Shadow Hunted: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Shadows of Salem Book 3)

by Jasmine Walt

  You’ll be fine, I told myself as I headed downstairs to meet Maddock. My bodyguard was already waiting in the hall, and he escorted me through the club, making sure to keep to the hall and away from the various lounges where fae and supernaturals were still hanging out. The place wasn’t packed like it was in the evenings, but it was still up and running—ENVY did a brisk business around the clock, and it never closed.

  Maddock was already waiting by the entrance, looking handsome as ever in one of his dark suits. This one was chocolate brown with lighter pinstripes, an off-white shirt, and a dark gold tie. It made him seem a bit warmer and more approachable than his usual stark black-and-white attire.

  “Good morning,” he said in a low voice. His eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took me in, and my stomach flip-flopped despite my nerves. Or was it because of my nerves? I was so wound up I couldn’t quite tell. “Did ye sleep well?”

  “As well as I could manage,” I said. Which was about two hours of sleep, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Maddock’s eyes narrowed, as if he could see right through the concealer that hid the shadows beneath my eyes, and the light dusting of blush that put false color into my cheeks.

  “We’ll pick up some coffee on the way,” he said.

  “That would be good.” I just hoped I didn’t spill it all over my white suit.

  Twenty minutes later, we walked into the courthouse on Federal Street—a small, two-story grey building with Grecian-style columns and a portico. Jesse was waiting outside, armed with coffee and his briefcase, and he greeted us warmly, taking some of the tension from my shoulders. He seemed relaxed, which I took as a good sign.

  “Great outfit choices,” he said quietly as we walked inside. “You look calm and confident. Keep that up, and let me do most of the talking. You’re going to be just fine.”

  We walked into the courtroom, and my stomach immediately seized up at the sight of the packed gallery. What were all these people doing here? Baxter had claimed a seat at the front of the right aisle, and the chief of police was sitting next to him. There were other officers there, too, but most of these people were civilians. The chief’s face was an emotionless mask as everyone turned to watch us enter, but Baxter’s eyes burned with hatred as he watched Maddock and Jesse steer me to the other side.

  Thankfully, enemies weren’t the only people waiting for me. Oscar was there, and to my great surprise, so was Shelley.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed as quietly as I could, wrapping her in a hug. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  She shook her head. “Are you kidding? Everybody in town knows about this hearing. That’s why you’ve got so many gawkers here today,” she said, nodding to the room behind me. “This is the most exciting thing to happen around here in the last decade, at least. I tried calling you a couple times, but your number wasn’t working. I figured my best chance of making sure you were okay was to come here. Besides, I wanted to offer my support.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that,” I said. “But you don’t have to stay. I’m sure you’re missing work.”

  Shelley raised her chin. “I am, but I’ve already put in the time off, so there’s no way I’m walking out of here now. You saved my son’s life, Detective Chandler. The least I can do is be here for you. I know you didn’t kill Captain Randall,” she said, her eyes burning fiercely. “You’re not that kind of person.”

  “Thanks.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat, then turned to Oscar.

  “You eat anything, kid?” Oscar whispered as I hugged him.

  I shook my head. “Just the coffee. Don’t think I can stomach anything else.”

  He nodded. “Well, we’re gonna go out and get a huge lunch to celebrate after this,” he said. “You’re walking out of here a free woman today, Brooke. I can feel it.”

  The click-clack of heels against the wooden floors caught my attention, and I turned to see Thelia entering the room. She looked sharp in a black pantsuit, her golden hair pulled high into a bun, and she winked at me as she caught my stare. My stomach turned to lead as I watched her sit next to the prosecutor and share a grim smile with Baxter.

  I wished I shared Oscar’s confidence, because right now, all I could think was that I was totally screwed.

  “We should go and take our seats,” Jesse murmured, and I nodded. I glanced back one last time at my friends, and Maddock’s encouraging nod gave me the strength to move forward. It took forte to hold my head high and follow my lawyer up to the defense’s bench, but I managed to do it. I wasn’t going to crane my neck and stare back at the audience, to wonder who was judging me, who was cheering for me, and who was simply here for the popcorn drama.

