by Jasmine Walt
“You don’t have to do that,” I mumbled, at war with myself over how he’d made me feel.
He respected the set boundary and took a seat in the wing-backed chair across from me, the cushions rustling a bit under his weight. His eyes glimmered as he sat back, looking for all the world like a stern, imposing lord awaiting his vassal to carry out his orders.
“I know I dinnae have to, Detective, but frankly, we’re a bit short on time. So the sooner ye relax enough to stop yer silent musings and tell me what happened, the better.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Of course. A nice gesture from him was always anything but. The one thing I could count on was for the man to hide a selfish desire behind his every action.
“Someone’s been following me,” I bit out, nails digging into the pillow I’d dragged onto my lap. “They’ve been leaving messages for me.”
“What sort of messages?” Maddock asked, his eyes darkening. “Ye havna mentioned this before.”
“It’s only been happening the last couple days,” I said, sounding more defensive than I’d like. “It’s always the same message: I KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE,” I added, affecting an ominous tone as I made air-quotes with my fingers. “It’s never happened when anyone else was around, so I thought I was imagining it. But today the message appeared on a glass refrigerator door at a crime scene I was working on, and Baxter almost saw it. I’m convinced that whoever it is knows I killed Father James.”
“A threat, hmm,” Maddock mused, tapping his chin as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Have ye been approached by anyone suspicious recently, or noticed anyone watching ye?”
I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “Aside from these weird messages, everything has been normal.” Whatever “normal” meant in this new life of mine, I added silently.
“Well, I’ll certainly look into it, but not tonight,” Maddock said, standing. “Right now we have important things to do, and we’re already running late.”
“Running late for what?” I demanded, shooting to my feet. How could Maddock act so calm about this? Was he really this selfish? “Where would we need to go that’s more important than dealing with a stalker that wants to expose what we did?”
“What you did,” Maddock corrected. “And we have a dinner date,” he added, waving his hand toward the dress and heels by my side. “Now get dressed. We’re already running late.”
Chapter 4
What I did, I thought, fuming from the passenger’s seat of Maddock’s Aston Martin as we zipped along the I-90. What I did! As if Maddock had no part at all in Father James’s death, or any of the crazy shit that had gone down since I arrived here in Salem. What a pompous bastard he was, laying all the blame at my feet!
“Quit yer sulking,” Maddock ordered, his eyes on the road. “No man finds that sort of look attractive on a woman.”
I let out a huff, crossing my arms over my very exposed chest. “I wasn’t intending to put on a show tonight,” I reminded him.
I’d come to Maddock’s house looking for guidance, and for what I thought would be another private training session. Instead, he’d shoved me into a skin-tight black dress and these stupid heels, then marched me out the door and into his car.
“Aye, but plans change.” Maddock didn’t take his eyes off the road even once—hell, he’d barely given me more than a cursory glance after I’d changed into my clothes and done my makeup and hair as he’d asked.
To be fair, I’d done the same for work in Chicago when I’d had to go undercover a time or two, but that had stopped after I’d gotten promoted to Detective, and I’d been glad for that. The last thing I wanted was a time warp back to those days.
That said, I couldn’t say some part of me didn’t like it. I looked pretty damn good considering this was all on short notice. I’d used a couple clips I’d dug out of the bottom of my purse to pile my hair into a messy, but elegant updo with a few silver curls hanging down around my face, and I’d gone for a smoky-eyed look and plum-colored lipstick. After the last couple weeks, I needed this. Just earlier today, I’d felt as though I looked like death; now though, when I glanced at myself in the mirror, I thought I looked pretty damn sexy. But clearly Maddock didn’t think so.
And for some reason, that annoyed the ever living shit out of me.
Whatever. I looked out the window and up at the night sky. I wasn’t in this outfit to impress Maddock. We were on our way to some kind of supernatural soiree. I didn’t really know why we were going—Maddock was tight-lipped as usual—but I did know he’d said it was a training exercise to put my newfound abilities to use.
