Cursed Sight

by T. G. Ayer

  “I can stay here.” He refused to meet my eyes, clearly not wanting me to see his need.

  “It’s better you don’t. In case his friends come looking for him.”

  “Do they have like...social networks or something?” Todd scrunched up his forehead in distaste, obviously disliking the thought the soul-sucking killers who had taken his father from him would dare to be social creatures with friends and families like normal people.

  “I don’t really know. I’ve only ever seen one of them at a time. And I never stopped to chat about the sociology of Wraiths.” I failed to educate him on the fact my association with Wraiths was wholly based on the method of dispatch. “I think it would be safer for you to be far away from this place for a while.”

  “Wraiths?” Todd let the word tumble over his tongue, testing it as he would the taste of a chocolate. “What are they?”

  “They are the darker branch of the Ethereals.” My response was automatic, as if it was expected he’d know what an Ethereal was. In a split second, I realized how vastly different our worlds were. But at this moment, those two worlds collided and now, however indirectly, I had the blood of his father on my hands. And I had to be the one to break it to him that the world he lived in was a second reality, and he’d just had about the worst introduction into this world.

  I had to give the kid some credit, though, he was no mouse. The strength of the man he would someday be flashed through his eyes. “Ethereals?” His eyebrows rose, curiosity peaked.

  “Creatures with the power to control the air and atmosphere. The Wraiths are Dark Ethereals. Beings who live in the blackness and the shadows, and feed off the evil energies they collect. They used to never need to come out into the open before.”

  “So what changed?” He stared at me with eyes as black as the Wraiths, only they sparkled with life and courage. At the moment, they swam with bitterness as he spoke. “What made them take my dad? He never did anything to anyone.”

  “Look, Todd, I can’t answer that question right now without speculating. And the last thing I want to do is give you the wrong answer. You deserve more than a half-baked guess.”

  I rose, skirted the body and tiptoed to the window.

  “Grab some things and let’s get going. I have a place I can take you. You’ll be safe there.” I looked over my shoulder at the boy standing forlornly at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the banister and gratitude on his face. The only person I knew who could help was Storm. He’d already taken a whole group of Walkers and Humans under his wing— a multi-species clan he called City Deep. I was pretty confident he’d know how to help Todd.

  I shooed him away, tapping my watch to remind him to be quick. Turning back to the window, I opened the drapes a tad, keeping an eye out in case the Wraith had been expecting company.

  Soon we made a hasty departure from the dark and lonely house on that dark and lonely street.

  And my heart ached for Todd and his initiation into adulthood.

  # End of SKIN DEEP Excerpt #

  READ

  The SkinWalker Series (A DarkWorld Series)

  Skin Deep

  Lost Soul

  Last Chance

  Blood Promise

  Scorched Fury

  Fate’s Edge

  Grave Debt

  Blood Magic - A SoulTracker 1 Sample Chapters

  Blood Magic Ch1

  Mel

  My phone buzzed and I grabbed it from the seat beside me, while keeping my eyes on the road. I swiped it open, gave it a quick glance and raised my eyebrows in surprise. Martin Cross. Desperate father in search of his missing child. Something I knew a lot about. I’d just taken his case, a stressed mechanic whose kid had disappeared into thin air months ago. A case I’d assumed would be pro bono considering he didn’t appear to me to have exceedingly deep pockets.

  He was confirming my payment had been deposited and I should see it reflected in the account tomorrow. For once, I was happy to have pegged someone so wrong.

  I threw the phone back on the seat and peeked at the rearview mirror. It never hurt to be cautious considering I’d pissed off enough paranormal criminals in my time, but no one was following me.

  I drove to the outskirts of town, wondering again why I bothered with these visits. I could hear Drake’s voice. “Why do you waste your time? The man probably doesn’t even know you’re there.”

  Drake Darvon was my best friend and my sparring partner. He was also a gargoyle. Real live blue-blooded in-the-flesh gargoyle. Drake didn’t realize I went because I needed to. Because something deep inside me drew me to Samuel.

