Charissa Dufour - Misguided Allies (The Void Series Book 2)

by Unknown

  “Chad, a doughnut makes you happy. You don’t marry a doughnut.”

  “Dammit, Sam. I’m trying here.”

  Sam shook her head. “I know, Chad. I know you’re trying. And that’s just it. You shouldn’t have to try to love someone. At least not at the beginning. The fact that you’re having to try tells me that your parents are telling you to do this.”

  “They’re not. I want this. I want you.”

  “I just don’t believe it.”

  Sam turned to open the door, her hand reaching out to grab the handle when Chad grabbed her arm. He jerked her around, his other hand snaking around her waist. He crushed her body against his, pressing his wet lips against hers. When she began to pull away, he grabbed the back of her neck and held her still.

  Her gift awoke to her anger, but she held it back. Chad might have been annoying, but he wasn’t a threat.

  She tried to squirm away from him, turning her head this way and that. To her astonishment, she couldn’t escape his grasp. Since their break up, he had begun working out. He controlled her smaller body as his lips moved against hers and his tongue worked its way into her mouth.

  Finally, Sam forced her body to relax. She was unable to physically escape him, but she could give him nothing to fuel his stupidity. A few seconds after her body went limp, he stopped his attack on her lips and pulled back. Sam lifted her hand and wiped the slime off her face with the back of her hand, her face poised in a steely glare.

  “Finished?” she demanded.

  He glared back, but released her. “This isn’t finished.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  Chad led Sam up to the same level as the Newberry’s residence. She spotted Amber waiting with Chad’s parents, along with most of the building’s inhabitants, beside the entrance to the apartment. Upon spotting their approach, Mr. Newberry began pushing the onlookers aside, making a wide path for Sam. Within the narrow hallway, Sam couldn’t help but hear the mumbled comments of her fellow fae.

  “She works for the vampires.”

  “Might as well be a bloodsucker.”

  “Bloody leech.”

  “Parasite.”

  “Why’d he send for the Void?”

  Sam tried to shut her ears off, but the more she tried, the more she heard.

  “Didn’t she lose her job for being in Solitary too much?”

  “I heard she’s sleeping with that Heywood vampire.”

  “Wasn’t Chad going to marry her?”

  “Only to get in with the Gollets.”

  “Dave and Miranda must be devastated.”

  “Well, what do you expect from a Void?”

  “Who do you think Ryan’ll marry?”

  “That’ll be a lucky girl indeed!”

  Sam swallowed the growing lump from her throat.

  “Samantha, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Mr. Newberry said in a deferential tone, projecting his voice over the half-pitched mumblings of the other fae. “After you solved poor Becky’s murder, and avenged her death, I didn’t know who else to call,” he added for the benefit of their audience.

  This silenced the audience for a short moment before the whispering took on a fervent pitch. Sam couldn’t catch as many distinct sentences, but the general feel of the crowd shifted from hostile to cautious.

  Mr. Newberry escorted her to the edge of the apartment and prepared to follow her when she stopped.

  “Who has entered the crime scene?” she asked, forcing herself to ignore the crowd.

  “Umm…” Mr. Newberry glanced around and pulled a man Sam didn’t know from the crowd.

  “I found Miss Young. I… ummm… we…”

  “I get it,” Sam said. “Did you touch anything?”

  The man swallowed visibly, fresh tears forming in his eyes before he turned to look at Mr. Newberry. Finally he shook his head.

  “I went straight across the hall to Mr. Newberry when I found her.”

  Sam patted the stranger on the shoulder, trying her best to show her sympathy.

  It was a mistake. A big one.

  The man flinched, falling backward into the crowd. The overcrowded hallway buzzed with power as each fae crouched down, preparing to defend the mourning man from the villainous Void who had dared to touch him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Moving as slowly as she could, Sam raised her hands in a sign of surrender. Simultaneously, Mr. Newberry stepped between Sam and the enraged onlookers. Out of the corner of her eye, Sam spotted Chad pressed against the wall of the hallway, looking as though he was ready to bolt for the nearest exit. She suppressed the flutter of disappointment and bit down on her own tongue, surprised by the emotions coursing through her.

