Shadows & Dreams (Kate Kane: Paranormal Investigator)

by Hall, Alexis

  Riptide Publishing

  PO Box 6652

  Hillsborough, NJ 08844

  http://www.riptidepublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Shadows & Dreams (Kate Kane, Paranormal Investigator #2)

  Copyright © 2014 by Alexis Hall

  Cover Art by Kanaxa, www.kanaxa.com

  Editor: Sarah Frantz

  Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at marketing@riptidepublishing.com.

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-100-7

  First edition

  June, 2014

  Also available in paperback:

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-101-4

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  Second rule in this line of business: be careful who you kill.

  My name’s Kate Kane. And right now, I don’t know which is more dangerous: my job, or my girlfriend. My job makes me the go-to girl for every supernatural mystery in London. My girlfriend’s an eight-hundred-year-old vampire prince. Honestly, I think it’s probably a tie.

  A few weeks ago, I was hired for a simple missing person case. Next thing I know, I’m being arrested for murder, a vampire army is tearing up London, and even my dreams are out to get me. Something ancient, evil, and scary as hell is on the loose and looking for payback. The vampires are in chaos, the werewolves are culling everything, and the Witch Queen can’t protect everyone.

  Which means it’s down to me. And all I’ve got to hold back the shadows is a stiff drink, a quirky sidekick, my creepy ex-boyfriend, and the woman who left me for a tech start-up. It’s going to be another interesting day.

  To H, again

  About Shadows & Dreams

  Prologue: Lovers & Murders

  Chapter 1: Brothers & Bureaucrats

  Chapter 2: Abductions & Arguments

  Chapter 3: Questions & Cellars

  Chapter 4: Exes & Apple Juice

  Chapter 5: Dinner & Wankers

  Chapter 6: News & Regrets

  Chapter 7: Fighting & Fucking

  Chapter 8: Hippos & Heroes

  Chapter 9: Lockes & Doors

  Chapter 10: Witches & Warlocks

  Chapter 11: Friends & Lovers

  Chapter 12: Rescues & Calls

  Chapter 13: Dust & Ashes

  Chapter 14: Vampires & Champagne

  Chapter 15: Trains & Tupperware

  Chapter 16: Angels & Demons

  Chapter 17: Shadows & Dreams

  Chapter 18: Wolves & Lambs

  Chapter 19: Kissing & Telling

  Chapter 20: Breaking & Entering

  Chapter 21: Blood & Glass

  Chapter 22: Metal & Feathers

  Chapter 23: Lions & Wolves

  Chapter 24: Conflicts & Resolutions

  Chapter 25: Patrick & Sofia

  Chapter 26: Serpents & Gifts

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Alexis Hall

  About the Author

  Enjoyed this Book?

  My name’s Kane, Kate Kane. I’m a private investigator, operating out of a dingy office just off Bow Street.

  Thirty-something years ago, my deranged faery queen of a mother left me on my dad’s doorstep wrapped in a wolf skin, in a basket made of briars.

  Fifteen years ago, I was deep in the closet, dating a vampire dickhead who hated himself, failing my A-levels, and trying to come to terms with being a faery princess. A faery princess with a bunch of scary hunter powers and a mum who keeps trying to take over her body.

  Ten years ago, I’d dumped the vampire, moved to London, done a BTEC in private investigation, and got a job with a bloke named Archer.

  Last year, I split up with my long-term girlfriend, slept with a client, and got my partner killed (not entirely in that order).

  Three months ago, I was hired by Julian Saint-Germain, one of the four most powerful vampires in England, to investigate a murder at one of her clubs. I saved her from a crazy faery sewer lord, but along the way, I ended up striking a deal with a giant rat gestalt, swearing fealty to the Witch Queen of London, and playing sex chicken with an alpha werewolf. Also, I sort of accidentally killed a thousand-year-old vampire prince.

  Oh, and me and Julian are sort of seeing each other.

  Snow was falling through silver mist on the Dream of a city.

  I edged forwards over the icy bridge, my sword raised to strike. The Sorceress raised her hand to the pearl-grey sky. The clouds cracked open. I threw myself aside, and a lance of green-tinted lightning struck the place where I’d just been standing. I rolled to my feet and charged.

  Our blades met in silence.

  The snow glistened on the edge of my sword and dusted the dark green coils of the Sorceress’s unbound hair.

  I wrapped my free hand round her sword arm and pinned it against my body, turning my own blade back to bring the point level with her throat.

  She smiled. Her eyes gleamed like absinthe behind her ornate mask. She leaned towards me and ran her fingers gently across my cheek. In the half light, her nails sparkled, bright as emeralds.

  I ran my sword through her throat.

  She billowed into green smoke and dissipated into the mist.