  This wasn’t about me. It was about them. And I was here to win.

  The judge finally came in, and the sheriff called for the courtroom to rise. Judge Honoree Harrison, I thought, watching as she took her seat and opened the case files. A woman with a reputation for being very thorough and detail orientated. I had no idea if that was going to prove a good or bad thing for my case, but I did know from reading up on her that she was very fair, and that she took extenuating circumstances into consideration.

  Not that it would help with my particular situation. But it was nice to know she was one of the good ones.

  “All right,” she finally said, pinning me with a flat stare from behind her glasses. “Miss Chandler, I’m going to read off the list of charges, and you’re going to respond with a plea of guilty or not guilty. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said. I’d witnessed this a thousand times, so I knew the drill. Bracing myself, I listened as the judge listed off each charge from a thankfully short list, and I responded to each one individually. I could practically feel Baxter’s glare boring holes in the back of my head with each ‘not guilty’ I spoke, but I refused to let him affect me. I wasn’t going down for Randall’s murder. The bastard wasn’t dead.

  Once the charges were read, the next thirty minutes were spent in a long, mind-numbing battle between the prosecution and my defense attorney. The prosecution laid out the evidence they’d submitted—the missal, the rosary, and the two witnesses’ testimonies. My lawyer argued heavily against the validity of the missal as evidence, claiming it could have easily been planted in my house in order to throw suspicion on me. The evidence was circumstantial at best, he insisted.

  “I’d like to hear Miss Thelia Sorensen’s testimony,” the judge said, surprising us all. The prosecution usually didn’t have their witnesses come to the stand during a prelim—they didn’t like to show all their cards in case we did end up going to trial. “Miss Sorensen, please take the stand.”

  The prosecution looked slightly uncomfortable with this turn of events, but that seemed to fade quickly as Thelia took her seat—she was poised and calm, which probably boosted the prosecution’s confidence. The sheriff had her place her right hand on her heart and swear her oath to tell the truth, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. That courtroom oath meant absolutely nothing to her—she was going to lie her ass off, then look me in the eye and smile about it later.

  “Miss Sorensen,” Jesse said, taking the floor so he could cross-examine the witness. “Please share your testimony with the courtroom.”

  “On October 12, 2016, I went to Detective Brooke Chandler’s apartment to see if she was home. The two of us had met at a party about a week ago, and we’d gone out on a girls’ night or two since, so I thought I would go by and see if she wanted to go out again.” She bit her lip here, hesitating. “I was just getting out of the elevator on her floor when I saw Captain Randall knocking on her door. He looked very angry, but also a little scared, so I hid myself behind the wall, waiting to see what would happen. I thought he’d come in person to pick her up and take her to a crime scene—I didn’t know he was her captain, and not her partner. But instead, she let him inside.” Thelia lowered her lashes. “I’m ashamed to admit I eavesdropped a little by pressing my ear a
gainst the door. They were arguing, and it sounded pretty serious, so I left. I figured Brooke wouldn’t be in the mood to hang out, and I didn’t want to invade her privacy further.”

  “Thank you.” Jesse paused for a moment. “Did you hear what their argument was about?”

  Thelia shook her head. “The walls are pretty thick in that apartment,” she said. “But there were raised voices, and Brooke sounded very angry. I even thought I heard something shatter, like a glass being thrown against the wall. And when I heard later that Captain Randall was dead…”

  The doors to the courtroom flew open at that moment, and Thelia gasped, the color draining from her face.

  “What’s all this about me being dead?” a very familiar voice demanded, and I twisted sharply in my seat to see Captain Randall striding down the aisle. He was in bad shape, but it was definitely him.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  The courtroom exploded into utter pandemonium, and I met Maddock’s gaze from across the room. His green eyes blazed with triumph, and there was a smug smile on his face that had me grinning. He’d known Captain Randall was coming here today. The sly bastard had arranged for him to show up, probably at the last moment to knock everybody’s socks off. Relief and gratitude coursed through me, and I was overcome with the urge to rush over there and kiss him.

