“How did she die?”
“I don’t know, the M.E. said she could find no visible wounds on her, no evidence of trauma. I should know more in a few hours once she’s finished with the exam.”
“Where did she die?”
“Her apartment. In the center of a crystal circle.”
“Take me there.” Aoife reaches down and retrieves the mugs.
“It’s an active crime scene,” I tell her. “I can’t just go walking in with a fae and a vampire.”
“I assure you; they will not make me as fae.” She sets the mugs on the wooden countertop in her kitchen. “Nor Elijah as a vampire.”
“Either way, I have a hard enough time keeping my cover intact. If I go waltzing onto a crime scene with non-police, people are going to get suspicious.”
She levels me with an emerald gaze brimming with power. “I need to see where she died. There will be magic left behind. Magic I can sense and determine if the cards have begun to fall.”
“What are you talking about?”
Power simmers around her, transforming her into the red-haired woman I met on the porch. Then, she holds my gaze as her eyes flash from green to gold then back to green. “The destruction of the world as we know it, Rainey Astor, begins with dead witches.”
5
Rainey
You know, I realize that my life has taken one hell of a crazy detour over the last few weeks. I’ve nearly died multiple times, was rescued by a sexy-as-fuck vampire, discovered an old-ass box with who knows what kind of magic inside, discovered a murder plot that I don’t even begin to understand, and had sex with the aforementioned vampire—multiple times—and have zero intention of stopping.
But, even with all of that, if you would have told me I would be walking into a crime scene with a fae who also happens to be my current lover’s ex-fiancée…well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have gone well.
And yet, here I am.
Aoife is to the left of me, wearing the blue pencil skirt and white blouse I first saw her in, and Elijah is to the right of me and has been silent most of the way over here. Granted, the three of us drove separately, so he could have been screaming at the top of his lungs in his car, and I never would have known.
Hell, I would have been if I weren’t worried about bugs in my teeth.
The door is blocked off with yellow caution tape, but I pull it down, breaking the seal of the crime scene and pushing my way inside.
It looks just like it did before with the addition of fingerprint dust on some of the surfaces.
“I can feel it,” Aoife whispers as she moves further into the apartment. Elijah stays beside me, watching with both hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks.
I reach up and touch his arm, trying to bring him some peace, and he smiles down at me, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“She didn’t die in here,” Aoife says.
“No,” I confirm. “The bedroom.”
With a nod, the fae turns down the hall and walks toward the bedroom where Beatrice was discovered. Elijah and I follow.
They removed the crystals, taking them to the precinct for examination, so if you hadn’t known someone died in here, you wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong. But even as the victim’s body is not in here anymore—I can still see her lying face-up on the floor.
Black soulless eyes staring up into mine.
I can still hear her scream.
Aoife kneels on the carpet where the body was discovered and presses her hands to the floor. She closes her eyes and begins to hum as power surges through the room. Elijah grips my hand and pulls me back so we stand just beside the door, watching as Aoife does whatever the fuck it is she’s doing.
Glass rattles on the victim’s dresser, the perfume bottles shaking like there’s a damn earthquake.
“What is she doing?” I ask Elijah.
“I don’t know.”
As soon as he says the words, whatever was going on stops, and Aoife stands, staring back at me with bright golden eyes that steadily fade to green. “She was murdered.”
“I figured as much, crystal circle and all,” I add. “I don’t suppose you have a name? Location of who killed her?”
Sadly, she shakes her head. “It was dark, Rainey. And Beatrice suffered greatly as she died. Whoever did it stole the magic from her soul. Ripped it away, and without it, she could not survive.”
“Someone stole her magic?”
Aoife nods. “I can still feel the lingering of the evil, though Beatrice’s power is gone. That can only mean someone stole it. Even after a witch dies, her power remains behind. It lingers around the body—in the bones. Hers should still be here.” She turns in a slow circle as if looking for the magic signature she just described. “Instead, it is gone, Rainey. And that is quite troublesome.”
“You said it all starts with dead witches,” Elijah says. “Is this what you were referring to?”
She nods. “And if my visions are to be interpreted plainly, there will be many, many more before the end.”
“Why?”
“Because the one who will bring the chaos needs the power to fuel her own. If she gets enough, she will be unstoppable.”
With one last glance back at the floor where Beatrice was discovered, Aoife disappears, leaving Elijah and me standing alone at the scene of a murder I can’t even begin to explain.
Another day of zero progress on these cases. Well, perceived progress anyway. Aoife’s revelation was a pretty fucking massive one. But since it was supernatural, I get to act like I have my head stuck in the sand. Ramirez is taking it pretty hard too since, lately, we’ve been hit with more supernaturals than human, and he’s considering it a personal hit.
The entire thing is just really fucking unfortunate since I know more than I’m allowed to say.
It makes me look like a shit cop, and that hurts my pride. But what’s more bothersome is that I can’t even bring justice in my own way. Can’t remove the head of something if you don’t know who—or what—the fuck it is in the first place.
As I step out into the night air, I pull out my phone and call Elijah.
