by Anya Nowlan
So she kept her eyes on the road, focusing on the familiar route home. There was some comfort in the fact that some things always stayed the same. She broke the quiet in the car as they pulled up to her home, a small house nestled at the end of a street filled with a row of similar buildings.
“We’re here,” she said, making Melanie look up. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”
They got out of the car and walked to the house, where Melanie had been many times before. But never under such somber circumstances. Naomi led her inside, locking the door after them.
It was important that Melanie felt safe there.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Naomi asked.
Fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, Melanie shook her head.
“I’d rather take a shower,” she said. “I still feel… sticky.”
“Go right ahead,” Naomi nodded. “There are fresh towels in the cupboard.”
Watching Melanie walk to the back of the house toward the bathroom, Naomi had to stop herself from following, from asking if she was okay. God, how she had hated that kind of thing after her parents had died.
Like accompanying me everywhere with pitying looks is going to help, she had thought back then, annoyed with everyone’s constant attention.
Only now did she really understand what it must have been like on the other side.
Sighing, she started rummaging through her fridge. There had to be something in there she could convince Melanie to eat. But before she could get through the rows of take-out boxes, a knock at the door made her stop dead.
On the other side of the house, the sound of water hitting tile echoed out, and Naomi was determined to get rid of whoever had thought this was the right time for an unannounced visit.
But when she walked over and swung the door open, she was suddenly face to face with Detective Hill.
“Can I come in?” the man asked, brushing past her.
Dumbfounded, Naomi stood in the doorway for a moment.
“People usually wait for an answer to that,” she remarked, closing the door after Hill.
“This is urgent,” he replied, looking around the house before fixing his gaze on her. “Where is Mrs. Jones?”
“In the shower,” Naomi shrugged, eyeing the detective.
There was something about his demeanor that put her on edge. She didn’t remember the man being so rude, and the way he looked at her suddenly gave her the creeps.
“I need to talk to her,” he stated, glancing over to the back of the house.
“I said she’s in the shower,” Naomi said, crossing her arms. “And you can’t just come barging in here…” she started.
“I can do whatever I want,” Hill replied, an odd grin spreading over his face.
The skin on the back of Naomi’s neck prickled, and the sense that something was off kept growing in her gut.
What the hell is going on?
Six
Sawyer
Pacing around his apartment, Sawyer couldn’t get Naomi Moore out of his head. It had taken guts to show up at his place with the story she had, and she must have known how it would most likely turn out.
But she came anyway, desperate to help her friend.
Loyalty was something Sawyer had great respect for. So why hadn’t he helped her?
Because there is no such thing as demons, he reminded himself.
Could he really be sure of that, though? It wasn’t that long ago that people didn’t believe in shifters, yet they were very real. And while he no longer kept in touch with the wolf pack he was born into, some whispers had reached Sawyer.
Pinedale, Wyoming, hadn’t been his home for decades, but the wolves there were still his brothers. So when the passing of the Alpha title caused a stir, Sawyer kept his ears open. Things seemed to have worked out well since then, but not all the things he had heard from fellow wolves seemed to make sense.
It’s none of my business anymore, he told himself, as he found himself clutching his phone tightly in his hand.
His wolf disagreed, growling in his chest, and pawing at him. Naomi had opened up something inside him that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he wanted to. And his damn curiosity got the better of him as he dialed the number of Tate Silver, new Alpha of the Pinedale wolf pack, and an old friend.
As the phone rang, Sawyer had just enough time to second-guess himself. Calling Tate up like this, out of the blue… It couldn’t have been a good idea.
“Hello?” a gruff voice sounded in Sawyer’s ear.
Now it was too late to hang up. And in his heart, Sawyer knew he should have made this call a long time ago.
“Tate. It’s me, Sawyer,” he said. “Blake,” he added after a brief moment.
“Sawyer,” Tate replied, perking up. “Hey, man. How have you been?” he asked, and Sawyer could hear the smile in his voice.
“Good, good,” he replied, because what else was he supposed to say? ‘I’m drinking myself down the river and bitching and moaning as I go?’ Not exactly a good starter. “Congratulations are in order for you, though,” he added. “Alpha, engaged to your mate… How did you get so grown-up and responsible all of the sudden?” he joked.
“It just kind of crept up on me, I guess,” Tate laughed. “And Tessa is the best thing that ever happened to me,” he added. “That’s my fiancée.”
“I heard,” Sawyer nodded. “That’s great, man.”
In the shifter world, finding your mate was a big deal, on the same level as becoming Alpha of a pack. It was like finding the missing part of your soul, if other wolves were to be believed. The connection a mated pair shared was said to be incomparable to anything else.
That had always seemed a little exaggerated to Sawyer, but then again, the happiness in Tate’s voice was hard to miss.
“And how are you?” Tate asked. “I tried reaching out after what happened in New York…” he trailed off, sounding hesitant.
