I was suspended in mid-air. New Target’s eyes blazed. I didn’t have time for a what the hell? as I found myself back to staring at him from across the room. My breath steadied as I mentally prepared for what was about to happen. His energy shot me forward. His grip tight on my shirt.
“You can’t stop us.”
Déjà vu. Too bad for him.
This time, I reached behind my back and unhooked the sword from its harness tucked underneath my jacket just as The Cat in the Hat fell. My back slammed against the floor. Breath didn’t have time to return to lungs as I rolled. Books crashed down to where I’d been, and I was already back on my feet when the towering shelf crumbled.
“Infernum.”
The sword lit. The blue flames licked the steel as I watched New Target’s face contort. His rage created a massive energy swelling around me. I plunged. The sword’s tip found its mark, and the flames drilled inside New Target’s chest. His eyes widened. With a yell, he burned up into a ball of fire until he was nothing. Not even ash.
I stilled, listening to the pants of my breath. No flames were in sight on the steel blade. I glanced around the room at the scattered books and the broken bookshelves. Wood had splintered off. One of those chunks should have been impaled inside my chest. I stared at it, the memory of the pain still strong. I had almost died. I should have died. Another thought struck. A revelation.
Holy crap. I could see the future.
Chapter Eighteen
When can we meet? Need to talk.
I stared hard at the cell phone screen, willing Hadley’s answer. It popped up.
Soon. Priority. I got info but need 2 talk in person.
Info? Her coffee meeting with the potential serial killer, I finally recalled. Which had been yesterday, and which I’d forgotten. But after what had happened, I was pretty certain I'd be excused. Thankful the potential serial killer wasn’t a real serial killer, I quickly typed a response for her to let me know.
Text sent, my phone was shoved into my purse. Perhaps a little too aggressively, but borderline violence was expected considering my irritation by the wait. My wanting to talk now was thwarted by Hadley’s schedule, which was too jam-packed to easily clear appointments, regardless of importance. I’d already seen her twice in one week, more than I’d been able in the past six months. I should count myself lucky. Still not a consolation prize because I needed answers. I had to talk. Anxiety had bitten at me all day, the confrontation with New Target set on replay in my mind. And it wore my nerves thin.
But I was lucky. Yup. Lucky. I sucked in a calming breath and pulled open the door to a trendy new bistro. To say Miss Prim had picked the location for my evening dinner was an understatement. My afternoon had been spent listening to the five-star Yelp reviews being read in the ghost’s eager voice. A full detailed review was demanded of me at work the next morning. Or else. Since she’d never gotten to the or else part before disappearing to who knows where—probably checking on the cookie baking ho at the police station—I wasn’t overly concerned.
I needed a place to speak with Aunt Kate, and over dinner would do. It would keep her tied down to one location for a period of time. She had a tendency to get antsy and go wandering when the topic of conversation got anywhere near serious. That restlessness especially occurred if a member of the male human species between the ages of twenty-one and sixty was in the vicinity. And while I expected many to fit that criterion in the restaurant that evening, Aunt Kate could keep content with tableside viewing. So Miss Prim’s suggestion of the new bistro met with my approval. But her rummaging through my purse and attacking my cheeks with blush before she went poof was rather odd.
Brushing aside all thoughts of Miss Prim, I stepped into air-conditioned relief. Wearing a jacket was proving to be tricky, and it was only day two. Today, I’d managed to pull off trendy, and Maude had obviously approved. The lack of attire comment equated to wardrobe acceptance at the very least.
I wore a black, boat neck, lace sheath dress with a tailored leather jacket I’d received two Christmases ago, along with black knee-high boots. Maude’s approval was probably based on the whole black thing I had going. Black equaled sophistication, although, with my fair skin and dark hair, I was pushing the Goth. I’d initially been skeptical of the leather against lace, but it’d actually worked out in a bad-assed kind of way. Combined with the sword strapped to my back, I was feeling a lot more in control of my life. Powerful. And relieved. Having taken New Target out gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, I could do this new gig. Which was why Aunt Kate needed to fill me in on every supernatural, paranormal and prophecy topic I’d spent the last twenty years ignoring whenever she spoke. Aunt Kate had a single dinner to accomplish this task, and she’d yet been informed to having accepted my challenge.
