Grave Rites: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Grant Wolves Book 6)

by Lori Drake

Cathy stood as well and began gathering up dishes. Justin made a noise of protest, leaping to his feet to try and take the dishes from her.

  “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning up,” Cathy said, a hint of steel behind her words. “You did the cooking, so I’ll take care of it.”

  They were still bickering like an old married couple when Joey slipped out the back door, snickering to herself.

  Several phone calls and a brief drive later, Joey stepped into Jumpin’ Java. A local gem tucked away in an affluent neighborhood, it was minutes from downtown Seattle but off of major arteries so it still had that neighborhood coffeehouse kind of feel. It was also a few short blocks from the dance studio where Joey and Chris had been booking studio time since the move, so they’d become regulars.

  She ordered herself an Americano and settled at a small table, facing the door, as far away from the other patrons as possible. Thankfully, the place was fairly quiet for a Monday afternoon, containing only a handful of other patrons, most of whom had headphones on—the better to have a discreet, sensitive conversation with her favorite homicide detective.

  Jim Harding wasn’t exactly a friend, but he was definitely an ally. She regretted not talking to him sooner, even though she knew it was unlikely he would’ve been able to do anything with the information. She also wasn’t sure how she felt about giving him the skinny on witches, since it wasn’t exactly their place to do so. But with Ethan as unwilling to cooperate as he was, their hands were tied—or at least that’s what she told herself.

  Harding walked in a few minutes later and came over to her table after he’d purchased a cup of coffee for himself. House blend, black, Joey had overheard and made a note for the future. She already had a vanilla latte and a ham sandwich from the refrigerated case on the table for Chris since he’d probably been running too late that morning for breakfast.

  “Where’s your partner in crime?” Harding asked, popping the top off his to-go cup so his steaming coffee could cool once he was settled at the table.

  “Nice to see you too.” Joey tapped the cardboard sleeve around her cup with a manicured nail. “He should be here any minute. How’s it going? I never had a chance to congratulate you on your promotion.”

  He grunted. “I’ll consider that a good thing. Whenever the two of you come around, my life seems to get a little too interesting.”

  “Oh, come on. You solved a case and got a promotion out of it last time.”

  “I also got shot at.”

  “Fair point.” Joey smiled faintly, but it was forced. The reminder brought a lot of bad memories around her mother’s untimely death and subsequent funeral to the surface, but she pushed them back down as best she could.

  They made small talk until Chris arrived a few minutes later. Joey lifted the coffee she’d gotten for him and waved him over. He was still wearing his suit pants, so he must’ve come from the courthouse, but he was sans suit coat, opting instead for the more casual button-down shirt and slacks.

  He settled in his chair and murmured a thank you as she handed him his cup. She nudged the sandwich toward him too, and his eyes met hers briefly, but there was a distance to them that sent a shiver down her spine. Yeah. She was still in the doghouse.

  “Nice to see you, detective,” Chris said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Keep going, I’ll catch up.”

  Joey shook her head. “We didn’t really start. We were waiting on you.”

  “Oh, okay.” Chris began unwrapping the sandwich, cellophane crinkling between his fingers.

  Joey hoped he didn’t lose his appetite in the face of the somber subject matter they were about to dive into. “So, you’re probably wondering why we asked for a meeting.”

  Harding nodded gruffly, toying with his coffee cup. “Before you start, I need to know if we’re on the record or not.”

  “A little of both, I’m afraid.” Joey sighed and sat back in her chair. “This is about an active homicide investigation, but there are probably things you won’t want to put in a report.”

  The detective narrowed his eyes, glancing between them. “If this has something to do with you being responsible for said homicide, I feel like I should warn you that I am an officer of the law.”

  “Noted,” Chris said before taking a big bite of the sandwich.

  Joey bit her lip to resist the urge to roll her eyes, then cleared her throat. “No, we didn’t kill anyone.” This time. Yet. “It’s about Naomi Shaw.”