“I needed some time alone,” Sawyer quickly said, not wanting to get into it.
“Well, it’s good to hear from you,” Tate replied. “I heard you moved to Arizona?”
“Tempe,” Sawyer confirmed. “I work as a consultant with the police department, now. That kind of has a little to do with why I’m calling you,” he said, sinking into his couch to stop himself from pacing around.
After all this time, and after all the calls from him Sawyer had ignored, Tate still talked to him like nothing was wrong. Like they were just catching up. And Sawyer was surprised at just how good that felt.
And it pained him to be calling for a favor, not for an apology for ignoring his childhood friend for so long.
Tate’s tone turned more serious.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Sawyer admitted. “There’s this case…” he trailed off, not knowing exactly how to put it. “Just stop me right now if this is total bullshit, but I heard you had something to do with a… magic book?”
He winced just saying that aloud. The stories that had drifted his way had to be just that – stories. Right?
On the other end, Tate sighed.
“Who knew wolves were such gossips, huh?” he joked, but his tone remained serious.
“So it’s true?” Sawyer asked, eyes widening.
“Why don’t you tell me about this case of yours,” the man replied. “Before I make myself sound like a crazy person.”
“A woman came to see me,” Sawyer started. “Saying that her friend’s husband was killed by a demon.”
That sentence hung in the air for a moment longer than was comfortable. And when Tate finally spoke, there was tension in his voice.
“I guess I’m going to have to sound crazy after all,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Sawyer asked.
“Demons are real, Sawyer,” Tate replied. “I’ve seen if for myself. They’re as real as me and you, and they’re as nasty as they come.”
Stunned, Sawyer sat o
n his couch, wondering if he had really heard that right.
I guess I have more catching up to do than I thought.
Having been glued to his phone for the past half an hour, Sawyer quietly absorbed what Tate had been telling him. Not only were demons real, they were vicious creatures that used magic to cross over to the human realm, mostly to cause chaos and pain.
Tate had gotten sucked into that world thanks to his mate, who used to run an antique store and stumbled upon an amulet she never should have stumbled upon. Assuring Sawyer the situation got handled with minimal injuries to the wolves in the pack, Tate wrapped up his story.
“I don’t really know that much about how the creatures operate. As far as I understand, there are different types of demons, with different… skills, you could say. But there’s someone who knows more,” he said.
“Who?” Sawyer immediately asked.
“A woman came to our lands last year, looking for the amulet Tessa found. Turns out, she’s from some sort of demon-hunting family. And in an odd twist of events, she’s also Wes’ mate,” Tate replied.
“Wes, too?” Sawyer arched a brow. “Damn, are there any single wolves left out there?”
“Just you,” Tate laughed. “But anyway, her name is Dakota, and she knows a whole lot more than I do. I can give you her number. She doesn’t always pick up, but if she does, you can tell her you’re my friend.”
“I don’t think I’ll bother her just yet,” Sawyer replied. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but even if demons are real, it doesn’t mean the woman who came to see me is actually dealing with one. She could just be a run of the mill crazy person.”
“True,” Tate admitted. “But on the off chance she isn’t loony… Just watch your back, Sawyer. These creatures are ruthless, and powerful. And if humans catch on to their existence, it will be panic on the streets.”
“I’ll be careful,” Sawyer replied.
There were a thousand thoughts running through his head – like if he had ever investigated a crime committed by a demon and never even known it? And was it possible Naomi’s friend actually saw one of these creatures?
If she did – and it was a big ‘if’ – then Naomi was right – the cops would be useless.
“I’ll text you Dakota’s number,” Tate said. “And Sawyer – it was good to hear from you. Let’s not let years go by before we talk again.”
Sawyer didn’t know what to say. After pushing everyone away the way he had, what could he say?
“Thank you, Tate,” he finally replied. “Take care.”
“You, too.”
Ending the call, Sawyer tapped his fingers on the edge of the couch, feeling more restless than he had in a long time. There was a war going on inside him, and he didn’t know which side would win.
In the end, he knew he couldn’t just sit by when he was possibly the only person in Tempe who could actually help Naomi. Did he want to get involved in some weird-ass demonic shit? Not particularly. But then again, things had been kind of dull lately…
And I wouldn’t mind seeing that pretty face again, the thought slipped through, as Naomi flitted through his mind.
Sighing, he dialed another number. Hill picked up only after a couple of rings.
“Hey,” Sawyer said. “I need you to look up an address for me.”
Seven
Naomi
Standing in the middle of her living room, Naomi wondered – had Hill been this creepy the last time she met him, and she just hadn’t noticed, as in shock as she had been? Or had something changed between their last meeting and now?
Whatever the case, the detective had gone from rude to downright unsettling, as he studied her with an odd expression on his face.
“I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” he said.
“What?” Naomi blurted out, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hill was about to answer, when another knock on the door made Naomi spin around.
Really? Who the hell could this be?
