Miranda's Rights (Paranormal Detective Series Book 2)

by Lily Luchesi

  It was adjacent to the cellar, where they kept their wine and preserves, locked and painted very intricately with symbols Angelica didn’t recognize. As she studied the walls, her mother secured the werewolf to something that looked like a discarded, high-backed wooden chair that had some type of topless helmet with probes attached, and restraints at the wrists and ankles.

  “Mother, what is this? Why does Father have an armory hidden upstairs?” Angelica asked, wondering what other secrets her family was hiding. “Why do we need a…I don’t even know what to call this? Torture chamber”

  “Mon cher, your father once helped protect London from evil paranormal creatures. He knows almost everything there is to know about all species, and he keeps this room for emergencies, like this one. The same with the armory. It is to protect us both,” Veronica explained. “You know not all creatures are kind, be they humans, vampires or anything else.”

  Moments later, they heard Vincent’s voice, and another man’s, as they descended the stairs. Vincent entered the room, followed by a man who was impossibly tall and handsome.

  He wore a long black coat and a hat over thick dark hair, and his cheekbones could cut someone. While she was sure that many a female would enjoy his company for an evening, Angelica didn’t like the look of him whatsoever.

  “You are lucky you found me alone, Cross,” the man said in an American accent. “After you defected, we never expected to have contact with you again.”

  “You know why I left, Leander,” Vincent snapped, his blue eyes bright in the torchlight. “And if you only came to belittle me, you can go.”

  “Don’t be brash, Cross,” Leander said.

  His eyes fell on Veronica, whom he seemed to recognize. Angelica could see her mother’s sour expression and knew that her feelings about the man mirrored her own. And then he saw Angelica.

  “And who is she?”

  “She,” Angelica began, offended, “is his daughter, Angelica. Who are you?”

  The man looked ashen, as if he were going to faint at any time. “You never told me you sired a child with her,” he said, his deep voice trembling.

  “I did not know I needed to keep you updated on my family tree,” Vincent said. “Now, can you help us or not?”

  Leander approached the were, giving Angelica a wide berth. “This shifter is possessed by a demon,” he said simply, as if it were an everyday occurrence in both his and the Cross family’s lives.

  “What can you do for him?” Angelica asked.

  “I suppose I can exorcise him. Your…father was quite insistent that you would not want him killed outright. Of course, when he said ‘she,’ I assumed he meant his wife, not a daughter I never knew existed. I must warn you, child, if I do not kill him now, you will see a sight you’ll wish to forget,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Angelica asked.

  “When a demon exits a body, it leaves behind a mental carnage that no institution has ever experienced. It would be a mercy killing if I executed him now,” Leander explained.

  “You will not kill him!” Angelica ordered, making a very amused smirk appear on plump, cherry red lips.

  Apparently, he was a man unused to being ordered about and found it cute that she thought she could give him orders. “As you wish, dhampir,” he insulted.

  He pulled a small book from his inside pocket and began reciting a Latin exorcism. The demon possessing Quentin roared, hissed, and screamed. Its face contorted into an expression of pure malice. It bit through part of Quentin’s tongue in its struggle, and his bottom lip, spewing blood down his chin and neck. His nails scratched at the arms of the chair, breaking off and dripping blood down the wood.

  Angelica had never witnessed something so evil, so vicious. It was only through sheer willpower that she managed not to shriek like a child having a nightmare.

  The demon finally was forced out of Quentin’s body, leaving in a black wisp through his nose and mouth. Sludge was left behind like demonic residue. Quentin’s body slumped in the chair, spent.

  Angelica went to approach the chair and untie her poor, victimized friend when large hands grabbed her shoulders to hold her back.

  “If you untie him, dhampir, you will unleash a mad werewolf on your family. You, first, shall surely die at his hand, and your family shall follow. Is that what you want?” Leander said.

  Angelica wrenched herself from his grasp and said, “If you ever lay a hand on me again, you will leave here with two less limbs than you entered with, mortal.”

  Leander took a sheathed sword and poked Quentin in order to wake him. When he did, Angelica realized why the rude human had insisted on just killing him.

  Like a bulldog ravaged with rabies, his eyes were wild, bloodshot, and unblinking. His hands continued to claw at the chair, and he roared so loud, Angelica was sure the two humans would lose their hearing.

  “You!” he snarled, rocking so viciously the chair was shaking, even though it was nailed down. He was looking right at Angelica. “You selfish, conceited bitch! I gave you my heart, and you threw it back in my face! I’ll return the favor by making you watch as I eat your father’s heart.”

  He kept up a slew of insults and threats, most of which were so vulgar, even the men appeared disgusted with him. They were things that no one with any sense or any heart would ever dare to repeat. Vincent looked at the shocked expression on his wife’s face, and the hurt one on his daughter’s, and asked Leander why he hadn’t ended the miserable thing’s life yet.

  Leander calmly held out a hand, silently asking for Vincent’s gun. He handed it over to his old friend without a qualm. Despite their obvious differences, it seemed to Angelica that he trusted him.

  Leander stepped up to Angelica and held the gun out.

