by Lori Drake
But neither of their murders was going to be solved with internet sleuthing, so I packed up after another hour or so and made ready for a trip into town. Unfortunately, the moment I stepped out of the house, the spirits outside crowded around me like spectral paparazzi. Trish did her best to intervene, but there were over a dozen of them. No sooner had she pushed one back did another slip into its place. A few of them pleaded for help, but most of them seemed to want to be close to me—to touch me. Their hands tugged at my sleeves, pressed against my back and shoulders. One even yanked my hair.
I lost my forward momentum as they mobbed me, stalled halfway across the lawn at the center of a writhing mass of lost souls.
“Back off,” I said, swatting at their cold, clammy hands. “Back off!” My heart pounded. I knew I could make them go away. I’d done it before. Not consciously, but… I’d done it. I just didn’t want Trish to get caught in the crossfire again. I searched frantically amongst the dead for a glimpse of her. “Trish!”
Her voice came from behind me. “I’m here.”
I felt her then, a presence at my back, fending off the ones behind me as best she could. “Get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you to the wolves!”
I almost laughed. Wolves were much easier to deal with. Hell, I lived with seven of them.
I’m not claustrophobic, but something about being trapped in a circle of the dead put my dander up. I felt the power inside me rising along with my panic. It was cold, like ice water spreading through my veins. I clenched my hands into fists in an effort to control myself, but the outcome seemed inevitable. One way or another, these spirits were going back to the spirit world.
I choked out a final warning, mostly to Trish, but I wouldn’t have been disappointed if anyone else took it. “If you don’t want to be banished, you need to go. Now!”
Trish didn’t answer, but I felt her vanish behind me with an awareness of her that’d never been quite so keen. In fact, I could sense them all in that moment, all twenty-six spirits ringing me. A few of them followed Trish’s lead and vanished, presumably returning to the spirit world of their own accord.
I gave them a few more seconds, then took a deep breath and expelled it in a rush. The pent-up energy released in a powerful pulse that physically knocked the ring of spirits back a fraction of a second before they vanished entirely. I turned in a slow circle, looking around. I’d done it. They were gone.
My elation was dampened by the bone-deep chill that set my whole body to shaking. My heart no longer pounded. If anything, it’d slowed. I felt sluggish and tired. Trish reappeared in front of me, but her broad smile melted away and a look of concern rose in its place. The world spun slowly, and I felt myself falling.
I was out before I hit the ground.
13
I returned to consciousness slowly to find myself shivering under a pile of blankets, familiar voices speaking in hushed tones nearby.
“Ben’s on his way. He says to do what we can to warm him up,” Chris said.
“Should we start a fire?” Joey—a friend and Chris’s girlfriend—asked.
“A hot water bottle might be better. I think there’s one upstairs.”
“Wait, I think he’s coming around. Dean?” Joey leaned over me, looking down with concerned brown eyes.
Chris stepped into view beside her, wearing a hesitant smile. “Welcome back, man.”
I glanced around, finding myself on the couch in the living room. Trish was perched on the arm of the couch near my head. She leaned down and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I passed out again, didn’t I?” I mumbled, huddling into the covers a bit.
“Yup,” Trish said.
“Again?” Joey and Chris said, in unison.
I had no ready answer for either of them, so I sighed and snaked a hand out from under the blankets to rub my face.
Joey sat on the edge of the couch beside me. “What do you mean, again? What happened?”
“It’s nothing.” I started to sit up.
She pushed me back down with a hand on my chest and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t bullshit us, Dean. We’ve been through too much together. What’s going on?”
I sighed again and closed my eyes. Joey had been a client once, but she and Chris had both become good friends. And we had, indeed, been through a lot together.
“Tell them,” Trish said.
I felt a hand stroking my hair, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t Joey’s or Chris’s. Opening my eyes confirmed it. I met Trish’s eyes, upside down from this angle, and nodded slightly. When I looked back at Joey and Chris, they were both watching me carefully.
“There’s a spirit here, isn’t there?” Chris said.
I nodded and he groaned. A quiet chuckle escaped me. “Don’t worry, it’s a friendly one.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Joey said.
“I’m not sure how,” I admitted.
Chris dropped into a crouch, coming down to my level. “Start at the beginning?”
I told them everything, starting with Sadie’s owner and ending with me passing out on the front lawn after banishing two dozen spirits in one fell swoop. I even told them about Trish—though I omitted certain personal details that were both irrelevant and none of their business. By the time I finished, I was warm enough to peel back a couple layers of blanket and pull myself up into a sitting position. Trish curled up behind me, leaning against my back. She hadn’t said a peep while I was explaining things.
“So,” Joey said, not taking long to digest what I’d told them. “You’re clearly manifesting new abilities. The question is why. You said it started the day you got back from Nevada, right?”
“Yeah, but Trish thinks it started before that, that it’s been getting stronger.”
Chris tilted his head. “How much before that?”
I shrugged. “She’s not sure. Maybe while we were in Nevada?”
