The Promised One (The Turning Stone Chronicles)

by C. D. Hersh

  At the end of the alley, a neon sign blinked the words ‘Rogueman’s Bar’ over a scarred doorway. She bent forward, her hands on her knees, and gasped for breath. Rising slowly, she scanned the alley. There appeared to be no other way out except the door.

  She curled her left hand into a fist and laid her other hand over the bloodstone ring. If she had to follow him in there, she would do it as someone else. She pictured her dead brother’s face in her mind and reminded herself she was chasing a robber. This was not for her benefit.

  The ring warmed against her fingers as the familiar tingle of transformation began. She faced the building wall in case anyone exited the bar. Heat coursed through her veins and then her muscles, as bone and sinew twisted and reformed from female to male.

  When the tingling stopped, she moved to the bar door and checked her reflection in the dirty glass window. Her brother stared back at her. An ache filled her heart upon seeing his face. Maybe I should have chosen a different mimic. Caressing her reflection, she mused on the irony of hunting Baron’s killer using her brother’s identity. Although it made her sad, she didn’t feel as alone wearing his face. She shook her head, then opened the door. This disguise would do just fine.

  The minute she opened the door Alexi knew she was in trouble. The bar was full of men and women—all surrounded by dark red auras streaked with forest green and black. The air hung heavy with a sense of evil she had only come into contact with in prisons.

  Shifters. Probably rogues. She backed out of the door as quickly as possible. What were so many shifters doing in one place?

  Shaw watched the man retreat out the bar door and breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe . . . for the moment. He backed against the wall and took in his surroundings. He’d never been in this bar before, and he’d frequented nearly every one in the city at some time or another. The air practically hummed with something that made his skin jumpy, heightening his awareness to a level he’d never experienced. The ring on his finger felt warm. Shaw glanced at it, hoping the damned lines were still. Nothing moved. He relaxed. No unexpected changing—for now.

  A server approached, dragging his bar towel off his shoulder. “What’ll it be, mate? Beer? Whiskey?” He wiped the tabletop, flicking peanut shells onto the floor.

  Shaw watched the server’s hand swish the towel over the table, and his gaze caught a familiar sight on the man’s finger. He’s wearing a ring like mine. Is he a . . .? What the hell would he be called anyway? A morpher? A were-person?

  The server flipped his towel over his shoulder. “If ya’ll not be buying, mister, ya’ll be leaving.”

  “Sorry,” Shaw stammered. “I was just admiring your ring.”

  Two vertical furrows appeared between the server’s reddish eyebrows, and he slid his hand down to his side. “Ya were, were ya?” His voice lost its friendliness, the Irish brogue deepening.

  “I was wondering where you got it.”

  “Ya do, do ya?”

  Shaw’d heard that tone before—right before his nose got broke. Definitely not friendly. He laid his right hand on the table. “I do.”

  The server gave him the once-over and then glanced around the room. He bent forward and swiped at the table again. “I can tell yer new to the group,” he whispered. “Ya don’t wear it on yer shaking hand.”

  Shaw started to take off the ring.

  “Stop,” the server hissed. “If ya drop it or lose contact with the ring when yer shifted—and I think ya are—you’ll lose yer form. And yer better off in here if no one knows who ya really are.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Now git outta here while the gitting’s good. The rest aren’t as nice as I am.”

  “But I got questions.”

  “Ask yer mentor.”

  Mentor? What the hell was he talking about?

  The server rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell! Ya just came on the thing, didn’t ya?” He stepped closer. “Take my advice. Throw the damned ring in the river before it’s too late. Get rid of it before Samhain.”

  “Samhain?”

  “All Hallows Eve . . . Halloween,” the server said when he didn’t answer. “Git outta here before someone else figures ya out. I don’t need the cops coming here because someone killed ya for that ring.”

  Shaw rose to leave.

  “And don’t let yer fat ass touch anyone as ya go.”

