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

by Jasmine Walt

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. “So me destroying it wasn’t actually part of the plan? Were you just going to let it scare me to death, then?”

  “Of course not, Detective,” he said. “I had a spell I was going to use if yer shading technique didn’t work.”

  “You should have warned me,” I snapped, turning my attention to the artifact. “What if your spell hadn’t worked, and I hadn’t been able to destroy it? You would have gotten us both killed.”

  Maddock stayed silent, waiting until I’d shaded the artifact before speaking again. “We would have come back,” he said, his voice subdued. “Eventually.”

  I glanced up, incredulous. “So you’re telling me that this statue is worth dying for?”

  “Unequivocally.”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, I was dead tired. Maddock hadn’t gotten me home until somewhere around two in the morning, and with all that had happened with the Nocnista, it took me a long time to fall asleep. I knew I’d killed it, and that Tom was dead, but the fight between us kept replaying in my mind, which didn’t really help with the whole relaxation thing.

  Maddock had explained to me that the Moirtéal Dealbh repelled one’s enemies, so I’d eventually gotten it from the iron chest I’d decided to keep the artifacts in and cuddled with it in bed. The stone woman had seemed to warm against my chest, and a feeling of security had settled over me like a blanket. I’d felt safe right up to the point where my alarm clock had started shrieking.

  I half-wished I could take the statue with me, but Maddock had told me to keep it shaded and in my apartment. Apparently objects I shaded could only stay hidden if they were on my person or if they were in my home. And it wasn’t worth bringing it with me on the off chance that someone attacked me and took it. So I returned the statue to the chest and went to work.

  Aside from having lunch with the guys again, my day was filled with mind-numbing paperwork. As I worked my way through another report, I couldn’t help but think that dealing with admin in Salem was even more boring than Chicago. At least the paperwork I dealt with back home had to do with serious cases. Here, I filled out reports about stuff that I normally wouldn’t have given the time of day.

  Then again, the supernatural stuff was way more intense out here than it was in Chicago. Back there, all I had to worry about were vampires. Here, there were fae and witches and ghosts, and they wanted a lot more than my blood. Maybe the super boring police work was just life’s way of balancing out the crazy, exciting, and often dangerous world I’d walked into when I arrived here.

  Footsteps thudded from the hall, and I glanced up to see Captain Randall heading for the bullpen. My headache came barreling back, and my stomach churned as our eyes met. Fuck. Was he going to harass me about keeping the promise I’d made to him? Of course, he couldn’t say anything aloud, not with the other cops in the room, but he could make veiled threats.

  But Randall only nodded briefly at me, then headed for Jake’s desk. I let out a quiet breath of relief and dropped my gaze back to the report I was filling out. Had Maddock dealt with Randall yet? Was Randall’s silence just now due to Maddock putting him in his place? Maddock could at least tell me if that were the case, so I could stop worrying about this. It would be nice if my insides stopped twisting into knots every time Randall walked into the room.

  I cringed. Who was I kidding? I would never feel comfortable around Randall—even if Maddock got him to leave me alone. Because I knew men like Randall, and they didn’t just stop blackmailing people out of fear of pissing people off. Even if that person was an ancient Fae Lord. If Randall feared Maddock the way he should have, he wouldn’t have threatened me in the first place. Either Maddock hadn’t dealt with him, or he hadn’t dealt with him sufficiently enough. Couldn’t he just transport him to the other side of the planet and make sure he never made it back? Or lock him away in Faerie or something?

  I just didn’t trust him being here. At all. Even if I did hold up my end of the deal and got Randall into the coven—which was no guarantee, since I wasn’t sure if I wanted to join myself—he could still fuck me over. He wasn’t a fae, and there was no magic forcing him to keep his word. For all I knew, he would turn around the second he had what he wanted and throw me under the bus with Baxter.

  I pulled out my phone and shot Maddock a text. HAVE YOU DEALT WITH MY SITUATION YET?

  “Hey, Chandler,” Baxter called as he hung up the phone.

