“I’d say that’s pretty much a given. She had no choice because of his sway over her. Once the bonding pheromones took over, Brooke became desperate for the next fix. In essence, Lawrence turned her into a blood slave. The penalty is an automatic death sentence. The Council doesn’t take kindly to innocents being taken against their will. When we do find Lawrence, and I assure you we will, they’ll vote for execution.” Mulroney exhaled, and she picked up on his anxiety as it rolled off him in waves.
“What aren’t you telling me?” She finished the last of her drink and started to feel more like herself. “Please, I have a right to know.”
He ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “A week ago, a young woman was found in a ditch with all the blood drained from her body. She was last seen at one of Lawrence’s events. The murder is what led us to beef up our investigation.”
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. “Are you saying that Kurt Lawrence is a murderer?”
His ice-blue eyes softened a fraction when they gazed into hers. “It’s sure starting to look that way. You threatened to expose one of the most influential vampires in the New York area as both a fraud and a human trafficker to a million of your followers. We’ve managed to keep all of this out of the mage news. But a single tweet could ruin him in no time flat. And now that Brooke’s been taken, you’re our prime witness in her kidnapping, which I’m afraid puts you in terrible danger, Miss Howe. This isn’t just a human you need protection from. Are you aware of a vampire’s speed and strength?”
Gillian figured she must be suffering from shock because she couldn’t fully wrap her brain around what he was saying. Seeing Lawrence take Brooke was bad enough, to think that the vampire could also be a killer was too much to process all at once. “I get it. I’m in danger.” But she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do until Lawrence was found, except maybe hide out for a while. “There are protection spells and charms I can weave here.”
“With all due respect, Miss Howe, you’ll need more than a spell to protect you against a vampire.” His words cut through the room and made her tense.
“How come you’re not going after the vampire that Lawrence works for?” She got up and began to pace; then, she remembered Brooke’s keys in the front pocket of her hoodie. They jingled with every step. “If he's the one pulling the strings, why not bust down his door and arrest him?”
“Trust me, it’s not that simple.” His tone filled with anger. “If it were, he'd been in custody. He knows how to keep his hands clean and let others do his dirty work.”
“I refuse to stand here and do nothing while my cousin’s out there. I’m going to try scrying her.” Gillian pulled out Brooke’s keychain from the front pocket of her hoodie and set it on the table. She took the map of Hudson County that they kept on a corkboard and spread it across the table; then, glanced over at Mulroney. “Do you have anything of Lawrence’s that I can use, like a business card? I don’t know, maybe a fang?”
His lips curled into a smile. “I think I might have something.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and grabbed a business card. “You’re in luck.” When he handed it to her, their fingers touched, and she felt that same shock of electricity like a live wire.
She ignored it and placed the card on top of the map, along with the small hematite crystal from the inside of her bra. “Thanks.” After she grabbed a lighter from a kitchen drawer, she lit a few sticks of incense and three white candles. She picked up a saltshaker and sprinkled a circle of protection around the table. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered and reached for the keychain, holding it over the map. The moment she closed her eyes, she focused her mind and set her intention for her spell.
“Goddess of light give me the power to see,
To find this innocent and set her free.
This is my will, so mote it be.”
Sparks of light filled her vision as the spell took shape. Magick, pure and bright, pulsed through her fingertips as the keychain swung back and forth. After a few minutes, it began to swing in a circle. Finally, the keychain landed on a spot on Route 3. “Mulroney? You need to see this.”
“Did you pick up anything?” He moved to her side and ran his finger over the place on the map where the pendulum had landed. His arm brushed hers, and she tried to ignore the tingle along her skin. “This is somewhere in Lyndhurst. There’s a stretch of motels along the highway.” He grabbed his cell and took a picture of the spot before glancing over at her again. “I’m calling my boss.”
For a moment, his words took Gillian by surprise. Not all cops were open to using psychics in their investigations, even in an unofficial capacity. Gillian could thank Willow for the shift. While working as a consultant for the MBI, her friend had helped solve a murder case. Gillian suspected even a hard-ass like Mulroney would be open to the idea after that. She supposed maybe he wasn’t a complete jerk after all. “I just pray it leads us to Brooke.”
Chapter 7
Mulroney found a corner of the kitchen next to a butcher block and took a seat at a stool. A leather-bound book sat open with splotches of candle wax of all over the pages. He took his cell, pushed a button, and his captain, Mark Matthews, answered right away.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Hello to you too. I’m at the coven.” They’d been working together for almost a decade now, but rarely saw eye to eye. Right now he wasn’t sure how to phrase what he was about to say without sounding like he’d lost his marbles, so he just dove in. “Miss Howe used magic to try to locate her cousin, and frankly, I think she may be onto something.” After he filled him in on the location, he stole a glance at Gillian. She continued to pace back and forth with a shell-shocked look on her face. “I need a squad car to comb the area along the highway.” There was dead silence on the other end of the phone line. “Sir?” he prompted.
“Still here. I guess I’m surprised that you’re taking the word of a psychic into account, but then again this is Gillian Howe we’re talking about.” Some gossip had spread through the station that they shared a rather contentious relationship, and now, Garrett was the butt of some colorful ribbing. “Don’t worry. I’ll send a car.”
