“Coffee,” she asked in a soft, sweet voice. I almost didn’t trust it, but I shook that feeling off. It was my little sister, Twyla, not some demon or deranged fae. I took the coffee and thanked her, sliding into a seat at the table. “How did you sleep?” she asked me.
“Um. Fine. It was a little strange to be back in my old room.” Not as strange as the look on her face just now. For all her soft sweetness, Twyla was one strange little creature.
She sat down at the table with her own cup and sipped, her eyes staring straight into me. “Did you see Aster yesterday?”
“Yeah. I cleared out some land. I’m going to exterminate some freak goat-eating human for her today.”
“You found a creature on her land.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I did. I’ll get rid of it for her so no one needs to pressure me about it.”
“This creature will force your hand,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“Okay.” I needed to change the subject. “So. How do you like being a mother?” I asked her.
“Lenore is a treasure,” she said, pressing her hand to her heart.
“Who’s her dad?” I asked, realizing too late that it was kind of a rude question.
“Her father is Oren, prince of the fae,” she said, her slender white hands wrapped around her mug for warmth.
“Really?”
“It happened before he opened the portal and left.”
“He got you pregnant?” I said through clenched teeth. This guy was the reason Dad was dead. “That means Lenore is half-fae.”
“She is a powerful being. Her ability is greater than my own. Sometimes I find it challenging to guide her. But I think it’s like that for most parents. Iona and Aster agree.”
“Right,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. My brain needed to wake up. This conversation felt like it was about to go over the deep end. Twyla was a sensitive soul, no matter how dangerous she sometimes could be. “Do you think Mom still has my clothes?” I asked, changing the subject again.
“Of course. They are in her craft room. She repaired the leg of your pants.”
“Really?” I stood so quickly I nearly knocked over the chair I’d been sitting in. I strode to the double doors leading to my mother’s craft room, Twyla right behind me holding her coffee cup. I pushed open the door and flipped on the light. There on my mom’s craft table was my Executioner’s uniform, perfectly clean and repaired.
A smile cracked across my lips and I hurried to scoop everything up. I couldn’t wait a single second to get my clothes back on and feel the power of the runes running over my skin. “Tell Mother thank you,” I said, hurrying out of the craft room and toward the stairs.
“Thank you for what?” I heard Mother’s voice coming from upstairs.
“Fixing my uniform,” I told her as I passed her on the landing. “I’m going to need these if I’m going to defeat the goat guy.”
“You’re welcome,” my mother said, carefully walking down the stairs in her flower-printed, frilly robe. She disappeared at the bottom of the stairs, and I hurried to the second floor bathroom to shower and change. I was still covered in dirt and my own blood from the day before and really could use a shower.
In the bathroom, the smell of decorative scented soaps and candles assaulted my nose. Everything was so delicate and girly I almost cringed. But style didn’t much matter when all you needed was to get clean. I grabbed a soap from the counter and climbed into the warm stream of water pouring from the brass showerhead into the claw foot tub.
It felt so damn good to get clean that I didn’t care that I smelled like honeysuckle and roses when I got out. My hair was clean and my skin was free of blood and dirt. I couldn’t ask for much more. I dried my hair, tying it behind my neck after I pulled my normal clothes back on.
Feeling much more myself, I practically skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen when I was done. I found Mom, Twyla, and Lenore eating waffles at the kitchen table as the morning sun peeked through the gingham-curtained windows. Mother looked up at me and her bright smile turned to a frown.
“You can’t go around dressed like that,” she said.
“I need these clothes to take care of Aster’s goat-eater. Don’t you want me to help her?”
“Of course, dear. But you can’t go around dressed like that in Portland. You look like the heroine in some action movie.”
I looked down at my head-to-toe black leather and shrugged. “People in Portland dress freakier than this,” I said, defending my look. It might be Executioner standard issue, but it suited me personally. I liked the way it looked and felt. But Nelly Fanning wasn’t having any of it. She pressed her finger to her lips and shook her head.
“No. I think not.” She snapped her fingers and a cold panic poured over my shoulders as I felt the burst of her magic twirl around me. I looked down at myself and found what looked like a hip business casual outfit. Dark pants, heeled boots, and a navy blue tank under a trendy suit jacket. I narrowed my eyes, almost ready to snap at her. But I felt the buzz of the runes still flowing over my skin.
“I just disguised you so you can blend in.” She winked at me. “You’re welcome.”
“Mmkay. Thanks.” Better to blend in with my surroundings. Usually I only wore this at night when I worked. During the day, I generally just slept or hung out at home.
“Are you going to meet Raven today?” Twyla asked me, standing from the table to pull another waffle from the iron. She set it on a plate and sat it on the table in front of me. I looked down at it. The smell of my mother’s waffle recipe was too much to resist so I sat as Twyla poured me another cup of coffee.
“He said he’d meet me today. I figured I’d take a look in the family archives.”
“Margery has the archives in her office at the university,” Mother said with a hint of mirth. I almost spit my coffee out at the mention of my older sister’s name. Margery was the one Fanning I could not take seeing. My goal was to avoid her like the plague until I got the sword and left.
