To Kill the Dead (Hollowcliff Detectives Book 3)

by C. S. Wilde

  The dead man uttered a shattered roar that echoed throughout the warehouse as he rushed toward her, his voice something out of a horror story. Like his soul was leaking through his mouth.

  Once again, he lunged at her, but Mera swiveled on her feet and dodged him. The dead man’s boots dragged on the ground as he landed. Making a quick turn, he boosted toward her again, this time zig-zagging his way.

  The asshole, or his necromancer, was smart, but Mera knew what to do.

  With her magic, she called forward a string of river water from outside, slowing down its particles until it morphed into ice. The spear shot towards the warehouse as the dead man ran at her.

  The moment he jumped, his rotting fingers inches from Mera, the spear broke through the window. It impaled him from the left side of his neck down to his right thigh, before piercing through the floor.

  He thrashed and howled, clawing at her, but he couldn’t break free. Black, gooey blood ran down the ice, yet he didn’t seem to be in any pain.

  Mera waited until he calmed. Until he realized there was no way out for him.

  “Master made me do it,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

  It was plausible. A necromancer’s will always trumped that of the undead, yet Mera didn’t quite believe him.

  “Did he also force you to bite off a woman’s face?”

  He froze.

  Yeah, that had been all him.

  “Tell me where I can find the necromancer who raised you.”

  “I can’t.” A certain peace suddenly came over him. “We know about your little secret, by the way.” He glanced down at the ice spear running through his body.

  We?

  Poseidon in the trenches! The witch or warlock on the other side could see what the dead man saw. They knew Mera was a siren.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  How could she have been so careless?

  Waterbending had been the only way to catch the bastard, of that she was certain. It also meant that Mera would have to kill him at some point to keep her secret safe. It was either her life or his, but considering the man’s state—dead as fuck—the decision was kind of obvious.

  It still sucked, though.

  Swallowing dry, she lifted her gun and aimed at his head. A thorny sensation thrashed in her gut, because she was a hypocrite.

  Killing a creature who, like her, had an immediate kill order on their head felt wrong. If she didn’t do it, however, someone in the precinct would. Not to mention the undead could blab about her waterbending. So could the necromancer, now.

  Bad outcomes, no matter what.

  “Where’s your master?” she insisted, trying to hide the fear in her tone.

  “So you may end their life to keep your secret? Don’t worry, Detective. When the time comes, Master will find you. Until then, consider yourself safe. Well, safe-ish.” He chuckled, while sirens rang in the distance. Straining forward as much as he could, he faced her gun’s muzzle. “You should hurry. This doesn’t look good for you.”

  She hated doing what they wanted, hated playing their game—whatever it might be—but he had a point. The undead might not have rights, but that didn’t make what she had to do next any easier.

  Mera closed her eyes and fired, cringing at the fleshy sound of the bullet piercing through the culprit’s brain. When she opened her eyes, the dead man was staring down at her, the lime-green glow slowly fading from his irises.

  “Master will be seeing you again.”

  His corpse fell limp on the ice spear.

  The officers who arrived at the scene, Jack Robb plus a rookie Mera didn’t know, updated her and Bast on the girl whose face had been bitten—a Morgan Schmid, who had been directed to Clifftown Regional.

  Considering the hospital had the best doctors and healers in the county, she should be well enough for questioning within a few hours.

  “The undead’s name was Fred Johnson,” Jack informed them, his voice echoing through the warehouse.

  Jack was a fine officer. He had helped Mera and Julian in some of their past cases. “Cause of second death: bullet to the head,” he told his colleague in a lower tone, pointing to the body. “Wait. Was he impaled?”

  Mera’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “Maybe that’s how he originally died.”

  With one twist of her hand, the ice had melted away, rushing back to the river. The officers could never trace the wound back to her.

  Zero evidence left.

  “What a terrible way to go,” Jack muttered to himself. “I’ll let Captain Maurea know you’re on your way. Take your time, though.” Jack motioned to Bast, who stood beside her. “Detective Dhay looks like he might need some rest.”

