by Carly Fall
It seemed that the walls of her apartment were closing in around her, and she gasped again for air. The weight of his words was suffocating.
“Ms. Dubois?”
McAllister’s voice sounded far away—as if she’d somehow traveled to a different dimension and could only hear him through a tunnel filled with cotton.
“Get her some water,” she heard him say to Black. “I think she’s going to pass out.”
A moment later, a cup appeared in front of her, but before Avery took it, she stared at it and began to sob. The mug had a picture of a white unicorn with a rainbow mane and tail. It had been a gift from her mom.
Long moments later, the cup ended up in her hand. She wasn’t sure if someone had placed it there, or if she’d grabbed it herself. After taking a sip of water, she cradled it next to her breast and leaned back against the sofa cushions. Right now, the stupid cup was her only connection to her mother.
Avery stared at it and rocked back and forth, having no idea how much time had passed. When she finally looked up, she was almost surprised to see the detectives staring back at her. They’d been so quiet, she thought they’d left.
“Is there someone you’d like us to call?” McAllister asked.
She thought about Victoria but decided against it. The sun hadn’t fully set yet despite the time going on nine, and Victoria would only worry about her and want to be by her side. Avery wouldn’t risk having her friend fry alive while trying to get to her in her time of need.
“No,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “Not now.”
Her mother was dead.
But how?
“How did she die? What happened?” she asked. “I talk to her all the time. She hasn’t been sick.”
The detectives once again exchanged glances, then McAllister spoke again. “We… uh… we believe she was murdered.”
His words again felt like a fist to the gut. Murdered? Who in the world would want to kill her mother?
She had been one of the good ones—heavily involved in her church, volunteering at homeless shelters, reading to underprivileged kids at the library—as far as Avery was concerned, her mother might have been up for sainthood.
The whole situation seemed so obscene. She wondered for a moment if this was some sick joke but quickly dismissed that theory as she took in the serious expressions on the detectives’ faces.
“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?” Black asked.
She stared at the floor between them and shook her head. Her whole world had just imploded around her. A headache started up behind her eyes and the weight of the news felt as if it may crush her where she sat and send her through the floorboards.
“No one?” he urged.
Avery glanced up at him through wet lashes and wiped an arm across her face, smearing snot on it and not caring in the least bit.
“I have no idea who would want to hurt her. She is… she was like an angel directly from Heaven. She spent her life giving to others and finding people she could help. There wasn’t a cruel bone in her body.”
She burst into tears again and shut her eyes, longing to be left alone where she could curl up in bed under the blankets and pretend they’d never brought the news.
One of the detectives cleared his throat, and she opened her eyes. They were both standing before her. McAllister had a card in his hand extended to her.
“If you think of anything, please contact us. We’re truly sorry for your loss. Are you sure there’s not anyone we can call for you?”
She shook her head, not bothering to get to her feet. They were big boys; they could show themselves out. Besides, she probably couldn’t stand on her weak legs even if she tried.
When she was finally alone, her whole body began to shake uncontrollably. The debilitating ache in her chest felt like it might actually kill her, as if she were having a heart attack.
Avery fell to her side on the couch and curled up in a fetal position, sobs wracking her body. Had she ever felt so vulnerable and alone?
No, because her mother had always been there for her, to comfort her when she needed it, to offer advice.
A moment later, a soft knock on the door brought her thoughts back to the present. She didn’t have the energy to get up and answer it, and she didn’t want to see anyone, so she ignored it.
The knock sounded again, and the door opened just a crack.
“Ms. Dubois? It’s Detective McAllister again. Can I come in?”
She sat up, wondering about his return. To pepper her with more questions?
“Yeah.”
He stepped in and shut the panel but remained there.
“I know you’re part Fae,” he said, his voice low as if to be sure no one heard him.
She stared at him as shock replaced her grief. If he knew she was Fae, what did that make him? Not human. They didn’t know paranormals lived in their world. McAllister certainly wasn’t vampire because the sun had yet to fully set. He didn’t smell like a shifter. Besides, in her experience, they usually hung out on the other side of the law. Many were burglars, rapists, or just awful beings in general.
“I’m Fae, as well,” he continued, then glanced around the apartment. “The plants pretty much gave you away.”
Avery gasped as she let that sink in, not knowing how to respond. Color her surprised. She hadn’t detected anything paranormal about him.
“I work in the human police department so I can keep an eye out for any activity from our other paranormal friends, namely shifters and vampires,” he continued. “I just wanted to pass on my condolences again. It’s obvious your mother was very important to you, and I promise, from one Fae to another, I’m going to do everything in my power to find who did this.”
She knew he meant well, but the words did nothing to fill the emptiness in her soul.
“We’ll need you to come down and identify the body. We’re sure it’s your mother, but it’s protocol.”
His words were spoken as fact, but they left a small spark of hope ignited within her that perhaps all this had been a huge misunderstanding and her mother was alive and well.
