shadows of salem 01 - shadow born

by hamilton, rebecca

  “I would very much like that.” Father James rose, then shook my hand with a smile. “Be careful with your investigation into Tom’s death, Brooke. If my hunch is right and the supernatural are involved, things could get very dangerous for you.”

  I thanked him again, then hoofed it home as fast as I could without breaking into a run. I made sure to stick to well-lit areas, not wanting to run into another shade, or any other type of fae, really. I might have some new iron bullets, but that didn’t mean I wanted to confront creatures that I still knew little about.

  Once I was safely behind the locked door of my apartment, I whipped out my phone and called Uncle Oscar. I hadn’t intended on calling him so soon since I knew how he felt about me coming out here, but after the day I had, I wanted to hear a familiar voice.

  “Hey kid,” he said, and his deep, gruff voice was like a balm to my frazzled nerves.

  “Hey Uncle.” I sat down heavily on the couch. “How’s it going?”

  “That’s what I should be asking you. Last we spoke, I thought I might not be hearing from you again for a while. You were pretty upset.”

  I snorted. “If you’d really been worried about me, you’d have blown up my phone with calls and text messages.”

  Uncle Oscar let out a gusty sigh. “True. I figured you were probably just simmering down after our last argument.”

  “You could say that.” I let out a sigh of my own.

  We’d fought bitterly before I left, had both flung barbs at each other that still stung whenever I thought about them too much. So I hadn’t thought about it, had shoved it aside so I could focus on what mattered. Finding Tom.

  “So, how is it going?” Uncle Oscar asked. “Made some good use of your vamp gun yet?”

  “No, actually,” I admitted. “But I did get into a fight with a shade tonight.”

  The phone went silent for several seconds before Uncle Oscar exploded. “What the hell?” he shouted, and I winced as my ear rang. “What do you mean you got into a fight with a shade? You’re not trained to fight shades! You’re not supposed to even know what they are!”

  “Calm down!” I ordered, hardening my voice. “I survived, okay? A priest came around the corner and shot him with some iron bullets. He gave me some, and now I know what to do next time. In fact, this might have been less of an issue if you’d prepared me for such a scenario!” A scathing tone entered my voice.

  There was a sharp intake of breath, then a long silence. “Jesus, kid. Just what the hell are you getting into over there?” Oscar finally asked.

  I told him everything—Captain Randall’s refusal to let me work the case, Detective Baxter’s strange inability to remember my fiancé even though everybody knew him, my encounter with Maddock Tremaine at his strange club, the motel room that was mysteriously untouched by the fire that had reportedly killed Tom, and my run-in with the shade and the priest.

  “The more time I spend here, the more I’m convinced that Tom got mixed up with the supernatural community here, and it got him killed,” I finished.

  “Damn right it did.” Uncle Oscar growled. “And if you keep this up, it’s going to get you killed, too.”

  “Uncle Oscar—”

  “Come home, kid.” There was a strange note beneath his voice, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounded like a plea. “Get out of that crazy town before you end up the same way Tom did. You’re in way over your head, and you know it.”

  “I’m not coming home.” I dug my free hand into the couch cushions. “I didn’t come all the way out here to turn tail and run at the first sight of supernatural activity— after all, I came here looking for it. I’ve always known there were things—supernatural things—besides vampires. It’s about time I found out what they are.”

  “No, it’s not!” Uncle Oscar’s voice bubbled with frustration. “Not like this! Come home, Brooke. Come back to Chicago, let me give you a little more training. You’re not ready to deal with this stuff.”

  The use of my name, plus the offer to train, gave me pause. But then I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head. “You had your chance to train me, Uncle Oscar, and instead you decided to keep me in the dark. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I’m a grown woman now. I don’t need you making my decisions for me.”

  “You’re being incredibly foolish. If you’d just let me give you some more training—”

  “And how exactly do I know that you’re even going to give me this training when I come back?” I demanded. “How do I know that you’re not going to try and lock me up or convince me to abandon my investigation into Tom’s death?”

