Alpha's Fate: A BBW Wolf-Shifter Paranormal Mystery & Romance (Arcane Affairs Agency)

by Nora Ash

  “No, never,” I said. “There’s no reason what so ever for him to flip out like that.”

  But there was a reason. I hadn’t wanted to so much as entertain it when Jackson brought it up earlier, but now? Was there any logical explanation to how completely Don had switched personality, other than perhaps Jackson had been right all along? Was he the demon who’d killed Molly?

  But if that was the case, why had he suddenly decided to show me his true nature? Or had it not been a choice at all, just pure reaction to being denied what he wanted?

  Another shudder went through me at the thought of what would have happened then, if he was truly a demon. I’d seen my parents get sucked dry of their magic by a demon. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

  “I’m sure he’s going to be back to normal tomorrow, “ Jade said, obviously in an attempt to soothe me. “And look at the bright side—at least if he ever gets the idea to ask you out again, you’ll have plenty of ammo to turn him down so hard his head’ll spin.”

  I managed a weak smile at my employee. “I suppose that’s true. Thanks again, Jade. You really saved the day there.”

  We stayed in in Steve’s Bar & Grill for another hour while Jade did her best to distract me from my disastrous date by talking about the bakery and some of our more eccentric clients. It worked somewhat, and when she offered to walk me home “just to make sure,” I took her up on the offer gratefully.

  We hadn’t spent a lot of time together socially since she started working for me, and I felt quite guilty about not having made more of an effort as we strolled down the lamp-lit Main Street and onto the darker road where both my shop and apartment were located. I’d made a point of not getting too close with anyone after I arrived at Thompson’s Mill, the trauma of losing my family still cutting too deep to really open myself up to friendship. The knowledge that what I’d left behind might one day find me again did not make it easy to put down roots.

  After my bad night, having someone to talk to about it—even if I couldn’t share my demonic suspicious—was such an honest relief. And judging by Jade’s eagerness as she chattered on about cakes and Sheriff Don in equal measure, she could use a friend, too.

  Despite the night’s events, I found myself quietly hopeful that once this demon was gone, maybe I could finally have a normal life. Perhaps even with friends like Jade.

  My cautiously optimistic mood lasted until, right in front of the entrance to my apartment, Jade stopped with a small gasp, gripping my arm tight.

  I looked up, my heart already racing in my throat as I half-expected Don to be standing there. But what I found was much, much worse.

  Written in smeared, dark red across the biggest of my shop windows were the words: I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

  8

  POPPY

  “I-is that blood?”

  Jade’s hoarse voice cut through the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I took a step closer to the window and carefully touched the smear. My fingertips came back red, a metallic and unmistakable scent clinging to them.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it’s blood.”

  “Ohmigod!” Jade squeaked behind me. “Ohmigod, Poppy! Who would—” Her voice cut off and I heard her audibly gulp. “Do you… you don’t think it was… the sheriff?”

  I bit my bottom lip as I stared at the bloody script. I know who you are. Who other than the demon would do something like this? And why now—why not sooner? Right after my disaster of a date—right after Don’s display of aggression.

  Was Jackson right? I felt faint at the mounting suspicion that I’d just spent the evening with the demon who’d killed Molly Perkins.

  “Grab a bucket of water from the kitchen,” I said, my voice low but surprisingly calm. “I’ll get some cloths.”

  The brunette obeyed without hesitation, unlocking the door to my café and slipping inside. As much as I wanted to freak out, now wasn’t the time. I had to get rid of the incriminating words before anyone spotted them and started asking questions. More specifically, before Jackson started asking questions.

  I know who you are.

  There was no longer any question about the origin of this demon. After five long years, it had found me. Or perhaps it had found me two years ago and had just waited. I shuddered as I picked up a few cloths and walked back outside to start cleaning the smeared windows.

  I had to take care of this without involving the shifter, or I was done for.

  At least now I had a suspect.

  “I’m really thankful for all your help,” I said as I began wiping at the bloody “I,” glancing toward my employee, who was rubbing at the “e” at the other end of the window. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d come home to this alone.”

