by N M Thorn
“There is something behind this door, alright,” muttered Damian. He rubbed his face tiredly and exhaled. “I wonder if your daughter knows what it is. You should ask her, I think. If she doesn’t know, she should be aware of the situation.”
“Do you think she is in danger now that we kicked that hornets' nest?” Sam approached the piece of plywood blocking the entrance into the left wing and moved his fingers over it as if trying to feel something on its surface.
Damian didn’t reply right away, his mind presenting the images of everything that had transpired from the moment Sam touched that door handle.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said at length. “What you saw back there was the response of some powerful protection magic. Wards and spells, you know? Even the rune inscribed on this piece of plywood is a part of the protective spell work.” He shrugged, brushing Gypsy’s fur absentmindedly. “There is something hidden behind that last door—something that could be extremely powerful, or dangerous, or both. And someone has gone the extra mile to make sure no one will find it.” He frowned, a deep crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of different protection spells in action, but never have I seen anything as powerful as this.”
“Over the years?” Sam chuckled humorlessly. “All thirty-five years of your immortal life?”
“Give or take a few centuries,” growled Damian, unimpressed with Sam’s persistent need to know more about him. “We should ask your daughter, Sam. Maybe she can shed some light on all this.”
“River is not touched by the World of Magic.” With a strenuous grunt, Sam lowered himself down next to Damian and stretched his legs, massaging his knee. “Even if there is some kind of terrible magical secret hidden within these walls, she won’t know.” He glanced at Damian and shrugged apologetically. “Besides, you know how people are. You can throw the strange and unexplainable into their faces, trying to prove the existence of magic, but all you’d get is a one-way ticket to the local psych ward.” He chuckled and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. “People prefer to look high and low for a so-called reasonable explanation than admit the existence of the supernatural.”
“How is it possible that the daughter of a hunter is not exposed to the World of Magic?”
Sam shrugged. “I made sure of it,” he replied. “After her mother passed away, I did everything I could to keep her... you know... normal? To give her a normal childhood.”
“Was that how you became a hunter?” asked Damian. “Your wife’s death was not...” His voice trailed off as he realized how intrusive his question was. He cleared his throat and added quietly, “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have asked that...”
“Don’t worry, kid. Unlike you, I don’t mind answering your questions,” replied Sam, tones of sarcasm coloring his voice. “Rosa died in childbirth, leaving me alone with a baby.” He stopped talking, and his gaze became distant and foggy, as if he were reliving his wife’s last moments. “Rosa was touched by the World of Magic. She was a witch who could wield winds. A good witch.” A soft smile appeared on his face, and his eyes lit up with the love and affection he’d kept through the years, even after his wife was gone. “She exposed me to the supernatural. Well, you know how it is”—he tapped Damian on his knee—“once you’re exposed, there is no way back. I didn’t want it for River. So, I kept her safe, away from all this magic-bullshit.”
“Rosa Vetrov... It means a wind rose in Russian, doesn’t it? How appropriate... She was a Child of Air?” asked Damian, his eyebrows rising. “You know how extremely rare that is?”
“All Children of the Elements are rare as far as I know,” objected Sam quietly. “But, no, she wasn’t. She was a powerful witch, and the air magic was her strength. And you’re right about the name.” Twinkles of humor appeared in his eyes. “She used to joke that my last name put her true nature on display.” He turned his head, observing Damian with curiosity. “I didn’t know you spoke Russian.”
“I speak a few languages,” replied Damian and switched the subject. “So, if River knows nothing about magic and this house’s secrets, who would know then? Her late husband’s family, perhaps?”
“They’re all dead,” said Sam, staring at the silver mirror. “Nick was the last of his family. Now, he is dead, too, so we have no one to ask.”
“I’m sorry,” said Damian, feeling Gypsy shifting in his lap to get closer to him, the heat of her body touching his skin through the thin shirt. He scratched her head between her ears, listening to her loud, even purr.
“Slightly lower, please,” purred Gypsy, stretching her paws. “Yes, that’s right... Who’s a good boy?”
“Is there any documentation left about his family and their estate?” asked Damian, ignoring the cat. “Anything that could help us learn what’s going on here? I think it would be a good idea to know what it is since River lives here alone.”
“Yeah, I agree,” replied Sam. “I’ll dig around. River may know some of their family’s history, so I’ll try to ask her, too. Myself, I didn’t like Nick’s parents much. They didn’t appreciate the idea of their precious son marrying into a simple family and considered their marriage a misalliance. Rich, arrogant assholes—” He grunted, cutting himself off, and then added, “I shouldn’t be speaking ill of the dead.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, after Nick and River got married, his parents moved to their other home in Fountain Hills, and then shortly after, they both died. On the same day.”
“On the same day?” Damian repeated in disbelief. “And you as a hunter didn’t find it suspicious?”
Sam smirked, regarding him with reproach. “Of course, I did. But just like the local authorities, I didn’t discover anything suspicious. A car accident—tragic but absolutely normal. Some drunk asshole driving an industrial van ran the red light and smashed into their sedan. Their car was totaled, compressed into a ball of metal. They had to use a blowtorch to cut through it just to get the bodies out.”
