Shit. I paused as the realization sunk in. Siobhan was killed only that morning, despite it seeming like forever ago, and already another woman dead? Who the hell was this new body walking around carrying a hitchhiking killer?
Andrew’s head shook. “Nothing concrete turned up today. We’re expecting the coroner’s office to rule another suicide.”
“Ryan’s body?”
“We still need to wait for the full autopsy reports, but there shouldn’t be much there either. As I said this morning, it’ll probably be ruled as a heart attack or stroke.”
“The department’s sparing us a few additional resources,” Wilcox said. “This still isn’t an official case, but with Ryan’s death, it’s made a stronger argument for the investigation.”
“There was one thing different this time, Kiara,” Andrew said.
My gaze flew up in question, and Andrew nodded at Wilcox. A cell phone was placed on the table in front of me. Wilcox’s phone and it displayed a photo. The picture was a quick snap of a handwritten note. Eyes grew wide in horror as my mind registered the written words.
“A suicide note?” I asked. “She writes that she must die since the Fáithsine lives? What the hell does that mean? Did the other suicide notes mention the Fáithsine?”
“There were no previous notes, Kiara.” Andrew took the phone from my hands and gave it back to Wilcox. “That’s why this death is different. We believe the demon now has his eye on you as being the one he wants, and this note was a message. To you.”
“If the demon’s suspicious of me, why the hell does he continue killing innocent women?”
“We don’t know… unless this has turned into a game for him.” Andrew shot a quick glance at Wilcox before continuing. “He must have realized this morning—or suspected, at least—he was being hunted by you. That is the reason I believe he fled Ryan’s body. Back to anonymity with the game now in his favor. He’s no longer simply killing any woman who could be the Fáithsine, he’s taunting you.”
“Sick.”
“He’s a demon,” Wilcox muttered. “What do you expect?”
I bit back a retort and glanced at Tristan, who shook his head at me. Wilcox, no doubt, hadn’t intended to insult the two demons—or partial demon, in my case—inside the room, but my pissy mood wasn’t feeling so charitable at the moment.
“I think,” Andrew said, “we should call this a day. It’s late, and Kiara needs to go home.”
“Good idea,” Tristan agreed.
There would probably be a Do Not Enter sign posted on the vampire’s front door after this visit. I was learning the man preferred keeping his guest list limited to one when inviting people over. Years of solitude had made him one step away from becoming a hermit.
“Kiara?” Andrew glanced at my feet, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Why are you missing a lot of shoes lately?”
“Oh.” I looked down. “They’re on the roof. I took them off earlier, so I could kick Tristan’s ass.”
“Good reason. Based on the look of things, I say you did well.”
Tristan snorted and ambled back to his couch. I peeked at the cuts and bruises on the handsome vampire’s face and smiled. Not because I’d been in a fight. Not because I had honestly thought—wanted?—to kill the man earlier. Neither of those were things to feel proud of. But because I’d held my own against my mentor. A strong vampire who was a skilled fighter based on his moves and instructions. I, Kiara Abagail Blake, a novice who couldn’t pass any level of martial arts belt testing, even if I paid people off, had ended the fight with him pinned. Not me. Him.
Of course, I also realized the smiling was a bit premature due to not having taken inventory of my own injuries. My jaw throbbed, and my left cheek felt raw.
“I’m going up to grab my shoes and leave,” I said, looking at Andrew. There was more I thought I should say… something about helping to stop the murders. Figuring out who the demon now possessed. Except it sounded as if the demon would search me out before long if I hadn’t already found him. “How do you kill a demon?”
Silence.
“Because, obviously, Ryan died and the demon found a new body to inhabit without it affecting him.”
Wilcox and Andrew glanced at Tristan.
“This demon needs to die,” Wilcox said. “Before he spreads word about Kiara and it’s not only him hunting her down.”
“Is there a way?” Andrew asked.
Tristan slowly nodded. “Sort of, but…”
“What?”
