A Ghost of a Chance: The Nightwatch book 1

by Cassidy, Debbie

  “So, the man in the alley was trying to kidnap her?” Kris brushed Meredith’s hand off his pectorals. “Seems a little sloppy.”

  He was right. It was sloppy, be it a rider trying to kidnap her or a human. I was missing something but couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  Kris ducked away from Meredith. “Shit, I just lowered her inhibitions so she’d relax and talk, but this …”

  At least his mojo wasn’t working on me like the nymph’s had. “Then pull it back.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Why did he make her scream? It didn’t make sense. Why would a rider kidnap a human? Damn it, this investigation wouldn’t go anywhere if the others thought we were dealing with a human attacker. The police wouldn’t get anywhere with this lead. I needed to get away from Kris. I needed to speak to the reaper. He had to know what the fuck was going on here. I needed to ditch Kris and go solo.

  “I think that’s enough for one day.” I pulled Meredith away from him. “Do what you have to do, and we should get out of here. We should speak to the others about this. Get their input.”

  And then I can ditch you, grab Henri, and go back out again.

  Thank God he couldn’t read my thoughts.

  Five minutes later, Kris had worked his mojo, and we left Meredith happily reading her latest romance novel, which reminded me …

  “Any late-night bookstores around here?”

  Kris shot me a strange look. “At almost ten in the evening?”

  I shrugged. “Back in Ravensheart, we had an all-night bookstore and café.”

  “Well, good for you.”

  “Is that a no?”

  He unlocked the car. “I didn’t say that.” He shot me a grin. “It’s time to introduce you to the real nightlife of Scorchwood.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Pendragon Square was accessed via an innocuous alleyway lined with wheelie bins. Two lefts and a right and we were stepping through a shimmer in the air and into a market square hidden from human eyes.

  A thick iron lamppost with an old-style lantern at the top beamed bright amber—a beacon to light the busy market square where supernaturals were milling about. There were two cafés with outdoor seating, a restaurant, a small bakery, and on the right, with its pretty red awning, was the bookstore – Wicked Imaginations.

  I stood, hands on hips. “This is amazing.”

  “What?” Kris asked with a smug smile. “Did Ravensheart not have a secret supernatural market?”

  I gave him an arch look. “No, just the standard supe stores marked with the Watch insignia.”

  “Ah, the good old NW symbol. Yes, we don’t have any need for those. If you need to be yourself, you come here.”

  The symbol had been around for centuries. A marker recognized by all supernaturals that said this is a safe place for you to be yourself. These haunts were usually surrounded by look-away wards that kept humans at bay. The stores and diners were run by supernaturals connected to the Nightwatch, with contacts to the many warehouses and supply depots that provided the unique items and foods they needed to service the supernatural community. But there was no need for the isolated hotspots if Scorchwood had a whole market to cater to its supes.

  “Come on, let’s grab your books,” Kris said.

  “Not for me. For Tris.”

  “Oh, the man chest books?” Kris smirked. “I should model for those covers.”

  He really should, but like hell was I telling him that.

  We walked through the square where the smell of fresh pastry had my stomach rumbling.

  Kris looked down at me from his two-head-taller height. “You need blood.”

  I needed a croissant. “I’m fine.”

  “They serve fresh, warm blood at the diner …”

  “I’ll just take the books.” And a sneaky sandwich when we got back.

  His gaze traveled across the square to a red door between two stores. “Go browse. I’ll find you in half an hour.”

  I strode off toward the red door. Okay, now I was curious, but following him would be rude, not that rude was out of the question, but if I was going to go in search of the reaper tonight, we needed to get a move on.

  Damn me and my guilt. Now to find some sexy reads.

  The door pinged when I opened it, and a tingle ran over me. Probably checking for nasty surprises like hex bags and potions, yeah, some supernaturals carried them. Weavers mainly worked for the Watch, but like with any breed, there were rogues out there, and there was a black market for magic and magical items.

  I was clean though, so there, and wow, check out the floor-to-ceiling books. All bindings. All sizes. Shit was this place even in any order?