  “Why me?” she asked, trying to drown out the roars and flying blood-spittle mixture coming from Quentin’s mouth.

  “Because you started this, little girl. You must finish it,” he said. “It will give you closure.”

  She sighed, and looked at the device in her hand. She had never used a gun before but knew how they worked. She also knew that a single silver bullet to the heart would kill a werewolf. While she regretted having to end him, Leander was right. This was a mercy killing. It would set Quentin free.

  She held the gun before her and said, “I am so sorry, my friend.” Not even flinching, she aimed at his heart and pulled the trigger, killing him instantly.

  His eyes widened, but did not even have time to register pain before the metal tore into his muscle, ending his life.

  “I hope you understand now, Miss Cross, why I suggested murder first. It was to spare us all from what just happened.” Leander gave her a last look before he held his hand out to Vincent.

  Vincent took it and said, “Thank you for coming.”

  “Don’t contact me again,” Leander responded before he stalked out, his coat trailing behind him like a cape.

  Surprisingly, Angelica followed him, but it was not to thank him. “Leander, wait,” she called, realizing that she did not know his surname.

  He turned, arching one thick brow at her. “What?” he asked rudely.

  “Mother said Father used to protect London from evil paranormal creatures. And I assume that you do, too,” she said.

  Looking bored, Leander said, “Get to the point, Cross.”

  “I want to help.”

  The grim face burst into laughter. “You want to be a hunter? You’re part vampire, in case you’ve forgotten!”

  “You and Father saved a lot of people tonight. I want to be able to do that as well. I want to keep humans safe from those of us who…aren’t as law abiding as Mother and I. Can you help me?”

  He gave her the little book he had used during the exorcism and said, “Here are some basics on hunting various creatures. Use this well, and do not make me regret helping your family. I hope our paths never cross again.”

  “Because you’d kill me, correct?” Angelica guessed.

 
“You’re as quick as your father,” he commented before exiting her life as quickly as he’d entered it.

  Chapter Ten

  “That was…a lot of information to process,” Danny said when Angelica’s tale was told.

  “Wait a minute…are you telling me your father was a hunter?” Miranda asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

  Angelica shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose. You see, it wasn’t proper back then to ask a lot of questions of your elders. It was disrespectful. So I gleaned what information I could and that didn’t amount to much. I guess that’s where I got my drive to protect humanity from.”

  “And this Leander guy? You never saw him again?” Danny wondered.

  She shook her head. “That day…there was so much for me to process. I have never done an exorcism since. I’m too afraid of what I might unleash. To know that it was partially my fault that Quentin had been possessed…it was too much for me. When word got out to the werewolf community, the rift between the species widened. It hurt, knowing that I could have caused an interspecies war, and in truth, we only narrowly escaped it happening.

  “I was depressed for a very long time after that, blaming myself. Then I started actively searching out creatures that broke the law and executing them. Father would join me sometimes. We kept it a secret from Mother, who would’ve had a heart attack if she’d known what we were doing,” she explained.

  “And he never told you about his past?” Danny asked.

  She shook her head. “He had closed that chapter of his life long before, but he helped me when I asked him to. Ironically, he is the real reason I was able to start the PID, by helping me learn the ropes. I bet he never thought that I would wind up hunting him one day.”

  Danny gave her shoulder a light squeeze and said, “I am sorry you had to see all of that.”

  “And I am sorry you ever had to be dragged into this,” she said, standing up and walking out of the room, leaving Danny and Miranda alone. She needed a moment to collect herself. She might not have loved Quentin, but he had been her friend, and she was not heartless. She hated remembering her first murder. She hated how easily killing was for her, especially her first kill, someone she knew. That was why she was hesitant to be fully turned, would she become as evil as her father had?

  The question haunted her daily, and remembering her first kill brought that worry back to her. Because, after Fiona was dealt with, that would be her biggest issue. To turn or not to turn? She had to admit to herself that she had nothing left in the human world anymore. Losing sunlight and food was a small price to pay to be stronger and faster—a better hunter. If she wound up becoming like her father had after he was turned, it would be counterproductive towards everything she had worked for all her life. She did not want to be a murderer, but wasn’t she one already?

  The only true upside was that she’d stopped caring so much about someone who obviously had no interest in her anymore.

  ****

  Danny and Miranda sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, processing everything they had heard and what Danny had seen, thanks to those damned powers of his.

  “Was it hard for you? Seeing it all firsthand?” Miranda asked.

  He nodded. “It was intense. It was brutal and pitiful. If I had a choice, I would give up these powers forever. Angelica says they’re a blessing, but I say they’re a curse. You can’t possibly know what it’s like to have these visions. To be there, in the thick of it, watching it as it happens, knowing every evil thing said and thought. It’s like living a nightmare. Only one of my visions has ever been good.”

  Miranda went and stood behind her former fiancé, placing her cold hands on his shoulders and giving him a light squeeze. “If I could take your pain away, I would.”

  “If you could, I’d pay you all the money Dad left me,” he replied.

  Miranda was silent, contemplating. “I could do it, you know.”