“It’s worth a shot. I’m copying Denopoulos and Teague on the area as well.” He didn’t typically rely on something as unscientific as the occult in police work, but over the years, he’d experienced his fair share of cold cases that eventually became reopened and solved using forensic psychics. Hell, he’d try anything at this point if it led them to Lawrence. “How about you? What do you have so far?”
“I’ve gone over all the interviews from the hotel room, and it’s a major shitshow. I’m sending you the video to see if you can pick up on something I might’ve missed.”
After a moment, his phone pinged. “Got it. You were saying?” Garrett asked, hoping to get something concrete.
“All of the women there, aside from the two witnesses, were sent by a business associate of Lawrence’s. She goes by the name Rowena Cherry.”
Garrett scratched his head. “Why do I know that name? Wait a minute; I busted a Rowena Cherry years ago. She was some Upper East Side socialite. The woman would have to be close to eighty by now. She can’t still be doing the same thing. Could it be her daughter?”
“I’ve got her file right here.” The sound of his captain pounding on his keyboard crackled through the phone line. “Trust me, it’s her. I guess she figures she has a good thing going and it beats canasta. She’s been busted in Brooklyn and Queens for pretty much the same thing. She’s somehow managed to lure these women into the blood ring by promising them educational scholarships and fashion careers. But it’s all just a ruse to groom them into becoming blood slaves. Nothing we can prove solidly enough to put her away, but you know how that goes.”
“Let me get this straight, I want to make sure I get all the players right,” Garrett said, shaking his head. “Lawrence pays Rowena Cherry for the women she sends over while he gets paid by the Brotherhood
to find them a blood bond. They have quite the business model going on. Send me the client list and the forensics report on the Jane Doe found off Frank Sinatra Boulevard. It can’t be a coincidence. The killer must’ve dumped the body there for a reason, either because they were sloppy or to frame it on someone from the Brotherhood.”
“The Jane Doe’s been identified as Serena Benson, age twenty-four, a grad student at Columbia. She was last seen at one of Lawrence’s soirées two weeks ago. I think it’s safe to say that whoever killed her was somehow connected to the Brotherhood, the question was how.”
Garrett ran a hand over his mouth, and sighed, the realization making his throat tight. “Could she have threatened to expose their operation?”
“Lawrence is more or less a flunky,” Matthews said. “He’s not experienced enough to pull this off himself. Someone else is pulling the strings.”
“Someone like Malcom Von Scrivner?” Garrett’s jaw clenched. From all accounts, the vampire had reputed ties to human traffickers all over Europe before he came here to the states.
“We’ve done surveillance on him, and there have been multiple calls and text messages to Kurt Lawrence.”
Garrett bit back a curse and ran a hand through his hair. Hearing the words fueled his anger even more. “What does that mean for the investigation?”
“We can use your connection to Von Scrivner to our advantage.”
“What are you saying? What do you want me to do?”
“Protect the witness. If he discovers you’re involved, it could draw him out,” Matthews continued. “From now on, I want you glued to Gillian Howe’s side as much as possible. Make sure she sticks to her normal routine to keep from arousing suspicion. You can take turns with Dubrosky keeping an eye on her at work. If memory serves, she owns some kind of head shop on Washington Street.”
“It’s called Enchantments,” Garrett muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. He’d driven by the place more times than he could count, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. His boss didn’t need to know he’d taken a personal interest in the witness, or he might pull him from the case.
“My guess is it’s only a matter of time before Lawrence sends one of his thugs to keep her quiet. Your favorite witch has been tweeting about him, and we can use it to our advantage to lure him into the open.”
He’d warned her about this very thing. “It sounds like you want to offer her up as bait.” Garrett tried to keep the anger out of his voice and failed.
The captain’s silence only confirmed his suspicions. “I wish I had something different to report. We’ll send a uniform to stay parked outside the coven.”
“Thanks for the update. I’ll check in with you later,” Garrett said, ending the call. When he made his way back to where Gillian stood, she turned to face him, looking pale and shaken. Even without a stitch of makeup on her natural beauty shone through. Loose tendrils of dark hair fell from her ponytail. She wore an oversized, grey NYU hoodie and a pair of jogging pants that hugged her ass and shaped her long legs. Everything about this damn woman was a distraction he didn’t need.
He stood close to her, his boots almost touching her sneakers, absorbing her heat. “I just got off the line with my captain. He’s putting the location out on the police scanner. A squad car will be sent to the area.
Gillian nodded, looking relieved. “Thank you. I guess it’s a start.” She walked around the kitchen, waving her hands, leaving a trail of magick sparks as she lowered the blinds on all the windows before turning to face him.
“There’s still another matter to contend with. Have you been tweeting about Kurt Lawrence when I specifically told you not to? What could you be thinking?”
“Yes, but it was for the sole purpose of exposing him and his operation—”
He held up his hand. “No more. You’re only adding kerosene to the fire.” Tears swam in her eyes, and the sight burned any remnants of anger away.