“This is only a rumor… a legend, if you will. It’s said there were two knives forged in Hell at the beginning of creation. These knives have the power to send a demon into another dimension—one of torment and no escape.”
“So… not Hell?” I asked. “Because doesn’t that fit the description?”
“No, this is different. Any demon has the power to leave Hell. That is their home. No one can escape the dimension where this knife sends you. No one.”
“And that’s the best we can do, right?” Andrew asked. “You can’t kill a demon. But, then, if you think about it, no one ever truly dies. Not even humans as their spirits simply move on from Earth. You can only confine.”
“Yes.”
“How do we obtain it?”
“Luckily for us, more than three hundred years ago, one of the two knives was smuggled out of Hell and brought to Earth. Almost two hundred years ago, a woman who I used to know allegedly stole this knife from the smuggler. If the rumors are all true, I believe she still has it. Although her willingness to work with me…” Tristan lifted a shoulder in a helpless shrug. “There’s only one problem.”
“What?” I asked.
“The only demons with the ability to possess this knife are The Seven.” Tristan glanced at me. “You are demon, Kiara. I am demon. We cannot touch the weapon.”
“But humans?” Andrew asked.
Tristen nodded. “Humans, yes. The purpose of these knives is to control the rankings in Hell. Prevent a rebellion. Their creation by the deity demons to control the lesser demons.”
“Curious…” I said. “How did a demon smuggle it from Hell, then?”
“One didn’t.” Tristan quirked a brow. “It was done by a human.”
“A human?”
“A human spirit escaped the pits of Hell.”
Chapter 20
I flipped the pendant over in my hands. Staring at it. Not knowing what, exactly, I should do. A hindrance, Tristan had said. Something that blocked me from achieving my full potential. Had blocked. Did I even have them all? My powers, that was. Tristan seemed to think so, but my current trust level in the vamp was one step above a serial killer—one who terrorized children. Chopping them up into itty-bitty pieces and then scattering their parts across a cornfield. The child’s teddy bear mailed back to the grieving parents as a cruel and sick taunt. In other words, I had no desire to accept Tristan’s opinion.
Shoving the necklace into my purse, I put on my determined face. Eyes slightly narrowed with purpose. Mouth set in don’t mess with me flat. And I hurt like hell. The purple and green marring my lower jawline, along with the scratches and redness on one cheek, proved that Triston had gotten in some good licks of his own. And now soreness was an accomplice on my morning mission. Relief was found in the knowledge that if I felt pain, Tristan felt pain.
It was a house I sought on an early Tuesday morning. By the time I reached the large, wooden, front door, I was ready. Ready as in, I would hold my shit together. Because Wilcox had decided to escort me up to the roof the prior evening while I collected my pendant and shoes. Several times in the elevator his jaw had twitched as if he wished to say something, but never did. Then when it became clear that internally he was struggling with his macho I’m destined to protect her, and the girl’s a freak battle, I ditched his ass when his back was turned. May or may not have jammed the stairwell door shut on my way back down. He’d had his cell phone and could call for help.
&nb
sp; That had been last night, and now it was the start of a new day with all that optimistic crap of singing butterflies and sparkling rainbows. The knock I made at the door of the house was answered by a pudgy blond woman. Her hair appeared as if she’d stuck a finger into an electrical socket. My shock at her appearance made me forget all about flying insects.
“Oh good, you’ve arrived.” The woman stepped back from the entrance. “Do come… are you all right?”
“Got into a fight with a vampire.”
“Pesky things, those. Well, come on in. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I stepped inside the foyer and studied the strange woman. “I’m sorry, but my visit today wasn’t planned. I believe you may have mistaken me for someone else.”
“No, no. You’re Katherine’s niece, and you’ve come just as my mirror showed me you would.”
The woman was going all Snow White on me, with her playing the part of the Evil Queen. The door was shut behind me, preventing my escape. But if she offered me an apple, I was certain I could find a way out. Even if my exit was through a window.
