Witch Hunter

by Shannon Curtis

  “Oh? No more spark?”

  “Oh, there were plenty of sparks,” Dave said, thinking of their power struggle on the beach. “I had this meeting all thought out in my head, and it didn’t go at all to plan.”

  Tyler chuckled. “Hell, been there. But you’re still here?” His expression was friendly, but Dave could see the interest in his eyes at figuring out the new stranger in town.

  Dave nodded. “Yeah. I thought I’d stay a couple of days. Hey, what’s with the diner? I went for breakfast, but it’s closed, even though the sign says it’s usually open today.”

  Tyler moved his now-empty bottle aside and reached for the new one. “Yeah, well, Lucy, the owner, isn’t well.”

  Dave’s eyes narrowed. He sensed there was more to that than the sheriff was letting on. The game on the TV hit a lull, with the teams changing over, and a news broadcast filled the ad break. Dave watched as the announcer read about the murder of a local woman. His arms muscles tightened when he saw a photo of the deceased woman. It was the elderly woman from his vision.

  The bartender sighed, then looked at the sheriff. “Mary Anne? What sick bastard would go after an elderly woman in her home?”

  Tyler nodded, his gaze flitting to the screen momentarily before dropping back down to the bottle of beer he held. “Well, Tony, you got the sick bastard part right.”

  Dave frowned. “Isn’t that the second murder in the area in what, a week?”

  Tony, the bartender, nodded. “Yeah. First one was her son.” He shook his head. “Seems like the family pissed off someone.”

  “So, the murders are related?” Dave asked casually.

  Tyler tilted his head to stare at him for a moment. “Yeah, looks that way.” He lifted his beer to his lips and drained the bottle, then stood. “Thanks for the beer.”

  Dave realized the sheriff was shutting down any further conversation on the topic. He smiled, masking his frustration. He knew the law weren’t supposed to talk about open cases, but he’d hoped he could make the sheriff crack.

  “Good luck with your investigation,” he said.

  Tyler hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. “We’re going to get this sick bastard,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting Dave’s. Dave’s eyes narrowed. Was that—was the sheriff warning him?

  Tyler pulled at the door and disappeared into the daylight.

  Dave turned back to the bar, his attention now on the bartender. “So, mother and son, huh?”

  Tony tore his gaze away from the game that had now resumed on the TV. His gaze flitted to the door, then around the bar, and then he nodded, folding his arms on the bar.

  “Yeah. Pretty sad. Gary was a great guy. Didn’t come in here all that often, wasn’t much of a drinker, but he was the kind of guy who’d always stop and say hi, or give you a hand if you needed one. He and Lucy were going to be married in June.”

  Dave winced. That woman was going to need some time to heal. He added her name to the list of folks affected by this witch’s actions. “And the mom?”

  Tony grimaced. “Well, I didn’t have too much to deal with her. She was a great crocheter, though. She’d make beanies for all the newborns at the hospital. My sister got one when her daughter was born. Meant a lot, to her, that kindness from a woman she barely knew.”

  Dave frowned. “It doesn’t sound like they were the kind of people to have any enemies.”

  Tony snorted as he straightened from the bar. “Nulls always have enemies.”

  Dave’s eyebrows rose. “They were nulls?”

  Tony looked at him, surprised. “Well, yeah. They’re all over the north end. That’s why we’re so into fishing, here. Tourism blows.”

  “Huh.” Dave drained his beer, than pulled some cash out of his wallet, placing it on the bar. “Thanks.”

  Tony nodded, picking up the cash and strolling over to the cashier. “Anytime.”

  Dave strolled to the door, then hesitated. “Say, do you know a Sullivan Timmerman?”

  Tony frowned. “Sully? Sure. Everyone knows Sully. Sweet lady.”

  “Uh, no, I mean another Sullivan Timmerman,” Dave clarified.

  Tony shook his head. “Nope. That would be weird.”

