Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  He runs his hand over my head and down the length of my hair. “Who?”

  “My moth—no,” I say, shaking my head. “A woman. A customer. My customer. She was here last night.” I push away to pace. “Blonde hair, pretty, life of the party.”

  “I remember her. I’m sorry, love. What happened? How did she die?”

  A knock sounds at the door, tentative and quiet. “Ms. Hawk?”

  I blow out a breath and look from the door to Keller. “She fucking overdosed on Pixie Dust,” I grit out between clenched teeth.

  The knock turns into more of a pound. “You’re needed downstairs,” says whoever is on the other side of the door, his voice growing stronger.

  Keller picks up a book from the corner of my desk and hurls it against the wall. More pounding on the door follows. “It feckin’ kills me that I can’t go down there with you,” Keller says, his voice low and icy.

  His frustration washes over me and my shoulders slump with the weight of it all. “It can’t be helped.” I move to open the door. I turn back to Keller with one hand firmly on the knob. “There is something you can do right now.”

  “What is it?”

  “Call Hector.” I nod my head toward the phone on the desk. “His number is on speed dial. Tell him I asked you to call. See what he’s found out. Tell him we’re running out of time. Tell him—”

  Keller shushes my rambling with a kiss. “I’ve got it. Go talk to the cops.” He moves to stand in the shadows of the corner, completely out of sight.

  I open the door and offer a weak smile. I walk out before the fresh-faced officer can come in. “Sorry, officer. I just needed a minute.” What I need is to line the pixies up in front of a firing squad. “It’s not everyday someone dies in your place of business, you know?”

  He removes his hat and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “I understand, ma’am. I’m gonna need you to come downstairs.”

  By the time we make our way back to the bathroom, the forensics team has arrived and Bruce has ordered that we shut down. The band is no longer playing, and all my customers have been told they can’t leave until they’ve been questioned. I can’t believe this. I close my eyes and send a message to Keller: Please tell Sage they’ve shut us down.

  I leave the body to the professionals and walk into the main room. Bruce pulls a pen and a small notepad out of his pocket and moves toward me. The whole scene is reminiscent of one of those old school cop shows, and here I am, the star witness. Except I’m not.

  “Any idea what happened here?” he asks, all business-like.

  No doubt Sage would be in the office within the next two minutes if she could teleport during the day like her brother. If the cops tell me she needs to be here, I’ll have to lie and say she’s out of town or something. Now I know what the shifter must have felt like when I was interrogating him. Being on this side of things sucks the big one. People should remember that before they decide to die inside my bar.

  I grab a chair and collapse into it, all the air escaping from my lungs like a deflating balloon. “She was dancing when I got here. She was here last night, too. She appeared drunk and I told the waitress to cut her off. Then she went to the bathroom and this is how I found her. I tried CPR.” End of story. Done.

  Bruce cringes a bit. “We saw that.”

  “Sorry. I got a little aggressive.”

  “Understandable, considering.” He lowers himself into the chair across from me and pushes his notebook to the side. I don’t know him well, but I’ve always considered Bruce to be friendly, on the up-and-up. Maybe this is just the method he uses to question people, but when I look at him, I see nothing but kindness.

  I lean forward and look him square in the eye. “People don’t die in my bar, Bruce.”

  He pats my hand. “People die everywhere.”

  “You’re wrong.” I shove out of the seat. The wooden legs scrape against the floor before the chair topples over and bounces off the ground. I bend down and pick it up, sliding it back under the table. “They don’t die inside Wolfie’s.”

  “That’s changed now.” He sighs. “I need to ask you some questions.”

  “I know.” I pull the chair back out and sit again. The seat hasn’t even had time to grow cold. Unlike the dead body in the bathroom. “Go ahead.”

  “Is Sage here?”

  Of course. Can I predict shit or what? “No. She’s out of town. She’s going to be devastated when she hears about this.” No doubt she’s bending Keller’s ear this very moment.

  “All right. Let me know when she gets back and I’ll stop by to talk to her.” He waves his hand in the air to let me know he’s moving on. “Last night I asked you if you’d seen anything suspicious going on.”