  I pulled up in front of the house, a part of me refusing to enter the grand old house, the other part wanting to rush in there and take Samuel away from it all. To take him away and fix him and make him whole again. It still felt like my fault, even though everyone, including Samuel himself, insisted it wasn’t. But if I hadn’t been so persistent, if I hadn’t wanted to find my sister Arianne so badly and finally bring her body home for some closure, maybe Samuel would still be whole. Maybe he would still be around to guide me.

  Not that I needed his training anymore, though. Samuel Fontaine had once been the Master Teleporter. There was only one person who exceeded him in his ability to cross the Veils and enter the Other worlds. And that was me. A secret only Samuel and I knew.

  Both Omega and Sentinel could never be privy to that piece of information. Samuel contracted to both organizations so he was allowed on occasion to do his own search and rescue jobs. My friend Storm, benevolent caretaker of young people in need that he was, had arranged for Samuel to train me, to help perfect my teleportation, thus putting in motion a friendship of a lifetime.

  But Samuel couldn’t be hoodwinked. He’d forced me to admit my front as a simple teleporter was a sham. He’d seen beyond that facade, to my ability to astral project. Then he’d taken it upon himself to train me to teleport better. How to teleport better, faster, smarter.

  And how to astral project with more accuracy, to feel for wards, to move faster. And to this day he was the only one who knew exactly how powerful I was. How far I could jump, how strong my self-protection had become, that I’d learned to move through most magical wards.

  I rested my head on the steering wheel. Maybe I should just start the car and go home. Maybe Drake was right and coming here only made things worse for Samuel and for me. No. I punched the steering wheel, as if it was Drake arguing with me. I’d come this far. And Samuel deserved some company. I got out of the car, controlling the urge to slam the door shut. Fishing in my jacket pocket for my keys, I jogged to the porch, as if by walking any slower I would give myself the chance to change my mind.

  Beneath the elegant French columns, with their flaking paint, I hesitated only a moment before I slipped my key into the lock, the rest of the bunch jangling against each other as I moved. I was about to turn it when the giant oak door swung inward so hard I had to let go of my keys or go flying inside with them.

  Cassia stared at me, her honey-gold eyes as expressionless as she could make them. “Hello, Melisande.”

  “Hi, Cass.” The skin at her eyes tightened. She hated it when I shortened her name. But it didn’t matter. She pretty much hated everything I was and everything I stood for, all on account of the fact I ruined her life. I wasn’t in the mood for a stare down so I tugged my keys from the lock, and took special note of the dark glare Cassia gave them, as if I had no right to have them. I brushed past her and headed for the stairs.

  “He’s not taking visitors,” she said, her voice dripping ice as she pushed her tightly spiraled curls away from her face.

  I stopped, my foot on the first stair, my hand on a banister badly in need of staining, and glanced back at her. I smiled sweetly. “Well, good thing I’m not a visitor then, isn’t it?” I watched as blood rushed to her dusky cheeks. She smoothed her skirt down, tamping down her anger with the same action. I really shouldn’t bait her. She did take care of Samuel. But I could
care less if she left. I’d just hire someone else to look after him. I turned my back on her and left her to stew in her fury, taking the threadbare stairs two by two, knowing even Cassia would disapprove. Poor Cassia. Samuel’s niece hadn’t inherited his teleportation powers, and being born normal into an almost entirely magical family was a great burden to bear. The problem with Cassia was she bore it with vicious anger.

  Sighing, I pushed Samuel’s door open and walked silently to the table by the window. Today, he sat in his rocking chair beside the open bay windows. White gauze curtains billowed on a soft breeze and he seemed to gaze out at the trees but I knew he saw nothing of the view. My heart twisted for him.

  I drew a rickety chair close and sat beside him. “Hello, Samuel,” I said, taking his hand in mine. His skin was paper thin, the fingers bony, muscles weak and wiry. His hand twitched as I held it and I smiled. I knew he knew when I visited.

