Forty, Fabulous and Fae Page 9

  This was it. I could feel it. I was going to solve this case tonight.

  14

  Thankfully, I had the keys to my mom’s Mustang in my back pocket, so I didn’t have to go inside and tell her where I was going. Call me crazy, but I don’t think she would have been totally on board with me going to the crime scene of one of their friend’s murders, while putting myself in harm’s way.

  My heart sank as I realized that they did, in fact, have another dead friend. I wondered who it was, which one of the faces in those ten photos I’d found in the bookshop was no longer in the land of the living?

  I really hoped it wasn’t the owner of the bookstore. Theodosia. She may have said some weird things to me, and called out my energy, but she had kind eyes.

  They all did.

  The address Hunter had texted me was actually one I didn’t recognize, which was surprising considering I’d grown up here, and prided myself on knowing every nook and cranny of Portland. Though, I suppose that was a hard thing to do when I hadn’t lived here in over fifteen years. The modern world had changed the city I knew and loved and twisted it into something unrecognizable.

  It was almost funny, in a way, that when I was a barely grown woman, all I’d wanted was to get out of this slow northern town, to venture out on my own and explore the world. I probably would have given my left arm to have Portland the way it was today. But now, I was so far off from that naive little girl, I might as well have been a totally different person.

  Even among all of the magic and craziness, Portland was where I belonged. With Mom and Grams, near the sea and under the cloudy, rainy skies. I was supposed to be here. And I probably should have never left.

  Maybe I would have discovered my powers earlier, if I’d stayed. Maybe my life would have turned out completely differently. Or, maybe not. I was so hot headed at twenty-one that it was completely possible I would have just cut Mom and Grams out of my life, so angry with the betrayal I ran off to Boston anyhow.

  Who knew? I supposed I probably shouldn’t dwell too much on the past, though.

  The address Hunter had given me, 2374 Acorn Rd., was clear across town and way outside of it, out into the fields and forests of the farmers and hippies. I turned down an old dirt road, surrounded by trees, and shivered when the sun fell away, covered by branches and leaves.

  The house was at the very end of the street, all alone, secluded, and set back from the world around it. Admittedly, it was the perfect place for a murder. The killer probably thought no one would find the body for days.

  I wondered for a second who had called it in, but my thoughts quickly turned to other, more important things as I put the car in park.

  First and foremost was the fact that there was not a single cop in sight. A worried, unsettled feeling landed in my stomach, but I pushed it aside. Maybe Hunter’s friend in the department had made sure the scene was cleared for us before Hunter called me down there, so we could have as much freedom to explore the crime scene as possible.

  I got out of the car, detritus and tree bark crunching under the old sneakers I’d thrown on that morning, and glanced around. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Even the wild animals had disappeared. Whereas the woods around Portland normally teemed with squirrels, rabbits, and even a deer or two, the ones near me were awfully quiet, as if all of the wildlife had run from this place.

  As I approached the porch, I could see that the old, rundown red front door was closed tight. One of the little windows had been shattered, which I assumed was how the killer had managed to get inside in the first place.

  I grabbed onto one of the old wooden support beams as I stepped onto the porch, and all of a sudden, the world around me melted away as I was transported into a vision.

  I hadn’t been expecting it, but at least this time, I didn’t panic and freak out the way I had when I’d seen Muriel’s death. Instead, I was almost fascinated, in a bit of a sick way. I had the ability to see things that most other people didn’t. If I wasn’t so freaked out about all of the other issues that surrounded me at the moment, I think I could have found it sort of cool, actually.

  The room that formed around me looked older, from a different time. I was in a kitchen, behind a long wooden table. The refrigerator wasn’t modern at all, but instead looked World War II era.

  There was a woman with me. She was beautiful, and young, maybe mid-twenties, with fire engine red hair and bright green eyes that flashed with an excited amazement.

  She looked like my Grams.

  There was another figure there, too, a horridly evil looking being. I could only see its back, though, as it descended upon the woman like death.

  “Well, he wasn’t human,” it was saying.

  The woman conjured up a fireball and laid a hand flat over her stomach.

  “Laslow was like me.” The creature barked the words, but I could tell he relished them, that each syllable rolling off his tongue was like a good glass of wine at the end of a very long day.

  Wait. Laslow. That had been the name Grams had used, the name of my grandfather.

  The name of the man who had given me his fae powers.

  My eyes popped open. It was my Grams.

  The second that realization washed over me, though, the vision disappeared, replaced with the tattered front porch of the witch’s house.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d just seen, but it sent me into a twisting spiral of wonder.

  Was it possible that Laslow was alive? Could I find him?

  The creak of the rickety wooden beams underneath my feet brought me back to earth, and I remembered that I was in the middle of an investigation. My questions could wait until I’d had a chance to get home and see Grams, then tell her all about my vision.

  I took another step forward, but a vision flashed before my eyes. It was quick, less than a second. The flash was so fast I almost thought I was imagining things, save for the fact that I knew I didn’t have a good enough imagination to conjure up the image I’d just seen.

