Shadow Marked: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Shadows of Salem Book 2)

by Jasmine Walt

  “Dinnae give me lip on this,” Maddock said, accelerating his Aston Martin as he cut across two lanes of traffic. Apparently Maddock was the kind to show his emotions through his driving. “In exchange for my training, ye are to make yerself useful if and when I ask it of ye. Is that understood?”

  “Yeah, I understand,” I spat, my face going hot with fury. “You’re saying that I have to agree to be your puppet if I want to learn more about my powers. If that’s the case, maybe I should just find someone else to train me.”

  Maddock slammed his foot on the brakes, and I shot forward in my seat. The seatbelt cut into my chest as it tightened, preventing me from smashing my face into the dash, then threw me back against the seat. A harsh breath exploded from my chest as my head knocked against the seat rest, my body vibrating with shock at the sudden stop.

  Maddock’s fingers tightened around my jaw, and his eyes blazed as he turned my face toward his. “Just who do ye think yer going to find to replace me?” he asked, his soft voice at odds with the deadly aura emanating from his big body. “Who out there is willing to teach ye what ye need to know and still let ye maintain the level of autonomy I grant ye? Anyone else would toss ye into a cage and only take ye out when they’ve need of ye, and that’s the best case scenario. Many others would do as Father James tried and simply take yer powers into their own body.”

  “What, so you think you’re better than them just because you’re not taking advantage of me to the extent they would?” I snapped, even as the truth in his words stirred something inside me. I wouldn’t admit it aloud, but Maddock was probably right that he was my safest bet.

  But I also had a witch’s number in my pocket, and I wasn’t ruling her out.

  “Isn’t that the very definition of ‘better’? The fact that I am not as bad as the others who seek your power?” His upper lip curled into a sneer as he looked down at me. “Ye dare to call me a slave master, Detective, but in truth ye dinnae know what true slavery is. Ye can continue to act like a spoiled bairn, but that doesna change that I am within my rights to call on ye for aid in exchange for yer training.”

  He released me then, and continued driving without another word. My heart hammered against my chest, and I took slow, steady breaths to try and return my heartrate to normal. I could still feel where his hand had been on my jaw, and I had to fight back the tears burning at the back of my throat. I refused to cry in front of Maddock. I wouldn’t show him any kind of weakness.

  Maybe in his eyes, I was acting like a spoiled child. He was an ancient fae, after all, and I was a millennial in my early twenties. It didn’t really matter that I was reincarnated—my memories of my past lives were slippery at best, and I certainly wasn’t drawing on any of those years of experience. Was it even possible to access that hidden part of me? Maybe the knowledge made me more powerful, put me on more even footing with Maddock.

  There’s no point in worrying about it. After all, there wasn’t anybody around who could help me access my past. The glimpses Maddock had shown me had come from his memory, and if he did have the power to restore my memory, he certainly wasn’t sharing it. If I asked Oscar, he would probably refuse, just like he’d refused to help me with everything else.

  If you want to know more about your mother and father, I’d be happy to talk to you over lunch, Thelia’s voice echoed in my head.

  I pursed my lips. Her business card was in my clutch. Learning about my mother and father seemed like a good start to delving into my past. Maddock sure hadn’t been happy to see her sniffing around me, but maybe that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d proven that he wasn’t beyond keeping things from me in order to further his own agenda, so maybe trying to keep me away from Thelia was for his benefit rather than my own.

  Maddock pulled into my apartment complex and brought the car to a stop near the steps that led up to my place. Relief spilled through me, and I reached for the door handle, ready to put some distance between us.

  “Keep the Miotal Sorcóir shaded and in a safe place,” Maddock said. “Dinnae remove it from yer apartment under any circumstances, unless I direct ye to do so.”

  “Yes, sir,” I sniped, refusing to look at him. I yanked on the handle and pushed open the car door, half-expecting him to scold me for my snarky tone. But he remained silent as I stepped out into the cold night air and slammed the door behind me. Guess he was done taunting me for the night.