“Excuse me,” she said to Hill, somewhat relieved she didn’t have to focus all her attention on him anymore.
On the other side of the house, the water had stopped, and it was only a matter of time before Melanie came back. Naomi had a feeling her friend would not appreciate the sudden influx of visitors.
Pulling the door open, Naomi glanced back at Hill, strolling around her living room and studying her shelves. When she turned back to the door, though, she had to stop her mouth from gaping open.
“Sawyer?” she asked, raising her brows.
He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. Damned if he didn’t look even better than she remembered, though. But, she also remembered how they had left things.
“Come to haul me off to the nuthouse?” she asked, her hand flying to her hip.
“No,” he replied simply. “I came to hear you out.”
Now that was a turn of events she hadn’t foreseen. Flustered, Naomi wasn’t sure if she should invite him inside or not. Melanie was bound to step into the living room at any moment, and seeing the detective there would be disruptive enough without a beefy stranger hanging around as well.
But, Naomi had been the one to barge in on Sawyer, so sending him away now would be kind of hypocritical. And she did still want his help.
“All right,” she said after a moment. “Come in. Oh, there’s a detective here, too,” she added, gesturing him inside.
Sawyer stepped into the room, his head on a swivel. When his gaze stopped on Hill, he looked surprised, and maybe a little taken aback.
“Hill,” he said, shocking Naomi. “How did you get here so fast?” he asked, as the detective turned around.
“So I’m guessing you two know each other,” Naomi commented.
Beside her, Sawyer drew in a deep breath, tensing as soon as he did.
“Who are you?” he demanded, glaring at Hill with a growl in his voice.
His friendly demeanor gone, Naomi was definitely getting a glimpse of Sawyer’s shifter side. She felt goosebumps prickling on her skin, the obvious sensation of being around something she didn’t understand creeping down her spine.
“You just said his name,” Naomi threw her hands up, feeling like she was slowly slipping into an episode of the Twilight Zone. “What do you mean ‘who are you’?”
“That’s not Detective Hill,” Sawyer snarled, putting himself between her and the detective.
What?
Throwing his head back, Hill let out an echoing laugh. Behind him, Melanie appeared in the hallway, looking as perplexed as Naomi felt.
Something was very wrong, that much Naomi knew. Did Hill have some kind of an evil twin she didn’t know about? No, that only happened in bad movies.
“Melanie,” she called out, frantically waving at her.
Whatever was going on, Naomi had to trust her gut – and her gut had been telling her there was something off about Hill even before Sawyer showed up.
“Ah, the woman I came to see,” Hill grinned, turning toward Melanie.
She froze in the hallway, her gaze darting around, moving from Hill to Naomi to Sawyer.
“Take another step,” Sawyer warned, inching closer to Hill, or not Hill, as the case might have been. “And I’ll rip your throat out.”
Whoa.
There was a steely edge to Sawyer’s tone that left Naomi with no doubts about whether he would carry out that threat. She still wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but if Sawyer said the man in her living room wasn’t Hill…
He was acting strange, she thought, narrowing her eyes at the detective.
Wearing Naomi’s bathrobe, her wet hair falling down her back, Melanie made a dash for it, rushing past Hill and running to Naomi’s side. She immediately wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders.
“What’s going on?” Melanie whispered.
“If only I knew,” Naomi replied, throwing Sawyer a questioning look.
“I know Detectiv
e Hill. I’ve worked with him. I know his scent. And this man does not smell like Hill,” Sawyer announced. “In fact, he doesn’t smell human at all.”
That struck Naomi like a sledgehammer.
Not… human? her mind sputtered, even as she realized she should have made the connection already.
“He’s the monster,” she said quietly, squeezing Melanie closer to her side.
“A demon,” Sawyer replied, his choice of words sending a jolt through her.
Fake Hill let out an exaggerated sigh, looking down at himself.
“The cat is out of the bag,” he said, his voice now markedly different from that of the real Hill.
There was a strange rhythm to his words, lilted and clipped, unlike any accent Naomi had ever heard. But wait, no. Had she heard it before? Something terrible pushed at the edges of her mind, but she kept it back.
“Who are you?” Sawyer demanded again, earning an annoyed look from fake Hill.
Sweeping a hand down the front of his suit jacket, the man’s frame began to ripple and fade, until the tall, black man that had been standing in front of them grew even taller, his shoulders stretching wider.
The mask of Detective Hill slowly faded away, the soft features of the handsome detective replaced by a sharply short nose and eyes that were too far apart. Naomi blinked, only kept grounded in reality by Melanie, whose fingers were now digging into her arm.
Her father’s voice echoed through her mind, the fear in his voice grating as memories started to flood back.
Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my house? he had said.
With that, everything went crashing into place. Naomi stared at the creature in her living room, locking her knees so it wouldn’t be obvious how they were trembling. It was a face she had seen before, almost fifteen years ago.
And since then, in her nightmares.