  “Do what?” he asked, turning around in the chair to face her.

  “Make the powers go away. Make you not feel any of these pesky fears.” Her voice was nonchalant, but her eyes were sharp.

  He could see that this had been a planned confrontation somehow, and he was wary. For wanting to be a lawyer, she could never hold her cards very close to her chest. That was why he’d never taught her to play poker.

  “How?” He was a former cop. He could get anyone to admit anything and he planned to make Miranda spill her guts. He knew it would be easy. She had that smug look on her face he remembered from their dating years. That look meant she was ready to brag.

  Her cool fingers traced along his throat, leaving behind an uncomfortable sensation.

  “Let me turn you. You’ll lose your powers and fears, and then we could be together…forever. Just you and me, like it was always meant to be.”

  Danny started to feel sick. “How long have you had that suggestion up your sleeve?” he wondered, trying to keep his voice level.

  “Since day one. Daniel, my first thought when I found out what I am was to go to you and turn you. She,” he cocked her head in the direction Angelica had gone, “convinced me that I shouldn’t. Now, she has no say in it anymore. Come, love, and let me free you.”

  Her plea sounded genuine, but her eyes said another thing. They said that they didn’t want to save him, but to Claim him. To own him. The books he’d read explained about the Claiming ritual of vampires, how they were permanently connected to their chosen mate. If she turned him, if she became his Sire, he would be bound to her for eternity. Even if he left her, their souls would always have a connection. She could always find him and know what he was feeling at any given moment.

  “Miranda, listen to me,” he began, “I do not want to be a vampire. I would never want to be a vampire. And if you love me as much as you claim to, you’ll never bring this up with me again.”

  “Why not? It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” she said, putting a flirtatious tone in her voice. “The sex is incredible.”

  Danny stood up from his seat, angry and truly understanding why Miranda was really upsetting him so much with her suggestions. “Miranda, you have been dead to me for over twenty years. If what I felt for you was real love, it has eluded me in that time. I am willing to be your friend, your colleague, anything. But I’ll never be your lover or mate or whatever it is you vampires have. I don’t love you. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, but even if turning me would end all of my problems, I would never consent to let you do it.”

  “You don’t love me?” Miranda spat. “I waited all these years to come back to you, and now you claim to have fallen out of love with me?”

  “The time you waited and the time I waited is different. Angelica told me time is more fluid for you. Twenty years for me is like two months for you. You felt it to be a shorter time than I did. And, if I am being completely honest with you, knowing what I do now, I don’t think what we ever had was true love.” Danny looked her in the eyes as he spoke, hoping she would understand. She had never been the most reasonable person.

  “How could you say that?” she asked, her voice shaking. “What we had was beautiful and special.”

  He shook his head. “Neither of us are the same people now that we were then. Miranda, you have to accept that it is over and has been for a long time. I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  He held her hand in his, and she just stared at their linked fingers, visibly trying to fight back angry tears. She whipped her hand from his and crossed her arms in a psychological defensive position. “I’m not going to pretend that that didn’t hurt,” she said quietly.

  “I know. No one is asking you to,” he replied. “Just know that, even if I did love you still, I would never want to be turned. I don’t ever want to become a vampire.” He held a hand out again. “Friends?”

  Miranda studied him for a moment, trying to reign in her anger. He knew she was humiliated, broken-hearted and had just lost a chance at the man she once loved—a c
hance she’d been waiting decades for.

  She pasted on a smile, shook his hand and said, “Friends.”

  She left then, but he knew that her emotions were churning like a tornado.

  ****

  Angelica was exiting the ladies’ room when she saw Miranda, cursing under her breath and eyes filling with bloody tears as she stalked away. She knew better than to stop an angry vamp to ask what was wrong, so she shrugged her shoulders and decided to get the information from Danny later.

  As she walked through the halls in the opposite direction of Miranda, Frederic approached her. “Miss Cross, our witches detected a big flare of dark magic.”

  “Where? Could they get at least an approximate location?” Angelica asked, relieved and a little frightened that they could possibly catch Fiona before her next strike against them. Her adrenaline began to pump and then die away.

  He shook his head. “No. It died down as fast as it flared up. They think the witch is working on something quite large and wanted me to warn you.”

  “We need to go search for her while the trail is fresh,” Angelica said, but the older man grabbed her arm.

  “You might be the true boss, but I am your superior on paper. I am ordering you not to go out and not to let Danny out, either. Not even to go home. We don’t know what she’s planning, and I don’t think you should go running into danger unprotected and unprepared,” he said.

  She laughed. “Oh, Freddy, how I love it when you get all bossy! You know, I remember when you were eighteen, and I rescued you from a lion shifter that wanted to feed at the Lincoln Park Zoo. How far you’ve come.” She squeezed his arm, noticing how thin he had become. It was definitely high time for him to retire and get some real rest. “I promise I’ll listen to you. You can go home. I can handle things here.”

  They said their goodnights, and Angelica text Miranda, letting her know about the overnight lockdown, not that she needed to be a part of it. Fiona wasn’t after her. She then went to find Danny, who was just leaving her office.