by Maeve Hart
Esmeralda Stephens is practicing as a professional witch and scams money from innocent people who believe she has powers.
I have been unable to locate Herbert Morrison’s son, Milford Morrison, who raised Jacques Hunter. I believe he, too, has taken on an alias.
Herbert Morrison’s other son, Augustus, and his wife, Marcia, were killed when their car drove over a cliff. Their only son was not in the car at the time.
The money Jacques Hunter lives on is hard to trace and is filtered in from overseas countries and legitimate trusts in this country, which we believe were set up by Herbert.
When Jacques turned twenty-five he began gathering the pack. Now the pack has thirty-two members at last count. They turn into wolves and run through the forest and are a danger to the human race. I believe their ambition is to turn everyone into a wolf and destroy humankind for their own depraved purposes.
I held my stomach to stop myself being sick. How could Don possibly know all these things about Jacques and my grandmother? I read on and on. There was information about Jacques’ compound, about his house, and about the security of the compound. Don claimed to have the security codes for the alarm system of Jacques’ house and the entire compound. I double-checked, but Don mentioned nothing about the drones Jacques had for security or the armed guards who patrolled the perimeter.
“I need to call Jacques and let him know,” I murmured. Then I remembered that he’d cautioned me to be careful about what I said over the phone. I’d have to wait until I saw him next. What security codes had Don had, and where were they now?
He must’ve given them to the person who mailed this. I picked up the envelope, wondering how I could trace the person who’d sent it seeing as there was no return address. All I had to go on was the local postmark, which wasn’t much help.
That bastard! Don had only gotten close to me to find out more about Granny and the shifters. It seemed an extreme plan. We’d been together for two whole years and all that time he was only with me to get information. I hated the fact that I’d once loved him. He was the first man I’d ever really loved and now I knew he’d never felt the same.
I finished reading the document and carefully pushed it back into the envelope.
Who the hell was Don? And who were these notes for and why were they posted to me? The best I could guess was that he was working for the FBI, the police, or some kind of intelligence agency.
And that brought up questions about Jennifer. Had she really poisoned Don, or had the people he was working for, or for that matter, the people he was investigating, killed Don?
I glanced down at my phone when it beeped. It was Jacques. I decided to keep this new information to myself until I figured it out. Whoever thought they had security codes to the compound, they’d had them for a while and there’d been no security issues.
“Hello. Miss me already?” I asked.
“I do. That’s why I’m calling.” He sighed. “I hate being away from you.”
He always made me feel so good. “It won’t be for long. I’ve decided to call Abbie and try to catch up with her after she finishes work today.”
“Okay. Oh, there’s another call coming. Bye.” He ended the call before I had a chance to say goodbye or hint at what I’d found out.
Jacques had warned me my family couldn’t know I’d become a shifter. I had to pretend I was still the Destiny Stephens they knew who simply wasn’t interested in being a witch like my mother, Fauna, my aunt, Flora, and my grandmother, Esmeralda.
As far back as I could remember, my grandmother had told me the tale of how she’d slain the Alpha shifter—a fearsome and dangerous creature, who, I’d found out recently, was Jacques’ grandfather. Naturally it took me a little while to realize my grandmother’s story was true.
How was I to know that Granny had kept some of the Alpha’s remains in a jar in her spell room? I was snooping one day when I spilled the contents, which seeped through to my blood stream from a cut in my hand.
Later, I found out that Granny had blamed Don for touching the shifter remains because he’d been at her house asking questions. I was suspicious that Granny might have killed Don because she’d killed before.
I wondered if Jacques’ real name was Gabriel Morrison or whether it was some sick joke that Don had cooked up.
Thinking back to the letter Don’s solicitor had given me after his death, I wondered if that held a clue. I looked around for the letter and found it at the bottom of the second box I looked in. I sat down and read it.
My dearest Destiny,
If you are reading this that means I am no longer around. I have possibly been murdered because I know things.
There are some dangerous people around and you are so naive you wouldn’t realize that those closest to you are people you cannot trust. If anyone tries to befriend you after my death, be wary of them—very wary. Don’t trust anyone.
PS.
If we haven’t gotten married yet and I have given you a ring, kindly return it to my family.
I shook my head at his bad taste.
Don had entrusted his lawyer with the task of delivering the letter to me in the event of his death. He’d warned me not to trust anyone. In the document Don had said that if Jacques realized what Don was doing he’d ‘move in on me.’ Jacques had certainly made a move on me at my engagement party.
Or was Don’s telling me not to trust anyone just a way of making me wary of men so I’d never be happy? That had been my first instinct when I’d read the letter. That could’ve been his final parting jab because in the next sentence he’d asked me to give the engagement ring back to his family.
Could Don have been working for the FBI, or something like that if he knew about the wolf shifters and Granny killing the Alpha?
