by Sarah Piper
The strange, unfamiliar handwriting that had appeared so feverishly the other night had vanished, though I was no closer to answering its insistent question:
What are the consequences of messing with a demon’s soul?
Still, I’d left those pages blank. Even without the glowing blue words, the question still haunted me, waking me at night, slipping into the quiet hours before the dawn, whispering in my head.
I longed to talk to Asher about it, but that would require, well, talking to Asher. Obviously, that wasn’t happening.
Alone in the house for an entire blissful hour this evening, I was stretched out on the couch recording the details of today’s session with Liam when Emilio finally returned.
He’d just come home from a twelve-hour stint at the police station, and his face was as grim as I’d ever seen it.
“Where’s the demonic duo?” he asked.
“I think they’re out back working on Asher’s bike. What’s going on?”
“Round ‘em up and put on the coffee. I need to grab a quick shower, but then I’ve got some news.”
I closed my book and sat up fast. “About the vamp attack?”
“No. The hunter.” Emilio removed his badge and gun and headed down the hall toward his room, calling out one last directive. “On second thought, forget the coffee. We’re gonna need the hard stuff tonight.”
Twenty-One
EMILIO
Asher, Ronan, Gray, and I gathered around the dining room table with a bottle of whiskey and last night’s leftover veggie pizza, all three of them fidgeting in their chairs as they awaited the news.
I cleared my throat and sucked in a deep breath, picking up on too many scents at once—motor oil and metal from the guys, the tang of the alcohol, onions and garlic overpowering everything else on the pizza, and beneath all of that, the sharp, bright scent of Gray’s fear.
I didn’t blame her for being scared. Nothing about this situation was comfortable or reassuring, and I was about to make things worse in a lot of ways.
But the now-familiar steel in her eyes shone through anyway, and I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her—of how far she’d come.
“Well. Let’s have it,” she said, pouring herself the first shot of whiskey, then passing the bottle to Ronan. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure out how to deal with it.”
“Always do,” Ronan said, pouring his shot and passing the whiskey to Asher.
Classy as ever, the incubus took a swig right from the bottle before handing it to me, then he dove right into the pizza as if he hadn’t eaten in a month.
Filling my glass to the brim, I said, “This week has been an absolute shitshow in the Bay. It seems the brawl outside Black Ruby set off a chain reaction of supernatural crimes across the city. Fights, vandalism, arson, you name it. I had to call in a favor and bring in some rookie shifters from Driscol Island PD to help with the caseload, and we’re still neck deep. Between that and keeping the human cops out of our hair…”
I trailed off, taking a good swallow of whiskey before continuing.
“Point is,” I said, “my tech guy finished isolating the security cam footage from Haley’s block the night you guys were jumped. It’s grainy as hell, but we got the make, model, and a partial plate on the van the suspects used.”
“They’re not suspects,” Gray said. “They’re perpetrators. We know they did it.”
“Sorry, querida. Old habits.” I sipped my whiskey, then continued. “With some help from a contact at the DMV, we were able to get the full plate and ID the vehicle’s owner. Forty-nine-year-old named William Landes out in Raven’s Cape. Human, as far as we could tell.”
“Raven’s Cape… That’s on the coast, right?” Gray asked.
“Small community just about spitting distance from the shoreline,” I confirmed. “Lots of cliffs and caverns out there, so if that’s indeed where the hunter is holed up, it jives with your vision.”
“Did you talk to this Landes guy?” Ronan asked. “Is he a hunter, too? Or just some asshole looking to make a quick buck?”
“Neither,” I said. “That’s the bad news.”
“Let me guess.” Asher reached for a second slice of pizza, shoveling in a mouthful before he’d even finished his sentence. “Dude reported his van stolen months ago, didn’t see anything, doesn’t know anything, doesn’t want any trouble, and we’re right back to square fucking one.”
“Not even close.” I leaned back in my chair and looked up at the vaulted ceiling, wishing it were that simple. Square one would’ve been a hell of a lot better than murder one. “I put in a call to the RCPD as soon as I had an address. They sent a cop out to sniff around the property, get some more details from Landes.”
“And?” Gray asked. “Did he cooperate?”
I lifted my glass, gesturing for Ronan to pour me another drink, which I promptly chugged. The photos the department sent over were still burned into my retinas, making me queasy every time I closed my eyes.
No matter how long I’d done this job, it never got any easier.
“The officer found Mr. Landes in a shed behind the house,” I said, “bound and gagged. His eyes had been crudely removed, along with several of his fingers and toes. His throat was slit, though he likely passed out long before that happened.” I swallowed hard. “They’re estimating he’d been there at least a week, probably longer. Neighbors thought he was in Oregon visiting his mother.”
“Shit,” Ronan whispered, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to see Gray’s face when I said the next part.
“The victim was naked aside from a single piece of jewelry,” I said, and by her sharp intake of breath, I could tell she understood. “A silver crescent moon with an eye made of opal, black onyx, and topaz.”
No one spoke after that—not even Gray. When I finally found the courage to open my eyes and look at her, she was staring into her whiskey, her brows pinched together, her thoughts veiled.
