by Isabel Wroth
“He’s passed three separate polygraph tests, met with several deception detection analysts, psychologists specializing in mental disorders, and most recently a psychic. All of them claim the man is telling the truth that he didn’t kill anyone.
“The psychic suggested a vampire might have been involved, so Cheyenne is attempting to create a spell that retrieves memories buried by a thrall induced suggestion. Michael is one of the human interns working here; he volunteered to let Ash make him forget the events of his day, and then subject himself to whatever spell or potion Cheyenne comes up with to recall the memories.”
Maksim made a throaty sound of interest while Kerrigan stood rooted to the spot, her mind whirling like a hamster on a wheel.
“A serial killer is utilizing the thrall to assist him in getting away with his crimes?”
“That’s what the defense attorney believes,” Veda answered with a nod. “Once Cheyenne perfects her method, we’ll find out.”
“Is Ash a new member of the clan?” Maks slipped the question casually.
Thomas made a negative sound, strolling along behind them as the group moved on. “None of your brothers have created progeny, Father. Councilwoman Heidrun brought Ashleigh to us.”
Kerrigan glanced up in time to see the look of open affront on Maksim’s face. “Since when do we employ the council’s progeny?”
Thomas put his hands up in a clear ‘don’t shoot’ position, quickly getting to his explanation.
“We don’t. Ash walked into a police station three years ago with no memory to explain why he had blood all over him and turned himself in, certain he’d committed a murder.
“Lucky for him, the cell he was put in had no windows, and when he went down with the sun, one of the more intelligent police officers contacted the council to come collect Ash.
“They kept him for as long as it took to get him through his fledgling hunger, and then the majority of them were prepared to simply toss him out to fend for himself. Heidrun objected and asked if I would consider taking him on as a personal favor.”
“How nice,” Maksim muttered through gritted teeth.
“I couldn’t in good conscience turn down being owed a favor from the vampire council, and Ash proved himself to be eager for a job. He most often assists Dhiraj with client relations and investigations.”
“Here’s our library,” Veda announced, and the subject changed from anonymously created vampires to the treasure trove of powerful information.
In awe, Kerrigan let her gaze roam over the floor to ceiling shelves that filled the room, the wide tables with antique lamps and comfortable chairs for hours of research placed at regular intervals.
It smelled like old leather, wood polish, and antique paper. The sheer number of rare books in one room, the knowledge…
Kerrigan couldn’t believe it. “This is amazing!”
“We’re very proud of our collection,” Veda told her genuinely.
“Money well spent, I say,” Thomas agreed. “I believe you have an entire section dedicated to Summoning, Veda?”
The young woman gave an eager nod, leading the way to a line of floating shelves in the center of the room.
“These four shelves here on both sides are all for our Summoners.”
Kerrigan tilted her head to read a few of the names on the book spines. “Do you have many Summoners on the payroll?”
“Just two,” Veda confided. “We don’t yet have much call for their talents beyond reacquiring lost objects. Neither of them have your ability when it comes to summoning spirits. If you don’t mind me asking, what sort of project are you working on?”
Kerrigan smiled at the flattering tone Veda used, wondering if Thomas had broached the subject of Kerrigan joining the team.
“I’m actually searching for a lost object myself, but every time I go to look for it, this nasty spirit pops up and does its level best to distract me. If I’m to move forward, I need to make one hell of a spirit trap.”
“Fascinating!” Veda declared, her eyes lighting with curiosity. “Would you mind terribly if I took notes? My talents lie in Ceremonial Magic, but it would be of great interest to learn to properly trap a spirit.”
“Sure, there’s not much to it, but I’m happy to share what I know.”
“Awesome!” Veda declared, momentarily forgetting she was a department head in favor of acting like an excited young witch.
She seemed to realize her little slip in front of the boss and visibly collected herself.
“Well, here comes Camilla with the report you requested, Mr. Gray.”
Kerrigan looked over her shoulder to see a short, plump young woman with a very librarian-esque air about her marching purposefully toward them with a thick packet of files tucked under her arm.
