Death's Ethereal Enemy: Mystery (January Chevalier Supernatural Mysteries Book 4)

by Ruby Loren

  8

  The Unicorn Inn in Blackbridge looked like an average rural pub. It sat, isolated by the side of a country road. Fields surrounded it on all sides and January couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason why Leah had chosen it as a meeting place.

  If it went up in smoke, the damage would be limited.

  January shivered in spite of the warm summer’s evening. She was wrapped in so many homespun concealment charms, she could barely feel the mild temperature. The spells were keeping absolutely everything out.

  Before she’d left, she’d thought about the mental signature Emerson had claimed he could use to find anyone in the world. Thinking about it had allowed her to see it, and for the briefest of moments, she’d seen the world as a web of interconnecting neurones - just like a giant brain. After pondering the options, she'd elected to disguise her signature by modifying it, so that it matched someone else’s.

  Strangely, the person she’d thought it would be easiest to copy would be her sister, Jo. The signature concept reminded her of DNA, and despite their differences, Jo was her closest living relative. January had bitten her lip when she’d thought that thought. She hoped she was still living, but her own investigations into her parents’ murder hadn’t got very far. In fact, they hadn’t even begun.

  She’d refashioned her signature and had opened her eyes again.

  Things had looked different. She’d been different.

  She’d rushed over to the mirror and found… she wasn’t quite sure. Her hair was still white blonde, but every other feature was Jo’s, not hers.

  “Oh, hell. Please tell me this is reversible,” she’d said. The strange reflection had looked just as annoyed as Jo tended to when she’d said it.

  January had abandoned any further attempts to edit her signature and had silently prayed she’d be able to put it all back in place later. With hindsight, she should have risked contacting Leah and asked for a few more conventional tips on how to conceal their location.

  The Unicorn Inn was surprisingly packed, given its rural location. It was with a jolt that January remembered she’d visited this place before… although, it had been called something different then. It was the same rural venue where she and Leah had been approached by Ollie and invited to be pop star, James Phoenix’s, rhythm section. She allowed herself a small smile at the memory. It had been fun being a pop star. Well, until she'd got shot, anyway. James’ career had slumped since the hubbub over the shooting had died down and people had ruled it was a publicity stunt. Having met James, she couldn’t say she was sorry. He had to learn some time that the world didn’t revolve around him.

  She shook the memories from her head and looked around the room for Leah. She found her, sitting at the bar, with a row of empty glasses already lined up in front of her. January was only five minutes late.

  “Hi,” January said into her left ear.

  Had she not got quicker reactions than a cat, Leah would have knocked her unconscious with the flying elbow she sent her way.

  “Get lost,” Leah said, right in her face.

  January politely raised her eyebrows in return. A moment passed between them.

  “It’s me,” January said, in case Leah still hadn’t figured it out.

  “Shut up. I can see that now.” The vampire-witch looked her up and down. “Who are you supposed to be? I don’t like her, whoever she is.”

  January’s expression morphed into a frown. “My sister. I was trying to stop…” She hesitated. “…you know who, from locking on to my mental signature. Or whatever it is that he does.”

  Leah snorted in amusement. “So, you thought becoming a different person was the obvious solution. Nice concealment spells. I’m surprised you’re not fading in and out of existence.”

  “Well, you could have given me a helping hand,” January protested. “How did you cover your tracks?”

  “I’m a vampire. We don’t have the same mental signature thing going on, so it’s a lot harder to trace one of us if you don’t already know where to look.”

  January rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s hardly fair, then!”

  Normally, they’d have continued the back and forth until one of them had grown tired. It was a sign of how dire things were that Leah curtailed the conversation.

  “We need to do something. I can’t take much more of this.” She reached her hands up and pulled at her hair.

  January noticed that it was no longer cropped into a pixie style, but was at that awkward in-between length between short and long. She frowned. “You could just get it cut.”

  “Not my hair, you idiot!” Leah rolled her eyes. “I can’t take much more of them. The whole reason I volunteered to kill you was to get away - no offence.”

  “You’ve been with them since the start?” January asked, wondering if she was finally going to learn more about the origins of The Clan.

  “I became what I am a little after they did. Ever since I went from being the village witch to something more, I’ve been on their leash. Warwick won’t let me go, even though I’ve told him a thousand times that we are done.”

  January raised an eyebrow. “Warwick?”

  “I forgot just how clueless you are about all of this.” Leah made a sound of annoyance. “Okay, let me give you a quick run down. You can say their names by the way, they don’t have a trace on them.” She shook her head at January. “You read way too much fiction. Or watch it. Whatever,” she said, when January opened her mouth to contribute.

