Marcy rubbed her hand over the bark. She looked at me. “He’s not upset that you bumped into him. He was worried he’d hurt you if you hit him.”
I sighed. She was so weird at times.
“And he said Gilbert will feel bad later when he sobers up,” she said, heading over to the sports car’s passenger side.
I paused and glanced at Brett to find him watching us all closely.
Dana side-eyed me. “Is she saying the deer was drunk?”
“Yes, I think so,” I returned. “Fermented berries?”
Marcy had always had a fascinating way of looking at life. Combined with her eccentric ways, she made the world a very interesting place to be.
Seven
Brett
Brett stood there on the side of the street, watching as Poppy drove off in her old truck named Geraldine. He could still remember her working with Tuck Proctor on that truck in the detached garage behind her grandparents’ home. It had been something she and her grandfather had spent hours doing together. Brett had even joined in a number of times, helping her grandfather with the heavy lifting. He loved getting the extra time around Poppy, so it had been with grease-covered hands.
And now she was back.
His mind reeled with the implications of having her in Grimm Cove full time and the fact she was divorced. When he got a chance, he’d phone his mother and ask why she’d neglected to mention that ginormous factoid. It wasn’t as if he didn’t see or speak to his mother on a nearly daily basis, and she knew darn well he was in love with the woman.
He should have known as much on his own without the help of his mother. But the serial killer, whom they had yet to catch had dropped another nine bodies in the town limits over the past six months. That brought the body count to thirteen. They did have something of a break in the case when one of the newer victims was found to have had breast implants that had been able to be traced.
Even with the identity of the victim, they were still left with more questions than answers, especially since the victim ended up being anything but human. Brett had been present when the woman’s body had been found in the same woods as the rest. He, along with a large number of supernaturals with enhanced senses of smell, had smelled nothing more than human. No traces of the woman being a supernatural. But when the implants had tracked back to a known witch, the entire investigation had to be overhauled.
They’d gotten tunnel vision, assuming all the victims were human.
They knew better now.
When the victim’s age was put forth, the medical examiner and Brett had been baffled. The body they had gave every indication of being older than mid-twenties. The examiner kept going on and on about cellular damage and normal signs of aging and how he’d have eaten his hat if someone had tried to tell him the body he had wasn’t in her late forties or early fifties.
Brett had resisted the urge to hand the man a hat to eat, since they had proof of the victim’s identity, and she had been half the assumed age when she’d died. That in itself was weird enough to put this case firmly in the supernatural category. Adding in the victim had given off no indication of having been a magik or possessed magik in any way, fooling everyone involved in the investigation, only upped the probability that the killer they were searching for wasn’t human.
While the aged-up issue was certainly big, the fact no one, Brett included, had caught the scent of magik on a woman known for being someone who practiced the craft was bigger.
For whatever reason, the witch didn’t trip any of the normal sensors all of the investigators had. Hell, even the witches he employed at the department hadn’t sensed magik on the woman. It was as if every bit of her magik had been drained out of her along with her life-force.
That shouldn’t have been possible.
When a practicing witch passed, they left residual magik and energy behind. Other supernaturals could pick up on it. All of it would have made sense had she not been an active witch, but she was one. Well known in the community, actually. And she’d come from a pretty prominent and powerful family of witches.
So while they did have a name to go with one of the thirteen victims, they didn’t have any more answers and were no closer to solving the case than they had been six months prior.
The case had been monopolizing Brett’s time. Between hunting for whoever was responsible for the murders, keeping an elaborate cover-up going for the sake of those outside of Grimm Cove, and handling his duties to the pack, he’d barely had a chance to stop and breathe, let alone do anything else. And he’d certainly not had time to check in on Poppy.
Today was the first day off he’d taken in nearly eight months. Jeffrey had threatened to shoot him with a tranquilizer gun and tie him to a chair if he didn’t take some much-needed time to himself.
Brett had caved and decided to work on a set of bedroom furniture he was making for his niece. After all, he wasn’t just her uncle; he was also her godfather, and he took that job seriously. Since her father wasn’t in the picture, Brett tried to be as supportive as he could and fill a father-figure role in her life. She was set to start college in the fall and he wanted to have the furniture set done in time to surprise her. It would allow her to have her bed bunked high with a full desk and sitting area below.
He’d assumed the day would be low-key.
Never did he think in a million years that he’d hear tires squealing out front and come out to find the one woman he didn’t think he’d ever see again—Poppy.
And never did he think she’d be moving to Grimm Cove full time. Not only that, but she’d divorced the douchebag.
Honestly, there was a whole lot he’d never considered a possibility, but all of which had happened.
Unable to stop himself, he jumped up in the air while shouting loudly, “Yes!”
It looked a lot like a touchdown reaction.
His neighbor, Mr. Shieber, who was ninety if he was a day and who hadn’t been thrilled when Brett had bought the home after Mrs. Belliveau’s passing, was peeking out his front window. Mr. Shieber shook his head and yanked his curtains closed.