Camilla gave Thomas a nod of acknowledgment and a respectful little, “M.”
“Miss Howe,” Thomas replied kindly. “This is my sire, Maksim Gray, and his Bride, Kerrigan.”
Camilla smiled at them in greeting, offering Maksim her bundle of files with an efficient recounting of what she’d found.
“The indecent report and subsequent investigation into Mr. Van Horn’s death are the file on top, including all personal information, and I pulled the last ten cases he worked before his unfortunate demise.”
Maksim took the stack with an appreciative sound. “Very good. Thank you, Camilla.”
“Certainly, sir,” Camilla answered, a slight flush on her cheeks.
Veda cleared her throat gently when Camilla lingered. “That will be all, Camilla. I’ll see you in the morning. Have Noah call a car for you.”
The intern took her leave with a quiet nod, but Kerrigan didn’t miss the way Camilla gave a happy little hop and a skip when she thought no one was looking. Too cute.
“Let’s see if we have the items you need for your spirit trap,” Veda invited, leading the way through the library, down the hall, and into the most gloriously stocked pantry in the history of pantries.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The herbs in glass candy jars were organized alphabetically. Flutes of incense by usage and discipline sat in rows above bowls of crystals and gems organized by color. Bags of every type of salt a witch might need sat on a shelf above glass decanters labeled neatly with the type of water within. Rosewater charged by the light of a full moon, rainwater collected on a dark moon, Florida water freshly made yesterday, saltwater, holy water.
There were even jars of dirt, from brick dust to graveyard dirt, and pots of seashells, moss, feathers, and smudge sticks to represent physical elements.
Baskets chock full of bottles, jars, boxes, and bowls. Divination tools, maps, charts, charcoal, wax, and candles.
Work tables with an array of mortar and pestles in different sizes, special holders for spellbooks or tablets ran the length of the room.
“Hecate’s tits,” Kerrigan breathed in awe, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “This is heaven.”
Veda smiled wide, offering Kerrigan an empty basket.
“I feel the same.”
Just as she was about to begin collecting what she needed, Kerrigan noticed a shelf of the rarest of the rare.
“Holy crap! Where did you get powdered dragon scales? And… no! No way! Crystallized smokeless fire from a Djinn?”
“Ladies,” Maksim rumbled with an amused smile. “Thomas and I will step out into the hall to discuss business matters.”
Kerrigan nodded absently. “Uh hu, sure. I’ve got to take a selfie and send it to Callie. She’ll shit a broomstick.”
Thomas coughed to disguise his laughter, but Maksim wasn’t so taciturn.
“Eloquent as ever, love. Take your time.”
“All the times,” Kerrigan repeated, having just lifted her phone to snap a selfie when he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Ooh, cute!”
Kerrigan showed it to him, her eyes flared wide in a dramatic grin with her finger pointed at the ground dragon scales, his lips just barely in the
shot.
Before Maks could tell her to delete it, she quickly fired it off in a group text to the coven.
“Kerrigan.”
“What? You can’t even tell it’s you. I’m keeping it.” Kerrigan defiantly hugged the phone to her chest, daring him to tell her no.
Maksim tried to look stern, but with the warmth in his gaze and the twitching of his lips, he failed dismally. “Don’t you have a discussion on Mastery of the Universe out in the hall?”
“Apparently so.” Maks snorted, shaking his head as he waved at Thomas to precede him out the door.
“You really have one hell of a pantry,” Kerrigan told Veda as soon as the glass doors shut behind the boys.
“There’s an alchemist in my coven who would give her left boob to have such easy access to powdered dragon scales and crystallized Djinn smoke.”
“M spares no expense on our department,” Veda replied with ringing praise for the boss man. “I hear it was Mr. Van Horn who came up with the idea to utilize three extremely rare ingredients for the higher-level security spells.