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” We haven’t spoken since parting at the crime scene. I knew he needed his space, so instead of following him back home, I headed back to work where I was told Beatrice Smith died of old age.
Which, on paper, makes no sense given that she was only twenty-seven. I am the only one who could see just how much sense it made since witches are kept young by their power. Without hers—Beatrice’s internal organs gave out.
“Rainey?”
“Sorry, I—what are you doing?”
“Reading.” Something shuffles over the receiver, papers moving about. “Are you coming home?”
Home. How crazy is it that home is exactly what Elijah feels like to me? “I was actually going to go get a workout in. You interested?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll text you the address.” Ending the call, I send him the location of the gym and then climb on my bike. There’s a chill in the air, proof of the coming fall season. With Halloween in less than a week, that chill will soon morph into winter. It used to be my favorite time of year, but ever since Delaney died, things have been different.
My bike comes to life beneath me, and I pull out of the spot, making my way down the street toward a place I haven’t been in two years. I’m not exactly sure what motivated me to want to come here tonight. Could be that I want to share something of Delaney’s with Elijah—they were friends.
Or maybe it’s because after everything I’ve faced recently, I want to feel closer even if it won’t be the same. Honestly, it probably has more to do with the fact that I want to share something with Elijah to hopefully soothe some of the betrayal left behind when he saw Aoife again.
My headlights shine on the white siding of the gym Delaney built with money from our inheritance. It’s where she trained me after our parents died,
where I learned how to fight—how to survive.
I turn and remove the key from my ignition, then climb off my bike. After reaching into my pocket for the key, I take a deep breath and unlock the door.
Since it has no windows, there’s no moonlight shining in, making the room pitch black. I flip on the switch and move inside as light illuminates the space.
Blue mats are coated in a thin layer of dust, but they’re still in the exact same spot they were the last time I was here. Weights line one wall, and two heavy bags hang from the other. Two treadmills sit near the door, a water cooler that—to my surprise—still has water in it between them.
I can almost see her here, guiding me with a steady hand as I learn how to defend myself against monsters that should have only existed in bedtime stories.
And now, I’m sleeping with one.
“Oh, Delaney, how things have changed.”
Crossing the room, I reach the final wall and stare into the smiling faces of my parents, Delaney, and me outside my grandmother’s house in Salem. I was ten here, my whole life in front of me with no way of knowing that in twenty-seven years, I would be the only one still alive.
Grief wells in my chest, a stone weighing me down, as I reach up and press my palm to the glass. Here’s hoping it still works.
With a creak, the panel slides away, revealing an inset filled with various weapons. Silver blades that haven’t seen light in years glint beneath the fluorescents of the gym. The bo staffs Delaney used to kick my ass with are clipped above the blades, something she’d done with purpose.
“We will work our way down the wall.”
“You want me to fight you with a stick? Come on, Del, I can use a sword.”
“You can use a dagger,” she clarifies. “But until you can fight with a bo staff, you have no business picking up a blade as your main weapon.”
“That makes no sense. The blades are obviously more dangerous. Why would I choose wood over silver?”
Delaney quirks an eyebrow and grins. “You think you know it all? Sixteen-year-old Rainey Astor doesn’t need to listen to what I have to say. That about right?”
“No, I just—it doesn’t make logical sense.”
“I tell you what.” She reaches up and unhooks a silver short blade and hands it to me before grabbing a staff for herself. “Let’s see which is the better weapon.”
Grinning, I flip the blade in my hand like she taught me to do with the blunt edge practice weapons. “Bring it.”
She majorly kicked my ass that day. Left me in a pile of my own sweat, some blood, and even a few tears. Needless to say, after that ass-whooping, I made it a point to learn how to use the staff. And wouldn’t you know—our first hunt ended with me losing the grip on my short blade and having to resort to using an old piece of rebar instead.
“This is brilliant,” Elijah says.
I turn, surprised to see him in the doorway. I hadn’t even heard him come in. “It was Delaney’s place. We lived in the apartment in the back. It was where she taught me how to fight.”
He’s pulled his hair up on the top of his head and changed from his earlier slacks into grey sweats and an aged AC/DC T-shirt. “Looks like it’s been a while since anyone’s been here.”
I nod. “That’s because it has. I never even cleaned out her apartment. Coming here—it was just too hard. I’ve only been back once.”
He moves through the room, coming to stop beside me. “Impressive arsenal.”
“Delaney always had the best of the best.” I reach forward and grab a twelve-inch silver blade with a ruby-encrusted handle. “This was her personal favorite.”
I offer it to him, and he takes it, running his fingers over the hilt. “I remember her using this. It’s actually what she had when we first met.”
He hands it back. “It was on her when she died,” I tell him. “I brought it back and sealed the place. Haven’t been here since.”
“She was one hell of a fighter—your sister.”
I smile back at him, grateful that he still refers to Delaney as my sister. It’s what I always knew her as, and even though I recently discovered we were actually cousins, it’s what she will always and forever be to me. We were sisters—closer than.