  Dave nodded. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

  He left the bar, and straddled his bike. He frowned as he gazed out at the tiny harbor. Nulls. Why the hell would a witch want to kill nulls? The very nature of a null meant that the witch’s powers were nullified in their presence. No werewolf could shift in their presence, no vampire could get their fangs on, no witches could cast spells...

  He kick-started his bike and eased open the throttle as he rode out of the parking lot. Maybe it had nothing to do with nulls, and everything to do with the victims?

  He needed to find out more about Gary and Mary Anne Adler.

  * * *

  Sully stood next to Jenny as the preacher gave his graveyard sermon. She glanced across the open grave to Lucy. The woman leaned heavily on Cheryl, her face streaked with tears and pale with exhaustion. Even from this distance, Sully could see the deep bruise on her chin and along her cheek. Cheryl had told her the previous day that Lucy had been attacked from behind and had fallen heavily on the wooden floor. She hadn’t seen her attacker, hadn’t witnessed Mary Anne’s murder, but had found the older woman’s body when she’d regained consciousness.

  Sully returned her gaze to the open grave, Gary Adler’s coffin poised above it. His mother would be interred at the end of the week, as her body was still at the county coroner’s, her autopsy only just recently completed.

  “This is so sad,” Jenny whispered. “A family wiped out.”

  Sully nodded. It was beyond sad, really. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  Jenny shrugged. “Depends which side of the fence you’re sitting on. Some of the older folk remember the Reformation, and what happened with us. They say it’s happening again.”

  Sully flicked a glance at her friend. “Seriously?”

  Jenny nodded, just once.

  Sully frowned as she watched Gary’s coffin lowered into the grave. The late afternoon was fiercely hot, and bottles of water had been handed out among the small crowd. The funeral directors had erected a tent, and Sully wasn’t sure whether it was better to stay under the tent and out of the sun, or to get some distance from all the hot, sweaty bodies and brave the furnace beyond the shade. And of course, everyone wore black.

  She glanced at Jenny. Her friend had a point. Nulls had experienced a varied history. On the one hand they were reviled by the shadow breeds. Any shifter or vampire, or even witch, was reduced to being powerless and vulnerable in the presence of a null, which meant ordinary humans had seen the benefit in protecting them, and using them as a barrier against the breeds. They lived in the gray area between natural and supernatural. Not quite a shadow breed, but not an ordinary human, either. As a result, they were hunted by the shadow breeds in well-planned, ruthless skirmishes. During Reformation, they were given no territory, being classed as a subcategory of the human race. As such, they were often not treated as equal to any other race, shadow breed or not. Some of the crimes that had been committed against them were horrific, but with the recognition of a new hybrid breed just outside Irondell, there was renewed action to also recognize nulls as a race of their own.

  In the meantime, no shadow breed would willingly go near a null community. That meant a lot of trade and tourism was restricted in the null-saturated areas. Humans walked the fine edge of losing business among the shadow breeds, and having protection from being prey to the breeds if nulls were about. To hear that the murder of two nulls—the first murders in the area since Sully had moved there—was possibly race-based was...disheartening.

  Sully had gotten to know many of the nulls. They’d initially viewed her with mistrust. Why would she want to associate with them? She’d learned
that apart from the block on her powers, there was something familiar about the nulls. They loved family. They had a tight-knit community, where each looked out for the other. They worked hard and partied harder, but they were just like any other human community—or witch, vampire or shifter, with one major difference. They just didn’t get into power plays.

  And that was probably one of the most attractive qualities, in her mind.

  “Tyler will find whoever did this,” she whispered to Jenny.

  Jenny turned to her, her eyebrow raised. “We’re not going to wait for the humans to help.”

  Her friend turned to walk over to Lucy, and Sully caught up with her. “What do you mean?” Sully whispered.

  “Tyler’s a good guy,” Jenny whispered back, “but these crimes have targeted nulls. We have our own ways of dealing with this.”

  “Really?” Sully glanced around the mourners.

  Jenny smiled. “I keep forgetting you’re not a born null.”

  “Thanks.” Sully frowned. “I think.”