Brett simply laughed.
He was in too good of a mood to care what others thought.
Poppy-seed was back in his life, and he intended to make the most of it. Unlike the last time. If her tree-hugging friend was to be believed, he and Poppy could and would make things work out between them.
They’d get their moment together—the life they’d been denied.
He thought more about what the blonde woman had hinted at. She’d referred to the twins as his stepchildren. He was totally and completely fine with that scenario. Truth be told, he already thought of them in a similar way. Not that he’d tell Poppy—at least not yet.
He wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be to hearing that he’d kept tabs on her and was having her children guarded.
He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Besides, he’d have an even bigger bomb to drop on her than that. Telling her he wasn’t human.
Hopefully, she’d listen to him with the same open-mindedness she’d had when she was younger. If she freaked out, screamed, and ran, he wasn’t sure how he’d handle the rejection. She was his mate. If she didn’t want him—he couldn’t even think on it all.
Doing so would set off his beast, and it was already confused enough after having Poppy close.
Never did he think his day off would include his mate.
But he was damn happy it did.
Now he needed to share the good news.
He ran for the front door and sprinted through the house to the back workshop where he’d left his cell phone. He got to it and noticed he’d missed three calls while out front. All of which were from the medical examiner’s office.
He had a text from them as well.
He checked it and sighed. They’d caught another break on two other victims and were able to identify them as well. Like the woman with the implants, these victims had been far younger than the autopsy resul
ts concluded when they’d passed, and just like the other woman, they too had been known practicing witches.
Brett texted back a thank you and asked to be kept apprised if anything else came up. He then put a call in to one of his detectives who was working the case.
“Chief?” asked Stratton Bright. “I take it you heard about the other two victims.”
“I did. Any idea where they’re from?” Brett asked.
“Looks like one is from out in California and another is from Arizona,” said Stratton.
“How in the hell did they end up here?” asked Brett.
“No idea. That’s a long way for a killer to drive to do a body dump,” added Stratton.
Brett thought about it a moment. “Makes me think they weren’t dead the entire way. I think they were killed here, or damn close to here.”
“Same. I’m going to reach out to the authorities from where they went missing. I’ll let you know what I turn up,” said Stratton.
“Sounds good.”
Stratton was quiet a moment. “I know your gut is gonna tell you to come running in here to help work these new leads. But, Chief, mine is telling me you’re where you’re supposed to be right now.”
Brett snorted. “For once, I’m going to agree with your sixth sense. Call me if anything comes up or changes.”
“Will do.”
Brett hung up and dialed Jeffrey right away.
He answered on the second ring.
“Tell me there are no more bodies,” said Jeffrey. “I’m just getting back from fishing and really do not want to deal with that right now.”
“No bodies,” said Brett. He then launched into everything that he’d just found out about the other victims.
“So we have a witch killer on our hands,” said Jeffrey.
“It would seem so, but I don’t want to narrow our investigation fully just yet. Could turn out the other victims aren’t witches.”
“Yes. I guess. But none of us sensed magik on any of them and now it turns out that three of them were big-time witches and half the age we thought they were. That’s hinky, and I know you well enough to know you’re already suspecting the killer is witch specific.”
He was right. “I can’t put my finger on it. How do three powerful witches end up dead, showing all the signs of being twice their age, and with zero tells of magik on them?”
“Think they were into some kind of magik that might make them appear young? Maybe they were all lying about their ages and in death, we get the truth,” added Jeffrey.
That was an explanation.
Brett scratched his stubble-covered jawline. “Or the killing process aged them and did something to the magik they once had.”
A line of expletives fell free from Jeffrey. “This is bad. Really bad. Here I was thinking it was going to be a nice day off from drama. I even had a good haul on my fishing outing this morning. There goes my hopes on having a good day.”
Brett wanted to agree but something amazing had happened to him today—the woman he loved had returned to Grimm Cove. “She’s here.”
“Who is here?” asked Jeffrey.
“Poppy.”
Silence greeted him.
“Did you hear me? Poppy Proctor. Is. Here. In Grimm Cove,” said Brett, punctuating each word, feeling like a kid at Christmas.
Still, there was no response from his best friend. The guy who knew all his deep, dark secrets. The one who knew how long he’d been in love with Poppy and what she meant to him.
“Why the hell aren’t you saying anything?” demanded Brett.
“I’m busy putting my fishing gear away in a hurry so I can get to you to keep you from killing her husband,” said Jeffrey. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kasper. I know you want her for yourself but it’s not okay to eat humans, no matter how big of a douchebag you swear the man is. Don’t do anything until I get there. Then we can go somewhere else. Maybe up to my cabin. It’s stocked with beer. Sound good?”
He sighed. “Jeffrey, stop. I’m not going to eat her ex-husband.”
“Ex?” asked Jeffrey. “Like, not her husband now?”
“Right,” said Brett, smiling wide, nodding his head.
“Did you claim her yet?” asked Jeffrey, sounding as excited as Brett felt.
