by Jasmine Walt
But now the message had come when I wasn’t alone, which meant it wasn’t just in my head. It wasn’t just my emotions in overdrive. This was real, and it was a threat. Someone from the supernatural community knew I’d killed Father James, and judging by the last location of the message, they were ready to expose the truth to Detective Baxter.
I couldn’t let that happen. Guy Baxter was innocent in all this, and he still believed that Father James was his brother. It wasn’t true, of course—the evil bastard had altered Guy’s memories and bewitched him into thinking they were related. But now that Father James was dead, Baxter was on a manhunt to find the killer. He spent every waking moment that he wasn’t working on another case tracking down clues, even dragging me around to dead-end interviews.
The pressure at my temples worsened, and I groaned, pressing my fingers into the aching spots.
“Hey, Chandler.” Baxter’s voice snapped me out of my fog, and I glanced up to see him standing over my shoulder. His dark eyes were wide with concern. “You okay there?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at the clock. Lunchtime. “My blood sugar must be low, that’s all. I’ll be fine once I get some food in me.”
“Let’s go get some lunch, then,” Baxter insisted. He stapled the corner of a stack of papers, then dropped it in his outgoing bin. “We’ll grab something at the Lobster Shanty. My treat. Bobby and Jake are coming, too,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to where the other two detectives sat.
I hesitated, not really sure that I wanted to go out to eat with Baxter while I had a headache. But he looked so legitimately concerned that I couldn’t find it in me to rebuff him.
“All right,” I agreed, pushing my seat back. “Let me get my bag.”
We arrived at The Lobster Shanty a little past twelve. The tiny seafood joint, located in Downtown Salem, was a cute looking place from the outside, with a green metal awning that contrasted nicely with the brick exterior, but the inside was cramped, with not much more available than bar space and a few small tables. So we placed our orders at the bar, then sat outside in the patio area despite the chilly weather.
Although I’d had my apprehensions, lunch turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. After Juanita giving us such a run around, I was thankful for the generously sized portions, and sitting with Baxter, Bobby, and Jake, eating lobster rolls and talking shop without Captain Randall breathing down our backs, was exactly what I needed to unwind. Soon, I was relaxed, my headache almost completely gone.
“It’s been awhile since we had a female detective around, you know,” Jake said, winking at me. He had a thick head of gelled back hair and crow’s feet around his warm brown eyes. “You’re a breath of fresh air.”
“And good at your job, too,” Bobby added with a smile. He had that whole Bruce Lee thing going for him, not just because he was one of the few Asians around Salem, but because he was expertly trained in Jeet Kune Do. Rumor was that was how he found his way onto the force. “I didn’t think there was someone around more dedicated than Baxter until you came here.”
“Yeah, well, she’s my partner,” Baxter said, dipping his calamari in the cocktail sauce. “I’m teaching her good habits.”
“Maybe I’m the one teaching you good habits,” I teased. “I think everyone’s noticed that your desk is looking a lot cleaner these days, and your reports are actually organized.”
“Pah!” Baxter scoffed. “There’s such a thing as organized chaos, you know. You just rearranged my already amazing system, that’s all. Did I ever tell you about the time I solved a case with nothing more than an out of place photograph?”
Everyone at the table let out a collective groan.
“Yes,” Jake said, draping the jacket of his smart navy blue suit across the back of his chair; he must have enjoyed the cold as much as I did. “Only about a hundred times.”
“I don’t think Detective Chandler heard this one. I was on a case for a missing person, and we were looking around their home for clues. I noticed the missing person was really into abstract art.”
“And then you saw a framed photograph in the room that wasn’t abstract,” I offered. When his expression deflated, I added, “Sorry, Baxter. I’ve heard this story at least three times now.”
“Only three times,” Bobby joked. “Count yourself lucky.”
“It was a great close on that case, though,” I said reassuringly. “Though I always wonder why that clue was there. It’s like they wanted to get caught.”
“Hey,” Jake said. “Sometimes the bad guys do.”
I frowned, thinking about the implications of that. Not the supernatural ones, I thought.
Bobby leaned across the table on his forearms. “You know, you should come up to the shooting range with us sometime,” he said. “We could have some friendly competition. Baxter says you’re a great shot.”
“Maybe,” I allowed, sobering a little. Was it really worth it to get friendly with these guys if I wasn’t going to be staying? It was one thing to have lunch with them, another to actually hang out on a regular basis. Besides, I wasn’t safe to be around. Not with my penchant for attracting trouble of the supernatural variety.
After we finished up, I picked up the tab before the guys could get a shot at it. Some might have thought I’d done it to prove something as a woman, but really, I’d done it out of guilt. And it didn’t make me feel any better.
“Hey, thanks for coming with me,” Baxter said as we drove back to the station. I had his leftovers in a container in my lap. “I know things were a little rocky between us in the beginning, but so long as you’re here, I think it’s good that we get along, you know?”
“Yeah.” I glanced sideways at him. He’d grown serious again, his eyebrows drawn together as he gripped the steering wheel. What was on his mind?
“You know, I understand what you’re going through with Tom now,” he said. “Since I’m going through the same thing with my brother. It’s driving me crazy, not knowing what really happened to him.”
