Witches Can't Fly (Otherworld Crime Unit Book 3)

by Nova Archer

  Finishing slathering the oil on, Theron leaned away from Lyra. He used a white cotton towel to wipe the ointment from his hands. “I suggest you close your eyes, Lyra. Your thoughts are easily read.”

  As if waking from a trance, Lyra shook her head and noticed Theron was staring at her, his eyes dark, his lips parted. Restrained desire tightened his jaw.

  “I thought you wanted to, you know, have me.”

  His nostrils flared. “I do, but now is not the time.” He stood and marched into the bedroom.

  Exasperated, she let out an angry sigh. “Oh and after nearly getting buried under tons of cement was a good time?”

  He strode back into the room carrying an unopened bottle of water. After unscrewing the cap, he handed it to her and sat on the chair opposite her. “No, it wasn’t, and I apologize.”

  Refusing to take a sip, she set the bottle on the glass coffee table. “It’s because of what I told you, isn’t it?”

  “It is more than that.”

  “I thought doing a virgin is a big deal for men like you. You know the whole deflowering thing.” Frustration and shame fueled her words.

  “What do you mean, men like me?”

  She could plainly hear the anger in his voice. She didn’t care. Maybe if they fought, maybe if she made him angry enough, she’d stop the yearning in her heart and body. The constant battle between desire and logic was draining her. She was tired of battling it. To keep her mind in tact, one half had to be victorious. At this point she didn’t really care which one.

  “It’s no secret you’ve slept with a lot of women. Having a virgin I thought would be, you know, cool.”

  “For such an intelligent woman, you can be extremely dumb sometimes.”

  “You’re calling me dumb?”

  He nodded. “You claim to be a good crime scene investigator, yet you’ve convicted me without any evidence.” He arched his brow and leaned back in the chair, portraying an air of ambivalence, but Lyra could see him seething at the edges. She had hurt him with her cavalier assessment of his character. “You know little to nothing about me to make such judgments. I’ve never disrespected you, Lyra. I’d appreciate it if you afforded me the same courtesy.”

  Embarrassment crept over her. She had unfairly judged him. She had spent enough time with him to know he was layered with contradictions. He seemed haughty since arriving in Necropolis but the day at the crime scene she’d seen sorrow and anguish on his face when he had to touch the victim. It was obvious he had a conscience and sense of remorse.

  Also, he’d saved her twice from being hurt. The last time he had saved her life. Would an ambivalent man with an uncaring heart have done that? Would he have treated her with such care and concern by healing her shoulder?

  She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face and through her hair which she just now realized was a mess. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Theron. I’ve treated you with nothing but disdain from the beginning.” She shook her head at her own prejudices. How many times had she lectured Jace about his prejudices toward humans and here she was coming to the same conclusions about Theron. “I don’t feel that way about you. I think that, um, you’re a good man.”

  He stared at her, silent, brooding, for what felt like an eternity. She fidgeted in her seat, nervous under his scrutiny. Finally, he spoke, “I accept your apology, Lyra.” He gestured toward the bottle of water on the table. “Now drink. It’s healing water. It will help with your shoulder.”

  Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Lyra picked up the cold bottle of water and took a sip. The icy liquid soothed her parched throat and she drank more.

  As she set the bottle back down, something on the label caught her eye. Something written in dark purple calligraphy. She held it up to her face and read it over. And then again.

  “Where did you get this?” She turned the bottle around so he could see the label.

  “I asked the front desk this morning to bring me some. I always like to have it around, just in case. Why is it not good? Did they bring me plain bottled water?”

  “No, it’s healing water all right. But it’s from New Destiny.”

  He arched a brow. “Is that not a good place?”

  “I should’ve made the connection.” She tapped herself in the forehead with her thumb.

  “What’s the connection?”

  “I found a folded piece of paper in the victim’s spa uniform. It said ND-7:30. I thought it was someone’s initials, but maybe it’s a place.” She held up the bottle. “New Destiny. ND. It’s a magic shop. Not one I go to as it caters to those swimming in the gray areas of magic use.”

