I stared up at the wooden beams overhead. “Not anymore.”
The lightness that was in Andre’s voice a moment ago vanished. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“The Politia put me on an investigation.”
“What kind of investigation?” Andre’s words were slow and deliberate, which meant that he was trying to control his emotions.
“The kind where people show up dead.” I glanced out my window at the dark night. The thin crescent moon did little to drive out the night’s darkness. Below it the mountains stained the horizon an even deeper shade of black. This was a wild, mysterious place.
“Gabrielle,” Andre said, much too calmly. “Are you still on the Isle of Man?”
“No.”
“Where, exactly, are you?” His voice was sharp, his words clipped. Andre was losing control of his emotions. Oh goody.
“Cluj-Napoca, Romania.”
The line fell silent.
“Andre?”
“You’re in Cluj-Napoca?” The name rolled smoothly off his lips, reminding me that he spoke Romanian.
“Yes.”
Another pause, then, “I’m coming over.”
Coming over? I could hear him moving into action on the other end of the line.
“What hotel are you staying at?” he asked.
“Whoa there, Andre. You’re not thinking about meeting up with me, are you?”
“Of course I am.”
How close could he possibly be to consider visiting me right now?
I rubbed my eyes. “I’m about to go to sleep, and you have a trial to worry about.”
“You don’t understand, Gabrielle,” he said. Something awfully close to fear laced his voice.
“Understand what?” My skin prickled. This was one of those moments where I recognized how little I knew about this supernatural world.
“Cluj-Napoca was the small Romanian village I grew up in.” The phone slipped a little at this new piece of information. Somewhere in this region, 700 years ago, Andre had grown and nearly died. This was where the devil had cursed him. “It’s also the place where my current trial is being held,” he added.
“You’re here?” My eyes fluttered, and I sat up, twisting his ring around and around my finger. “In the same city?”
“Yes.”
I swore. This was just too coincidental.
When Andre spoke again, his voice was grim. “Something’s brewing, and I fear you’re at the center of it. Again.”
I lay awake in my bed, staring at the wooden beams over my head. I was supposed to be asleep—I’d even managed to convince Andre to put off visiting me for that very reason. However, as soon as I turned the lights off, my thoughts took off.
My pulse skittered along. Two months ago, I’d solved my first case, and when it began, I’d assumed it had nothing to do with me. Since then, I’d learned that the fates were dabbling in my life, and the devil desperately wanted me. Though I had no idea why these beings took an interest in me, I now knew the signs. Whatever was going on here, I might very well have something to do with it.
My thoughts moved to the case and the young victim. The torn flesh of the girl’s feet bothered me. Why would someone walk until their feet bled unless they were under duress? And if they were, then they wouldn’t willingly give their blood, would they?
I rubbed my temples.
“Siren.”
My head snapped up at the voice. Was that just my imagination? I strained my ears and sat in the silence of my room.
“Come face me.”
The voice sounded like it was coming from outside. I threw off my covers and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. While I tugged on my boots, I heard the voice speak again.
“If you dare.”
I left my room and strode down the hallway. No one was in the lobby any longer, but the remnants of the fire crackled in the fireplace, now mostly dying embers.
I crossed the lobby and gazed out a window near the inn’s main entrance. In this section of the city only a handful of dim lights lit the street. That, combined with my ever-improving night vision, allowed me to study the landscape outside.
A shadow flashed between a cluster of trees. I squinted, trying to make out what I saw, but whatever had moved was beyond even my range of sight.
I reached for the handle of the inn’s front door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I jumped at the voice and whipped around.
Caleb stood behind me, his arms folded. He didn’t look pleased.
I put a hand to my heart. “You scared the crap out of me.” He shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on me. Either I’d been more absorbed in the strange voice, or he was getting better at disguising himself.
His eyes flicked from me to the front door. “Going for a midnight stroll?” He sounded accusing.
I glanced back outside. “I heard something, and I wanted to check it out.”
“There’s a killer out there somewhere.”
“I’m also a killer,” I reminded him.
He flinched. “You could get hurt.” I could smell the adrenaline as it hit his veins. Normally that meant that he was just excited to talk to me, but right now I suspected he was angry.
I rolled my eyes. “Melodramatic much?”
His lips drew down. “No, not really, considering how every time you go rogue you end up putting your life in danger.”
“That’s not fair,” I said, even though his words were absolutely true. But what he’d forgotten to mention was that I often found myself without good alternative choices.
His gaze moved over my face, and he sighed. “Honestly?” he said. “I get it. I get that there are a lot of things in your life that just aren’t fair. I’m not trying to make you feel bad about them. I just don’t want to have to do this every night—babysit you on an official investigation.”
Babysit? I slitted my eyes. “Were you watching me?” A thought blossomed. Had Caleb been in the room with me—or out in the hall—in some other form?
I walked up to him. “Were you watching me?” I repeated.
