Fatal Allure Collection

by Woods, Martha

  “Heya Amy,” he says in his deep, baritone voice, “What are you doing down in this neck of the woods?”

  I give me a rueful smile. “I’m afraid I was a clumsy idiot today. I knocked a try of samples onto the office floor before they could go to the lab. I came to get new ones.”

  “On Jimmy?” he asks, his eyes going wide.

  I nod. “Yep.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know if that was necessary, Amy,” he says. “There are witnesses who saw the whole thing. Their stories are a match. Even without DNA, I think we’ve got an open-shut case here.”

  “Better to be thorough,” I shrug. “But you know, he doesn’t strike me as the type who goes ballistic and hacks his girl up on the street.”

  “You know better than to judge a book by its cover,” he says, clucking his tongue. “Murderers come in all shapes and sizes.”

  “I guess,” I say, pushing my mouth to one side, my tone dubious. “I know it’s not my case, T, but I really think there might be more to this than meets the eye.”

  He laughs. “Well, apart from having a doppelganger that we’re not aware of, I’m not sure what we’d be missing. You go ahead and take those samples back to the lab. I’ve got this one.”

  Dismissed, I head out, my mind racing. My gut instincts tell me that he is innocent. But there are multiple witness testimonies? I cannot imagine this man Jimmy killing his loved one like the case describes. There has to be more to this case, something we are not seeing. Even without the strange occurrences of the day, I would still think that this is not as open-shut as my colleague thinks it is.

  As I drive, I find myself incessantly thinking over Jimmy’s comment, that someone at the club roughing up one of her coworkers had upset Erin. It reminds me of the dropped business card in the photo. Suddenly I have an urge to check out the strip club. I can’t help it. No Amy. You have to be on your best behavior. Before I know it, I take a sharp right and am now heading over to the strip club. I tell myself I’ll just have a quick look around, nothing more and then I’ll be on my way back to the office. Rick will never know. Jesus Amy, you just can’t help yourself, can you?

  The strip club is called Centerfold, and it is absolutely nothing special. A cement box off just off the highway. The neon lights that have been turned off and there is a “now hiring security” sign on the front. Maybe I should get Damon a job here, I laugh.

  This is the place? I could have easily been mistaken assuming this place was abandoned. Maybe it’s one of those fancy strip clubs that looks like nothing on the outside but is nicer on the inside. As I get out my car, I walk closer and see that the door is unlocked. Well, this is much easier than it is supposed to be and as I make my way into the dark space, my eyes have to adjust.

  Immediately, I’m overwhelmed with a sense of powerful magic. It calls to me, making it hard for me to get my bearings. I can only describe it as similar to what I felt when I was in Vincent’s head, feeling his bloodlust.

  I grit my teeth and mutter, “Get it together, Amy,” as I push through the heavy haze of magic and wander into the establishment.

  There is a young man behind the bar. I show my badge as I walk toward him and he puts up his hands with a grin.

  “Not here for you, I don’t think,” I say. “But thanks for your compliance anyway.”

  “How can I help you?” he asks.

  “Well, an employee here was murdered the other night,” I say. “I just wanted to check the place out, close off some leads.”

  “Which one?” he asks, wiping down the bar. He’s cute, skinny with curly blonde hair and a boyish face.

  “Which what?” I ask.

  “Which employee?” he asks. “There have been three that we know of. Which case are you working on?”

  My shock must be evident on my face. The bartender narrows his eyes. “You didn’t know?”

  “I did not,” I say. “I’m working on Erin’s case. Tell me about the others, though?”

  He nods. “Erin, Chessy, and Miriam,” he says. “Police have been in and out of this place all week.”

  “How did Chessy and Miriam die?” I ask.

  “Same as Erin,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially. “Stabbed multiple times by people they cared about.”

  “Recently?”

  He nods. “Probably all within the last month, yeah.”

  I absolutely refuse to believe that no one has connected these three murders. I take down information about the other two victims and as I finish up, the bartender’s spine straightens and he goes back to looking busy. When I turn, I see that a woman is approaching. She is tall and buxom with light brown hair that falls in perfect waves down her back. Her lips are full and painted glossy red.

  “Brian,” she says, “Why didn’t you tell me we had a guest?”

  He shrugs, “She’s a cop. Here about Erin.”

  “Alexis,” the woman says, holding out a hand for me to shake. “I’m the manager here, and Brian is my brother.”

  “Amy,” I say, taking her hand. As soon as I shake her hand, I sense that she is a witch. Was all of that heavy, dark power tied to her? “I’m with LAPD’s forensics unit.”

  I give her a business card. “Brian here just alerted me that Erin is not the only employee you’ve lost in the past month or so”

  She frowns. “He’s right. We’ve lost three dancers recently. It’s been quite disturbing to the staff, obviously. They were all lovely women.”

  “Don’t drink the water around here,” Brian says from the bar. “You won’t get pregnant but you might end up dead.”

  Alexis turns a sharp gaze on him. “That is not appropriate.”

  “I was just kidding,” he says. “Take it easy.”

  Alexis rolls her eyes. “I apologize for him,” she says. “His social skills are limited.”