  The ringing silence on the other end of the line was all I needed to hear.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said quietly, my heart aching. I’d hoped that Uncle Oscar would deny it, but he was too brutally honest for that. He might have intended to train me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything in his power to prevent me from going back to Salem afterward. “I’m not doing this with you, Uncle Oscar. Not anymore. Goodbye.”

  I hung up the phone, let a single tear trail down my cheek, then wiped it away.

  No more tears. No more guilt. Finding out the truth about what happened to Tom meant I had to let go of everything that was holding me back, and if that included cutting my ties with Uncle Oscar, then that was what I’d do.

  CHAPTER 10

  I’d barely settled down after my phone call with Uncle Oscar when my front door buzzer sounded. After the day I’d had, I considered ignoring it. But curiosity trumped my desire to be alone—after all, I was new in town. Who on earth would be knocking on my door?

  Switching the burner underneath my pot of marinara sauce to low, I stepped away from the stove and peered through the peephole. Shelley was standing on the other side, looking nervously down the hall, and the strain on her face suggested she wasn’t here for a social visit.

  Sighing, I disengaged the locks and opened the door. “Hey, Shelley. What’s up?”

  “Brooke.” Her voice brimmed with both relief and anxiety—she’d probably been worried I wasn’t home. “Sorry, I mean Detective. I should be calling you Detective, right? But I don’t remember your last name…”

  “It’s Chandler.” I gently took her by the shoulder and led her into my living room. “But it doesn’t matter; you can call me Brooke. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  “I…” Shelley allowed me to steer her to the sofa, and she sat beside me, folding her hands neatly into her lap. “It might be nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing if it’s got you worried enough to come to a cop’s doorstep.”

  She let out a sigh and twisted a strand of her long hair around a finger. “It’s my eldest son, Jason. He’s acting very secretive, refusing to let me in his room, giving me strange glances, clamming up when I ask him questions about his day. And he’s been staying out late, very late. I…I think he’s mixed up in some kind of gang.”

  “Huh.” I frowned, thinking over the small bits of information she’d given me. “Are you sure it’s a gang, and not just a group of friends? I mean, no offense, but what you’ve described to me sounds like common teenage behavior.”

  Shelley bit her lip. “That’s true…but there’s been other things, too. He’s been wearing scarves and using makeup to hide injuries. And one time, I walked in the kitchen at one in the morning to find him washing what looked like blood off his hands.” She shuddered. “He refused to discuss it with me, of course, and just stalked back into his room and slammed the door in my face. I’ve tried grounding him, but I’ve got so much to do with working full-time and taking care of Tyler…” Her voice grew thick, and she wiped at a tear sliding down her cheek. “He blames me.”

  “Blames you? For what?”

  She sniffed back more tears. “His father died last year. Killed in an accident.” Her eyes flicked away, then back again. “He was abusive, and a drunkard…but he and Jason loved each other. He doesn’t say it anym
ore, but I know he thinks that if I’d tried harder, if I’d just pushed David to get treatment, that everything would have been okay.”

  “You and I both know that’s not true,” I said calmly, pushing down the anger rising in my throat. “You were the victim, Shelley. His behavior was not your fault.”

  “Maybe,” Shelley whispered, eyes downcast. She clenched her fists in her lap, and her voice grew stronger. “Maybe, but if I’m honest with myself, I didn’t want to help David. Not after all the bruises, all the broken bones, all the tears. I just wanted to leave him. And that’s why I can’t face the look in Jason’s eyes sometimes. Because I know that in a way, he’s right. I didn’t try to get David help.”

  “Shelley, look at me.” I placed a hand on her trembling thigh and waited until her tear-filled eyes met my steady ones. “How long were you married to David?”

  She sniffed. “Fifteen years.”

  “So I think it’d be safe to say you knew him pretty well then, huh?”

  “Better than anyone else.” An ugly note entered her voice. “He put on an act for the world, made himself appear to be the doting father and husband, the hard-working man. He saved the real David for when we were behind closed doors.”