  She turned her attention back on the actual danger.

  “Nothing happened,” Mr. Newberry said to the mob of fae, each one crouched in various positions, ready to unleash their powers on her. “Look, she’s not even ready to fight.”

  Sam forced her lips up into a soft smile. Mr. Newberry’s statement was as far from the truth as it could be, but they didn’t need to know that. Her gift was as awake and ready—in fact, she had it under control by a thread. Her tattoo burned against her flesh until she was certain it would sear a hole in her t-shirt. The fact was, the entire hallway was flooded with every flavor of magic known to the fae. All seven clans were represented by multiple members. It was a fusion of powers dancing, mixing, and blending around each other.

  Had Sam been at leisure to enjoy the aura around her, she would have thrown back her head and sighed, melting into the bedlam and allowed her gift out to play. There was so much power filling the tight space no one person would have suffered as she filled her tank, though what the result would be she couldn’t fathom.

  But considering the situation, she couldn’t even think of sipping on the orgy of power surging through the hallway. If even one fae thought she was using her Void gift, they would all turn on her, and likely take Mr. Newberry with her. After all, he had stuck his neck in the noose—so to speak—by sending for her.

  And so Sam stood in the doorway, looking as though she was waiting for a bus, rather than facing down a mob of seriously pissed off fae. She felt a little trickle of sweat begin its way down the back of her neck and focused on that. The effort of controlling her gift was beginning to take its toll on her, and if the other fae didn’t get themselves in order, she was going to do something they all regretted. All the same, she kept her pose relaxed, even going so far as to lean against the door jam.

  Finally, the other fae began to relax as she made no move against them.

  “It’s early, folks, and I know most of you have kids that will be waking up soon. Go back to your apartments, get ready for the day. Let me and the leaders of the Víz deal with this. We will keep you all informed.”

  Slowly the crowd began to disperse, some wandering down the stairs to their own apartments, while most joined their friends in the residences of those that lived on the floor in question. Sam would have preferred they all put some distance between them and her. The thin walls of the apartments did little to calm her gift, but she would have to manage.

  After a long wait, the only people to remain were Mr. Newberry, Amber, Chad, the lover of the victim, and three men Sam didn’t know.

  “These are the leaders of the Víz,” explained Mr. Newberry before introducing them.

  Sam heard their names, immediately forgetting them, and shook their hands.

  “I would prefer not to have everyone go in with me.”

  “And why’s that?” asked one of the Víz leaders with flaming red hair—a rather ironic color for a fae with a water-based gift.

  “Extra bodies mean an increased chance of someone accidentally stepping on something that might tell me something, a clue if you will. Amber has been to a few crime scenes with me before, so I’d like her with me. Rest of you stay here. Oh, and was Miss Young the caretaker of any artifacts?”

  The leaders straight
ened the collars of their shirts and shifted their feet.

  “What business is that of yours?” one of them finally asked.

  Sam fought the temptation to roll her eyes. “Every victim has been a caretaker so far, and each artifact has gone missing. It matters. What did she have and what could it do?”

  The leaders turned to look at Mr. Newberry.

  “She needs to know,” he said.

  One of them cleared his voice. “It was a scrying bowl called Water Whisper. It could be used to send long distance messages to its mate.”

  “A telephone,” Sam said, translating his description into her twenty-first century language.

  The older fae stiffened.

  “What’s the catch?” Sam asked.

  “The mate was lost nearly two centuries ago. Besides, even if we had both bowls, it’s unlikely they would work with so much iron around,” he added, waving his hand in a circle to indicate the iron in the building.

  “What do you mean lost?” demanded Sam.

