Bad Impression : A Sadie Salt Novel (Sadie Salt Series Book 2)

by Ware Wilkins

  “Dr. Winston also gave me a list of witches who have experience as midwives,” I add. “But I don’t know what kind of compensation they ask for. If you have a clue or can help with that, it would be amazing.”

  His gaze darts back and forth between the two of us, his lips pursed. Finally, he says, “I wasn’t talking about that kind of money. I’m asking how much money do you need to take care of the problem.”

  White anger flashes in me and my shield, which hides the bone magic, almost drops in the temporary lapse of calm. The impulse to hurt him, really hurt him, is throbbing inside of me. But my inner strength, meager as it may be sometimes, wins out. Because if I’m feeling like this, I can’t imagine how Ingrid is feeling. She needs me more than my anger needs an outlet.

  I throw a protective arm around her waist.

  “My baby’s termination isn’t now, nor will it ever be, on the table,” Ingrid seethes through gritted teeth. “I’ve considered my options long before you decided to show up, and that decision is made. Ship sailed. The end.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am, daddy. I can’t believe that you’ve ignored me for all this time and now the thing you want to ‘help’ me with is making a choice for me. My choice is final.”

  His shoulders drop, ever so slightly. “I’ve seen things, Ingrid.”

  “Me too,” she replies. “Apparently my baby is like a psychic tuning fork. When I get premonitions, they’ve been accurate.”

  “Then you know?” His incredulity is painted on every facial feature.

  “Enough. It’s still worth it. He’s going to be amazing,” she says, her hand rubbing and cradling her belly. “It’ll be hard, but I want him.”

  His smile is so nasty I clench my fist so I won’t slap him. “Her, Ingrid. You’re having a girl.”

  I know he’s hoping to shake her confidence. One last attempt at exerting whatever right he thinks he has to make this choice for her. After all, if she’s wrong about this, what else might Ingrid be wrong about? But my girl… she’s ready for it. “A girl, then. Doesn’t change the amazing part.”

  Good on you, Ingrid.

  “What about support? How are you going to raise a baby that you, by your own admission, can’t even take to a doctor? Where will you have it? Obviously not a hospital.”

  “Well, as I’ve mentioned, Sadie’s more than stepped up to the plate. And she just said she’s found some people to talk to. I trust it will work out… I have a good feeling about it.” She smiles back at him, confidence radiating from her.

  “You?” He looks at me, changing tactics. “You weigh half a pound and have no powers. You’ve never completed college. You’re a freaking dental assistant who moonlights with the paranormals who live here. You--” His eyes grow wide, glazing over, his mouth hanging open. It’s freaky, but I’ve seen it before. Mr. Dalton is having a vision. Ingrid shoots me a worried glance. He can’t see us right now. Or, at least, he isn’t seeing us standing here, in this moment. I shrug at her. There’s not much we can do but wait.

  Just in case, though, I lean in and whisper, “I will never let him, or anyone else, hurt you or Commissioner Biscuit. You know that, right?”

  “I know,” she says, taking my hand and squeezing it.

  The hum of the refrigerator is loud as we wait. Sometimes his visions are fast, and you’d never know he had one. Others, like this? Well, who knows everything he’s seeing? The future, he once told us, is malleable. So when he sees things in the future that aren’t immediate, he tends to see more than one option. Depending on variables, choices, and how many people are involved, that could mean a bunch of options.

  When he finally blinks, Mr. Dalton doesn't apologize. Instead, he stares at me hard. Up and down his piercing glare drags, as if assessing who I am at my very core.

  It's not until he steps closer to me that I realize I've been holding my breath, because I try to inhale and discover there's no more room in my lungs. This forces a hard, awkward exhale.

  “Give me your hand,” Mr. Dalton orders. There's no option to duck out.

  Ingrid grows rigid, protesting. “No, daddy, that's ridiculous. Sadie, you don't have to do it.”

  While the entire paranormal world knows that Mr. Dalton is an incredible psychic, very few know that through touch he can read a person’s thoughts and learn their histories. Most of my secrets are out or dead. My mother not being my mother, but an ex-hunter. My deal with the tooth fairy. But my largest secret, while not as secret as it probably should be, is my bone magic.