Unfortunately, no Aunt Kate stood within my line of sight as I entered the restaurant, but she often averaged a fifteen-minute delay to any appointment. I’d inherited my tardiness tendencies from her, but on a good day, I ran a schedule usually only five after. With another ten minutes before her expected arrival, my name was added to the waitlist, which was only at ten due to the early hour. I took a seat while thinking about my aunt’s perfect timing.
A tug yanked the hem of my dress. I looked down. Large hazel eyes stared up.
“I like your shoes.” The voice sounded small and sweet. My boot would probably come up to the girl’s chest. She squeezed at a rag doll as uncertainty flickered across her small round face.
I smiled. “Thank you, they’re called boots. I like your doll.”
Her face lit. “Uncle Ty gave her to me. I’m three.”
No idea how being three had anything to do with her doll, but it was cute, so I grinned some more. I looked at the girl’s mother seated next to me on the bench. “It sounds like she has a keeper for an uncle, getting such a fabulous doll.”
“Oh, she’s certain she does. She adores her uncle, but he’s always busy with work so we don’t see him often. But we’re seeing him tonight for dinner. Aren’t we, Grace?”
Grace bounced up and down. “Yes.”
“Are you dining alone?” The woman’s face fell. “I’m sorry, that’s not my business.”
“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m meeting my aunt. She’s notoriously late to everything. Claims it’s to make a grand entrance.”
“I have a cousin like that.” The woman laughed and held out her right hand while her left struggled to reign in a rambunctious three-year-old. “I’m Reagan, by the way.”
“Kiara.” I shook. “Nice to meet you.”
“Uncle Ty!”
Grace broke free from her mother’s grasp and ran into the arms of an approaching man. I looked up at Detective Wilcox’s face. Wow. Not the person I expected. Brain scrambled to accept details of the unexpected appearance, and the first thing it noticed was his great smile. Scratch that, mesmerizing smile that came with the hint of a dimple. Who knew he had one? Certainly not me. It was good I’d never been on the receiving end of that smile because otherwise, I’d have been a gawking mess. All client info would have been handed over without question and never would I have realized his irritating traits—and the man had many. Especially his ability to leave me at a loss for words when his arrogance demanded a royal smack-down. Although, I somewhat held my own thank-you-very-much.
Nope, I couldn’t forget that. His smile was lethal, and I was thankful he kept it in check.
He’d scooped up Grace into his arms, and her small face beamed. His own face was lit just as bright. Adoration was clearly mutual, and it left a weird tugging sensation in the location of my heart. But the brilliant smile froze the second he spotted me, and the sudden loss of warmth radiating from his face left me feeling hollow. Which was silly, but I squirmed uncomfortably while wishing to be anywhere but where I sat.
Why the heck I should feel guilty for showing up to the same public restaurant as him was a good question. But I did. His surprised—perhaps leery—expression left me
feeling like a stalker. It was Miss Prim he needed to worry about. Wait a minute. Miss Prim…
“Good to see you, Ty.” Reagan stood and gave him a hug. “Stop being a stranger.”
“Things are busy—”
“Busy at work, I know.” She grabbed her purse and caught my eye. “Ty, I’d like you to meet—”
“Kiara Blake,” Wilcox said. “We’ve met.”
“Oh?” Reagan’s eyebrows rose.
I stood. “Detective Wilcox recently had to question me about a case he’s working. Any new leads, Detective?”
“Nothing that can be discussed.”
Now my curiosity was piqued because according to Miss Prim, no new leads had come in. So was he trying to butt me out of his business, or had something new happened? Questions burned me, but I refrained from asking.