  I shoved my phone back into my pocket and tried to calm my nerves as he craned his head around his computer monitor to look at me.

  “Got a call from a guy up in Hamilton,” Baxter said. “Says he’s found a Chihuahua matching Sneezy’s description shivering on the side of the highway when he was heading back from Beverly yesterday.”

  “Really?” I let out a half laugh, shaking my head. “That’s pretty far for a little dog like that. Guess he really doesn’t want to go back to Miss Bennett.”

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately we still have to bring him to her.” Baxter stood up and tossed his coat on. “You wanna come with me and pick up the pooch? You look like you could use a break from the bullpen.” He gestured to the forms on my desk.

  More than you know.

  “I sure could,” I agreed, rising from my chair. And maybe the drive would do something to dispel my headache, too.

  I snatched up my keys and was out the door before Baxter even got up from his desk. I knew he liked to drive, and with my headache, that was preferred for me, too, so I was waiting in the passenger side of our cruiser when he came out.

  “Couldn’t get out of there fast enough, huh?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Guess I’m just eager to get that pup.”

  “Uh huh. Hey, did Captain Randall seem off to you today?”

  I swallowed, forcing myself to look into Baxter’s eyes. “Nah. Why, did he seem off to you?”

  “He ran out of his office after you left, then stormed back inside. Just seemed strange.”

  I pressed my lips together. “Hmm. Yeah, strange. What was that address in Hamilton?”

  Baxter read it off to me, and I punched it into my phone’s GPS, which these days worked a lot better than the GPS in our cruiser. As we headed up to Hamilton, which was about ten miles north, I let my head rest against the seat and stared out the window.

  Even if Maddock did get rid of Randall, that didn’t mean I could stay on at the Salem PD indefinitely. My captain back in Chicago wanted me to come home, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. I wanted to become more familiar with my powers and this strange world that I belonged to.

  But what would I do if I moved to Boston? Continuing my training with Maddock was all well and good, but it wouldn’t pay the bills. I needed to do something to put food on the table.

  Maybe you can become a supernatural PI, a snarky voice in my head suggested. Like Angel, but without the vampire fangs.

  “What’s so funny?” Baxter asked as I snorted aloud at the thought. He glanced sideways at me. “You seem like you’re in a better mood.”

  “I’m just thinking about life,” I said, giving him a crooked smile. “And the strange paths we find ourselves on sometimes.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Baxter smiled a little, too.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I ignored the itch to check the screen. Maddock’s reply would be there, but Baxter’s attention was on me.

  “When I became a cop, I didn’t exactly envision myself driving around and looking for missing dogs,” he said. “But then again, I had my fill of dealing with serious cases when I lived in the big city. Small town life suits me better now.”

  I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t want to talk, even though I was burning to check my phone, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I could ask Baxter about his career before he came to Salem, but that risked bringing up Father James. After all, the bastard had planted memories of himself into Baxter’s mind,
so Baxter was bound to bring him up. And every time Baxter talked about him, he got upset, and I always ended up feeling so guilty.

  Better to let sleeping dogs lie. Instead I nodded, as if I understood where he was coming from, and turned away. I watched Baxter out of the corner of my eye until I was sure he was done talking. Then I whipped out my phone and opened the message from Maddock.

  WORKING ON IT.

  I didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. On the one hand, that meant he hadn’t forgotten, and that he was figuring something out. On the other hand, it meant Maddock was taking his sweet time. I’d bet if it was something that affected him directly, it would have been handled by now.

  About fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to a small, picturesque ranch. The property was surrounded by a low, wooden fence, and in the center sat a cute, two story ranch house with white siding and a green roof and shutters. There was an enclosure off to the side of the house, and rows of fruits and vegetables grew out front on either side of the pathway. The sound of a horse neighing loudly led me to believe there was probably a stable out back, and longing tugged at my heart. I’d always wanted to ride a horse, but I’d never gotten the chance.

