by Lisa Edmonds
Malcolm had been spending a lot of time at her house lately. Considering what Natalie had been through in the past couple of weeks, having a ghost as her new best friend seemed strangely appropriate.
Natalie shifted on the couch. “The hardest part was lying to the detective who came by. I hated to lie, but the vampire, Mr. Vaughan, explained it was best if I said I didn’t know anything about Amelia or what happened.”
The more I heard about how Natalie was dealing with everything, the more impressed I was with her newfound moxie. The Natalie who sat in front of me today was very different from the one I’d met two weeks ago at Janie’s Downtown Café. Since learning about her grandmother’s magic and her own abilities, and especially after what she’d done to save our lives at the construction site, Natalie had toughened up considerably.
“I have some good news for you,” I told her. “I’m going to be interviewing a couple of potential mentors for you in the next few days. With any luck, I’ll find someone to help you with your magic soon.”
“I’m glad,” Natalie said. “Are you sure you can’t do it? I’d be so much more comfortable with you.”
“I would if I could, but I don’t have fire magic, and you really need someone who has the same kind of magic you do. I’ll stay in touch, though, and keep track of how your training is going.” I smiled at her. “I’m excited for you. I look forward to seeing you show off your skills.”
It occurred to me then that Natalie had never gotten to see real magic up close; she’d seen it almost kill me twice, and Amelia killed three of her relatives to get more of it. For her, it was still a scary unknown. I hesitated, then asked, “Do you want to come over to my house sometime this week and see some cool magic?”
“Sure!” She lit up and looked at me hopefully. “Can you show me something now?”
I held out my right hand, palm up, and a tendril of bright green flame spiraled up. Natalie gasped in wonder. I spun the single flame into a small fireball, then blew gently, sending it floating across toward her.
She watched it move, her eyes wide with awe. “Will I be able to do this?”
“That’s earth magic. You have fire magic. You’ll be able to do that, but your fire will be hot instead of cold.” I crooked my fingers and the fireball zipped back to me. I let it grow until it consumed my entire hand. We sat and watched the bright green flames dance.
“That’s incredible,” Natalie said. “It’s so beautiful.”
I looked into the flames. “Yes, it is.”
Finally, I drew the magic back into my hand, and the fire went out.
“How long before I can do things like that?” Natalie asked.
“It will take a while,” I told her honestly. “Learning control takes time and hard work, but children learn to control their magic. You will too. I’ll find you the best teacher I can.”
“Thank you, Alice. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” I got up and went to the kitchen.
As I was standing at the sink rinsing out my mug, I glanced out the window.
And froze.
A familiar black BMW was parked across the street. Inside, behind the dark-tinted glass, I saw a single figure, sitting motionless, as if watching the house.
“Shit,” I breathed.
The car glided smoothly away from the curb and drove past Natalie’s house, only to make a three-point turn and come back. I moved away from the window as the BMW rolled slowly past my car, as if John West wanted a good look at it. Then the car took off down the street, paused at the stop sign, and disappeared around the corner.
*
A few days later, I was sitting on my couch in the middle of the afternoon, holding a mug of coffee that had long since gone cold and staring blankly at my empty living room.
For days, I’d barely slept. Nightmares left me restless and prowling the house at night. I’d gotten so crabby from lack of sleep that Malcolm had taken refuge at Natalie’s house. I was letting my voice mail take my calls. I had two messages from Adri, three from Sean, two from Natalie, and a couple from my office line that were probably potential clients. They sat untouched in my inbox.
At a little after two, I heard heavy footsteps on my porch and someone knocked on my front door.
I frowned and made no move to get up. I wasn’t expecting visitors and had no desire to talk to anyone. Besides, I hadn’t showered or even brushed my hair and I was wearing pajamas and a robe.
More knocking, much louder this time. It sounded like someone’s fist. My frown deepened. “Go away,” I muttered. Apparently, whoever it was couldn’t take a hint.
My phone rang. Listlessly, I picked it up and glanced at the screen: Adri Smith. Damn it, were they still watching my house? I thought I’d made it clear I didn’t appreciate being spied on.
With a snarl that would have made a werewolf proud, I swiped at the phone’s screen, rejecting the call. I stomped to the front door and peered through the peephole.
When I saw who was on my porch, I froze.
“Ms. Worth, please open the door.” The voice was calm, with an authoritative tone that set my teeth on edge.
Reluctantly, I turned the deadbolt and opened the door.
If Special Agent Lake was taken aback by my dishevelment, or the fact I was wearing pajamas at two o’clock in the afternoon, he didn’t let on. His eyes swept over me analytically before meeting my gaze. “Good afternoon, Ms. Worth,” he said, reaching into his inside jacket pocket for his identification. “I’m sure you remember me.”
“I do, but I’d like to see your credentials anyway.” The last time he’d shown them to me, I’d had a flashlight in my face and hadn’t been able to read them.