  Samuel Fontaine was not an old man. He was in his late thirties, not the age of a man who should be lingering in a rocking chair. I stared at his once handsome face, high cheekbones now jutting out too far, and gorgeous green eyes now faded to a pale luminous non-color.

  But sexy Samuel’s been gone a long, long time. Ever since his brain got scrambled doing a jump for me

  What a way to go. My fingers tightened on his and I had to force myself to remember his frailty. I began to pull away when his fingers gripped mine with an intensity I hadn’t felt in months. My heart stuttered as I stared at him, eyes wide.

  “Mel?” his voice rasped, as if he hadn’t used it in years.

  “Samuel? Yes, it’s me.” I nodded and smiled, tears threatening to overflow.

  He blinked, his expression slightly unfocused. Then he frowned. “Are you eating? You look skinny.”

  I snorted. “Don’t worry about me. It’s you we are concerned about. We need you back Sam-sam.” I leaned close and he placed a palm on my cheek. The curtains billowed into the room, white clouds surrounding us in this impossible dream.

  “I know, baby. But I’m not done yet,” he said, smiling. “The girl . . . She needs me.”

  My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

  A few seconds of silence crawled by as Samuel studied my face with far away pale green eyes. “Patience, Melisande. And don’t forget what I taught you,” he said softly, his voice fading. “Don’t forget . . .”

  “Samuel?” I called him, but I knew he was already gone and my heart ached for him.

  “He spoke to you?” Cassia’s voice rang out, so bitter and cold it dropped the temperature in the room by a few degrees. Maybe the woman was magical after all.

  “Yes.” I whispered, still holding on to his hand. He’d spoken. He was still there. And what had he meant? ‘I’m not done yet?’ What did that mean?

  “What did he say?” Her question broke through my thoughts, an angry tide breaking onto my happy, grateful shore.

  I looked up at Cassia and grinned. “He said I was skinny. And he told me not to forget what he’d taught me.” I didn’t see any reason to tell her the rest. I suspected she’d overheard the last of Samuel’s words so that’s just what I gave her.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Cassia snapped, her honey eyes flashing. “He hasn’t been lucid for months, and you waltz in and he just talks to you out of the blue and says don’t forget what he taught you?” She snorted, hands on her hips, eyes wide. “Who the hell do you think you are? You just come in here whenever you feel like, say whatever you want and then leave him to me? Who do you think looks after him? And he talks to you?” Her laugh was hoarse, underlined by a deep bitterness.

  I watched Cassia, her anger an almost palpable thing. She was struggling with her own burdens but all I wanted to do was to slap her as hard as I could across the face.

  “You know what? I’m a bit tired of your whining and moaning. I know you’ve had it tough but we all have our own bloody demons to deal with. As far as I’m concerned you can just suck it up.” The color drained from her skin and I was certain she wasn’t sure whether to be shocked, upset or angry. “Take Samuel for instance, he’s way worse off than you. Maybe someday we will have him back—from what he said today, I am hoping his condition is temporary and wherever he is he’s okay and he will come back. But until then we have to wait. So quit feeling sorry for yourself. If you feel this is all too much and looking after Samuel is a burden, then by all means leave. I’m sure we can find someone else to take care of him.”

  I’d never voiced my opinion to Cassia before. I’d always steered clear of her, left her to her anger. Now, in the face of my words and my own fury, she seemed startled, unsure of herself.

  “You can’t make me leave.” She lifted her chin.

  Really? After everything I said, that was all she got? “I’m not making you leave, Cassia. I’m just saying if you aren’t happy taking care of Samuel, we can find someone else.” I was careful to use the word ‘we’. A gentle reminder that my presence here was with the kind permission of Samuel’s extended family. Not that I needed their permission, but they had eased Cassia into accepting me in the house and I appreciated that.

  Now, I watched Samuel’s niece as she considered my words. She didn’t respond and for Cassia, being short of words was unusual. Then she turned abruptly on her heel and left the room.

  “Well, I suppose I got my answer, then,” I said to myself.