  Harding lifted a brow. “The women they pulled out of the Sound yesterday?”

  Joey’s stomach clenched, and she cast a quick glance at Chris who had paused mid-chew and looked like he might want to spit it out. But his jaw resumed its movements after a moment, and Joey shifted her eyes back to Harding. “We weren’t aware of that detail. But yes.”

  Harding rubbed his scruffy jaw. “It’s not my case, but I’m familiar with the basics. Was she one of yours or something?”

  “Or something,” Joey said. “She was a very dear friend. And there was… more to her than met the eye.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Joey glanced at Chris and he nodded slightly. She took a deep breath. “Naomi was a witch.”

  “I assume you don’t mean for Halloween,” the detective said with a sigh, but took the news in stride. “So, witches are real, eh?”

  “As a heart attack.” Joey’s fingers itched to reach for Chris’s under the table, but she wasn’t sure how that’d be received and wasn’t ready to find out. “But that’s not all. Rachel Ward is one too.”

  He furrowed his brows. “Who?”

  “She’s missing,” Chris said. “They both were, and now Naomi is dead.”

  It didn’t take long for the detective to connect the dots. His face may have been heavily lined, but his mind was still sharp. “You think there’s a connection.”

  “We can’t afford to assume otherwise,” Joey said, toying with her coffee cup. “Two witches from the same coven going missing at the same time is cause for concern. For one to turn up dead… that’s a pattern we don’t want to see repeat.”

  Harding spread his hands. “What do you want me to do about it? Like I said, it’s not my case. And it’s not like I can go to whoever’s on it spouting nonsense about witchcraft.”

  Nibbling her lip again, Joey shook her head. “I don’t know. But we felt like we needed to tell you. The cases might be connected. That’s significant.”

  “Can you review the case notes?” Chris asked. “See if there’s anything that might help us track down whoever did this?”

  Joey tried to shoot him a warning look, but she was too late. Harding was already straightening in his chair.

  “What do you mean ‘us?’ This is a police matter. If you two know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of it.”

  Chris’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, doubling down. “Naomi was a powerful practitioner. Whoever did this didn’t just get the drop on her. It had to be someone, or something, with power. If they managed to take Naomi down, how well do you think you’re going to fare?”

  Harding leaned forward too, eyes narrowing. “Maybe you missed the part where I said this wasn’t my case.”

  God save us if I’m supposed to be the voice of reason…

  “Gentlemen,” Joey said, glancing between them. “We’re all on the same side, here. What Chris is trying to say, detective, is that we can help keep everyone safe—the other witches as well as the authorities—if we’re in the loop on what’s going on.”

  Harding shook his head and pushed back his chair, standing. “What you need to do is stay out of the way. This is an official police investigation, and you don’t want to obstruct it.”

  Joey joined him in standing, frowning so hard her forehead actually hurt. “We’re not trying to obstruct it. We’re trying to enable it. If you can get assigned to the case somehow, we can work toge—”

  “No. No, I’ve had enough of these… supernatural shenanigans. I’ll take a look at the case n
otes and see if the investigators are aware of any sort of link between the two women, and see if there’s anything I can do about that if not, but otherwise I’m staying out of it.” He paused, giving them both a level look. “And so are you two.”

  Joey ground her teeth as he collected his hat and strode away. She dropped into her chair, shoulders slumped. A soft growl escaped her as her wolf stirred, agitated by the swirling emotions inside her. She looked over at Chris with a sigh. “That didn’t go quite like I’d hoped.”

  “Being shut out is starting to become a bit of a theme here, isn’t it?” He shook his head.

  She chuckled, though she felt little humor over the situation. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

  He reached for his sandwich, but mostly toyed with a piece of lettuce hanging off one side. Joey snatched up her coffee and took a long drink, glad it was cool enough. The bitter liquid suited her mood, yet soothed her as it washed over her tongue and slid down her throat.