  The lighting was dimmer than expected for a bookstore, but then supes tended to have great vision so…

  “Can I help you?” A dark-skinned man with close-cropped hair and stunning green eyes appeared as if from nowhere. He was dressed casually in a cream tee and faded blue denim.

  “I’m looking for romance novels?”

  “Contemporary or fantasy?” His voice was low-pitched and soft as if he hadn’t spoken for a while.

  “Both?” I smiled. “They’re for a friend.”

  “A-huh.” He turned, showcasing a tight ass in denim. “This way.”

  Book store owners weren’t supposed to look like this. The eyes, the body, the butt, that pantherine walk, and that lick-at-your-nape voice. Okay, maybe I needed to start writing novels or get laid.

  Getting laid would be so much easier.

  He led the way into the stacks piled high with volumes, and then stopped and pointed to the shelves to his left.

  “This is all we have right now, but if we don’t have what your friend wants, then I can always order it in.”

  “The books are really for a friend.”

  “And you seem a little defensive about buying them. Romance is a wonderful genre,” he said. “One of my favorites.”

  I blinked at him. “You read romance novels?”

  “All the time.” His smile was almost shy. “Love is an interesting concept, don’t you think? And so many ways to fall in love. So many dynamics.”

  “True.” Where was he going with this?

  He sighed and reached out to run his fingers across the spines. My gaze caught on a huge emerald sitting snug on the middle finger of his left hand. He pulled out a book, and then another, and then two more.

  “These are my favorites.” He handed me the books. He smiled conspiratorially and then leaned in. “I hope your friend likes them.”

  I wanted to correct him, tell him that the books weren’t for me like he was assuming, but what the heck.

  “Thanks. I’ll take them.”

  He led me to the front desk and bagged up the books. “Here.” He handed me a business card. “Just in case there’s anything else I can do for you. I have a personal collection of excellent reference books on all things supernatural.”

  Luther Crispin, Wicked Imaginations, the card read, with a number in bold beneath.

  Luther. Nice. I tucked the card into my jeans pocket and handed him two twenties for the books. “Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind, and keep the change.”

  * * *

  Half an hour had come and gone, and Kris still wasn’t back. I had my suspicions as to what was behind the red door, and the last thing I wanted to do was invade his privacy, but fuck it, I needed to jet.

  The square was even busier than before as I wove through the crowd toward the door. Scorchwood really did have a large population of supernaturals. Those ley lines were obviously doing their work, both with bringing the dangerous supes and the regulars to this town, but what stopped this place getting flooded with supes? Weird how the cosmos balanced shit out, huh?

  There was no bell or intercom on the door, so I knocked.

  Nothing.

  I knocked again, harder this time.

  The door swung open, and a behemoth blocked the entrance.

  “Code word.” His v
oice was high-pitched, screechy, and totally at odds with his physical appearance.

  Some may have thought it was an unfortunate twist of fate, but as a member of the Watch, I knew different.

  I smirked up at him. “Are you registered?”

  His eyes widened.

  Yep, he was a morph, a bastardized fey known for its shape-shifting ability. But they could only shapeshift into the form of someone who was already deceased. They were also beings forced to register because their ability was considered dangerous. What if a morph infiltrated the council? What if they got into the vaults? I should be taking him in, but Kris hadn’t done it, which led me to believe that the Watch had this morph on their radar already?

  I ran my gaze over him. “I hope this guy you’re mimicking died of natural causes.”

  Panic flitted across the morph’s face. “You’re Nightwatch?”

  “I am.”

  He shook his head. “I swears, I didn’t hurt him. I swears it was natural.”

  I patted his arm. “I believe you, buddy. Now, hold on to these books.” I passed him the paper bag of books. “And let me pass.”

  He scurried to the side to let me through.

  Morph’s original forms were bland and faceless, and they were only three feet tall. I’d seen pictures in the Nightwatch Academy texts.