  Exhaustion dragged at me as I trudged toward the entrance to my apartment building. Even the cool night air, which I normally enjoyed, couldn’t lift my spirits this time. The beginnings of a tension headache had started to gather at the base of my skull, and my shoulders felt like they were being weighed down by a ton of bricks.

  Although I didn’t want to, I stopped at the mailboxes to pick up my mail. The last thing I needed was a bill paid late. I shuffled through a stack of junk mail, plucked out the water and electric bill, and tossed the rest before heading up the stairs.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket half way up. Not in the mood to talk with the throbbing headache I had, I took it out to silence the call, but the caller I.D. showed Shelley was calling. I couldn’t cancel her call.

  I released a sigh and paused at the top of the staircase landing to take the call. “Hey, Shell.”

  “Brooke! Oh, goodness, I thought for a minute you weren’t going to answer. I know you’re busy with work and don’t have the time to chat, but I had to share the news!”

  I didn’t really have the energy to respond, but I opened my mouth to try anyway. Thankfully, Shelley continued before any real effort need be made.

  “I got a job at Salem Diner!” Her voice had so much energy that it felt like an icepick to my skull. Normally I enjoyed Shelley’s excitement, but right now…not so much. “Isn’t that the diner all the cops go to?”

  “Hmmm?” I blinked, finally absorbing her question. My finger pressed into my temples, trying to alleviate the headache enough to pay attention. “Oh, yeah. For lunch sometimes. Hey, how’s your son?”

  When Shelley kicked into her next tangent, I zoned out. It was hard to feign interest in waitressing and her son’s school studies when I held stolen supernatural artifacts in my possession. Really, I just needed to get inside and go to bed. Soon after, my mind wandered to thoughts of how horrible of a friend I was, and an acute awareness that I’d tuned out of the conversation for too long.

  Catching the tail end of something about honor roll, I said, “That’s great, Shell. I’m so glad things turned around for you guys. You’re a great mom.” Better mom than I am a friend. “I hate to do this to you, but I’m just now getting home from work and it’s an early day tomorrow. Would it be okay—”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” she said. The interruption was nice. The less I had to say, the better. “I’m so embarrassed, I just noticed the time. Calling you at this hour.”

  “It’s fine, really,” I promised. “It’s good to hear from you. Talk soon?”

  “Of course. And thanks again. For everything.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I disconnected the call before continuing down the upstairs hall toward my apartment. The sight of my door was a welcome relief; I couldn’t dig my keys out of my clutch fast enough. Just one turn of the lock, and I could get inside and into a nice pair of comfy pajamas. That, plus a cup of hot chocolate and a good book, would go a long way toward restoring my mood.

  But as soon as I stepped inside the apartment and flipped on the light, a chill swept over me that seeped so deeply into my flesh, my whole body felt cold straight through to my bones. The cold was absolutely immersive, and the tingling sensation in my spine started up with more insistence than I’d ever experienced before.

  My eyes darted around the space, trying to find the source of my agitation.

  “Who’s there?” I called, taking a step back.

  The front door slammed shut behind me and locked itself before I could back out of the apartment. My heartbeat ratcheted up as the shadows near my
dining table shifted, and a cloaked woman stepped into the light.

  “Good evening, Brooke Chandler,” she rasped, lowering her hood.

  I gasped at the sight of a woman standing in my apartment. Flyaway grey hair, wrinkly face, dark eyes, black cloak that covered her thin frame. Yep. There was no doubt in my mind – this was the same woman who’d approached me at the witch shop and told me where to find the Onyx Order.

  “I’m here to collect my favor.”

  Chapter 7

  “Your favor?” I echoed, my mind swirling with confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? And how the hell did you get into my place?”

  The old woman chuckled, an insidious sound that sent more shivers crawling up my spine. “I am the Morrigan, and you owe me a debt. It was easy enough to bypass the wards your protector set around this place.”

  “The Morrigan?” I scowled, wracking my brain for any mention of the name. But nothing came up. “I’ve never heard of you.”

  “Hmph.” The old woman fixed me with a beady eye. “I knew that you had been sheltered from our world, but I am legendary. My name is still whispered amongst humans even to this day.”