The two Alphas exchanged a glance, then looked at me again.
“What?” I asked, feeling like I was missing something.
“Did it start while you were a ‘guest’ of the Eastgate Coven?” Chris spoke as if choosing his words carefully.
I glanced over my shoulder, unable to see more than the top of Trish’s dark head the way she was curled against my back. “Trish?” I said, since I’d never really gotten a clear answer out of her about that.
“Yes,” she said softly.
I relayed the answer, and once again the two werewolves exchanged a significant glance that left me in the dark. I didn’t mind so much, because Trish’s behavior nagged at me. “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, twisting to try and glimpse her face.
She tipped her head and looked up at me. “What do you remember about your meeting with Marcus Madrigal?”
I frowned. “What meeting? I never met the guy.”
She lifted a brow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Dean?” Joey said. “What’s she saying?”
I turned back to Joey and Chris, glancing between them. “She’s implying that I met Madrigal, but I didn’t. Unless he was in disguise or something.” I looked over my shoulder again. “Was he in disguise?”
I felt more than saw Trish shrug. “One of his minions escorted you to his office. I had to wait outside. The room had… protections. Impenetrable walls.”
I twisted, all but knocking Joey off the couch in my haste to turn around. Trish retreated to sit on the arm of the couch again, no trace of regret on her face. Anger welled within me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I fought to keep my voice level.
“Because I didn’t know anything bad had happened. My concern was that he might’ve brainwashed you, but you seemed like yourself when you came back, and a few hours later, you were rescued. Since then… I guess it never came up.”
“Bullshit.” I jabbed a finger at her. “You’ve been cagey ever since the spirits started acting weird. Every time I brought it up, you brushed m
e off or got upset.”
A spark of anger flared in her eyes, and she clicked her tongue piercing against her teeth as she folded her arms. “Forgive me for not having the answer to your every problem, Dean Torres.”
“Um, Dean?” Joey’s polite inquiry reminded me that we had an audience.
I shot Trish a “this isn’t over” look and counted to ten, then relayed the information I’d just learned.
Chris’s expression took an uncharacteristically grim turn. “What she said about an impenetrable wall makes sense. His office was one of the rooms at the compound warded against spirits. As for the rest… He must’ve wiped the meeting from your memory.”
A chill went down my spine, tempering the heat of my anger somewhat. “I knew he had mind control magic, but a magical memory wipe? That’s possible?” I glanced between them.
“Mind magic was his specialty. We can’t rule it out,” Joey said.
My mind was spinning, but at least all the excitement had gotten my blood pumping again. I was nice and toasty warm under the remaining blankets. “So, he put some sort of spell on me that turned me into a ghost magnet.”
“I don’t think so,” Chris said. “I mean, if attracting ghosts were the only thing going on, that would make sense. But it’s not. You’ve also gained some control over them. The ability to banish them, at least.”
Joey nodded. “It sounds more like he unlocked some sort of potential for spirit-related magic you didn’t know you had. Have you talked to Cathy about this?”
I shook my head. “She’s been sick, and I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”
Joey frowned, forehead wrinkling. “Sick? Oh no.” She took Chris’s hand. “We should stop by and see if there’s anything she needs.”
I threw off the last of the blankets. “Well, either way… he’s dead now. I’ll just have to deal with this as it comes.” I stood, ignoring the concerned looks of living and dead alike. Now that the chill had faded, I felt fine—physically, anyway. Invigorated, even. There wasn’t a trace of the headaches that’d plagued me the first two times I’d used my power. I popped my neck and rolled my shoulders.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a murder to solve.”
14
Trish trailed me all the way to the Jeep. “Dean, we should talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” I climbed in and slammed the door shut, but that didn’t stop her voice from reaching me.
“I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve said something.”
I started the engine. “Just leave me alone for now. I need to think.”
She pressed a hand to the window. “Dean—”
“Just go!” I snapped. “Before I make you.”
She vanished, and that tingle of awareness I’d come to associate with her presence went with her. I immediately felt like an asshole. I wouldn’t have banished her, at least I didn’t think so. But she’d believed it, and I wasn’t so blinded by anger that I didn’t regret hurting her.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly into the empty car, but I didn’t call her back.
The drive out to Redmond was quiet and uneventful. It gave me a lot of time to think. What had Madrigal done to me? Had he really unlocked some power that’d been dormant all along? Why hadn’t Trish said something about it? I didn’t buy her claim that I seemed fine and it just slipped her mind, but I didn’t know what it meant, either. It was hard to believe she’d done it for selfish reasons. What did that leave? I wasn’t sure.
It was almost noon when I pulled up outside the Lee’s ranch-style suburban home. It was a manicured house in a manicured neighborhood, nothing particularly distinct. I triple-checked the house number and compared it to my notes before heading up the driveway. An itch between my shoulder blades prompted me to stop along the way and take another look around, but I didn’t see anyone except a jogger with a dog moving off down the sidewalk across the street. Was that where the odd feeling of being watched had come from?