“I asked them to send me the amulet, querida,” I said softly. “After they finish with the forensics.”
She nodded, but didn’t say a word, still fixated on her drink.
Since her big blowout with Asher last week, I hadn’t seen her shed a single tear. Not when she was shuffling Sophie’s tarot cards, or after a particularly grueling sparring session, or when I’d catch her staring out the window, her mind a million miles away. Not even when she’d dropped a can of soup on her bare toe last night.
But even without the tears, anyone looking at her now could sense the weight of her grief. It washed over me in waves, pulling my heart down like an undertow, pressing in on me from all sides. I could only imagine what it was like for her.
More than anything I wanted to take her into my arms, hold her to my chest, and promise her that this was going to get better. That even though it was my job, it didn’t have to be hers. That we wouldn’t always be sitting at this table rehashing the most gruesome details of the most heinous crimes, forcing her to relive the traumas of her past in the hopes that we might help someone else avoid the same pain.
I wanted to promise her that one day—maybe soon—we’d be able to eat an entire pan of brownies under a nearly-full moon for no other reason than because we damn well felt like it.
But I couldn’t make that kind of promise today. Not until we solved this case. And the only way to do that was to wade right into the thick of it, ugly parts and all.
“I take it you’ve got someone on point at RCPD?” Asher asked. “Someone you trust?”
I shot a quick glance to Ronan—the only other living soul who knew about my situation with the RCPD. He offered a nod of support, but he wasn’t saying a word.
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.
Raven’s Cove. Just speaking the name again sent a crack right down the middle of my heart.
I used to think a hundred and twenty-odd miles was plenty enough distance to put between that part of my life and this one. That with that kind of dist
ance—and enough time—I might be lucky enough to wake up one morning and not feel the hollow ache in my chest. To stare at my eyes in the mirror and not see all the old ghosts staring right back at me.
But I’d fled Argentina years earlier with the same stupid assumptions. If moving to a new damn continent hadn’t helped, what on earth had made me think a new town would be any better? A million miles, a million years, and I’d still be carrying the same pain, like a well-worn suitcase I just couldn’t seem to part with. And now it seemed the past I’d been trying for so damn long to outrun was on a collision course with a future I wasn’t sure I deserved, and this time, running wasn’t an option.
Not when the people sitting around this table were counting on me to stay. To deal with this. To make things right.
“The situation with the local police is complicated,” I said, settling on the easiest and most palatable explanation for all of us. “They’ve got quite a few shifters on the force—lone wolves who made their own pack some years ago. They’re excellent cops, but they’re territorial and don’t like outsiders. The chief is the toughest of the bunch.”
“You know the guy?” Asher asked.
I cut my gaze to Ronan again, then looked down, rolling the edge of my glass over the condensation rings on the table. “Yeah, I know the guy. The woman, actually.”
The RCPD chief and I had more history between us than I cared to recount, starting with our shared last name.
But if anyone at this table thought blood was thicker than water—or whiskey, for that matter—they obviously didn’t know my sister.
“From the little bit she was willing to share,” I continued, my wording much more diplomatic than it’d been on the phone with her earlier, “I learned that no witches have been reported missing or dead in their jurisdiction, and there haven’t been any other supernatural crimes outside the norms of what they usually see. If our man is holing up out there, he’s keeping a low profile.”
“That’s all part of his game,” Gray said. “This whole time, he’s been leaving us breadcrumbs. First, he takes Haley and Ash, but he doesn’t bother hiding the license plate or avoiding the cameras. Then he texts me the picture of Ash in the devil’s trap, leading us right to Norah’s house, where we’re ambushed by vampires who we later learn were ordered to leave me alive. He knew we’d track down the van’s owner, and he left us his mutilated body wearing my mother’s amulet.”
Her scent changed, her initial fear and trepidation receding as a wave of anger rushed in.
“He wants to be found,” she said. “He’s just baiting another trap, waiting for us to walk right into it.”
“Or multiple traps,” Ronan said. “Just to cover the bases.”
“Of course he is,” I said. “And in a perfect world, we’d let him keep playing his game, wait for him to make a mistake. But we can’t afford to sit on this. Even one witch’s life is too many to risk, and if Gray’s vision was accurate, he’s holding dozens captive. Maybe more.”
“And they’re not just Blackmoon Bay witches, either,” Gray said. “Again, if we’re assuming my vision was accurate, then the majority of his captives are out-of-towners. Who knows how long he’s been planning all this.” She shook her head, her lip curled in disgust. “Before Sophie died, she and Haley found some of Norah’s correspondence with other underground coven leaders, and they learned that a bunch of witches had been murdered recently, starting on the east coast and working westward. For all we know, he could’ve been behind all of them, killing as he made his way to me.”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility,” I said. “I checked in with my contacts at a few other PDs between here and Raven’s Cape, and they’re seeing the same thing. Witches are being murdered or kidnapped, and so far, no one has been able to pick up any decent leads.”