My mind swirled with possible scenarios. Had Jacques hired someone to kill Don for investigating him? Jacques had enough money to pay a professional hit man and an experienced professional would leave no trace. The neighbor who’d said he saw Jennifer leaving the apartment on the day Don was poisoned could’ve been paid handsomely to say that.
Then I remembered talking to Granny after Don died. She admitted he had come to visit her and she was angry with him because she thought he’d touched the Alpha shifter’s remains. Granny had said Don asked her about the Alpha shifter she’d slain. It was just as I’d read in the document.
After Don’s visit to Granny, she had found that there was a small piece missing around the rim of the jar that held the shifter remains. Maybe he had taken a sample of the remains and accidently put a chip in the glass jar. Perhaps he’d taken a sample of everything in Granny’s spell room.
Tears came to my eyes when I thought again how Don had used me. He’d never loved me. At least that explained why he was so mean to me.
As soon as I sat back heavily on the couch, I remembered my first encounter with Detective Andrews. He had said he was working on a related case and when I asked if that case was related to Don’s murder, he’d said no. It had seemed strange at the time, but I’d brushed it off and had thought nothing more about it. What if he had only said ‘no’ to throw me off and he was working with Don on investigating the shifters? Was that the reason Andrews had been called in on Don’s murder case?
Don couldn’t have been working alone because someone would’ve had to send the information to me. It was postmarked locally. It was as though someone was letting me know the truth of what was going on for my own good. Someone may have thought I was in danger.
The FBI, or whomever it was Don was working for, was onto the whole shifter pack, but if they knew everything they would know that I had stayed at the compound. Jacques hadn’t been particularly worried that I had my cell phone on and he should know that phones could be traced as their signals pinged off various towers.
I couldn’t share my thoughts with anyone. My family would be horrified that I was a shifter, and if Jacques was right, they might destroy me. Neither could I tell Abbie. She knew my
relatives were witches, but I was certain she wouldn’t believe that shifters existed.
Springing to my feet, I grabbed the thick envelope that held Don’s document, and shoved it under the mattress for safekeeping.
Figuring food would make me feel better, I grabbed my bag and headed outside to find some.
Once I was outside with the cool air brushing gently against my face, I headed to the first café I came across, marched right up to the counter, and ordered a piece of chocolate cake and a cappuccino.
I always thought better on a full stomach. It felt awful to have to think twice about whom I could trust. My best guess was that I could trust no one.
For the first time in ages, I thought about my father. Where was he and why had he never tried to contact me? I was nearly thirty-two years old and the only time I’d seen him was when he’d come to the house when I was seven. I had to wonder if he knew my mother was a witch. And why had they never married after I was born, or better still, before I was born? I figured my mother had been in love with him by the way she would cry when I mentioned his name. For twenty years I’d kept quiet about him for that reason.
Each birthday party I had as a child, I hoped my father would turn up, but he never did. I shrugged away the disappointment that thoughts of my father awoke, and tried to figure out what was really going on with the people who surrounded me. My father issues were a problem for another day.
I started with the facts I knew. Granny had killed Jacques’ grandfather and openly admitted it to the family, but according to Don’s document, not to anyone outside the family.
I’d learned Don was only in a relationship with me to find out the link between Granny and Jacques’ grandfather, Herb.
That had to be where I should start. I’d visit with Granny and drill her on what the real relationship had been between her and the Alpha shifter.
The waiter brought my cake and cappuccino over.
“Thank you.”
I was pleased to see they gave me a large piece of cake and the frosting—the best part—was thick. The food at the compound was healthy and sweet things were limited to fruit, so I was delighted to be tucking into a piece of much-needed sugar-filled cake.
I dug my fork in and loaded it with a generous dollop of frosting. When it hit my mouth, it reinvigorated my brain and I immediately felt better. After I had demolished half the cake, I started on the cappuccino.
Carefully, I tried to recall everything Jacques had told me about his grandfather and my grandmother. I vaguely remembered that he’d said witches and shifters were enemies but ‘they’ thought they would be different. When I’d asked who ‘they’ were, he’d annoyingly told me I’d find out in time. The ‘they’ could’ve been the Alpha shifter and Granny. What if they thought they’d be different and had some kind of relationship back then? Jacques’ comment hadn’t meant much at the time, but now I thought more about it, that was the only thing he could’ve meant. Was it out of the question that Granny and Jacques’ grandfather might have had some kind of a romantic encounter?
I needed to find out the answers to all these things and I hoped I could. Perhaps I could slip Granny some kind of truth serum. Placing my fingertips up to my mouth, I giggled at the thought. It would not go down well with her if she discovered what I was doing. I rejected the truth serum idea—I was sure such a thing probably didn’t exist.
The next thing I had to figure out was my ‘cover story’ for asking Granny questions when I visited her.
Could I be writing a family history? That probably wouldn’t work because she mightn’t want those things written down. It was my best shot, though; I had to give it a go since I couldn’t come up with any better reason.