“Maybe I’ll use the Hunter’s grimoires,” I muttered.
“Raven said he’d meet you after breakfast. He has something to tell you.”
“How do you know that?” I said, looking at Twyla. Her prophecies usually weren’t that direct.
“He texted me on the witch network.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve got an extra cellphone with the app already installed,” my mother said like she’d just remembered the cure for cancer. Which, I was sure Iona knew. But that wasn’t the point. Nelly stood and hurried to her craft room, her fluffy bathrobe swirling around her white feet that were painted with hot pink nail polish. She came back a moment later holding an old flip phone from 1999. I looked at the thing like it was a poisonous snake.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“It has service. You can use it as a phone and the witch network is already installed. I’ll text Raven your number.”
“Great,” I muttered, shoving the phone into the pocket of my jacket. I shoveled waffles into my mouth and chugged the rest of my coffee. I would need my strength to keep up with these people. The goat guy worried me less than the women in my family. But I had to get the goat guy to get them to trust me enough to give me the sword.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, standing over my empty plate. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Where are you running off to so early?” Mother asked.
Anywhere but here.
“I need to get some supplies,” I lied. I just wanted to get out of Nelly Fanning’s kitchen. Going upstairs to sulk in my teenage bedroom was a much less appealing option than just driving around Portland until I could think of some solution to Aster’s goat-eater problem.
Chapter 12
Sitting behind the wheel of my car, I gripped the steering wheel and groaned. This was proving to be more difficult by the moment. My mother’s constant interference with my appearance, everyone pushing me to spend
time with Raven, and their general attitude about my absence was grating at every last nerve. If they wanted to encourage me to stick around, they weren’t doing a very good job of it.
I turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway. When I turned onto the main road leading toward downtown, I considered getting on the freeway and speeding south until I hit the California border. By the time I made it there, I’d be too far gone to come back. Just when I moved into the turn lane to the freeway, the phone rang.
I glanced at the ancient flip phone sitting on the passenger seat of my Camaro and frowned. Answering it was the last thing I wanted to do, but guilt and the need to get Benedictus changed my mind. I growled and grabbed the phone, checking the caller ID quickly as I turned onto the freeway on-ramp.
I saw an impossibly detailed picture of Raven’s face. As soon as I looked at it, recorded words spoke in his voice. “Meet me at the entrance to Forest Park in fifteen minutes.” The message ended and I threw the phone back on my seat as I merged onto the freeway.
Great. Now I had to turn around. If Raven had information about the goat eater, I could get the kill, get the sword, and get out of here before my mom made me blonde again.
I got off the freeway and headed back north, taking the highway east toward the vast city park. When I arrived in the parking lot, my phone pinged again. Raven’s scowling face showed up on my tiny flip phone and his irritable voice chirped over some unknown speaker. “Are you here yet?” it asked me.
I had no idea how to respond, so I craned my neck, searching the packed parking lot for the raven-haired detective. I found him beside a black SUV, his hands on his slim hips, and a frown on his face. I pulled in beside him and got out, my irritation equal to his.
“I got here as fast as I could,” I grumbled, slamming my door.
“There’s something you need to see. It’s a crime scene. I assume as an Executioner, you can handle it.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”
“Civilians aren’t allowed on crime scenes so put this on.” He handed me a laminated ID card, strung around a thick cloth cord. It read, “Special Investigation Unit” and had a picture of my face on it.
“How did you get this?” I asked him, following him down the paved trail that led into the park.
“Even shamans have tricks up their sleeves,” he said, cryptically. I looked at him sideways. I knew Raven. Producing pictures out of thin air was not one of his skills. “I got it from your mother,” he finally admitted.
“Oh.” It was one of Nelly Fanning’s skills. I should have known. There was some kind of conspiracy going on with my family and the Hunters, and I didn’t want anything to do with it. “Why did my mother give you a picture of me?”
“So I could make this ID. She sent it over the witch network fifteen minutes ago, and I had it laminated at headquarters.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“Because you need to see this. After the goat on Aster and Bear’s land, this latest homicide is incredibly suspicious.”
“Homicide?”
“Just come on,” he grumbled, leading me into the dense forest off the main trail. We hiked probably half a mile into the park, where few hikers dared to travel, when the buzz of voices and the snapping of cameras echoed from behind the tall fir trees.
As the scene came into view, I noticed the forensics specialists and detectives already on the scene, hovering over the tatters of clothing partially covered in dirt. Drawing closer, the smell of decay hit my nose. Peeking into the pit behind the police tape, I saw the remains of what had probably been a jogger. Mid-twenties, fit, wearing spandex pants and a tank top.
One of the man’s arms had been chewed down to the bone. There was no other way of describing it. There were sharp claw marks across his chest, and bite gouges on his neck, which appeared snapped.
“See the bite marks?” Raven asked me, pointing to the arm and neck. “Notice the shape of the teeth?”
“I do,” I said. The teeth were flat, like a human’s incisors. Not sharp like a predator’s should be. Whatever ate his guy probably walked upright.
He led me away, under the cover of a tree and out of earshot of the other police investigators. “They’re human,” he said.