  “It’s no problem,” she said, giving me a smile despite bloody water dripping down her wrist. “You’re the closest thing I have to a friend in town.”

  I felt a stab of guilt, knowing I’d deliberately tried to avoid forming a friendship with her—or anyone else, for that matter. But they all had their families and friends in town. Jade and I… we were alone. But it was nice, having someone to help you when shit hit the fan.

  I bit my lip and made a decision. After how she’d stepped in tonight, if Don was truly the demon, she was likely already on his bad side, anyway. Spending more time with me wouldn’t put her in any more danger. “Do you… want to come up after we’re done? For some hot chocolate or something to calm down on. It’s been a weird night.”

  The way her face lit up, I felt extra guilty for not having asked her sooner. “Sure, I would love to.”

  We continued washing down the window in silence, taking turns to empty the bucket and refilling it with clean water as we scrubbed at the bloody display.

  I was almost about to draw a sigh of relief that no one would see the vandalism and start asking question when determined footsteps crossing the street behind us made my heart stop for a split second. I whipped around, clutching at the cloth, half-expecting to come face to face with Don… but the man stopping in front of me wasn’t the sheriff.

  “What’s this?” Jackson’s frown fell when his eyes widened, flashing from the cloth in my hand down my arm and over my chest, nostrils flaring. “Are you hurt?”

  I gasped when he moved in close, grabbing my chin and turning my head from side to side, his free hand sliding over my chest and arms in a nearly clinical fashion. Looking for lacerations.

  “No, I’m fine. It’s—it’s from the windows.” I stepped away from his hands, confused at the caring behind his touches. “What are you doing here?”

  Jackson didn’t answer, his hands dropping to his sides as he took in the remaining smears across the glass panel. Thankfully, the words were no longer visible. His eyes narrowed again. “We need to talk in private.” It was the first time he’d acknowledged Jade’s presence.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but something in the look he shot me made me clamp my lips shut and head for the bakery door, offering Jade an apologetic look.

  Inside, after he’d closed the door tight behind us, he grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around to look at him. “Why the fuck was there blood all over your window? What’s going on?”

  “Demon,” I said, forcing myself to look him straight in the eyes. “It must have… discovered I’m a witch.”

  His dark eyebrows locked in a frown, and I was sure he would question me further, but instead he exhaled in a soft sigh. “Makes sense. I went to Molly Perkins’ house to look for clues. She was a witch too, it would seem. I find it puzzling that two witches lived in the same town, yet never socialized. And that you didn’t find it fit to let me know the murder victim was a paranormal.”

  “I didn’t know,” I bit back. “It’s not like we wear badges.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “She must have known you were a witch, though, since she frequented your shop. You’re not hiding your window charms. Any inkling why she didn’t reveal herself to you?”

  I shrugged. “Some o
f us prefer to be solitary. And why didn’t you know? Wasn’t she on the register?”

  That obnoxious eyebrow raised up higher. “If she was, I would have known. As I’m sure you’re aware, not every paranormal is willing to register with the Agency.”

  I felt my cheeks flush at his unspoken accusation. “Don’t give me that look—I’m on there, and so is every one of my ancestors six generations back.”

  “Pedigree witch, huh?” he said. “And if I call in your name, Miss Rose, what will I find in the register?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t snooped yet, seeing as you keep thinking I’m somehow involved with Molly’s murder,” I snapped, belatedly realizing I’d just told him to look into my past. I wasn’t entirely certain what was registered in their database of paranormal beings.

  His soft lips quirked, but a smile never appeared on his angular features. “Haven’t gotten around to it yet, cupcake. But for the moment, let’s assume the unregistered witch summoned a demon who turned on her. It’s the likely scenario. And now it’s found another victim. You. You should have called me the second you saw something unusual—not fucking cleaned up the evidence.”

  I felt my cheeks heating at the way he kept staring at me, an intensity I didn’t understand in his hazel eyes. Up until now, he’d treated me as a suspect in his murder case at worst, and an irritating necessity to solving it at best. And now this? Whatever this was. “I… don’t have your phone number.”

