Following some inborn instinct, she raised her arms, opening them wide.
Morin faded back, his hands trailing away from her skin.
She turned in the moonlight, moving her head side to side slowly, widening her stance to let it drench every inch of her skin before seeming to warm and turn into a thin film that felt like the lightest silk against her body.
Again, Cait turned and faced Morin, who stood just outside the rim of moonlight. The gleam of his dark eyes was dulled; his face looked haggard. She’d taken from him. Part of his essence was now hers.
“Will it be returned?” she asked, her voice echoing in a hollow space.
He shook his head. “My gift to you. But there’s something else. A weapon I’ll entrust to you. One to help you in your battle.”
Cait glanced at the moon above, said a silent prayer of thanks, and then headed into the shadows opposite Morin to dress.
Chapter Twenty
Sam watched as Cait closed Morin’s door behind her, a long, wrapped bundle under one arm. The moment her hand let go, light gleamed around the edges of the doorway, and it disappeared. The alley wall returned to brick. She stood there a moment, staring at the place the door had been.
He strode forward as she turned and straightened her jacket, pulling up the lapels as though chilled. “Cait,” he called softly.
She jerked and glanced toward him, and then her gaze slid away guiltily.
His own narrowed, sweeping her frame, wondering whether she’d renewed her relationship with Morin in more ways than one. He’d done a little research of his own. Googling “drawing down the moon” on his cell phone, he hadn’t liked what he’d learned. Words like “sky clad” and “sex magick” shouted in his mind.
She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here? Have you waited long?”
“Of course not,” he drawled. “You know time stands still in his place.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She mustered a smile.
“You get what you needed?” he asked, his voice gruff because he wanted to ask more but knew better. Instead, he guided her with a hand at the small of her back toward the mouth of the alley where his car waited.
She nodded. “I’m ready. Are we going to the house now?”
“Jason will meet us just before dawn. We have about an hour to get there.”
“You check in on Celeste?”
“I called. She’s doing OK. Resting now. Her ribs are cracked, and she’s pretty beat up, but she’ll be fine. What’s that you have?” he asked, pointing toward her bundle.
“A weapon. Something to draw the demon out of his host’s body. We don’t want to kill an innocent if we can help it.”
He took it from her and placed it on the backseat of his sedan, then leaned against the side of the car, folding his arms over his chest. “The door’s gone.”
Her head ducked. “I gave him back his key,” she said softly.
“That mean you won’t be seeing him again?” he asked, hopeful she’d make that step.
“It means I won’t see him for now. I have things to think about. I may need something…from his books…sometime in the future. If things go well.”
“Don’t suppose you’ll tell me about what just happened?” He clipped out his question.
She swallowed. Her eyes rounded, but her gaze held steady with his. “He gave me some of his power. Enough to ward off the demon if he tries to enter me.”
And even though he’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t go there, he asked, “Morin do any ‘entering’ of his own?”
Her head canted. “Are you jealous?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I did what I had to, Sam. But we didn’t have sex. Not like you think.”
“Were you sky clad?” he growled.
Both her eyebrows shot up.
Even in the streetlight, he could detect a blush.
“You know about that?”
“Were you?”
“I was. He wasn’t. Nothing happened.”
Only something had, because she blinked. He cussed under his breath, shot out a hand to grab her arm, and pulled her close.
When she was nestled close, hips snug against his, he tipped up her chin. “Yeah, it’s not the time,” he whispered. “But I have to trust you, Cait. Have to know you won’t lie just to make things easier for me or you.”
“Nothing happened that I can’t tell you about later.” Cait reached up a hand and laid her palm against his cheek. “I wouldn’t betray you.”
Sam forced himself to stop. As much as he wanted to squeeze every little detail from her, he knew they’d reached a point where he needed to prove he could be there for her. Whatever the cost to his male pride. It was time he showed her some trust.
His embrace tightened, and he let out a groan, struggling with his jealousy, with the sickening feeling in his gut that he’d carried around since he’d heard about her and Morin. “I don’t know how to let it go, to stop feeling like I need to punch him out.”
Her mouth curved slowly into an impish smile. “I could cast a spell. Make you care less about me.”
Only he didn’t want that either. Cupping her chin, he bent toward her. He started soft. Wanting just a taste—and a chance to reaffirm his claim. Her soft sigh, a feminine little gust that swept into his mouth, pulled him deeper. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, scraped his fingers through her hair, and held her still while he ravaged her mouth.
When he lifted his head, he noted the swelling of her lips. Satisfaction burned inside him. Maybe he was wrong to feel jealous of her old lover, but Morin shared something with her he never would. Magic. From the moment she’d cast the spell bag in the air and asked the Powers That Be for help in finding the mage, he’d watched her change. Even now, she wore a look of confidence and power he hadn’t seen before. That she’d found it without him rankled. It was selfish, he knew. Maybe made him feel a little small.
Sam stared downward, noting the way her eyes stared back, slightly unfocused. He ducked again to kiss her, a light brush that turned into a longer, molten kiss. A Cait-kiss.