  “Fae aren’t weak like humans,” Bast snapped, his pride getting the best of him, even if he was still incredibly pale.

  “Sorry for that, Jack. He gets cranky when he’s hungry.” Mera tapped Bast’s shoulder before nodding to the exit of the warehouse. “Come on, partner. Let me get you a coffee.”

  Rosie’s was Mera’s favorite coffee shop, located only four blocks away from the Scrap district. They had almost reached it when Bast tugged her hand gently, leading them into an alley next to the shop.

  Pressing her against the bricked wall, he played with a lock of her hair. “What a welcome we’ve had into your borough. I didn’t have time to tell you how beautiful you look today.”

  She gave him a sly grin. “Someone is feeling better. Also, this is the way I look every day.”

  “Exactly.”

  Oh, what this male did to her…

  Mera cleared her throat, staring at him from below her eyebrows. “Detective, this is highly inappropriate.”

  She knew that. He knew that.

  They both didn’t care.

  Leaning in, Bast kissed her, his soft lips brushing against hers. A moan escaped from her mouth into his, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she deepened their kiss.

  Mera’s need for him burned her from the inside out. Granted, she’d been in love with Julian for a long time, but she always had control when it came to him. With Bast, however, she edged closer to madness with each passing day.

  Her feelings for him terrified her. They lacked logic or common sense, consuming her like a wildfire.

  She was utterly helpless.

  Bast said they were connected by a golden string. That they were meant to be.

  In Clifftown, the concept of soulmates was considered absurd. In Atlantea, her people called it a “pairing.” Wolves, witches, and vamps called their better halves “mates,” and in Tir Na Nog, they simply called it “hart.”

  Heart.

  Before meeting Bast, Mera would have dismissed the idea as nonsense. She’d been raised in the human borough, after all. She didn’t believe in soulmates as much as she didn’t believe in Santa Claus, or the boogeyman.

  Now, she didn’t know what to think.

  Maybe their connection was real. Maybe Bast was her hart, as insane as it sounded. How else could she explain her lack of control when it came to her partner?

  They kissed until Mera’s mouth felt numb, and even then, she didn’t want to stop. A miracle, really, that all they’d done since Lunor Insul had been kissing. The more time they spent together, the more Mera felt herself approaching a cliff, so very close to losing her precious restraint.

  Soon, she would fall.

  Bast’s body pressed harder against hers, his arousal poking between her legs. Her doubts and fears vanished from her mind instantly, along with her common sense.

  “You evil faerie,” Mera grumbled between burning kisses that left her breathless, her most intimate part soaking wet. All she wanted was to take off her pants and give herself to him right there.

  ‘Hell yes!’ her siren cheered.

  No!

  Doing it in public was a crime. Not only that, but jeopardizing their working relationship was a terrible idea. They’d achieved so much as partners. Not to mention they still had to catch Poseid
on.

  Mera didn’t want to face him without Bast.

  Clutching what little self-control she had left, she broke free of his embrace. “Come on, partner. You need to eat something.”

  As soon as they entered the cafe, the smell of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee filled Mera’s nostrils.

  Hmm, bliss.

  She left Bast at a small table near the window before going to order—one double espresso for him, black as his soul, and one mocha cappuccino for her. Also, two roast-beef sandwiches for them. After all, Bast needed to regain his energy, and Mera was starving after throwing up her lunch.

  “I had never seen an undead before,” he stated quietly when she returned with their orders.

  “Me neither.” She pushed his sandwich forward before biting a chunk of her own. “Could be bad news, partner.”

  “Indeed.” Following her lead, he took a bite, then sipped his coffee. “This could delay our Poseidon investigation. Not that it’s been fruitful.”

  Since returning from Lunor Insul, they hadn’t found the time to dig into Poseidon, or the Crown of Land and Sea, which was annoying.

