Every file and code I created got a backup. Unfortunately, I secure my backups so well that it’s hard for even me to access them. More importantly, did someone just hack me because I was working on the dating app, or had it been randomly timed? I needed to get access to my other laptop to figure it out.
I dressed quickly and grabbed a few of my codes on flash drives just in case. I’d put them on micro drives to open on my phone in emergencies. Little things that carried both magic and technology in perfect unison. They could shut down the lights on a street with the press of a key. Or identify a creature I wasn’t familiar with if I ever crossed paths with one. Another I coded and left in my desk, was the one which could transfer a witch’s magic to a hard drive. I had yet to figure out a way to store that somewhere, but it became a fun hobby piece I enjoyed playing with when work felt light.
With my pockets filled with flash drives and my computer cable tucked into a bag, I left my room. No one hung out in the living room, and I suspected Sam prepped for the full moon shift. Angel was probably getting ready for his date. I suppressed a shudder at the thought.
It didn’t matter. I’d go alone. My laptop and connection lived uptown. To get in it would require some side eye and sass. Both of which I didn’t feel like performing in front of an audience.
The last remaining branch of my ancestral coven wasn’t a place I wanted to go so soon after a resurrection, but they had a saying about desperate times.
Chapter 6
Blake House always felt wrong to me. As the last major witch in my family, I supposed I could have claimed it for my own, but, every time I darkened the doorway, I got a bad feeling. One of those which raised the fine hairs on my forearms and put me on alert.
I didn’t bother knocking and went straight through to the locked box in the kitchen. No one looked at me. In fact, everyone who saw me spun to face away. I was the physical representation of this coven’s shame. I almost wanted to licked people on my way by just to see what they would do about it.
They changed the locks regularly to keep me out, but the house knew my blood and never failed to let me in when I needed sanctuary.
Once I got the box open, I dug out my other laptop and a few cables before securing it again. I spun to find a little girl—maybe five years old—peering into the kitchen doorway. Her glossy black hair told me they hadn’t completely destroyed my ancestral heritage from the coven.
I leaned down and whispered. “Hi, hon. What you doing in here? You should go before you get in trouble.”
A thump and a tumble, and she was jerked away from the door. I stood up and stared down the only person here who would ever meet my eyes. “So lovely to see you again, Sabrina.”
She never responded, but it was fun to push her. I waved and headed back to the front door. “It’s been a pleasure, as always,” I called before slamming it behind me.
Instead of going back to my house, I went uptown to a coffee shop I liked to work in. Not a Starbucks, but not one of those places with only raw sugar and organic toast samples either. They sold coffee plain and simple. More importantly, they paid for the fast internet.
With a fresh cup next to me, and my laptop open, I frowned to learn it needed to perform about a year’s worth of updates before I could use it. I watched the people coming in and out of the shop as I waited for the updates to complete. So normal, so human, so unsuspecting. As someone on the other side of the line, seeing humans in groups, oblivious, made me feel strange. Like I should be warning them of the dangers. But those dangers included me, and despite the adage, no one patted the messenger on the back and said thank you for the bad news.
Once the updates finished and I got the fossil restarted, I pulled up the code for the dating app. Before I could get back to the original plan, I needed to figure out where that virus came from and how it got through my personal firewall at home. I set up a partition to my desktop so nothing could get through to my real files and the network of the coffee shop. It took a few second, and then I started raking the code.
To get a virus onto my network, it took balls. So someone would literally have to walk in my front door and install a physical exploit to my devices or network. Otherwise, they would have to have had some personal contact with me or my computers. The laptop at home was in my bag when I was killed, so there may have been a window of time someone could have manipulated it. You know like when I was nine feet under. There was a week’s time frame. My laptop had been in police custody, so someone would have had to go to the police investigation unit and get access there to implant something on the device. I didn’t see that happening, but I’d need to hack the police security feeds in order to check out that avenue.
No, I’d bet my money on my personal home network. I changed my Wi-Fi password religiously, and not to rinky dink passwords like 1234 or insertdognamehere. Mine ran along math theorem solutions and long vocabulary words with random capital and special character insertions. Of all my flaws, I maintained excellent password security, no matter the situation.
I used the partition to get into my network at home. One connection, which likely belonged to Angel. He spent most of his time on the computer studying, so when I accessed his devices, I didn’t find anything suspicious. I crawled through anything on the network, including the router and even the dongle on the TV which gave us access to apps and things. Nothing there either. Sam and the witches were the only two options left.
If someone accessed one of their devices, I bet they were way less secure than mine or Angel’s. I forced him to password protect everything when he got his computer and set it up. I couldn’t recall if I’d ever seen the upstairs girls with computers on them. Tiffani might have one she took out of the house to work. I checked the IP addresses connected to the network but didn’t see anything else but Sam’s phone. Nothing there. He didn’t have the latest smart phone, and he worked in a mechanics’ shop. I didn’t think he even owned an actual computer, using his smart phone for any email or internet he actually needed.