  Jenny halted, scanning over Sully’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, I see my brother. You go ahead, I need to go see him. Gary was one of his close friends.”

  Sully nodded. Lucy crossed over to the group of nulls that had stepped away from the grave to have a quiet talk. She turned back to approach Lucy, and it was as she was stepping up to hug her that she felt the little scratching at her shields. She was out of null range. But no, she should be able to manage.

  She smiled sadly at Lucy and held out her arms.

  Lucy stepped into them, sobbing softly, and Sully held her. She smiled briefly at Cheryl over Lucy’s shoulder. The waitress looked almost as miserable as Lucy.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sully whispered into the crying woman’s ear.

  “Thank you for being here,” Lucy said softly, hiccupping into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry about the cutl—”

  “Shh,” Sully hushed her. “There’s nothing to apologize for. This is more important.”

  Lucy squeezed her tight, and Sully could feel the woman trembling in her arms. She could sense the grief, the heartrending sorrow in her. It was muted, like an annoying pain knocking at her shields. Sully hesitated, then heard Lucy sob anew. She couldn’t leave her like this. Nobody should have to go through this heartfelt agony. Lucy had lost two members of her family in quick succession in the most violent way. Sully could feel the woman fracturing in her arms. Her trembling increased, her breath grew ragged as her sobs grew harsher. Sully closed her eyes, then opened her shields a crack. She sucked in the pain, trying to absorb only some of Lucy’s pain, but she could feel the grief of the fellow mourners clawing at her shields, peeling them back. She fought, trying to shed the talons that were shredding her walls. She slammed a barrier down, and Lucy’s head lifted, surprise on her face. The woman hiccupped, then patted Sully on the shoulder as she turned to the next person lining up to offer their condolences, her composure once more slipping into place as she brushed away her tears.

  Sully stepped back, and would have staggered if Jenny hadn’t caught her arm. Her friend eyed her curiously. “Are you okay, Sully?”

  Sully nodded, smiling tightly as the pain screamed inside her head like a banshee with her finger in an electrical socket. The nulls could stop her using her powers, but once she absorbed pain, they couldn’t stop her from feeling what was already inside. And with them around, she couldn’t dispel it.

  Oh, God, so much pain. It was unbearable. Sully could feel it eating at her mental walls, coursing through her brain like a hot wash of acid. Even now, her vision was beginning to darken at the edges. She had to dispel the energy, but had to get away from the nulls to do it—and you never did a discharge of this magnitude where other humans might pick up some of the spill.

  “I have to go,” she rasped to her friend, and started to walk between the gravestones toward the parking lot. She had to get out of here. She was going to lose it. Even now, bile rose within her, burning her throat. She swallowed, trying to contain everything.

  “Oh, hey, there’s your boyfriend,” Cheryl said.

  It took Sully a moment to realize Cheryl was talking to her. She tightened her lips as she glanced about. Boyfriend? What? Sully saw Dave in the shaded corner of the parking lot, leaning against his bike.

  He frowned, straightening from his bike as she hurried toward her car.

  “Sully.”

  She braced her hand against the car, bending over as her stomach muscles clamped as though a vise was trying to squeeze her gut in half. Her hands shook as she delved into her satchel and finally found her keys. They jangled in her hand like a wind chime in a tornado.

  Two hands clasped hers, removing the keys from her grasp, and then she felt a strong arm guiding her into the passenger seat.

  “I’ll drive.”

  Chapter 7

  The voice sounded like it was echoing down a long tunnel. She blinked furiously, trying to see beyond the darkness that was now bleeding into her vision. Perspiration broke out on her upper lip and lower back, and she winced, bending low in her seat. She felt rather than saw Dave slide into the driver’s seat, and within seconds the car was in motion, driving out of the cemetery and headed wherever the hell they were going—she couldn’t see, and quite frankly didn’t care.

  She groaned, her jaw clenching as she rode another wave of intense pain. As though from a distance she could hear the scream of wheels as Dave sped along the coast road.

