by Cate Dean
“Of course, Brother.” She waited until he left, and turned to us. “Forgive his rudeness. He was assigned to the Center as a punishment. His previous residence was one of our archives, housed in a large home in the desert.”
“More like a mansion,” Bran muttered. I glanced at him and raised my eyebrows. He grinned. “I call them like I see them, sweetheart.”
Detective Phillips cleared his throat, shaking his head at Bran. “Let me make formal introductions. Eliza Grant, this is Reese Pierpoint, and Bran Malcolm. He’s a private investigator, and has helped me on a number of cases similar to yours. If you can show us to the vault, Eliza. I’ll need you to stay outside, until after the crime scene unit leaves.”
“I—of course. I have already been in there, to inventory. I closed it to ensure that none of the residents wandered in.”
“We’ll get your fingerprints, so we can mark yours off the list.”
“Thank you, Detective, for your patience, and for respecting our sanctuary.”
Eliza laid her hand on an almost invisible pad, and part of the wall slid open. I looked at Bran, and he nodded. Whoever did this had been given information from the inside.
A tall, black steel door stood out against the pristine white. Eliza tapped several sets of numbers into the keypad, and a quiet click was the only indication of the door unlocking. She turned the stainless steel wheel, and pulled the door open.
Thankfully, light filled the vault, flickering on just after the door opened. I smothered a gasp after I stepped inside. The contents of the vault looked like they belonged in a museum. Bran stepped past me and crouched in front of a pile of stone.
“Shit.” His hand hovered over what I saw now was part of a cross. “The bastard destroyed the West High Cross of St. Mary. I was there when—ˮ he cut himself off and stood, so angry his hand shook.
I let him and Detective Phillips walk around the vault, waiting near the entrance. The longer I stood here, the more aware I was of the energy left behind by the thief. If they took much longer, I’d have to leave, before—
I made the mistake of grabbing the steel doorframe. Images slammed into my mind and dropped me to the floor.
Anger, fear, desperation surrounded the tall, thin figure as they rifled through the treasures, looking for the specific items they were sent to retrieve. Dressed in black from head to toe, and wearing what looked like a Mardi Gras mask, I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman—but I could feel the power that surrounded them. The power of a Fae.
Smaller crosses went in a backpack they carried over one shoulder. The others were methodically destroyed. I heard myself gasping every time one of them hit the floor, but the thief felt nothing as they demolished centuries’ old treasures.
I watched them consult a small list, nod, and tuck it in the backpack before they walked past me, and disappeared.
“—hear me, Reese?” Bran’s voice filtered in, like a tiny beam of light in the darkness that threatened to swallow me. I tried to break free, terrified. “Come back now, sweetheart. Feel my hand, follow my energy. I’m right here.”
Bran—
The dark gripped me, and I felt like I was losing control. I focused on that small light, knowing it was Bran. I could feel the warmth of his laughter, the strength of his hand. His hand—
I tried to move my hand, and fingers tightened around mine. “That’s it. You’re still here, Reese. Just open your eyes, let go of the vision. Let go, Reese.”
His voice pierced through the darkness, and with a gasp I bolted out of the darkness, right into his chest.
“God,” I whispered. “It wouldn’t let me go.”
“Tell me.” He rubbed my back, his touch helping me ground myself.
“I felt sucked in, from the second I touched the doorframe. I think the thief set a trap for me.” I whispered against his ear. “It was a Fae.”
He jerked against me. “You’re sure?”
I leaned back. “I saw.”
He nodded, and I knew I’d said enough. With Eliza hovering, I didn’t dare elaborate.
“Is she all right?” Eliza crouched next to me. “I saw you collapse, and I went to find Detective Phillips and Mr. Malcolm. You were so pale, but your eyes were open, and you were mumbling, so I knew you had not fainted.”
“Thanks. You did the right thing.”
“You See, don’t you?” I blinked at her, not completely surprised by her observation. “That’s why you’re here.”
“Something like that.” I ignored Bran’s frown, and held my hand out to Eliza. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Who knows about this vault?”
She looked surprised. “Myself, Brother Natalan, and the elders. Oh,” she pressed one hand against her chest. “There was a repairman, who spent quite a bit of time here, after the keypad failed.”
Detective Phillips took over. “How long ago?”
“Last week. You don’t think—ˮ
“Do you have his card?”
“Yes.” She pushed to her feet. “I will get it for you.”
I waited until she was out of sight, and I kept my voice low, in case it traveled. “The thief was Fae, Detective.”
He sighed, and ran one hand through his blonde hair. “I was afraid of that.” He turned to Bran. “Why these icons?”
“They’re tied to the homeland, which gives them a unique power. Centuries of prayers and offerings from true believers enhanced that power. Shit.” He rubbed his forehead. “I think I know why Torlogh wants them.”
Detective Phillips crossed his arms. “I’m guessing it’s not good.”
Bran look at me before he answered. “He’s trying to find a way to escape.”
Twelve
Bran helped Reese stand, wanting to pick her up in his arms and take her straight home. His home, where he could lock her up and keep her safe.
