The Hex Files: Wicked Moon Rising

by Gina LaManna

  “Looking for him?”

  I limped forward at the familiar voice, scowling as I rounded the corner and came face to face with Grey. “What are you doing here?”

  Grey hulked over the young man, dangling him off the ground like a cat might carry her kitten, and gave him a little shake. “Seems like your friend had some place to be and conveniently crashed right into me.”

  “I would really appreciate you leaving me alone while I’m on the job,” I said. “If you stopped interfering on my cases, maybe I wouldn’t end up injured half the time.”

  Grey glanced down at my toe and gave a wink. “Naturally, this is my fault.”

  I scowled, took the kid, and threw him on the broomstick without mercy. “What are you doing here? Who gave you your voice back?”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “A little.”

  “Matthew never should have showed you the...” Grey hesitated, cleared his throat. “File.”

  The kid looked curiously between us, and I gave the broom a little wiggle until he was holding on for dear life.

  “How do you know about that?” I asked. “I’m positive Matthew wouldn’t have told you.”

  “You’d be right,” Grey said. “Suffice to say—I hear things. I know people. I’ve been around a long time, Detective, and if I knew you’d gotten involved with... that, I would have said something a lot sooner.”

  “Say something tonight,” I said. “I’m not discussing this until I have me, you, and Matthew in a room.”

  “Dani—”

  At that moment, the punk made good on his promise. He leaned forward, puffed up his cheeks, and loosed a colorful breakfast all over my shoes.

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “Grey, I don’t have time for this. I’ll see you tonight. And in the meantime—leave me alone while I’m working. Understood?”

  Grey didn’t answer. As my Comm beeped urgently, he gave a pained nod and watched as I led the broomstick away while answering the chief’s call.

  Only after I turned the corner did I realize that he hadn’t been looking so hot. The normally stoic, charmingly playful Grey had lost the look of permanent amusement he tended to wear. Whatever he was afraid of, it was big. A part of me didn’t even want to know.

  “Detective, if you hang up on me again,” the chief was saying, “I will have your badge revoked, understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “What’s so urgent?”

  “I need you for a homicide. Apologies for the back-to-back, but this one is a doozy,” he said. “I need you there now.”

  I glanced down at my puke-spattered shoes. “I really need a shower.”

  “There’s a woman dead,” the chief said. “Just outside of The Depth. Five minutes south of the Howler. How soon can you be there?”

  I groaned. “People die every day, Chief. Can you give me a few minutes for a shower?”

  “We have homicides every day,” the chief said. “But it’s the cause of death that might catch your attention this time around.”

  I muttered another cleaning spell at my feet, annoyed that my ‘part time hours’ schedule was quickly becoming a ‘full time plus’ routine. “I’m holding my breath, sir.”

  “Cool your jets, DeMarco,” the chief said softly. “The woman’s dead by vampire bite.”

  “But that’s—” I held my breath as I considered. “It’s impossible. You must know that, Chief. There’s only one vampire in the borough.”

  “Exactly,” the chief said. “You still need that shower?”

  “CAPTAIN,” I SAID, GIVING Matthew a nod. “I trust you’re feeling better?”

  I’d handed off the chump change thief to the first cop who’d shown up on the scene and had hustled out of there so fast I’d barely managed to give him my name for the report. The shower had long since been forgotten.

  Matthew scanned me from head to toe. “I imagine you know the answer since you’ve obviously spoken to the wolf.”

  I grumbled about the unfairness of Matthew’s supersonic senses—it was wildly annoying that he could freaking smell every place I’d been. Even though I had nothing to hide, it was invasive. As if he had a GPS tracker on me 24/7.

  A look of distaste crossed his face. “Are you feeling okay, Detective?”

  “A bit surly,” I said, pushing past him to reach the caution tape that surrounded the crime scene. “Other than that, I’m fine. Why?”

  “You smell like vomit.”