“Yeah.” Nausea gripped my stomach again, and I resisted the urge to press my fingers against my now-aching head again. What the fuck? “It’s really hard, not knowing the truth.”
And sometimes it’s harder when you do know the truth, I thought to myself.
“I miss him, you know?” Baxter’s voice grew hoarse. “James and I weren’t close like some siblings, but we were still brothers. Whoever did this isn’t gonna be able to hide forever. I’m going to find the fucker, Chandler. And when I do, I’m gonna make sure he rots behind bars for the rest of his miserable life.”
Chapter 3
As soon as my shift ended, I hopped into my Jeep and headed straight for Boston. My palms were sweaty as I gripped my steering wheel, the atmosphere tense and silent in the cab. I didn’t bother with music—the noise would only exacerbate my headache, which was becoming nearly unbearable.
I’d spent the rest of the afternoon sick with guilt and anxiety after talking with Baxter in the car. He was a good and innocent man, and he deserved to know the truth. But how could I possibly tell him? It was unlikely he’d believe me if I told him his brother was actually an evil warlock who’d messed with his memories to make him think they were family. More than likely, he’d think I was lying and would have my ass tossed in jail.
And even though I had killed Father James, I refused to rot in prison for it. I’d been fighting for my life, and the bastard had deserved to die. Under any other circumstance, I would have called it in. But there was no way I could explain what really happened without assuming the same risks as if I’d killed in cold blood. If I wanted justice—if I wanted a fair outcome—I had to stay silent. I just wished Baxter didn’t have to suffer as a result.
The irony of the situation was crushing. Not too long ago, it had been me blundering around in Salem, tracking dead ends as I tried to figure out what had happened to my fiancé. The truth had come at great cost to me, and if a tiny part of me hadn’t already suspected it,
I doubt I would have been able to handle the fact that Tom had never truly been mine. That he’d been an agent of Father James, sent to spy on me. To betray me.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away rapidly. Tom wasn’t worth crying over. I should have known that from the time I’d seen that vision of him talking on the phone about watching me. Most likely, it’d been Father James on the other end of that line. But I’d been so convinced Tom was the victim in all this that I’d refused to even consider any other possibility. Love had a way of blinding people, of making it impossible to see reason when it came to the people they cared about.
And I was no exception.
Even now, my heart still ached when I thought about Tom. I wanted to go back to the old days, when it was just the two of us against the world. Solving crimes, taking out vampires, and taking comfort in the knowledge that we had each other’s backs.
Except, of course, that we hadn’t.
He’d been so convincing. I could still see moments we shared replaying in my mind’s eye. But one memory haunted me above all others: the day we’d met.
I’d been tracking a particular hive of vampires for several weeks at that point, set on the course after a recent sting had pointed me to a vampire drug lord. I’d turned the humans in for that case, letting my department think that was the end of it, but meanwhile, I’d used what I’d learned from the perps to submerse myself in that little crime pocket to find the leader.
The private investigation led me to a trap house, the halls lined with addicts, the rooms filled with people nodding off. But this wasn’t just any trap house. Because there were vampires there, feeding off the addicts who were either too strung out to notice or too high to fight back. The tracks would be covered, the bodies discovered, and eventually written off as an overdose. And maybe that was the fate some of these people would have met. But they hadn’t all been beyond saving—or wouldn’t have been, if not for the vampires sucking the literal life out of them.
Just as I’d lined up the kill shot on one of the vampires, another had grabbed me from behind. His nails bit into my forearms as he held me still and lowered his face to my neck, fangs surely one snap away from piercing my jugular.
And then he took a shot to the head.
I took my shot on the other vamp, then spotted the gunman who had helped me out. Propped in the corner was what appeared to be an addict bum, but in reality was one Tom Garrison, undercover cop. And apparently he’d been undercover for years—since before I’d joined the force and gotten my shield.
We had a lot in common. He, too, was hiding the existence of vampires, and he’d been stuck on how to get himself off of undercover work without a human source to blame the drug ring operation on. I’d helped him work that out, and before I knew it, we were partners. And then lovers.
Except the whole thing had been a farce.
Knowing the truth should have been freeing. All that hurt and pain and fear that had sent me spiraling out of control should be gone. My anger should have dissipated, and I should be able to start thinking straight again. To return to the calm, measured, well-trained life as an officer that had always brought me peace and a sense of fulfillment.
But now, Tom was dead. Father James, too. And someone planned to use that knowledge against me.
My lead foot managed to shave ten minutes off the half-hour drive to the outskirts of Boston, and soon I was parked on the side of the road beside an old oak I used as a marker. I dashed into the thickly wooded forest, my feet easily finding the hidden path that led up a steep hill. Tingles broke out across my forearms, as they always did whenever magic was near. My fingertips began to glow softly as the instincts from my witch-half activated.
I sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to suck up the magic in the air. If I did that, I would weaken the illusion that hid Maddock’s home from human eyes. And if that happened, Maddock would kick me out of his life and refuse to train me, as he’d been doing every other night for the past two weeks. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed him. He’d agreed to teach me how to control my powers after the showdown at the witches’ mansion so that I’d be able to use them safely, and I didn’t know anyone else willing and able to do that.