  I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and the taste of wormwood. I’d been having these dreams since I’d sworn fealty to Nimue. Sometimes it was a lady in green, sometimes it was a giant pig, sometimes it was shadowy armies, and once it had been this weird monster with a snake’s head, a lion’s body, and rabbit’s feet that I’d chased in circles and then lost somewhere in Seven Dials.

  To be honest, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my new nighttime adventures, and I missed the days when the dreams I remembered involved three nuns and a set of handcuffs. But Nim had given me her help when I’d asked for it, and it could have been a lot worse.

  There was a knock on the door. “It is eight o’clock, Miss Kane.”

  Speaking of deals with supernatural beings. Elise had been foisted on me by a crazy rat god as the price for some annoyingly vague information. She turned out to be an animated statue, but she doesn’t take up much space, she brews a mean cup of coffee, and she fixed my washing machine. So it was working out pretty
well.

  I pulled on my fluffy dressing gown and went through to the living room. There was a mug of coffee and a banana waiting for me on the dining table. Elise was a big believer in the practical value of the humble banana.

  I do not like bananas.

  “Did you sleep well?” asked Elise.

  She still looked like a supermodel, but since she’d started buying her own clothes, she’d taken to dressing like a librarian. She was currently wearing a long tweed skirt and a silk blouse with a grey woollen cardigan over the top. She told me once that she chose her clothes partly for their texture. I unloaded her laundry a couple of weeks ago and she’s got some of the nicest underwear I’ve ever seen. And I like to think I’m an expert.

  “Same old, same old.” I slumped down at the table. “Misty London, scary chick in green, faint sexual undertone.”

  “I am concerned, Miss Kane. Restful sleep is a necessary biological function. I do not believe this can be good for you.”

  “Elise, I drink, I smoke, I’m dating a vampire.” I picked up the banana and waved it under her nose. “Apart from these, I don’t think I do anything that’s good for me.”

  “That is poor reasoning. The fact that you undertake many activities that are harmful to you should lead you to minimise risks in other areas of your life. But I am pleased you are still eating your bananas.”

  I diligently ate my banana, finished my coffee, and got dressed. By the time I got down to the car, Elise was settled in the driver’s seat and was programming the TomTom. Since Elise doesn’t eat and only pays me a nominal rent, she spends most of her salary on gadgets. My flat is piling up with coffeemakers, sandwich toasters, automatic coin sorters, and hard-core power tools. She also has this remote control helicopter, but after the incident with my drinks cabinet, she’s no longer allowed to use it in the flat.

  I got in and buckled up. I never used to be comfortable in the passenger seat. It was kind of a control thing. But driving makes Elise so damn happy that I feel like a dick saying she can’t. And I’ve come to appreciate the headspace. Or the extra twenty minutes sleep.

  A lilting Welsh woman instructed us to turn left out of the driveway.

  I gestured at the TomTom on the dashboard. “You’ve been driving us to work for three months now. Why do you need a satnav?”

  “I thought it would be useful to have a second opinion.”

  “And I don’t count, do I?”

  “Your voice is not so pleasant, Miss Kane.”

  “What’s wrong with my voice?”

  “I do apologise. I was merely teasing. I assure you, your voice is sweet and melodious.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Sometime later, the Welsh woman helpfully informed us that we had arrived at our destination, and we went up to the office. Archer’s name was still on the door, but Elise had taken his desk. She’d made a few other changes too, like getting the paperwork off the floor and into the filing cabinet, and I had about half as many unprocessed invoices and unpaid bills as I’d had three months ago.

  We were just wrapping up the Fletcher case. Mrs. Fletcher had hired us to find out if her husband was cheating on her. That sort of job is the bread and butter of the detective business, but it’s fucking depressing because, basically, everybody loses. Either they’re cheating and so your marriage is ruined. Or they’re not, in which case you’ve wasted a tonne of money and destroyed the trust in your relationship. Mr. Fletcher had been cheating, but it had been tough to get evidence because his mistress was a ghost, so she hadn’t actually shown up on film, which meant we’d had to shell out for some good, old-fashioned spirit photography.

  Wrapping up the job left me officially between cases, and frankly, there wasn’t much chance of anything major coming up until after Christmas.

  Elise would probably want to use the time productively to get on top of the bookkeeping. I was looking forward to taking a break, spending some quality time with my vampire girlfriend, and heading back up north to visit the folks. I hadn’t seen much of Julian since I’d rescued her from the King of the Court of Love, because there’d been some major political fallout since I’d taken the Prince of Swords down a sewer, and he hadn’t come out again. The advantage of not seeing someone as much as you’d like is that when you do, the sex is fucking amazing. On the other hand, since Julian is the vampire prince of pleasure that kind of comes as standard. So you’re mostly left with the disadvantage, which is, well, that you don’t see them as much as you’d like.