  There was a man, tall and handsome, with well-developed muscles and flowing, white blonde hair. He was dirty, and wore a tattered set of brown pants and no shirt at all. He’d been chained to a mossy stone wall in what looked like a jail cell, and seated underneath a window with uneven, criss-crossing bars over it.

  The reason I knew I couldn’t have imagined it, though, was because of what I saw outside that window. A beautiful, majestic mountain, with grass as blue as the sky, and a waterfall that flowed down the center that looked like it was made out of pure fire.

  There was no way I could have imagined that image.

  “Come back,” I murmured to myself, attempting to fall back into the vision. The words were strangled and desperate, but my mind had fled and landed in another world.

  I was torn. My emotions were so turbulent that I couldn’t pick out one from the other. But I just felt this pull toward what I saw. Was it another world? Hidden within my world? A parallel dimension?

  Whatever it was, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was meant to be a part of it. Some of me was from that world, and I desperately needed to know how to get there.

  With even more sureness, though, I knew I needed to get to that cell, and save that man. Because I was pretty darn sure he was my grandfather.

  The vision didn’t return to me, though, and I was still standing on a porch in the middle of the woods with absolutely nobody around.

  I’d been expecting a whole parade of people. That was how our crimes scenes looked back in Boston. But, at the very least, I thought there would be at least one person there.

  And Hunter. Where was he? I didn’t see a car--not that I even knew what car he drove.

  What if the killer had hurt him? Or worse? I knew now that I was dealing with a supernatural murderer.

  I felt sick. I launched myself over the next step and dashed across the porch, pushing open the front door with all my might. I may not have kno
wn how to use my magic well, or at all, really, but if something was wrong with Hunter, if someone was hurting him, then I needed to try.

  I wasn’t even sure why, exactly. There were all these feelings swirling around inside me that I didn’t like, and sure as heck didn’t want to think about. All I could focus on were those wonderful gray eyes and that strange, lopsided smile he gave freely to anyone who needed it. If the witch murderer was on the loose and wanted to get to me, it would be easy to go after Hunter. He was just a human, after all. He had no magical defenses to ward off evil, no way to save himself.

  “Hunter!” I called out, my voice bordering on desperate as I entered the run-down cabin.

  I turned to my left and saw a kitchen.

  Wait. I recognized that kitchen. It was the same one from my vision with Grams. It was about sixty five years older, and far more rundown, and a complete mess, but I knew it was the same one.

  This was the cabin she’d been in. This was where she’d confronted that evil, hulking figure when she was…

  Well, I didn’t know just what she was doing. But she’d clearly been scared.

  A thousand thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to figure out what this could mean. Had a witch taken over this cabin and lived here? Was anyone really dead?

  Or had this been a way to lure Hunter out here, knowing that I’d come after him.

  Frantically, I spun around to a big, empty room that I guessed was meant to be the living room. There was a brick fireplace built into the far wall, but the inside was so full of cobwebs I could tell it hadn’t been used in ages. There was nothing else in the room but a thick layer of dust, lit by the dusky sunshine that filtered through the old windows.

  I stepped past the threshold of the room, not even looking down to notice the thin white line of salt that trailed from one end of the doorway to the next.

  “Hunter?” I called, softly now.

  I didn’t know why, but that pit in my stomach had widened and grown, until it felt like it was big enough to swallow the entire world in a dark blanket of doom.

  15

  I glanced into all of the corners of the living room, just in case, but it was totally and completely empty. My heart had started to pound, but not in a good way, like when you meet a new friend or go on a date with a guy.

  This pounding was a dark, dull thudding that played my ribcage like a drum set, beating off a rhythm that intensified with every passing second.

  I needed to get out of there. I’d get in my car and call Hunter from the road. Hopefully he’d answer, and I’d realize I went to the wrong address, or did something else equally foolish.

  But if he didn’t answer… I didn’t know what I would do, actually.

  I rushed back toward the doorway, but when I tried to step over the threshold, I was thrown back, violently, by some sort of invisible force. My back slammed against the ground so hard the wind was knocked out of me, and I spluttered and coughed as I tried to regain my breath. The dust was in my hair, my nose, my eyes, my mouth, but I couldn’t even focus on that. All I could think about was the fact that I hadn’t been able to leave.

  Coughing, I forced myself to stand back up, and glared at the doorway.

  Then, I tried it again. I strode forward purposefully, planning to trick the doorway into thinking I was completely calm, and then—

  BAM!

  This time, an explosion of sparks accompanied my rather ungraceful fall to the floor. I saw stars when I slammed to the ground, knocking my head against the hard edge of the bottom of the fireplace.

  “What?” I spluttered. I regained my breath and forced myself to my feet a second time. “Is this some sort of magic cage, or something?”

  I didn’t even know if that was a thing. I realized, for the first time, how wildly out of my depth I was. What the hell had I been thinking, wandering into a supernatural crime scene where all manner of terrible beings could have gotten to me? I was the definition of insanity.

  But, insane or not, I still needed to get the hell out of this room.

