A Little Wicked (The Bewitching Hour Book 4)

by Mallory Crowe

  “I think she’s freaked out,” he said.

  “I believe that. I mean the ghost or whatever attacked her sounds terrifying. Have you ever heard of anything like that?”

  “Yeah. In half the horror movies released in the past twenty years. Electronics flipping on and off? Objects moving around? Sounds like someone is trying to scare her.”

  “It sounds like they would’ve killed her if someone hadn’t heard the gunshots.”

  Dante shrugged. “That could be what they get off on. I don’t know. But if they want to get to Parker here, they’ll have to get through the two of us. Considering my bad mood right now, that’s not going to be easy.”

  Claire frowned. She hadn’t realized Dante was in a bad mood, but he almost always had a happy-go-lucky attitude. “What’s wrong?”

  He tilted his head and looked at her. “Not sure if you remember, but we were supposed to be having a date before we got put on babysitting duty.”

  Oh yeah… date.

  Dante must’ve sensed the sudden tension creep into her muscles and he let out a groan. “You’re still freaked out.”

  “I have good reason to be freaked out,” she reminded him. It wasn’t as if she were afraid of the perfectly normal concerns about birth control and STDs like a human in a new relationship. No, if she made a mistake while she was with Dante, she could kill him.

  “Come on.” He held out a hand to her.

  The worst part was that if he were peer pressuring her to have sex, she’d be totally on board. Her virginity was a label that she was more than willing to shake off. Really, she’d killed a man recently. Shouldn’t you have sex before you kill someone? Maybe she was never meant to be normal—human, witch, or otherwise.

  She met his hand and let him lead her to the bed.

  He settled back against the headboard as he turned on the television. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Comedy,” she said without hesitation. Something with no killing and no sex and no magic.

  She settled into his arms and let him hold her. This wasn’t bad. And this wasn’t what scared her. No matter how good the movie was, she could keep herself under control like this. It was when he touched her that things tended to get… iffy.

  And it was impossible to forget that Dante was there. Partly because Claire had been so careful lately to not touch anyone. Even though Sam, Dante, and even Claudia had been good about making sure no one else knew she was a soul sucker, she knew and didn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone.

  So when Dante touched her, it wasn’t just that he was utterly sexy and totally into her. It was the only contact she had, and that kind of thing could be addictive. She allowed herself to relax into him, leaning her head to the side until she settled into the crook of his shoulder. He couldn’t possibly be comfortable in this position, but she felt so warm and protected here that she didn’t say anything.

  The movie he put on was raunchy, and even though it had sex, it was hardly the tempting kind. She laughed a lot in the beginning, but soon enough drowsiness started to take over. Her eyes were drifting shut as she started to melt into Dante, appreciating the relaxation that she so desperately needed.

  Then Dante shook her shoulder. “Hey, hun. Movie’s over.”

  She blinked a few times. It felt as though no time had passed at all, but sure enough, the credits were rolling. She rubbed at her eyes as she sat up. “Wow. I don’t remember falling asleep.”

  He gave a little chuckle at that. “I don’t think that’s the kind of thing people normally remember,” he pointed out.

  She was still too drowsy to think of a witty retort, but then he reached for her and pushed a few lose strands of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I think you’re cute when you sleep.”

  She could feel the blush creep up her cheeks but tried to keep her cool. “You always think I’m cute.”

  “You got me there.” And when he leaned forward, she didn’t even think about stopping him. Maybe she was too tired. Maybe she was just using that as an excuse. She wanted to touch Dante. She wanted to kiss him, undress him, and know him in every way a woman was supposed to know a man.

  Even though Dante could be everything she thought a bad boy was, the kiss was soft and gentle and exploratory. It made her like him even more. She finally had the chance to run her fingers through his hair, and without moving from her mouth, he adjusted their position so he was crouched over her, with one hand on the back of her jean-clad thigh and the other bracing him on the bed.

