Shift of Fate

by Elisa Adams

  She tried to listen to the conversations of the people around her, but with plates and flatware clattering and oldies music blaring on the radio she couldn’t make out enough of any conversation to call it useful.

  A thin, dark-haired waitress in a faded yellow apron stopped next to the table. “What can I get for you?” She looked like she couldn’t be more than twenty. The nametag pinned to the apron read Nancy.

  “Coffee. Is it possible to get a cheeseburger this early in the morning?”

  Nancy frowned, but yelled over her shoulder to an older man behind the grill. “Sean, can you make a burger?”

  He glanced up long enough to nod his head. “No problem.”

  “Thanks. What can I say? I’m not really into pancakes.”

  Nancy shrugged. “It’s no big deal. We get some strange requests every once in a while. All those trendy diets, I guess.” She filled the chipped beige mug in front of Merida with steaming coffee and set a small metal pitcher of cream on the table. “I’ll be back in a few with your food.”

  Merida brought the mug to her lips and inhaled, drawing in the rich, hot scent of the strong coffee. She took a small sip, drinking it black. For the first time since arriving, she wondered if Royce’s friend might be right. She felt a strange presence, settled around the town, an almost eerie quiet. She’d felt something similar in Stone Harbor last summer. It might be just a little bit of paranoia on her part—or there could be something in the town none of the other patrons in the coffee shop would believe. Everything here seemed too perfect, almost surreal. No talk of murders at all, even though it had just happened days ago. It didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t someone still be wondering what had happened to those people?

  “Is everything okay?”

  She looked up as Nancy set her plate of food in front of her.

  “Oh, yeah. Fine.”

  Nancy smiled. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Actually, I have a question.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you know anything about those murders a couple of days ago?”

  Nancy’s eyes widened and she glanced over her shoulder. “You’re not a reporter or anything, are you?”

  “No. I’m a friend of Wil Brogan’s.”

  “Um, okay.” Nancy looked around the room, a nervous glint in her eyes, before she slid onto the empty chair across from Merida. “I just have to be quiet. My mother owns the diner, and she doesn’t like me gabbing while I work. I don’t know much, just what everyone else does. I heard it was horrible, that the bodies were mutilated. At least that’s what Michelle told me.”

  “Michelle?”

  “Silverman,” Nancy said it like Merida should have known. “You know, Wil’s girlfriend.”

  “Oh, yeah. Her.” Either Royce had failed to mention Wil’s girlfriend to her, or Wil hadn’t bothered telling Royce about her.

  “She’s a reporter for the Caswell Gazette. She thinks it was some kind of cult thing. At least that’s what she’s telling everyone in town.”

  “Really?”

  Nancy’s gaze locked with Merida’s. The younger woman seemed to be searching Merida’s face for something. When she finally spoke, her tone had lowered even more. “You said you’re a friend of Wil’s.”

  “I did.”

  “Then I think you should know something about him.”

  The hair on the back of Merida’s neck prickled. “What’s that?”

  “Michelle thinks…oh, never mind. I really shouldn’t be telling these kinds of things to a complete stranger.”

  Merida concentrated, pushing herself into Nancy’s mind. It’s okay. I’m safe. I won’t tell anyone what you tell me.

  Nancy’s eyes widened, but Merida just smiled. You can trust me, Nancy.

  “Michelle thinks Wil might have something to do with the murders,” Nancy blurted.

  Shock slammed into Merida. “She what? Why would she think that?”

  “You wouldn’t believe the stuff Michelle has dug up about him. He left the police department in New York City after a case that went wrong. Michelle said he’s got what she described as a shady past and she doesn’t know how he even got hired here. And, she said he’s been acting strange lately, jittery, like something’s wrong.”

  “Do you talk to Michelle a lot?”

  Nancy shrugged. “She comes in a few times a week. Her mother and mine were close friends growing up. Michelle is a few years older than me. She used to baby-sit me and my sisters.”

  Merida filed away the information she got from Nancy for later, when she could ask Wil about what Michelle had been saying. She wondered if Michelle knew more than she was letting on. Why would she try to implicate a police detective in a double murder? She could just be a reporter hungry for a story, but she might not be, either. Before she came to any conclusions, though, she needed more information.

  “How long have she and Wil been together?”

  “About four months, but she’d been hounding him a lot longer than that. You’ve seen the guy. Do you blame her? But he’s so hesitant. He’s such a recluse, everyone in town has been afraid to approach him. In the ten years he’s been around here, I guess he’s only made a handful of friends. He’s weird, keeps to himself. Honestly, I have to tell you he gives me the creeps. No offense. I know he’s your friend and all.”

  “None taken.” So Wil gave everyone the creeps and dated a reporter that may or may not know more about the murder than she was saying. That didn’t speak well for his judgment. Or his personality. When Wil woke up later that night, she had a gazillion questions she’d need answered. “Where is this house located?”

  “It’s at the very end of Magnolia Street. Take a right at the end of Main Street, go a couple of miles down the road, and Magnolia Street will be on the left. It’s the door on the left. Michelle’s is on the right.”