“I’m here to see Aunt Kate,” I said.
“She’s in the kitchen, right that way to the back of the house.” The woman pointed.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Please make sure she doesn’t set the room on fire again.”
“Again?” I turned back to the woman, but she was already gone. I made my way through a couple of rooms and found my aunt standing over a boiling pot of water on top of a stove.
“What are you cooking?” I asked, entering the kitchen. “Why are you cooking?”
Aunt Kate’s idea of cooking was transferring delivery food into her own dishes from the plastic take-out containers they’d arrived in. Never in my entire life had I seen my aunt prepare an actual meal, and that was probably for the best. She’d managed to ruin even my Pop-Tarts when I was a kid.
“Kiara.” She beamed. “Ya came for a visit.”
“Have you given up plotting your escape?”
“Hmmm…” She turned back to her pot. “I guess there could be worse places to be held hostage. This will do.”
“What are you cooking?”
“A spell.”
“Wait—what?” I gaped at my aunt. “I thought you were kicked out of your coven?”
“I was. You don’t be needin’ a coven to cook a spell.”
“But you don’t cook.”
“And that’s why I was kicked out of my coven.”
Somewhere that made logical sense. I just wasn’t certain where.
“So, uh, what kind of spell are you making?” I asked.
“One for revenge.”
“For Phillip?”
“Who else?”
I eyed a jar of pickles sitting on the counter. “What do you make when cooking for revenge?”
“Pickle bread. I’m sending a basket of baked goods to Phillip’s office.”
“Oh… okay. What does this bread do?”
“Shrink stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Well, stuff like the part of a man you don’t be discussin’ in polite society.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “His dick.”
“Didn’t you just say we don’t discuss it?”
“There was no discussion involved. It was whispered. Whisperin’ is allowed.”
All right then. Footsteps approached carrying a heavy tread. A man entered the kitchen. One look at Aunt Kate standing at the stove and his eyes grew wide. Spinning on his heel, the man left. The tread of his retreating steps sounded quicker than when he’d arrived.
“What’s this about a fire?” I asked.
“Oh, don’t mind about that.”
“Okay.” I plopped down on a stool next to her. “Next question. Why are you boiling a pot of water if you’re making bread?”
Aunt Kate turned to me, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “Hot water to activate the yeast.”
“Hot water, not boiling water,” I said. “Use the tap water.”
“Then it’s to be used for kneedin’ the bread.”
“You don’t need water for that.”
“Ya sure?”
“Positive.” I reached over to the stove and switched off the burner. “Let’s not have another fire.”
“The first one wasn’t a big deal.” Aunt Kate wiped her hands on a dishcloth. “It was only a small fire… okay, perhaps a medium-sized one. So, what did you bring me?”
Her gaze was directed at the table in the breakfast nook, and I glanced back at the book I’d placed there. “Something we’ll discuss in a minute. First, another question.”
“And what might that be?”
“Can Damon spy on me?”
“He could, perhaps by scrying. Why do ya ask?” Aunt Kate walked toward the dining table and ran a hand across the leather-bound tome.
“I saw him in my mirror.”
She paused and turned back to me. “You saw him? In the mirror, ya saw him?”
“Yes.” I nodded, concerned by my aunt’s dumbfounded tone of voice.
“Let me think on this one,” Aunt Kate said. “He’s somehow using your own mirror as his medium. Perhaps we can create a spell to send negative vibrations back through the glass, disrupting the connection.”
“Not common?” I asked. “Damon staring at me through a mirror?”
“Scrying with his black mirror… yes, it’s common. Seeing a Warlock camped out in ya own mirror, no.” She picked up my book. “Celtic Mythology?”
“Anna’s book.”
“Who’s Anna?”
“A dead Irish woman who wanted me to have this.” I went to the table. “I’ve not yet had a chance to look at it, but I thought it might have more information about the prophecy.”