  As soon as their positions shifted, the kiss took on a different feel. It wasn’t so sweet and innocent anymore but was deeper and more passionate. She soaked up the sensation of having a man on top of her, the first time this had happened in years. And she’d never been with a man like Dante.

  She cupped his face with her hands and pulled him in closer as she kissed him with everything in her. Her tongue tentatively brushed his and she lifted her hips.

  When she felt the barest evidence of his erection, she sucked in a breath at the unexpected sensation and cursed her own naiveté. She knew how sex worked. It was just so strange to feel that and know the erection was for her.

  She pulled back and opened her eyes to smile up at him coyly, but Dante’s dark-green eyes weren’t looking at her. These eyes were dark pools of black and seemed to stare into her very soul.

  Claire jumped back and slammed her hands into Jackson’s chest, but all of a sudden, he was back to Dante as he fell off the bed and onto the floor.

  “What the fuck?” He pushed himself up and looked at her.

  She stared at him in abject horror, waiting to see whether he was going to change back into Jackson or vice versa again. When it became apparent that Dante was actually Dante, she looked around the room. “Am I sleeping? Is this a dream?”

  Dante’s annoyance quickly changed to concern. “Hey, I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything. I thought—”

  “It’s not you,” she assured him, even though her eyes still bounced around. She wasn’t expecting Jackson to come bouncing out of the shadows at this point, but adrenaline was coursing through her and she was trying really hard to override the fight-or-flight response right now.

  Dante stayed standing, giving her some space. “What happened? Was it a ghost thing?”

  Ghost… was it possible? Was Jackson haunting her from the grave? She remembered what he’d said to her as she’d sucked the life out of him. He said he’d always be with her. And considering Angela had shot him, multiple times, it would make sense that he was going after her too. “I, um….” She really didn’t want to tell Dante what was happening but didn’t see a way around it. “I saw Jackson.”

  He blinked a few times, trying to digest it. “Like, in the room with us?”

  “Yes.” Kind of true. She didn’t want to tell Dante that she’d imagined herself kissing him. Twice in one day now. Besides, as long as she told Dante that she was seeing Jackson, that was the important part.

  It wasn’t as if she was imagining making out with Jackson for fun. Dante didn’t know about the time Jackson had kissed her, and he sure as hell didn’t know that for a moment she had been conflicted about which one of them to pursue a relationship with. But she had chosen Dante before she ever knew Jackson was evil. No reason to tell Dante anything that would make him feel worse. Not when he was the one she chose.

  Dante looked around the room cautiously. “What happened? Did he say something to you? Threaten you in any way? Do you think he was corporeal?”

  Her mouth fell open at the questions she had no answer to. “At this point, I’m not sure I didn’t imagine the whole thing. I saw him earlier today too, but that was a dr—nightmare and I figured it was brought on by stress. Now that Angela’s apartment is trying to kill her….”

  Dante nodded. “You’re right. Two times is too many.” He walked around the room, flipping on all the lights and looking around the room, but there was no sign of anything. Though if he knew what she rea
lly saw, he’d be looking in a mirror. Both times, Jackson had morphed out of Dante.

  “I think there’s only one person who can give us answers.” Claire wrapped her arms around her knees.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” Dante finally seemed to calm down and sat on the bed next to Claire.

  She shrugged. “I think if Claudia wanted me dead, I’d be dead a long time ago.”

  “Where were you?”

  Sam took a drink of her fruit smoothie she’d bought from the big chain coffee place and handed Claire the latte, complete with triple espresso. Judging from the circles under her friend’s eyes, she might even need another one. “I was at Derek’s,” she said honestly, even though she knew that wasn’t what Claire meant.

  “Where was Derek?”

  “Also at Derek’s,” said Sam, not bothering to hide the smart assery.

  Claire tilted her head and her eyes scanned Sam, and Sam had to fight the urge to nervously shift her weight. Finally Claire said, “Please tell me you and Derek weren’t having sex while his partner was recovering from a poltergeist murder attempt.”