Not that he was specifying which ones, of course. Apparently that was ‘need to know’ info, and I didn’t ‘need to know.’ Yet.
As annoyed as I was with the abrupt change in plans, I had to admit I was a little excited at the prospect of dipping my toes back into the supernatural community that I knew precious little about. In Chicago, there had only been vampires, after all. But when I’d stumbled across Maddock’s club, ENVY, hidden away in the heart of downtown Salem, I’d discovered the fae, as well. And I’d discovered witches after I’d taken on the Onyx Order. What other entities had I yet to meet?
I mulled over these thoughts as we drove in silence. Twenty minutes later, we passed the sign for Weston, Massachusetts. Maddock took the exit, heading into the town. A quick Google search on my phone told me Weston was an affluent suburban town in the Boston metro area, known for its luxurious homes. It was a lot smaller than Boston, with lots of tiny, locally owned shops lining the streets, though it was still bigger than Salem.
A winding road shaded by trees took us through colonial style homes clustered into family-friendly neighborhoods, with plenty of signs on the side of the roads telling cars to watch for children. It seemed perfectly normal—definitely not the kind of place one expected to find witches or fae.
But then again, the supernatural community’s survival hinged on their ability to hide in plain sight.
As we neared the top of the hill, the trees thinned out, revealing a magnificent, five-acre property that sprawled across the peak. Up ahead, nestled in the center of the meticulously maintained grounds, was an English Tudor mansion that looked like something straight out of a fairytale. Street lamps lined the road as well as the outside of the mansion, casting a warm glow over the property, and light spilling from the casement windows and the open front doors made the place inviting.
A line of cars was already stretching out from the roundabout and onto the road. Maddock pulled to a stop behind a wine red Cadillac. Everyone seemed to be in a luxury car, which made me wonder exactly what the purpose of this soiree was. Was it a fundraiser? A chance for hobnobbing? Did only the wealthy supernaturals get to come to these things? Or were all supernaturals wealthy because they had powers and were generally long-lived?
“How long do witches live?” I asked aloud. I was half-witch, after all. “Do we have normal lifespans like humans?”
“Ye should,” Maddock said, still not looking at me. “But the magic that witches steal tends to lengthen their lifespans. The older they get, the more they have to take to maintain their youthfulness.”
“Huh.” I started to chew on my lower lip, then remembered my make-up. Annoyed, I dug my plum-colored lipstick out of the black clutch purse Maddock had given me and began to reapply it. “Well, I guess that explains the stereotype of the old hag witch performing evil spells to stay young.”
“Indeed,” Maddock said dryly. He eased his foot off the brake, and we rolled forward a few feet as the line moved. “Although in yer case, I’m not certain it’s necessary. Ye are half-fae after all.”
“Yeah.” I put my lipstick back in my bag, then leaned back against my seat. It was so weird to think that my parents, whom I had never met at all, were both supernaturals.
I wondered if either of my parents had any fae ancestry, and that’s why I’d reincarnated through them as a half fae even though they were both
witches, to my knowledge. In my experience, the fae were extraordinarily tough—even the lower castes seemed hard to kill. And yet Father James had managed to take both their lives in his quest to get his hands on me.
My hands fisted in my lap as hot anger rushed through me. I wished I could have kept Father James alive long enough to squeeze out some information about my parents. He would have been able to tell me more about them. But he’d had me at his mercy, and my only thought when I’d latched onto his soul and bled him dry of power was to preserve my own life, and Maddock’s.
As Maddock finally inched us into the roundabout, my gaze cut to the front entrance. Two valets hustled between the cars, one helping the guests and the other parking the vehicles. One of the men, dressed in a dark suit, helped a woman in a glittering red dress out of a Porsche. He was extraordinarily pale skinned, and as a cloud drifted away from the moon, I caught a flash of red in his eyes.