Aunt Kate took a seat and motioned for me to do the same. “A story. I love a good tale, now tell me all about this Anna woman.”
“Anna was from Ireland and living here for college,” I said. “I already told you that a demon is killing all women who could potentially fulfill the prophecy.”
“The Fáithsine. Didn’t your Detective Wilcox say that was the Old Irish word for it? Kiara, what’s wrong?”
I glanced away. Because my shit? It wasn’t holding together. “Nothing.”
“Then why are there tears in your eyes?”
“There aren’t,” I said, rubbing at my face.
“I have two eyes of me own to see that yours are filled with water, and I haven’t been cuttin’ an onion.”
The dam broke, and I grabbed for a napkin. “It’s stupid. We weren’t even really dating.”
“Did the detective do somethin’?”
“Yes—no. Not really… He simply feels that I’m an obligation to him. Nothing more, and I guess I wanted more.”
“Oh, no he doesn’t,” Aunt Kate said. “I’ve seen him look at ya, and that’s a man who’s very interested in a woman.”
“You didn’t watch him last night when he realized what all I’m capable of doing with this stupid curse of mine.”
“You’ll be tellin’ me about these powers in a moment, but first ya’ve got to get over this insecurity that the detective doesn’t care for you.”
“I’m a freak. I’m strange. I have non-human abilities.”
“And a strong, prideful man like Detective Wilcox is having difficulty comin’ to terms with that. Are ya really surprised?”
“So you agree I’m a freak?”
“Don’t be changing the subject on me, Kiara.”
My breath let out in a loud whoosh. “No, I don’t think he can come to terms with it. Ever. Which is probably for the best.”
“Now why do ya say that?”
“We clash too much. I’ll always do something that irritates him. He’ll do something that pisses me off. It wouldn’t be a healthy relationship. I need a man who’s laid back and doesn’t go off the deep end every time he sees me doing anything he deems dangerous. Someone who’s patient and no
t overly possessive.”
“And then ya’d be miserable. You know I love ya, Kiara, but I have to be honest now. You’re too damn spirited to fall for a lesser man. A man who wasn’t as willful and determined would have you bored in ten minutes flat. Like that boy you dated in college. What was his name? Nate…”
“Mate.” I sniffled.
“What kind of name is that?” Her head shook. “He followed you around like a little lost puppy. Ya had him whipped, and you weren’t happy.”
“I was happy—”
“You were not. Don’t be lyin’ to me now, young one. When he decided to transfer out of state, ya’d already had a date with a new fella scheduled for the day after he left. To me that don’t be soundin’ like someone sad to see her beau leaving.”
“Did you really use the words beau and fella?” A grin tugged at my lips, despite my tears. “How did you even know about that? The date, I mean?”
“Someone had to be keepin’ an eye out on you. Ya’ve always been too much of a handful for your mother, I guess even in this reality.”
The altered existence—nightmare—we were currently living had been explained to Aunt Kate. She’d taken the news with a shrug of what can you do? Her response a simple, “It don’t matter what anyone does, you’ll always be my girl, Kiara.”
My doting aunt turned to me with a stubborn slant to her jaw. “You need Detective Wilcox, and he be needin’ you.”
I snorted.
“Ya don’t believe me now, but trust me, my girl.” Aunt Kate reached out a hand and tilted my chin up with a finger. “You both have some issues to work out, but once you’re on the same page, nothing will tear the two of ya apart.”
My doubts were strong, but I was wise to not vocalize them while Aunt Kate was on a roll.
“You’ve knocked him on that fine ass of his, and he simply doesn’t know what to do with ya. Damn male egos.” She opened the book. “Now, back to Anna.”
“I don’t know much about her,” I said. “Other than she doesn’t speak and she hates me for some unknown reason.”
“How do you know she be hatin’ you?”
“Based on the glares she’s cast at me… if I ever bump into her on the street, I’m worried she’ll use her energy to shove me in front of an oncoming vehicle.”
Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Page 22