  Shaw wished he’d chosen a different body. Squeezing through the growing crowd without touching was not going to be easy. But since his life depended on it, he’d do whatever was necessary.

  Chapter 22

  “Are you nuts or just stupid?” Captain Williams asked. “I told you to leave the reports about Baron, and Baron impersonators, alone.”

  Alexi considered the options. Nuts would put her back on admin leave. Stupid might get her reprimanded.

  “Stupid, Sir.”

  Rhys directed an angry stare toward her. “You’re nuts.”

  “Shut up, Temple,” the captain and Alexi said in unison.

  “You jumped into traffic chasing some guy all because you’ve got this obsession over someone impersonating Baron. You could have been hit.” Rhys appealed to the captain. “I think she needs more time off.”

  “I think you need to shut up,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Knock it off! Both of you!” Captain Williams’ booming voice set the glass office walls trembling. Every head in the common area swiveled toward the noise. The captain snapped one set of office blinds down, and then the other, as workers scurried around pretending they hadn’t heard his outburst.

  Alexi cringed. It was one thing to be reamed over, but quite another to be publicly humiliated. She’d expected the captain to be angry, just not this angry.

  “I should put you on leave for this stunt, but you’re a good cop, Jordan, and I need you right now.”

  “But—”

  The captain pointed his finger at Rhys. “Not another word, Temple.”

  Rhys clamped his mouth shut. Alexi fought to keep the smile off her face. At least the captain was keeping Rhys at bay.

  “But,” Captain Williams continued, “if I catch you doing anything else like this, I will put you on leave. Read my lips, Jordan. Stay. Away. From. Burglary. You’re a homicide cop. Start acting like one and solve some murders. Got it?”

  She bit her lips together and nodded. “Got it.” But the captain didn’t. Baron’s murder was not solved. She’d risk everything to find the murderer . . . and the ring.

  The captain hooked his thumb toward the door. “Both of you, get outta here.”

  As the door closed behind them with a bang, Alexi faced Rhys, her hands braced on her hips. “I expected more support. Were you trying to get me suspended?”

  “He should have.”

  She hit Rhys’ shoulder with the heel of her hand. “I’m just doing my job, Rhys. Running down the bad guys.”

  “More like running a vendetta,” Rhys said as he rubbed the shoulder.

  His words pierced her. “I am not.” Her voice had less conviction than she hoped.

  “Baron’s killer confessed. What’s driving you now?”

  “Like I said before, I’m tired of having some impersonator using Baron’s face. I want to catch this guy.” For all her efforts to keep the killer search on professional ground, she couldn’t seem to crush the anger over Baron’s murder.

  “It seems like a vendetta to me and, after today’s events, I’d say it’s running you.”

  “And what if it is?” The words came out as a challenge, daring him to do anything. “You’d do the same if the situation were reversed.”

  “But it’s not and it’s getting out of hand.” He steered her into an empty conference room and closed the door. “The man you chased didn’t look like Baron.” He gently settled her on a chair and perched on the corner of the conference table. “I’m worried about you, Lexi. I think you might need to talk to someone.”

  She popped out of the chair. “You think I’m nuts. Imagi
ning things.”

  “He was young. And fat. He had no beard. Yeah, I think you’re imagining things.”

  “That’s why you said that to Williams?”

  “You’re my partner and I want to protect you. Besides, he’ll read it in the report.”

  So much for protecting me. When the captain reads the report, he’ll send me to a psychiatrist. Alexi dropped back on the chair. “I know things don’t make sense, but you’ve got to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it from here.” He stood. “Let’s forget about this. We’ve got a case to work.”

  “Before Williams puts us both on suspension?”

  “Somebody’s got to pay the rent.”

  “It’s a mortgage.”

  “Not for me—unless you’ve got something else in mind.”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Don’t push your luck, buster. You can’t call me nuts in one breath and angle for a house key in the next.”

  “Dang.” Rhys snapped his fingers and twisted his features into mock disappointment. “And I thought I had you wrapped around my pinky.”