“That’s because he’s leaving all the leads for me,” Gray said. “He couldn’t kill me the first time, so he’s made it his mission in life to hunt me down. To torture me. And eventually, he’ll—”
“Hate to say it,” Asher said, shoving in a mouthful of food. The man had always eaten like every meal was going to be his last, but now he seemed to be making an Olympic sport out of it. “But I think it’s a lot more complicated than one dickless hunter’s obsession with our witch.”
Gray bristled, but I nodded for him to continue.
“Witches are magical guardians, right?” he said. “So even if they’re not practicing, their presence basically keeps the balance.”
Gray folded her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “What’s your point?”
“Think big picture here, Cupcake. If enough of you broomstick riders start vanishing from a community, things are bound to get fucked up. Look at what happened the other night with the vamps. Challenging Darius Beaumont?” Ash licked pizza sauce off his fingers, one at a time. “A few months ago, that would’ve been unheard of. And look what else has happened this week alone. Emilio said it himself—the Bay is a shitshow.”
“Disgusting habits aside,” Ronan said, glaring at Ash, “he’s right. We don’t know who else the hunter is working with, but there’s no way he’s pulling off so many killings and kidnappings alone. Hell, I doubt he could do it even with a small operation. Maybe he wants us to think he’s a lone psycho, but logistically it doesn’t add up. He’d need more men.”
“Hunters have always worked in packs,” Gray said, nodding. “Even when they came after me and Calla—two witches alone in the middle of nowhere—they still sent the whole cavalry.”
“Do you think Jonathan is still working with his father?” Ronan asked her. “Or the other men who came after you and Calla?”
“I don’t… know.” Gray’s face paled as she considered his question, the pain of her memories etching deep lines across her forehead.
I reached across the table and placed my hand on her forearm, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Beneath my giant mitt, she felt small and vulnerable, but on the inside, our bruja bonita was anything but.
I squeezed her again, nodding for her to continue.
“When Sophie died,” she said, “I never wanted to believe it was hunters. But even after Hollis confirmed Jonathan was the one who’d paid him for intel about us, I still assumed he was acting on his own—mostly because his actions were so different from the hunters’ usual search-and-destroy M.O. The vampire blood, the rune carvings, the kidnappings… I kind of figured he’d gone off the rails. But now?” She met my gaze across the table, her blue eyes clear and determined. “Yes, it’s totally possible that he’s still working with his family. That he just wants us to think he’s on his own so we walk into his trap even more unprepared than we already are.”
“And maybe destabilization is part of a bigger play for these fucks,” Asher said. “It’s kind of brilliant, actually. Take out the witches, let all the supers fuck themselves up in the ensuing chaos, then leave our communities ripe for takeover.”
“But takeover by whom?” I asked. “The hunters? How many of them could possibly be left?”
“More than we realized,” Gray said. “Sophie had written some things in her book of shadows about it. Apparently, a lot of the coven leadership believe the hunters may be joining forces again. Some of the witches tried reaching out to Norah, but Norah dismissed them, and she forbade Bay Coven members from reaching out to other groups.”
“Probably because she’s involved,” Asher said. “That has to be it.”
“This is… insane.” Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.
The feeling was mutual.
Dread settled over us like fog.
I reached for the bottle again, and this time, I didn’t bother with the glass, either.
“So where the hell is the Council in all this?” Gray asked. “I get that they’re kind of hands-off, but how long can this go unchecked? Humans died at Black Ruby the other night—and that’s just one incident, in one town.” She looked at Asher, who sat up a little straigh
ter under her scrutiny. “It’s not just about hunters and witches and screwing up the supernatural balance,” she said. “Humans are going to start noticing us—if they haven’t already—and that’s the last thing the Council wants.”
“The Council can go fuck themselves,” Ronan said, eloquent as always. “They checked out a long time ago.”
Gray shook her head, her blonde curls brushing her shoulders. “I don’t buy that. I know they tend to look the other way for a lot of stuff, but this is big. It’s going to affect them eventually, too.”
“Not up in those ivory towers,” he said.
“Part of what keeps them there is that the supernatural masses keep ourselves in check,” she said. “If things fall apart in a big way, that’s going to draw human attention on an epic scale. Right now, our biggest safety net is the fact that most people don’t believe in us. Once that net comes down, forget about it. Not even the Council will be able to stay in the shadows. As long as they want to maintain a presence and power on the earthly realm, they need us as much as they think we need them.”
“They’re already aware of the situation at Black Ruby,” I said. “But so far, they’re keeping their distance. My contact there says they’d rather let us sort it out. The humans who died weren’t—and I quote—high profile enough to cause a stir.”
“Those assholes,” Gray said. “I mean, I get that the humans who died signed up for the job, but still. Ignoring what happened sets a dangerous precedent for those who didn’t sign up.”
I took another swig of whiskey, hoping the alcohol would dull the sharp edges of my thoughts. It was bad enough when we were just dealing with a psycho hunter targeting Gray and the witches of Blackmoon Bay. Now, we were talking about murders across the state and country, supernatural crime waves, hunters rising again, and a potential conspiracy…
