by Jasmine Walt
Lily’s room is neat and clean like the rest of the house, with crystals and dreamcatchers decorating the window. I sift through her bookshelf, not finding anything of interest, and open her computer.
It’s password protected, of course. If her parents don’t know the password, I can get IT to get me in eventually. Biting my lip, I take another look around the room and do my best to guess the password. After enough failed attempts to get me locked out, I close the laptop and head downstairs.
A gray tabby cat meows at me from the foyer, hunched down and eyeing me suspiciously.
“Hey, kitty,” I say, and then notice the collar. Crouching down, I hold out my hand and pray this cat isn’t an asshole. Most are. Apprehensively, he comes over, and I snatch him up, narrowly avoiding a thrashing from his back claws.
“Shadow,” I read his name out loud, and then let him go. I open the computer again and type in shadow. It doesn’t work. I try a few variations, getting in with the password shadow123. Not the best, but also not the worst either. People use their pets’ names for passwords a lot. It’s a bit predictable, but that’s working out in my favor.
Letting out a breath of relief and feeling like I hit a small victory, I close the computer again and head out, making sure to lock the door behind me, and pocket the key I got from Lily’s parents. I go door to door next, asking the neighbors if they’d seen anything weird the night Lily got home from work.
No one had.
I head back to the station, and spend another hour looking through Lily’s social media accounts. She has a decent amount of people on her block list, and it seems her father was right about her not engaging in any sort of negativity.
There are several new messages from a guy named Roy Tenant. The last was sent two days before she was murdered, calling her an abomination and saying she would rot in hell for doing the devil’s work.
I print out the messages and pass on the link to his profile to our cyber unit to see if they can locate him so I can bring him in for questioning. It’s getting late, so I close the computer to bring it home with me so I can continue my search through the night. I’m making dinner tonight instead of buying takeout, and need to stop at the grocery store.
By the time I finally pull into the driveway, the sun is almost setting. I put my Charger in park and get out, going around to the passenger side to get out my grocery bags, purse, and everything I brought home from work. I’d rather kill my arms by carrying everything at once than make two trips.
The sun dips lower in the sky, and I can feel the guys start to awaken. I have to set one bag down on the porch to unlock the door. Gravel crunches behind me, and at first, I think it’s bits of stone falling from Thomas and Gilbert, who are frozen as statues right behind me.
Then I realize the crunching of gravel is coming from the driveway behind me. I whirl around and see a car headed right toward me.
7
“Motherfucker,” I grumble, recognizing the car and the people inside. They’re my neighbors, so to speak, and the teenage boy in the driver’s seat has given me grief in the past. I caught him and the girl sitting next to him creeping around the property looking for paranormal activity, specifically the lack of stone gargoyles attached to the house.
If they don’t leave in the next five minutes, they might be seeing more than they bargained for tonight.
Sighing, I set my parcels down and walk along the cobblestone path. Jared puts his car in park and gets out. Thankfully he’s not holding a camera this time.
“Can I help you?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest, anxiety forming. The sun is close to setting. I shift my eyes to the girl in the car. She hasn’t gotten out, but she’s not secretly filming either. Not as far as I can tell, at least.
“We have a Memorial Day party and my dad wanted to invite you.” He pulls a crinkled piece of paper from his back pocket and tries to smooth it out. He hands it to me, eyes going to Thomas and Gilbert, who are getting closer and closer to waking up. I can feel it.
“Thanks.” I take the paper, not even looking at it, and fold it in half. “I’ll try to make it.”
“If you don’t want to come, then don’t,” he scoffs. “Don’t act like you’re interested when we both know you’re not.”
This little asshole gets under my skin. He doesn’t know how good he has it. “You know nothing about me, and let me remind you, murderers don’t take holidays.”
His face pales a bit and he lowers his gaze to the ground. “Right.”
“I have work to do. Tell your dad I said thanks for the invite.”
He nods, looking back at the house again as he tries to think of a reason to stay. He’s an arrogant kid, but not the smartest. One look around this place tells you I’m in desperate need of yard work. An offer to help clean up this place would buy him time and an excuse to look around.
“The gargoyles look the same.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Okay?”
“You said you had them cleaned and restored. But they look the same.”
“That’s the point. To keep them in the same condition without wear and tear from the elements.” I have no idea if that’s even true, but I say it in a way that makes it sound believable. “Thanks again. I have work to do now.”
He nods, looking up at the house. Hasan can’t be seen from the front, but Jacques can. This kid needs to leave. I wave my hand at his car, eyeballing the girl, whose head is turned down to her cell phone.
Jared leaves, and I hold my breath and curl my fingers into my palms to keep flames from erupting from my hands. I’m not in danger, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared the guys would wake up when Jared and his girlfriend were here.
The guys are far from defenseless, but I honestly don’t know what they’d do if someone was around when they woke up. I wait until Jared’s car is out of sight before unlocking the door and going inside.
Setting my groceries on the counter, I preheat the oven and take Lily’s laptop, going out onto the porch just in time to see the stone on Thomas and Gilbert crumble and turn to dust, disappearing before it hits the earth.