  Did he realize that Kris was also Nightwatch? Probably not. Didn’t matter. I was here to grab him and get the hell out. A short corridor led to a flight of descending steps, and then the sound of fists and grunts and cheers drifted up to me.

  Oh, man. So not what I’d been thinking, but better than the seedy den of sexual release I’d been picturing.

  I stepped into a dank room with grimy lightbulbs and several supes standing around cheering the occupants of a crudely etched circle ringed with confinement runes, and inside the circle was a bare-chested Kris and a hairy-chested Moonspawn with dagger eyes and a wrestler’s build. His hair was brown and mussed with the just-got-out-of-bed vibe that was stylish.

  Kris ducked and punched, the muscles across his back rippling with the movement, his skin slick with … oil? Had he oiled up? Tendrils of his hair had come loose from the man bun and clung to his forehead and cheekbones. His eyes were hard and focused. The cuffs on his wrists winked in the shitty light as he swung his fist to connect with the Moonspawn’s face.

  The crowd howled, but the Moonspawn laughed and spat out blood before lunging for Kris. They grappled, hit the floor and rolled, and then Kris was on top of the wolfman, his arm around the wolfman’s throat, legs tangled in a lock hold that there would be no getting out of. But wait, the huge wolf bucked and twisted, and Kris was thrown. His back hit the ward, and he was flung back into the ring and straight into the Moonspawn’s fist.

  Oof. Kris went down and then slapped his palm on the ground. The Moonspawn grinned a bloody, toothy grin and then ruffled Kris’s hair.

  “You’re getting better. Maybe next time,” he said.

  It was Kris’s turn to spit blood. He stood, shaking his head and matching his opponent’s grin.

  The runes dulled and Kris looked up and locked gazes with me. His smile fell, and his expression grew stony. The Moonspawn tracked his gaze, nostrils flaring. His bloodshot gaze fixed on me.

  Fuck.

  He was huge, hairy, and angry.

  “Nightblood, how the fuck did you get in here?” The words were a menacing growl.

  The crowd moved in. Shit, they were all Moonspawn, all angry and pumped up on testosterone, and the fact that the full moon was only a week away and shit, this was bad.

  “Get out,” Kris said sharply.

  Wolves, they were all wolves, and I was a Nightblood in their midst. We may have signed Unities, we may work together when it came to the Nightwatch, but there was no denying the natural animosity between our breeds. There was no denying the fear that raced through my veins like an unwelcome drug.

  I held up my hands all casual-like. “My mistake.”

  Time to get the fuck out of here. My back hit a wall of muscle, and huge hands gripped my arms and lifted me off my feet.

  Kris’s mouth tightened, and then he laughed a short, sharp sound. He sauntered over, peering at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Hell, I didn’t know they made Nightbloods this small.”

  “Bite-size,” my captor said.

  Okay, so we were playing the don’t-know-each-other game. What the hell did these wolves know about Kris? Did they even know he was Nightwatch?

  Everyone laughed, and I joined in. “Ha, yeah, so funny. And you know what’s even funnier? I thought this was a bar. I’ll be leaving you fine men to your face-punching.”

  Kris’s mouth was smiling, but his body was on high alert, tense and ready to react. Surely, they could see that. Nope. No, they were too focused on me, the interloper, the primal enemy.

  Hell, it sucked because I’d hung out with Moonspawn at the Academy, fought alongside them in the trials. We could work together when united in a goal, like the slaying of otherworld monsters.

  Kris’s mouth turned down. “What do you say, Rich? Should we let her go?”

  Rich … He had to be the leader. The alpha of this pack. He’d pulled on his T-shirt now and was watching the scene speculatively.

  His gaze flicked from me to Kris and then back again. “You dared to enter, mistake or not, you can fight to leave.”

  Fight. That I could do. That was something I was highly trained in, something I’d graduated with honors in, but these were Moonspawn under an almost full moon, practically at full strength. More beast than man. The odds were not in my favor.

  My captor’s grip loosened, and I spun to face him, all six-foot-three of him. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you or anyone.”

  Kris let out a groan.

