Honey House

by LAURA HARNER

  This morning I’d stood facing my closet, gathering my clothes and my wits, wondering how I could tell Quinn to go. Hell, I’d actually been mentally rehearsing the ‘this-can’t-happen-again’ speech and debating whether it might be more effective just to piss him off so he wouldn’t want to come back.

  As soon as I’d started thinking about lying to Quinn, the temperature in the room dropped, as though my thoughts were changing the very atmosphere in the House. Before I’d had time to process those thoughts, Quinn had found the note, had believed the worst of me. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

  By the time I’d gotten rid of Gregory, Quinn was gone and no one else had been about. I’d wanted to lie down, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important I needed to do first. Something the House wanted me to do. Disturbing.

  I rubbed my aching head. My eyes felt covered in sandpaper, my limbs heavy and awkward. Thoughts seemed to be dancing just out of my reach. I shook my head and gave my cheeks a little slap. I needed to clear this damn brain fog. Maybe if I made a list, I could remember the important things. I pulled the notepad over and dug out a pencil from the jumble in the desk drawer.

  Pencil in hand, I stared at the notepad. Something about it seemed so familiar. I looked carefully at the logo, a full moon, a saguaro cactus, and a coyote. It was a typical southwestern design, just some business give-away as advertising. I yawned so hard I swear my jaws creaked. Giving my head another shake, I tried to stay focused.

  Logo…I was looking at the logo. Why was it so damned familiar? There was no name, just the initials TWTW and a local phone number.

  The more I tried to figure out why the logo was familiar, the more elusive it became. My limbs felt heavy, weighted by possibilities, and I realized it was more than the lack of sleep that was bearing down upon me now. I’d felt this way before, on the ship, during those times when I glimpsed someone’s future. My mind and my body slowed, each beat of my heart marking time. I tried to put pencil to paper, but it felt as though I was moving through some viscous fluid.

  I blinked and when my eyes opened, I watched tiny dust motes float slowly across the beams of afternoon sunlight. They moved gracefully, performing an intricate dance, exquisitely detailed and purely for my enjoyment. I turned my head slowly and a small movement caught my eye. I watched the blinds stir ever so slightly in the gentle breeze, and then I watched the breeze itself. I could see the tendrils of air caress the room, cooling the heat of my skin.

  The palm in the corner of the room was leaning toward the western window. I watched in amazement as it moved in infinitesimal increments, reaching for the golden light. It leisurely opened its fronds, like eager fingers, seeking that which would make it complete.

  There. I recognized it immediately. That was the thought I’d been waiting for. It moved through my mind with deliberate slowness. The questions built inside me, pulsing, pounding, filling me. What is it that will make me complete? What is the essential part of me that is missing?

  Everything was still moving in slow motion, giving me plenty of time with each thought. Somehow, the events of the previous twenty-four hours had brought me closer to discovering the piece I hadn’t even known was missing.

  I’d been happy to be on my own, free from worry, no one depending on me for anything. Okay, maybe happy was a bit of an exaggeration, but at least I’d been content. Hadn’t I? I just wasn’t very good at building relationships and hadn’t felt the lack of them. I’d thought I’d been born this way; that my unconventional upbringing had failed to teach me to make important personal connections.

  All my life, I’d worn my detachment like a cloak, collar up, shoulders hunched. I’d been shielding myself against the harsh wind of loss, the chill of pain. Now I was willingly shedding that cloak, basking in the warmth of the Honey House, collecting people to care about. Since I’d been here I’d had more up close and personal moments for me than I’d ever had to process before. How had all these people come to matter to me?

  I hadn’t loved Jason. I hadn’t even liked him very much by the time he’d died. But he’d belonged to me because he‘d stayed at my House, come to us for shelter. He hadn’t deserved to have his life stolen. Gregory hadn’t stayed at the House, but he’d found blood here, seen death coming, even if he hadn’t recognized it. He’d become someone that mattered to me, to the House. It felt as if he was mine now, too, and by extension, so was Owen.

