Witches Can't Fly

by Nova Archer

  Trust him, Lyra.

  Eleanore’s voice echoed in her mind and Lyra shook it loose. I can’t. He has too many secrets.

  There was no response.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Someone’s been snooping around.” Theron paced his hotel suite as he listened to Henri, his aide, on his cell phone. Right after they left New Destiny, he got the call from his assistant. Sensing the importance of the call, he had asked Lyra to drop him off at his hotel. She had looked at him strangely but didn’t comment. He was thankful for that.

  “Caine Valorian more than likely talked to Inspector Bellmonte about my work with the police.”

  “It’s more than that, Theron. There have been calls to the museum curator about some of your collection pieces, and attempts have been made to collect information about your bank accounts.”

  LeNoir was a powerful family name, so it didn’t surprise him that inquiries were being made about him. But his bank accounts? That rang a little more unsettling than anything else.

  “What are you thinking, Henri?”

  “It smells like blackmail,” his young aide said.

  The thought had crossed Theron’s mind. There had been a blackmail attempt on him before years ago by a money-hungry young witch trying to monopolize on the LeNoir fame and Theron’s goodwill. It had been solved, thankfully, without any payment.

  “Would anyone there have any reason to do this?”

  “No,” Theron replied. “I don’t personally know anyone here. My father, on the other hand, is very well acquainted with some of the more influential citizens.”

  His thoughts strayed toward the very enchanting chanteuse Nadja Devanshi. It had been obvious that she knew Lucien personally, possibly even intimately. His father was known to have several mistresses, even when he was still married to Theron’s mother. Did she know something about his father that she could use against Theron? Maybe. The way she had looked at him had been unnerving—as if she could see the black marks on his soul.

  “I’ll phone Lucien in the morning,” Theron said, already dreading the call. He didn’t get along with his father. Once he had respected the man, but after certain events, Theron chose not to continue their relationship. He preferred to discuss family matters over the phone, instead of in person.

  The vampire frightened him.

  “I doubt he’ll shed any light on it, but if I tell him someone’s sniffing after the family money, it’ll prompt him to some kind of action.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on things here, sir. If I see anything else irregular I’ll call you right away.”

  “Thank you, Henri.”

  Theron flipped his phone closed and set it on the glass coffee table in the living room. Uncorking the bottle of wine he brought with him from France, he poured a glass and sat on the sofa. Fatigue was starting to worm its way in.

  He’d been on the go since touching down in Necropolis a day and a half ago. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the vivid dreams about Lyra began. She even plagued his waking thoughts. He couldn’t seem to exorcise her from his mind.

  He gulped down the wine, hoping it would dull his senses. Maybe then he would stop smelling her on his skin and clothes, hearing her voice in his head, and remembering how she’d looked at him after a few private words with the psychic.

  She had definitely regarded him differently after stepping through the beaded curtain. Warily. As if she’d been told he was keeping secrets from her.

  Cursing, he ran a hand through his hair. He was keeping secrets, but it was for her own good. She didn’t need to know about his past. It would only hurt her. And yes, ruin any chance of them getting together.

  He wanted her desperately. Even after she told him that she was a virgin, more so probably. To be her first would be an honor. To show her the beauty of her body, and open her to so many sensual delights—she’d go mad with desire. He couldn’t deny it. He wanted to make Lyra scream his name, to ache for him even after they had done the deed. He wanted her to remember him as being the beacon of passion during a dreadful time.

  For once he wanted to be associated with the light instead of the dark.

  After pouring another glass of wine, Theron flipped through the big book on the table to the last page he and Lyra had worked on. They were so close to figuring it out.

  This time something caught his eye. An innocuous symbol. It almost seemed hidden among the others. But something about it registered with him. It looked like an M with a loop after it. Very unassuming, but put into context it had meaning. Grave meaning.

  Hands shaking, he opened another file in his laptop. He had extensive symbol catalogues on his hard drive. This one held archaic symbols and text used in black magic. At one time, he was very familiar with them. He had utilized them extensively in spells and incantations until that night when everything went wrong.

  He scrolled down to the end of the alphabet and stared at the zodiac sign for the Virgo. A letter M with a loop behind it. He glanced back at the book. The symbols were too similar for the resemblance to be ignored.

  Why Virgo? What did that have to do with sacrifice?

  Rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers, Theron closed his eyes and tried to think, tried to reason through it. Then like a sledgehammer in his mind, the answer came to him. Dread surged through him at the thought. Most of the text had been written in an odd mixture of Latin and Aramaic. Virgo was the Latin word for “virgin”.

  Whoever was summoning demons needed a virgin for the final ceremony to be used as a Virgin Mary-type of vessel for the next evolution of evil. The porthole for something evil to come through.

  Lyra was to be that sacrifice; she was to give birth to a demon.

  Theron felt sick. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but to him it made sense. He had experience in the dark arts. Simple logical spells were twisted and molded to suit the dark practitioner’s purpose. At one time, he himself had harbored those immoral purposes. He had practiced with greed in his heart and soul.

  Grabbing his phone from the table, he flipped it open and prepared to dial Lyra’s number. But his finger froze on the keypad. A rush of selfish thoughts invaded his mind.