  “You know,” Sam pointed a finger at Claire, “sometimes reaffirming you’re alive is a healthy, adult reaction to a life-or-death situation.”

  Claire raised a brow, but Sam wasn’t about to feel guilty for the sex. For one, it was way too good, and for second, Claire was better suited to protect Angela than anyone at this point. After having their asses thoroughly handed to them, Sam and Derek needed a chance to lick their wounds. And each other.

  At least that was what she was going to keep telling herself.

  “I know why I’m here.” Sam looked up at Claudia’s building. “Why are you here?”

  “I think Jackson is haunting me and he might be the one who tried to kill Angela last night.”

  Sam scoffed. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

  “Tell that to the bruises on Angela’s neck.”

  Touché. “There are a lot of magical explanations, but there are no such things as ghosts. Trust me.”

  Claire raised a brow. “You have looked into ghosts before?”

  “I tried to raise a ghost before. After my dad died, I would’ve given anything to get him back. Heather and I looked through every text we could find and tried to do séances or anything to connect to the dead. Nothing. And when we asked Claudia…. Let’s just say that didn’t go well.”

  “Okay….” said Claire carefully before she took a long drink of her coffee. “So there are no such things as ghosts. But I’m still seeing Jackson. And something did try to kill Angela last night, and that thing was impervious to bullets.”

  Sam stiffened, the sudden memory of seeing Derek shoot Abigail and seeing the bullet hole just disappear, for better or worse. Probably worse….

  “What?” asked Claire.

  “Nothing. It could just be a coincidence.”

  “You know what Derek thinks about coincidences.”

  “Yes. I also know that killing people is hard. And as badass as you want to be, you’re a pretty good person. You seeing Jackson might just be some form of guilt.”

  “I don’t feel guilty for killing him. He had it coming.”

  “I know that. And you know that. Maybe your subconscious is more conflicted? I’m just saying… Oscar’s razor. The most simple explanation is normally the right one.”

  Claire blinked in annoyance. “One, it’s Occam’s razor. Two, you’re a witch. Don’t give me the Occam’s razor bullshit. Occam’s razor needs to go in the trash from now on.”

  “Fine,” agreed Sam. “Let’s take it to Claudia then. She knows a hell of a lot more than I do.”

  Claire nodded in agreement and let Sam lead the way into the building and to the elevator. Sam had called her grandmother to let her know they were coming, so they were expected. But this time she wasn’t alone in her office. Bastian stood next to her desk.

  Sam was rather fond of the man, even if she knew next to nothing about him. Claudia had introduced him as one of her trusted sentries, but since then, Sam hadn’t met one person who had met Bastian before. Even Abigail, who knew pretty much everyone, didn’t know who Bastian was. On top of that, he’d recently outed himself as something other than a witch, and she hadn’t had time to ask him what the hell he was. It wasn’t human considering he was better at mind control than she was, but he was something. And he’d been able to fight off the darkness, a feat she couldn’t do without Claudia going full exorcist on her.

  Even though she knew so little about him, he’d saved her ass on more than one occasion, and he was on the increasingly short list of people she trusted. She knew that Claudia was his number-one priority, but he was open about it at least. Hell, at this point, she probably trusted Bastian more than Claudia.

  “Samantha.” Claudia nodded to Claire in greeting. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to tell you to stay away from your mother.”

  Claire stopped in surprise. “Abigail? What’s wrong with Abigail?”

  “Everything is wrong with her,” said Sam. “Too late, Grandma. I visited her last night. It was one hell of a party.”

  Claudia’s eyes widened and Bastian started to reach for a weapon, but Sam held up her hands in a nonthreatening way and took a step back. “Whoa, I’m me. I’m fine. I got away.”

  Bastian didn’t pull out his knife, but he still eyed her as if she were about to grow a second head. “How did you manage to get away?”

  “After Derek shot her in the head and that did nothing, he sprayed her with pepper spray. It didn’t faze her for long, but it was enough for us to get away.”