  With one touch, he'll know not only that I'm a bone witch, but that I'm practicing. He may even be able to feel the rippling current of magic flowing inside of me, begging for release.

  Mr. Dalton could call for my death with that information, no questions asked. It would certainly give Ingrid nowhere to turn to if he truly wants to do something to the baby.

  I hesitate, meeting his steely gaze stare for stare. I'm not sure what I'm looking for, but I do find something. A small measure of trust. Just a sliver. But although my parents lied to me, keeping me in the dark about my nature, they did so with the best intentions. They did the best they could in a situation that had no precedent. There's still residual anger I feel about that, but I know, truly, that being overprotective or overbearing wasn't their intention.

  Mr. Dalton has never, so long as I've known Ingrid, been father of the year. He's a cold, stoic, know it all. The fact that he really does know it all, or can divine most of it, is just plain old unfair. But he does love Ingrid. I don't think she's ever questioned that.

  And Ingrid loves me. She knows what I am and still wants me to help her with this new, terrifying part of her life. If he touches me, he learns my secrets, yes. But he also gets my triumphs.

  I hold out my hand and he takes it, shutting his eyes.

  “Oh dear,” he says, but he says it with a hint of a smile. “You're heading for a world of trouble, Sadie.” Some psychic you are, I think. I already knew there's trouble.

  “You'll have to choose wisely. There's pain with either.” Ah, damn. That's not subtle at all. As if I needed more difficulty in choosing between Benji and Abe.

  He releases my hand. “But, you do have the strength--” he pauses and gives a mirthful laugh, “to protect my daughter and granddaughter.”

  Stunned, I don't move. He's referencing my powers and not calling for a witch trial…

  Cool.

  “Um, thanks, Mr. Dalton. And about that money?”

  My shoulders release at his chuckle. “Yes, I can help. Text me the list of witches, so I can do a little investigating.” Meaning he’ll try to divine which is the best choice for Ingrid. This is a huge relief, and Ingrid leans into me for support. Having her father be, well, supportive is a change of pace that neither of us expected.

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  I rub her back and she lifts up and goes to hug him, albeit stiffly.

  “Would you like to stay for tea?” I ask. “We’ve already had dinner, but I’d be happy to brew some for us.”

  “No, I have a client soon. But I promise that I’ll try to be a bit more available in the months to come. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything. Sadie, would you walk me to the door?”

  He pats Ingrid’s back, kisses her forehead, and gestures for me to follow him to the door. Which is silly, because we’re living in an apartment. It’s like… right there. But Mr. Dalton is too polite to just say “I want to talk to you alone” I suppose, so I play along.

  At the door, he lowers his voice and leans in. “There’s trouble here. I wanted Ingrid to come back to live with me, but with what I’ve learned of you--” He frowns, gathering thoughts. “I’m torn. Some things about your future are fuzzy. When I try to glean outcomes, it gets too unclear. I can only assume that’s because your magic interferes with it.”

  “Well, the Tooth Fairy made me immune to lots of magic when we made our pact. It makes it hard for outside influences, like Oliver’s for e
xample, to affect me. My own works just fine.”

  “Do you think being psychic is magic?”

  “Do you think it’s not?”

  He tips his head and quirks a small smile. “Well, my point is. I can’t tell about you and… I can’t tell about the baby. I have just enough to know that you’re in danger and so is Ingrid. As much as I want to be closer, I could only see the bad things before they happened. I’m not equipped to protect her like you can.”

  “So is this the watch out for your baby girl speech?”

  “It is exactly that. Watch out for her, Sadie. Oh, and I’m sorry about Doug Winston, though I’m quite surprised about his involvement with the hunters.”

  I’ve known Dr. Dalton long enough to not be surprised that he got that information when he touched me. I am curious about what he has seen and what he hasn’t. He’s never had difficulty with visions before, at least that I’m aware of. “Thanks. And thanks for coming. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about the baby. I just assumed that you, uh, knew. And weren’t interested.”

