Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “Well, isn’t that convenient. So when did you figure out the book connection? Is the Council just letting him play pretend or you planning on showing that to Matthison?” I was trying to change the subject and not focus on the beautiful necro making moves on the guy I was sort of dating.

  “Show me what?” Matthison’s voice came from behind me.

  Damned carpeted floors. I almost laughed out loud at the irony of that thought. The sleazy ex-girlfriend necro was probably thought the same thing.

  After the argument we’d just had outside, I wouldn’t have expected to feel relieved to have Matthison here, but I was. I felt like there was someone who had my back if this bitch goaded me into hitting her. As if I needed much goading right about now.

  In an obvious attempt to clear the tension in the room Oberon started to fill Matthison in. “I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen the phrases carved into the victims’ stomachs before, so I started digging in Mahalia’s library. I’ve been neck deep in books this whole time.”

  That last bit seemed directed at me, but I wasn’t buying it. Not that he was researching all alone this whole time anyway.

  Matthison grabbed the book from Oberon and flipped to the first tabbed page. He quickly slammed the book shut.

  “How long have you known?” Matthison’s anger radiated off him in waves.

  I’d been on the receiving end of the look in his eyes more than once during my time with SPTF.

  “Not that long. A few hours, I guess. Why? What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Mahalia?” Matthison demanded.

  “Out back finishing the preparations for the recollection. Am I missing something here?”

  Matthison was already on his way to the backyard when I decided to follow him. That decision may have had something to do with the fact that I really didn’t want to be around Oberon and the crypt-keeper right now. I heard the screen door creak and picked up the pace with Oberon calling after me as I snatched a coat off the hook by the back door. That was the second time in one day I’d stormed off leaving a man calling my name. And the sun hadn’t even come up yet.

  Matthison was already tearing into Mahalia when I got outside. And she was giving it right back to him. “It is irrelevant at this point, Captain. You’re here now and have been given the information.”

  “How is it irrelevant? The girl hanging from the tree across the street wasn’t dead when you figured out the connection to the book, and it seems to me that all of the evidence is pointing to this Inquisitor organization. If you’d been a little more forthcoming, then we might have prevented that girl’s death!” There was no missing the anger in his voice.

  “Unfortunately, Captain, I think if you’re honest with yourself then you would admit that the poor young witch out there really was dead long before we made the connection. So drop the bravado and try to keep up. I know what I’m doing. You’ll have to trust me on that,” Mahalia calmly replied.

  “Until tonight, I actually thought that you were different. I thought that we were legitimately going to work together on this. But I can see now that you’re just like the rest of them.” Matthison gestured to the crowd in her yard. “You’re working angles, trying to figure out the best way to use my team and me. Well, let me clue you in. That magical manipulation you’ve got going on with Maurin isn’t going to work on me!”

  “Matthison!” I scolded.

  “If you want a ride home on something other than a broomstick, then I suggest you get your ass back to my car now.”

  Whoa. I’d never seen him so pissed off. He was looking for me to choose a side. I was either with him, or I was with them.

  Before I could answer, Mahalia kept right on pushing Matthison to his limit.

  “But Captain, I thought you wanted to be present for the recollection?” Mahalia taunted.

  “You’re doing it now? Outside?” I asked in disbelief.

  Damn! Even wearing the coat I’d pilfered, it was cold. I looked finally noticing everyone was bundled up for casting spells outside in the December dawn, except of course, for the wolves. They were always easy to spot because they were always dressed like it was twenty degrees warmer outside than it was. Roul sent over four of his best. I recognized a couple of them from my first Council meeting. I looked back over at Matthison, but he had become suddenly silent.

  Holy shit. The captain was a shade of red I have never seen before. I had no idea why Mahalia was antagonizing him, but Matthison’s head looked like it was about to explode. For a second, I thought Mahalia had cast a spell on him because he didn’t move, but then his hard eyes turned toward me. With one look, I knew I’d better plant my feet right next to him and not move an inch, or all of his pent-up anger would be unleashed. On me.