“Uh-huh,” murmured Damian, but after his run-in with the wards in this house, he wasn’t convinced that this accident wasn’t staged by something or someone supernatural. “And Nick? How did he die?”
“Suicide.” Sam got up with a strained groan and brushed his hands over his pants, shaking off some dust. “Right here, in this house.” He fell silent, staring at his feet. “River found him... She’s still...” His voice shook, and bitter wrinkles materialized around his tightly pressed mouth. He swallowed, rubbing his forehead. “She doesn’t believe Nick took his own life, even though the investigation and the autopsy report confirmed the suicide, she’s still searching...”
Damian nodded and got up, too. Everything Sam had told him about Nick’s family didn’t feel right. “Sam, is there a library in this town?”
“Of course. Downtown,” replied Sam, but this time refrained from questions. “You can walk there, if you don’t want to rent a car, that is.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a vibe of discomfort lingering over him. “Listen, Damian, can I ask you a favor?”
“What can I do for you, sir?” He lowered the cat to the floor, and she waved her tail, showing her utter displeasure.
“I don’t want River to know about all this”—he pointed at the left wing of the house—“magical stuff. I’ll come up with some kind of excuse why we can’t finish the reconstruction right now. However, I’m worried about leaving her alone in this house. During the day, she’s at work, coming home late, but at night she’s here absolutely alone. Do you mind taking a few night shifts, guarding the house? Inconspicuously? I would do it myself, but I’m afraid it’s above my pay grade...” He chuckled mirthlessly.
“I can do it,” replied Damian. “But just like any human, I need food and sleep. So, I won’t be able to help you in the shop during the day if I’m awake the entire night.”
“I understand, son. I didn’t expect you to work twenty-four-seven.” Sam patted him on his shoulder, looking up at him, humorous twinkles back i
n his eyes. “Just for the first—um, let’s say—five days to begin with? If everything is fine after that, we can return to our original agreement. And I will pay you for this week, of course. Just make sure she doesn’t see you hanging around the property.”
“No problem, sir,” replied Damian, wondering if he could spend five nights awake and then still have enough energy to hit the library.
Before leaving, Damian bent down and petted Gypsy, eliciting a long stretch and a loud purr out of her.
“You take care of your mommy, Gypsy,” he said to the cat with a wink.
“He is talking to that damn cat again,” muttered Sam, bewildered.
“Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you? She’s not my mother, you Sasquatch. She’s a human, and I’m a cat—a superior species. Besides, it’s a physical impossibility,” announced Gypsy, narrowing her green eyes. “But for whatever reason, I still like you. I think I’ll ask my mistress to adopt you.”
Chapter 5
~ Damian Blake ~
The same evening, Damian returned to Paradise Manor. First, he circled around the fence to make sure he could get in unnoticed. As expected, the house was stuffed with state-of-the-art security equipment, so getting onto the property without triggering an alarm was practically impossible.
So much for me not using any magic. Cursing under his breath, he cast a cloaking spell over himself, praying to all the gods he knew that the security equipment didn’t include heat detectors. While even the simplest cloaking spell could hide him from cameras, they were absolutely ineffective against heat detectors and pressure sensors of modern security systems.
Damian vaulted over the fence and landed soundlessly on the other side. Stepping softly on the paved driveway, he moved toward the house. However, as he came closer, he halted and stepped away from the driveway into the shadow of the building.
River and her partner Jesse stood by the entrance, discussing something animatedly. Even though Damian kept his cloaking spell, which made him invisible to the human eye, he didn’t want to take any chance of something going wrong. Remaining in the shadow of the house, he came closer to the entrance. As a few words of their conversation reached his ears, his initial reaction was to step away, not willing to eavesdrop. However, something Jesse said caught his attention, and he stilled, listening.
“...I’m worried, River,” her partner said, leaning toward her slightly. “With Nick gone, you’re all alone in this giant, empty house.”
River smiled, a tired but friendly smile lighting up her face. “Thank you, Jesse, but I’ll be all right on my own.” She glanced at the house over her shoulder, and sadness settled back in her light eyes. “Nick left this house to me, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Jesse threw his hands up. There was something so desperate in this gesture that it set a few red flags in Damian’s mind. A shadow of fear crossed Jesse’s features but disappeared almost immediately. He took a deep breath and reached forward, brushing River’s shoulder gently.
“Nick was my best friend and my partner of many years. Of course, I understand,” he said softly, his deep voice calm and sympathetic. “Listen, if you don’t want to move out, maybe I can move in instead. There are so many empty rooms in this house, we can live there for weeks without crossing each other’s path.” He smiled, his straight, white teeth prominent against his almond skin. “I promise, I’ll stay out of your way. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
Jesse’s voice wavered, modulating slightly higher, and that small change in the way he sounded sent chills down Damian’s spine. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
River took a step closer and hugged him, giving him a quick peck on his cheek. He hugged her and closed his eyes, visibly enjoying the moment, and as she drew back, he held her hand in his.