  “Just what every girl wants to hear,” I said, scanning over the scene. “The jewel thief was queasy of heights. Have you been inside yet?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  The crime scene was located at the southeastern corner of the borough, just west of The Depth and just north of the Dead Lands. There wasn’t much out this way aside from a few farms and some rundown, lower income houses that sat back from the street in crumpled, dilapidated heaps.

  The woman’s body had been dumped unceremoniously at the end of the road. While it was in plain sight, this wasn’t the sort of neighborhood where folks sat on front porches shooting the breeze. Most windows were boarded up, and the ones that weren’t had suspicious looking cracks and holes in the glass. It was also the sort of neighborhood that didn’t exactly breed residents who volunteered information to the cops.

  “I’m guessing nobody saw anything?” I said to the officer checking in various law enforcement personnel on his log.

  “That’s about right,” Officer Peal, judging by his nametag, said as he glanced up. He looked first at my badge and gave a nod. “Chief was expecting you, Detective. But unfortunately, Captain King is not on my list.”

  My blood ran cold. “Captain King owns that list.”

  Matthew reached out, rested a hand inconspicuously on my lower back. It was enough to make me shut up at once. “I understand,” Matthew said simply. “Thank you, Officer.”

  “Matthew!” I was certain my face was torn between confusion and dismay as Matthew guided me off to the side. Eyes strayed toward us, but I didn’t care. I pushed his arm away and turned to face him. “Let me go. They can’t do this to you! Just because the cause of death is suspicious doesn’t mean you should be taken off the case. You’ve been an essential member of the Sixth Precinct forever.”

  “They’re not doing anything to me. They merely assigned other officers to the case.” Matthew allowed himself a small smile. “Let it go. I know other ways to blow off steam, and I’ll be happy to help you out with that later, in private. For now, you have a job to do.”

  “But—”

  “Detective.” Matthew’s eyes rested on mine, a heavy sadness there that hurt to see. “I have my orders and you have yours.”

  His meaning was clear as day. He watched me intensely, holding me pinned in place with his eyes. We both knew I couldn’t fight this. It would be a prime example of letting my emotions complicate our work situation—and that wasn’t healthy for anyone.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll, ah—catch you up later.”

  “Seven,” Matthew said, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “I heard your orders.”

  I gave him an impish smile. “Sorry. How did Willa reverse the spell?”

  “She didn’t,” Matthew said, looking a hint embarrassed. “Let’s just say I owe Felix a little favor.”

  I could barely stifle a laugh. “He had to love that.”

  “I’d love to kiss you,” Matthew said, so softly even I could barely hear. “But I’m not allowed to be here and people are watching. Until tonight, Detective.”

  Chapter 4

  “Time of death,” Sienna barked. “Three hours ago. Say—six this morning. This isn’t exactly a rise and shine sort of street, so our vic sat here for a while. The body wasn’t called in until thirty minutes ago. The sun warmed her up real fast, hence the lovely smell. Or is that you? It smells like someone upchucked all over you.”

  “I want to hear about the cause of death.”

  Sienna heaved a huge sigh. “J
udging by the steam coming from your ears, you’ve already heard. I’m afraid you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

  “I’m a homicide detective,” I told Sienna. “When do I ever like what I hear?”

  But Sienna didn’t give her usual little hint of a smile. There was no flicker of amusement in her eyes, except to glance up as Lieutenant DeMarco—my second oldest brother, Nash—edged over.

  “Good morning,” he said to us both. He must have sensed unease in the air because he raised his hands, palms facing out. “Is this a bad time?”

  “It’s a murder scene,” Sienna barked. “Of course it’s a bad time.”

  “She was detailing the cause of death,” I said. “Until you interrupted.”

  “Ah,” Nash said in a way that led me to believe he knew bad news was coming down the pipe line, too. He added false peppiness to his voice. “Well, carry on, then.”

  “Look here, Detective.” Sienna gestured toward the neck of the victim. “We’ve got two puncture wounds. I figured you’d need to see it for yourself to believe it.”