Caleb stood there obstinately, his arms still folded over his chest. “You really think that little of me, Gabrielle?” he asked, cocking his head. I could see a flash of hurt in his eyes.
“You followed me out here,” I challenged him.
“To make sure you weren’t running headlong into trouble, like you have a tendency to do.”
I clenched my fists. “You don’t know the first thing about my tendencies.”
Caleb stepped in closer and his jaw tightened. “You are a siren, Gabrielle, a type of supernatural cursed with misfortune and untimely death—and that’s not even the worst of your problems.”
His face lost some of its anger. “Do you know what it’s like to worry that one night your friend might just be gone—taken?” he whispered. “Taken by your worst nightmare.” His eyes glittered with some emotion as he gazed at me. “Because that happened to you on Samhain, Gabrielle, and now that’s what goes through my head, over and over.”
“That’s not going to happen again,” I said softly.
“I’m not stupid, so don’t lie to me to make me feel better,” he snapped. “I heard the fate that night. It will happen the next time you die.”
I winced at his words.
He stepped forward, getting in my face. “But more than that, don’t lie to yourself, Gabrielle,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. He’d make a great interrogator one day; he already had me squirming. “Just because we’re no longer at the Braaid doesn’t mean this is over. Far from it.
“I don’t know everything that happened to you that night, but I can tell you this: the more reckless you are, the soon
er you’ll have to face that horror all over again.”
Chapter 5
The next morning, after we’d showered and eaten breakfast, Caleb and I loaded ourselves into Grigori’s car. The first event on today’s agenda was visiting the crime scene.
I wouldn’t look at Caleb, and he seemed fine with that. We’d parted on uneasy terms the night before. I didn’t know what to make of him anymore. The boy who once had deep feelings for me now seemed to hate that he cared for me. It made me feel angry and incredibly guilty to think that I somehow did this to him.
We pulled out of the inn. Now in the light of day, I could see that we were in fact on the edges of the city. The inn rested on a hill, giving me a panoramic view of Cluj-Napoca.
Everywhere I looked I saw red roof tiles, domes, and spires. The city was a thing of the past, at least to my California-grown eyes. The closer I looked, the more modern architecture I saw tucked away between rooflines. But the effect wasn’t lost. No wonder the supernatural world so easily made its home here. Everything about the place seemed a little fantastical.
The car ride took us further and further out of the city, until trees replaced buildings. A short while later Grigori pulled off the road.
We got out of the car, and Grigori passed Caleb and me each a pair of latex gloves. “Use these once we enter the woods. Anything in there could potentially be a part of the crime scene.”
I removed my knit gloves to put on the latex ones. As soon as I did so, I could practically feel my warmth leaving me through my fingertips.
I could be enjoying hot chocolate right now in the comfort of my dorm room.
Grigori’s gaze moved from us to some distant point in the woods. “I have to warn you,” he said to us, “this forest will play tricks on your senses.”
Already I could feel some ominous presence press down on me. I wondered what Leanne would think if she were here. I smiled sardonically. She wouldn’t come within ten miles of this place … unless it was to protect me. My smile fell from my lips. I shouldn’t be here, I didn’t want to be here—especially after talking with Andre last night—but that didn’t stop me from following Grigori and Caleb into the forest.
A chilly fog hung low in the woods; it dampened my jeans and made my surroundings appear all the more sinister. The trees around me stood straight and tall, their branches bare of leaves.
I saw no woodland creatures, but I heard scuttling and saw barren trees rustle. If I listened hard enough, I could make out the quiet heartbeats of the animals that lived here. Haunted or not, at least something lived in Hoia Baciu forest.
We trekked through the woods for ten minutes before I glimpsed the crime scene tape. Beyond it was … nothing extraordinary. It looked like every other square foot of forest I’d passed. Barren trees, fallen leaves, some scattered rocks.
My nostrils flared. While I hadn’t seen anything unusual, my nose picked up the sickly sweet smell of blood and decay.
Next to me I noticed Grigori scent the air. I furrowed my brows, wondering what kind of supernatural he was. Something with a good sense of smell. If I had to guess, I’d place money on a therianthrope—a were-creature.
When we reached the tape, Grigori lifted it so that Caleb and I could duck through. Once the three of us crossed the barrier, the smell of blood and carnage became sharper and more complex. I closed my eyes to better focus on the scent. Something pure overlaid the tangy, fetid smell of death.
Angel blood.
So many residual scents flavored this most overpowering smell, but before I could read further into them, Caleb’s breath caught. I let my eyes flutter open.
We stood in the middle of a small clearing. The trees around us contorted into unnatural shapes. But that wasn’t what had caught my partner’s attention.
In the center of the clearing rested a stone altar. Vines twisted up its sides, some dead, some living. The victim’s scent was strongest there.
“What is a stone altar doing in the middle of forest?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Grigori said, his voice frustrated.