“Thank you, Jesse. You’re the best partner and friend I could wish for.” She pulled her hand out of his grip and shrugged, taking another step back. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine. And if I need your help, I have you on speed dial. Go home, Jesse. I’m tired, and we have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Apparently, that crazy entrepreneur is not going to find himself.”
She smirked and waved goodbye. Without waiting for his response, River turned around and walked inside the house, the metallic click announcing that she locked the door.
For a few seconds, Jesse stood, staring at the locked door, but then threw his hands up and headed back to the gates, muttering something incoherent under this breath. Damian waited until he was gone and walked out onto the driveway. Still keeping his cloaking spell up, he circled the property, carefully surveying every corner, but since he didn’t find anything suspicious of either the mundane or supernatural variety, he returned to the main entrance.
Carefully checking the positions of the security cameras, he found a blind spot by the left wing of the house and settled there in the shadow of the building, releasing his magic. The rest of the night, Damian spent listening to the sounds of night birds screeching over the desert and crickets leading their never-ending concert. He didn’t notice any disturbances in the magical energy field around the house, and once the first pink rays of the rising sun touched the purple rock formation in the distance, he got up and cast the cloaking spell over himself again.
Throwing one more glance at the house, he headed toward the gates. While the night had passed uneventfully, the conversation between Jesse and River left him with an unpleasant feeling. It could have been something as simple as a man trying to get in the good graces of the woman he liked. But Damian knew better. When the World of Magic was involved, nothing was ever simple, and things were never what they appeared to be.
River was the widow of Jesse’s late partner and according to him—his best friend. Even if he had feelings for her while her husband had still been alive, most likely he had enough decency not to act upon those feelings.
What had changed now? If he was a decent man before, he wouldn’t make a move at his friend’s grieving widow only three months after his death? Or would he?
Another item to add to the growing list of mysteries surrounding River Rose Evans and Paradise Manor. Damian sighed and vaulted over the fence, noticing that this time it took a lot more effort.
As soon as he returned to his hotel room, he set up an alarm clock for ten in the morning. Since it was five-thirty, he hoped that four and a half hours of uninterrupted sleep would be enough for him to get some rest. He collapsed on his bed without taking the cover off and was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
When the alarm rang, he sat up and rubbed his chin with his hand, wondering if he should forget about going to the library today. Nevertheless, the events of the last twenty-four hours left him with a sense of unease. Despite Sam’s nosiness, he liked the old hunter and didn’t want to leave him to deal with something he was obviously not equipped to handle.
He took a quick shower and grabbed breakfast in the small restaurant across the road from the hotel. An hour later, he approached the Blue Creek City Library. It was small, but to his surprise, the building was as modern as they come, and since it was located at the very edge of downtown, it didn’t stand out as much as it would if it were in the middle of the “Old West” district.
The sun was blasting mercilessly from the unblemished blue sky, and the temperature outside topped a hundred degrees. Even though his connection with the elemental energy of Earth protected him from sunburns, a half-hour of a brisk walk in the Arizona dry heat had taken its toll. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his dark hair plastered over his forehead. Damian crossed the parking lot and stopped in front of the door, enjoying the touch of the fine mist coming out of the misting system to his overheated skin.
As he walked through the wide glass doors into the building, the difference in temperature was jarring. He took a deep breath and headed toward the counter. A young man sat behind it, immersed in a book he was reading. When Damian knocked on the counter to at
tract his attention, he gave a start and dropped the book. His large blue eyes traveled up, his lips parting a little.
“How can I help you, sir?” he asked, raking his fingers through the mop of his dark hair awkwardly.
While he wasn’t male-model material, his friendly and slightly shy smile lit up his face, turning his eyes into two narrow arches, setting off his high cheekbones.
Damian couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m new to Blue Creek, and I wanted to learn a little about the town’s history,” he said.
“Are you a member of our library?” asked the young man, but then chuckled apologetically. “Sorry, you just said you’re new here.” He grabbed a blank form and a pen and placed them on the counter. “Please fill out the application, and I’ll need your picture ID.”
Damian gave him his driver’s license and quickly filled out the form. A few minutes later, he received a brand-new plastic library card and his ID.
“Well, Mr. Blake,” said the man, his shy smile gracing his face again, “what kind of historical information are you looking for?”
“I haven’t rented an apartment yet,” started Damian from afar. “In the meantime, I am staying in the Night Owl Hotel. A few minutes of walk north, there is a beautiful old house. Paradise Manor, I believe. I was wondering if you have any information about the history of this building and the family who owns it.”
“Oh, Paradise Manor,” mused the young man, his face lighting up with excitement. “Good choice, Mr. Blake. This is the oldest and most mysterious building in the entire town.” He glanced around and leaned forward slightly. “Rumor has it—it’s haunted.”
“Haunted? Really?” Damian’s lips lifted at one corner into a lopsided smirk.
The young man narrowed his eyes, looking as if he were suppressing his laughter. “Aw, Mr. Blake, I see you don’t believe in the supernatural.”