  Claudia tilted her head and for a second Sam thought she saw approval. “That was smart.”

  Sam tended to agree, but she was too confused by Claudia’s reaction. “Yeah, it makes total sense that she can survive lead through her brain, but the second her eyes get burned she acts like the Wicked Witch of the West in a downpour,” she said sarcastically.

  Claudia pursed her lips. “Never underestimate a good surprise, Samantha.”

  Sam wondered how much history went into that simple sentence. How much had Claudia seen in her long life? What secrets was she hiding right now that could help them get her mother back? But when Sam remembered how Claudia had dealt with Heather when there was the possibility of her allowing the darkness in, Sam had a sinking feeling she’d never see her mother again. The crushing realization had her reeling, but she made sure it didn’t show on her face. Even though Claudia was her grandmother, she couldn’t count on her for comfort or a shoulder to cry on. Sam looked at the ground and managed, “Claire wanted to ask you something.”

  Thankfully, everyone’s attention turned to Claire, and Sam could rub at her eyes and recover from her lapse.

  “Ummm,” said Claire awkwardly. She didn’t have the benefit of being related to Claudia, and she wasn’t as used to dealing with the intimidating woman. Sam managed to look up and give her a comforting smile, encouraging her to continue. “I’ve been seeing Jackson.”

  Claudia raised a brow and didn’t say anything.

  “The first time I saw him was when I was distracted at work. I don’t even know if I was sleeping, but the dream was so real. It was like he was actually there. And then when I was fully awake, I suddenly thought my boyfriend was Jackson, and I almost punched him in the face. Then Angela was attacked by something in her apartment. She never saw his face, but since her and Jackson don’t have the best history, it would make sense that he would want to strangle her with an extension cord. So I think Jackson is haunting me.”

  Claudia was silent for a moment as though contemplating what Claire had said. Then she confidently declared, “You’re wrong.”

  Claire blinked a few times. Even Sam was surprised by the utter shutdown, and Sam knew there was no such thing as ghosts.

  “I’m not imagining this,” insisted Claire.

  “Maybe not,” said Claudia. “But there’s no such thing as ghosts. What do you think wou
ld cause a soul to remain trapped in a non-corporeal form on this plane?”

  Claire frowned, obviously not expecting the question to be turned on her. “I don’t know. Unfinished business?”

  “Unfinished business, revenge, violent deaths…. What percentage of witches do you think die peaceful deaths?”

  Claire just nodded as the realization dawned on her.

  “If there were such things as ghosts,” continued Claudia, “the world would be overrun. If it were possible to bring the dead back easily, no witch would ever stay down for long. This is unfortunate, but it is logical. Death needs to remain final. Otherwise the consequences could be dire.”

  Sam decided to play devil’s advocate for a moment. “Do the normal rules of the game matter when dark magic is involved?”

  Claudia turned to Sam. “Of course there are rules. Just different rules. But I have a question for both of you. If something attacked this other detective, why isn’t she dead?”

  Sam was quiet because she knew Claudia wasn’t expecting an actual answer.

  “If some powerful witch ghost was after Detective Parker, why couldn’t they kill her?”

  “They were interrupted,” offered Sam.

  “It only takes a split second to kill, Samantha. The darkness knows this more than anyone. If Detective Parker really was attacked, they weren’t trying to kill her. They were trying to scare her. And that might be the most important thing to take away from this.”

  Derek set the foam cup down on Parker’s desk. “Here you go.”

  Parker smiled up at him and immediately took a few deep gulps of the coffee, not making any sign that it was too hot for her.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night?” He could only imagine that sleep wouldn’t come easy after she’d lived through the literal stuff of nightmares.

  She shrugged. “I must’ve dozed off at some point.”

  He knew exactly what she meant. The nights where on some level he knew he’d slept but it felt as though his body hadn’t gotten a wink of rest. He didn’t envy her. “Was Dante’s place okay? I know it’s a nice area, but I’ve never been there so I had to hope it isn’t a hoarder site or anything.”