  He wasn’t my boss, and I wasn’t scared of him or losing a measly paycheck anymore. The dynamic of our relationship shifted once I changed, but I still respected him. I still considered him a friend too, despite our argument earlier. So, I stood beside him while Mahalia finished her preparations.

  It was only a few minutes before more coven members arrived outside. Amalie came bopping my way, but I shook my head discreetly to stop her approach. I was pretty sure that under normal circumstances Matthison would enjoy Amalie’s company. This was not what I would classify as normal circumstances, however. She took the hint and held up her hand with two fingers extended in the universal signal for ‘call me later’. She went to stand by the sisters, Juno and Phallon. I half expected some giant circle formation, but everyone seemed to be broken off in their usual little groups, chatting away, their warm breath making little clouds in the air.

  A hush fell over the crowd as Oberon and Graive made their way to Mahalia, stopping just outside her circle. I knew he was helping Graive with the spell, but did Oberon have to escort her everywhere while he was at it? I was pretty sure she could make it across the backyard by herself. I shoved my hands in my pockets as if I could shove my feelings down into them too.

  The old, wooden screen door slammed shut one last time as two men came out carrying a large linen-wrapped bundle. They were struggling with the awkward package. It was hard to tell at first, but as they kept walking I figured out exactly what was shrouded in all that linen. At some point they had removed the body from the tree across the street and prepared it for the casting. Matthison and I seemed to reach that conclusion at the same time. Mahalia had been goading him into a fight as a distraction, and Matthison was so pissed off already that it had worked. I hated being manipulated, and I knew that my former boss liked it even less.

  I started weaving my way over to Amalie, knowing she was my best shot at getting any information. Matthison gave up his statue impression and followed me. I knew he would. He wanted to know the reason for the big ruse as much as I did.

  “Don’t look at me, Maurin. I had nothing to do with it,” Amalie said, her hands raised in mock surrender.

  “That statement implies knowledge. I know you know what’s going on. Spill it.” I tried not to direct my anger at her.

  She hesitated, but only for a second; quickly coming to the decision that while Mahalia would explain this all away with eloquent and political perfection, there was no way in hell the two of us were going to wait that long to hear it.

  “They knew he’d be pissed off that they had to move the body and mess up the crime scene or evidence or whatever, so Mahalia kind of picked a fight with him to keep you both distracted while they prepared the body for the recollection.” Amalie’s explanation tumbled from her mouth in one breath.

  “So she thought that once she moved the body and started working her magic that I would just go along with destroying a crime scene and contaminating evidence? How the hell am I supposed to call this in now? This was not what we agreed on.” Matthison crossed and uncrossed his arms over his chest.

  I didn’t realize Mahalia had agreed to anything, but I wasn’t about to point that out now because Matthison’s angry whisper was a hell of a lot sca
rier than when he actually raised his voice. Mahalia could review the terms of their prior arrangement with him her damned self.

  “Oh come on, Captain, don’t be so indignant. Do you actually expect me to believe that Norms never contaminate a crime scene? You already have two bodies.” Amalie’s demeanor changed. Some of the innocence shifted away, revealing the smart and cunning witch underneath.

  “This isn’t any different from any other serial-killer case where you don’t have all the bodies. Charge and convict for two murders, when you know that they killed five. But let’s be honest, deep down you know this won’t end in a trial, and that’s conflicting with your belief system. That’s why you’re so angry.”

  The reality of what Amalie said seemed to hit home with Matthison. So did the fact that it was too late to do anything about it. Mahalia had, in fact, been honest when she told the Council he could be useful in keeping the media and the humans away. They had been focused on his team’s investigation, and not the coven’s comings and goings. I expected more anger from him, but instead he just looked defeated.

  Amalie sighed. “This is why I think that Mahalia should have explained it to you.”