  I felt the first chills start in the tips of my toes. The chief might have teased me with the cause of death over the Comm, but it was one thing to hear it—and another thing entirely to see it with my own eyes.

  I ignored the sensations of discomfort and focused on the rest of the scene. The victim was a young, pretty woman with dark black hair that sprawled over the asphalt. She had Mediterranean coloring to her skin, tanned and exotic, with fine hairs on her arms darkening her complexion further.

  I studied her in more detail, noting plump lips that would have been attractive in life, but were a ghastly pale, on the verge of blue, in death. Her eyes were open, terrified, and I wanted more than anything to lean forward and close them gently. No doubt Sienna would take care of that the moment the scene was cleared.

  “I see that,” I said cautiously. “What caused the puncture wounds?”

  Nash and Sienna exchanged a look.

  I glanced up, caught sight of them midway, and scowled. “Stop with the eyeball canoodling. The chief told me cause of death over the Comm, but I want to hear it from you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sienna said softly. “I’m sure you’ll recognize this to be a vampire bite. I will need to confirm that in the lab before I know for certain, but it’s what the evidence suggests at the moment.”

  I felt my body go perfectly still as Sienna confirmed my worst nightmare. “There’s no way that’s possible,” I said, leaning forward for a better view. “I mean, yes—that does... it looks like a vamp bite, but how would it have gotten there?”

  “That’s your job,” Sienna said. “I just tell you what I’ve found on the body.”

  “Matthew’s the only registered vampire in the borough.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Sienna said. “It’s not official until I get the body on my table, but I’m almost certainly calling this a death by vampire bite, Detective.”

  “That’s impossible,” I said.

  Nash turned and stared into the distance at an uninteresting patch of clouds. Sienna rolled her eyes at him and, like usual, she didn’t mince words.

  “It’s nothing personal; it’s procedure.”

  “The hell it’s not something personal! This is his unit!”

  “Tell me what you see,” Sienna said. “There’s one easy way to clear the captain. Feel free.”

  I frowned at Sienna, but I had no rebuttal. “If you need Residuals to believe this wasn’t Matthew—”

  Sienna narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t bring your emotions into this, Detective. You need to separate your relationship with Matthew from the case. It’s my job, and yours, to doubt everything. So, button up those big girl panties and—”

  “Who has buttons on their panties?” Nash asked.

  “I agree with my brother,” I said. “That would be very uncomfortable.”

  “Maybe in your leather pants,” Sienna said. “You can’t fit anything under there they’re so damn tight.”

  Nash raised a finger. “I’m still curious if—”

  “Shut up,” Sienna and I both said at once, rounding on Nash.

  “This woman,” Sienna said, turning back to the body, “is dead by vampire bite. The sooner you face that fact, Detective, the sooner you can get to clearing your boyfriend’s name. I will examine the wounds for traces of venom, poisons, and the like, but I’m sure I’ll find the combination that’s on file for vamps. It’s already turning violet around the bite—find me a way to fake that effect, and I’ll eat my—”

  “We get it,” Nash said. “What do you see, Dani?”

  I took a deep breath and knew I couldn’t procrastinate any longer. As the only Reserve currently working for the Sixth Precinct, it was my job to read the Residuals at complex crime scenes. Residuals are the leftover magical crumbs that drop to the ground, cling to skin, and float through the air when a spell is invoked. Most people can’t see them. I’m the special flower who can. Sometimes it’s a blessing, other times, it’s a curse.

  Today it was feeling more and more like a curse.

  It was possible that by looking at the Residuals, I could either condemn or free the man I loved. A position that was uncomfortable to be in, especially because I could feel the weight of the others’ expectations on my shoulders.

  “We don’t have all day,” Sienna said, anxiously scanning the crowd. “What do you think?”

  I glanced behind me, looking for the cause of Sienna’s concern. Sienna didn’t fret for no reason, nor did she startle easily. Her discomfort was contagious, as if we were being watched, appraised, doing underhanded dealings of some sort.

