some rest, and finish off the plate of strudel. Daphne promised him a full account when she returned.
He sulked and sagged into the cushions. Benji abandoned Hunter’s lap for Emmett’s, and between the smell of strudel and the warmth of the purring cat, he looked like he would soon resign himself to the couch.
In the car on the way to Peony House, Daphne pulled the collar up on her jacket and kept her fingers in the sunlight to warm them. Her magic buzzed deep in her core, tempting her to draw on it to heat herself up and get an energy boost, but she refrained. Her resources were slim, and she wanted to make sure she had enough power to protect herself and the others. The spirits of the Morgrin demons had been strong — she had no idea if she could handle Crispy again if Charles changed form.
Hunter remained focused on the road, and the silence between them made her uncomfortable. She didn’t know what worried her — maybe that in the silence he would decide he shouldn’t be helping his former nemesis after all — but she wracked her brain trying to come up with something to say to get him talking.
“What did you tell the paramedics last night?”
He glanced at her. “Not as much as I should have. One night of following your lead, and I’m already breaking protocol.”
She winced, then noticed the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
“I told them I went to the hospital to do one last tour of the crime scene and make sure we hadn’t missed anything. That I saw the caretaker’s car and found him inside, dead of a heart attack.”
Daphne knew it was for the best, but still regretted that Harold wouldn’t receive any public accolades.
She heard Hunter call her name and realized he’d just asked her a question.
“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m still out of it.”
“That’s all right.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “Understandable, all things considered. I can’t say I got much sleep last night. I was asking about Emmett, about what you think I should do with him after this case is closed.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her attention now fully in the car. After everything Hunter had heard and seen the night before, she was surprised that this was his line of thought. “Why would you do anything with him?”
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “He’s seventeen years old, so technically still a minor. I’m not going to call him on that because by the time all the paperwork went through, he’d probably be of age, so there’s no point. But he is a pickpocket. I don’t know if he told you already, but he sells stolen goods, mainly jewelry, through one of the local fences, amounting to tens of thousands of dollars a year. His reputation precedes him in certain circles as one of the best in the city, but the poor kid doesn’t even get to keep all the cash — just enough to get him food, smokes, and an occasional place to stay. The rest he turns over to a woman we can’t pin down long enough to charge. In my experience, kids in that position aren’t happy to stay there long. They fall deeper into the community. Work harder to build themselves up. It rarely ends well.”
She hated the image he was painting.
“He seems like a nice kid,” he continued. “He’s been on the street for a while, but it hasn’t hardened him. Yet. He came to you and he trusts you, so it might be worth talking to him about what he wants to do with his life. Maybe we can find a way to help.”
Daphne shifted in her seat, thinking about how Hunter saw the worst of humanity as a regular part of his job, but still had enough of a heart to care about someone he hardly knew.
He raised a shoulder and glanced down a side street as he rounded a corner. “I guess he just touched on a nerve. Seeing him last night, thin as a rake and with nowhere to go, reminded me of when I went to talk to Jack’s family. He was seventeen years old, too. Still just a
kid, living on the streets since he was twelve. He had a hell of a family. Breaking the news to his parents was like telling a pair of absolute strangers that someone in another country had died. They didn’t care. Dad was too drunk to even look at me, and Mom was too busy carrying on with three other screaming children, none of them older than ten. I put in a call to Children’s Services, but who knows if they’ll get there in time to save the rest of the generation from going down the same road as their brother.”
His brow knitted together, and he beat his palm against the steering wheel. “This whole case is messed up. And now it turns out the only reason he’s dead is because of some bad luck that he went to the hospital that night. Makes it even more pointless.”
Daphne eyed him, amazed that he’d taken down the wall between them enough to show her the heart behind the badge. Either their experience last night had changed things, or this case really had hit him hard.
“You are a decent human being, Hunter Avery,” she said. “It’s not often I get to say that to a cop.”
He smiled. “And you’re not quite as horrible a human being as I thought you were. I never thought I’d be able to say that.” He glanced at her. “Hoped, but never believed it.”
Daphne blushed, warmed inside and out. “I’ll talk to Emmett. Thank you.”
The silence fell again, but this time it didn’t feel as oppressive. After a few minutes of comfortable quiet, Daphne geared the conversation toward the one subject she sensed he was trying to avoid.
“So in all of your not sleeping last night, did you come up with any questions you want to ask me? I’m sure you have a lot.”
He’d taken the whole revelation about his world being filled with supernatural beings stoically while at the hospital, but she guessed his reaction had covered up a whirlwind of thoughts that he might have sorted out after he left her.
“Thousands,” he said. “But none I’ve figured out how to ask.”
“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be around,” she said.
He turned the car onto Priestley Street, and the hospital loomed over everything else at the end of the cul-de-sac. A silver Mercedes was parked outside. Daphne’s heart jumped at the sight of it, the reality of her situation becoming more real now that she was here.
She was confronting a demon that had tried to kill her, that had already killed Jack and who knew how many others.
Her throat tightened, and she swallowed her rising panic.
You’re not going into this blind. You know you can protect yourself if you need to.
“I guess this is it,” Hunter said. “Are you ready?”
She dipped into her magic and it responded, sluggish but strong.
“Sure am. You?”
Hunter grimaced. “I have no idea. But I’ll follow your lead.”
Daphne looked in the side mirror, but the street was empty. “Meg’s not here yet?”
“I told her to park on the service road just in case. I’ll go behind the house and meet her there, and we’ll come in through the back door. You won’t be on your own for long, but we’ll stay out of sight until you need us.”