  “Police find humor wherever they can get it,” I say with a shrug. “I’m used to inappropriate jokes.”

  “Well,” Alexis says with a clap of her hands. “I’ve got to go check on my first shift performers. I assume there is nothing else you need?”

  “No, thank you,” I say. “I appreciate your time.”

  I am not supposed to be here, not supposed to be investigating this case, but I feel I have found something important that was missed. How is it possible that three women were killed in a similar fashion within the span of a month and they all worked at the same place? I know some of my colleagues only see black and white–they will say that there were witnesses, that there is no way to prove these men innocent. But I would be willing to bet that all three men would say they remember nothing of the murder, and that they cared for these women deeply, that they would never hurt them.

  I said it myself to Jimmy–that’s what they all say, but I believe now that these men were somehow controlled, likely by whatever dark magic I feel here at Centerfold.

  I look around the bar and nothing seems amiss, but as I near the front alcove, I see them. Three female ghosts, all still bearing the fatal injuries that their murderers left behind. Those poor girls.

  The ghosts are staring at me. Pleading for justice. Their mouths gaping and their wounds seeping stains of dried blood over their clothes. They are all mid-twenties. One is blonde and thin and one is a curvier girl with curly red hair. The third has skin like milk chocolate and a head of puffy, brown hair. They were probably beautiful. Now, they are forever horror movie victims, destined to scream silently at me until I can avenge their deaths and send them on to whatever comes next. Heaven? I used to think all the fairy tales were a lie, but with what has happened over the last year, vampires, werewolves, witches, the idea of Heaven just doesn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

  As I head back outside, I feel the veil of magic lift, as if I’ve left a house full of carbon monoxide and am now able to breathe freely again. I have never felt such heavy, dark magic and it frightens me. I will have to talk with Faye about this.

  I check my phone and there are about thirteen messag
es and texts from Damon and Rick, wondering where I am and if I am okay.

  At this moment, I am not sure if I am.

  Chapter 5

  “Amy, oh my god, where have you been?” Damon asks, his face pinched with worry as he barrels over to me, enveloping me in a fierce hug.

  I allow him to embrace me, even though I roll my eyes into his chest at this over protectiveness.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I was just out checking some leads on a case. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

  “Rick called and said you were going to get DNA samples from a suspect but never came back,” he says, letting me go. “Where did you go?”

  “I did get the sample,” I hesitate a moment, knowing that it is probably not a good idea to tell Damon the whole truth, but a moment of guilt compels me to do so, “but something came up with the suspect while I was there. There were all these weird things happening in the labs today–like something was trying to get my attention. I needed to follow up, if even for my own peace of mind.”

  “But he said he specifically took you off of field work,” Damon says. “He’s doing this for your own good.”

  “He’s doing it because I’ve been acting crazy,” I say. “And because he thinks I’ve been sick because we’ve been lying to him about the truth.”

  “Well, better to lie to him than to try to explain that the supernatural exists,” he argues.

  “Okay fine, say for the sake of argument that it is best to keep him in the dark,” I say. “But that doesn’t make it okay for him to treat me like a child.”

  “He has a department to run,” he says. “He’s just being careful. And he needs to make sure you’re safe, too.”

  I’m slightly annoyed by the fact that Damon is now defending Rick and indirectly telling me how to do my job. I need to calm down but my blood begins to boil and I unleash. “Damon, I was able to do my job just fine before all of this. I’m pretty sure I can do it just fine now, too.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be investigating, Amy,” he says. “For one, you just went through a heck of an ordeal physically. Second, your boss limited your duties. He said he explicitly reminded you this wasn’t your case.”

  “Well, I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions, particularly when it comes to tracking down a lead no one else has found,” I say. “And while I may not be at peak physical strength, I’m still pretty sure I could kick most anyone’s ass.”

  “Sounds like this is going to turn into an argument,” Damon says. “Clothes off.”

  I growl at him but that is the agreement we’ve made. If we argue, the clothes come off. Somehow, being naked during arguments just ratchets up the honesty level.

  I pull my sweater over my head; Damon divests himself of his t-shirt. As we undress I say, “I’m not trying to argue. I just want to be trusted to do what I’m good at. I’m tired of you and Rick conspiring to ‘keep me safe’ when I’ve kept myself safe for quite a long time on my own, thank you very much.”

  “You kept yourself safe when the villains were human,” Damon says. “Now you’re dealing with the supernatural and that’s my domain.”

  “You forget,” I say. “I’m not totally human myself. I have Awakened, and I haven’t even started to tap the full scope of what my powers might be.”

  “I understand that the Awakening is part of you, just like being a Hunter is part of me. But I’ve given that up for you–for us. I thought that trying to be normal, living a normal life together and getting as far away from the supernatural as we could,” Damon says, his muscular arms crossed over his equally muscular chest.

  I swear this rule is only designed to distract me from the argument. Just looking at him makes me want him, and that’s the last thing that needs to be on my mind right now.

  “Damon,” I say, “this has nothing to do with whether I want to get away from the supernatural or not. This has to do with the fact that I have a job to do–a job I’m good at–and you two men are trying to control me.”