  Quinn. God, Quinn. It was as though he’d ridden me into submission, had lowered my defenses, taken me further than casual sex was supposed to. I didn’t love him; he wasn’t even my type of man. But he’d stayed with me, held me through the night, brought me out of my skin and laid me bare. He had stayed at the House last night and now, in some indefinable way, he was mine too.

  What was I? What magick was expected of me? There was a fierce protectiveness growing inside of me and I knew it was part of the answer. A sense of responsibility for those to whom I gave shelter, to those called by the House. There was a slow build to a white-hot fury over the fact that someone would dare hurt one of mine.

  I was surprised when I saw the muddy brown eyes staring patiently at me. Where did they come from? Where am I? A slow blink and I wasn’t in the library anymore.

  *

  I knew was dreaming or I thought I was. It was like watching a television show, and I was playing the role of someone else. An actor who could feel and see, but was powerless to stop the scene that was unfolding. I was on the trail that passed behind the Honey House, and I was running. I was afraid, Christ, so very afraid. Thoughts rolled through my mind…not my thoughts, but still, they were in my head. If I could only reach the door, if only KC could hear me. Someone hear me, please. I don’t want to die. I didn’t mean to find out. No one will believe me anyway. Full moon. Supposed to be full moon.

  Something hit me from behind, a force so powerful it knocked me off my feet. I flew through the air and landed on the trail. Can’t breathe. Move my feet, must move my feet. The next blow came, then the next. Hot blood spilled from somewhere. I was being torn apart, eaten alive. Can’t scream, can’t breathe, can’t—

  *

  I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. I wiped a shaky hand across my forehead and it came away glistening with sweat. I grabbed the notepad to write down what I remembered of the dream and it was as though everything shifted to slow motion again. The silence was suddenly upon me, a deafening absence of noise.

  I pulled the note pad closer and there was no sound as it slid across the desk, only the pounding of my own heartbeat echoing in my head. I knew I was supposed to see something. I looked carefully at the pad, and the top sheet had clear indentations from whoever had written on it last. I held the pad up and examined it in the light. I took the pencil and lightly rubbed it across the surface. I could read what had been there. Werewolves.

  The word had been scrawled across the top of the paper so hard the impression clearly showed through to the pages below. There were more words, much lighter, as if the writer hadn’t been as angry when he’d written the others. I recognized those fainter words. They were from Jason’s note to me.

  Sound came rushing back, and I could hear the birds outside, the wind rustling through the pinyon and juniper trees that surrounded the House. People were laughing somewhere, maybe the great room. Whatever had removed all noise from my world and put everything in slow motion had released its hold.

  I picked up my cell phone with a sense of inevitability and dialed the phone number imprinted on the notepad. TWTW. I knew who I was calling even before the rich, deep voice answered the phone.

  “The Way They Were Safaris. How may I help you?” he asked solicitously, pronouncing it “where.” As in werewolves.

  “May I help you?” he asked again.

  “Oh, sorry. I was wondering about a tour for tonight. I only need one ticket.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. The last tour leaves in a
few minutes and is booked solid. After that, we’re closed until Friday. We don’t take tours on the full moon or the two nights leading up to it. Too dangerous, you know.”

  He said it with just a hint of laughter in his voice, conspiratorially. As though we both knew he was teasing, but he needed to keep up the charade. I wasn’t so sure he was teasing, but if he was, it was a good gimmick to keep up the illusion.

  I used the same teasing note. “Please? Isn’t there anything I can do to convince you? Isn’t there a special price I could pay?”

  “No, it’s an absolute rule, ma’am. I can squeeze you in on Friday, if you only need one ticket and you don’t mind joining a family of five. Would you like me to hold the ticket for you?” he asked.