"All the bank vaults in the city secured by an Armistice witch are unbreakable because not just anyone can get a hold of things like yeti adrenal glands or tears of Kharybdis. They’re so rare and unheard of, any thief with magical talent wouldn’t even recognize the ingredients or think to use them.”
“Quentin clearly had it going on.” Kerrigan noticed Veda making a list of all the items Kerrigan chose for her spirit bottle. The bottle itself was thick and round, with a wide mouth to easily stick stuff inside it.
“Trapping a malevolent spirit is different from storing a ghost in a bottle like a Djinn—although I’m sure you know it’s never a good idea to trap a Djinn.”
Veda gave a serious nod and hiked her glasses back up her nose.
“I do. Nasty business, trapping a magical being with the sort of power a Djinn has. Why the magnetic sand?”
Kerrigan carefully poured a fair amount of the black sand into the bottle, careful not to make a mess.
“Ghosts of any kind are essentially a cloud of electromagnetic energy. Once trapped inside the bottle, the sand will act sort of like a ball and chain, ensuring he or she can’t escape.
“A lodestone would work, but when you’ve got a really nasty ghost, the more particles there are to stick to it, the better. Graveyard dirt is a secondary binder, and I’ll use a piece of silk chord to tie the binding spell in place. With every knot I make, it’ll be that much stronger.
“I’m not quite ready to put the spirit inside yet, but when I do, I’ll melt some wax to seal the cork—enough to cover the entire top of the bottle—and mix in some marigold, mugwort, clove, and more graveyard dirt.
"The wax seal will need to be thick because I’ll inscribe binding sigils in the top and write them across the outside of the bottle in a permanent marker.
“You never want to etch into the glass because that weakens the glass itself, and over time the ghost could widen the crack and bust out. Make sure you’re also dipping the cork in wax before you stop up the bottle to create a seal inside as well as out.”
Veda dutifully wrote that all down on her notepad. “And if the spirit isn’t malevolent? Perhaps simply annoying?”
“Then I’d do a general cleansing of the place it’s annoyingly haunting, and leave it at that. If the cleansing doesn’t work, then I’d put warding up to repel the ghost from entering the space and utilizing a spirit trap as a last resort.”
“You bastard!” The bellow came out of nowhere, loud enough to make her and Veda both jump.
Kerrigan looked out the door in time to see Thomas leap back, plastering himself against the door as files and paper flew through the air, and a black blur hit Maksim, snatching him out of sight.
“What the hell!” Kerrigan shrieked, running for the door just as Thomas opened it and stepped back inside with his cell pressed to his ear.
“Get back! Stay inside!” Thomas shouted over what sounded like two bulls busting through a china shop.
“Twelve years, you prissy arsed cunt! Not a word for twelve fucking years!” The impact of two vampires hitting the floor caused Kerrigan to actually bounce and totter on her heels, stunned by the sight of her smartly dressed mate rolling around in a tangle of arms and legs with the biggest male she’d ever seen in her life.
The other guy had on a black tee and matching fatigues, his wild mop of auburn hair hiked back in a man-bun.
His entire body was one big hulking muscle, and he was using all his might to pound Maksim to a pulp.
Hurling both fists and vicious insults, Maks seemed to be giving as good as he got, but the blows he landed looked about as effective as a rolled-up newspaper against a rabid, snapping Rottweiler.
“Kerrigan, stay out of the way—” Thomas advised, peeking out like a coward from behind the safety of the pantry door.
“Stay out of the way? Are you insane?” she yelled, waving her arms at the deathmatch happening right in front of her. “DO SOMETHING!”
Thomas waved a placating hand at her. “Security is on their way with the tranquilizers, but it’s best to just let them handle this. Hector isn’t going to do any lasting damage—”
“I’ll rip yer goddamn head off, and when I’m done, I’ll shove it straight up yer arse!” Hector had his blood-smeared hands around Maksim’s throat, squeezing with enough force to make Maksim’s eyes bulge, and his battered face turn purple.
Vampires didn’t need to breathe to survive, and somewhere in the back of her mind Kerrigan knew this, but over the sounds of fighting, she heard a loud crunch.