  Again, the leaders shuffled their feet and adjusted their perfectly presentable clothing. They didn’t appreciate her accusations. She worked to adjust the expression on her face.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter. When I’m done looking at the scene, you’ll need to see if the bowl has been taken, unless you’ve already checked.”

  “We have. It’s gone.”

  “Did you touch the body?” demanded Sam, her patience gone.

  “No.”

  “Good,” she said before turning and finally entering the apartment.

  Amber followed her into the apartment. They didn’t have far to go to find the crime scene. For once, it looked as though the victim had fought back. The whole room dripped with moisture.

  “Why is it all wet?”

  “Víz,” replied Sam. “She fought back with her powers. Tried to drown them or whatever it is she can do.”

  “She creates fog,” said one of the leaders from the doorway of the apartment.

  Sam nodded.

  Ali Young was a petite woman to the extreme, but a fighter. She lay sprawled across her bed, her pajamas rumpled. From where Sam and Amber stood in the doorway of her bedroom, they could see at least three different bite marks.

  Sam frowned just as Amber spoke.

  “Multiple attackers?”

  “What do you feel?” Sam asked, ignoring Amber’s question.

  “Huh?”

  Sam let out a sigh as she stepped over the threshold and looked down at the body. “You’re an empath Amber. What do you feel? Anything left over?”

  “Oh!”

  Amber closed her eyes and breathed through her nose as though she could smell someone’s emotions. She held her breath a moment before letting it out in a gusty sigh.

  “Nope. Sorry. All I can get it is from that mob.” She tilted her head toward the hallway.

  Sam shrugged her shoulders. Truth was, all she was getting was in regards to gifts was from the mob too. If she had tried to figure out what kind of fae Ali had been she would have been at a loss.

  “No worries. Same here,” Sam mumbled as she examined the nearest bite.

  “What is it?” Amber asked.

  Sam glanced up at Amber. Sam glanced purposefully in the direction of the mass of men waiting in the hallway. As if Amber caught on, she stepped through the doorway and shut the door.

  “Look at this,” Sam said in the barest whisper as she pointed to the bite on Ali’s leg.

  Amber flinched, but obediently approached the dead body.

  “What about it?”

  “Doesn’t it look weird?” Sam asked.

  Amber shook her head.

  Belatedly, Sam realized Amber didn’t see vampire bites as often as Sam did.

  “Right. When vampires bite, they don’t tend to leave bruises. At least not when they know what they’re doing.”

  “So like we thought before with the leaked blood—new vampires,” whispered Amber.

  Sam shrugged. Even that didn’t sit right with her. She went back to examining the body in minute detail. She found a total of five bites, some of them extremely large bites and in places…

  “What are you doing?” demanded Amber.

  Sam had been trying to position her mouth as the vampire had done to make the bite marks seen on the body.

  “How did the vampire bite her there?” she asked, pointing to the bite mark in the small of Ali’s back.

  “Who cares?” demanded Amber, her voice going back to sounding as though she hated Sam.

  Sam took a deep breath. “Amber, do you want me to solve this or not? Now, how does anyone, aside from a werewolf, un-hinge their jaw in order to make these sort of bite marks?”

  Amber forced herself to look at the bite mark again. “I don’t know. What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m saying it’s weird and we should take note of it.”

  Sam pushed herself off her haunches and stretched out her aching legs.

  “There’s something you’re not saying?” whispered Amber.

  Sam glanced around the room. Aside from it being wet, it looked as though Ali had put up one hell of a fight. Nothing appeared to be where it belonged. The chair was knocked over. The lamp lay shattered in the far corner, the cord draped across the room barely attached to the outlet. Her blankets were dragged down to the floor and tangled around one ankle. A clump of her hair—scalp attached—was tangled in the handle of the single drawer of her desk as though in her struggles her hair had gotten caught.

  It was no wonder Ali was covered in bruises. She had not gone peacefully. In fact, Sam doubted the water fae had died of blood loss. If the FMB bothered with an autopsy, she suspected they would find the fae’s cause of death to be blunt force trauma to the head.