Lake flipped open the leather wallet and held it up. The top section contained the SPEMA seal and next to it, his photo and name: Special Agent Trent Lake. Below was his shield. I looked at the picture for a moment, then studied the man as he returned his ID to the inside pocket his suit jacket.
No coat today; it was warm and sunny, and he wore a dark gray suit with a blue tie that matched his eyes. Up close and in the light of day, I could see a faint scar on his chin and another that had split his left eyebrow. In my bare feet, I felt dwarfed by his size.
I stood in my doorway and regarded him with a distinctly unwelcoming stare. “What brings you to my door, Agent Lake?”
Lake gave me a smile that was surprisingly charming. “Can we go inside?”
“Nope, not unless you have a warrant.”
The smile faded. “I’m not an enemy, Ms. Worth.”
That was debatable. “You’re not a friend, either.” I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind me. “Where is Agent Parker today?”
“At a crime scene.” He was watching me closely. “The local police have called us in to help with the investigation into the murders at the Browning Construction site.”
I probably deserved an Oscar for the mildly interested expression I gave him. “I heard about that. Really awful. Mages like this Amelia Walker give all of us a bad name.”
“Wharton,” Lake corrected me.
His gaze was intense, but I didn’t blink. “Oh. Wharton. Right.” I shrugged. “I’d never heard of her before she was in the news. I thought I read somewhere that she was from Portland.”
“That’s what it looks like. You’re sure you didn’t know her?”
I frowned, feigning puzzlement. “I’m sure,” I assured him. “I don’t know anybody in Portland. Plus, I stay away from blood mages. They’re dangerous.”
Lake stared at me, saying nothing.
I raised my eyebrows and leaned back against the doorframe. “Any particular reason why you’d think I’d know a blood mage from Portland?”
“I wondered, since the victims were all related to your client, Natalie Newton.” I saw a flash in Lake’s eyes that said, Gotcha.
I blinked at him innocently. You’ve got nothing, Lake. “That is true. Both Natalie and I were very surprised
—and horrified—by what happened to her uncles and aunt. I’m sure Natalie told you she never met or heard of Amelia Wharton. Neither had I, until I saw it on the news.” I tilted my head. “How did you know Natalie was one of my clients?”
“We’ve been speaking to members of the extended family, gathering background information on the victims. When I met with Ms. Newton yesterday, I remembered seeing you together at Janie’s Café downtown, and she told me she’d hired you to put wards around her home.”
“Ah,” I said, mentally applauding Natalie for successfully bluffing Lake. “You’ve got a good memory for faces, Agent Lake.”
“It comes in handy in investigative work. As a private detective, I’m sure you agree.” The smile was back. If I didn’t know it was nothing more than an interrogation technique, I might have been fooled by it.
“Oh, definitely.” I regarded him. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with your current investigation. I didn’t know Amelia Wharton.”
“But you did know Natalie’s aunts and uncles,” Lake said.
I strongly suspected he was fishing, trying to catch me off guard. I declined to bite the hook. “I spoke to a couple of them, very briefly, while I was looking for the person who had attempted to enter Natalie’s home without her knowledge. I wouldn’t say I ‘know’ any of them.”
“So you spoke to the victims?” Lake pounced on that. “Why didn’t you mention that?”
“I only spoke to Peter Eppright and Kathy Adams for a few minutes. Once I determined they hadn’t gotten into her home, I had no further contact with them.”
“How did you know they hadn’t been in her house?”
“Interested in my investigative techniques, Agent Lake?”
“Simply curious.”
I shrugged. “It was rather straightforward, actually. Whoever crossed the wards left magic trace behind. No one in Natalie’s family has magic, so it was easy enough to rule them out. We’ve suspended the investigation pending any new information.” I met his gaze without flinching. He might suspect my involvement, but there was zero evidence tying me to the construction site. As long as I kept my cool, he had nothing.
Lake reached into his pocket. I tensed, but he only pulled out a card and handed it to me. “If you think of anything that might help us, please give me a call. My cell number is on there.”
I tucked the card into the pocket of my robe. “I’ll certainly do that,” I lied.
We looked at each other. His gaze was sharp. Mine was guileless.
Finally, Lake squared his shoulders. “All right. Have a good afternoon.” He turned to leave.
Just as I reached for the doorknob, Lake turned back, one foot on the porch steps. “Oh, one more question.”
His casual tone immediately put me on alert. “Yes?”
“When I ran into you at the café, I noticed your earrings. Where did you get them? I remember thinking my sister would love a pair like that.”
I shrugged. “I made them.”
“I see.” Lake dug in his pocket and pulled something out. “Did they look something like this?” He held out his hand, stepping back up onto the porch so I could see what he was holding.
My earring.
It was sooty, the wire bent, the crystal cracked and dark, but I recognized it just the same. Apparently, so had Lake.
I remembered how when I came to at the construction site, all my jewelry was gone, removed by either Amelia or Peter Eppright. Charles had told me they’d taken everything of mine and Natalie’s from the crime scene before the fire, but it appeared they’d missed at least one piece of my jewelry, and Lake had found it.