  I closed my eyes, let my mind flow, and reached for that place that sometimes told me things. The place that told me secrets about strangers. The man on the phone believed he was telling the truth. He wouldn’t sell me a ticket for tonight. Whatever was happening out there, this man at least believed that the next three nights would be dangerous.

  “Ma’am,” he prompted.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just looking at my calendar. I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay one more night. Are you sure? Could I look around during the day tomorrow, instead?”

  Warm laughter floated over the line. “I’m sure. Tonight’s booked, and we’re closed up tight for the next three days. I’m sorry it won’t work out this time. Maybe the next time you’re in the area. Just don’t make it a full moon. Have a nice day,” he said and ended the connection.

  I wasn’t so easily discouraged. I knew where I would be come this full moon.

  Jason had been one of mine. I would find out what happened.

  Chapter Nine

  I woke at my new usual time and greeted Aaron when he delivered the breakfast trays. Gabrielle was due in today, and I planned to take advantage of her presence to do a little shopping and a little snooping. It must have been purely coincidental that most of the items on my shopping list came from businesses that Jason had visited in his research.

  I heard the front door open and Quinn entered for his usual coffee and bagel. He was first on my “To Do” list for the day. So to speak. I blushed a little at the images that I conjured in my mind. I hadn’t meant it that way. Really.

  “Good morning, Quinn.”

  “Miss Carmichael,” he said without looking up from his newspaper.

  Hmm… I could stay formal. I tried again. “Sheriff, have you found anything out about Jason’s murder?” I asked.

  “No,” Quinn said and turned the page.

  He wasn’t going to make this easy. I refilled my coffee, but instead of returning to my usual table, I sat at Quinn’s. When his reluctant gaze met mine, I struggled to keep my breathing even. Looking into those eyes, watching his lips curve into a cruel imitation of a smile, I felt as if I had just put myself in the cage of a very hungry tiger. Instinctively, I reached out a hand and placed it on his arm, hoping to calm the angry beast that I sensed just below the surface. I pulled my hand back immediately, as though I’d received an electric shock.

  His smile was mocking. “A new game, Miss Carmichael? I confess I can’t see the purpose, but maybe it’s all the thrill of the hunt for you.”

  Stung, I fought the urge to strike back. And lost. “You know, I’m sure I didn’t leave that note from Jason lying open on my bureau. Did you deliberately seduce me so you could search my place without a warrant?” I asked snottily.

  Actually, this had bothered me a lot since yesterday. I had left the note on the bureau, but I was certain it had been closed, and addressed to me. Of course, I no longer had access to the note, since the sheriff had confiscated it as evidence. Just before he’d walked through the rest of my apartment looking for proof of my involvement in Jason’s murder. He’d claimed he’d found evidence of a crime while in my home on unrelated business. It was hard to say which of us had been more pissed at the time.

  I watched the flush creep up his neck. Seemed I’d just yanked the tiger’s tail.

  “Are you accusing me of abusing my office?” he asked, his voice very soft. “Need I remind you Miss Carmichael that it was you who seduced me? You who thought to distract me from my investigation?”

  With a deep breath, I fought to control my temper. After all, he had a point. I had kissed him first. Besides, arguing wouldn’t help. Time to change strategies. Growing up with con artists makes a girl light on her feet. I rapidly shuffled through my repertoire of characters. I immediately discarded the helpless female. Quinn would never buy it. He might, however, go for contrite.

  “Look, Sheriff— Quinn,” I tried again. “I didn’t mean to pick a fight. It’s been a very long couple of days. I’m sorry. I really am. I just need to know what happened.

  “Please…please, can you tell me if you have any news of Jason’s murder?”

  Quinn looked at me for a long time, his amazing eyes absolutely unreadable. I forced myself to endure his scrutiny without fidgeting.

  When his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, I figured he’d decided not to tell me anything. Then with a deep sigh, he started. “Jason returned to Juniper Springs early in the afternoon of the day you saw him. I know this because he stopped in at Cozy’s and had a piece of apple pie and waited for a call. As far as I can tell, he spent the rest of the afternoon in an interview with one or more unknown people at a private location.