  “I hadn’t. Now all that’s changed. You don’t get more suspicious than a corpse. Do you know how she died?” Might as well turn this interrogation around.

  Bruce taps his pen against his lips. “I’m not at liberty to say, Josie. Did you see her talking to anyone specifically?”

  “A lot of people, actually. She liked to dance. Cowboys enjoy pretty women. That’s a recipe for a good time all around.” I pick a napkin up off the table and shred the corner. “Can you at least tell me her name?”

  “I guess there’s no harm in that.” He glances at his notebook. “Katie Danielson. She’s from Iowa, according to her license.”

  Katie. I couldn’t save her, but at least now I can say a prayer that her soul will move on to a better place, wherever that may be. “A tourist.”

  “Apparently. Look, I’ll make this as quick as I can, get your customers out the door so they can go on with their day. You’ll be shut down for at least tonight. Maybe tomorrow too. It can’t be helped. There’s a protocol here.”

  “I know. I can’t afford to be down tomorrow, too, Bruce, so anything you can do would be greatly appreciated.” I look up and see several news stations standing outside, cameras rolling. “Fantastic.”

  Bruce follows my gaze. “Nothing I can do about that.”

  “I know.” I shrug. “All publicity is good publicity, right?”

  “So they say.”

  I feel like an ass for even saying it. Even though I didn’t know her, I do know that Katie deserves better than my flip comments. I have every intention of making sure her killer and everyone involved pays for her death. I excuse myself and head toward my staff. They’re huddled behind the bar like gossiping teenagers. Cassy, who is standing at the edge of the mob, is the first to spot me. She rushes toward me.

  “What can I do to help?”

  I squeeze her arm as I walk by. “Offer our guests water, juice, and soda. On the house, of course.” I do need to talk to Cassy, but now isn’t the time. To the rest I say, “The police are going to question all of you.”

  Speaking of…Baldy Shwartzmongerfitz, or whatever the hell his name is, is standing at the end of the bar watching me—leering, actually. I show him my back and mentally flip him the bird. “Be honest and tell them everything you can remember,” I continue. “Even the smallest detail is important.” I plan to question them as well. Surely someone saw something.

  “Once they’ve dismissed you, feel free to go home. I’ll pay you all for a full shift, including tips, and I’ll let you know about tomorrow. Plan to be here. If that changes, I’ll call you.” I scan the room. Did one of these people sell her the Pixie Dust?

  I jerk and spin on my heel. I swear someone just pinched my neck, but the only people behind me are the bartenders and waitresses and they’re all staring straight ahead. The stress must be getting to me. I rub the tension from my muscles.

  The room grows as silent as a condemned library. The paramedics wheel out a gurney, covered with a white sheet. Red splotches smudge the sheet in two places. I bow my head as Katie passes by, all the while scanning every face in the crowd. Several people lower their gaze to the floor, while others look like their necks are made of rubber. I catalogue their reactions for future reference. I
know they’ve opened the front door when I hear the click click click of cameras and the roaring buzz of reporters asking the coroner questions. I shake my head and wonder when the sun set. I hadn’t even noticed. There’s nothing more I can do down here, so I turn and head back upstairs.

  A hand on my arm stops me. “Ms. Hawk, I have some questions for you.”

  I don’t even need to look to know Baldy is behind me. “Talk to Bruce,” I say without sparing him a glance. I don’t like this man. Not one bit. “I told him everything I know.” Feeling the beginnings of a headache, I leave.

  I climb to the second floor slowly. My legs feel as though I have concrete bricks strapped to my boots. Upstairs, I let out a long breath and reach for the doorknob, only to stop before I turn it. Going in unannounced could be deadly. It’s me, Keller.

  I know. Come on in.

  I hold back a maniacal bubble of laughter before it escapes. My heart tightens like someone is squeezing it with two hands. I was right about Sage. I knew she’d come as soon as she could. She’s not only here, but she’s chewing her fingernails to nubs. What I hadn’t expected was to see the others.