From one blink to the next, color disappeared as everything in sight became veiled in shades of gray and white.
Shadows deepened, the light sharpened, and power flooded her veins with a crackling surge. The need for spells and incantations became obsolete as dark, sinister magic filled her up and chased away all the light inside her.
The darkness gave the gift of cold, icy logic, allowing her to react quickly and without a hint of remorse.
Hector couldn’t strangle Maks or tear his head off if every bone in his hands were shattered.
Kerrigan didn’t always use her left hand, but when she did, shit got real.
The grotesque sound of bones breaking followed by a howl of agony was music to her ears. Another flourish of her wrist jerked Hector up off Maksim, sending him flying back past her to hang suspended in the air, his arms and legs spread in a wide X.
Hector roared like a trapped lion, his body bucking back and forth as he fought to throw off the chains of magic holding him in place.
He tossed his head with enough force to shake his hair loose, and had she not been in uber bitch mode, Kerrigan might have appreciated how the thick waves softened his craggy face.
“You cunting, demon-eyed bitch! PUT ME DOWN!” As angry as he was, the thick Scottish accent Hector spoke with made his offensive demands rather sexy.
“Hello, Hector,” she answered, hearing the complete lack of emotion in her own voice. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Kerrigan.”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, cunt! I swear, when I get free, I’ll—”
Kerrigan twisted her hand just a bit, causing Hector’s left arm to dislocate from his shoulder, interrupting what was no doubt about to be an impressive threat.
“I don’t like that word, Hector, and I really don’t like it when someone takes their fists to my man.”
She was dimly aware of the armed men who hustled down the corridor from both ends but couldn’t find it in her to care.
If they touched Maksim, they’d be over the balcony before Hector could shout ‘BOO!’
A warm breath caressed her throat as gentle hands slid up over her hips to settle on her waist.
“Easy, love. It’s alright; you can put Hector down.”
“Why should I?” she asked, frowning when a distracting flicker of color flashed through her vision.
Maksim kiss
ed her shoulder, his fingers pushing her shirt up to touch the bare skin of her waist.
The grayscale of her vision wavered again, but Kerrigan wasn’t finished. Hector wasn’t nearly in enough pain.
“While I have your attention, Hector, what did you do with Maksim’s ruby tie pin and the cufflinks he kept in his safe? They’re missing, and they’re very important to me.”
“Ruby tie… what? I’ve nae idea what yer bloody talking about!” Hector snarled, twisting and snapping his fangs like he could bite through the invisible chains holding him.
Maks distracted her with another soft kiss to her temple. “Don’t worry about the rubies right now, my love. We’ll find them. You don’t need to hurt Hector; he wasn’t actually going to rip my head off.”
“The fuck I wasnae!” Hector roared, bouncing and kicking his legs as much as he could. “Who the hell is this demon whore, and who the fuck let her through security? I swear tae Christ, you little cunt, I will gut ye and use yer entrails tae string up that puny bastard hiding behind ye!”
“I take it back. Break his legs, love,” Maks ordered with a smile, and Kerrigan obliged.
After the echo of his shouts died down, Hector gnashed his teeth and quit fighting Kerrigan’s hold, glaring at her with such heat it was a wonder she didn’t catch fire.
“I can do this all day,” she informed Hector coldly. “Or, you can apologize for attacking my mate and calling me the C-word, and I won’t crush every bone in your body.”
“Are ye just going tae stand there all day and let this… this witch do this tae me in me own house, brother? Shoot the bitch already, Virico!” Hector hollered, and from somewhere behind her, Kerrigan heard Virico give an outrageous laugh.
“I am most definitely not going to shoot Maksim’s Bride, Hector. But I am going to take pictures of my mammoth-sized brother being so thoroughly spanked by a girl. There’s a lot of bones under all that meat—”
“Two hundred and six of them,” Kerrigan pointed out, twitching her pinkie just so to pop a few of Hector’s toes out of place. He flinched and snarled like a rabid werewolf.