  “I retrieved his cell phone records and he called half a dozen businesses in the local area, plus a number I can’t trace. It goes to a disposable phone. Assuming he brought them, his computer and cell phone were both missing from his room, but everything else seems to be accounted for. His brother is coming to claim his personal effects and take the body to back to Ohio.

  “I’m still waiting to hear from his editor to see if the paper will grant me access to the unpublished articles. There seems to be some question about whether or not they received the full articles or just the proposed outlines, and if it’s just notes and outlines, who actually owns the rights to the content, the family or the paper.

  “The medical examiner in Phoenix said that Jason died from exsanguination. In other words, he bled to death after massive wounds of unknown origin to his torso. Do you need more gory details than that Miss Carmichael? Because there are more.”

  It was a very long speech for Quinn and surprisingly detailed. I didn’t think I liked the idea that the notes or articles could still be floating around out there somewhere. Still, informative or not, I couldn’t let him get away with talking to me that way. I must have forgotten I was supposed to be contrite.

  I hardened my face. “You don’t know me very well if you think a little blood and gore would deter me. Maybe you should look a little deeper into my past. What else did they find, Sheriff?” I asked coldly.

  His left eyebrow rose, and he looked at me speculatively. With a nearly imperceptible shrug, he continued, “The forensic unit suspects that more than one weapon was used. He had numerous broken bones and they believe something hard and heavy was used to take him down. The weapon would have been heavier and with more surface than a baseball bat, but the deep tissue injuries are consistent with an impact injury. Not unlike what they see from a hit-and-run, except the area of damage was confined to his upper body. The second weapon cut away the evidence that would help us determine what brought him down.”

  “So, did more than one person kill Jason? Or one person with two weapons?” I asked.

  “I don’t think I like your interest in this, Miss Carmichael. You aren’t officially cleared as a suspect, although I don’t believe you’re capable of doing quite so much damage by yourself. You aren’t considering something as asinine as trying to investigate this murder yourself, are you?”

  The thoughts that had sprung so unexpectedly into my head yesterday turned into words that tumbled from my mouth. “Jason sought shelter at the Honey House and that makes him my responsibility. I’ll do whatever it takes to m
ake sure his killer is caught.”

  I stood to leave and Quinn grabbed my wrist. His grip was painfully tight. “If you fuck with this investigation, I will personally haul your ass to jail.”

  I leaned into the pain. I leaned in so close our faces were practically touching. I could feel his hot breath against my lips; I remembered the taste of that mouth on mine. Someone’s breath was loud in my ears, but I didn’t know if it was his or mine. We stayed like that a long time, our lips a hairsbreadth apart.

  While our tableau remained frozen, something inside of me began to change. It started as a bit of warmth behind my navel, like hot chocolate on a winter day, nothing more. The sensation of warmth began to grow, slowly flowing from my core outward, filling my limbs, heating me from the inside out. A distant buzzing like the sound of high voltage power lines sounded inside my head. My skin prickled, the hair rising from goose flesh, electricity snapping. I was changing, and I wasn’t afraid. I let the power fill me, and when I was full, I let it spill out over Quinn.

  “Fuck,” he said, and quickly let go of my wrist.

  ****

  “Susan,” Quinn said with a tip of his hat. Her face lit up at Quinn’s voice, until she looked up from her jewelry counter and saw the two of us standing there. Quinn had decreed I had to come with him to interview the witnesses rather than muck about on my own. I’d demurely agreed, which made him suspicious. It probably should have.

  Our first stop was Elegant Rocks, Susan’s upscale jewelry store right in the center of Main Street. Nothing but the best for our Susan, I thought wryly. She looked her usual elegant self, in a sleek black skirt and crisp white blouse. Her hair was in a short, blonde bob, not a strand out of place. She was tastefully decorated in silver and turquoise at her ears, throat, and wrists.