  “I called Dean,” she said, “to see if he could help us reach out to Naomi.”

  Chris shuddered, his hand falling away from the sandwich once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I hope she’s not still around.”

  “If she is, she might be able to tell us what happened to her.”

  “Nonetheless.” He shook his head. “What did he say? Is he coming?”

  “No, he—we both agreed that it would probably be a good idea if he didn’t until he got things a little more under control.”

  Chris nodded, gazing off across the room thoughtfully.

  “But I have an idea,” Joey said, hoping to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. “I’ve got Lucy digging out that old Ouija board. Remember, the one we used to talk to Roger when he was all murdery?”

  “Hmm.” His brows drew together, eyes lowering. He scraped at something on the edge of the table with his thumbnail, glancing up only briefly. “Dean thinks it’s a good idea?”

  “Would I suggest it if he didn’t?”

  He gave her a level look, and she raised her hands in surrender.

  “Okay, okay. He told me to be careful, that we might attract the attention of other spirits in the area. But we’ve got our anti-possession charms, so what’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Oh, I dunno, they could try to kill us? As you mentioned, Roger was awfully murdery even before you reached out to him. And after, for that matter.”

  Joey flinched, nodding. They’d lost two good wolves that night and were still dealing with the fallout six months later. “Well, do you have a better suggestion? Ethan told us to piss off. Detective Harding wants us to sit on our hands. But one woman is dead, another is missing, and people we love are in jeopardy. We can’t do nothing.” Her hands curled into fists in her lap.

  “You’re right. We can’t do nothing, and we don’t have a lot of options. Let’s give it a try.”

  The knot of tension between her shoulders began to unravel. Silence settled between them for a few moments, broken only by the crinkling of the cellophane as Chris re-wrapped what was left of his sandwich.

  “About last night…” Joey began.

  He pushed back his chair. “One thing at a time, okay?”

  “Okay.” Joey swallowed the lump in her throat. “One thing at a time.”

  She only wished the sentiment didn’t fill her with dread.

  8

  “That one should work,” Chris said, eyeing the big warehouse with the boarded-up windows. “Pull around back.”

  Finding out where Naomi’s body had washed up had taken some time, but they managed to get the intel from one of the local news reports. They’d done a slow drive-by, but there wasn’t any crime scene tape remaining to mark where she’d been found. The choppy black waters of the Sound reflected the light of the waxing moon that thin, sparse clouds passed in front of occasionally. Covered or not, it still sang to Chris. Its power danced in his veins, and his wolf wanted to run despite the lengthy outing he’d had the previous night.

  Easy, boy.

  “Did Dean say what the range on this thing is?” Lucy asked from the back seat, rattling the Ouija board box.

  “It depends on the strength of the spirit. The board is just a tool for communicating with them,” Joey said.

  Lucy made a thoughtful noise. “So, we might have to do this more than once?”

  “Maybe,” Chris said. “We have no idea where Naomi was k—” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. It was still too fresh, too raw. “Where the crime took place.”

  Joey’s hand landed on his thigh, a warm reassuring weight. At least until he remembered he was still angry with her.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise,” she said.

  He didn’t know how she could promise that, but he appreciated the sentiment, so he covered her hand with his while she parked the car. The brush of his skin against hers made his palm warm and his wolf sit up and take notice. His wolf didn’t understand his frustration; all his wolf knew was he liked touching his mate.

  “Roger had a pretty good radius,” Lucy said. “He was able to go between Granite Falls and the city freely.”

  Chris nodded, refraining from pointing out that Roger had been an extremely powerful poltergeist. It was one of those awkward moments where he didn’t know what to hope for… that his friend was at peace, or that she was still around, in range, and lucid enough to help them get to the bottom of what had happened to her.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Joey said, turning off the car.

  They all got out and walked casually toward the back door of the warehouse. A single caged bulb lit the wall beside the door, which bore colorful graffiti.