  Theron’s lips twitched into a grin. “Not so dumb after all.”

  She returned his smile. It felt good to share this with him. She wondered what other things they could share. If only he wasn’t leaving. “I have my moments.”

  “Oui, you most certainly do.”

  She stood. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll drive.”

  “First we eat, then we will go.”

  “Theron, we don’t have time—,”

  He stood seconds before there was a knock at the door. “Make time, Lyra. You can barely function.” He walked to the door, opened it to let the porter wheel in the room service tray. The delectable smells made Lyra nearly swoon in hunger. Once the porter left, Theron lifted the lid on the food platter. “Eat. Then we will follow this lead.”

  Inspecting the variety of food on the tray, Lyra said, “We?”

  Theron smiled and plucked a piece of fruit from one of the platters. “Someone once told me I was handy to have around. I’m with you on this, petite sorcière, to the end.”

  She took half a cucumber sandwich and bit into it. She was pleased he wanted to stick with her through this. She’d never really had a partner of sorts. On some cases Jace and her would work together, but most of the time she worked solo. She preferred it that way. Until now. His presence alone made her feel safe and secure.

  How would she feel when he finally had to leave?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  New Destiny was downtown on the corner of Digger and Third Avenue, a few blocks away from a vampire blood bar called the Red Express. The magic shop catered to those teetering on the edge of the black. It was illegal to practice the dark arts but Lyra knew there were witches who did it anyway.

  She’d been on a few cases where people had been murdered by nefarious spells. Sometimes premeditated, sometimes not. Witches ended up killing by accident because of their ignorance of the evil intent of black magic. Ignorance was no excuse.

  Coils of patchouli-scented smoke greeted Lyra the moment she pushed open the front door. In some circles, patchouli was known as Graveyard Dust and was supposedly used in demon summonings. But Lyra knew of regular people who used the incense to cover other smells, like cannabis. When she went to college, her roommate had used it often. Ever since, Lyra had hated the odor. It gave her a headache.

  The bells hanging from the ceiling chimed as Theron, then Tala, followed through the door, letting it shut behind them. They both wrinkled their noses at the pungent odor.

  “I hate this smell,” he said as he trailed behind her through the dimly lit shop.

  “Me too.” Tala wiped her nose, most likely trying to remove the offending smell from her powerful lycan olfactory cells.

  Before Lyra and Theron had left the hotel, Lyra had called Caine to tell him what she found and where she was going and to send an officer to make it all aboveboard. Mahina had been occupied by tracking Kellen down, so the chief sent Tala. Lyra didn’t mind. She liked the half-lycan and she was proving to be a really good cop in Necropolis.

  As Lyra moved through the store she took in the surroundings. The store was like most other magic shops—even her gran’s shop. Shelves of candles, crystals, and essential oils lined the walls. The more valuable items like athames, chalices and mirrors were near the front counter in glass display cases. Robes and capes hung on hangers in the co
rner near a full-length mirror on the wall. Some witches prided themselves on looking stylish while practicing their craft.

  Lyra couldn’t have cared less. She brewed most of her spells at home in a pair of cotton shorts and a ratty old t-shirt. Easier to clean up if a spell went bad and exploded all over the kitchen. The one and only time she’d worn a ceremonial robe was to her gran’s wake.

  Eleanore’s essence surrounded Lyra as it often did when she was thinking about her. Her jasmine scent perfumed the air. Lyra inhaled deeply, drawing strength from her gran’s presence. But something was off. Lyra could sense Eleanore was agitated and unnerved.

  Lyra stopped walking and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Nothing, darling.

  “Gran, I can tell when you’re upset.”

  Theron came up beside her. “What did you say?”

  Lyra glanced around the store looking for something amiss or out of place. Was there danger here?

  Theron touched her shoulder, concern furrowing his brow.