  “Sorry.” I crossed my arms beneath my chest, my fear lessening a little. “I don’t know you, so your name isn’t going to be enough to scare me into submission. Try a little harder, old lady.”

  “Pah!” The Morrigan swept her cloak across her body, and the dark fabric swirled around her. Magic sizzled in the air in sparks of silver, and I gasped as the fabric settled again. “I prefer the guise of an old woman, but that hardly defines me. I am a goddess of fertility, after all.”

  No, I agreed silently. The guise of an old woman certainly didn’t define her. The old crone appearance was gone now, replaced by a tall, willowy woman with inky hair and flawless skin that emanated a soft, preternatural glow. Dark feathers were woven into her hair and cloak and decorated the spear she now held in her hand.

  “Goddess of fertility?” I asked, eyeing the leather battle armor she wore beneath her cloak. “You look more like a goddess of war.”

  “I am both,” the Morrigan said, her full lips curving into a smile. Her youth was disconcerting, since she’d been an old hag just a moment ago. “And as one of the faerie, I have the power to bind you by your oath. You promised me a favor after I told you the whereabouts of those witches, and now you must deliver.”

  “I don’t remember promising you any such favor,” I protested, casting my mind back to that day. “All I did was thank you!”

  The Morrigan laughed, her raven hair flowing down her shoulders with the motion. “And that was your fatal mistake, young one. To thank a fae, whether seelie or unseelie, is an acknowledgement of debt. Some of us would simply let it pass, knowing your pledge was done through ignorance, but I am not that kind of fae.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “If you fail to deliver on your promise, I will go after your Uncle Oscar instead.”

  “Uncle Oscar?” Fear lanced through my chest. “If you’ve done anything—”

  “He is perfectly safe. For now.” The Morrigan waved her hand, and an image shimmered to life. Relief swept through me at the sight of Uncle Oscar sitting at his desk, nursing a cup of coffee. There were bags under his eyes, and his clothing was rumpled, but he was still alive. “And I shall leave him alone…so long as you do as I command.”

  A chill spread through my chest. I had no doubt she wasn’t bluffing about Oscar’s life. I sensed the favor she was about to ask of me was nothing good, but I didn’t want Uncle Oscar to die. I might be angry with him, but he’d still raised me. I couldn’t abandon him.

  “Fine. What is this favor?”

  The Morrigan smiled again. “A simple one. Lord Tremaine had you collect a special fae artifact tonight, did he not?”

  “I guess so,” I admitted reluctantly. He hadn’t said it was fae, but I had no reason to think it wasn’t. “What, you want me to hand it over to you?”

  “Not yet.” The Morrigan wagged a finger at me. “If you do it now, he will be suspicious. No, I want you to collect the others first.”

  “The others?” My eyes widened. Maddock was going to be taking me to find more of these things? “How many others are there?”

  The Morrigan smirked, turning her body slightly from mine as if to hide her amusement. “Oh, so Lord Tremaine did not make you aware? Very well, I suppose I should tell you so you know when to expect my return. There are four artifacts in total. Once you have the fourth in hand, you must hand all of them over to me. Then our bargain will be complete.”

  I clutched my purse tightly in my hand. Did she know the Miotal Sorcóir was right here? She must, since she knew I’d just come back from stealing it. “What do you plan to do with them?”

  “That is not for you to know.” The Morrigan swirled her cloak, and a breeze whipped around her. She disappeared in a whirlwind of darkness, blasting me with a gust of cold air.

  “All you need to know is that, should you fail, I will come for your Uncle Oscar.”

  Her voice echoed in my empty apartment as a trio of raven feathers floated to the floor, the only evidence that she had ever been here.

  After the Morrigan left, I headed into town to pick up an iron chest, then came straight home and nestled the Miotal Sorcóir inside. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do just yet, but whatever it was, it would be my decision. Not Maddock’s, and not the Morrigan’s. No fae, seelie or unseelie, was going to touch this artifact unless I said it was okay.