  I exhaled a deep breath and focused on the only thing I could control: My ability to see Residuals. Studying the body, I filtered through the first round of standard spells and charms that naturally clung to supernatural creatures.

  I filtered past the pale pink Spell Splash—basic protection for most paranormals—and past the bits of purple and red and green that were fading rapidly, floating away in the breeze like dust. They were all spells invoked from others, not powerful enough to leave a big mark—standard street magic.

  “Interesting,” I muttered as I glanced at her hands.

  “Well?” Nash sounded annoyed. “What is it?”

  “Her hands...” I knelt, squinted, studied. “I don’t think she makes a habit of doing magic. I’m not even sure she can do magic.”

  Sienna’s face went from concerned to analytical in a flash. “What are you seeing?”

  “Well, as you know—different species have different levels of spell casting abilities,” I said. “That makes them look different from a Residuals perspective. A witch or wizard’s hands will have a permanent sort of glow to them, so long as they’re using magic consistently in their day to day lives. It’s impossible to wipe off—like a mechanic might have darkened nails, or a construction worker would have calloused palms. It’s just the nature of the job.”

  “And?” Nash pressed.

  “She has nothing,” I said. “Zip, zero, nada Residuals on her fingers. I mean, the only spells on her at all are ones that others have cast.”

  “A Street Sweep?” Sienna asked.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “A light coat.”

  We’d named the standard smattering of Residuals a “Street Sweep” for ease of documentation. There was no way I could document every hint of Moving Magic or Cloaker or Shusher that brushed off on a person, so when I told Sienna the body was clean save for a Street Sweep, she knew I meant there was nothing more than a smattering of spells clinging to the vic’s clothes.

  “What about the bigger spells?” Sienna asked, glancing over her shoulder. “Anything there?”

  “Are you rushing me out of here or what?” I asked. “I’m getting there.”

  I had a particular order I sorted through Residuals. First, I documented the small everyday spells. One never knew when it might be relevant to the case—a Fetcher or a Lo
ck Lifter or a Cloaker might come in to play later. I hated to rule anything out prematurely.

  Once I got the basics on paper and recorded, I moved onto the big zones. The obvious ones. The deadly ones.

  “She was part of some big magic,” I said slowly, focusing on the almost blindingly white Residuals around her left arm. “In fact, it looks...” I hesitated.

  “What is it?” Sienna pressed.

  “I think...” I stopped again. “I think she might be a werewolf.”

  Sienna and Nash shared another one of those looks they were so good at these days.

  “What makes you say that?” Nash asked. “How can you tell?”

  “Well, there’s a hunk of magic—a ridiculous amount of binding magic. I’ve only ever seen anything like it on blooded members of the Sixth Pack,” I said. “It’s all over her. It must be recent.”

  Sienna cleared her throat. “As a matter of fact—”

  I wasn’t listening. Instead I knelt, raised my hands to show I’d let the tech at the front cover me with a Fingerprint Eraser so as not to disturb the crime scene, and turned to Sienna. “Can I pull up her sleeve?”

  Sienna gave a nod.

  The woman was wearing a loose, long-sleeved black shirt. The type that was supposed to be buttoned, but she’d left hanging open to reveal a low-cut tank top underneath. Tugging the sleeve up, I held my breath as the very edge of a tattoo peeked out. The one I’d suspected would be there, newly minted on her arm.

  “She was initiated last night,” Sienna said quietly. “It was her first shift during the full moon. This morning she was found dead.”

  “She would have been very weak when she was killed,” Nash said. “It’s exhausting for werewolves to shift during the full moon and spend all night in their animal form. Especially the first time.”

  “Wolves can do serious damage to vamps under normal circumstances,” Sienna said, studying the bite marks. “They’re as equal of a match as can be. You know that better than most of us. But this one...she wouldn’t have been a threat. She was too new, and if a vampire had wanted to take her on, well, you can see the results for yourself.”