“What the fuck!” I sat up straight in my seat, gripping my clutch as tight as I could without breaking it. “Tremaine, that’s a vampire!”
“Aye, nothing gets by you, Detective,” Maddock said, his lips twitching into a faint smile for the first time tonight. “That is to be expected, since this soiree is being hosted by the Massachusetts Vampire Clan.”
“You didn’t say that!” Blood rushed to my cheeks as I whipped my body around to face Maddock. “You didn’t mention anything about vampires when we left your house. I didn’t even bring my vampire gun!” Not that I would have had anywhere to put it. There was no way to fit it in this tiny ass purse, and the dress I wore was too tight to hide a gun underneath.
“Ye won’t need a gun,” Maddock said flatly as he pulled to a stop in front of the entrance. “I’ll protect ye.”
I opened my mouth, fully intending to rip him a new one, but he curled his fingers around my thigh, stealing both the words from my mouth and air from my lungs. A combination of infuriating feelings rushed through me then: annoyance, anger, and most upsettingly, arousal. At his touch, my body betrayed me, sending a heat spreading through my stomach that overrode every sensible thought in my mind.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, eyeing his hand with as much disgust as I could muster.
Maddock’s eyebrow arched. “The show starts now, Detective. It would be good of ye if ye didna look at me as though ye wanted to rip my entrails out and stomp all over them. Now smile.”
Before I could say another word, the vampire valet opened the door. Maddock gave me a warning look, and I clamped my lips shut and turned to face one of the creatures I’d spent many a night hunting down and staking with my vampire bullets. Vampires were the enemy. That’s what I’d always been taught.
“Good evening,” the valet said in a voice like silk. He smiled, showing just a hint of fang, and I reluctantly took his offered hand. I repressed a shudder at the feel of his icy skin against mine—what the fuck was Hollywood thinking, romanticizing these guys? Sure, they were good-looking, and yes, I normally didn’t mind cold things. But red-blooded women wanted red-blooded guys, and I couldn’t imagine rolling in the sheets with one of these vamps would feel any different to having sex with a marble statue in the middle of winter.
The vampire handed me off to Maddock, who was already waiting on the walkway. Despite my annoyance with Maddock, I was glad to take his arm, to feel the heat radiating off his big, powerful body as he guided me up the covered walkway and inside the mansion. Maddock Tremaine might not be human, but at least he was a living, breathing individual.
A vampire servant waiting inside the door greeted us, then took our coats. Ignoring the buzzing along my spine that insisted I impale the guy on the nearest piece of wood I could find, I let my gaze wander along the space. The foyer was huge, a crystal chandelier dripping from the high ceiling and casting a warm glow over the cream walls and black and gold carpet. The furniture was black lacquered wood, and the black roses sitting atop the table in the center gave off a dark, spicy-sweet fragrance that reminded me a little of Maddock’s own scent.
“Stay alert,” Maddock murmured as he tucked me tighter against his body and led me toward the double curving staircase that led to the second floor. Music and laughter drifted from up above, and there were guests leaning against the balcony, drinks dangling from their well-manicured fingers as they chatted. “And let me know if you sense any potent magical objects.”
“Sure thing, boss,” I muttered sarcastically. My senses were tingling all over—it would be harder not to run into something magical here. I suspected that the jewelry many of the women wore was not just for show, and that many of the men likely had magical objects as well.
As Maddock steered us toward the party room, quite a few people nodded or called out greetings. I was surprised and relieved to see that many of them were not vampires. Most were fae of some kind; they looked human when I stared at them directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught glimpses of scaly skin and otherworldly eyes. There were witches, too—men and women who seemed mostly human, but my senses caught a glow about them that suggested otherwise.
The one thing all these people had in common were the calculating, hungry stares they all leveled my way. How many of them knew I was a shadow, and how many of them were simply curious and/or sensed something different about me? Word had probably spread. It was unlikely someone could destroy an entire witch coven, even if said coven had been hidden away, without causing ripples in the supernatural community.
