by Ruby Loren
Jo blinked. “Because I thought you killed our parents, and I was upset I couldn’t come to their funeral because you banned me from being here.”
January sighed. The second part was true, but should she be blamed for her sister’s past mistakes?
“What about that scheming idiot?” She nodded her head towards Morgan, who was looking more freaked out by the second.
“Oh, Luke knew him,” Jo said, and then looked panicked.
Several things slotted into place for January. “How long has he known Morgan for?”
Still stuck to the wall, Morgan started to wriggle even more frantically.
Jo sighed and pulled out a pack of shop-bought biscuits that might have been left behind from the time when Simon had been staying at the house. January never touched prepackaged baking.
“They go way back. He didn’t want anything to do with this… just so you know. Luke isn’t back because he wants to take over the pack again,” Jo said, as if that was supposed to reassure January.
“Then why is he back?” she asked, picking up on that worrisome fact.
Two spots of colour appeared in Jo’s cheeks and she blushed. “We’re…” She hesitated. “It’s complicated.”
January had a thought or two about what ‘complicated’ might mean, and if she was right, it wasn't very complicated at all. She wondered what had happened to Trace (Luke’s previous girlfriend) and silently hoped that the deer shifter had found someone a whole lot nicer than Luke.
She stood up from the sofa and walked over to Morgan, who now tried to press himself into the wall away from her.
“Zombie…” he hissed.
January looked at Jo and saw her sister roll her eyes. Even Jo wasn’t as dumb as this tiger.
“Let me guess… Luke Bingley got in touch with you a while ago, after he was booted out of the shifter pack. He told you to go and make trouble the way you did the last two packs you were a part of.” She frowned. “All that stuff you said about wanting to split packs up… you’re not actually working for the Official Board of Shifters at all, are you?”
She couldn’t believe she’d been so gullible. At the very least, she should have found a way to check with the Board that he’d been sent. She knew that the identity of their reporters was supposed to be kept a secret, but she should have at least made them aware she thought he was working for them. They would have been able to step in and stop all this before it had happened. Now she was looking at another pack member who couldn’t be allowed to remain with the pack, but whose absence would be noticed and blamed on her.
“I’m my own man,” Morgan said, summoning up a wobbly smile.
Surprisingly enough, January didn’t find it terribly intimidating. She thought back to the research Ryan had done into Morgan’s past. He’d definitely worked for the Board in the past, but it wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was just another pack enforcer who’d turned against the organisation. Wasn’t his trail of destruction evidence enough of that? She only wondered why they hadn’t put a stop to it.
“Why hasn’t anyone stopped you?” Sometimes asking was the best way to find out the answer to a question. But only when the person you were asking hadn’t been around for millennia.
Morgan opened his mouth, presumably to quip something else, but shut it again to think. “I don’t know. I guess they don’t care,” was all he said.
January shook her head and stowed it as yet another problem to solve later. She really needed to invest in a decent activity planner, or better yet - hire a PA. She considered it. That might not actually be such a bad idea.
She left Morgan stuck to the wall and turned back to the bigger problem in the room - her sister. “So, what happens now? I’ve already exiled you with the warning that if you ever returned, I’d have to kill you, and look at where you are right now,” she said.
Jo looked down at the ground. “Right… in your house.” She shrugged. “The idea was, I’d kill you first. Which I did,” she pointed out and then frowned. “You still haven’t told me why you aren’t dead.”
January gave her a withering glare. “Hmmm, let’s see… the last time I shared a secret with you, you told every shifter you met, and two of them tried to kill me.”
Jo shrugged. “Fine. Don’t tell me then.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What do you propose we do?” January said. She’d only been up for half an hour, but she already felt like she needed to hit the hay for another twelve hours, or so. Dying definitely took it out of you.
“I guess I’ll go away with Luke, and we’ll find somewhere else to stay out of your way,” Jo said, hopefully.
“Or, I could just get rid of you right now,” January said, at least wanting her sister to take her threat seriously. Hadn’t zapping off her hair been evidence enough of what she was capable of?
Come to think of it, hadn’t coming back from the dead been enough?
“I guess… but you’d be getting rid of your nephew or niece if you did that.” Jo’s hand went to her stomach, and January noticed for the first time that it wasn't as flat as it had once been.
Well, that explained why Luke was still hanging around with her sister. January had spent enough time with the ex-pack leader to know he wasn’t stupid and could even be reasonable at times. Jo was not the perfect match for him.
“Okay, you know what? I don’t think making you run around the world is the solution,” January said. “It hasn’t worked before, so it probably won’t work again.” She took a deep breath. “Mum and dad’s house still needs sorting out. If you and Luke want it, you can have it.” January made eye contact with Jo. “That does not mean you can come to pack meetings, or even set foot in Witchwood Forest. I also want you to stay out of town. Drive somewhere else to do your shopping, or order it online. Find somewhere else to run at the full moon. No one can know that Luke is back here, or I will have to kill you both.” She waited to make sure her sister was really listening to her. “And this time… I wouldn’t even have to try.”