  “Wait a second. Michelle lives in the same building?”

  Nancy nodded, and Merida moved Michelle a little higher on her suspicion list.

  She thanked Nancy for her time and rushed to eat her meal before she paid the bill and left. What Nancy had told her had her curiosity aroused, and she couldn’t wait to find out if any of it was true. After a quick stop at the local market for a few necessities—food that didn’t come in blood bags—she followed Nancy’s directions to the house Wil’s girlfriend shared with the murder victims. Until she saw the scene of the crime, she couldn’t let herself form any conclusions.

  Chapter Six

  Merida gave the front door a sharp push. It swung open slowly, with a foreboding creak. She stepped inside, careful to shut the door behind her in case anyone drove by. The house sat in a relatively unsettled area, but she didn’t see a point to taking unnecessary chances.

  Despite the bright sun shining outside, the interior of the house felt dark and damp—the mark of a nonhuman entity. Merida rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill. Her running shoes scuffed along the hardwood floor that ran the length of the huge room that served as a kitchen, dining room, and living room. The scent of dried blood hung heavy in the air, along with the burnt smell Wil had detected. It wasn’t strong, but she definitely caught it in the thick, moist air.

  Electricity filled the expansive room that set her nerves on edge. Humans were so much easier to take care of than whatever this thing was—probably some kind of demon, but she couldn’t put a name to it until she had more facts. For now she filed it away in her mind as a royal pain in the ass.

  She spent several hours combing through every room in the house, right down to the half bath in the basement. She found no sign of current demonic presence, but that didn’t really mean anything. Certain demons had unusually good cloaking abilities. For all she knew, the killer might be watching her as she watched for it. The thought gave her a chill.

  * * * * *

  When Royce dragged himself out of bed just after sunset that night, a horrible charred smell filled the entire house. He pulled on a pair of jeans ove
r his boxers and, scrubbing a hand down his face, stumbled down the back stairs to the kitchen and the source of the offensive odor. Merida stood by the stove, back to him, humming to herself as she cooked.

  He narrowed his eyes as he stopped behind her. “What the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea how early it is?”

  “I’m cooking, obviously. I take no responsibility for your overly sensitive nasal passages.” She turned to him, brandishing a huge silver meat fork.

  He held his hands up and stepped back, not wanting to lose any vital parts so early in the evening. “Whoa, kitty. Easy with that thing.”

  She smiled. “What’s the matter? Is the big, powerful vampire afraid of a little fork?”

  “In your hands, yes. Sometimes I think you’re a little unstable.”

  Instead of laughing at the mock insult, or hurtling one right back as he thought she would, she frowned and turned back to the pan on the stove. Curious. “Did I say something wrong?”

  She shook her head, but didn’t turn around to look at him.

  “Merida?”

  When she turned back to him, she had a smile plastered on her face he suspected was about as phony as his insults. She held a large white plate in her hands. “I broiled some steak, and steamed fresh broccoli. Do you want some?”

  His stomach churned as he got a whiff of the green vegetable. The steak he could handle if she’d cooked it very rare, but he’d abandoned vegetables too many years ago to count. “What’s that smell? It isn’t meat or vegetables.”

  She finally laughed. “The stove hadn’t been used in a long time, I guess. There was a little dust on the burners.”

  A little? The room smelled like she’d exploded a dust rhino. He glanced at the plate she held with mild interest. “That steak looks pretty rare. Do you mind if I have a little?”

  She frowned at him. “I was just kidding. I didn’t think you ate at all. Not food, at least.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind a good steak now and then.”

  She grabbed a second plate out of the cabinet, cut a large chunk of steak from her piece, and pushed it onto the plate. “Here you go. Um, enjoy.” She seemed to be watching him with rapt interest, so he cut a piece off the steak and slipped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor of the human food he usually avoided. Once in a great while he missed eating, but his sensitive taste buds couldn’t handle the extreme flavor of most food.

  Merida kept giving him odd glances in between bites, as if she expected him to keel over and die at any minute. She probably hoped he would, but she wasn’t that lucky.

  “I see you went shopping today,” he mentioned, trying to break the tension that had settled over them once again. He swallowed hard, lust slamming into him full-force as her tongue ran over her bottom lip. Still waking up, he couldn’t put up defenses fast enough to keep out her scent—a scent that drove him to the brink of sanity. The muscles in his shoulders bunched.

  She must have noticed a change in him, because her eyes widened and her lips pursed. He saw shades of the fighter he knew her to be as she braced herself. He let out a slow breath, hoping to keep things civil between them. She’d made it quite clear he didn’t interest her, not in the physical sense. But if she kept doing sexy things he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

  “Yes, I went shopping. I also had breakfast downtown and went over to see the house where the murders took place.”

  She said it so casually he might have missed the last part if he hadn’t been listening well enough. “Hold on. You did what?”

  “I went to see where those people were killed.” She kept eating like she hadn’t just confessed to breaking the law. He put down his fork and stared at her.