  The farmer, a man named Jimmy Fletcher, sat in a rocking chair on the front porch, eating a sandwich. He waved at us as we unlatched the gate. The moment we stepped onto the property, a cacophony of barking started up from the enclosure on the side of the house. They got louder as we approached, and on the other side of the wire fencing, a black mastiff stood next to Sneezy. The huge dog dwarfed the little Chihuahua, but both looked equally fierce, with their ears flattened back and their teeth bared.

  “Woah there!” the farmer called, walking over to the side of the porch to peer down at the dogs. “What’s gotten into you, Lara? Relax! These are just two nice police officers, here to visit for a minute.” The dogs quieted, and he reached in to give Lara’s massive head a nice scratch. “Good girl.”

  “Good afternoon,” Baxter said, holding out a hand. “I’m Detective Guy Baxter, and this is my partner, Detective Brooke Chandler. We spoke on the phone.”

  “We sure did.” The farmer shook Baxter’s hand, then mine. “I’m glad you came out to get this little guy. He looked pretty cold and lonely out on the road last night, so far from home.”

  “Yeah, and his owner’s pretty worried about him.” Baxter glanced at the Chihuahua, who was sniffing the mastiff’s hindquarters. Or at least trying to—he had to stand up on his hind legs just to reach high enough. “I appreciate you turning him in.”

  “Yeah, well a ranch is no place for such a tiny dog,” the farmer said, frowning. “He does get on mighty well with Lara, though I think he might be trying to bite off more than he can chew.” The farmer chuckled as he glanced at the two dogs again.

  Baxter grinned. “He’s got his sights set high, that’s for sure. Can we go in and get a better look, so I can verify we’ve got the right dog?”

  “Sure.” The farmer opened up the gate.

  Baxter and I followed him in, and the dogs instantly started barking and growling again. They backed up further into the yard as we came closer, their fur standing on end as they bared sharp, lethal looking fangs at us.

  “Hang on,” the farmer said, holding up a hand to stop me. “Why don’t you take a few steps back, Detective Chandler.”

  Wary, I did as he asked. The dogs immediately began to calm down, their barks reducing to mere growls as they stared at me. My heart sank straight into my shoes. The dogs were reacting like that to me?

  “Well, that’s interesting,” the farmer said, studying me with narrowed eyes. “They don’t seem to like you much, do they?”

  “I guess not.” I shrugged, trying not to look as self-conscious as I felt. “I can’t understand why.”

  “Well, I dunno about your pooch, but my Lara’s a pretty good judge of character,” the farmer said as Baxter crouched down in front of the dogs. He held a hand out to Sneezy, and the tiny dog approached cautiously. He sniffed Baxter’s fingers, then licked them, his tail wagging. Lara followed suit. “Looks like they like your partner well enough, though.”

  “Maybe I’ve got something on me they don’t like the smell of,” I said. “I’m usually pretty good with dogs.”

  “Yeah,” the farmer said, but he looked dubious. “Maybe.” To Baxter, he added, “Is that the dog you’re looking for?”

  “Sure is.” Baxter gathered Sneezy in his arms and turned toward us. There was a strange look in his eye as he met my gaze. One I’d seen on him before, when assessing our perps. It was almost as if he were suspicious of me, but he didn’t say anything. “Thanks so much for your help, Mr. Fletcher. We’ll get Sneezy home safe.”

  The farmer showed us out, and we headed back to the car. As soon as I fell into step beside Baxter, Sneezy started barking and growling. “There now,” Baxter soothed, stroking the Chihuahua’s camel-colored fur. He gave me that strange look again. “He really doesn’t seem to like you, does he? Do you have a cat at home or something?”

  I shook my head. “I really have no idea what it could be.”

  My gut twisted at the lie. In reality, I had a feeling that the dogs were reacting to the darkness that Father James’s power had left inside me. The darkness that was causing the headache that throbbed at my temples even now, exacerbated by the dogs’ negative reaction.

  In the end, Baxter had me drive home so that he could cuddle the dog in his lap and keep him calm.