  Jackson swore underneath his breath and pulled out his phone from his back pocket. “Give me yours.”

  I frowned. “Is this really necessary? I—”

  “You’re wiping fucking blood off your windows. You’ve got a demon on your tail, doll. What are you gonna do if it corners you? Call the fucking sheriff?” he interrupted me with an irritated scowl. “I’m not asking so I can send you fucking dick pics. If you’re on his shit list, you’ve officially become my job.”

  “Oh.” I felt a bit stupid as I muttered off my digits for him. His thumbs moved easily over the display for a few moments before he stuffed the phone back down his pocket.

  “So, ready to tell me what’s going on?” he said, his tone a smidgen softer.

  “Uh…” I stared at him. “W-what do you mean?”

  “I mean that I find you and some human girl desperately cleaning off evidence of our demon. Pretty sure you’re smart enough to know I’d want to take a look at that. You’ve got six generations of registered pedigree, yet you’re hiding out in Podunk, Iowa on your own. And when I told you about Molly’s murder being a demon attack, you looked about ready to piss yourself and immediately ran to the sheriff’s office—I presume to see for yourself. You reek of trouble, girl. As I said, it’s my job to keep you safe now, and to do that, I need you to start talking.”

  His eyes burned into mine, and as I stared up into them, there was more than a small part of me that longed to just spill everything. I’d been alone with my fear and sorrow for so long, and he… he was big and strong, the coils of muscle in his body visible even through his clothing and the power of his Animal vibrating against my senses as he stared me down. Even if he hadn’t been a trained Agent, he would have radiated strength and capability with every fiber of his being. Something embarrassingly primal at my core wanted nothing more than to clutch at his offered protection with both hands.

  But I knew better than to trust a shifter agent.

  “Thank you for your concern, agent, but I don’t need a shifter to protect me.” I straightened my spine and did my best to look confident. “I’ve got wards in my apartment—it won’t be able to get in.” Not unless invited, and I sure as heck wasn’t about to invite the sheriff in after our disastrous date.

  I began moving toward the door. “Why don’t we meet tomorrow, once you’ve hopefully found out who it is and I’ve come up with a way to use the powder I made?” But I already knew how I’d use it, and on whom. And hopefully, once I’d done so, there would be no more reason for Agent Jackson to dig around in my past.

  Jackson looked less than thrilled about being shooed, but he followed me out of the shop, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans with his handsome face drawn into a frown.

  “If you see anything—get in touch,” he said, giving me a meaningful look once we were back out on the pavement again. “Don’t be stupid.”

  I nodded, because the set of his jaw told me he wasn’t going anywhere before I’d made at least that small concession.

  Jackson grunted, his eyes sweeping over the window again. Ignoring Jade’s staring, he pulled a finger through a remaining streak of blood and held it up as if inspecting it before he turned around and disappeared down the street from where he’d come. Still, though, a tickle in my subconscious made me think that perhaps walking away had been for Jade’s benefit. I felt his presence remain in the shadows. Watching over us.

  “Why…?” Jade looked at me, mouth slightly agape. “I thought you said he was just someone passing through? Why is he telling you to get in touch?”

  I sighed and turned my focus back to the window to avoid the measure of accusation. “He’s… my cousin. I didn’t think he’d stay around—we’re not close, and… yeah. I’m sorry I lied about it.”

  “Family issues?” she guessed, her tone light. “I know how that goes.”

  I bet she did, the way she’d showed up in town with nothing but her car and a suitcase. I gave her a small smile, thankful that she didn’t press the issue even as I felt guilty for lying to her again.

  We finished cleaning the window and finally went inside. The feeling of Jackson’s presence eased once I’d locked the door behind us, and I frowned as I led the way upstairs to my apartment. I couldn’t recall the last time someone had looked after me, waited for me to get home safe and sound… No, I could. It was when my parents were still alive. My father always sat up, waiting for me when I came home late. He’d always pass it off as just being caught up in a good book or a new spell, but I knew better. He’d waited for me to be home and safe. Just like Jackson.