Jo nodded. “I think that could work,” she said, saying something sensible for once. “There’s just one thing…”
January tried not to groan. There always was ‘just one thing’ with Jo.
“You have to help me find who killed our parents. You’re a bounty hunter. Isn’t it like, your job, or something?”
January opened her mouth to sarcastically ask if her sister was going to pay her, but it wouldn’t achieve anything. “When I get a moment, we can talk about it,” she said, trying to be non-comital. Jo might have a strange idea of what a bounty hunter was, but January did actually know a thing or two about crime scenes and clues. Admittedly, she’d usually been the one trying not to leave any clues behind, but it had taught her a fair bit. One thing she did know was that cold cases were a hundred times more difficult to crack than something that was still ongoing.
“Okay, great. Do you mind if I take these?” Jo said, waving the half-empty biscuit packet.
January was surprised she’d even asked, but indicated it was okay.
“I’ve still got my keys, so I’ll let myself in to mum and dad’s place.” Jo shivered. “It’s going to be weird not having them there, but I think it’ll be a good place to raise little Jo Junior.”
January looked at her. “Are you really going to call it that?”
“I haven’t really thought about it,” Jo said, surprising no one. “All I know is that whoever they turn out to be, I’m going to be the best, most supportive mum in the world.”
January nearly fell over with shock.
“Good for you,” she said, pleased that there was some good in her sister after all. She sighed and looked at the woman in front of her, who she’d grown so distant from. All the same, they’d been through a lot together, and January knew that deep down, she still loved her sister.
Even though she’d just murdered her.
Talk about having family issues!
“See you later!” Jo said, shim
mying past January and out of the door.
January watched her go and wondered if she’d just made yet another mistake, or if the burgeoning life inside of Jo was finally making her change her ways and grow up a bit. The axe in January’s face suggested one thing, but the little speech Jo had just given suggested another. Maybe I can put the axe thing down to a misunderstanding, January thought, knowing full well she was a soft touch when it came to her little sister. Jo did seem to have genuinely thought that she’d killed her parents, and she could also see why her sister might have been upset over not going to their funeral. Even January had been upset that she wasn’t there, in spite of everything.
She shook herself and turned to deal with the accomplice to murder, who was still glued to her living room wall.
She knew exactly what to do with Morgan.
Five minutes later, he was swearing he’d never try to tear apart another shifter pack again. January knew his talk was cheap. Morgan may be a tiger, but she’d met mouse shifters with ten times the courage. He would say just about anything when he was scared, and the only way to make sure he actually did what he said was to ensure he stayed scared.
“I’m a bounty hunter, Morgan. The best in the world, actually. I’ve killed vampires who’ve been alive for thousands of years. If I even hear a peep about anything going wrong in a shifter pack, and it sounds like you, I will find you and I will kill you. The only reason I’m not doing it right now is because I am not spilling blood in my pack’s territory. You leave tomorrow. Tell people, if you like, but your revolution is over. No one is going to challenge me,” she said, surprising herself by stepping up and taking ownership of the pack in such a strong way. Morgan was bringing it out in her.
“You’re just another tyrant,” he said.
“You’re only here because the last tyrant tipped you off. Leading a pack is not a democracy, but I’m not a tyrant. I said to you at the start that anyone can leave and anyone can join, but I do draw the line when people try to kill me.”
“Try? We succeeded. Your face was gone.”
January checked her reflection in the living room window and was pleased to note that beneath the grime, everything had returned to the right place.
She gave Morgan a warning look and then melted the invisible marshmallow. He panicked a little when things got warm and then looked disgusted by the sticky residue it left behind. “Some witch you are,” he said.
January gave him an unimpressed look in return. “Just remember, if you’d tried this when Luke was in control, your brain would be leaking out of your ears right now. I’m the good guy.”
Morgan laughed, but it sounded more like a tickley cough. “You can tell yourself that as much as you like, but it doesn’t make it true.”
January raised her eyes to the heavens. Having a tiger whine at her because she wasn’t dead seemed like a minor problem when you compared it to last night’s dragon slaying and world jumping. “Get out. If I see you again, you’re dead,” she said, well-aware how familiar that phrase now felt.
“You were dead. How are you not dead now?” Morgan said when January had practically pushed him out of the house and he was on the gravel where she’d lain.
She gave him another withering look. “Magic,” she said and slammed the door in his face.
13
January felt better when she woke up the next morning. She’d taken a shower to remove all of the remnants of the axe attack, after she’d finally got rid of Jo and Morgan, and had slept really well. Not that she was going to start recommending death in order to get a good night’s sleep. She’d still needed a couple of aspirin to help with the headache.
This morning, all she needed was a coffee, and she’d be ready to roll. She hadn’t managed to call Danny to let him know she was back, and she thought he could manage another day running the bakery with Lucy. He’d messaged her the previous day letting her know that everything was running smoothly, and January trusted him. It was nice to be able to trust someone occasionally.