He opened the door again and slipped out into the hallway. Avery rose on unstable legs and lunged toward the door. After flipping all the locks, she leaned against the panel and glanced around her apartment. The horrid, sinking feeling of loneliness seemed as if it would destroy her from the inside out. She slid down to the floor, wrapped her arms around her shins, placed her head on her knees, and didn’t even try to hold back the sobs.
After what might have been fifteen minutes or an hour, when no more tears rolled down her cheeks, she got up and poured herself a glass of wine.
This day had gone from bad to right down into the deepest depths of the shitter. She stood in the dark kitchen and contemplated what tomorrow would bring. A trip to the morgue? She dreaded planning the funeral. At some point, she’d need to visit her mother’s apartment and sort through her belongings.
With a sigh, she poured more wine. In all the emotional strain and anxiety about her mother’s death, she’d almost forgotten the loss of her job. Not to mention a pack of werewolves were after her.
How could life get any worse?
Avery knew she shouldn’t think that way. Tempting fate was dangerous business.
4
The next morning, Avery was at the city morgue just before eight. As she waited for the doors to open, she regretted the bottle of wine she’d finished off by herself the previous night. She had hoped it would put her to sleep, but she’d been mistaken. Instead, she’d spent most of the night roaming her small apartment trying to find ways to take her mind off the gut-wrenching pain threatening to overtake her. She’d trimmed her plants, watched a few infomercials, practiced her magic and telekinesis, and cut the split ends from her hair as the sun came up. She’d never been so happy to see the sunrise. It seemed to burn off the horrible, black cloud that had descended upon her. The arrival of morning didn’t make her mother�
�s death any easier to believe, but it seemed less devastating in the daylight hours.
Now, she sipped a Starbucks grande latte as she fought off a horrible headache and a rolling stomach.
Avery wanted to get this business of identifying her mother’s body over with as soon as possible, but she’d also worked up her curiosity to insane levels. In the haze of alcohol, she had convinced herself that when she saw Melia’s body, she would know who had murdered her. It was ridiculous, but she’d even gone so far as to think that her mother would somehow give her a hint from the other side.
When the office doors opened, she gave her name to the receptionist and was instructed to take a seat.
Ten metal folding chairs lined the grey walls. A large glass pane and a grey metal door separated the receptionist from visitors.
For the first fifteen minutes, Avery was the only one in the waiting room. The silence was eerie, and a shiver traveled down her spine as she considered all the dead bodies on the other side of the locked door. Had any of them been murdered like Melia? How many would go unclaimed?
The buzzing sound startled her, and a grey panel opened. A guy she placed in his late twenties stood dressed in blue scrubs, his black hair a disheveled mess, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
He flashed a sad smile. “Ms. Dubois? We’re ready for you now.”
Avery’s stomach lurched as she got to her feet, once again feeling incredibly unsteady. Was it the wine or her nerves?
She followed him down a white-tiled hall, their footsteps echoing against the grey walls.
It would be nice if the place were done in some other color. The shade reminded her of clouds and rain and was frankly depressing. However, it wasn’t as though they could decorate in happy colors, right? This was probably the gloomiest place in the greater Seattle area.
The guy stopped at a room and opened the door for her. She stepped in, her heart thundering in her chest. Two metal chairs sat in front of a black curtain covering the far wall.
“My name’s Matt,” he said. “I’m here to help you with the process of identifying the body.”
What a pleasant job. Yuk.
“When I pull the curtain aside, the body will be revealed through a window. This can be a very jarring, upsetting experience, so I suggest you sit down.”
She glanced over at him, wondering if he saw her as a small, weak woman or if he used the same explanation each time.
“I advise everyone who is identifying a family member to sit down,” he said with a grin, as if he’d read her mind.
Nausea twisted her stomach as her head began to swim. She wiped beads of sweat from her brow with shaky hands while she fought for breath. After sinking down into the chair, she set her coffee cup on the seat next to her, momentarily feeling that she was about to vomit.
“Are you ready?” Matt asked.
Was she ready? Was anyone ever ready to see their mother’s dead body? The person who had not only given her life and raised her but had also become her best friend by the time Avery entered adulthood?
She cleared her throat, ran a hand over her face, and nodded as tears started up again.
Matt pulled the curtain back, and she gasped.
Melia lay on a gurney with a sheet pulled up to her chin.
Her lips were swollen and purple, and a long gash extended from her nose down to her chin. The cheekbones that used to hold just a hint of blush were now black and blue, one eye also swollen shut.
Avery stared at her mother’s face, unable to believe the cruelty that had befallen her sweet, caring mom. Her tears dried up as shock set in.
Avery noted what appeared to be fingerprints around her mother’s neck, just under her ear. The face on the gurney looked similar to her mother’s, but in a distorted, almost clown-like way. Who in the world could beat a woman so she became almost unrecognizable?