And even though she kept plenty of secrets from me, no one will ever convince me otherwise.
I replace the blade and turn toward him. “How are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Elijah.”
He sighs and reaches up to rub a hand over the back of his neck. “I wish I could say it rolled right off of me. That I’m not hurt by it—but to be honest, I’m pissed the fuck off.”
“I can understand that.” I swallow hard. “Now that she’s back, are you—” I trail off, unable to say the words out loud. To give him the option of walking away from me and back to her.
Elijah crosses the distance between us and cups my face in his palm. “Don’t think for one second that I would ever wish my life to be different. I am yours, Rainey Astor. One thousand percent, and never in a million years would I walk away from you. From what we have. Aoife changes nothing. Except now, the guilt I carried after her death has lessened upon my shoulders.” His thumb caresses my cheek, and he lowers his forehead to mine in a tender gesture that warms my heart despite the chill in my bones ever since Aoife’s warning. “You are my future if you’ll still have me.”
In demonstration, I tilt my head and kiss him deeply. He is mine, and I am his. While I’m not quite ready to voice the words out loud, I know my truth. And hearing it from him pushes everything else aside.
“If you want me to kick her ass, I can.”
He smiles against my mouth. “Maybe later.” He pulls away.
“Do you think she’s telling the truth? About what’s coming?”
Elijah reaches into the pocket of his sweats as he nods. “Unfortunately, it’s not the first time I’ve been warned of a threat today.” He holds out his hand, holding a vial of clear liquid in his palm.
“What is that?”
“A potion that will keep you hidden from any supernatural trackers while we figure out who the hell is trying to kill you.”
“Don’t you need one too? It’s not just me they’re after.”
“I’ve already taken one.”
I glare at him. “You took one so you could make sure it wasn’t poison.”
He shrugs, not even bothering to hide his motives behind a smooth lie. “I trusted the witch not to harm me but not you.”
“Stop putting yourself at risk, Elijah. Or I will start doing the same.”
His eyes flash as he clenches his teeth together. But, he nods. “Agreed.”
After uncorking the vial, I tip it up and drink down something that tastes a hell of a lot like lavender water spiked with vodka. A terrible combination—might I add. “That was something.” I cough and toss the vial into the trash beside the water cooler.
“It’s effective.”
“Where did you get it?”
“A witch who runs a supernatural sex club.”
“I’m sorry, a what? You went to a sex club today?” There’s no heat in my words, no jealousy because I know I have nothing to worry about. It’s just pure shock at the thought of the man before me walking into a sex club. And honestly, I’m kind of pissed he didn’t take me too.
“I’ve known Farah for quite some time and hoped she’d know something about the Lunar Divide.”
I cross my arms. “I take it she did?”
He nods. “She spoke with Delaney about it as well.”
“What did she tell her?”
“What we already know—that The Divide is why those witches born on Halloween during a full moon are being hunted. But she did tell me that it’s not the Immortal Council running it but rather a trio of supernaturals overseeing everything. Puppet masters pulling the strings for everything that’s happening right now.”
“Dammit. If we don’t know who they are—”
“Then we have no way of stopping them unless we climb from the bottom.”
Arching an eyebrow, I study him. “You want to kill the council members.”
“I do. And I plan to. You interested?”
“Absolutely.”
He nods then studies the room again. “So we’re here for a workout?”
“We are.” I shrug out of my jacket and holster, setting them on a leather couch to the side. Then, I stretch up and retrieve the two bo staffs, offering him one and gripping my own. It feels familiar in my palm, the weight and feel of the smooth wood. “I need to practice. If we’ve got one hell of a fight coming our way, I’d like to get some work in on my form.”
He grins wickedly. “I would be honored to be your partner.”
“I’m sure you would. Ready to have your ass kicked?”
He spins the staff in his palm, showcasing just how comfortable he is with the weapon. “You know, I’ve spent decades mastering nearly every weapon out there. I assure you it won’t be me getting my ass kicked.”
“Then come on, old man. And you damn well better not go easy on me.” Holding the staff right in the center, I take a few steps back and take the stance that is now as familiar to me as the back of my hand.
He does the same, though his stance is slightly different from mine. “I’ll never go easy on you, Rainey. I know you like it rough.” He winks, and warmth spreads throughout my belly.
I charge, dropping to my free hand at the last second and swiping my staff out in a futile attempt to sweep him off his feet. Elijah jumps at just the right time, and my weapon slashes beneath him as he drops forward and rolls back to his feet.
Spinning, our staffs meet, the jarring of the clash reverberating through my forearms. He brings his down, blocking my lower strike, then ducks as I swing over his head. I drop the staff and spin, slamming my foot into his chest.
He stumbles back but manages to keep his balance, grinning at me like a madman. I return the gesture momentarily before retrieving my staff and taking my stance again.
He attacks this time, and I brace for impact. Right before he’s about to strike though, he disappears. “What the shit, Elijah?” I spin, searching the room for him.
Blood Captive: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (Vampire Huntress Chronicles Book 2) Page 5