  Unfortunately, my resolve didn’t bring me any peace. I spent most of the night tossing and turning in bed, hardly able to get a wink of sleep. Even the valerian tea I often took to help with restless nights did me no good. The Morrigan’s threat echoed in my ears, and the image she’d shown me of Uncle Oscar replayed in my mind over and over.

  Oscar always looked kind of scruffy—that’s just the way he was—but he always kept himself clean. The Uncle Oscar I’d seen in the Morrigan’s vision looked as if he’d been wearing the same clothes for a week, as if he hadn’t slept at all. Worry had been etched into his eyes, and the only reason I could think for him to be so distraught was…me.

  “Damn,” I muttered, reaching for my phone. It was seven in the morning—still too early to call anyone in Chicago. Even so, I thumbed through my contacts and found Uncle Oscar’s number. Should I call him, to let him know I was okay? It would be so reassuring to hear his voice, and I could warn him about the Morrigan. Maybe he’d have some advice.

  But what if the Morrigan found out that I contacted him? Would she go ahead and kill him anyway, in retaliation?

  My gut twisted at the thought. No, I couldn’t risk Oscar’s life by calling him. If staying out of contact and letting him worry a bit longer kept him safe, then so be it. In the meantime, I would just have to find another way to get out of my debt to the Morrigan. I didn’t know why she wanted these artifacts, but if they were worth killing over, then I couldn’t let them fall into her hands.

  Flicking my thumb, I scrolled past Oscar’s name and hit ‘SEND’ on another name—one I’d programmed into my phone just a few hours ago.

  “Hello?” Thelia’s voice answered, heavy with sleep. My heartbeat instantly ratcheted up as my nerves got the better for me. “Who is this?”

  “This is Brooke Chandler.” I paused for a moment, willing myself to calm down. “We met at the party last night.”

  “So we did.” Some of the sleep cleared from Thelia’s voice. “Have you decided to take me up on my offer for lunch?”

  “I have…but I think I would prefer dinner, actually,” I told her. “That way I’ll be off shift, and we won’t be interrupted.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Thelia said, sounding somewhat surprised. “I forgot that you were still working as a detective. Very well then, we’ll meet for dinner. What do you say we meet at Turner’s tonight, seven o’clock?”

  “That’ll work.” My shift ended at five, so that gave me plenty of time to get ready and head over
there.

  “Excellent. I look forward to speaking with you.”

  I hung up, then groaned at the faint rays of sun peeking through my blinds. If I opened them now, I would see dawn cresting the horizon. That meant I had maybe an hour left to get more sleep.

  But before I could get comfortable again in bed, the phone buzzed. I scowled at the readout on my caller ID—it was dispatch.

  “This is Detective Chandler,” I answered, trying not to sound too grumpy.

  “Detective, this is dispatch,” answered Leo, the dispatch officer who worked the night shift. “Please report to 270 Lafayette Street. Possible theft. Detective Baxter will fill you in. Captain Randall requested that you both go.”

  “Got it. I’ll be there in twenty.” Frowning, I hung up. Why did Captain Randall ask for me specifically? He’d never done that before; in fact, the two of us made a point of avoiding each other as much as possible. Was this crime scene important to him, somehow?

  Or worse, was it connected to Tom?

  Chapter 8

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, looking up at the one-story red-and-white house from where Baxter and I stood on the sidewalk. “We were called here at this hour of the morning because of a missing dog?”

  “Hey, this is a small town.” Baxter shrugged, but the look in his eye told me he was annoyed, too. “That means small town crime. Besides, Miss Bennett is the Chief’s older sister. She gets special treatment.”

  I let out a breath. “I’m guessing by the way you said that, Miss Bennett calls on the Salem PD often?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Baxter said as he led the way up the front steps. “Her dog, Sneezy, escapes at least once a month. Poor guy can’t stand her. Makes me feel bad every time we have to bring him back, but she’s not abusing him. Just smothering him.”

  Yeah, well, I know how that feels, I thought as Baxter rang the doorbell. In a way, Oscar had smothered me by keeping me in the dark. I couldn’t call that abuse, either, but it had, eventually, ended with me running to Salem.