  “My gifts don’t make me omniscient, Sadie. I have to be thinking about a person and focused on them to get an accurate vision. With all the danger around, it is important for you to remember that. I won’t know if you need help unless you tell me.”

  Huh. That makes sense. “Okay. I’ll call if we need anything.”

  I put my hand on the knob and he stops me, eyes glazing again. Another vision? So soon? This one doesn’t last long. “Ah,” he says when he comes to. “Don’t call me about this kind of trouble. And for God’s sake, listen to Ingrid. It’s ridiculous to lead two nice boys around. You should know better.”

  Before I can even sputter in dismay, he places his hand over mine, twists the knob, and opens the door, where a tall, broad-shouldered figure is waiting.

  Abe.

  “Good luck,” Dr. Dalton mutters as he sweeps past Abe’s body and leaves.

  Abe nods to Ingrid’s father. His mouth is a thin line. There’s a wild edge to his ruffled hair and he’s got some serious stubble going on.

  “Uh, hi Abe?”

  “Is that a question?” he asks. The yellow light from my porch lamp casts his skin in an weird hue. Briefly I remember when he was here and I had Benji in my apartment, along with Alec and a nude Henry, and I made him think I was running an illegal kinky trade in my small Grimloch apartment. At the time, that mortification was the worst thing that could have happened in my relationship (which had been practically non-existent) with Abe.

  That, of course, was before I’d slept with a vampire.

  “No, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you.” And I’m totally unprepared to have any kind of talk with you. Ingrid’s father was just here and threw us for a loop and I’m torn because, well, it is good to see Abe. Real good. He is looking super sexy, and even after everything that’s happened my heart does a little dance when I see him. I also know I need to go check on Ingrid.

  “Sorry. I was feeling claustrophobic in Doug’s place. He decided to go vegetarian and it’s killing me.” He holds up a grocery bag. “I brought steaks. Enough for all of us. May I use your kitchen?” He gives me a puppy dog look that seems to have been perfected since getting some wolf in him.

  “I would, but it’s not a great time--”

  “The man has steak?” Ingrid’s shout thunders behind me. “Let him in!”

  Nevermind that we just ate most of a cake between the two of us not even an hour ago. Or that there’s a lot we should talk about, like her worrying about me and what her father said and I still haven’t had a chance to tell her about the cats, or call Oliver, or ask Ms. Nickles about some protective spells I might be able to cast over our apartment.

  “I guess you can come in.” Stepping aside, I breathe his scent in as he brushes past. I don’t miss the hurt on his face. I’m sure he was expecting a more positive reception and I hate that I’ve wounded him.

  “Hey,” he says, turning as I close the door. His muscles and height mean he’s looming over me, practically pressing my back against the door. The magic inside of me purrs, giving my hormones a boost I would have rather skipped. Heat creeps through me and I work hard not to grab the front of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss. “Did a raccoon or something die nearby? It smells like death out there.”

  I bite my lip. Should I tell him about the cats? The mussiness of his hair, the stubble, and… searching his eyes, I see it: A yellow tinge. He’s in control, but his wolf is lurking just beneath the surface. I want to tell Abe. He’s still the sheriff in my mind, even if he’s not working right now. His brain is wired for things like this. Abe’s always been a problem solver, and dedicated to getting to the root of things.

  If he wasn’t still struggling with his shifting, he’d be perfect.

  But I’m afraid that if he discovers something dangerous is happening here, he’ll shift. I’m not pack; I can’t communicate with him as easily when he’s wolf. I’m sure he can hear me and understand me, but I doubt he’s that interested in following orders. That whole alpha thing.

  If Abe couldn’t keep a check on his wolf, then Alec would be forced to get involved. That would end in one way: A fight for leadership of the pack. Abe’s a strong guy, but Alec has centuries of skill and practice on him.

  My brain basically makes the leap from dead cats equaling dead sexy wolf in seconds. Can’t tell him. “No, but I’ll call the landlord. I’m sure that it’s just that. A raccoon or a rat or something.”

  His brows press together and he looks at me more intently. That thin-lipped frown deepens. I see his nostrils flare as he smells the air, like he’s testing it. Testing me, more likely. “Okay,” he says, but it’s obvious from his tone that he’s not convinced.