“Well,” Reagan said to Wilcox. “I’m glad you found time in your busy day to invite us to dinner. It’s all Grace has talked about for the last two hours.”
Wilcox frowned. “You invited me.”
Reagan shook her head as she pulled out a cell phone. “No, you texted me to be here at six. See?”
Six o’clock. The time Miss Prim suggested I schedule my dinner with Aunt Kate. It’s a good time to eat, the dinner rush is only starting, she’d said. You won’t have to wait long to be seated, she’d said.
Wilcox shifted Grace to his left hip and pulled out his own cell phone from his right pocket. “But I got a message at the precinct from you. I never sent—”
His forehead creased as he checked his phone. The intense focus turned on me. Why was it always me he looked at whenever Miss Prim was up to her antics? I stepped back and landed on my seat. Butt only thought it’d gotten a reprieve. Note to self: stop falling around this man. Falling was the least of my concerns. I was officially back on the receiving end of Wilcox’s stare. Heat radiated through me, and not because of the jacket. I also couldn’t look away, but I’d be hunting down a certain ghost as soon as possible.
“Reagan, party of three.” The restaurant host’s voice broke the tension between us.
“I need to see if they have a booster.” Reagan took a protesting Grace from Wilcox’s arms. “It was nice meeting you, Kiara.”
“You, too.” I stood back up, but only because Wilcox loomed over me if I remained seated, leaving me vulnerable. But now he was too close, and standing had been a mistake. Heat emanated off his body. His scent was spicy. And I wasn’t going to acknowledge either. Seriously, I did not take another sniff. Nope. I crossed my arms, which brushed against his wide chest, and stared up into his too handsome face. Once again lost in his rich brown eyes. From this close, I noticed gold flecks in them. It was at the tip of my tongue to ask if he was part vampire. Because wits had scattered, and it had to be due to vampire charm. That was the only acceptable explanation. “Why do you always look at me as if I ran over your puppy?”
He flinched, and his eyes narrowed. “Why are you the person always around when anything odd happens?”
“I asked you a question first.”
“And if you would answer mine, you’d have your answer.”
But I couldn’t answer because he was correct. Her name was Miss Prim. How did one go about explaining Miss Prim?
“You’re an odd one, Ms. Blake.” His gaze flicked down, and I could have sworn it landed on my lips. But before Brain could process, I was staring back into his eyes as he said, “Nice jacket. Stay warm.”
Stay warm? What the hell? That was his parting shot? And I had no witty retort as Brain turned into scrambled mush. Damn. And why did people keep calling me odd? Okay, demons, not people, actually. Whatever. I was perfectly normal and would have liked to inform Wilcox of that very fact except he’d already walked away to his table.
“What a fine ass. Detective Wilcox?” Aunt Kate’s gaze remained firmly rooted to his butt. “So how are you this fine day, young one?”
“About to murder a ghost.”
Her lips pursed in thought. “Is that possible?”
“I’m about to find out.”
We were seated a few minutes later. Thankfully, across the room from Wilcox. Focus was my objective, and focusing and Wilcox didn’t co-exist. They were an oxymoron. Wilcox. Focus. The man was an irritating distraction who needed to be forgotten. Except he proved to be damn hard to overlook.
“The detective is looking well. He didn’t ask you to join him?”
“Detective Wilcox is with family, Aunt Kate, and I didn’t invite you to dinner to talk about men.”
“Kiara Abigail Blake, there’s always a reason to be discussin’ men.”
I reached for a roll from the breadbasket and shredded it on my plate. Not once did I envision it to be my aunt’s head.
Okay, maybe once.
The server took our order and left our table. I turned to my aunt. “How about we discuss my curse?”
“You mean your gift?”
“Whatever you want to call it.”
“Well, it’s about time ye came around. Now, what do you want to know?”
I chewed on my lip. Where to begin? Too much had happened during the past week. “Why me?”
“That I don’t know. Next question.”
“Why do you believe in this stuff and Mom doesn’t?”