“I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to help.”
“From now on, there will be no tweeting. It’s too dangerous.” He wanted to take her in his arms, rub her back, and run his fingers through her hair to ease her pain, but he stayed rooted to the spot. Guilt gnawed at him. He wished he could’ve given Brooke Corey a warning. The whole thing happened too damn fast.
She huffed out a breath. “Fine, I get it.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to find Brooke, uh, that is my partner and I will, along with the other agents,” he clarified, not wanting Gillian to know that he’d taken a special interest in this case. She was a witness and the last person he should be thinking about in such a raw, sexual way.
He wondered if a frantic lover was waiting for her call. How come he wasn’t racing over here to make sure she was okay? Maybe there wasn’t one. The thought shouldn’t have filled him with relief, but somehow it did.
“What happened to your other partner, the guy that came over to the coven with you?” Gillian grabbed a couple of glasses from the cupboard, filled them with filtered water from the fridge, and set them on the counter. She held the glass to her mouth and took a long pull. He tried to look away, he did, but his eyes, of their own accord, darted to the sexy tilt of her lips. “He was pleasant. Let me guess, you scared him away?”
Very funny. He didn’t need to drink water as humans did, but why be rude? So he lifted the glass and chugged. When he finished, he set it back on the counter. “He took a transfer that had absolutely nothing to do with me.” He didn’t owe her an explanation. Derek Sorenson had been his partner and friend for the past five years up until his wife had their second child. He requested to be relocated to North Carolina, something about being close to relatives. Every time Garrett thought about Derek and his happy, little family, his chest grew tight. Living like a vampire for the better part of his adult life meant that being a parent and a husband was something he’d never fully understand, or have the good fortune to experience, but deep down, he envied the hell out of the guy.
“What now?” Gillian asked, interrupting his musings.
“I haven’t checked your bedroom.” Garrett angled his head toward the hall.
She visibly tensed. “You want to search my room?”
“I’m not letting you go in there alone. I won’t take a chance with your life.” From the skittish way she reacted, it became abundantly clear she didn’t want him anywhere near her bedroom. The question was, why? “Is that a problem for you?”
“Nope, no problem at all. It’s on the main floor, second door on the right,” Gillian said and hurried out of the kitchen.
Mulroney followed her into the hallway and fell in step beside her. They passed dark wooden beams and archways, along with stained glass windows and doors. Tall trees in clay planters lined every corner.
They walked past the ritual room, and he remembered it from the last time he’d been there. Antique lanterns and redwood moldings matched the Victorian style of the house. He pointed to an area of unfinished molding, baseboards, and sheetrock. “It looks like your project never got finished.”
“After the murders last year, we lost quite a few members and ran out of money.” Gillian shrugged. “We’ve just never found someone to finish the job.”
Now he had even more reason to assume she didn’t have a boyfriend, at least not a handy one. His attention caught on the black and orange twinkle lights strung along the dark wooden beams. After they turned the corner, they passed the sun porch, and he let out a low hiss.
Hay stalks stood on either side of the screen door. Bright colored mums, pumpkins, and gourds sat on top of giant bales of hay. A life-sized plastic witch with a black pointed hat, crooked nose, and a cape dangled from a wire. Amusement shot through him at the artful display. At least these women could make fun of themselves. They certainly knew how to decorate for Halloween.
“Where do I go from here? Do you think Lawrence will come after me?”
“It’s certainly a possibility. We’re working on a way to offer you protec
tion.” He rubbed the back of his neck and decided to leave out the part about getting assigned to be her bodyguard. “I wish I had more to tell you at this point. You need to be patient a little longer while we figure out a plan.”
She nodded, and a curious expression spread across her pretty face. “I’ve been thinking about the vampire that Lawrence works for, the head of this Du Sang brotherhood. Have you arrested him before? I mean, you seem to know a great deal about him.”
He stopped in his tracks, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I should. He’s my sire.”
When they reached Gillian’s door, Garrett darted in front of her with one hand on his Glock. He needed to make sure no one was lurking in the hallway. He tried to tamp down the anger still coursing through his veins. How could he not want to go after the bastard himself? Sitting on the sidelines was going to kill him.
When they got to her bedroom, Garrett stood outside the door and remained rooted to the spot. He cleared his throat.
“What, aren’t you coming in?” she asked, looking at him like he’d sprouted another head.
“You need to invite me first. There are laws in our world, Miss Howe.”
Her brown eyes locked on his. “My apologies, your highness.” She extended her hand and bowed.
“Are you always such a smartass?”
“Only around you. Please, come in. Forgive me, this is the first time I’ve ever had a vampire in my bedroom.”
He crossed the threshold and scowled. The thought of any male going into her room filled him with irrational jealousy. “As long as we’re on the subject, vampire blood rings aside, you need to be careful who you trust. If I told you the things I’ve seen in my life as a cop, you’d think twice about who you date.” The last he’d inquired, which was several months back, Alex had confirmed Gillian was single. “Not that it’s any of my business, but you do have a habit of putting yourself in dangerous situations.” He couldn’t keep the note of possessiveness out of his voice.
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