  Sometimes, Mera wondered if Ruth and Captain Asherath had drowned them in new cases on purpose, even if they had no clue about their secret investigation. Her mo… the Cap, could always sense when Mera was hiding something, so she needed to tread carefully.

  “Yeah. Things have been pretty busy,” she added mindlessly.

  Ruth had finally assigned them an easy case in Clifftown: a politician’s murder. In fact, it was so easy they had solved it on their way there. The wife had done it, but they could have dragged out the investigation and used the spare time to focus on Poseidon.

  With a necromancer on the loose, however, digging into the criminal who called himself a god would be impossible. As always, Ruth would give the precinct’s biggest case to the available detectives with the best solve rates—meaning Mera and Bast.

  Great...

  Finishing her sandwich, she stared out the large window and onto the street.

  Bast observed her as he sipped his double espresso. Only breadcrumbs remained on his plate. “Will you tell him?”

  “Tell who what?”

  “Julian. Tell him that we kissed, and…” He leaned forward, holding her gaze as a sinful grin spread on his lips. Raising his index and middle fingers together, he winked at her. “Tell him how I made you scream my name.”

  ‘Oh, those fingers,’ her siren cooed as memories of their time in Lunor Insul flashed in Mera’s mind.

  “Bast!” A deep blush rose to her cheeks. “What we do isn’t anyone’s business, especially not Jules’.”

  His amusement vanished as he leaned back in his chair. “I see.”

  ‘He’s getting the wrong idea! Do something!’ her siren urged.

  “Partner, it’s not that simple.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, sensing the onset of a headache. “Look, if we do this, and that’s a big if, we won’t be able to tell people.”

  “People in general, or Julian?”

  “People in general. Obviously.” She finished her coffee, then set it on the table. “He was my partner before you. He deserves some consideration, doesn’t he?”

  “No.”

  “Bast!”

  “Fine.” He studied her through narrowed eyes. “Did you ever do what we do with him?”

  “You mean solving cases? Of course.”

  “Mera…” His tone held a playful warning that sent butterflies to her belly.

  “Jealous, Detective Dhay?”

  Watching his espresso, he rolled his shoulders casually. “Your deflection skills are remarkable.”

  Not a yes or no. Interesting.

  “We never did what you and I do. Never even kissed. He never touched me the way you have. Happy?”

  He looked up, and a wolfish grin cut across his face. “Extremely. I can’t wait to continue what we started.” His low, sensual voice sent desire pooling between her thighs.

  A chill ran down her spine, fear mingling with anticipation, but she couldn’t hide her eager smile. “Pompous prick.”

  “I see it as a game.” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing her in the way of a tiger about to pounce. “Let’s see how long your self-control lasts, kitten.”

  Chapter 3

  The moment Mera stepped into the precinct with Bast, all her colleagues rushed closer, trapping them in a small crowd. They cheered Hollowcliff’s finest, and fired a thousand questions at once.

  “How does it feel to be a superstar?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t—”

  “What was the toughest case you had?”

  “Oh, it’s hard to pick—”

  “Is it true that night faeries can drink a human dry faster than a vamp?”

  At this, Bast laughed out loud and stared at Stacy with an evil grin in his face. “Yes.”

  The questioning went on for an eternity, but Mera patiently answered her colleagues.

  Bast observed them as if they were a bunch of rabid monkeys, but when they pulled him in to a conversation, he politely obliged. After a while, even Stacy stopped staring at him with suspicion and actually began… flirting?

  ‘Back off, bitch,’ Mera’s siren growled.

  Not long ago, her precinct had hated the fae, but ever since she and Bast took down the Summer Court, exposing the corruption scandal that ran rampant in Tir Na Nog, things had changed.

  The way they accepted her partner warmed her heart. He was one of them, and no longer the “enemy”.

  “Kid!” Old Bill broke through the crowd. His bushy gray mustache was so impeccably groomed, it curled at the edges.