Maybe Uncle Oscar had a point after all, a voice whispered in my head. Coming to Salem and using your powers seems to be drawing some very unwelcome attention.
Stop that, I scolded myself. There was no point in second-guessing my decision, not after all I’d already been through. It was too late to run away from my heritage, even if I wanted to. The only thing I could do was embrace it and fight anyone who tried to get in my way.
“Smile,” Maddock murmured, squeezing my arm as we entered the party. “We’re about to meet the Clan Mistress.”
I stiffened at that, then forced myself to relax and pasted an easy smile on my face. More people turned to watch us as Maddock guided us through a crowded round room with tall, arched glass windows lining the half facing the rear garden of the estate. The walls were stacked stone, the curtains a deep, dark red, and the carpet beneath my feet was black with swirls of gold. Buffet tables laden with finger foods were set up along the walls, and waiters drifted by with glasses of champagne and what looked suspiciously like blood.
A pale-skinned woman stood near one of the windows, holding court with the crowd gathered around her. She was a stunning specimen, with flame red hair flowing down her back, her willowy form clothed in a backless, sapphire blue sheath dress. Diamonds winked from the choker wrapped around her pale neck, glittering nearly as bright as her pale blue eyes. At her side was a handsome man, with raven hair and sharp features. He wore a dark suit with a blood red rose tucked into the front pocket, and there was a flush to his cheeks and lips that suggested he’d recently fed.
My blood boiled, and it was all I could do to keep my composure as we approached. The crowd parted a little, as if sensing Maddock’s presence—apparently he was a bigger fish than most of them, judging by the glimpses of fear, respect, and envy in their eyes. Even the Mistress locked eyes with us.
“Maddock Tremaine,” she drawled, a hint of a French accent in her light, feminine voice. A coy smile curved her painted lips. “It has been awhile.”
“Mistress Delavergne,” Maddock said, bowing over her hand. “It is a pleasure to see ye again.” He brushed his lips against her pale skin, then straightened and turned to me. “This is my companion, Brooke Chandler.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, trying my best to sound as if I meant it. I dropped into an awkward curtsy, wishing like hell Maddock had told me I was essentially meeting royalty tonight.
“Are you?” the vampire mistress asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she regarded me. “Somehow I
sense that you don’t appreciate my kind very much, Miss Chandler. I have heard rumors of a shadow coming around these parts, wielding a vampire staking gun that she is very much not afraid to use.” She tapped a manicured fingernail against the rim of her glass, still half full with blood.
A chill ran down my spine, but I forced myself to remain calm. “Just as you and yours are not afraid to use your claws and fangs,” I returned easily. “I merely fight to keep myself and others safe, and as I’ve heard you’re a gracious host, I am confident I will have no reason to lift a finger in defense of my life tonight.”
The vampire mistress threw back her head and laughed. It was a warm sound, completely at odds with the fact that she was an undead bitch who was powered solely by human blood.
“You have a quick wit,” she said, raising her glass to me.
Maddock pressed a flute of champagne into my hand, and we raised our glasses and drank. Blood trickled out from the corner of the vampire mistress’s mouth, and she licked it away with relish. I had no doubt that was a deliberate act meant to push my buttons, and I studiously ignored it.
“Naturally, you are under my protection for tonight,” Mistress Delavergne continued as she set her now empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “So long as you respect my house and my rules, no harm shall come to you. But…” Her voice trailed off briefly as her eyes dropped to the clutch purse in my left hand. “If you had come here tonight bearing your gun, I would have had you killed before you set foot over the threshold. Remember that, before thinking to raise a hand against me.”
“Thank ye, Mistress,” Maddock said, cutting in before I could react to the threat. He inclined his head, then tucked me in against his body. “We won’t take up any more of yer time.”
“Enjoy the party,” she said, and then Maddock steered me back into the crowd.