  “Looks like this is a popular spot,” Lucy said, touching the splintered doorframe.

  Chris nudged her gently to one side of the door so the wall would shield her from whatever lay on the other side, then pushed the door open. Rusty hinges creaked, but there was otherwise no sound from inside. He stood there for a few moments, sharp ears on alert for anything. But other than the distant cry of water fowl, the ever-present hum of city traffic and the nearby power plant, all was quiet.

  Relying on his wolf’s night vision, he moved inside. The place reeked of trash and excrement—both human and rodent, if he wasn’t mistaken. But other than a bit of refuse and signs that someone had recently used it as a shelter, it was just a big empty building.

  “Let’s set up in the center of the floor,” Chris said, muscling down a chuckle when he noticed the way Joey wrinkled her nose. As they walked deeper into the cavernous room, he leaned down to whisper, “Lysol bath when we get home?”

  She snorted. “As if.”

  “I can hear you,” Lucy said. “Keep your kinky sex things to yourself.”

  They cleared away bits of trash and broken-down cardboard boxes to make a space for Lucy to set up. She’d brought a tote bag of what could only be described as occult paraphernalia, along with a collapsible lap tray that she set the board up on.

  Once they lit the candles, placed the crystals to form three corners of a large triangle on the floor, and the Ouija board with its planchette on the table, they all kneeled between the crystals around it.

  “Everyone remember how this works?” Lucy asked.

  “Don’t ask about God, don’t ask where the gold is buried, yada yada.” Joey placed the tips of her fingers on one edge of the planchette. “Let’s get on with it.”

  The golden bangle encircling Joey’s wrist glinted in the candlelight. It was a simple-looking thing, but like Chris’s signet ring it was imbued with powerful magic. As long as it was in contact with her skin, she was protected against possession. Lucy’s charm was a tiny golden barbell piercing her upper ear. He hadn’t seen Lucy without it since Cathy had given it to her, but he checked for it anyway before placing his fingers on the planchette as well.

  “Ready,” he said.

  Lucy positioned her fingers on the planchette too, then closed her eyes for a
moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before beginning. “Naomi Theresa Shaw. We beseech thee, speak to us.”

  Chris met Joey’s eyes briefly across the board. “Beseech?” he mouthed.

  She grinned and bit her lips, eyes sparkling despite their somber task.

  Lucy continued, “Naomi, can you hear us? We seek your wisdom. Please, talk to us. Use this board as your vessel, and tell us you’re here.”

  It felt ridiculous, kneeling on a dirty concrete floor, hoping a dead woman would reach out from the afterlife to move a ridiculous piece of plastic around a cheap cardboard board. But it’d worked in the past, and according to Dean, all you needed to communicate with a spirit was to call their name and provide some means of talking with them. As a medium, of course, Dean could communicate with them directly. Chris had seen spirits on the astral plane, even interacted with them a few times. But even with his anti-possession charm, he was loath to expose himself—his very essence—to potentially hostile spirits if he didn’t have to.

  Seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. Lucy continued to call out to Naomi, but if she was there… she wasn’t answering.

  Chris was about to suggest they try the next location when the planchette twitched under his fingers.

  His eyes snapped to it, then between Lucy and Joey, seeking confirmation that it hadn’t been in his head.

  “Naomi, is that you?” Lucy said.

  The planchette began to move across the board, stopping when it hovered over “Yes.”

  Chris’s mouth went dry. Relief warred with horror. She was there. She was communicating. That meant they could finally get some answers.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he truly wanted them.

  “Naomi,” Joey said. “Is Rachel with you?”

  Good question. They all waited with bated breath until the planchette slid over to “No.”

  “What happened?” Chris asked. “Who killed you?”

  The planchette vibrated briefly, then slid over and stopped on a single character. “?”

  “New spirits don’t always realize they’re dead,” Joey stage-whispered. “I guess the cat is out of the bag now.”