  Samuel chuckled and when I glanced at him, a little shocked, my heart sank with disappointment at the blank expression in his eyes. Then he tilted his head and stared out the window. Sighing, I got to my feet and kissed his cheek. Then walked out of the room and left him there alone again.

  As I drove, all I could think about were Samuel’s words.

  I’m not done yet. The girl . . . She needs me.

  Blood Magic Ch2

  Saleem

  I shifted in my seat. It felt like I was sitting on a rock rather than the supposedly comfortable seat in Chief Roger Murdoch’s office at the Chicago police station. I eyed Pete Fulbright who commandeered the seat beside me, his stomach making him look more like a whale every time he breathed.

  I didn’t like the guy I’d been assigned to. Didn’t appreciate his attitude toward his job or toward his investigations. But I was going to give Pete Fulbright the benefit of the doubt. And I supposed my own presence would do some good in allaying suspicions that Chief Murdoch wasn’t taking full responsibility for Fulbright’s investigation of a paranormal operative.

  Fulbright’s sudden aggressive interest in Melisande Morgan had caught the attention of the Supreme High Council, and because of their already established working relationship with the CPD they’d asked Omega, instead of their own investigative unit Sentinel, to look into it.

  Omega and Sentinel, both powerful paranormal agencies, were interested in a rash of paranormal disappearances in the last six months, something that seemed to also have caught Fulbright’s attention.

  “So, I trust you will ensure Saleem here has full access to all our Missing Person’s files?” Chief Murdoch said as he rose from his seat.

  Fulbright reddened as he stood, his back ramrod straight. “Of course, Chief.”

  After he stalked out of the office and shut the door with a click, I turned to Murdoch. “I don’t need those files you know?” Chances were Omega’s files on the disappearances were much more substantial than what Fulbright could come up with.

  Murdoch smiled from beneath his mustache. “Of course I know that. It’s just better that Fulbright doesn’t.” The Chief sat, his massive frame threatening to crush his creaking chair.

  “So what has he been up to?” I glanced through the window at the warren of desks. Fulbright stood at one of them, flipping through a stack of files while repeatedly glancing at Murdoch’s glassed-in office. Fulbright’s stomach rose from mid-chest and hung low on his hips, so low over his waistband the man needed suspenders to hold his pants up. Not that body image bothered the detective at all.
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  “Investigating all of Mel’s cases but especially focusing on the abductions and deaths involving paranormals. I don’t know how, but he’s managed to hone in on the paranormal cases too well for my comfort. Ask him yourself. He doesn’t mind sharing his suspicions.”

  I nodded and left the Chief’s office, heading to the two desks that sat facing each other. A floor to ceiling window looked out onto traffic and block after block of aging high-rises.

  I sat and the sound of the chair brought Fulbright’s head swiveling toward me. Fulbright did not expect a conversation with me. In fact, he’d made it clear enough he didn’t have much respect for me or my presence. He’d barely glanced at me since he’d arrived.

  I knew what that meant. Race always played a big part in heightening emotions. But I didn’t care. It was bad enough my Persian descent was clear in my deep olive skin, dark hair and black eyes. As far as my appearance went, Fulbright had me pegged. But imagine if this normal human realized he had a bloody Djinn sitting next to him. A real, honest to goodness genie. He’d be off searching for a lamp so fast I would probably choke on his dust.

  Silencing a snort, I sneaked a glance at my partner. I shifted in my seat again. Time to find out a little more of what made the whole Fulbright-Morgan relationship tick. “So what’s the deal with you and Mel Morgan anyway?” I asked, pasting on the innocent rookie face I’d practiced with my team-leader, Logan Westin, yesterday.

  Fulbright gave me an impatient glare as he stacked his files in a pile and pushed them aside. The detective took a deep breath, grunted. “Just something about her that doesn’t add up. Her ability to find people when we can’t is strangely coincidental. Most of the cases we close out as unsolved, end up in her lap. And she solves them. Finds the people, dead or alive.”