“Won’t be for a few days, yet,” Sheriff Clinton said, glancing up from his phone. “We’ve got to wait for the autopsy.”
Sully nodded. Gary had watched what he ate, exercised regularly, and apart from that one Christmas festival, didn’t drink much. She wasn’t aware of him suffering from any illness. They’d have to do an autopsy to find out what had made a relatively healthy man drop dead.
“Any ideas what the cause was?” she asked the sheriff.
He grimaced. “We’re guessing it was the stab wound to the heart that did it.”
Cheryl’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Sully’s eyes widened. “Are you saying he was murdered?”
“Well, it didn’t look like he fell on the knife, or stabbed himself,” the sheriff commented dryly.
“Oh, no, poor Lucy,” Sully murmured. “I’ll go home and put together a tea for her.” She nodded to herself. “I should go visit with Gary’s mother, too.” Gary’s mother lived in a tiny cottage on the northern tip of the seaside town, along with the bulk of the null community. “She’ll be devastated.”
Sheriff Clinton nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure Mary Anne would appreciate a visit, but I don’t think a tea will help her.”
Sully smiled sadly. “Not in the usual way, but herbs can still affect a Null, just like any other person, and there’s always a little comfort to be found in a shared brew.”
She waved briefly to the sheriff and Cheryl, and was nearly at the door when she snapped her fingers. She walked back over to Mrs. Peterson, and gently placed her hand over the older woman’s.
“How are you, Mrs. Peterson?” she asked loudly so the woman could hear.
“What’s that, dear?” Mrs. Peterson leaned forward.
“I said, how are you?” Sully said as loud as she could without shouting at the woman.
She opened her shield a crack and pulled in some of the pain she could sense in the swollen knuckles, and fed some warmth through in return, laced with a little calm.
The older woman’s face creased like a scrunched-up piece of paper when she smiled up at Sully.
“I’m doing well, Sully,” she said in her wavery voice.
“You’re looking nice today. I like your dress,” Sully said, gently patting the back of the woman’s hand. She could already sense the easing of tension in the old woman as her arthritic pain subsided.
“What mess?” Mrs. Peterson glanced down in confusion at the table.
“Your dress,” Sully repeated. “I like your dress.” Pity she couldn’t do anything about the woman’s hearing—but she was an empath witch, not a god.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Mrs. Peterson said, and her face scrunched up even further as her smile broadened.
Sully nodded and winked, then turned in the direction of the door, cradling her hand on the top of her satchel. She closed her mental walls, ensuring nothing else leaked in she wasn’t ready for. She walked on toward the door and waved at Harold when he signaled her. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you something back later, too, Harold.” She wagged a finger at him. “But you really do need to lay off the shellfish.”
She pushed through the door, her smile tightening as the pain in her hand throbbed. Poor Mrs. Peterson. That really was a painful condition.
She skipped down the steps and dusted her hands as she walked to her car. To anyone else it looked like she was shaking black pepper off her hands as she discarded the pain she’d drawn in from Mrs. Peterson.
She considered the teas she’d make for Lucy and Mary Anne Adler as she climbed into her car. Lemon balm, linden and motherwort, she decided. They each had a calming effect, and the motherwort would be especially helpful with the heartache and grief. She waited for a motorcycle to turn across the intersection in front of her, and then pulled out. She sighed. Poor Gary. Murdered. Who would do such a thing?
Copyright © 2018 by Shannon Curtis
ISBN-13: 9781488094255
Legendary Beast
Copyright © 2018 by Barbara J. Hancock
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Legendary Beast Page 26