The witches were the only possibility left. I didn’t trust them one bit, so if I didn’t find anyone accessing my computer from the police station, they would be my next stop. And they would not like my questions.
I scanned over every file I could get my hands on, just in case, but didn’t see the virus anymore. It was like as soon as it crashed my home laptop, it shut down and disappeared. No, not possible.
I clicked around some more, hoping there might be a trail or handle in the code for the hacker who made it at least. Tracking it that way might be possible. At least a handle in what was left of my laptop at home. Found it.
Quartrain.
I took the name and went straight to the dark web forums. I’d hid the magicoding in the back of a special interest forum. There were maybe five with the ability on the planet, so one of them had to be the one to get into my computer. My firewalls were laced with white and black magic. Only breachable by the same but stronger.
The forums were deserted, and I shook my head. I might as well get back to what I was trying to do in the first place. No point in wasting time when I couldn’t speak to anyone or hunt them down right now.
A girl came over and glanced at my screen. “Are you a hacker,” she whispered.
“IT,” I supplied. I didn’t need any unwanted attention. Let her think I was a good guy, if there was only going to be one.
She refilled my coffee and wandered off to another table. I took a sip and let the hot liquid soothe the ache in my chest. The stress of dying, coming back to life, and now my system being hacked. That was as painful to me as the murder.
I opened the dating app again and pulled up the locations. A cluster of white faces sat on the edge of the map. Maybe three of them. That might be a coven. The younger witches might use something like a dating app. The others wouldn’t understand or be interested. They were born in the time of absolute secrecy. Today’s witches knew how to keep a secret, but they also knew people didn’t tend to butt
into other’s business without cause. No need to really worry about someone uncovering a random dating app on someone’s phone.
I packed my bags and headed toward the coven via my phone. If I could start warning them all with a proper coven, the word could spread faster, and wider. The house was four blocks west, and I knew it immediately. Not just by the lavender lining the gates, but there was a weighted feel to the place. This house had seen things both good and bad. I opened the gate, which creaked as I entered and slammed behind me.
The steps up to the door were well maintained, as were the flower beds around the entry. This coven prospered. You could always tell by the grounds of a place how the business of it was. The little things were the first to slip in the grand scheme of life.
I knocked once and waited. No sound came from inside. As far as I could tell in the twilight, the windows were dark too. No cars on the street, either. I reached out and gripped the door handle, testing the give.
It twisted in my hand, and I pushed the door in slowly. A white coven might take exception to a random darkling just wandering in.
The smell of blood hit me first. It staggered me back, and I felt along the wall by the door to find the light switch. I flipped it on and then immediately flipped it off, but it didn’t help. The sight would stay with me until I actually made it to my death. Imprinted behind my eyes like a negative photograph in a pinhole camera.
Still seeing all that blood smeared, pooled, caking the walls and floor, I tried to steady my breathing. I couldn’t do anything for them if I got murdered again or caught there by the police.
I backed out carefully and closed the door. Then I took the edge of my t-shirt in my hand about to wipe the handle of the knob. What if I wiped away the evidence? No, as far as police knew, I was dead. They had my fingerprints on file, and it would be a record of me dead. And likely connected to these deaths in the same way. By not wiping off the evidence, I was, in effect, helping them.
I backed out of the house and tried to walk, but my legs began to shake, then my hands, arms, everything. Shock. It was beginning to set in. I took a few steps forward and stumbled out the gate and down the sidewalk.
It hurt me to leave them there like that. Not to call for help or do something to put their souls to rest. It hurt me to walk away. While we practiced different magic, they were supers, fellow witches, and I came from a time when that meant sisterhood and a bond, regardless if they knew me.
I needed a payphone. One that worked in this day and age. I walked ten blocks to an old gas station. On the side of the building sat a sad, old payphone. Thankfully, I had a quarter in my pocket. I pulled the information of the police officer who worked my case from my bag.
I flicked the quarter in and heard it pound around like a pinball through the machine before I received a dial tone. I punched the numbers and waited.
A man’s gruff voice answered. “James.”
I rattled off the address of the witch’s house and hung up. Any detective worth the effort would follow up or send a uniform or two. Hopefully, those girls were found soon. I turned away from the phone and felt all the coffee I’d drank over the course of the day threaten to come up. My stomach rolled over, and I clutched the frame of the phone to try and get my bearings.
“Get it together, Dani,” I told myself. A few minutes passed, and I stood back up, still weak and wobbly. Like most things in my life, I pushed the images out of my mind and locked them away. Just don’t think about it, and it doesn’t exist. Story of my entire fucking existence.
I needed to go home. Get into my bed. The strange thing pounding through my head was that I wanted Sam. Some part of my brain wanted him curled up around me, cocooning me in his strong arms, telling me that the world can’t get me there. That I’d be safe.
I made it home in record time and burst into the quiet house. Angel and the witch must be doing lord knows what. I went straight to my room and pushed the door open. In the middle of my perfectly made bed sat Michael the fairy.