  She smiled at him and continued toward the main counter. “Everything’s fine.”

  When they neared the long wooden counter at the back of the store, a woman appeared from behind the beaded curtain. She looked like a stereotypical witch with long black hair, streaked by gray, and wearing a long, flowing, flowery dress and sandals. The one main difference about this witch was that she had some physic ability. Lyra could see it glow around her like a halo. Gwen had the same type of shine.

  She smiled brightly as they approached. “Good evening. What can I do for the NPD?”

  Tala glanced down at herself and her jeans and t-shirt. “Is it that obvious?”

  The woman chuckled. “Yes. Your aura is practically exploding with browns and blues. Authoritative colors.”

  “I’m Officer Jericho.” Tala flipped open her wallet to show her badge. “This is Lyra Magice from the crime lab and Theron LeNoir. Could we have your name?”

  “Claire Mitchell.” She sat on a stool behind the counter and picked up a large piece of quartz, juggling it between hands.

  “Are you the owner of New Destiny?”

  “Yes.”

  Lyra stepped forward with a picture of the deceased. “We have some questions about a woman named Lori James. Did you know her?”

  Claire glanced down at the photo then smiled at Lyra. “I knew of your grandmother.”

  “I’m sorry?” Lyra flinched.

  “Eleanore Sowards from Las Vegas. She had a shop called Wind in the Willows.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Lyra’s hands began to shake. Dread washed over her like a wave of dark water. “Did you know her well? I think I would’ve remembered you from the wake.”

  “No, I didn’t know her personally.” Claire smiled again, then set the quartz down on top of the picture of Lori James. “You look just like her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Lori.” She tapped the edge of the photo on the counter with her index finger. “You could be her twin.”

  It felt like the world was tipping and Lyra had to brace herself on the counter. A rush of dizziness spread over her. She had to blink back the black spots in her eyes; she feared she’d get sick.

  Feeling a solid presence next to her, Lyra glanced sideways and met Theron’s gaze. He touched her arm, holding her lightly but solidly on the elbow, keeping her from buckling at the knees. Tala had also moved along side her. The lycan’s heat register had gone up a few degrees. It was obvious that her temper was rising at the woman’s evasiveness.

  “Did you know Lori James or not?”

  Claire nodded. “Yes, I know her. She comes here to shop.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Three days ago maybe.”

  “Daytime, evening?”

  “She always comes in during the evening, right before I close at eight.” Claire regarded Tala then Lyra. “She’s dead isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Lyra answered, still unable to shake off the heebie-jeebies that were coursing over her. But she had a job to do. Questions about her grandmother would have to wait. “The last time you saw her, was she with anyone, or did she talk to anyone in your shop?”

  “She was alone and, if I remember correctly, there was no one else in the store.”

  Disappointment curled in Lyra’s gut. She had hoped this would have led them somewhere, to another clue. It did establish a timeline which was helpful, but as usual she wanted the one thing that would crack the case. She desperately wanted to solve this one. Maybe then, she could erase the thoughts of her own death from her mind.

  “Can you remember what she bought? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “She bought some candles and oil. Rose oil I believe.” Claire’s brow wrinkled. “Now that you mention it, she did buy some vervain leaves and a smudge stick.”

  “Was she moving I wonder? Smudge sticks are used to cleanse new places.”

  Tala flipped open her phone. “I’ll call Mahina. She was at the vic’s apartment. Maybe there were boxes packed up.” She stepped away to make the call.

  “Vervain leaves are used to ward off unwanted attention, aren’t they?” Lyra mused. “A witch could make a charm to say stop her ex-boyfriend from calling her or coming to see her, couldn’t she?”

  Claire nodded.

  “Vervain is also used in protection spells,” Theron added.

  Lyra eyed him. “Protection from what?”

  “Demons.”

  Claire snorted. “You don’t honestly think that Lori was involved in the black.”

  “What do you know about the dark arts?” Lyra asked her, sure that the woman was not as innocent as she seemed. There was something about her that read wrong.