Brett snorted. “No! She just ran into the tree out front and—”
“Is she hurt?” asked Jeffrey, sounding worried.
“No. She’s fine,” added Brett. “On an interesting side note, Gilbert is evidently shit-faced again and running through town in shifted form. He’s the reason she ran off the road. I’m torn between hunting him down to kick his ass because she could have been hurt and thanking the man for the fact she ended up banked in my yard.”
“We really need to do something about Gilbert,” said Jeffrey. “He’s out of control since he stumbled on that one body months ago. It really messed with him. Deer-shifters are just not cut out for gore.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Back to Poppy. Are you going to claim her tonight? Tell me you are,” said Jeffrey.
“Come on, man. She only just rolled into town. I barely got a chance to tell her what an asshole I was and how I didn’t mean anything in that letter before she was trying to rush off.”
Jeffrey sighed long and loud. “Can’t really blame her. You did drop her like a hot potato.”
“Your support is overwhelming,” groaned Brett.
“You want support, get a jockstrap. I’m here for life’s ugly truths,” replied Jeffrey with a snort. “You’re not going to waste another twenty years, are you? You do plan to tell Poppy that you’re her mate, right?”
Brett scratched the back of his neck, his stomach tightening as he thought about how she might respond to the news. “Uh, yes. I’m going to tell her. I should probably explain what a mate is, and then what I am. Think she’ll stick around long enough to hear the part about me being able to turn into a wolf or will she run the minute she hears we were literally created for each other?”
“Hmm, depends on the delivery,” said Jeffrey. “I find you lack tact so you might want to hire that out.”
“When you’re done insulting me, get your ass over here. Poppy needs help moving in. She has very attractive friends with her. Phone Travis on your way,” said Brett. “You have thirty minutes to get to my place. Then I’m heading over myself, and we both know I’m going to stick my foot in my mouth with her, and then you’re going to have to spend another twenty years hearing me complain about it.”
“Christ, when you put it that way…” Jeffrey laughed loudly. “I’m coming!”
Eight
Poppy
I continued to give Dana the stink eye as I searched under yet another pot for the key on the front porch of my grandparents’ home. There seemed to be a lot more pots than there used to be, and there had been plenty to start with.
We used to keep everything from herbs to annual flowers out there, making the home feel light and airy. Not oppressive as it currently felt.
I’m not sure what I’d been expecting when I pulled up in front of the old Victorian home, but it certainly wasn’t this. The house was once a vibrant yellow with golden undertones. The main part of the trim had been a deep hunter green and the accents above each window had been a deep burnt umber. Now it looked as if it had sat in the middle of a dust storm for the past twenty years, its paint faded and worn in numerous places.
None of the windows in the front looked cracked or broken, but they were nearly opaque with dirt and grime. I had vivid memories of my grandfather using old newspapers and vinegar to clean the windows on the home at least once a summer. He’d pull out his extension ladder and make a day of it, seeming to enjoy the task.
I had a hunch it was because Grandma would treat him to lemon pie when he was done. While I found lemon pie to be disgusting, he had loved it and would have done just about anything for some.
He’d have been heartsick seeing the state of his home.
W
hile my mind understood the fact the home hadn’t been occupied in twenty years, seeing the reality of it before me was eye-opening. I’m not sure how the town of Grimm Cove hadn’t sent me any letters demanding I tend to it all.
I hadn’t realized the home needed this much work and couldn’t imagine why Maria hadn’t mentioned as much on the phone to me the various times we’d spoken over the past couple of years.
A number of the spindles of the front porch railing were broken or missing. One of the steps looked questionable, and I had to wonder about the integrity of the entire porch. Since Dana and I were both on it, moving around in hopes of finding the missing key, the integrity of the wood beneath our feet was a very real concern.
For as worn as the porch looked, someone had taken the time to water the flowers and plants in the pots, tending to them regularly. It was odd, to say the least.
I lifted another pot and paused a moment as I uncovered a strange triangle symbol carved into the floorboard. There was another marking through the triangle.
While I liked to think I was fairly well versed in various symbols because of my grandmother and her hobbies, which included alchemy, this one was new to me.
The sight of it made my skin crawl.
Who would carve something like that on a porch at all, let alone under a flowerpot?
“Any luck?” asked Dana, drawing my attention back to her.
We’d been searching for the key for nearly twenty minutes and I had yet to speak to her. I was still miffed over her behavior in front of Brett.
I didn’t respond verbally. Instead, I just narrowed my gaze on her.
Snorting, Dana turned over another pot. “Stop with your evil glares and grunts. You can be mad all you want at me for inviting your high school sweetheart, also known as your soul mate, over to help with unloading your truck and those moving pods that are in the driveway. He’s hot, single, willing to lift heavy things, clearly still into you, and very willing to go break Thomas’s kneecaps. Sounds like a winner to me. At our age, it’s hard to find a man who checks half those boxes, let alone all of them. Of course, could mean he’s got some major quirks.”
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