I frowned and looked at the earring. “Sort of, but mine had little beads at the top. Not all crystal jewelry is the same, you know.”
Lake’s gaze was razor-sharp. “I’m pretty sure this is yours, Ms. Worth. Guess where I found it.”
“It’s not my earring,” I told him flatly. “I have mine.”
“Then let’s see them.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Agent Lake, I don’t have to show you anything.” I did have another pair, actually—not exactly the same, but very similar—but I would be damned if this man was going to bully me into getting them.
He shifted his feet, planting himself more firmly in place on my porch. “Show me your earrings and I’ll go.”
Despite our height difference, I refused to be intimidated. “You’ll go anyway, since you don’t have a warrant.”
We stared at each other.
“Ms. Worth, I’m starting to think you know something about what happened to those people.”
“Agent Lake, I’m starting to think you’re grasping at straws,” I countered. “That is not my earring, I have never been to that construction site, and I do not know anything more than what I have told you.”
It occurred to me then that Lake having my earring in his pocket wasn’t exactly procedure. If he was treating it as evidence, it should be in an evidence bag, its chain of custody clearly preserved. It looked more like he’d found the earring while poking around in the debris and decided to do a little independent investigation.
The corners of my mouth twitched when realization dawned. If he told anyone how he knew me, it might jeopardize the official story of how Scott Grierson, the half-demon “Full Moon Stalker,” ended up dead in the park with a knife through his eye. Lake and Parker had already taken credit for bringing an end to Grierson’s killing spree; there was no room in their tidy narrative for my involvement. So Agent Lake was in a bit of a pickle: he suspected it was my earring but couldn’t tell anyone why he thought that. No one would believe he remembered it from a chance encounter between strangers in a café weeks ago.
I met Lake’s gaze. “I’m sorry I don’t have any information that might help you. I’m sure Amelia Wharton was nothing more than a sick, delusional woman who murdered three people in some bizarre blood magic ritual and then died when she lost control of it and brought the building down on herself.”
Lake seemed to be weighing my words. “It would help our investigation a great deal to have corroboration from someone who was there,” he said finally. “If someone was merely a witness—or an intended victim—there would be no reason for that person to fear prosecution, or even have their name released.” His piercing blue gaze took in the shadows under my eyes, my tangled hair, and the robe I’d thrown on over my pajamas because actually getting dressed seemed like too much effort.
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, as if he could see the nightmares in my head. My expression grew cold. “I’m sure it would, but just looking at the scene on the news, it seems unlikely anyone got out of there alive.”
“Or at least, nobody got out unscathed.” Lake glanced meaningfully at the burned remains of my earring.
“Well, it’s been lovely chatting with you.” I turned toward my front door. “Best of luck in your investigation.”
“I know you were there, Ms. Worth.”
I spun back around.
Lake held up his hand to stop my angry retort. “I may not be able to prove it yet, and maybe there’s nothing more to what happened than, as you say, a woman who sacrificed three victims and lost control of the ritual. But that’s twice now you’ve been in the middle of something big here in the city. I think it would be in my best interest to keep an eye on you from now on.”
“I’m just a private investigator. I’m nobody.” My heart pounded so loudly, I feared he could hear it. “I’m not worth your time.”
“I disagree. I think you are. See you around, Alice Worth.”
With that threat hanging in the air, Lake turned and headed down the steps toward the unmarked black SUV parked at the curb, tucking my earring back into his pocket as he walked.
I went inside, slammed the door, and locked it. Then I thumped my forehead against the doorframe and took a deep, shaky breath.
See you around, Alice Worth.
Fantastic.
THE END
Than
k you for reading! Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next book of the Alice Worth novels.
But first, want an exclusive look at the playlist for HEART OF MALICE? Check out her website.
www.lisaedmonds.com
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~~~
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Fire in the Blood
Lisa Edmonds
Coming soon from City Owl Press
Prologue
When the half-drunk graveyard shift cook with singed eyebrows and Johnnie Walker breath says you’re looking rough, you know you’ve got problems.
“Thanks,” I said wearily, dropping my change into the tip jar by the register and heading for the door.
“Your food!” the cook hollered, gesturing with his spatula at the counter, where I’d left behind an empty coffee pot and untouched club sandwich.
“Guess I wasn’t hungry after all.” I pushed the door open and headed out to the parking lot.
When I’d arrived, despite it being after midnight, the only available spot in the tiny lot next to Nancy’s Diner was at the back near the dumpster. I unlocked my car, tossed my bag onto the passenger seat, and started to get in.
Someone screamed.
My head whipped around. The sound cut off abruptly, but not before I was already running toward the alley on the other side of the dumpster.
When I rounded the corner, I saw what looked like three or four people fighting about twenty feet away. As I got closer and my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized with horror that three young men had cornered a blonde girl by a large trash bin. She kicked wildly as one of them tried to pin her against the wall and another covered her mouth while the third yanked her bag away and dumped it on the ground.