  “Enough to know that when you play with the devil you’re going to get burned.” Her gaze swung to Theron and she grinned. Lyra noticed her front tooth was chipped. “Isn’t that right, Monsieur LeNoir?”

  Theron bristled at the comment, his eyes darkening in anger. “Do you know me, madam?”

  “No, but I can see you quite clearly.”

  Tala returned to the counter before Lyra could comment. Something had transpired between Theron and Claire, something she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

  “Mahina said there was no indication that the vic was moving. No evidence of a boyfriend at the apartment either.” Tala looked from Lyra to Claire then to Theron. “What’s going on?”

  Theron shook his head. “Nothing of consequence.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us, Ms. Mitchell about Lori’s last visit to your shop?” Tala asked.

  “No, I’m sorry. Nothing comes to mind. She bought her things then left, getting into her car out front.”

  Lyra frowned. According to the vic’s records, she didn’t own a vehicle. “What kind of car?”

  Claire looked past them toward the big bay window facing the street. “A dark colored sedan of some sort.” She shook her head. “I don’t know cars, so I couldn’t tell what make it was. But it definitely had four doors and was a dark color.”

  “Do you recall if she opened the driver’s side door or the passenger side?”

  Lyra glanced behind her at the street through the window. All the cars parked along this side of the street were pointing east; therefore, if Claire actually saw Lori get into the car, she saw her get into the passenger side.

  “Passenger side.”

  Tala nodded as she wrote all the info down in her notebook. “That’s good. Thank you, Ms. Mitchell, you’ve been very helpful.”

  Claire smiled at Tala. “I’m glad I could help.” Then her gaze moved to Lyra. “I must talk to you before you go.”

  “I’m listening,” Lyra responded, that sense of dread surging over her again.

  “Alone, my dear. The things I must tell you are for your ears only.”

  Theron squeezed her arm. “We should go back to the lab. There’s a lot of work still to be done.”

  Theron must’ve shared
her sense of dread, as his hands shook slightly and were slick with sweat. There was definitely something about the woman that didn’t resonate well with any of them. Tala also looked weary.

  But Lyra wanted to know what this woman had to say. Physics were a strange bunch but they could more times than not tune into something that ordinary people couldn’t see or hear.

  Lyra nodded and Claire led her to the back room behind the beaded curtain.

  A small table and two chairs were arranged in the corner. The smell of patchouli was strongest back here. This was where Claire must’ve done readings, as it was obvious the woman had some ability. Lyra sensed it the moment they walked into the shop.

  Claire sat in one of the chairs and gestured for Lyra to sit in the other. Once Lyra sat, Claire set her hands on top of the table, palms up. It was an unspoken invitation for Lyra to give Claire her hands to read.

  She didn’t want this woman to touch her, but she needed to hear what Claire had to say. Although Lyra knew deep down inside in the place that held her magical ability, she wasn’t going to like what she heard.

  Claire held Lyra’s hands lightly, her fingers barely curling over, and stared into Lyra’s eyes. The woman had big brown eyes, the kind a person could easily get lost in. Now they seemed to see right through Lyra, as if she were made of glass.

  “I see death surrounding you.”

  Lyra smirked. “I’m a crime scene investigator. That’s part of the job.”

  “It sticks to you like gossamer threads.”

  Shivering, she had the urge to swipe at her arms and legs. Maybe it was the power of suggestion, but Lyra felt like she needed a shower—that something was clinging to her skin.

  Claire wrapped her fingers around Lyra’s hands and squeezed tight, pulling her forward on the table. “You are in danger.”

  “From who?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not clear, but I see a great betrayal and heartache.”

  Instantly, Lyra thought of Theron. A man with secrets. A man she suspected possessed a dark past.

  “Someone close to you has the black mark on them. Take care in your trust. Misplace it and you will suffer greatly.” After her last word, she released her hold on Lyra’s hands and sat back in her chair.