“Looks that way,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because whatever ate that goat just upped its game. Murder is a far cry from livestock theft, don’t you think?”
“Why is this my problem?”
He cocked back his head and sighed, slapping his palm to his thigh. “Because, Olivia, that thing started on your sister’s land. Doesn’t that worry you in the least?”
It did actually worry me. Aster was pregnant and had a small child. Whatever monster ate this jogger could take down a baby or a pregnant woman without batting an eye if it could take down a big, muscular man like the victim lying in the ditch behind me.
“Of course I am, but I’m not accustomed to doing police work.”
“Olivia, we haven’t had a supernatural homicide in five years. Not since your father died. God rest his soul. We aren’t equipped to deal with these things. It isn’t as if the Portland PD has a supernatural task force. These humans are completely in the dark about that kind of thing, and we all want to keep it that way.”
“Yeah, yeah. No one likes a witch hunt. This just isn’t my job. I work for the Council of Elders.”
“The Elders are extremely invested in keeping the paranormal world a secret from humanity. Even if you aren’t supposed to freelance, we are all working for the same goal here.”
He had a point. No one wanted the humans to know about our existence. It would be dangerous for us all. While paranormals had more power than humans, humans outnumbered us by a million to one. If they turned on the paranormal creatures in the world, we’d be exterminated. We’d seen it happen too many times in the past, enough that our kind had gone underground, living in the shadows of mythology and legend.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, feeling more helpful than usual. I’d already agreed to find the goat guy. The only difference now was that goat guy had turned into cannibal guy.
“This situation just became a hundred times more dangerous. We need to work together to take this guy out. I’m willing to let go of the past so we can protect our families. I won’t mention your help to my contact with the Council. We won’t get them involved.”
“Damn straight you won’t get them involved,” I said, “And who said anything about the past? What happened between us was a long time ago. Already forgotten.”
He squinted at me, the lines around his eyes deepening while his brows shadowed them. The corner of his mouth twitched into a frown then he pursed his lips. Crossing his arms he stared at me. Maybe I’d hurt him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Right,” he said, turning away. “It was nothing.”
I had hurt him. I hadn’t meant to. I just didn’t want to get into it again. I’d loved him more than words could say. More than I could even admit to myself. It was one of those mind-blowing, forever after kinds of love, but that was all gone now. No reason to dig up the painful past.
“If we’re going to work together on this, we need to forget about the past.”
“I know,” he said. His face was still turned away. I could see his shoulders rise and fall as if he was breathing deeply. “I’ll text you the results of the autopsy later. We’re guessing cause of death is a broken neck. Whoever did this was incredibly strong.”
“The man I saw at Aster’s farm was about five foot eight and out of shape.”
Raven turned back to me at that, looking confused. “He’s enchanted or cursed or something. It would contribute to supernatural strength. Don’t you think?”
“But why? That’s the question. What would make an ordinary man suddenly become super strong with a taste for raw flesh?”
“I don’t know, Olivia. That’s why I need your help to fi
nd out.”
“I need to research the Hunter family grimoires for clues,” I said. Without the Council’s archives the only other option was going to Margery, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to do that.
“The family grimoire is at Bear’s house,” he said. “I’ll meet you there later this afternoon.
Chapter 13
I pulled up to Aster’s farm at about two in the afternoon. When I got out of the car, I saw Aster bent over a bed of zucchini, Puma toddling around in the rows of squashes. She stood and shielded her eyes from the sun, smiling brightly in greeting.
Her happiness to see me made me almost take a step backwards. Why my family’s affection was so off-putting remained a mystery to me. It shouldn’t be. Normal people liked affection. They enjoyed the worth of familial love. Why couldn’t I?
Before I’d become a morose teen, I’d loved my family. I’d been full of hugs and joy and life, singing at the family Christmas parties and giving candies to all our guests as they arrived. I’d been that kid. That was before my talents for killing began to develop.
After Dad died, I couldn’t even look my family in the eye anymore, let alone let them love me. I didn’t deserve it. I’d let them all down.
“Hi!” Aster said, waving. She picked up Puma and strode over to me. Standing behind the wire deer fence with her baby on her hip, her ripe belly poked out from under her cropped hemp tank top. She’d dyed the tips of her dreadlocks purple, accentuating each strand.
“Did you hear from Raven?” I asked her.
“No. What’s up?”
“There was a murder at Forest Park,” I said, stopping to gauge her reaction.
“Oh no. What happened?”
“A jogger was killed. There were markings on his body that looked like the same bites as were on the goat.”
“What? You said a human had been eating that goat. Someone…ate a jogger?” Aster began moving around to the gate, her face gripped by horror.
“It has similar bite marks,” I said as she closed the gate behind her. She stared at me, clutching Puma to her chest. “The jogger’s neck was snapped. It must have taken quite a bit of strength to snap that man’s neck. He was big and fit. The man I saw out on your property was probably five foot eight and not exactly athletic. He looked middle-aged and out of shape. I have no doubt it was the same man. He must have been cursed or enchanted. But I have no idea how. I need to use the Hunter family grimoires.”
Shifter Overdrive (Paranormal Romance Boxed Set) Page 86