When he set her away, she swayed for a moment, then gave him a full, blazing smile, looking so beautiful his teeth ached as he ground down.
“Keep faith with me, Sam. Please. Just a little while longer. I need you strong. And with me. I can’t do this alone.”
Sam wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. No matter what horrors this day might hold, he wouldn’t let her down. “Better go see what Leland has for us.”
They followed the river, heading north. Near the outskirts of Memphis, they took an exit that led them through subdivision after subdivision of cookie-cutter, single-story homes.
“Almost there,” he murmured.
Headlights flashed and then dimmed. “That’s Jason,” she said softly.
Sam pulled a U-turn in the middle of the empty street and parked his car behind Jason’s.
Jason opened his door and got out, heading toward them. He slid into the back of Sam’s car, sitting forward on the seat. “Found the house. It’s at the end of the cul-de-sac,” he said, pointing toward a street. “It’s quiet. I walked as close as I could, but the neighbor’s dog went ape-shit, so I came back. Didn’t want to spook anyone inside. A car’s parked in the garage, but the place looks vacant. Paper’s over the windows, like they’re painting inside.”
As he nodded, Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Any ideas how we’re going to get in?”
Jason held up a key.
Cait grinned. “Who’d you borrow that from?”
“A locksmith friend of mine. It’s a—”
“I don’t want to know.” Sam shook his head.
“No, you don’t.” Cait laughed. “But it’s better than breaking a window, don’t you think?”
“We’re already breaking half a dozen laws and statutes. We’re not cops here, and we don’t have a warrant.”
“Won’t matter if we find those girls.” Cai
t couldn’t keep the growl from her voice. Sometimes she was fiercely glad she wasn’t a cop anymore. Too many stupid rules got in the way of simply kicking ass.
Sam pulled in a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
The three of them stepped out of the car.
Sam hit the button on his glove box and pulled out his personal Glock. Without a holster, he held it low against his thigh.
Jason patted his jacket pocket to indicate he was packing as well.
Cait reached into the floor behind the seats and picked up the package she’d brought from Morin’s.
Sam arched an eyebrow. “Sure you wouldn’t rather have a gun?”
“This is better.” I hope.
They followed the sidewalk that curved around the corner, past houses where lights were beginning to blink on. Folks getting ready to face another day of work. Cait wondered how they all went about business as usual without a clue a monster might be living among them.
“Might be a bust,” Sam said under his breath.
Cait glanced ahead, watching the mailbox numbers. Her gaze caught on a row of pretty birdhouses. In the yard, grass and weeds stood a foot high. “Not so sure about that…”
Sam’s eyed the boxes. His jaw ground shut.
“If he’s inside, try to wing him. No kill shots.”
Sam nodded crisply.
Jason gave a small two-fingered salute.
Then Sam fanned out, stepping through the grass to the corner of the two-story brick house to peer into the backyard. Cait took the opposite corner, and Jason headed to the front door.
Jason used his special key, gripped the doorknob, and quietly opened it. “We’re in,” he whispered.
Sam and Cait crept onto the porch, following him inside.
The air in the house was chilly despite the fact there appeared to be no power—no lights, no air.
Windows were taped off, sheets of brown paper covering them as though the frames were about to be painted. The floor was covered in thicker paper. Their steps crunched quietly while they went room to room, ducking inside each one, then whispering “clear.”
At every room entrance, she saw her reflection in the thick sheets of Visqueen plastic—like mirrors moving every time they lifted them aside to pass through. They regrouped at the bottom of a flight of wooden stairs.
It was pitch-black at the top. Quiet. Too quiet. Cool air rolled down the steps, and Cait knew that by the time they reached the top, they’d see their breath.
“This is it,” she whispered. “Feel it?”
The men nodded, both their faces set in grim masks.
“No kill shots,” she repeated, patting her weapon. “We get him down, I use this. No one has to die.”
Both men held up their weapons. Sam pushed her behind Jason, then preceded them both up the stairs, gun held out and gripped in both hands.
Her heart pounding, she followed behind the men, listening with her ears and her mind, trying to “see” what was ahead, but the silence was deafening. The darkness complete.
At the top of the stairs, with only dim outlines of light around doorways to guide them, Sam passed at the first door but pointed Jason toward it before moving to the next.
Feeling useless, Cait trailed, ears pricked to any sounds. She heard only their soft tread, the occasional squeak of a floorboard. Again, the guys whispered “all clear.”
One last staircase led into the attic. No light gleamed around the darkened door. But now she heard the whispers, her natural Geiger counter on, soft voices chattering fiercely, overlapping so she couldn’t make out their messages. By the way the white noise strengthened, she knew she was drawing near.
Something must have shown in her expression, because Sam leaned close. “You OK?”
“It’s up there,” she said. Waiting.
“You hear something?”
She shook her head. “Just whispers. Lots of them.”
“No wraiths?”
“If they’re there, they’re staying quiet.”
“Stay behind us.”
Tightening her grip, she glared. “I’m the one it wants.”
“Maybe so, but all the more reason you need to stay safe.”
Cait gave him a small, tight smile and nodded her agreement.