  He snapped the phone closed. Sighing, he leaned back against the sofa and shook his head. He couldn’t tell her. She would wonder how he figured it out.

  And what if he were wrong? He’d be showing his hand even before he knew the stakes. He couldn’t take the chance until he was one hundred percent certain. He didn’t want to risk losing Lyra before he’d even had a chance to really get to know her.

  Instead, he would stick close to her to make sure no harm came to her. If she was indeed the target, Theron would be there to catch the killer. He would do what it took to keep her safe. He would use whatever means at his disposal. Even if that meant risking his soul all over again.

  Lyra returned to the precinct alone. After a cryptic phone call, Theron had asked her to drop him off at his hotel. She was glad for the reprieve from him; she needed time to straighten out her feelings.

  As she marched toward the conference room reserved for the crime scene team, Eve snagged her in the hall. She could see the flush of excitement on the human’s face. Something must’ve happened.

  “Mahina brought in Kellen,” Eve said, as she pulled Lyra by the arm toward one of the interrogation rooms. “Caine’s questioning him now.”

  The whole team was assembled outside the viewing window watching as one of their own was interrogated. Lyra stood beside Eve and swallowed hard. She hated seeing Kellen in the room.

  Kellen was seated; leaning back, arms and legs crossed looking unaffected and bored. Caine sat on the edge of the table near Kellen, looking calm and reserved. But they all knew otherwise. The chief was likely seething inside, but he was a vampire and possessed an unnatural air of detachment in extreme circumstances. Most times, he seemed aloof and cold, but deep down the team knew he was one of the most compassionate people on earth.

&nb
sp; Lyra glanced at Eve who knew that fact more than any other person.

  “It’s killing him to have to do this,” she said, never taking her eyes of her husband.

  “I know,” Lyra responded, but this wasn’t the first time Caine and Kellen had it out. Not long ago, Kellen had been flippant about Eve’s kidnapping. Caine had nearly snapped his neck over it.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about, Chief? There’s a hockey game on. The Canucks are playing,” the group could hear Kellen say.

  “Where were you between ten this morning and two in the afternoon?”

  Kellen smirked. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Answer the question.”

  Kellen lifted his gaze to meet Caine’s. Lyra imagined that the temperature inside the room was either dropping or rising depending on whose power was more dominant at the moment. Caine was the stronger vampire, but Kellen had his ways. She’d once seen him crush the barrel of a handgun in one hand.

  “In my designated cage, running ballistics on the Jenson robbery.”

  “Was anyone with you?”

  “I was alone as usual. You know that’s how I work.”

  “Were you ever in the DNA lab between those times?”

  Shaking his head, Kellen leaned back in his chair, rubbing his fingers over his chin. “I can’t believe you’d think I had anything to do with blowing up the lab.”

  “Were you in the DNA lab between those times?” Caine asked, his jaw rigid as he bit out the words again.

  “Yes, I was talking to Gwen.”

  “At any time did Gwen leave you in there alone?”

  “No,” Kellen said equally as rigid. “You can ask Gwen.”

  “I would but she’s still unconscious.”

  Kellen exploded out of his chair and rushed to the window that the team was watching him through. Of course he knew they were there. It wouldn’t have surprised Lyra if he could actually see them as clear as water. “Screw this, man. I didn’t blow the lab up.”

  Caine stood, but didn’t move away from the table. “Why were you racing away from the parking lot minutes before the bomb went off?”

  Kellen swung around. “What?”

  “Lyra saw you racing out of the parking lot on your motorcycle minutes before she was nearly buried alive under tons of concrete.”

  Lyra backed away from the glass as the vampire turned and looked right at her. Her heart was hammering hard in her chest and she could hardly breathe.

  Lifting his hand, he finger-waved at her.

  Eve glanced at Lyra, a look of worry creasing her brow. “Can he see us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s just screwing around,” Jace said. “Trying to intimidate us.”

  Caine slammed his hand down on the metal table, bowing it in the middle. Everyone jumped, except Kellen.

  “Answer my damn question, Kellen. Someone could’ve been killed today. Gwen was seriously injured and we lost almost all our evidence in this case and several others. Why can’t you just be straight with me?”

  “Because you’re not being straight with me, Chief. This is about more than just me racing away from the scene of the crime.”

  “Okay.” Caine leaned on the table with his fist. “You’ve been seen at the club a lot lately. I also heard that you were friendly with Lori James, our latest murder victim.”

  Jace cursed. “Why didn’t Caine tell us any of this?”

  “Maybe he just found out himself,” Lyra answered. But she too didn’t like that the chief had kept that information to himself.

  Turning, Kellen returned to the chair and sat down, crossing his legs casually. The look he gave Caine was not casual at all.

  “Yes, I knew Lori. As did most of the clientele. She was a very friendly girl, if you know what I’m saying.”

  “You should’ve come to me right away with this Kellen.”

  “I know, but I’m not proud of my frequent visits to the club.” Kellen rubbed a hand over his head, and then sighed.

  “You’ve never been one to shy from the baser traits of vampirism. Why the change?”