  “There, there,” he soothed as we sped down the highway, petting the tiny animal. “I know you’re upset about leaving Lara, but it’s a little silly for you to set your sights so high.” His tone turned regretful, and somehow I didn’t think he was just talking about the mastiff. “Sometimes they’re too young, too rich, or in your case, far too big.” He chuckled a little, and ruffled the dog’s fur.

  Or too old, or too powerful, or too different, I silently added, my thoughts going to Maddock.

  The attraction between us didn’t seem to be fading, if our last two outings together were anything to judge by, and I needed to watch myself. Past Life Me might have been able to casually jump in and out of Maddock Tremaine’s bed, but somehow I doubted I would be able to escape unscathed if I did it this go around.

  By the time I got home, I wanted to collapse on my bed and sleep for a solid ten hours. The rest of the workday hadn’t been particularly taxing in terms of cases, but in addition to the headaches, I’d felt like someone was watching me for the rest of the afternoon.

  And I had a feeling it was the Morrigan.

  So instead of climbing into bed, I grabbed the iron chest from my closet and threw it open. Relief washed over me at the sight of the statue and the cylinder nestled safe inside. Maddock hadn’t told me the cylinder’s powers, but if it was anything like what the statue could do, I couldn’t let the Morrigan get her hands on it.

  I had to do something about her, not just for Maddock’s sake, but for my very sanity.

  I checked to make sure the artifacts were still shaded, then returned the chest to my bedroom closet. My stomach rumbled, so I stalled for time by heating up a TV dinner in the microwave. As I listened to the hum of the microwave, I drummed my fingers on the countertop and tried to remember the name of the phoukas I’d rescued back at the Onyx Order’s mansion. I pronounced it in my head several times, making sure that I got it right—I didn’t want to accidentally summon the wrong fae, or worse, some other kind of entity.

  The microwave timer dinged, and I pulled my piping hot mac and cheese from it. Not wanting to summon a fae on an empty stomach, I scarfed it down as fast as I could without scalding my tongue, then spent a few more minutes dusting counters and putting away dishes.

  Stop stalling already.

  “Fine,” I muttered under my breath. I stood next to the couch in my living room, then spoke the name of the phoukas out loud, hoping fervently that I’d gotten it right.

  At first, nothing happened. There was no ting
ling along my skin, no puff of smoke or wicked cackle or anything that might suggest doing magic or summoning a fae. Annoyed, I sat down on my couch with a huff and crossed my arms. What else did he want? Did I have to do some kind of ceremonial dance around the room?

  “Brooke Chandler.” The phoukas appeared in my recliner, shocking the shit out of me. I gaped as it crossed an ankle over its knee and regarded me out of inky black eyes that would have been indistinguishable from its face if not for the whites of his eyeballs. The unseelie wore some kind of red silk tunic and pants that contrasted beautifully with his pitch black skin and long, thick hair. He looked completely out of place in my living room.

  “Umm, hi,” I said lamely. “I didn’t expect you to pop in like that.”

  The phoukas raised an eyebrow—or at least I think it did. It was hard to tell since his eyebrows were black, like his skin. “Did you not summon me?” he asked in a voice like the night itself.

  “Well, yeah.” Clearing my throat, I did my best to regain my composure. “I’m calling you to collect on my favor.”

  The phoukas sat up a little straighter. “Name it.”

  “I want you to protect my Uncle Oscar.”

  “From who?”

  “The Morrigan,” I said, and the phoukas’s eyes widened. “She’s trying to blackmail me by threatening his life. I want you to stay by his side and protect him from anyone she sends after him, or from herself, if necessary.”

  “You ask a very large favor,” the phoukas said slowly as he regarded me. “It is not disproportionate to the boon you gave me, but it is perhaps not the best use of your favor.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I can do as you ask, and protect your Uncle,” the phoukas said. “But I am no match for the Morrigan. If she were to send one of her more powerful subjects, or come herself, I would not be able to stop her from killing your uncle even if I gave my life.”