  While we had been brought up to speed, the coven members closest to the circle had been busy finalizing everything for the casting. I turned my attention back to them just in time to see Graive slice Oberon’s palm, letting his blood drip down into the salt circle. He wasn’t officially mine. A few dates obviously didn’t cement anything, but still I didn’t want her touching him. I only got a step closer before Amalie grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

  Graive sliced her own palm, and then joined her hand with Oberon’s. They walked the perimeter of the circle like morbid dancers.

  I started to feel a little sick. It wasn’t the blood. I’ve seen, and unfortunately been covered in, a hell of a lot more than that. It had to be the magic building as they walked the circle one more time. My chest tightened as they started their third pass, making it hard to breathe. I leaned forward a little, bracing myself with my hands on my thighs and tried to catch my breath.

  “You okay?” Amalie asked, bending down to eye level with me.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I probably just need to eat or something,” I replied, somewhat unconvincingly. I felt something tearing inside, like a rope being sliced apart with a dull knife.

  “You sure?” Amalie asked, watching Graive and Oberon complete their final pass around the circle.

  I waved her off, forcing myself to stand up straight. I probably should have just kept my head down. Someone had pulled away part of the shroud that covered the dead girl’s face. Apart from my distaste for Graive, the ceremony wasn’t that unusual. That is, until the corpse sat up. It was right about then that I realized just how far from normal my life had veered off course. If I thought it was strange, Matthison must have been about to lose his mind.

  “Don’t worry; it’s not going to get all Night of the Living Dead. I mean she’s definitely got a healthy appetite for meat now that she’s a zombie…er ‘animated corpse’, but the shroud that they wrapped her in is heavily spelled and she’s contained within a circle. They’re usually strong when they’re first made, but everything should hold. It should be fine.” Amalie seemed relaxed, prattling on about the zombie as if we were discussing the last Bruins game.

  I glanced at Matthison, then back to Amalie. “Not really helping.”

  “Bet you thought you’d seen it all, huh Matthison?” Amalie quipped.

  “I’m starting to see why Agrona and Kedehern have a strict ‘no Necro’ policy,” he said, without even looking at her.

  So was I.

  Graive stood in front of the zombie she had just raised, careful not to cross the circle. I didn’t know much about Necros or zombies, but I did know the fresher the corpse was, the smarter the zombie was. If Graive was as good as they said she was, then this could all be over in a matter of hours. I could tolerate her for a few more hours if it meant catching the killers.

  She started asking simple questions like: ‘What’s your name?’, ‘Where did you live?’ et cetera. The zombie answered those with no problem, despite not having a tongue, which was an enigma that someone would have to explain to me later. The night had gone completely silent as we all stood watching Graive talk to the dead girl, waiting for the one little detail that would lead us to her killers. Graive started asking her about the last day of her life. “Where was she when they took her?” Graive inquired. “In the coffee shop,” the girl replied.

  But when Graive asked her to describe the place where she had actually died, everything went to hell. Apparently some zombies don’t really understand or remember that they’re dead and don’t appreciate being reminded of it at all. I should have known our zombie would react this way.

  The zombie started screaming that they had her, and wailing for someone to help her. We all crept forward. We were hoping the pleas for help would hold some clue. The zombie then started to struggle with its bindings. Her screaming became less coherent, quickly going from clear, concise yells for help to indecipherable shrieks of pain. Her eyelids flew open, and she searched the crowd with nothing but the empty sockets that once held her eyes.

  A feeling of blinding pain and blackness came over me. I had to fight to stay on my feet. It was the same as in the morgue, which didn’t make sense because I wasn’t even touching this girl. I looked around to see if anyone else was experiencing the same thing. It was hard to tell. The winces and grimaces could just be from the horror of listening to the girl’s suffering, and not from anyone else actually feeling it themselves, the way I was. Matthison looked at me. He could sense I was struggling. He had been with me at the morgue and looked pretty pissed I was going through that experience all over again. He started moving toward Graive, but I couldn’t go after him yet. I couldn’t call out to him either, not that he would have heard me over the zombie girl’s screaming. The pain hadn’t dropped me to my knees yet, but I didn’t have a handle on it either. If I moved now I would probably end up on the ground, no better off than the zombie. I felt as helpless as a Norm, and that really pissed me off for some reason.