  Sam took another step into the room and, without touching the body, examined Ali’s head. As she had expected, the back of her skull was caved in. Sam looked more closely at the edge of the desk that ran along the edge of the narrow bed, where she found blood and chunky bits she chose not to name.

  “What did you find?”

  Sam jerked upright and took a step back, diverting Amber’s gaze before the more sensitive woman could see the brains dribbling down between the desk and the bed to make a puddle on the floor.

  “The cause of death. Let’s get out of here. I think I’ve seen enough,” she added.

  Amber didn’t hesitate.

  The two women walked out of the apartment and met the men in the hallway.

  “Well?” demanded the speaker for clan leaders.

  “Well what?” asked Sam.

  “Who did this?”

  Sam burst out laughing. She was too tired to keep her politically correct face in place in face of their all-encompassing stupidity.

  “You thought I could go in there, look at the body, and magically give you a name?” she asked, wiping laugh-tears from her eyes.

  The men grumbled as they looked at their feet.

  “It doesn’t work that way, boys.”

  This brought more complaints from them, to which she held up her hand.

  “I’ll work on it. I’ll figure it out. They left some clues.”

  “Was it your boss, that Heywood fellow?” demanded one of the other leaders who had yet to speak out.

  Sam smiled condescendingly. “You’ve seen the body. You know how old Heywood is. Do you really think someone as old and powerful as Heywood is would have to struggle against a fae who can—what?—make fog? I’m not denying that some of us are extremely powerful against the vampires, and combined as an army we are unstoppable,” she said to mollify their egos. “But Ali Young was not a fighter. If Heywood had chosen to attack her, she would not be covered in bruises and he would have killed her by draining her blood. He would not have had to bash her skull in to subdue her. This was done by newbie vampires.”

  They believed her and Sam let out a sigh of relief. Truth was, she didn’t believe herself. Not about Hey
wood—she knew it wasn’t him—but she wasn’t convinced this was done by newbie vampires. She didn’t think it was vampires at all.

  The sudden realization nearly took her off her feet.

  “If you need to speak with me, Mr. Newberry can get in touch,” she added, knowing they would not want to reach out to her directly, before turning and leaving.

  To her surprise, Amber followed. Thankfully, Chad did not.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam and Amber reached the courtyard, both women tipping their faces back to feel the cold, wet flakes dot their faces. Sam let out a long, slow breath, feeling as though the snow cleansed her of the anger and hatred permeating the walls of that apartment. She glanced at Amber. The brown-haired beauty still had her head tipped back, enjoying the taste of snowflakes on her tongue.

  Sam smiled as an ache settled into her heart.

  As though she felt Sam’s gaze, Amber jerked her head down and glared at Sam. Amber stuffed her mitten-garbed hands into her pockets and marched away. Before Amber could take two steps, the attack came.

  Sam tried to call out a warning, but the streak of movement was too fast. It raced across the empty courtyard and collided with Amber, taking her to the frozen ground. Sam released her gift. It grappled the vampire, draining it in one large gulp.

  Sam assessed her magical tank. It was near full but not quite there. All her recent battles had indeed increased her capacity. She smiled to herself as she turned to see two more vampires racing into the courtyard from opposite directions. Sam held out her hands, taking from them both.

  Both vampires slowed their movements, but within seconds Sam’s tank was full.

  Dammit, she thought. She needed to learn a spell or two to drain the magic out faster. The only thing she could think to do was charge at the vampires, but which one?

  Sam turned toward the one nearest Amber, who was still struggling to free herself from the limp body of the first vampire. She charged at the vampire and hit him in the shoulder, spinning with the collision. Sam let out a low curse of pain as she stumbled to her knees, catching herself with her uninjured arm.

  She felt her magic flow to the injury as it worked to heal it; the problem was, the joint was dislocated, and try as it might, it couldn’t fix a dislocation until she put it back in place. Sam worked to stable herself before she grabbed her shoulder, preparing herself to jerk it back into place.