  “Right. So in your estimation, do you think that David would have listened to your suggestion to seek treatment, or go after it himself?”

  Shelley was quiet for a moment. “No,” she said eventually, shaking her head. “No. He would have beaten me for suggesting it.”

  “Then put the guilt aside,” I said firmly. “I know it’s hard, but blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault isn’t going to help your son. It sounds like the two of you need to talk out your issues, maybe with a mediator, or that you need to seek help yourselves. I can try to get some recommendations for you, but beyond that, I don’t think I’ll be much help.”

  “I’ll try that,” Shelley said, though she didn’t sound very hopeful, “but in the meanwhile, is there any way you could try and find out what he’s been up to? Like, maybe follow him around and see if you can catch him doing any gang-related activity?”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “You’d probably be better suited hiring a PI for that.”

  “I would, but I don’t have the money.” Shelley looked up at me, her dark eyes pleading. “Please, Detective. I need to find out what my son’s gotten into before it gets him killed.”

  Salem was a small town—finding out the names of the local gangs would be simple, and compared to what I’d dealt with in Chicago, would be small time. It probably wouldn’t take a whole lot of time to figure out what Jason had tangled himself up in.

  “All right.” I sighed a little. “I’ll look into it.”

  “Thank you.” Shelley flung her arms around me. “Thank you so much.” She dug out a picture of him from her pocket, then handed it to me. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

  I walked her out to her car, which she’d parallel-parked by the curb in front of my building. As I watched her drive off, I mused over what she’d told me…and also what she hadn’t.

  She’d broken eye contact when telling me about her ex’s death, and while she might not have been lying, I had a feeling there was more to the story. And then there was still the matter of that vision I’d had when her ring had touched me. She’d been mixed up with vampires at some point, and that made me wonder if her son was involved with something as run-of-the-mill as a human gang, or with something more sinister.

  Bitter wind nipped at my cheeks and bare arms, and I tilted my head toward the stiff breeze. Most people shied away from cold, but I loved it. There was something so invigorating about an icy wind. But I only allowed myself a moment before I headed up the stairs and back into the apartment—after all, I still had dinner cooking.

  My stomach rumbled at the scent of hot marinara sauce, and I headed toward the stove to turn it off before it burned. But before I’d made it two steps, an unseen force knocked me back. Hard.

  I stumbled, tripping over my own heels, then fell into the side table next to my couch. Pain radiated up my back as the new vase I’d bought crashed to the floor, and I rolled to the side, working to get my feet under me while simultaneously trying to find my attacker. That same unseen force gripped me by the throat, and I choked and sputtered, grasping at fingers that weren’t there. Fear escalated to panic as the force lifted me off the ground, and I kicked out, feet dangling uselessly above the carpet.

  The air around me blurred, and the next thing I knew, I was in my bathroom. The shower curtain was ripped aside, and I slammed into my tub with so much force that my head rattled.

  I heard the thunk of the stopper being pushed into the drain, and I yelped as cold water jetted out of the faucet on full blast. I thrashed around, trying to get up, but something heavy was pinning me to the tub, and I couldn’t move more than a few inches. Soon the water was up to my collarbone, and I began to panic. It was only a matter of time before it rose above my head.

  I was going to drown.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Help!” I shrieked, thrashing against the unseen force pinning me against the rapidly-filling tub. “Someone, please help!”

  God, please let these paper-thin apartment walls be good for something!

  Tears sprang to my eyes as the icy water brushed my jawbone. Whether it was the violent rush of the tub filling or the next-door neighbor’s blaring country music, nobody could hear me scream. Or maybe they didn’t care, didn’t want to get involved.

  I was going to die here.

  Not at the hand of a vampire, or a crazed drug addict, or a bloodthirsty gang member…but by drowning in my own goddamn bathtub because some ghost—or otherwise unseen force—had it in for me.

  “No!” I growled as anger bubbled up inside me. I wasn’t going out like this. I wasn’t! There had to be something I could do to get this stupid spirit off me.