  He might have been around Ruth’s age, but he was shaped like a massive bull, and still had the strength to match it. The man was practically a legend, giving a lot of the younger officers a run for their money.

  Once, Julian even asked what his secret was.

  “Vegetables and sex, boy,” Bill had replied without thinking twice.

  Now, the old man trapped Mera in a bear hug, lifting her off the floor. “Glad to have you back, kid!”

  Letting her go, he focused on Bast before shaking his hand with a vice-like grip. “Detective Dhay, what a pleasure! Your partner is one of the best officers in Clifftown. We all knew great things were in store for her, but becoming the savior of Tir Na Nog alongside her fae partner? That hit it out of the ballpark!”

  “I wouldn’t call us saviors,” he argued with fake modesty. “We were simply doing our jobs.”

  “Why not? It’s what you are.” Old Bill arched a bushy eyebrow at him, a silent message that said he wouldn’t argue about it. “I have so many stories about Mera. She showed great promise in the Academy, and it warms my heart to see her career take off. She was definitely a troublemaker, though!” A hearty laugh rolled in his bulky chest, the kind that usually followed a rush of happy memories.

  “Oh? Do tell,” Bast urged with a smile.

  The other officers gathered in closer for story time. Mera pursed her lips, knowing any protest she made would only fuel Old Bill’s fun.

  Before the old geezer could start, a loud clap came from the back, near the captain’s office.

  Once. Ruth only needed to do it once.

  “Back to work, people.”

  Saved by the bell.

  The crowd dissipated immediately, but the wink Bill sent Bast assured Mera he would tell him those stories later.

  Julian’s absence became evident as everyone returned to their desks. Maybe he didn’t want to see her. Maybe he was working a case.

  Hopefully, the latter.

  The captain leaned against the frame of the open door, her arms crossed. The little merling inside Mera wanted to run to her mothe… Ruth, and hug the woman who’d raised her. Sure, they always talked on the phone and had video conferences while she worked her cases, but this was the first time Mera had seen her in the flesh after returning from Lunor Insul.

  Mera wouldn’
t openly show her affection, though. In here she was an officer, not Ruth Maurea’s kid.

  Together, she and Bast strode to her and saluted, as any returning officer would. Ruth saluted them back, then nodded to her office.

  Everything looked exactly as Mera remembered. Ruth’s big, mahogany desk was set in the center, with two chairs facing it. Various bookshelves and filing cabinets occupied the wall behind her seat. A puffy leather couch sat beneath the glass window that faced the precinct, because Captains were supposed to keep an eye on their people, but Ruth didn’t give two shits about that. She trusted her officers, having trained most of them herself, so she always kept the blinds closed.

  As soon as the door shut behind her, Ruth wrapped Mera in a tight hug. “Glad to have you home, cookie.”

  With tears prickling her eyes, Mera hugged her back. In front of others, Ruth was the mighty Cap, but in private, she was the woman who’d raised her, who’d saved her life after Mera had killed her mother, Queen Ariella Wavestorm.

  Ruth wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection, but she didn’t seem to care that Bast was there. Neither did Mera.

  Her partner knew everything about her past. Where she’d come from, and what had happened back in Atlantea. He’d accepted Mera the way she was, and never asked to be reassigned. He didn’t put a bullet in her forehead either, though he legally could.

  Yes, Mera trusted Bast with her life, and apparently so did Ruth.

  Releasing her, the Cap went to the black leather seat behind her desk and sat down, while Bast and Mera settled in their chairs.

  “I heard about the undead,” she said. “Logically, it takes preference over the case I assigned to you.”

  “The wife did it,” Bast remarked nonchalantly from Mera’s side. “If you send officers to check the street cameras on the corner of the murder scene, you’ll find her in the recording between three and four a.m. It should match the victim’s time of death.”

  Ruth leaned back in her chair, forming a triangle with her hands. “Hollowcliff’s finest, indeed. I’m sorry to have to separate you for the undead case.”