  “In your dreams.”

  A sensual smile lit his face. “It’s other parts in my dreams.”

  The heat of a blush crept across her neck. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. “I don’t know how you manage to do it, but you always sweet talk me out of bad moods.”

  “Temple charm.” He gave her a quick, surreptitious pat on her backside. You’re not immune to it now.”

  That’s an understatement. For both their sakes, she had to figure out some new defenses before the “charm” sucked her into a pit so deep she couldn’t climb out.

  Chapter 23

  Rhys was on the patio grilling steaks when the doorbell rang. Alexi squinted through the peephole. A bear of a man, with reddish-gray hair, leaning on an elegant glass-topped cane, stood on the other side. She withdrew her gun from the hall table drawer, tucked it in the small of her back, then opened the door as wide as the safety chain would allow.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “The name’s Eli McCraigen,” the man said in a thick Scottish accent. “Ye must be Alexi.”

  “Yes,” Alexi replied cautiously.

  “I’ve come tae talk tae yer uncle, Baron.”

  “How do you know Baron?” Her curiosity rose.

  “We’re auld friends.”

  “He never mentioned you to me.” But he never mentioned Sylvia either. How many more “old” friends are going to arrive on the doorstep? And why are they suddenly appearing? Baron’s death seemed to have precipitated a shifter convention. First Sylvia, then that bar full of rogues, and now this man. She didn’t like it, not one bit.

  “Is hisself home?”

  “No.” She wasn’t about to announce to a stranger that Baron was dead—at least not until she had more information about him.

  The man inserted his hand into his jacket pocket. Alexi tensed, her hand moving for the gun tucked in her pants.

  “He sent me this.” Eli extracted an envelope from the jacket and slid it through the opening. “Since he’s nae in, perhaps it’ll do as an introduction.”

  She took the envelope. Baron’s loopy, left-slanted script and his specialty return label proved the letter was from him.

  “Ye can open it, if ye like,” Eli said. “It concerns ye.”

  She took the letter from the envelope and read the page.

  Eli,

  I know it’s been years since you’ve heard from me, not since my brother’s murder, but Alexi’s time has come. I tried to shield her from the destiny, teaching her only the basics of the ring and waiting until she was an adult to start any training. I didn’t want to push her, but now she is developing skills I’ve not taught her. I need someone from the Council to come and assess her, and I can’t think of anyone I trust more than the man I fought beside in so many battles. After making such a mess of Sylvia, I don’t trust my judgment. I need an advocate on the Council and your advice. If you agree with my assessment, I want to present Alexi to the Council this coming Samhain. Please come as soon as possible.

  Your friend,

  Baron Temple

  The letter’s date and postmark indicated Baron had written the letter about two weeks prior to his death. Prickles crept over her arms. My time? Present me to the Council? Sylvia’s comment about the Promised One came back to her. Had Baron sent for Eli because of the great destiny he always insisted she had? She closed the door and rested her forehead against the solid surface. Life was already too complicated. She didn’t need this.

  “Lassie,” Eli called through the door. “It’s important I talk tae Baron and ye. Verra important.” He rapped on the door. “Dinna go yet. Please.”

  Alexi unlatched the chain and waved Eli in. She’d hear him out and let him know Baron was dead.

  Eli swept his gaze over her. “Och, lassie, it’s like lookin’ at yer mither.”

  “You knew her?”

  “Aye. And yer faither and brother. I ken them quite well.”

  Despite her misgivings over the suspected purpose of his visit, she immediately warmed to the big Scotsman. He gave her a big smile that made him appear like a grinning teddy bear. The effect was quite disarming.

  She checked out his aura. Green and gold with a hint of red that matched his hair. Nothing dark about the halo surrounding him. She let her guard down a bit.

  “Twas a shame what happened tae them.” He shook his head and his curly reddish-gray hair tossed about like a breeze blew through the strands. “Lovely people, they were, yer parents.”