I shook it off and continued to the front door. The woman who answered the bell looked like an older version of Kim Lee, and I felt a keen flash of empathy for the young life cut short.
“Mrs. Lee?” I asked, to keep up appearances.
“Yes…” There was a hesitance to her, an uncertainty in her eyes as she peeked at me from behind the partially open door.
I smiled gently, not wanting to spook her. “My name’s Dean Torres. I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to speak with me about your daughter.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No reporters.”
I saw the door begin to close in time to throw up a hand and hold it open. “I’m not a reporter, ma’am. I’m a private investigator.” It was only a lie in that I wasn’t licensed. Otherwise, the job description rather suited me, and it was a cover I was accustomed to using when approaching a new client. Claiming to be a medium off the bat was more likely to get the door slammed. And besides, I wasn’t in contact with her daughter.
“Who do you work for?” she asked, peering at me with mistrustful eyes.
“My client was Mindi Masterson. The second victim.”
That gave her pause, but she didn’t rush to invite me in. “We’ve told the police everything we know.” Her words were clipped, annoyance rising to the fore.
“I understand, and I’m sorry to bother you in your time of grief. I just have a few questions. Please, ma’am. I’m trying to make sure what happened to Kim and Mindi doesn’t happen to anyone else’s daughter.”
After hesitating a few seconds more, she opened the door and motioned me inside. I wiped my feet on the doormat more out of habit than anything—some of my mother’s lessons stuck with me longer than others—and stepped across the threshold.
“Please remove your shoes.” Mrs. Lee pointed at a wooden shoe rack at the edge of the tiled foyer. I did as she instructed and placed my shoes on the rack before following her into the living room. It was a tidy space with plush carpet and modern decor, lots of solid colors and square edges.
She settled on the edge of a low-backed armchair and gestured at the matching couch. “How is it you think I can help, Mr. Torres?”
“Dean, if you please.” I sat, keeping my jacket on. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be a long interview. “Do you know if the police have any leads?”
She snorted and folded her arms. Maybe her annoyance at the door hadn’t been directed at me. “The police are idiots. We told them who did it.”
“Oh?” I arched a brow.
“Yes. And what did they do? Nothing. Now another woman is dead and they have no one to blame but themselves.”
“That’s troubling,” I said, though I was certain they’d done their due diligence to rule the guy out. She seemed pretty certain, though. I took out my phone and prepared to take notes. “So, who did it?”
“Kyle Meadows.” Her dark eyes glittered angrily. “He’s a real piece of work. She had a restraining order against him, but what good did it do? None.”
I hazarded a guess. “Ex-boyfriend?” She nodded, and I made a note of it. “How long did they date?”
“A few months. But he was no good. I always had a bad feeling about him, you know? Mother’s intuition.” She tapped her temple. “She tried to cover up for him, but I saw the bruises.”
Not just an ex, but an abusive ex. I took a deep breath and made myself focus on the case and not the outrage that revelation had evoked. “So, I assume she’s the one who broke up with him. How long ago was that?”
“A couple of weeks before she…” Mrs. Lee lowered her eyes, an emotional struggle playing out on her face. But when she lifted them again, they were hard. “Before he killed her.”
“What makes you think so? Did he threaten her?”
“Yes. He came here one night, a Sunday. She always came home for Sunday dinner. Such a good girl.” She paused, looking toward the fireplace. Photos of smiling people in silver frames lined it. Mrs. Lee drew a deep breath and expelled it in a sigh. “Anyway, he came to the house. I
told her to stay inside, that we should call the police. But she went out to try and reason with him. He—” She closed her eyes. “He grabbed her by the throat and choked her, calling her names, yelling loud enough that the whole neighborhood could hear. He said he’d kill her. That if he couldn’t have her, no one could.”
I forgot I was supposed to be taking notes, completely caught up in the tale. I wanted to grab Kyle Meadows by the throat and say a few choice words, myself.
Mrs. Lee wiped away tears and went on. “My husband called the police, but by the time they got here, Kyle was gone. Kim refused to press charges, but that was the night she decided to get a restraining order.”
“He sounds like a deeply disturbed man,” I said. It was way nicer than what I was thinking. Trust me.
“She said he was rather nice when he wasn’t drinking. My husband says that a drunken man is his truer self than a sober man. I don’t know if that’s true, but I know Kyle showed his true colors that night.” She leaned over to retrieve a tissue from the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes.
“That sounds terrible. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lee.”
She nodded, sniffling softly. “He was relentless. Even after the restraining order.”
“Did Kim report him for violating the restraining order?” Everything I heard about this guy made me want to punch his teeth in.
“She tried, but there was no proof. Not even after she changed the locks.”
The hair on my arms stood up. “Back up a minute. What exactly did he do?”
“He let himself into her apartment, sometimes when she wasn’t home, sometimes when she was asleep. Like he couldn’t resist his favorite game.” Shaking her head, she gripped the tissue tightly in one fist.
“Let me guess, her personal items started moving around of their own accord?”