  “I’ll give you the brief version. There were five original members of The Clan. Warwick, Emerson, Max, Cadence, and Adelaide. They were all talented witches, ya da ya da… you know about as much about the rest as I do.” She held up a hand. “I know I was made by a similar process, but I didn’t know what was happening, okay? Warwick summoned all the best witches to him, saying he was looking for something. He was just so powerful, I…” She sighed. “They'd already been around for centuries before that, so I don’t know. All I know is that I was their first and best experiment. What you see around you today are mere shadows - poor imitations.” She shrugged. “Maybe whatever spark was needed to retain and amplify power was lost somewhere along the way. Or maybe we were all just special.” She smiled a bitter smile at January. “I think the truth is probably something else entirely, but now’s not the time for theorising. I was giving you the lowdown. Warwick is the leader, and allegedly the one who had the big idea to shoot for immortality in the first place. Max and Cadence make a horrible couple but, nonetheless, they are together. Emerson is Cadence’s brother. Adelaide…” Leah looked troubled. “She used to be Warwick’s partner. I never met her. She died, long before I was even born.”

  January latched on to that piece of information with both hands. “Someone killed her? How?”

  Leah shot her an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “Stunningly, we don't discuss it over dinner every night. I don’t know what happened. Warwick gets funny if you even mention her name. It hardly helps our relationship…” She stopped talking, but January had picked up on what she’d just said.

  “You’re really with Warwick?” She’d never sensed that Leah felt any attachment for anyone.

  “Yes and no. I say no, but he says yes.” She frowned. “We know whose answer trumps whose.”

  “No wonder you wanted to get away.”

  “Don’t pity me. We are here for a counsel of war, not a girly sleepover.” Leah’s eyes danced around the room for a moment, but they soon returned to meet January’s gaze. “I’m working on finding out anything that might help us stand a chance against them. It’s difficult to do it without anyone finding out. Have you come up with anything?” There wasn’t much hope in her voice.

  “I haven’t found anything directly relating to The Clan. They’re doing a pretty good job of keeping all of that stuff locked up. Simon told me,” she said.

  Leah’s eyes glittered with renewed interest.

  “I’m way ahead of you. He promised to send
me anything interesting before they bleach it from his brain.”

  Leah pulled a face. “I’d heard they did something like that. He needs to be careful. If he spends too long there, it will start to erase other things, too. Like his personality.”

  January nearly commented that it might be an improvement, but she wouldn’t have really meant it. Simon could be a complete ass, but he had also helped her and was (probably) almost certainly helping her right now.

  “We all need this to stop,” she said.

  “How’s the enchanter magic?” Leah asked.

  “I managed to do a spell to make Emerson’s spying null and void by making it so I can see him. He wasn’t too happy about that! That’s the best thing I’ve managed recently.” She wasn’t about to tell Leah about the disastrous marshmallow-shield incident.

  “You did a spell for that? Huh,” she said, looking unimpressed.

  January took the bait. “Even though you’re harder to find, he can still spy on you, right? How do you stop him?”

  “He can, but he doesn’t any more,” Leah said, with more than a little smugness. “I have a spirit jar,” she confided.

  January looked blank.

  “It’s a jar I carry everywhere with me that wards against evil spirits. A piece of Emerson is in ethereal form when he turns peeping Tom, and you’d better believe he’s evil. It works like a charm.” She hesitated. “Well, it is a charm. I knew that spell when I was just a lowly village witch! You’ve got the internet! Why didn’t you just look it up?”

  “I got my spell from a book! I just had to make a few changes,” January protested.

  Leah rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “So, you did a spell that meant you can see him… but he can still turn up and watch you whenever he wants.”

  January opened her mouth and shut it again. “But I can see him!” She protested, knowing that Leah had a point.

  “I can just tell how complex that spell was, too. How much other weird stuff have you seen since doing it?” she asked.

  “Actually, I do need to tell you about that…” January filled her in on the girl with the amber eyes she’d met in the woods.

  “You think there’s a second enchanter in the world?” Leah clarified, looking interested for the first time during their conversation.

  “I think so,” January confirmed.

  “You need to do everything you can to find her again. She might be the only one who can change all of this,” Leah said.

  She looked at January, her hands suddenly growing restless on her condensation covered glass. “I have to go. Think outside of the box when you do your research. And find her.” Leah hesitated for a final second, her eyes focusing on the entrance to the inn with far more concern than they had when she’d scanned the room a few moments before. “You’ll be meeting them all soon. Be ready.”

  January was left standing by the bar when Leah got up and disappeared into the kitchen.

  If only she’d left the same way.

  January had only taken two steps along the lane towards where she’d left her car when she heard a familiar voice.

  “What have you done to yourself?”

  She turned around to face Emerson. He was dressed from head to toe in black, which contrasted sharply with his pale blonde hair.

  “I was trying something out,” she said, cagily.

  “You were sneaking around,” he replied, walking to circle her. “It worked, by the way. In case you were wondering.” He cocked his head.

  “You still found me,” January pointed out.

  Emerson smiled. “I did. I’ll admit, it took longer… but I did. And that’s all you’re getting.”

  January shrugged. She was used to vampires keeping their cards close to their chest. “Good talk. I was on my way back home.”