They wake up slowly, stretching and brushing off gravel. Before they’re even on their feet, Jacques jumps down from the roof, flesh more gray than usual.
“Ace,” he breathes. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, why?”
Stone continues to crumble away from his skin. “I felt your fear.”
“Really?”
Thomas steps closer. “So you were afraid of something? Who do I get to kill?”
“No one.” I step back, looking up at the house, and wait for Hasan to join us. “The neighbors stopped by, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get them to leave before you woke up. If someone sees you…” I shake my head. “I don’t know what would happen.”
“You’re worried about us,” Gilbert says with a smile. “It’s nice.”
“It could be a total shit show if someone got you on video. I’m pretty sure it would be seen as a hoax and not taken seriously, but if it was…I don’t know.” I bite my lip and look down the driveway again. I could install a fence and a gate, keeping people from driving up to the house. But I don’t have the time or funds for that right now. “Do you have to go onto the roof?”
“Yes. It’s part of the curse,” Jacques says.
“Dammit. It’d be so much easier if you could hide out in the basement or something.”
“We weren’t always here.” Thomas looks at his spot on the porch. “Before you, Ace, the last place I remember being was…” He closes his eyes, thinking back. “…A church.”
Gilbert nods. “Yeah. I remember it now. I think. It’s there.” He taps the side of his head. “But I can’t bring it to the surface.”
“You’re older than the house,” I say, and lead the way up the porch stairs. “It’s been something I’ve been meaning to look into but haven’t had a chance yet.” I open the door and go into the kitchen. All I know is this house was built b
y a relative and has been lived in by someone on my mom’s side of the family ever since. Before my aunt died, she rented out the house for the cost of the property taxes.
“And we’re in Philadelphia. Someone went through a lot of trouble and probably expense to get you here.” I wash my hands and start making dinner. “It’s on my to-do list.”
Thomas comes up behind me, pulling the pen from my hair, letting my locks cascade down over my shoulders. He puts his lips to my ear and both hands on my hips.
“What else is on your to-do list tonight?”
Chuckling, I turn around and rest my head against his shoulder, not fully realizing just how fucking scared I was of the guys getting seen until right now. Jacques’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and he turns, wings creating a cool draft.
Is he jealous? None of the others have an issue with our arrangement. Thomas and Gil enjoy sharing—as do I—and Hasan doesn’t quite believe in monogamy.
Maybe the issue is Jacques does.
Thomas kisses my neck and squeezes my ass. “What are we making for dinner?”
“This,” I say, and pull up the recipe on my phone. Hasan and Gilbert go into the living room to watch TV, and Jacques gets the grimoire and sits at the table, working on translations, while Thomas helps me make dinner. If anyone were to look in on us…I laugh to myself at the thought.
“Close your eyes.” Jacques takes my hand in his. “And try again.”
I push my shoulders back and try to relax. The floor beneath me is uncomfortable. My jeans are too tight and my underwear is riding up my ass. Don’t get me started on my bra.
Trying to channel my energy into my fingers, my mind shifts from everything I’m trying to block out to wondering if I’ll burn Jacques.
“It’s not working,” I huff, pulling my hands back and shaking them out. “I can’t concentrate.”
“Keep trying. You can get this, Ace.”
I uncross my legs and nod, taking in a deep breath to try and center myself. “I don’t understand how magic works.”
“I think that’s part of your problem,” Jacques starts, getting to his feet. He reaches down and takes my hand, pulling me up. “You want an explanation for everything.”
“That’s what I do. I find things out. If I knew how I was conjuring flames, I could make it happen again.”
“You bring in energy and are able to convert it into magic.”
“But how?”
He smiles. “Those same questions used to haunt me.”
“Really?” I pick up my glass of wine and take a small sip. I don’t drink often, and one glass can do me in. Setting it back on the coffee table, I sit on the couch, angling my body toward Jacques. He brushes his thick, wavy hair back and sits next to me, his proximity sending tingles down my spine. Just being near him is soothing, like he’s one of the missing pieces to the puzzle that is my heart.
“I used to be a lot like you, Ace. I didn’t always believe that those claiming to be victims of black magic were telling the truth. And then my sister got possessed by a demon.”
“Is that why you became a priest?”
He gets a distant look in his eyes. His life was so long ago—hundreds and hundreds of years—but with the curse, it’s almost as if no time has passed for the guys. The pain is still there, and I know there’s more to Jacques’s past than any of us know.
“One of the reasons.” He holds out his hands. “Try again.”
“I’m scared I’ll burn you.”
“You won’t.”
“I could.”
His lips curve into a smile. “You have to figure out how to use your powers first.”
“Ah, right. So you have nothing to worry about.”
“You can do this, Ace. Stop thinking about how and focus on what you feel.”
Nodding, I inhale and close my eyes. Letting out my breath, I think back to chasing the thief in the alley. The way my heart raced. The knife in the guy’s hand.
The way he looked at me like I was a stupid, helpless woman.