  I’d known what I was getting into from pretty much the moment I walked into her office, and I’m well past my spend-every-moment-together-I-am-nothing-without-you phase, but I don’t like keeping to someone else’s schedule. Maybe I’m messed up, but missing her makes me feel needy, and that makes me feel annoyed, and that makes me drink too much, and that makes Elise sad, and that makes me feel guilty, and that makes me more annoyed.

  And then I see Julian and it’s all wonderful.

  I stared moodily out of the window and thought about going outside for a fag break. Since Elise started working for me, I’m legally obliged to provide a smoke-free environment so I don’t give her lung cancer, despite the fact that, as far as I know, she doesn’t have lungs.

  That was when Tash walked into my office.

  I’d pulled her at the Candy Bar about three months ago but entirely failed to follow through. She’d given me her number and I’d given her my card, but I’d never called her and I’d never expected to see her again. It was pretty obvious this wasn’t a social visit. She still had that quirky pixie look, but it was like someone had stolen all her magic dust.

  “Uh, hi,” she said. “I know this is weird, but I need your help.”

  Truth be told, it was a little bit awkward, but my social weirdness threshold has gone way up since my girlfriend tried to murder my ex-girlfriend because her ex-girlfriend tried to murder her.

  “Take a seat.” I waved across my desk. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Perhaps a cup of tea would be appropriate?” offered Elise.

  Tash huddled into a chair. “Yes, thank you.” She had surprisingly good manners for a girl who’d been up for shagging in the doorway of Pizza Express. Elise disappeared into our tiny kitchenette, and Tash seemed to relax a bit.

  I shunted my midmorning whiskey behind a stack of old case notes and tried to look professional. “What’s the problem?”

  “It’s Hugh.” The words came out in a rush. “My brother, Hugh, he’s disappeared. But he broke his leg. We called the police, and it’s been more than two days, and I’m worried. He isn’t answering his phone, and nobody’s seen him. There’s this leaflet, and it says ninety-nine percent of people come back within forty-eight hours, but it’s been forty-eight hours and he hasn’t come back. And I don’t know what to do.”

  I should probably have said something comforting but I couldn’t think of anything. “Who saw him last?”

  “I don’t know.” She picked up one of the Kane and Archer pens Elise had recently ordered for publicity which were now scattered all over the office. “Probably somebody at the hospital.”

  “Which one?”

  “The Whittington. He broke his leg changing a lightbulb. Because he was standing on a swivel chair because he’s an idiot.”

  “Any history of depression?”

  She shook her head.

  “Any personal problems?”

  “No, he was doing really well. He was doing this MA at Brunel, and he’d just got this major internship or something.”

  “If he was at Brunel,” I asked, “why did they take him to the Whittington?”

  “He did it at his girlfriend’s house in Highgate. He was only supposed to be in overnight but there were complications.”

  “And he had no enemies or anything like that?”

  “What? Hugh?”

  “You’d be surprised.” I shrugged. “I know he’s your brother, but it would be really helpful if you could find out if he g
ambled, drank, or took drugs or if he had any debts or dangerous friends.”

  She thought about it for a moment. “He played D&D.”

  Eve had tried to get me into that. I played a gnome paladin and got killed by a big cube of jelly when I was level 3. After that, I just hung out on the edges of the group and stole their pizza.

  At that moment, Elise came in with tea for Tash and a coffee for me. “Would you like me to take notes, Miss Kane?”

  “Any objections?”

  Tash shook her head.

  “Okay. Miss . . .” I suddenly remembered that Tash’s surname was not the Teetotal Lesbian.

  “Shawcross.”

  “Okay, Miss Shawcross is looking for her brother, Hugh, who disappeared from the Whittington Hospital in Highgate, between two and three days ago. He was being treated for a broken leg. The police are looking into it, but the family hasn’t heard anything yet. The police will probably see him as low risk given his age and circumstances. He was studying for his master’s at Brunel, and he’d recently started an internship. The accident happened at his girlfriend’s house, which is in Highgate. As far as Miss Shawcross knows, he had no enemies, no mental health issues, and no personal problems.”

  “Just the broken leg,” added Tash. “That’s weird isn’t it? Disappearing when you can’t walk?”

  That could have meant he’d been abducted, but the police take things like that very seriously. Since he was still floating around the MPB and hadn’t been kicked up to Serious Crimes, it meant it probably wasn’t a kidnapping. Or at least didn’t look like one to the police. So that left either the plot of an episode of Miss Marple, in which a man with a broken leg discharged himself from hospital for no clear reason, or there was something supernatural going on. Right now, the supernatural explanation looked more likely. But, then again, when all you’ve got is an enchanted hammer, every problem starts to look like a possessed nail.

  “It’s a little unusual,” I said, impressed with my own tact. “I’ll need his contact information, current address, a photograph, as recent as you can get, digital is fine. I’ll also need details of the internship, his friends, and the name and address of his girlfriend.”