I stared into the froth of my half drunk cappuccino and stirred it slightly. My whole life again had become uncertain. All I’d wanted was to meet a nice man, fall in love, have a nice house, start a family, and be normal. Now I was a shifter and was anything but normal. I had to face the fact that I was never destined for normalcy.
Don must’ve found me super annoying. And the bastard called me dumb. I was angry about that. Anyway, I guess I was dumb to have anything to do with Don considering his psychological abuse that had escalated to physical abuse. And why had he been so jealous? That part didn’t make sense now.
I sighed and looked at the crumbs on my plate. Another piece of cake, maybe a small piece, would make me feel better and tide me over until dinnertime.
Chapter 3
Granny opened the door before I’d finished knocking. It gave me a chill. It was as though she’d been waiting for me.
She stepped aside. “What a surprise. Come in.”
Granny always looked impeccable no matter what time of the day and no matter whether she was expecting someone or not. If I were home all day by myself I’d stay in my dressing gown and slippers, but not Granny. She always wore full makeup and long flowing dresses, and was never seen without her platinum blonde wig. Before her hair had thinned, she wore the exact same full bob in the same shade.
We both sat on the couch in the living room.
“How’s your business doing? Didn’t you start up on your own?” Granny asked.
I sighed inwardly. It was something I had to explain nearly every time I visited. The only things Granny seemed to remember correctly were things that happened long ago, or her spells. “I did, but it’s not doing well.”
“I can help you there.”
“No, Granny, I don’t want you to do any spells.”
She pushed out her shiny pink lips. “I can’t think why not. Do you see it as cheating? It’s not.”
“I don’t know what I see it as, but I don’t want to do it.”
“You wouldn’t have to. I’d do it for you.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Same difference.”
“Have you seen your mother lately?”
“No, I haven’t. Why? Is she okay?”
“As far as I know.”
I launched right into my cover story. “I’m thinking of writing about our family history.”
She crinkled her nose. “Why?”
“So we have a record of it.”
The corners of her pink lips tipped downward in disapproval. “Are you pregnant?”
I trembled. “No, of course not!” With my genes, I couldn’t think of anything worse.
“Why would you want to write it down? It only makes sense to write out spells and I already have my Book of Shadows for that.”
“You do?” She’d never mentioned that before.
“Yes. I’ve got every incantation and spell I’ve ever performed in that book. Well, only the ones that worked. There was no point recording the ones that didn’t.”
I nodded. “Can I see it?”
“Yes. Come into my spell room.”
I’d struck gold! She would have information about the spell—the one that destroyed the shifter. Jacques had told me shifters live forever but there are a few ways to kill them. Granny must’ve known at least one of the ways.
Walking into the room, I saw the altar with the familiar candles still burning atop it from spells performed—I guessed—earlier that morning. Some of her wealthier clients had her on retainer.
Granny crouched down behind the counter in the center of the room, opened a cupboard, and retrieved a large, brown, leather-bound book. “Here it is.”
I walked closer, looking at the finely worked pentagram design on the front. She placed it down on the counter with extreme care, and then her twinkling green eyes fixed on me.
“Why haven’t I ever seen it before, Granny?”
Her finely trimmed eyebrows rose. “You’ve never asked to see it.”
I refrained from pointing out that I couldn’t have asked to see something I never knew existed. My grandmother didn’t live in the same world as me; she had her head in her magic and other realms.
When she opened the book to the first page, I asked, “Was this handed down from your mother?”
> “No. I started this book by myself.”
“Was there ever another one?”
“The old one was destroyed.”
“How?”
She stared at me for a moment before she spoke. “The one whose name shall not be spoken.”
That narrows the field, I thought. I took a stab in the dark. I didn’t think an earthquake or a flood destroyed it, and she’d never mentioned a fire. “The Alpha shifter destroyed it?”
Slowly, she nodded and looked back at the book. “He destroyed everything I held dear.”
“Like what?” I took another step forward. This was what I’d come to learn about and I was delighted the conversation was flowing in that direction.
“That’s for another time,” Granny said.
“Why? Why can’t I know now?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve always avoided talking about it.”
I took hold of her arm. “Why don’t we sit down and I’ll make you a cup of hot tea and we can talk about it?”
“I suppose you should know what really happened.”
“Yes. I’d really like to learn more about your life and how brave you’ve been and… everything else. Come on.” I led Granny to the living room without giving her a chance to say no.
I sat Granny down on the couch and then went into the kitchen to switch the kettle on. Even though the old house was large, the kitchen was tiny—an add-on, like many sections of the house which had been added over the years. The house was well over two hundred years old and still had the original floorboards, which continued through to the small galley kitchen. Granny enjoyed cooking, although I didn’t know how she could do so in a space so small.
I filled the kettle with water and flicked the electricity on, and then went out to sit beside Granny.
“Do you have real tea or do you use teabags?”
Her mouth downturned and she drew her perfectly shaped eyebrows together. “Do you have to ask?”