  “I have never tried to control you,” he argues. “I just want you to trust me enough to call on me when you need help. You’re so stubborn and you run into things trying to be a hero, without thinking of the consequences.”

  “Well, I’d rather run in and try to be a hero than stand by and watch people I love get murdered,” I say tersely.

  “People you love,” he says blandly. “As in, Cara and Vincent.”

  I look away, biting my lip.

  “I care about them both, yes.”

  He turns away, his fists in tight balls. “You said love,” he hisses as he turns back to me. “You love him?”

  “Not the point,” I say. “My feelings for Vincent are irrelevant to this conversation. I am a grown woman and I’m tired of people trying to control me. People and non-people, for that matter. I just want to make my own choices.”

  “And I just want you to be safe. Because, god knows why, I really love you, Amy. I love you and I need you to be safe. I’d do anything to protect you. Don’t you see that?”

  “I do,” I say. “I really do, and I feel the same. That’s why I came to save you from the Sisters, even though there was a chance you’d never know, that you’d never love me again.”

  “But you feel the same about Vincent?” he spits. “You were lured right into a trap when you knew he was being tortured. You ran right in to save him.”

  “And Cara,” I say. “My best friend was wasting away. I thought I could save them both, and I did.”

  “Barely,” he says.

  “Well, thankfully I had Mika, Ivanka, and Joseph to help me,” I answer. “But I was willing to die, yes. I would have given my life for you, for Cara, or for Vincent.”

  “Mika, Ivanka, and Joseph,” Damon repeats their names with venom, making a sour face. “Vampires. You have to know what a slap in the face it is for you to have such sympathy for the monsters I’m sworn to kill.”

  “I think that you’ve been brainwashed to hate a specific species of creature. I think that’s extremely closed-minded.”

  He laughs loudly, but the sound is humorless. “I’m closed-minded now because I don’t trust vampires? That’s rich.”

  “You were trained to think they’re all bad, but just like with humans, there are shades of gray. You need to stop thinking of them all as monsters.”

  “Amy, we are not having this conversation right now,” he says. “There’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to talk me into having some breakthrough over a species of monster that drinks blood to survive. And just because they didn’t kill you doesn’t mean they can be trusted.”

  I make a noise of frustration. “Fine. You know what, Damon? I’m not going to try to change your mind. And I won’t explain myself. I did what I thought was right, every time. And I saved lives.”

  “Including mine,” he says, coming closer. “You saved my life. But next time might not work out so well for you. And I can’t lose you.”

  “And I can’t stop doing what I think is right. And right now, three women are dead and I’m not going to stop until I find out why.”

  I’m done with this conversation. I walk away from Damon, find some running shorts, a sports bra and a t-shirt, which I pull on hastily, followed by my running shoes. As I pass him on my way to the door, he narrows his eyes.

  “Where are you going now?” he asks.

  “None of your business,” I snap.

  “I don’t feel like this issue is resolved,” he says.

  “It will never be resolved if you continue to try to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do,” I answer. “And I’m going to check on Cara. I’ll be home later. We can talk again when we’ve both cooled down.”

  I don’t even give him a chance to respond as I head out the door, slamming it behind me.

  * * *

  As I drive to Cara’s I think about my conversation with Damon. I am not wrong. These two men are controlling me under the guise of acting as if I need protection. I mean, I unders
tand that it was impulsive to run in to fight the Sisters and save Damon. I get that I was manipulated easily by Olivia once she knew I would react so easily to the feeling that Cara and Vincent were in danger.

  I am not naïve. I realize that vampires can’t compel me and I can often read their thoughts and feel their feelings. This is a useful skill to have, and they might not kill me, but they would enslave me to have access to my abilities.

  I still think I did the right thing. I fought for the people I cared about in both situations. And both Damon and Vincent have been there for me when I was in trouble. How is this any different?

  When I knock on Cara’s apartment door, I feel suddenly nervous. What if she doesn’t want to see me? She opens the door, looking much better than the last time I saw her.

  “Amy,” she says, her eyes wide in surprise. “This is a surprise.”

  “Am I bothering you?” I ask.

  “No, not at all,” she says, opening the door to welcome me in. “Come on in.”

  We wander in and my mind immediately goes to the last scene of her here, naked and in thrall to Charlie, her abusive vampire boyfriend. It hurts to think about it. More so to realize that it was partially my fault that she got caught up with him in the first place. I had distanced myself when she questioned my relationship with Damon.

  “How are you?” I ask as we sit down in her lavishly furnished living room.

  “Good, okay,” she says. “Getting back into the swing at work. I’m honestly shocked I didn’t get fired but Tommy really went to bat for me. Law firms aren’t really known for showing compassion but I think they felt bad when he told them I’d been caught in an abusive relationship. Or maybe they just felt awkward about it.”

  “Maybe both,” I say. “But it’s good they let it go. Rick is still on my case after these past few, weird months.”

  Cara’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Amy…I don’t know what’s been going on with you. With us. But I feel like we’re really different people now than we were a year ago.”