  Shit. Me and my mouth. “Not that I could. Because you big man, and me little Nightblood.” I reached out and gave his bicep an experimental squeeze. “Shit, there really is no give in that, is there?”

  He bared his teeth at me and blasted me with his rank wolfy breath. Whoa, someone needed a breath mint.

  “I’ll fight her.” Kris shrugged. “I spotted her outside and ducked in here. She probably saw me and followed.” He grinned. “Can you blame her.” He looked to me. “New in town, right? Thought this was a bar. Thought you could chat up the hot dude?”

  Ew. Gag.

  “It was my fault she found this place.” Kris sighed. “Let me put her down.”

  “You? I could break you in two with my itty-bitty hands.” I held up said hands for emphasis and mimed breaking something.

  Kris’s mouth twitched. “Yeah? Well, step into the circle then. You win, you go free. You go unharmed. I win, and you belong to me.”

  “No,” Rich said with a menacing smile. “You win, and she belongs to the pack. She wins, she goes free. She goes unharmed.” He pierced me with his bloodshot gaze. “We got a deal?”

  I nodded. “Deal.”

  Kris hid a wince. “Let’s dance, little Nightblood.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Oh, how we danced. Five minutes of kicks and punches, glancing blows and evasion. The runes lit up, and the ward shoved us back into the center every time we hit the invisible barrier that held us locked in the fight zone.

  Bored now.

  I arched a brow. “You’re a shit dancer. Call those moves.”

  “You couldn’t handle my moves.”

  “Boss,” one of the wolves said in a disgruntled tone. “Are they flirting?”

  There was a low, rumbling growl. “Kris, finish this,” Rich said. “I’m hungry.”

  We circled each other, focused and ready. He lunged, I evaded and then kicked out. Shit, missed. Damn, he was fast. But not faster than me. I did the blur thing to get around him, but his arm whipped out, and he snagged me out of the air and slammed me onto the ground. His body was between my legs, hands pinning my wrists. Our gazes locked in a heated moment; his lips parted as his attention dropped to my mouth a
nd then my chest.

  I smirked. “Eyes up.”

  “I’ve got you pinned. Now what?” He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth.

  “Quit playing,” one of the wolves said. “Fuck this, let me have her.”

  “No,” Rich snapped. “We had a deal.”

  Shit, they were getting antsy. Time to end this.

  I moved swift and sudden. Jerking my right hand up, palm to my face, I grabbed his left wrist with my left hand, shoved my left knee against his side, then kicked out at his right hip at the same time as tugging on his left wrist. The maneuver knocked him off balance and slid me out from under him. I was up, and it was him on his front with my knee in the small of his back and his arm twisted behind him to incapacitate him.

  “Squeal, piggy.” Okay, maybe that was a bit much.

  “Oink, oink.” He tapped out.

  Damn. Gorgeous and a good sport, be still my heart.

  “This is a joke, right?” the six-foot monolith drawled. “You’re fucking kidding me?”

  “Deal’s a deal,” Rich said, but his gaze was suspicious. “I guess sparring three rounds with me must have tired our piggy out.” There was an edge to his tone, an unforgiving one.

  We really needed to get out of here. Dammit, what was he even doing hanging with a pack of wolves?

  I released Kris, stood, and offered the Moonspawn a salute. It was easy to be cocky once I’d won because with the Moonspawn, their word was their bond. They wouldn’t hurt me now.

  “Sorry for the intrusion. Next time, I’ll make sure I get an invite.”

  “Make sure there isn’t a next time,” Rich said. But his attention was on Kris. The demon ducked his head and stepped out of the circle.

  No point hanging around now. I took the steps two at a time but paused by the morph.

  “Could have warned me it was a fucking wolf den.” I snatched the books off him.

  His smile was sickly-sweet.

  Bastard.

  * * *

  Kris found me leaning up against the car, romance books clutched to my chest. His face was a storm cloud. “You could have been killed, you know.” He unlocked the car. “The Moonspawn hate your kind and encroaching on their territory is grounds for a hunt.”