Aunt Kate sighed and set down her glass of wine. “She believed once, but after our mam had died it is as if she shut herself off. I think she’s afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of you,” Aunt Kate said. “Our mother spent most of her life researching the prophecy, and she was certain it would be you. You’re the one. Your mam doesn’t like that.”
“What does this one do?”
“Not certain on that, young one. Mam died before she could decipher the full prophecy.”
“Okay, then the demon stuff. How am I part demon? Did the ancient Celts even believe in demons and Hell?”
“No, not really. Not until they were introduced to Christianity. They have their own beliefs about the underworld.”
“How does this make any sense?”
“Well, to be honest, it doesn’t. That’s what my mother spent most of her life tryin’ to understand.”
“Any reason why my grandmother thought it was me?”
Aunt Kate shook her head. “No, she was quiet about her research. When she died, she took many secrets with her.”
I’d only met my Grandma Maura once. It was in the delivery room on the day I was born. Logical explanations don’t exist for how I’ve maintained a remembrance from the first few seconds of my life. The rest of my memories start around age four or five, and a lot of them are of Addie. But the day I was born started out cold. The nurse’s hands, rough. The cloth against my skin, coarse. And a blinding light shined. It was warm. It was my grandmother, and she glowed.
“You’re the one, Kiara.”
I’d reached for her, feeling her joy. And she disappeared. Both her warmth and happiness were gone.
My grandmother had passed away two hours before my birth. I didn't know she was my grandmother until aged six when I happened upon a picture of her at Aunt Kate’s and questioned her name. My mother didn’t keep any pictures of Grandma Maura around, and she was never spoken of either. The pendant was the only possession of my grandmother’s my mother had, and I’d lost that.
“Do you know what else is in this world…” After a quick survey of the surrounding tables, I dropped my voice. “Other than humans?”
“Well, there are witches…” Aunt Kate said, her words falling into an unintelligible mumble.
“What?”
She huffed out a dramatic sigh. “I said I got kicked out of me coven!”
“You’re a witch? Seriously?”
“Apparently not a very good one. My magic isn’t always there.”
Ouch. Touchy subject. Moving on. “What else?”
“Fairies, although they stay in the Otherworld most of the time.”
“Banshees?”
>
“Real.”
“Trolls?”
“Nah, made up to scare kids. There are a lot of demons, different types that have come to the human realm over the past century. Succubus, Incubus, Vampires… I’ve heard that reapers exists. I guess someone has to ferry the souls, especially the ones destined for Hell. Doubt anyone wants to go there.”
Tell me about it.
“And you bear the gift to see into the ghost realm. That’s why I believe you to be the prophecy, Kiara. You’re the first one in our line with that ability.”
“What about sight?”
“What do you mean?”
“Visions? Seeing the future?”
“Like Aerowen? It’s told that she had powerful sight into the future.” Aunt Kate paused, and I swore the thoughts spinning inside her head were visible. And they moved fast. “Why do ye ask? Do you have visions?”
Do I tell her? Do I not?
“You do, don’t you?”
Yes? No? I nodded.
“Wonderful!”
“Hey, hold on.” I threw my hands up. “I think I might, but I’m not sure. I’ve seen a couple of things right before they’ve happened. But how? How do I see things?”
“Don’t worry about it now, young one. Your powers will grow.”
If Scare the crap out of Kiara wasn’t her goal, her tactics needed some work. Because exactly how will these powers grow?
“Why do I have powers? And why now? What does the prophecy about The One say?”
“There’s a book, a journal really,” Aunt Kate said. “Our ancestor, Caitriona, wrote everything down in the Middle Ages to keep record of the prophecy and the story surroundin’ it. Before that, the story was passed verbally. Caitriona wrote down everything in Old Irish. Mam spent many years tryin’ to translate as much of it as she could, but she never spoke about it, and almost all of her discoveries she took to the grave.”
Reaping Havoc: Kiara Blake Book 1 Page 19