  They’d been on the road for only a few minutes—maybe. She was beginning to lose track of time, but she thought—hoped—they were far enough away from the crowd.

  “Pull over,” she gasped. Oh, God, this was intense. The pain—she panted as she tried to ride the hot wash of agony.

  “What? Are you sure?

  “Pull over.” Her voice emerged as something low and guttural and quite unnatural. The car jolted and bumped as he steered it onto the shoulder, slowing down.

  She opened the door before he’d quite stopped.

  “Sully!”

  She tumbled out of the car, falling to her knees on the gravel. Her fingers clawed over, and she dug her nails into the earth, trying to ground herself.

  “Sully—”

  She held up her hand in warning. Don’t come near me. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t communicate other than that one abrupt, urgent movement. She crawled a foot, her stomach muscles wrenching, and she screamed at the excruciating heat that rose up from within, as though a ball of fire was exploding inside her—inside her gut, inside her brain. It was blinding light and suffocating darkness, it was fiercely hot and blisteringly cold, it was nothing and it was everything, all at once. She released the pathetic hold she had on her mental barrier, opened her mouth and retched up all that heartache, all that crushing sadness and consuming sorrow.

  Over and over, the hot tide of negative energy roiled through her, and her stomach heaved, her throat burned and her eyes watered as she expelled Lucy’s and the other mourners’ grief in a hot black sludge that splashed on the ground and ran to rivulets, steaming as it soaked into the ground.

  When she had no more to expel, when the last drops had left her body, she wiped a shaky hand across her chin. She straightened on her knees and started to sag.

  Strong arms caught her, and this time she was too weak to fight that coalescence of power, that collision of energies. His scent, sage, juniper and neroli, his warmth, and then an overwhelming tide of tenderness, concern and just a hint of awe. It embraced her.

  “Come on, sweetness. Let’s get you home.”

  * * *

  Dave pulled into Sully’s driveway and cut the engine. The sun was setting, streaking the sky with fiery pinks and tangerines as dusk crept in. He climbed out and walked around the back of Sully’s car—a sky blue station wagon throwback that should have visited a wrecking yard years ago, from the looks of it.
The gears had been a little clunky, too. He’d have to look at them for her. He opened the passenger door, and Sully’s eyelids slowly rose.

  She hadn’t quite passed out, but she was close. Whatever the hell she’d done had clearly drained her. He didn’t question the relief that she was still conscious, still breathing, after what he’d seen her do.

  She grasped the upper frame of the door, as though getting ready to haul herself out. “Thanks for the ride—” her voice trailed off as he leaned in and scooped her up.

  “Relax,” he told her. She needed sleep. She felt so limp in his arms, so...spent.

  “No, I can—” her head bumped against his shoulder “—walk.”

  He snorted. “Please. You can’t even keep your head straight.”

  He cradled her as he strode up the steps and uttered a yield spell. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Dave walked into her house, glancing about. A hallway ran from the front door of the house and doglegged at what he assumed was the kitchen. There was a room on either side, neither of which looked like a suitable place to set her down.

  “Bedroom?”

  Her head lolled forward, and she waved her arm down the hall. “Back.”

  He walked down and around the corner. The hallway had a small bathroom at the very end, a doorway that led to the kitchen on the right and a closed door on his left. He muttered a few words, and the door swung open as he approached.

  Yeah, this looked exactly like what he’d imagine her bedroom would look like—if he’d wondered about it. There was a bay window that overlooked her garden, and sheer, gauzy white curtains that blew in the breeze coming in from the open sash windows. There was a window seat beneath the bay window that looked well cushioned, with pillows in what looked like delicate blue flowers that matched the other cushions with blue or green striped panels, and a navy knit blanket haphazardly draped on the end.

  Her bed was queen-size, with an ornate white iron bedframe that surprisingly didn’t look overwhelmingly feminine. He flicked his fingers beneath her knees and the powder blue coverlet pulled back enough that he could lay her on the crisp white cotton sheets. She subsided against the pillows, and she struggled against the heavy weight of her eyelids.