Not fucking good.
Chapter 7
He studied me as I entered and sat my bag on the desk next to my destroyed laptop. “Can I help you?” I ventured instead of what I wanted to say which involved a lot more profanity. I also didn’t want to be turned inside out by a fae for smarting off so...I went for moderation.
I turned back to face him once I schooled my features.
“You’ve been busy, Little Dove.”
He wore a tailored suit now, which fit him as if they’d cut the fabric while he wore it. Even his pants fit every curve of his body with exacting precision. I avoided that line of thought and met his eyes. He continued to watch me in that haunting way fae can get after being alive so damn long.
“I’ve been trying to save lives. For now, if that keeps me busy, so be it. Did you come here for a particular purpose?”
He stood and buttoned that oh so fitted jacket and towered over me. I backed against the desk and held onto the rickety wood. It wasn’t out of menace. He simply didn’t understand his presence could do that to a person. “Indeed,” he said, finally taking his eyes off of me to look around my room.
The bed was not made when I left the house, and Angel knew better than to enter my room when I wasn’t there unless he needed to get funeral stuff. That meant my week’s too dirty sheets were handled by a fairy. Not very comforting.
Once he finished his perusal, he faced me again. “Just making sure you arrived home safely after our meeting. I have certain associates who might be interested as to why I’d be questioning a witch. Furthermore, you make me curious, Darkling, and curiosity has long ago been something I see through when I can find it.”
“Why would someone like me make someone like you curious? Surely you’ve encountered cursed dark witches in your time.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as if he might smile. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
“I have encountered many creatures during my life. You are something else. Not just the fact that you are cursed, or a dark witch, there is something else about you which intrigues me. I’d like to make sure you live long enough for me to figure out this puzzle.”
My luck was about like this. When a man shows interest, he’s a scary as hell fairy. Perfect. “I assume you’re not talking about my coding skills. There isn’t a chance you want a custom app made, or something?”
He shook his head. “You know what I am referring to.”
Of course. “And if I have no interest?”
He blinked and turned his head to the side, again studying me. “I will not force you to do anything against your will. But I will ask that you keep an open mind and offer me the opportunity to show you my intentions are not harmful.”
“What if we made another deal?”
He waved his hand, regally, like a king encouraging a peasant. “Elaborate, please.”
“You tell me what you know of my last death and these witch murders around the city, and I will spend two hours with you, voluntarily, to do what you want within reason.”
He did smile now, and I sucked in a breath. Good God, I could see why these creatures could topple countries. “I’ll even be nice and tell you that before we make this bargain, you should expound on what within reason. As is, I would have carte blanche on what we might do. And something tells me that is not amenable to your sensibilities.”
I swallowed heavily and let out the breath I’d been holding to dampen his glamour on my system.
“If you tell me what you know about my recent death and the witch murders around the city, I will give you two hours of my time, to be spent at the moment of your choosing, where we might spend our time...” I shook my head trying to figure out the wording. With faries, you needed to be as specific as possible, or they would find a loop hole and rip that thing wide open.
He licked his lips and offered, “Conducting an activity that is mutually agreed upon.”
I nodded and waited for him to agree.
“What if I
don’t know anything about these deaths?”
“Then no deal.”
He stood up, and I backed away to the door. He was so much taller than me, and his glamour oozed out of him, touching me with an intimacy I was not entirely comfortable with.
“What if I know nothing and still wish to spend a little of my time with you?”
I swallowed and eyed him. He was not going to give up. Looked like regardless, I had a date with a fairy. “I would then amend the deal. I will give you two hours, to do a mutually agreed upon activity, if you drop your glamour. Completely, right now.”
The light in the room shuttered, and it was as if that light sucked all into him at once. For a moment, I feared it might be like the moment right before a very large bomb exploded, but when the light flickered on again, and I could see him clearly. I pressed harder against the door. He was still beautiful. Stunning, but now he had a more physical quality about him, less ethereal. It didn’t hurt me to physically look at him. I sagged into myself in relief.
“Did it hurt you to look at me?” he asked in genuine curiosity.
I nodded. “You’re ancient, and I think you might not know how strong your glamour is to our kind.”
“I’ll endeavor to make you more comfortable in the future.”
I did not like the way he said future. “You have two hours,” I said, pointing as his chest.
He picked up his jacket on the bed and swirled it on with a shake of his head. “Not now, Darkling. I will contact you at the moment of my choosing. You will wait until then.”
I kept the snort at bay. Fine by me.
He straightened his coat as a wolf howl ripped through the house.
I jolted and then dove for the door. Michael followed me leisurely as if he were about to go down to dinner. I jumped the last two stairs to find Sam in the doorway, fully wolf. “Uh, Sam. Please tell me you didn’t come here like that.”
Another howl echoed off the rafters. It wasn’t joyful like I was used to hearing from him. That call was laced with pain and loss and longing. I knelt down in front of him and met his eyes. My head could have fit in his jaws, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Not Sam.
To the Grave Page 4