  “Banishing evil spirits takes a level of skill that cannot be taught in a single conversation.” Father James’s words came back to me. “However, if you should run across one, a little prayer and faith will go a long way. Simply focus all your willpower and shout, “Capsicum annuum!” as loudly as you can. You have to really mean it, but if you do it right, you should render the wraith immobile.”

  A wraith. That had to be it.

  “Capsicum annuum!” I screamed, focusing all my effort and energy toward the ghost.

  My desperate shout echoed off the tile walls, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the temperature in the room plunged so sharply I was amazed the water didn’t turn to ice. The pressure on my chest dissipated, and a glowing blue figure coalesced in the air above my abdomen.

  My scream faded into silence as the two of us stared at each other in shock.

  The wraith was…not what I expected. She was a woman in her early twenties, wearing full colonial garb: a floral-printed gown with a petticoat and sleeveless ruffles. A matching hat was perched on her head. She would have looked like she was dressed for an outing with friends, if not for the fact that half of her lovely face had been burned away.

  I shuddered at the way her left eye stared at me; the eyelids had been burned off, as well as much of the skin on her cheeks, giving me a glimpse of the bone and sinew beneath. I didn’t know why her eyes were bugging out, though—I was the one who’d been attacked.

  “What the fuck are you?” I demanded.

  Those wide eyes blinked now—or at least the right one did. The woman reached up to touch the unmarred side of her face. “I…I’m a ghost?”

  “Yeah, no shit.” My body was still trembling with fear, but I forced myself to get over it. The ghost wasn’t attacking me anymore, and I needed to get out of this damned tub and into dry clothes. Cold was one thing, but I hated being wet.

  I levered myself out of the tub, which was no easy feat, and dripped icy water on my navy blue bathroom floor mat. The back of my head was throbbing from its impromptu encounter with the tub, my sodden clothes weighed me d
own, and my silver hair plastered against my scalp and face. Not wanting to track puddles all over the new carpet, I shed my clothing on the bathroom floor and trudged into my bedroom stark-naked to grab something clean and dry to wear.

  To my irritation, the ghost-woman followed me, hovering by my bed as I rummaged through my closet. “Do you mind?” I snapped irritably as I shoved my legs into a pair of underwear. “I’m not exactly decent.”

  “I’m not looking,” the ghost said, her eyes averted to the ground.

  “Well, what are you doing?” I hooked on a bra, then tugged a black sweater over my head. I grimaced as my hair soaked the back of my sweater, and quickly wrapped my silver strands in a bath towel. “Waiting for another opportunity?”

  “No,” the ghost said sadly. “You’ve stripped me of my corporeal form. I can’t touch you now.”

  The stench of burning sauce caught my nostrils and derailed my train of thought.

  “Fuck!”

  Abandoning my questions, I dashed out of the room and went to turn off the stove before my apartment caught fire. The ghost perched herself on the counter and watched as I scavenged what sauce I could and finished cleaning up. I gritted my teeth as she began whistling the tune to Greensleeves off-key and swinging her legs back and forth.

  “If you’re going to hang around here,” I growled, “at least tell me something useful. Who are you, and where did you come from?”

  “My name is Celia Johnson.” The leg swinging stopped. “I’m from here, Salem. In fact, the house I used to live in stood just a few blocks from here before they tore it down and built a shopping area there. A butcher’s shop sits where my house used to be, and I usually haunt that.”

  “Interesting.” I snapped the lid onto a piece of tupperware, then glanced up at her. “What made you decide to leave the butcher’s shop?”

  “Oh, well, I’ve stayed at the shop for so long because it’s where I died. I was cooking dinner in the backyard, and my stepmother knocked me into the fire pit.” An ugly look crossed Celia’s face as she reached up to touch her burned skin. “I got vengeance on her, of course, but I guess it wasn’t enough because I’m still trapped on this plain. But the man who came to talk to me yesterday said that if I killed you, I could move on.” Her face brightened momentarily before she sank back into a sulk. “Except now I can’t anymore.”