As if she’d let you.
Instead, he held her hand, twining their fingers together.
Nick joined them, pointing to the outside door. They could talk more freely out there.
Eliza met them halfway and handed a business card to Detective Phillips.
“Thanks,” he said, pocketing it. “We’ll be right outside. Looks like the crime scene unit is here. I’ll show them what’s what,” he said to Bran. “Then join you outside.”
“Got it.” Bran tugged at her hand and moved to the front door, waiting until they were outside before he pulled Reese into his arms. “God, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. She held on to him, and delayed reaction smacked him, hard and fast. “I didn’t have time to do anything after I touched the doorframe.”
“You couldn’t tell if it was male or female?”
“Not the way they were covered up.” She leaned back until she met his eyes. “They didn’t care about what they were destroying. It was like they were—ˮ
“Following orders.” She nodded, and Bran pulled her in again, needing to feel her against him, warm, whole, safe. The Fae knew she’d come, had set a trap for her. It almost worked. “Here comes Nick.”
He joined them, even less happy than when Bran and Reese left him. “They’re not finding anything—no hair, no fibers. Nothing. With all that destruction, there should be some trace.” Nick shook his head. “Elaborate on your cryptic statement.”
Bran freed Reese, but kept hold of her hand. He couldn’t quite let go of her.
“Torlogh was banished by the Queen, sent to a place that exists between realms. The kids that were killed—they were chosen for a reason. Their blood sacrifice allows Torlogh to draw enough power to open a portal. He did it after the third murder, right in Reese’s living room.”
Bran gave a quick summary, leaving out most of what happened on the other side of that portal. With a sigh, Nick rubbed his forehead.
“Do what you can to find this thief. Though I doubt they’ll ever see their stolen items again.” He turned to Reese and laid a hand o
n her shoulder. “Thanks, for doing what you do. I’m sorry for what happened—if I’d known there was any danger—ˮ
“It wasn’t your fault, Detective.” She patted his hand, the color coming back to her face. Bran’s fury eased, enough for him to start thinking straight again. “If you need my help again, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thanks, Reese. Get out of here—I’ll call you if I have any news.”
He walked back inside. Bran could sense his frustration, and knew that Nick probably blamed himself for his lack of progress. Once they were alone, he wrapped his arm around her waist and headed for his car.
She was out of this, for good. Whether she liked it or not.
Thirteen
I knew something was up when Bran started treating me like I couldn’t walk on my own.
“I’m going to drop you off at your store. I want you to head straight to The Wiche’s Broom and buy some items. I’ll make a list, and the owner, Claire Wiche, can help you.”
“And what exactly am I doing with all these items?” I had a feeling, but I wanted him to say it.
“Create a safe place, and stay there.”
“Like hell.” I pushed his arm away and stepped in front of him. He halted, so surprised he stumbled trying not to run into me. “I’m connected to this, and you know it.”
He grabbed my arms and jerked me forward, almost lifting me off my feet. “I won’t lose you, Reese. Do you understand me? I’ve lost enough to the self-righteous, entitled asshats living on the other side of the Veil. I won’t lose you to them—what?”
I couldn’t stop the smile that threatened. “Asshats?”
He let go of me and ran one hand through his already tousled hair. “That’s all you got out of what I said?” The smile he fought told me he wasn’t mad.
“I’ve never heard the Fae called that.”
“Because you don’t know them well enough.” He took my hand again and kept going. “Give it time.” We reached the car, and he cradled my cheek, all humor gone. “Please do this for me, Reese. Make your apartment a safe place for you, as much as you can.”
“Will anything I can buy stop Torlogh from opening another portal in my living room?”
Bran sighed, his shoulders slumping. I wished I hadn’t said anything. “Any barrier will slow him down.”
“Okay.” I stood on tiptoe and kissed him, wanting to ease the pain in his eyes. I knew he felt things more deeply, because of his demon. One of Mom’s stories had been about half-demons. Their human side was enhanced, because of the demon’s lack. “I’ll buy whatever I need.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around me and held on for a minute.
No man had ever expressed his feelings so openly, without embarrassment. I found that I liked it.
After he pressed a kiss to my temple, he let me go and opened the car door for me. That was another polite gesture I could get used to.
We drove back to my store in comfortable silence, the cool breeze off the ocean refreshing. It helped clear my head, and the ride gave me time to sort out my jumbled feelings.
I was also curious and nervous about going into The Wiche’s Broom. I’d heard—rumors, about the gorgeous owner. With my new look on things, I was about to learn if the rumors were true.
Bran pulled into a space at the end of the block, and kept the engine running. He pulled a small notepad out of the pocket of his bomber jacket and quickly jotted down a list. I scanned the piece of paper when he handed it to me. A long list.
“I really need all of these things?”
“As many as you can get. Tell Claire what you’re planning to do. She’ll understand, and guide you to the most effective items.”
“You know her.”
He studied me for a long second before he answered. “We have things in common.”
My heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest. “So, it’s true? She’s a—demon?”
Bran took my hand, his touch calming me. “Her story is far more complicated than that. She’s a witch first, Reese. You’ll see the demon, because you can. Claire is on the right side of the line. Remember that.”