  Keller, Lucian, Alex, Grant, and Matthew all stand as I enter the room. The small office can barely contain all the testosterone, let alone their sheer size. “What are you all doing here?” They must have come the moment the moon passed the sun.

  “We’re a team,” Alex says.

  Sage dabs at her eyes and I’m close to having to do the same. Grant shifts closer to her, then as if catching himself, moves back.

  Several mumbles of assent drift through the small group.

  “Thank you all for being here.” I know. Totally lame. Right now, it’s all I’ve got. My eyes lock with Keller’s. “Did you get a hold of Hector?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “We’ve definitely got a killer on our hands. At least six other humans have overdosed on it this week alone.”

  Sage gasps. A number of low growls follow.

  What? How had I not heard about this? I’m a huntress, for Christ’s sake. Six more? A vision of Katie, broken and dead on the tile floor, enters my mind. I pull the blade out of my waistband and flip it from one hand to the other, over and over again. I miss and the blade tumbles to the ground. I’m more shaken than I thought. I bend to retrieve it, and nearly bump into Keller as a wave of dizziness rocks through me. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, but the buzzing won’t stop. Locusts have decided to take up residence in my brain. Must be an adrenaline crash. “Tell me.”

  One by one, the vamps find a spot to sit. I remain standing, as does Keller after he stows my fallen blade back into its sheath on my hip. He relays Hector’s findings to me. I hear bits and pieces. Highly toxic and addictive. Induces horrific hallucinations. Opium. Angels’ Trumpet. Atropa Belladonna, a.k.a. Deadly Nightshade. It gets worse and worse with each fact. Apart, these ingredients are dangerous. Together they are a deadly combination, the likes of which I have never heard of. No one in their right minds would mix all these hallucinogens. I got off easy. I’m fortunate my nightmare only ended with a headache and raw feelings rather than me being carried off under a white sheet.

  “Are you all right?” Sage asks.

  I offer a smile, though I’m not sure I’m successful. “Fine.”

  Keller moves closer. “Hector wants you and I to meet him at his place tonight.”

  I nod my head.

  Keller stays quiet and I look up. “There’s more,” he says, his voice so quiet and lethal I wonder if he’s about to sprout horns and spew acid.

  More? Sure there is. Why wouldn’t there be? “What?”

  He doesn’t say anything. I look around the room. Everyone is staring at their toes, looking like a bunch of punks after their first arrest.

  “What?” I demand. My brain is knocking against my skull like a caged gorilla.

  “You’ve been summoned.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Teleporting sucks.

  Sucks worse than being on an out-of-control teacup ride at a supernatural carnival run by demons and their not-so-trustworthy, drooling, red-eyed hellhounds. Seriously, it’s that bad. As seemingly endless miles and oceans whip by, I tightly lace my clammy fingers through Keller’s strong hand and count the seconds off as a way to maintain a semblance of control. The only upside I can think of to this whole beam me up, Scotty routine is speed. After what can be no more than thirty torturous seconds, we come to an abrupt stop that has me rocking on my heels and fighting for balance. I swear it would have been easier to slam into a brick wall at sixty miles per hour.

  Icy sweat beads on my forehead and trickles into my eyes at a steady clip. This is the worst case of tele-sick I’ve ever had. Blinking, I lose the balance battle, drop to my knees, and pull in a ragged breath as my stomach attempts to keep down last night’s dinner of cheesy French fries and chicken wings. Frowning, I curse half of my lineage—the weaker human half. A shudder creeps through my body and I do my best to swallow the greasy combo back down. Like I said: Total suckage.

  Cracking my neck, I quickly push off the ground, shrug off Keller’s help, and take in my surroundings. Where the hell are we? We’ve landed in a hall with at least ten doors on either side. Each door could potentially represent a challenge. I reach down and slide my hand up my thigh and beneath my skirt until I feel the sheath holding one of my blades. My fingers linger there. I wait. I watch.

  “Easy, Josie. You won’t need that here.”

  “You sure about that?”