  “You must tell me all about them.”

  “Baron dinna tell ye?”

  “My uncle thought the less we spoke about them, the faster the pain of losing them would go away.”

  “Rubbish. One should embrace the memories o’ the dead. He shoulda filled yer head with good memories tae keep them alive.” Eli looked deep into her eyes and clucked sympathetically. “I can tell Baron’s method dinna help ye much. There’s a sadness in yer soul, lassie. A deep sadness.”

  His gaze warmed her, made her want to pour her heart out to him. She closed her eyes before Eli could uncover the rest of her soul. She had managed to hide her inmost feelings from everyone, including Rhys. She certainly didn’t want to let a virtual stranger discover what she had guarded for so many years. Letting someone in that deep was dangerous.

  Much to her relief, Rhys entered from the patio carrying a platter of pork chops, interrupting the intense moment.

  Eli inhaled deeply and then backed toward the door. “Och. I’ve come at a bad time. Yer aboot tae eat. I should come back later . . . when Baron’s home.”

  “Who is this guy?” Rhys scowled at Eli.

  “Relax, Rhys. He’s an old friend of Baron.” She stepped behind Eli and closed the door. “Stay for dinner.”

  “Are ye sure, lassie?”

  “Yeah, are you sure?” Rhys echoed, surprise creasing his brow.

  Alexi nodded. “Rhys, could you set an extra plate while I fill Eli in on Baron?”

  “Are you sure you don’t need me?” His face had a worried expression.

  “No.” Alexi pointed toward the living room. “Let’s sit down, Eli. This is going to be a long story.”

  She filled Eli in on Baron’s murder and warned him not to mention anything about the Turning Stone Society in front of Rhys. “As far as he knows, I’m just a regular gal who happens to be a homicide detective.”

  “Ye and I must talk alone, lassie, for Baron sent for me aboot Society things,” Eli said.

  “I’ll try to get Rhys to leave after dinner, if I can.”

  Eli cocked a bushy, disapproving brow at her. “He dinna live here, does he?”

  “It’s complicated, Eli.”

  “What’s complicated aboot yes or no?”

  “Someone broke in the night Baron was murdered. Rhys claimed squatter rights in order to protect me.�
�

  “And ye canna get him tae leave.”

  “Well . . .”

  Eli nodded knowingly. “Ye dinna want him tae go.”

  He was peering into her soul again. She should have been shocked, or even insulted, at Eli’s straightforwardness. They had just met and he was treating her like he’d known her for years, but, on some level, it felt good. No, more than good. It was like having Baron sitting across from her. How she missed that. She dropped her gaze from Eli and gave a tiny shake of her head. “No. I dinna want him tae go.”

  “One more thing we’ll have tae talk aboot, lassie.”

  She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. But she’d deal with it later.

  Alexi tried to keep the dinner conversation light, but Rhys had insisted on grilling Eli. Who was he? How had he known Baron? Why was he appearing now?

  “Should I just put me arse on the barbeque for ye and be done with it, lad?” Eli asked after enduring interrogation though the salad and main courses. “If I burn, ye’ll ken me to be evil.”

  Alexi nearly choked on her iced tea. She shoved her napkin against her mouth to stop the embarrassing eruption and the laugh bubbling out.

  “That’s enough, Rhys,” she said, when she managed to get control over her throat. “Eli means me no harm. Get off his jugular and apologize.”

  “He dinna have tae do that. He’s only protecting ye. A blind man could see it.”

  “Sometimes she is blind,” Rhys said.

  “Just like love,” Eli said, directing his comment at Rhys.

  “I can see, McCraigen. More than you might believe.”

  “Then, surely, ye can tell I’m here tae protect the lassie, too. When yer uncle and I were just pups,” Eli said to Alexi, “we made a vow tae take care o’ each other’s loved ones, if the need should arise. I’d say, given the circumstances, the need is here.”

  Rhys got to his feet and stared down at Eli. “I can take care of her, old man.”