She was just about to sit down and write out everything that she needed to do - with items like ‘find out if Gregory’s okay/alive’ right at the top of the list - when the magical writing appeared.
I have an unexpected day off and I think I’ve got some information. Meet me in ten?
The writing faded, but a second later, more words appeared.
Don’t write back.
She frowned. Surely her magical writing wasn’t that bad?
January looked down at the notebook she’d been poised to solve every problem in the universe in and knew it would have to wait until later.
“What’s the information?” January asked when Simon answered the door.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?” Simon said with a frown.
“Sorry,” January said, regretting being so hasty. “I haven't spoken to many people who are my friends, recently.”
“Well, if that’s the way you talk to them, then no wonder,” Simon said, flouncing into the house.
January pulled a face behind his back. “I know I’m a bit cagey. My sister killed me yesterday.”
Simon looked at her. “Are you sure? Only, you’re still… oh yeah… enchanter… right,” he said. “It’s the second time you’ve died, isn’t it?”
January tilted her head, inquiringly, she hadn’t told anyone apart from Leah, who’d witnessed it. She assumed the Old Ones had got the truth out of her about what had happened. That, or they actually already knew a thing or two about what it was to be an enchanter.
After all, January knew for a fact that she wasn’t the only one in existence.
“As if you’d ever willingly take part in a publicity stunt. You hate any opportunity to seek attention. It’s so boring,” Simon said, shaking his head.
It was with a sudden pang that January remembered him talking about his ambition to be an investigative journalist. That dream was off the table right now, much like her dream of not having to worry about ancient first vampires.
“I’m struggling with trauma of my own,” Simon said, touching a hand to his forehead.
“Oh?” January enquired, her mind jumping to a whole host of awful things that might have befallen Simon since their last meeting.
“Someone broke into this house while I was gone. There was broken glass and everything.”
“Did they take anything?” January asked, hoping she looked suitably shocked.
Simon shrugged. “Who can say? This place looks like an army came through here. There was a book left out in the living room. I think it was about fortune telling, or some rubbish like that.” He shrugged again. “I don’t even think I want to know.”
“What about Jinx? Is he okay?” she asked, eager to change the subject.
“I know that I don’t care, but I assume he’s still alive because nothing bad has happened to me.” He caught January looking at him. “Don’t worry, I set things up so he’d still get fed in the cupboard. It’s not the nicest surroundings, I know, but he had the run of the house and he abused that privilege. I’m just teaching him to appreciate what he has, or it gets taken away.”
January wondered how many times in the history of parenting that concept had actually worked, and not ended with the person dealing out the punishment regretting it far more than the person they were punishing.
She was willing to bet it was a very small number.
Not convinced by Simon’s laid back approach to Jinx, she walked down the hall to the cupboard under the stairs. Once there, she pressed her ear against the door.
“What’s he doing in there? I don’t hear anything,” January said. “It’s all gone quiet.”
Simon shrugged. “Quiet is good.”
She shook her head at him, knowing she was speaking for parents everywhere when she said: “No Simon, quiet is not good.”
She looked at the innocuous gloss-painted wood of the cupboard door. Then she looked at the multitude of spells Simon had laid on it.
�
��See? He’s still in there. The spells are fine,” Simon said.
“I still think you should open the door and check.”
Simon shrugged. “I’ll do it later. I need to tell you some stuff that happened.”
January bit her lip and threw one final, anxious look at the cupboard door, before relenting and following Simon back into the living room. What harm could one little rabbit really do? He’d already given killing them his best shot.
“So… tell me,” January said, feeling like she was asking for the latest office gossip.
“Yesterday, we were all slaving away, as usual, when this big scary guy comes in. He had long wavy hair and a beard. He looked like he was a viking, or something. We have an overseer, who’s just the same as one of us, but has been there longest without going loopy, I suppose.” Simon tilted his head from side to side. “Although, that remains up for debate, and this might have pushed him over the edge. I realised right away that this guy was one of them. You could practically smell the power coming off him. It was also pretty easy to see that he was furious. He lifted the overseer up with one hand and demanded to see the book containing anything and everything that had ever been found out about enchanters.” Simon's eyes glittered with mischief. “Somewhere in that research centre is everything that they know about what you are.”
January looked at Simon. “You’ve got to get that book.”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ve got to get that book? I’m the one who found out it existed! That’s my half of the job done.”
January glared at him. “How am I supposed to get anywhere near it? I can hardly just walk in there.”
“Magic!” Simon said, waggling his fingers around in the air.
January tutted. “I’d never have thought of that. If you’ve got any actual helpful suggestions, let me know,” she said.
Her eyes drifted around the living room. It felt a little bleak now that Tor no longer resided here. Even the cactus she’d once made into a fighting machine had shrivelled up. It was sad when a house was left to decay.