  The scent of old death taints the air, faint but unmistakable. Many have died here, but not for some time if I’m correct. That’s something, I guess.

  “You okay? You seem off.”

  Brows drawn close, I offer a sharp nod as his melodic Irish lilt washes over me, soothing, assuring. “I’m good.” Not really. I don’t feel like myself.

  I’m good—good, confused, and wondering if we’ve landed in the wrong place. Which means I should have strapped more weapons to my thighs. This isn’t what I’d imagined. Not that I had anything to go on other than my extremely vivid imagination, but still. I’d pictured gothic, yet posh surroundings. Maybe even a boardroom with a sleek table and buttery-soft leather chairs. Definitely not this.

  “How positive are you that you brought us to the right place?”

  Keller chuckles. “Doubting me?” he asks in a teasing tone. “This is where they said we should come. I’ll admit it’s a little different.”

  “Hmmm.” Can anyone say set up? The Assembly summons me and we end up here. Something other than the death stench lingering in the air doesn’t smell quite right.

  I’m about to play a game of eenie meenie minie moe when the double doors to our left creak open. Tension builds in my veins, but I cannot deny the invitation. To do so would be career suicide. I enter the room.

  And start laughing.

  “Josie?”

  I ignore Keller.

  Bones. Full skeletons. Partial carcasses. Twisted. Broken. Clean. As if they’d been picked at for days by scavengers, bitten and licked until not one bit of flesh remained. They’re everywhere. Taunting in the most silent and fragile of ways. My mind unwittingly sifts through all the gory stages of death. I know the details well. I swipe at my eyes to erase the visions. But those visions will never go away. They are as much a part of me as the blood flowing through my veins.

  Yet, still, I giggle. I’m a total flipping sicko.

  Candles in various sizes are scattered around the room, dripping white wax onto the neatly piled bones decorating the floor. The flames flicker in the stagnant air and cast shadows throughout the room. Heavy drapery panels the color of pitch hang from ceiling to floor, shutting out any light threatening to leak through. Clusters of shimmery blue fog are staggered every two feet or so. The mist wavers, thinning almost to the point that I can see through it, then just as quickly thickening, until even a superhero with x-ray vision would find the task of cutting th
rough impossible. With my weight on the balls of my feet, I turn a full circle. Heart stuttering, my gaze skims the floor. Ancient runes are etched into the smooth stone. The runes cast a faint glow that silently promises power to those who can decipher their meanings.

  I stop laughing.

  The power tugs at my mind, reeling me in. I know I can’t allow it to take hold, know it like I know who I am.

  “Something’s not right,” Keller says, close to my ear.

  You think? “I know.”

  Clenching my jaw, I imagine an anchor attached to my ankles and force myself to remain still. What the hell is going on? This place screams wrong when it is supposed to hold all that is right. I guess it could be perceived as welcoming, if you’re into that whole haunting and cryptic kind of vibe. I’m more of a flashing neon sign kind of decorator—something erratically sparking to life to light up the dark and dangerous world we all live in. Thankfully, the majority of the human population is blissfully ignorant to the beings that lurk in the shadows. I’ll take some credit for that.

  Two loud thwacks break the silence, commanding my full attention. The staccato sound echoes off the walls of the chamber. The bones rattle and shift positions. Let me tell you, none of this is what I expected when I tumbled out of bed this morning.

  The fog swirls around the room before disappearing through the ceiling above.

  “Let the ceremony begin.”

  Pretty sure my jaw just bounced off a rune. Ceremony? What ceremony?

  My gaze quickly lands on the source of the odd voice. My hands itch to block the jarring sound from my ears. I squeeze them into tight fists. I thought I was prepared, but those four words—not to mention the obscured being speaking them—has frigid claws gripping my spine so hard I fear I may split in two. I picture my torso falling forward until my head smacks the ground and bounces twice before settling, while the lower half of my body collapses into a useless heap. I mentally shrug. That is so me. Like a worm, I sometimes think my ass is my head and tend to talk before I think, which explains so much about my witty verbiage.