She nodded and opened the door. She moved to get out, but stopped when Hunter rested his hand over hers. He met her gaze and said, “Be careful in there, all right? You have a better idea of what he is than I do, but the state you were in last night tells me he’ll be strong.”
Daphne forced her shaking lips into a smile. “Last night I took down a whole army. I’m sure a single soldier won’t be so bad.”
She didn’t point out that last night she’d had help.
They both got out of the car, and as she opened the door, a shouting match drifted toward them from inside the hospital.
“Sounds like we have an unexpected guest,” said Hunter. “What do you want to do?”
Daphne swallowed hard and forced a breath through her nose. “We’ll stick with the plan. Maybe he won’t be so quick to turn if there’s someone else there.”
The corners of Hunter’s eyes pulled down with uncertainty. “If you’re sure.” Daphne nodded, and he brushed his fingers over the gun at his hip. “Then I’ll see you in there.”
He disappeared around the side of the house, and Daphne started toward the front doors.
“…they know?”
“Well, I didn’t say anything, Charles, so don’t put this on me. Not this time. All I wanted was to keep this place open. You were the one fighting against me.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. It seemed Charles had brought Laura for company.
She pushed the front door open and saw the arguing pair at the far end of the lobby, in the middle of the reception area. Daphne looked for any traces of shimmering memories, but the space was empty except for Charles and Laura. The energy that had kept the imprints strong had been destroyed when the demons were, and the house felt lighter for its absence.
She cleared her throat to get the siblings’ attention, and the two fell away from each other.
Laura’s gaze jumped to Daphne, and a bright smile lit up her pale, delicate features. The soft colors of her casual T-shirt and trousers gave her a diminutive appearance, intensified by her brother’s wider frame and more formal dress code. He glowered and crossed his arms over his large stomach, his expensive suit creasing across his chest. His neatly trimmed mustache flared with his irritated huff.
“You? What are you doing here?”
“And what did you do to yourself, you poor dear?” Laura asked, pointing to her own cheek to indicate the bruise around Daphne’s eye.
Apparently, Charles didn’t care to hear about how she’d received her injuries. “I was informed you were warned to stay away from me.”
“I was,” Daphne agreed. “But the situation has changed.”
“I’m here for an appointment. Not to see you.”
“That’s right. You’re here to meet Sophia Crayle.” She adopted the voice she’d used that morning, and Charles’s round face turned red.
“That is enough,” he snapped. “I’m laying charges for harassment. I refuse to be badgered by an incompetent journalist.”
“Charles,” Laura admonished. She laid her hand on her brother’s arm to hold him back. The dryness in her voice belied the smile stretched across her lips, and the corners of her eyes creased with displeasure. “Miss Heartstone must have her reasons. Have you learned anything new about the murder?”
“I have,” Daphne said. “Although I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I stopped in to see Charles this morning. He mentioned he was coming here, so I thought I’d come along.” She frowned. “I’m glad now that I did since my brother needs a minder in order to be polite. What have you learned?”
“I’m also surprised to hear you came back for a visit of your own the night before last,” Daphne said to Charles. Laura’s question hung in the air, but Daphne had too many questions of her own to start answering theirs. “Wanted to see if anyone else was trespassing on your property?”
Doing your grocery shopping?
“I had every right to be here,” Charles replied. “That young man I spotted creeping around did not. He’s lucky I didn’t telephone the police to hunt him down.”
“What brought you here in the middle of the night?”
He glanced toward Laura and his jaw tensed, but he didn’t answer. Daphne stepped closer and sensed Charles’s red magic coming off of him in waves. She also sensed the same green energy that had crawled inside her veins, tearing her apart at the seams. If she’d had any doubts her suspicions were correct, they disappeared.
Apparently she’d made him angry enough to reveal himself.
“Ever since I came across a body here a week ago, with a terrified expression and a mouth that was glued shut with saliva, I’ve been doing some digging into the history of Peony House and the Ancowitz family,” she said. “Your bloodline didn’t have much genetic luck, did it? That streak of madness running down the line, never skipping a generation.”
“No, I want to hear what she’s learned,” Laura said. She squeezed her hands at her sides and stood her ground, looking solid for someone so small and fragile. “You’re right, Miss Heartstone, we’ve not had good luck, but I don’t see how that’s relevant to a murder investigation. Our brother, Todd, stepped into oncoming traffic when he was twenty-three because of his mental illness. Something Charles and I were there to witness and still regret.”
She looked up at her brother, and Charles glared back at her, his teeth clenched and his jaw working. A hint of red swirled in his dark irises. Daphne guessed there was more to the story than Laura let on.
“It’s not really madness though, is it?” Daphne asked, a slight smile touching on her lips as she sensed their increasing unease. “If I said the word ‘demon,’ what would come to mind?”
A flare of fear from one of them shifted the atmosphere of the room. The demonic energy grew stronger, and Daphne’s magic rose in response. She reined it in, but held it close.
“I’d think you were living out of your time,” said Charles. “People haven’t believed in demons since the Dark Ages. Science has taken care of that.”
“Science has made it more difficult to believe,” Daphne agreed. “But I think the three of us in this room accept that there’s more to life than what science has uncovered. Morgrin demons, specifically, have been around since time immemorial, even if they’re believed to be extinct. Nasty creatures, Morgrin demons, feeding on the emotions we give off and leaving their victims empty shells. That’s what happened to the victim here. You can try to deny it if you want, but your ancestors and I shared an enlightening encounter last night.”