  But we were in a courtroom. And the hearing wasn’t over yet.

  It took several minutes for the judge and the sheriff to restore order, but everyone eventually settled down again. “Captain Randall,” the judge said, looking composed once more. “I am very interested to know why you decided to show up here at the last minute. Where have you been this whole time?”

  “I was held captive in a basement for the last three months,” Captain Randall spat with barely restrained fury. It was damn good acting, I had to admit, though the fury was probably genuine. After all, he had been held captive—just not in a basement. “Thelia Sorensen has been running a drug ring out of Marblehead, and I was tracking her. She and her band of cronies drugged and kidnapped me.” He puffed out his chest a bit. “I just escaped this morning,” he added, glaring at Thelia. “As soon as news hit me that Detective Chandler was being tried for my murder, I knew immediately Thelia must have planted evidence in the detective’s home. I came as quickly as possible.”

  Thelia was gripping the edges of the stand, white-knuckled. “That’s crazy,” she sputtered. “I never kidnapped you, and I don’t have a drug ring. I’m a wiccan practitioner—everything we use is perfectly legal.”

  “Your Honor,” my lawyer interrupted. “I’d like to move for all charges to be dismissed, now that it has been proven beyond doubt that Miss Chandler did not, in fact, murder Captain Randall.” His gaze flicked to Thelia. “I also highly recommend that Miss Sorensen be detained until the matter of Captain Randall’s…kidnapping…can be further investigated. Not to mention, she very well may have lied under oath.”

  “Agreed.” The judge banged her gavel. “Miss Chandler, you are free go. Sheriff, please detain Miss Sorensen.”

  The courtroom erupted into cheers, and I jumped up and flung my arms around my lawyer.

  “Thank you so much,” I cried, tears stinging my eyes. The weight slid off my shoulders like an avalanche, leaving only relief and pure joy inside me. I wanted to sing, to jump, to throw a freaking dance party around the room. I was free!

  “You’re very welcome,” Jesse said, grinning at my enthusiasm. He led me off the floor, and I met Baxter’s gaze. He looked absolutely stunned, as did Detective Brasher sitting next to him, and the chief actually looked chagrined. But before I could say anything, I was engulfed in hugs from Oscar and Shelley.

  “You fucking did it,” Oscar crowed, swinging me around like I was a little girl again. He set me on my feet, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s go out and get you that big lunch, kid. You deserve it.”

  “We all do,” I said, meeting their eyes. My gaze landed on Maddock, and my grin softened a little. “Especially you,” I said. “I can’t believe you pulled that off without telling me anything.”

  Maddock slipped his arm around my waist. “Some surprises are worth waiting for,” he said as he led me out into the cold, but brilliant sunshine.

  I couldn’t agree more, I thought, lifting my face to the beautiful day. Yes, we still had some unfinished business, but that could wait. I’d just won my freedom back, and I was damn well going to celebrate.

  Chapter 29

  After the hearing, I spent the next two weeks getting my shit together. Oscar had transferred the trust fund over to me so I could access it whenever I needed, and I’d used a chunk of change to buy a gorgeous three-story townhouse near Boston harbor. The chief of Salem PD had issued me a formal apology, and had even extended the job offer she’d given me previously, but I’d politely refused. There was no way I could continue working there, especially since Captain Randall had been reinstated. He may have agreed not to go after me anymore, but there was no way I was going to let him be my boss.

  I’d also put in an official leave of absence with the Chicago PD. I wasn’t quite ready to give up the badge yet, or on the idea I might move back there, but I knew that for now, my place was here in Boston.

  “So, how did yer meeting with the coven go?” Maddock asked as we sat in my brand-new dining room, eating takeout from an expensive Italian restaurant I was pretty sure didn’t offer to-go food. “Did ye relinquish yer title as coven mistress?”