I swallowed. “Okay.”
He leaned in, silver edging his grey eyes. “What do you see when you look at me?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “The man I’m falling hard for.”
He looked surprised, and pleased at the same time. “The man. Not the demon.”
“I get it. You don’t have to beat the dead horse.”
Bran smiled, kissing me hard and fast before he moved back to his side of the car. “Claire is going to like you. You’re a lot like her best friend, Annie. A witch,” he said, when I opened my mouth to ask. “And completely human. She works with Claire at the store.”
I nodded. Two days ago, I thought I was completely human.
“Will Claire be able to—will she—ˮ
“Yes.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t be afraid of who you are, Reese.” His left hand brushed over my bracelet, and my ring. To my shock, I saw the ring I had given him still on his left hand, middle finger. Just like mine. The swirling blue stones both glowed. “These cloak you from all but the most powerful Fae. Being half human makes it easier for you to hide.”
I touched the blonde streak. “This gives me away.”
“Not in Santa Luna.” He grinned. “You’re just a bohemian local here, with a flair for the dramatic.” He eyed my belly button skimming t-shirt. “A flair I thoroughly approve of.”
I laughed, warmth spreading through me. Bran’s admiration left me feeling beautiful—unlike the cat calls shouted from the basketball court next to the boardwalk. I was still smiling when he kissed me.
How could I fall so hard, so fast—and for a man who wasn’t completely human? But then, neither was I. We just fit, and it felt right. For now, I was going with that.
He traced the line of my cheek as he freed my lips. “Call me when you’re done,” he said, his voice deep, and a little rough.
“I will.” My own voice wasn’t all that smooth.
I got out of the car before another kiss turned into a show for the local store owners. Bran backed out, winking at me before he roared off, skidding around the corner and out of sight.
I stared after him, waiting for my heartbeat to slow. Once I felt close to normal, I headed for my store, and unlocked the door, staying inside long enough to put out the sign I used when I was going to be out of town.
In the dim light of my empty store, I prepared myself for what I had to do next.
I was about to meet Santa Luna’s resident demon.
~ ~ ~
The Wiche’s Broom is the kind of store that attracts all types of customers, from tourists, to locals, and actual witches. From what I heard from other locals, Claire stocked only the best, and offered items for both the curious and the serious practitioner.
I stopped to admire the window display. For summer, she had a colorful blanket spread out, with a picnic basket on its side, and everything from crystals to tarot cards spilling out of it. Two gorgeous crystal goblets, with silver dragons curling around the stems, sat next to the basket, along with a bottle of sparkling cider. The fun and inviting display made me want to go in and explore.
“Enough stalling, Reese.”
I took a deep, shaky breath, and pushed the door open.
A small bell rang over my head. I had hoped to kind of sneak in, take a look around, and prepare myself. So much for that idea.
“Good morning.” The low, welcoming voice came from the direction of the high counter. I turned, and recognized Claire Wiche immediately. “Welcome to The Wiche’s Broom.” She frowned, halting at the end of the counter. “I know you. Reese Pierpoint, owner of The Dragon’s Breath.” She studied me, the silver edging her blue eyes the only giveaway that she was a demon. I couldn’t see anything else, except a faint glow around her. A glow that wasn’t from her demon. “You’ve been touched.”
“Something like that.
”
“So, you know what I am.”
“You’re not the first demon I’ve met in the last couple of days. Bran Malcolm sent me here.”
“Ah, Bran.” A smile crossed her face, delight flashing in her unusual eyes. “I am going to assume he armed you with a list.” She moved forward, holding out one graceful hand. I saw the tattoo then, a beautiful gold triquetra, with vines wrapping her wrist—and an ugly scar cutting across the center of the triquetra. She noticed, and touched her wrist. “A souvenir, from an old adversary. Let me see the list, and we can get you sorted.”
She didn’t try to hide the scar, which I admired. I figured there was an interesting story behind that scar. Maybe one day I’d have enough courage to ask her.
I followed her through the long, narrow store, surprised by the scope of her inventory. She had everything on Bran’s list—and added a few more items to the wicker handle basket she carried.
I cleared my throat as she shuffled through a bowl of iridescent black rocks. “I guess I should tell you why I need all this.”
“There is no need, Reese.” Claire turned to me. “Unless you want to talk about it.”
“I—I’m not sure.”
“Are you thirsty?” She led me to a round table at the back of the store, covered in rich blue velvet. “Sit. I’ll get us some cold mint tea.”
I watched her step into the back room, and braced my elbows on the table, lowering my head to my hands. Lack of sleep was catching up to me, along with all the surprises that had been thrown at me the last couple of days.
A gentle hand closed over my shoulder—and for the first time, I felt Claire’s power.
“It can be overwhelming, to learn of your true nature.” I looked up at her. Sympathy and understanding warmed her eyes. “I have helped my share of witches who have come into their power late. If I can do anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks.” I meant it. Having someone close by who got it lightened some of the weight that had been pressing on me since I first touched the pendant.