  “Are you nuts? Couldn’t you have just waited for Wil?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, her eyes flashing fire, when Wil appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Waited for me for what?”

  “She went to the crime scene today.”

  Merida shot him a killer glare and he knew he’d pay for it when they were alone.

  Wil sighed. “That probably wasn’t the best idea. If someone had caught you, you might have been arrested. Then you would have had to wait until my shift tonight for someone to bail you out.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Between the two of you superegos, I don’t know who is worse.” Merida dropped her fork on her plate and shoved it away.

  Wil closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes again, he threw Merida a reprimanding look. “Just wait next time, okay? It’s not good for you to be slinking around town, sneaking into places that are off-limits.”

  Merida rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut. Wil should count himself lucky for that—though she’d probably take it out on Royce later.

  Wil walked over to a mirror hanging just inside the doorway and tied his tie. “I have to work tonight. I tried to get the night off, but the department is shorthanded as it is, and with the murders, everyone is scared. I’ll see what I can do about getting out early, before sunrise, and then I’ll take you back to the house. I can fill you in on the way the bodies were found, and what information I have.”

  “Thank you.” The way Merida spoke worried Royce. She sounded a little too polite and accommodating. What did she have planned? He’d have to see that she didn’t sneak back out of the house without him again. If she got caught and arrested, it wouldn’t look good for any of them. Her presence had to be kept quiet, and he didn’t like her running around town alone.

  He didn’t like how she acted so nice to Wil, either. Why did she treat Wil with what seemed to border on respect when she didn’t have a nice word for him?

  Wil glanced down at the plate in front of Royce and shuddered. “What are you doing?”

  “Eating.”

  “I see that. But why?”

  Royce shrugged, his mood rapidly deteriorating. He glanced at Merida with narrowed eyes. She just smiled.

  “What did you find out in your travels today?” Wil asked as he sat down in the chair next to Merida.

  Royce’s hands clenched into fists and he heaved a sigh.

  Merida ignored him. “That your girlfriend, the reporter who wants to write a true crime book, lives in the same building where the murders took place and she thinks this is the work of some kind of cult.”

  Wil’s eyes widened and he sputtered. “Where the hell did you find all that out?”

  “Nancy at the diner.”

  “Teenagers.” Wil muttered the word like it was a curse. “Yeah, and I suppose you’re going to tell me Michelle is right. That humans caused the murder and it has nothing to do with anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Actually, that’s not true.” She pushed back from the table and put her half-full plate on the sideboard next to the sink. “I felt an entity there. Definitely not human, and definitely not benign. This guy meant to cause serious trouble, which he did, but I’m not sure if he’s done yet. The only thing I don’t know is if he’s tied to the house, or to a specific person.”

  “What does that mean?” Wil asked.

  She turned and propped her hip on the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “If he’s tied to the house, he won’t be able to leave the vicinity. If he’s tied to a person, he can go anywhere they go.”

  “How do we figure out which it is?”

  “I’ll need to spend more time there, search for a few more clues. I also need some information on the property the house sits on. Is that the original structure? Have any changes been made to it? Any strange happenings?”

  Wil let out a long, harsh breath. “I’ll make some phone calls and see what I can find out. Is there anything else we need to do now?”

  Merida shrugged. “Don’t know yet. For now we just wait and see what happens.”

  Royce had a feeling there was more to it than that, but she wasn’t talking. He decided to let the subject drop. For now. Later, when she’d had time to think about her fin
dings, he’d question her more.

  Wil stood, a frown on his face, and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. I don’t like doing nothing, but I guess we don’t really have a choice. I’ve got to go now before I’m late. You,” he pointed a finger at Merida, “try and stay put tonight. I’ll get whatever information you need and bring it here. And try not to kill each other while I’m gone, okay?” He walked out of the kitchen shaking his head.

  Merida turned her back on him again, this time to wash dishes. “What are your plans for tonight?” she asked without looking at him. “I’m assuming you have some things to do?”

  Her tone bothered him, but he couldn’t figure out why. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she might be jealous. A smile formed on his face. Did the fact that he needed to feed bother the little kitty? “Now that you mention it, I do need to go out and find a suitable donor. The steak only made me hungrier, and made me realize I haven’t had regular meals lately.”

  She spun on his, her wet hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even start. Can’t you wait until after I go to bed so I don’t have to think about you with some bimbo?”

  “Why? Does it bother you that I might go out and find another woman?”

  She picked up the dishtowel off the counter, dried her hands, and threw it at him. “Should it? I’ve been very clear with you from the start. I want nothing to do with you, vampire.”

  The look in her eyes told him different. She talked big, but she was still as attracted to him as he was to her. When she glared at him, something shifted inside him—a deep, gnawing hunger that had his control slipping a notch. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. He either had to leave and find food, or convince her to become his next meal. “Nothing to do with me, huh? So you have no interest in volunteering as a donor for the night?”

  He snapped his eyes open just in time to see the emphatic shake of her head. “If you think I want that, you’re even crazier than I thought. Get the hell out of here before I hurt you.”