  “Umm.” I swallowed my bite of meatball. “No.”

  His eyebrows winged up. “What the bloody hell do ye mean?”

  “They wouldn’t let me.” I bit back a sigh at the thunderstruck look on his face. “I had all the coven members meet me at that steakhouse, just like I told you I would.” There was no way in hell I was hosting the meeting at Darcia’s house, even if the woman was dead, so I’d booked the private room in the back. “And told them the fae had gotten wind of our plans to use the channel and destroyed it before we could reopen it. As I expected, a lot of them were angry and disappointed, and some blamed me for it. I agreed that my decision to delay the ceremony was the reason they’d lost out on this opportunity, and since I fucked up, that I was resigning my position as coven mistress. They were all in agreement with that.”

  “Then why are ye still the mistress?” Maddock demanded.

  “Because of Thomas.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s that undercover warlock I told you about. He butted in and told everyone that I must remain coven mistress until someone successfully challenges me. That it was the law. Since nobody in their right mind is going to do that after they saw what I did to Darcia, that means they’re stuck with me as coven mistress.”

  “That crafty bastard,” Maddock muttered, staring out the window and into my side yard.

  My side yard, I repeated to myself, feeling a bit giddy. I still hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea that I actually owned property.

  “What in the blazes does he have to gain by forcing ye to remain mistress?”

  “I asked him the same thing after the meeting was over,” I said, taking a sip from my glass of wine. I had no idea what brand it was, but it was damn good stuff. Only the best for Maddock Tremaine, I reflected with a small smile. “He said I was the only one he trusted to lead the coven right now because the government has a paranormal branch that has been keeping its eye on the witches, and the council has been forced to shut down quite a few covens for not toeing the line.” A small shudder went through me. “It’s called the Department of Paranormal Crimes, or the DPC, and I’ve never heard of it in my damn life. He said there is a very tenuous agreement because the witches have been cooperating with the paranormal branch on supernatural cases, but that if too many of the covens continue to act out, the government might just do a massive sweep and shut everyone down.”

  Maddock arched an eyebrow. “I have heard of the DPC, and that they have supernaturals on their roster, but I didn’t know they had any kind of agreement with the wi
tches,” he said. “I rather like the idea of someone else breathing down the neck of the covens, actually. Perhaps it is best that you are around to keep them in line in the meantime.”

  I huffed. “I’m not really leader material, Maddock. I don’t know the first thing to do with them.”

  I reached for my wine again, but Maddock took my hand. “Yer a born leader, Brooke,” he said, locking eyes with me. My stomach flip-flopped at the intensity of his gaze, and the warmth from his hand stole through me. “A princess, in fact, and one with an innate sense of justice and fairness. Much as I hate to admit it, Thomas was right to put you in charge. I cannae think of a better choice.”

  A blush heated my cheeks, and I stared at him, trying to think of what to say. It still caught me off-guard whenever Maddock gave me these warm compliments. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to it. And I was still determined we should try to be friends, even if his eyes and his touch did funny things to me.

  But then again, he’d done a lot to prove himself these past couple of weeks. Bringing Captain Randall back from the dead had been downright heroic. Maybe he did deserve a little something for that…

  A growl interrupted my thoughts, and I laughed as Darun appeared at my elbow, his yellow glare firmly fixed on Maddock. Releasing Maddock’s hand, I stroked the wolf’s thick brown fur.

  “It’s okay,” I teased. “My honor is still intact.”

  “For now,” Darun said, his voice a low growl. “His advances are growing bolder by the day, and are entirely inappropriate. He is a Seelie lord.”

  I bit back a sigh. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “Ye can tell yer guard dog to back off,” Maddock said irritably, holding Darun’s gaze. “I wasna going to throw you onto the table and ravish ye.” At least not in front of him, his eyes seemed to say as he met my gaze, and another wave of warmth swept through me. All sorts of wicked promises danced in those eyes. “That would be a waste of good pasta.”