  Squinting, I glanced at the window. I could shatter the panes and climb out that way. I just needed some sort of object, like a loose brick from the fireplace.

  “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

  The voice was Hunter’s. But, at the same time, it wasn’t. It sounded just like him, but it was cold and rough, full of… hate. A deep hate.

  I spun around to find that Hunter had appeared in the doorway, and he leaned casually against the frame, just behind a line of pure white salt on the floor.

  “Thank God you’re here,” I sighed, deciding to play dumb for the moment. “I know this sounds absolutely crazy, but I’m stuck in this room. Hunter, someone spelled it so I can’t escape. I need you to help me.”

  I made sure to pump just the right amount of pleading into my tone, hoping beyond hope that there was another explanation for what seemed like a horrible situation.

  Actually, horrible was probably an understatement. Because the way I saw it right then, it sort of seemed like Hunter had been the one to trap me in this dusty old room, and that was… awful.

  I may not have known him well, but I’d thought he was a good person. Apparently, though, I’d thought wrong.

  “I don’t think so,” Hunter shook his head calmly. “You’re going to stay in here until I’m done with you. Until I’ve done what I need to do.”

  His words sent a chill of terror down my spine. The pure venom that saturated them was enough to make me want to curl up in a fetal position and sob.

  “You’re the witch killer,” I gasped, completely aghast. How had I not seen it? That was why he’d been so interested in what I thought about the case. It was why he did some strange things sometimes, like grab my hand in strange ways.

  It was why he knew so much about magic.

  But Hunter’s head snapped up, and his gray eyes immediately blazed with an uncontrolled anger.

  “Do you really think you’re going to confuse me by turning the accusation back on me?” He demanded. “You fae really are all alike, aren’t you?”

  Oh my God.

  How did he know I was fae?

  My shock and terror must have shown on my face because Hunter nodded slowly.

  “Yeah, I know about that,” he replied coldly. “I knew it the moment I touched your hand in the coffee shop on the first day. What, were you looking over the faces you’d killed before, wishing you could do it again?”

  “What? Hunter, I—”

  “DO NOT PLAY DUMB WITH ME!” His roar was so sudden I stumbled backward, absolutely terrified.

  That was when I noticed the dagger by his side, shiny and sharp, ready to kill.

  Me.

  He wanted to kill me. Because he thought I was the killer.

  “Hunter, trust me, you don’t know enough about the magical world,” I started, pleading with him to understand. “It’s not me. I didn’t kill anyone. My mom and my grandma are part of the coven being targeted. That’s the secret they were keeping from me, the big lie I was so upset about the other day, remember? They hadn’t told me I was a witch. They’d lied to me my entire life. And I found out because of these murders. I want to find who did this even more than you, I swear. This isn’t just a job to me. This is my family.”

  For a split second, Hunter’s expression softened, and I saw the man I knew underneath his facade. The one who was kind and gentle, if a bit strange. Who had taken me to the park when I was upset and forced me to get some fresh air, and breathe.

  That was the Hunter I knew. The one I wanted to be around.

  But then, like a mask, his face dropped back into that cold expression.

  “You’re lying,” he accused. “That’s what the fae do, they lie. That’s why I’ve been sent here- to take care of our fae problem. I have to kill you, Shannon, before you can hurt anyone else.”

  I’d already guessed that was what he wanted to do, but hearing the words come out of his mouth made it all the mo
re terrifying. I could feel the panic start to set in, the abject fear of knowing I was trapped in this room with a man who wanted to kill me.

  A man who, by the looks of it, wanted revenge for the people he thought I’d murdered.

  “Hunter, come on, think about this,” I murmured. “Be rational. Why would I be trying to solve this case with you if I was the killer? Why would I ask you about the bag of herbs found in Muriel’s mouth? What could I possibly have to gain from giving you clues that would help solve the case if I was really the one who did it?”

  Hunter brought the blade out in front of him, and I stumbled back again, just a little bit. Rationally, I knew it did me no good to put space between us when I was trapped in this room. But my body had gone into survival mode, and it was all I could do to keep my heart rate and breathing steady.

  “I was sent here to investigate,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “The council said there was a fae here in Portland, targeting and killing witches. You’re the only fae I’ve found.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m the only fae here,” I interjected.

  Hunter’s gaze flashed menacingly up to me.

  “I’m very good at my job, Shannon,” he growled. “I don’t make mistakes.”

  “But you have, this time,” I cried. “Please, Hunter, listen to me. I’m fae, okay, you’ve got that right. But I am not the one you’re looking for. My mom and Grams, they’re witches. They’re human witches. I’m mixed… it’s a long story, but you gotta believe me.”

  I was bordering on hysterical as I watched Hunter play calmly with that knife. I could tell from his demeanor he’d done this many times before.

  After all, his name was Hunter. It all made sense now.

  “I feel as if I at least owe you an explanation,” he finally sighed, scratching a hand through his beard and looking at me sadly. “There was something… between us. I wouldn’t feel right about killing you without telling you why first.”