  Kellen crossed his arms in defense and avoided Caine’s intense gaze.

  Caine slammed his hand again on the table. “Tell me what the hell is going on, Kellen.”

  Without looking up, Kellen sniffed, “It seems that I have S.C.”

  Lyra gasped and Jace swore. They both knew what that meant for Kellen. Now, his erratic behavior made more sense.

  “I’ve been trying to flush it out with extra blood, but so far it hasn’t worked.”

  “What’s S.C?” Eve asked.

  “Sangcerritus. It’s a rare blood disease vampires can contract. The literal translation is ‘crazy blood’. When it’s full blown it can drive the vampire mad.” Lyra felt guilty now for considering that Kellen could do such a heinous thing as blow up the lab. He was sick, not a traitor and conspirator.

  Sighing, his anger diffusing, Caine slid back onto the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew you’d have to put me on a leave of absence.” Kellen shook his head and let it fall back. “I love my job, Chief. I don’t have anything else.”

  “How long have you had symptoms?”

  “Six months at least. Maybe more. I was trying to hide it even from myself.” He sighed again. “I had just talked to my doctor on the phone before I wheeled out of the garage. I didn’t see Lyra. I was too messed up to see much of anything.”

  Caine nodded then stood. “I’m going to need you to give a statement to Mahina about knowing Lori James and your whereabouts during the explosion.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.”

  Caine started for the door.

  “Oh hey, this might interest you,” Kellen said as he sat up in the chair. “Guess who frequently fed on Lori’s blood?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Your favorite singer. What’s her name? Nadja something.”

  Lyra sucked in a breath when she heard that. The vampiress had told them she hadn’t known the victim. Somehow the admission didn’t surprise Lyra. The woman was involved in this. She was too arrogant in her vampirism not to be. She was one of those who considered herself better than all the races in the world.

  Hand on the knob, Caine turned back to Kellen. “For what its worth, Kellen, I’m sorry.”

  The vampire waved Caine’s condolences away with a brisk flick of his hand. “No worries, Chief. I’ll be out of your hair before I go completely insane. I see an extended vacation in my future.”

  Caine left Kellen in the room while the team reassembled in the nearby conference area. Everyone looked grim and unsettled.

  Lyra, Jace and Eve took seats at the table, while Caine stood at the head. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his face was paler than usual.

  “Looks like Kellen may have given us our first solid suspect in this case,” Caine said.

  “Nadja Devanshi,” Lyra said.

  Caine nodded. “I have a call into Mahina to bring her in.”

  “The baron isn’t going to like that,” Jace said.

  “No he’s not, but I don’t really care.” Caine slumped into the chair behind him. “I’m tired of chasing our tails on this case. We’ve lost too much and I’m not willing to lose anything more.”

  Before anyone could respond, Caine’s cellphone shrilled. He flipped it open. “Valorian.”

  Watching his face, Lyra knew in seconds that they’d run into another snag. Nothing had been easy on this case. Not with the first murders, not in San Antonio, and especially not now. It was all coming to a head. Lyra could feel it all the way down to her bones.

  He snapped the phone shut and sighed. Looking around the table he met everyone’s gaze then locked onto Lyra. Her heart lurched into her throat.

  “We have another DB.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lyra’s stomach lurched into her throat as Caine pulled onto the curb behind Mahina’s unmarked sedan in front of New
Destiny.

  While the others jumped out of the SUV, she stayed behind. She felt cold inside. Her limbs were freezing from the inside out and she couldn’t move from her seat. It was if she had rigor mortis.

  Caine opened her door. “Do you want to stay in the vehicle?”

  She shook her head, hating being coddled. She’d been doing this job long enough to see all manner of death and destruction. Another body, whoever it may be, was just another case. She had to remember that.

  Even if she did just see the victim only hours before.

  Taking in a deep breath, Lyra slid out of the vehicle, went around back and grabbed her kit. She followed Caine and Eve into the shop. The officer stationed at the doorway nodded to them as the passed.

  Inside, it looked the same as how she left it earlier. There didn’t seem to be anything broken. No blatant evidence that a fight took place. The only difference would be the smell that permeated the store, overcoming the patchouli.

  The scent of death.

  There was no other odor as pungent.

  “It’s a mess,” the police captain said, licking her lips. “I haven’t come across a scene like this in years.”

  “Who called it in?” Caine asked.

  “Anonymous tip.”

  “Hmm, I’m thinking not so anonymous,” Caine said as he peered through the hanging strings of beads. “Too convenient.”

  Mahina grunted in agreement as Caine swept the curtain aside and stepped into the back office. Eve followed him through, Lyra at the last, snapping on latex gloves.

  She tried to avert her eyes, forcing them to the floor to look for evidence, but no matter what she did, Lyra couldn’t help but stare at the witch sitting in the chair she’d been in only hours before. Lyra had to put a hand to her mouth to stop the gasp of revulsion.

  Black candles stuck out from where Claire’s eyes should have been. The wicks had been lit and still flickered with tiny flames. Blood and entrails pooled beneath the table and chair. The poor woman had been gutted.

  After the photos were taken, Caine and medical examiner sat the body up so he could take a body temperature reading to determine time of death.