  He walks away, leaving me reeling from his absence and the lie I just told. My body feels extra juiced, even though I haven’t absorbed any more teeth since the ones Ms. Nickles gave me. Following them, I see Ingrid hugging Abe, her belly wedged between them. “Hey, Abe. It’s good to see you.”

  He’s pink in his cheeks. “Even with all the scarring?” The tremor in his voice is heartrending.

  “Oh, I saw that before in a vision. It’s actually pretty hot. Don’t you worry about it. This is a safe place for you.”

  Geez. I press my palms into my eyes. I forgot to warn Ingrid about Abe’s extensive scarring, and she’s having more and more of these visions. So much so that she’s not mentioning all of them. It’s stressful and, combined with the sexual energy pulsing in me from Abe’s closeness, I’m losing my mind. “I forgot something in my car,” I announce. “I’ll only be minute.”

  The cold cut of the night air does clear my head but does nothing to alleviate the sexual tension I’m feeling. There’s something off about it. All jokes aside, this is nuts. It’s one thing to be craving some intimacy because it’s been a while. It’s another thing to feel like a dog ready to hump any available surface. When I used full blown magic in the past, it didn’t feel like this.

  I need to talk to Ms. Nickles.

  Rushing down the stairs, I lightly tap on her door. When she opens it, she doesn’t have her usual look of disdain. Instead, her eyes dart behind me, scanning the parking lot and surrounding woods. “What do you want?” she hisses.

  “Um, there’s been a sort of side effect from the magic I need to ask about.”

  A hiss escapes her lips, pursed so tight they look like a balloon knot. “Hush.” She keeps looking over my shoulder. I’m not a complete dummy.

  “Is there someone here?”

  “I don’t know, but the cats have been missing.”

  A rock forms in my gut. “I know where they are.” All this time I was thinking someone like Oliver or Benji would know about the cats. It never occurred to me to ask Ms. Nickles. Maybe I am a dummy. “What about them?”

  “Where are they?” The wildness in her eyes is scaring me. Ms. Nickles has always been the bitter, old, but always calm neighbor. At most, angry. But this is clear
and definite fear. An uncomfortable tremor rolls through me. If someone as powerful as Ms. Nickles is scared, then I need to be, too.

  “In the trees beside the lot. They’re dead, Ms. Nickles. Someone killed them.”

  “All of them?” She gasps.

  “I mean, I don’t know how many were here, but there were more than I’d ever wanted to see, hanging from nooses.”

  “Shit.”

  A startled laugh escapes from me. I don’t know what I was expecting from her, but a cuss word wasn’t it. She bares her teeth.

  “This is no laughing matter, Sadie Salt. Those cats aren’t normal cats, they’re--” She clamps her mouth shut, and then, before I can prod her to finish, she changes. Her demeanor shifts back into the Ms. Nickles I know and can’t love, all crotchety and bitter. “I don’t care if he’s your boyfriend or not, Sadie Salt. You keep that racket down or I’ll have to call the cops again! The landlord is this close to evicting you and that hussy of a roommate of yours!”

  Ah. Right. There are so many questions and I want answers, but the only way I’ll get them from Ms. Nickles is if we keep our relationship, however you wish to define it, a secret. “He is a cop, Ms. Nickles. Just turn your TV up louder and stop being so nosy. We’ll try to keep it down.”

  She slams the door in my face. The parking lot behind me instantly feels more treacherous. Like danger is looming behind me, and I’m bitterly unprepared for it. Except…

  Beneath the magic shield I’ve created around myself, keeping my bone magic hidden, there’s a surge of power inside. The juice I’ve been carrying around sort of balls up inside of me again, eager to be unleashed. I’m not unprepared, but it would be in my best interest not to have to use it. After all, I haven’t exactly told anyone that I’m using again. I want to perfect some of the spells and my control over it before I talk to Abe about trying magic on him.

  I stroll to my car, fumbling with my keys. The world’s worst actress putting on a show of trying to seem not scared to death of cat-killing hunter thugs waiting behind the wings. Inside my car, I grab Respect. The bat’s reassuring weight and magical connection helps soothe jangled nerves.