Of course, Maddock Tremaine likely had an ulterior motive for training me. He was not a selfless man and did nothing without purpose. But just because he might be using me didn’t mean I couldn’t use him, too. This would have to do until I found a better option. And since Maddock was my teacher now, I was damn well going to make the weird messages painted in fog his problem, too. If a supernatural was following me around, I wanted them found and dealt with.
Eventually, the steep incline leveled out, and the oaks and maples gave way to tropical palm fronds that had no business sprouting in Massachusetts. The air around me grew thick and sultry as the trees gave way to a lodge-style cabin with a sparkling river that ran straight through the house and then disappeared into who knew where.
Despite the panic hammering in my chest, my steps slowed as they always did when I came here. There was something about the ethereal beauty of this place that demanded a certain amount of awe. Even though I hadn’t traveled through any sort of strange portal to get here, I knew that the ground beneath my feet wasn’t earthly. Somehow, this was a place between worlds, a small piece of Faerie, or even another world entirely. The shimmer in the cloudless, sunny blue sky and the unusually colorful birds flitting from the trees were proof of that, as if the rest of the scenery weren’t enough.
Tugging my gaze away from the magical wildlife, I crossed the small bridge that led over the stream and to the front door of Maddock’s home. My fingers curled around the golden door handle, which had been cast into the shape of a branch, and I pushed it open.
The inside of the house was even more magical than the outside. Live birds flitted from potted trees that grew upside down from the ceiling, and their musical twitterings blended seamlessly with the whisper of the stream to create a peaceful melody. The furniture was made of dark mahogany, carved into the shapes of animals, with gem-like eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light. I always wondered if they were alive somehow, guardians that would rise at the slightest provocation to defend their home. But they hadn’t done so the first time I’d come here, when a phoukas lay in wait to attack as soon as Maddock and I stepped through the door. So either it took more than that, or there really was nothing more to them than wooden carvings and embedded gems.
A lapis lazuli hearth sat empty along the far wall, an unnecessary adornment here since the place was perfectly warm on its own. Gold covered every inch of the floor I stood on, except for the bubbling creek that ran through the living room and down a hall. I wondered, not for the first time, what I would find if I continued to follow the stream. But Maddock never let me go farther into the house—he always held our lessons here in the living room.
“Detective.” A small shiver went down my spine as Maddock’s deep Scottish accent drifted into the room.
He stepped from the shadowed hall into the light, cutting a striking figure with his big, muscular body. He was beautiful in every sense, with his long, black hair, his face that seemed to be carved by both angelic and demonic hands, and brilliant eyes the color of new leaves.
He was also incredibly deadly, and I still wasn’t sure if he was my enemy or my friend.
“Yer early,” he said as he closed the distance between us, and it was impossible to tell whether that was a compliment or a scolding.
“Am I interrupting something?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I took in his appearance. He was dressed in a dark blue suit that was even more expensive looking than his usual ones, with diamond cuff links winking at his wrists and his Italian leather shoes shined to perfection. A black dress was draped over his massive left arm, and a pair of kitten heels dangled from the fingers of his left hand.
“Not at all,” Maddock said, and I had a feeling he was about to explain himself. But a suspicious light
glinted in his eye as he took me in, reading me as though I were an open book. He set the dress and heels aside as he moved closer. His heather and woodsmoke scent teased my nostrils, and I resisted the urge to lean in closer. Even so, my lower belly warmed, and I cursed my body for it’s stupid reactions. Maddock might look like sex on a stick, but he was well off limits to me.
“Ye seem rattled, Detective,” he said softly.
I stood stock still as his brilliant green eyes searched my face, and if he’d been anyone else, the intensity in his gaze would have made me think he cared. But I knew that, to Maddock, my shaky emotions were merely an obstacle, something that needed to be set aside and dealt with so we could move onto whatever agenda he had in mind for tonight.
“You could say that.” I sat down on one of the couches, a wave of exhaustion coming over me. I was so tired of being on edge. I just wanted to relax, to know a moment’s peace instead of feeling like someone was always watching me.
Well then, you should have never come to Salem, should you? a nasty little voice in my head reminded me. If you’d listened to Uncle Oscar, you would be safe.
I let out a little huff at that. Safe. Yeah, right. I’d be back home in Chicago, staking vampires and catching murderers. That wasn’t really safe by a normal person’s standards, and besides, my safety had been an illusion. Oscar had thought I was protected in Chicago, that no one knew my whereabouts. But Tom’s betrayal was proof that just wasn’t true. Father James had found me, and even if I hadn’t come out to Salem, he would have just found some other way to get his hands on me.
Maddock strolled across the room and set the shoes and clothes on the arm of the chair. Then his fingers sank into the space where my neck met my shoulders, putting a deep pressure into my flesh that relaxed away my tension and sent a strange heat through my body. I wanted to tell him to get his hands off of me, but it felt so good. So needed. But there was something inhuman about his touch, too. Something that made his touch almost erotic. And I pulled away.