  Emerson was in front of her in a flash. “Nope. I said you were sneaking around, and I want to know why. Surely, popping out for a pub dinner doesn’t warrant an identity change?” He pulled a face at her. “You can change back, can’t you? It’s not that you aren’t beautiful this way, but it’s dulling your power.”

  January silently cursed her sister before wrestling with that unseen thing, that she now suspected had something to do with her very essence.

  “Much better,” Emerson said, once she’d finished.

  “As I said earlier. I was trying something out. After being partially responsible for the death of my last magic tutor, I’m not going to look for another one. I’ve got to learn somehow,” she said.

  “Only partially responsible? I heard that it was all because of you,” Emerson said with narrowed eyes.

  “I’m eaten up with guilt. I swear I’ll never touch magic again.” She drenched her voice in sarcasm.

  “It was worth a try. You were much easier to work with when you weren’t like a small child in a sand box, playing with fireworks.” He tilted his head. “Or in your case, nuclear bombs. But honestly, you’re more interesting this way. I always knew you were destined for more than bounty hunting.” His eyes did that disconcerting thing again, where a little human warmth crept in there.

  January felt the shiver run up her spine. “I’m thrilled to have your approval.” She stepped to the side to walk past him.

  “I’ll teach you.”

  She stopped walking and looked at him. “What?”

  “I’ll teach you magic,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m interested.”

  “And you get to be in control,” she observed.

  He lifted his shoulders a little. “You should be honoured.”

  “I’m suspicious. You said it yourself, I’m going to come after you one day.”

  He took a step closer. “But we can have so much fun before that day comes.”

  January threw him a horrified look.

  “Is it my age?” He teased. “Gregory’s not exactly a spring chicken, you know. Are you really still holding a candle for him? Even after he’s been so… neglectful.”

  January took a step backwards as realisation dawned. “You’ve done something to him.”

  “Only psychologically,” he said, with a smirk.

  January shook her head and looked away.

  “You’ll change your mind,” Emerson said, confidently. “After all, we’ve got all the time in the world. I’m not normally the kind of man who waits, but I’ll give you a chance to think about it before Gregory’s condition tragically worsens.” He pulled a sad face.

  “Are you really this immature?” January spat out, unable to believe what they were discussing.

  “I’ve done everything there is to do in this world. What’s left, but to play games and move my pieces across the board?” He looked down at her lips and then back up to her eyes. “You could be my queen.”

  January resisted the urge to mime sticking her fingers down her throat.

  “I’ll let you know when we have our first magic lesson.”

  “May I go home now?” January said, wondering if her voice was going to get stuck on the sarcastic setting forever.

  Emerson stepped aside for her. She took a couple of steps past him, her hand going into her pocket.

  “Emerson…” She began and threw a penny at him.

  His hands flashed with movement and the penny was slapped to the ground, where it bounced and rolled away.

  January watched it go and then looked up at Emerson.

  “That’s all I wanted to know,” she said and got into her car.

  The very corporeal vampire stayed on the road, watching as she drove away.

  January wondered what he’d had to do to divine her whereabouts. She probably didn’t want to know the answer.

  More concerning was the knowledge that he was always watching her, wherever she went, even when he wasn’t present in any form. Any illusion of freedom she had was exactly that - an illusion.

  She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands on the wheel.

  Every single
Old One had a death sentence hanging over their heads, but Emerson needed to die especially soon.

  9

  “January, I really need to speak to you.”

  January looked up from the cake she’d been baking in the bakery kitchen. She was surprised to see a female shifter, whose scent she recognised from the full moon meets. She couldn’t recall ever seeing her in her human form. January flared her nostrils a little to remind herself what this young woman was. Bear, the answer came back.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop her.” June, a middle-aged hare shifter poked her head around the kitchen door and glared at the other shifter. January watched the young woman’s dark-stained lips curl back in a growl. You could almost sense June’s other form’s long ears flopping down in fright, before she vanished from the doorway, presumably to serve the customers again.

  “What was it you wanted to speak about? Also, I don’t think we’ve met before…” January said.

  “I’m Miri. Short for Miranda,” the young woman said, before ploughing straight into the crux of the matter. “There’s a plot against you.”

  “Oh,” January said.

  Miri watched her for a couple of seconds before she spoke again. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  January stopped whisking the egg whites and leant against the unit. “I have my fair share of enemies.” She shrugged. “Anyway, in any pack, there are always a few who believe the grass is greener on the other side. I’ve been expecting to face a challenger.” Up until very recently, she’d probably have willingly handed the job over to them, too. It was only because someone like Morgan was in the running for leadership that she was holding on, for the greater good of all.

  “They’re not planning to challenge you. They’re trying to kill you,” Miri said.

  January did her very best to look concerned. Not a lot of people knew that she’d genuinely died on stage and had come back to life. Keeping it that way would be to her advantage. “Do you know who it is?” she asked.

  Miri looked uncomfortable. “A few shifters support it. They say you’re letting everything go to hell anyway… you know, with the bar and so on,” she said, a little guiltily.