  Matthison made it to Graive’s side and had his gun to her temple before anyone could do anything to stop him.

  “Shut it down, Graive,” he ordered.

  “That’s not your call, Captain.” She was eerily calm for someone who has a gun held up to her head. It probably wasn’t the first time.

  “Five solid minutes of her screaming hasn’t gotten us any closer to a location. Look around. Bringing you in was supposed to help the coven. They don’t look like they’ve been helped at all by you,” Matthison’s self control was slipping.

  “It’s a little early to tell.” Graive didn’t so much as blink.

  I couldn’t hear him click the safety off, but I knew exactly when he did so by the subtle twitch in Graive’s eye. The pain was suddenly gone, but it was replaced with an intense hunger. Graive was losing control of her zombie. Matthison was making it worse. He just didn’t know it yet.

  The zombie thrashed on the ground, struggling to free herself from both the wrappings and the circle that bound her. This might have been my first, and hopefully my last, zombie-raising, but I was pretty sure this wasn’t how it was normally done.

  Pushing back against the gnawing feeling of hunger, I discovered more strength within me than I would have expected. Matthison needed to back off. I wanted this over as much as he did. This fiasco had gotten us nowhere fast, but turning Mahalia’s backyard into a scene from Dawn of the Dead wasn’t going to solve anything either. Trying to walk through all the magic in the air between me and Matthison was like trying to walk out into the ocean against the incoming tide.

  The shot fired from Matthison’s gun cracked through the air, shattering the magic around us. Graive went down. Time stopped for a second and then picked up as if someone had pressed the fast forward button. People were scrambling everywhere. I pushed my way th
rough the sea of people. How did this all go so wrong so fast?

  I squeezed through the last set of shoulders that were pressed together. Graive was down, but not from the gunshot. Oberon must have pulled her down because there she was, splayed across him, while he held her face in his hands. The zombie witch was officially and permanently dead. There’s no reanimating someone whose brains are splattered all over the grass.

  “What the fuck is the matter with you?” Oberon shouted from underneath the Crypt Keeper.

  “What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with all of you? How could you just stand here and apathetically listen to this girl relive the pain she experienced only hours ago?” Matthison waived his gun around, a few of the witches ducking in case he accidentally squeezed the trigger. “Listening to her die all over again isn’t getting you any closer to finding the Inquisitors. It’s a good thing you all have these amazing powers, because you all appear to be fucking idiots!”

  Oberon gently pushed Graive off to the side and started to get up. I stepped in front of Matthison, backing him up.

  “For the record, Mahalia, there was nothing shamanic about what went on here tonight. We’re done here.” I turned, pushing against Matthison’s chest, physically forcing him to back up even further.

  He finally relented, and we made our way through the stunned crowd. I stupidly looked back and watched Oberon help Graive up, tenderly brushing dirt off her arms and smoothing her hair. We headed toward the side gate. The closer to the fence we got, the more the whispering picked up. I heard Mahalia tell Amalie to let me go. I squashed the little pang I felt when it wasn’t Oberon calling for me to stay. As the fence gate clicked shut, I couldn’t help feeling it was a perfect metaphor for my almost relationship with Oberon.

  Chapter 6

  The drive back to my apartment was quiet and thankfully short. It was a little after four in the morning and still dark. Matthison turned into the driveway and then into the small paved lot behind the building, stopping next to my car. I opened the car door and knew something was wrong the second my foot hit the pavement. Like an idiot, I alerted Matthison to the situation and then proceeded to waste my breath in telling him to stay in the car. I might as well have given him an engraved invitation. Matthison quietly pushed his door closed as mine slammed home, earning me a grimace over the roof.