  I shook my head at my errant thoughts. There was no comparison between my loving father and the gruff shifter. Jackson was just doing his job. He’d said so himself.

  “I’ve never been up here before,” Jade remarked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I smiled at her as I unlocked and opened the door. “Yeah, I never really have company. Come on in.”

  She slinked in, eyes darting around my hallway before she stepped through to my living room. “It’s so cozy. I love your decor.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hanging my coat up and dropping my purse on the small table next to the door. “Make yourself at home—I’ll put the hot chocolate on.”

  Jade obeyed, making noises about finding a comedy show to “calm us down,” and I disappeared into the kitchen.

  I quickly broke some dark chocolate up into a metal bowl, poured milk over it, and drizzled a dash of vanilla essence in before I set it to slowly heat over a pot of hot water. And then I pulled out ingredients to bake blueberry muffins with just a bit of Demon-be-Gone and every last ounce of vengeance I could summon.

  I might have been a bad witch, but I knew my strengths—and they were in baking. Sure, my parents had always sighed a little whenever I’d bunked off more serious magic practice to whip up a batch of feel-good brownies, but it was the only times my magic had ever remotely worked as intended. And this time, I didn’t have room for error. I needed the sheriff dealt with before he either managed to off me, or Jackson figured out he was the demon.

  Once the muffins were in the oven, I poured two mugs of chocolate, sprinkled marshmallows on top, and carried them into the living room where Jade was lounging on the sofa, watching TV. She looked up with a smile when she heard me coming.

  “Do I smell cake?”

  “Muffins,” I said, handing her her mug. “I, ah, de-stress bake.”

  “Yum.” She smiled, taking a sip from her mug. “I should have befriended you sooner.”<
br />
  I masked a cringe at the thought of poor, innocent Jade taking a bite out of a muffin filled with powerful Agency magic and hatred. I wouldn’t know until I pulled them out of the oven, but from the leftover arcane energy humming in my fingertips, I had an inkling that this time, my magic had worked. “Er, it’s for the sheriff.”

  Her eyes bulged. “The… the sheriff? The guy who was threatening to drag you out the restaurant and do God knows what to you? And you’re baking for him?”

  I flushed. “It’s not like that. It’s… he’s the sheriff. I don’t want to be on his bad side.”

  “I suppose that’s smart enough,” she said, looking slightly doubtful. “But at least tell me you spat in the mixture.”

  I grinned, feeling just a smidgen like a true dark witch. It was my first curse, after all. “Oh, I most certainly did.”

  We sat in companionable silence, watching the TV show Jade had picked and drinking our hot chocolate, until my phone beeped at me that the muffins were done.

  When I pulled them out of the oven, I knew they were perfect. They glistened seductively, and I could feel the touch of my magic in the steam rising off them as I plopped them into paper cups and set them on the counter to cool. My first successful spellwork, and it was a curse. Perhaps I’d been a better witch if I studied the dark arts from the get-go.

  “Ooh, they look yummy!” Jade had followed me into the kitchen and was admiring my baking. You’d think she saw enough of it in the bakery, but apparently not. “Want me to run one by his office in the morning? I walk by there, anyway.”

  I hesitated. On one hand, I really didn’t want to see the sheriff again—as much of a brave face as I’d put on for Jackson, the thought of facing off against a demon wasn’t at the top of my wish list. But on the other, Jade had stepped in last night, and who knew if he’d be carrying a grudge toward her, as well?

  “I think it’s best if I do it myself—don’t want him taking out his bad mood on you too.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, smiling wider than was strictly necessary at the prospect of doing a muffin run to an abusive drunk with a loaded weapon in his belt. Quicker than I could react, she’d snatched up one muffin and held it up next to her. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. Besides, it was you he looked like he wanted to hurt, not me. I’ll get it to him first thing in the morning and tell him you’re sorry for how the date ended and that you hope there are no hard feelings. Sound good?”