“Dig deeper,” Jacques instructs.
I try to bring up the anxiety I felt when Jared pulled into the driveway and the worry it brought on if anyone were to see the guys waking up. It’d be like losing part of me if something happened to them. My feelings for them have grown, and I know they feel the same. My fingertips start to buzz with energy.
And then my thoughts shift, and suddenly I’m standing in my childhood home, not understanding why my bare feet are slipping on the hardwood floor. I call out for my mom. Something is wrong. I don’t know what, but I can feel it.
Mom doesn’t answer.
Neither does Dad.
The strong smell of sulfur fills the air, filling my nostrils and making me feel sick. I blink in the dark, crossing the living room to find the light switch. Before I get there, I trip over something.
Something large and heavy.
The room is dark. I can’t see anything. But that thing I tripped over…it smells like Mom’s perfume.
Fire erupts from my hands, and I yank them back just in time. Opening my eyes, I watch the flames shoot upward, blurring the air around them with heat. My heart is still racing, and no matter how hard I stare into the fire, I still see Mom’s lifeless eyes. I still smell the sulfur and the blood. I still remember the way my feet slipped out from underneath me when I finally turned on the light.
Falling into a puddle of the blood pouring out of Dad’s head.
“Ace,” Jacques calls. “That’s enough.”
The fire grows taller. Embers fall to the couch beneath, and Jacques pats them out. I ball my fists and wait for the flames to die down.
“You did it,” Jacques says with a smile on his face. I wish I could return his excitement, but my mind is still in nine-year-old Ace’s head, finding her murdered parents all over again.
“Ace?”
My lip quivers, and everything else comes rushing back. All the repressed emotions. The shit I went through and the anger I never dealt with over my uncle passing me off like I was nothing.
I close my eyes and turn away, but not in time to hide the single tear that drips down my cheek.
“Ace,” Jacques whispers softly. He wipes away the tear and pulls me into an embrace. I relax against him, listening to his heart beating. It’s slow and steady, and is the only thing calming me down right now.
“It’s all right,” he soothes, running his hand over my hair. His touch is so gentle, so intimate. I don’t want him to let me go. “Where did you go?”
“Back to the night I found my parents.”
He runs his hand over my hair. “Tell me what happened.”
I’m not sure I can find the words. I recounted the horror to the police, then again to the detectives. And twice to my therapist. I’ve tried to block it out ever since.
Not dealing is my way of not feeling. Bury the past and hope it doesn’t rise from the grave.
“I woke up in the middle of the night with this pain in my chest. It wasn’t physical pain, and I know how weird that sounds. I just knew something bad was going to happen. I thought it was going to happen to me. I was terrified. I remember lying in bed, too scared to even move, for what felt like hours.”
I open my eyes, afraid that if I keep them shut, visions will flash before them. Jacques continues to run his hand over my hair, and my heart starts to slow. If he wasn’t holding me, I’d come undone.
“The floor was wet. It was too dark for me to know I was stepping in blood. I still smell it like it’s here around me.”
“Smell what?”
“Sulfur.”
“Are you sure it was sulfur?” He pulls me onto his lap. Being close to him feels so right, like this is where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know if the feeling is real or because of the dreams, but right now, I don’t care. I need him.
“Yes. As soon as I smelled it from the vampires, I knew. But my parents weren’t…they weren’t killed by vampires.”
“Other de
mons can smell like sulfur. Not just vampires. Can you go on?”
“Yeah.” I swallow and go into survival mode, recounting the details without letting myself feel. “They were on the floor, bleeding from the head. It, uh, it…” My heart starts to race.
“Take your time,” Jacques soothes.
“They were hit. Their heads, I mean. Someone smashed them together hard enough to crack their skulls. But that’s not all. Their hearts were frozen from the inside out. No one knew what could have done it, and they were killed a few hours before I found them. I don’t remember anything before that, though. I didn’t hear anything at all. There was no sign of forced entry. Nothing was stolen. Even though I was young, I heard the rumors that it had to be something supernatural. But I knew it wasn’t. Because I was going to find the bastard who killed them and do the same to him.”
“And that’s why you became a detective.”
“One of the reasons,” I say with a wry smile, repeating his own words from earlier. “So…that’s what I thought about to get the fire to work. All it takes is a bad flashback and I’m good to go.”
“No,” he assures me. “We know your powers are triggered by your emotions, which is common. You’re using them defensively, and thinking about past tragedies makes you feel vulnerable.”
“It’s like I went back there all over again. I try not to think about it. And yes, I know how unhealthy not dealing is. But it got me this far and I’m doing just fine, right?”
“You are.”
“Can we do something else? Maybe try a spell from the book or something?”
“Of course. Let’s go over the newest translations about elements.”
I move out of Jacques’s embrace and get the book. We sit close together, flipping through pages as he explains to me what was written and elaborates on what he knows from his own experience.
“So,” I say, flipping through the book. “What kind of spell can I try? Something with immediate results would be best. I like instant gratification.”
Jacques chuckles. “Don’t we all.”