After she struggled to get to her feet, Avery stepped over to the window, then sank to her knees. As she placed her hand on the glass separating them, she fought to accept that her mother was truly dead; yet she tried to open her mind in case her mother was able to send a message about who was responsible for this atrocity.
“Mom?” she whispered. “Who did this to you?”
Matt cleared his throat. “Is this your mother, Melia Dubois?”
She nodded.
Although it seemed as if they had cleaned her up as much as possible, she noticed what she assumed to be dried bits of blood in her mother’s ear.
“I can give you another minute to say goodbye,” Matt said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”
Avery didn’t know if he’d stepped out of the room, or only to the back wall. She couldn’t take her focus off Melia.
The slope of her mother’s nose was off and seemed to now angle to the left. Her murderer had broken her nose. Maybe more than one person was involved. She hadn’t thought about that.
Dry-eyed, Avery stared at the body a few more minutes, wishing she’d never seen her mom in this state, but at the same time, she wanted to remember every detail.
“Are you ready, Ms. Dubois?”
No, she wasn’t ready, but she also knew she couldn’t stay in this small, depressing room forever staring at her dead mother.
“Yes,” she whispered as she got to her feet. She took a measured step back and cast one last glance at her mom before turning to leave. Instead, something caught her eye.
Beneath the bruise of the fingerprint, she noticed two distinct darker marks, ones that seemed familiar.
Small and round, they wouldn’t be recognizable to everyone. In fact, they resembled an old, faded scar, or a birthmark. Most humans wouldn’t give them a second thought.
A vampire bite.
Unable to move for a moment, she simply stared, then went back to the window and dropped to her knees again to get a better view.
“Ms. Dubois?”
A vampire had killed her mother?
Melia knew Avery was part of this strange, paranormal underworld that had intertwined itself with the human world in the Seattle area. A human woman herself, she had married a Fae and produced Avery. By default, she was part of this secret society.
“Ms. Dubois?”
Right. It was time for her to leave.
She rose to her feet once more, then turned and followed Matt out of the horrid room. Surprised her legs actually carried her down the hallway to the main reception area, her head was still clouded with her hangover and all the questions her discovery had raised. She desperately needed fresh coffee and some aspirin.
The bus ride back to the apartment was uneventful, which was a good thing. Avery didn’t have the energy to keep track of her surroundings or check over her shoulder for shifters. She climbed the stairs to her apartment on sheer will. Once inside, she headed into the kitchen, fired up the coffee pot and grabbed the bottle of pain relievers.
After she had a cup of hot goodness in hand, she sat in a chair at the kitchen table and tried to sort out her befuddled mind.
A vampire bit Melia. Had there possibly been more than one bite, and Avery hadn’t been able to see it through the morgue window?
It was definitely a vampire bite. Avery’s wrist had displayed the distinctive markings at least a dozen times, so there was no mistaking them.
She needed to get into her mother’s apartment and take a look around. Maybe Melia had started a relationship with a vampire and hadn’t wanted Avery to know.
It was possible… hell, anything was possible… but none of the situation sat right with her.
Since Avery’s father had left them when she was ten, Melia hadn’t expressed any interest in finding another relationship. In fact, she’d laughed out loud when Avery had broached the subject just a few months ago.
“Mom, you should really find someone to spend the rest of your life with,” she’d said. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to grow old and lonely?”
“My life is plenty full, hone
y,” Melia had replied. “A woman doesn’t need a man, Fae or other, to find fulfillment in her life. I like mine just the way it is.”
Avery recalled the moment as if it had happened yesterday—the crinkles around her mother’s blue eyes as she laughed, the way she’d tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder, the glitter in her stare as she had sipped her coffee and peered at Avery over the cup… no, she couldn’t believe Melia had gotten tangled up with a vampire. Mother and daughter didn’t have secrets between them, and Avery couldn’t see any reason why her mother would have started such a thing.
With a deep breath, she promised not to get fixated on the details. The cops were investigating the crime, and that Fae detective, McAllister, was on her side. He’d promised he would do everything in his power to find out who had murdered her mother. Avery had no reason to doubt him.
Yet, the idea that the killer might be a vampire nagged at Avery.
A scream caught in her throat and her heart seemed to leap into her mouth at the sudden pounding on her door.
She took a deep breath, then scrambled through the small apartment, cursing under her breath.
After opening the door, she wished she’d given more consideration to her actions. Before her stood two shifters, both devastatingly good-looking with dark hair, muscular builds, and full lips. Their scent indicated they were from the Rainier pack—Jake’s pack.
Shit.
5
Avery tried to slam the door, but the bigger shifter blocked it with his boot. He crossed both arms over his expansive chest and grinned at her.
It was no surprise they’d found her. She’d been expecting it, but her mother’s death had put events from the skirmish at the jobsite on the back burner.
The two men pushed past her and into her living room. “I can see you’re trying to figure out the fastest way to get the hell out of here,” the larger of the two said. “I’m telling you not to worry about it.”