Sam ducked down, kissed her cheek, and then gestured to Jason before walking sideways up the rickety stairs. At the top, he took a deep breath, reached out, and turned the knob.
The door flew open, banging against the wall inside.
Sam shot through the door and out of sight. Jason rushed in behind him.
Unwilling to wait for the all clear, Cait ran up the steps and peeked around the doorframe. More movable mirrors—sheets of plastic—cordoned off sections of the large, airy attic.
The windows here were covered as well, although the paper was torn in several places, letting in the early morning light. It was just enough to turn the plastic milky white, but not enough to allow her to see beyond it to anything that might be hiding.
Cait’s heart thudded dully. Her palms grew moist. She tightened her hold on her bundle but kept the men in sight as they ducked behind sheets to peer into the shadows, returning with shakes of their heads to indicate they’d found nothing.
And then, near the back of the attic, where a brick chimney stood in the center of the floor, she saw movement. A pale shadow, the shape of a man slipping quickly away.
Cait tapped the floor softly with a foot, drawing the men’s attention, then pointed to where she’d seen the movement.
Sam pressed a finger to his lips for silence and then lifted a plastic sheet and ducked inside. His footsteps were soft, and then he pounded away. “Halt!” his voice rang out loudly.
Silence gone, Jason charged through the plastic. “Behind you, man!”
Cait clutched her wrapped bundle and followed.
When the thick sheet fell behind her, she drew up, glancing around at the small enclosure. Cardboard boxes were stacked floor to ceiling. To one side stood a large, antique glass mirror, the kind a Victorian lady might have used to check her appearance. In the mirror’s reflection, she caught a movement, a face peering back at her before it ducked out of sight, and on reflex, she spun, but no one was there.
Eyes widening, she turned back to the glass and realized whatever it was hid inside.
Heart thudding, Cait went to her knees beside the mirror, gripping the frame and glancing frantically around the edges. She saw the same cardboard boxes, the taped-up windows, but in one corner she saw three figures wrapped in linen strips, like cocoons leaning against the wall.
“Sam?” she whispered. A moment later she heard his steps draw close.
His hand touched her shoulder. “I see them. How the fuck—?”
“I have to go in.”
His fingers bit into her shoulder. “No fucking way.”
Sparing a glance behind her, she scowled. “They’re trapped.”
His frown was just as fierce. “So would you be.”
She supposed she should be flattered that he didn’t doubt she could enter the mirror. “I won’t be trapped,” she whispered, more to calm herself than reassure him. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the glass. Her hand met the cool surface. Drawing a deep breath, she imagined the mirror was a pond. The cool glass became liquid, somehow not spilling from the frame, and she pushed her hand through.
Sam grabbed her arm and pulled it from the mirror. “Jesus, Cait,” he said softly, his breath catching.
She arched an eyebrow.
“I’m not freaked out by this. So you can reach inside.” He shrugged. “But he might be in there.”
Locking glances, she pushed his hand off her shoulder. “He is. I saw him. He’s waiting for me.”
With a quick push, she came to her feet and passed the package to Sam. “Get this unwrapped. When I come back through, I’ll need it.”
Sam’s hands reached for her again, but she shook her head and gave him as confident a
smile as she could manage. “I’ll be back.” Then she lifted her foot, stepped over the ornate wooden frame, and entered the room in the mirror.
Chapter Twenty-One
On the other side of the glass, the space was cold enough to freeze her breath. And although Cait hated betraying her unease, she reached behind her and touched the mirror to assure herself she could escape, relaxing only fractionally when her fingertips sank into the glass.
Glancing behind her, she saw Sam on the other side, his mouth open as though shouting. And by the tight crimping of his mouth, he was cursing a blue streak.
She mouthed back, Just don’t break it, baby.
“Nice trick, that,” a familiar voice said from behind the mirror and beyond Sam’s vision.
Cait closed her eyes, her stomach plummeting to her toes before she stepped to the side and faced Leland Hughes. “Didn’t like you before,” she grated. “Hate your guts now.”
Leland laughed and extended his arms at his sides. He wore the familiar white shirt, tie tight against his bull neck. His suit jacket was smudged with dirt. “Nice suit, huh?”
Knowing he wasn’t referring to the threads, she gave him a narrowed glance. “It doesn’t belong to you.”
“Best to hide in plain sight. Donnelly was a little too obvious. Had me a little fun walkin’ in your lieutenant’s shoes. Things won’t go so well for your friends out there when detectives start following the clues I left.”
His smile widened—an expression that had her shuddering because it wasn’t one Leland ever wore.
“Yeah, things are lookin’ bad. I planted evidence in your LT’s office. Things that’ll point at your boyfriends out there. Not gonna go well for them when the girls’ bodies show up. Unless…”
“You wanna make me a deal?” she asked, her tone flat.
“Isn’t that the way this is supposed to work?”
“Didn’t turn out so good for you with Morin.”
Leland’s smirk turned into a lethal scowl. “Morin was a lovesick fool. Wanted something never meant for him.” He shook his finger at Cait. “But you’re different. You’re smart.”
Shattered Souls Page 20