I crept closer. A maroon stain had dried on the altar’s surface. Nausea rose at the sight. I put the back of my hand to my mouth and collected myself. A stone altar resting along a ley line—that couldn’t be good. It looked as though it had grown up from the ground, as though the earth itself demanded payment for its magic.
Behind me a twig cracked. I threw a glance over my shoulder, thinking Caleb was behind me. I was wrong.
Something shifted between the trees, but then it was gone. The tempo of my heartbeat increased. It felt as though the whole forest was watching us.
“Have you seen anything like it before?” Grigori asked. If he felt foolish for asking a teenager such a question, he didn’t show it.
I turned back and stared at the altar, seeing it even as a different image played out in my mind’s eye. One where the altar was located in a cathedral made of bones. On it my friend lay, unconscious, and then later, dead.
“Yes,” I said solemnly, remembering the things that had crowded around that altar. “I have seen something like it once before.”
I felt Death’s finger draw down my spine.
“And … ?” Grigori prompted.
I took a deep breath. “I saw it on the night of Samhain, when the devil took me.”
I glanced at Grigori, just to make sure that he knew what I was talking about. He nodded. “I have heard the story of your abduction..”
“One of the places he took me to was an ossuary,” I said. “When we arrived, my friend’s doppelganger lay unconscious on an altar not so different from this one.” I swallowed the lump in my throat before I spoke again. “The devil ordered her killed, and …” I worked my jaw, “a group of beings the devil commanded slit her throat.”
Both Caleb and Grigori were silent while they processed my words. “Did they drain her blood?” Grigori finally asked.
“They didn’t,” I said, “but I don’t know if they were planning to. The ossuary … exploded right after this.”
A grim silence descended once more as we turned our attention back to the crime scene. Dread and something like acceptance cloaked me. This murder might very well be the work of the devil.
I circled the altar, eyeing its bloodstained surface.
“Do you know what the beings were that stood around the altar in the ossuary?” Caleb asked.
I glanced up at him, thinking about the robed things that had killed my friend. They’d seemed to be made of shadow.
I shook my head. “I have no clue.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of the crime scene again, picking out the scents. It was hard to discern the fainter smells under all the blood, especially now that a crime scene unit had trampled through the area. I focused on picking out the strongest scent other than the victim’s. Something sweet and burnt lingered just beneath the smell of blood.
A frustrated sigh escaped me. It could very well belong to the killer, but it could also belong to the team that had analyzed the scene. There was no way to know for sure.
Once we left the crime scene, we headed to the Politia’s offices. The Romanian branch was centered in Bucharest, but each city with a large supernatural population had a station, including Cluj. And right now, Cluj’s housed our case’s evidence.
Grigori pulled the car into a packed parking lot in the middle of Cluj, and I caught my first real glimpse of what the Politia looked like outside of the Isle of Man.
The building was white with red rooftiles, just like many of the surrounding buildings, and it appeared weatherworn and fairly old. However, unlike Castle Rushen on the Isle of Man, this building didn’t seem to hold any supernatural cultural heritage. It was just … a building.
Caleb and I followed Grigori inside. A smile tugged
on my lips when I noticed the similarities between the Politia here and the Politia on the Isle of Man. The same smell of coffee and pastries permeated the air, as did the buzz of activity.
Grigori nodded to people or briefly exchanged words with them in Romanian as he led us down to the basement.
I ignored the stares from people who recognized my face. I’d become infamous in the last several months, and it didn’t help that the siren in me drew people in. Too bad I’d forgotten to pack the perfume Leanne had given me.
“Gabrielle, you have a good nose on you, right?” Grigori asked as we followed him down the hall.
“Um, yes.”
“Good, good. I wanted to see if you could pull any smells from the evidence.”
I gazed at him curiously as we walked into a sterilized room. I might have a good nose on me, but so did he. What insight could I possibly provide that others couldn’t?
Some demonologist I was.
Inside the room rested a table, and on it, a cardboard container filled with plastic baggies.
Evidence.
Grigori grabbed a pair of latex gloves from a dispenser next to the door and walked over to the box. “I’ve had Evidence pull some of the items found on our victim to see if you might get a read on them.”
Caleb and I peered over his shoulder at the plastic bags. I recognized the twine rope and the white gown the victim wore. Both were drenched in blood.
Grigori reached into the box and grabbed the bag that contained the clothing item. “See what scents you smell from this.” He opened it up and placed it below my nose.
I forced myself not to stumble back as the smell of blood and rotting gore hit my nose. It overpowered all the other smells.
Remember what Andre taught you. Scents came in layers. If I could separate them, then I could distinguish them.
I slowed my breathing and let this first smell invade my senses. The scent of blood contained something otherworldly—divinity. Once I’d familiarized myself with the smell, I noticed something below it.
The Cursed (The Unearthly) Page 4