Bad Witch: A Snarky Paranormal Detective Story (A Cat McKenzie Novel Book 2)

by Lauren Dawes

  My name is Cat McKenzie, and I need a vacation.

  It’s almost Christmas—my favorite time of the year—-at least it would be if it weren’t for the psychotic fae assassin trying to hunt me down and permanently punish me with a dirt-bed for interfering in his plot for revenge.

  To top off my Christmas Tree of Crap, I’m still dealing with residual feelings of lust for my incubus partner. Even though I’ve started dating safe, human men, staying away from him is proving too hard.

  Japanese water spirits, fae queens and unwanted supernatural visitors…

  When can I get off this crazy ride?

  Bad Fae

  Chapter One

  “And that’s how I decapitated the mean old vampire.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to cram them back in there. My date, Mason Crane’s eyes had bugged out of his skull, his face drained of color. Silly me for sharing what my work days were like, although decapitation wasn’t the half of it. Rogue vampires, zombie cyclops, gremlins with a penchant for Dodge Rams, I’ve seen it all. I’ve also experienced it all.

  It was called a Tuesday in the life of Cat McKenzie.

  Stabbing my straw into my glass, I watched the ice buffer the sides of the plastic cup before leaning down to take a sip. We were in a train carriage moonlighting as a twenty-four-hour diner. It was old—its heyday been about a quarter of a century earlier—but they still served some awesome pie.

  Mason pushed his John-Lennon-esque glasses up his nose. “And this is normal for you?”

  I shrugged. “What’s normal mean, anyway? I just go to work and this stuff happens.” I gestured to my new truck parked outside. I went with a Ram again, because why fix a thing of beauty. “That’s a brand-new truck. I got it a week ago to replace my other brand-new truck which was crushed then eaten by a six-story gremlin. And the one before that? A vampire drove a semi-truck into it a few minutes before dawn… with me in the driver’s seat. The vampire we’d arrested in the back got ashed the instant the sun hit it.”

  Mason’s already pallid face went a weird off-greenish color. Reaching for his drink, he brought his coffee cup up to his mouth and took a draw. His brown eyes were wide behind his round glasses, but the flop of hair over his forehead hid the sweat I knew was beading on his brow.

  He was what people liked to call ‘a hipster’. He was an educated, sensitive, well-groomed man with a manicured beard, glasses and hair that could be scooped into a man-bun if he so desired.

  And he so desired.

  It was sitting at the top if his head like a little radio tower.

  A radio tower of brown locks, projecting the message that he was a metrosexual hipster who enjoyed his cushy publishing gig and the use of hair—and probably beard—products.

  “Have you ever thought about decorating your beard?”

  He lowered his coffee cup like a knight lowering his shield in front of a dragon he can’t decide is a threat or not. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “Well, Christmas is next week. You should put some string lights or something in there. I saw a website that made them just for beards.”

  The look of abject horror on his face would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the fact that I was being serious. “Ah, well…” he stammered.

  “I’ll get you some,” I replied, pushing my cup away when I saw our pie coming.

  This was our first date.

  And I was suffering from all sorts of first date jitters. Mostly because I didn’t date. When would I have time to devote to a man outside of work? I’d met Mason Crane in the coffee shop in town. We’d both been refueling for the day. He asked me to pass him a stirring stick. I did. Then he asked me for a lid. I handed that over too. Then he asked me for his number and a date.

  Although I wasn’t looking for someone to date, I said yes.

  You want to know why?

  Because Mason was human. H-U-M-A-N. As human as a human could get.

  Just like me.

  He didn’t have the ability to stir lust within me in a single look. He didn’t need to suck my blood to survive. I didn’t need to be careful about what I said around him for fear of indebting myself to him.

  He was safe.

  And I needed safe.

  Sawyer hadn’t liked the idea, but Sawyer could suck a dick for all I cared.

  “I’ve got a slice of cherry and a slice of apple,” the waitress announced arriving at our table. Being the pro she was, she remembered exactly who had ordered what, placing my cherry pie down in front of me. “Anything else?” she asked.

  “We’re fine. Thanks,” I replied, unwrapping my fork from the napkin and cutting off a bite of my pie.

  Mason shuffled his glasses further up his nose and said, “Thank you, but no.”

  The woman walked away and I smiled at Mason. “I hear this pie is the best.”

  He nodded. As he ducked his head down to take a mouthful, my gaze snagged on someone sitting in the booth behind us. There was only one occupant and she was facing me—staring at me, in fact. I flashed her a scowl then got busy with the pie.

  “So, Catherine,” Mason began.

  “Cat, please. Call me Cat.”

  He smiled. “Cat. Why did you become a cop?”

  I faltered. There were two ways to answer this really. The truth or a bald-faced lie. Since I’d already divulged a lot about my crazy life, I decided on the truth.

  “It wasn’t what I wanted to do. I started doing an arts degree, but after my father’s death, I switch courses. I wanted to stop other people from getting hurt and this seemed like the most logical way to do it.”

  “I think it’s very noble.”

  I smiled a little at that. Nobody had ever told me I’d done something noble before. “And how did you get into publishing?”

  Mason placed his fork down on the side of his plate and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Oh, I wanted to be a writer, but I could never finish a manuscript. I always seemed to get stuck in the middle of my story and not know the way out. I went into publishing because at least that way, I’d still be involved in the industry even if I wasn’t a part of the industry.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “What kind of books would you like to write?”

  A faint blush crept up his cheeks. “Oh, ummm, reverse harem?” He phrased it as a question. “Have you heard of it?”

  “Well, I know what a harem is,” I started. “So reverse would be one girl with lots of guys?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Mason, that’s kind of kinky.”

  His blush grew deeper. “I’d write under a nom de plume and write reverse harem. Contemporary stuff, you know.”

  “Cowboys and the nanny. Billionaire tech-company teams and the secretary, hockey team and a journalist reporting on their illicit sex tally?”

  He blinked. “Those are amazing ideas for a story.”

  I buffed my knuckles onto my chest. “I am pretty great, right?”

  My gaze flickered across his shoulder to the woman sitting in the next booth. Her eyes were fixed on me, a sneer pulling up the corner of her mouth. Huh. Maybe she wasn’t a big RH fan. “Will you excuse me, Mason? I just have to go to the bathroom for a sec.”

  “Oh, sure,” he replied.

  Getting up from the booth, I walked down to the far side of the car-length counter and into a small hallway that serviced the kitchen and the bathrooms. The ladies was the first door on the left and I stepped inside.

  There were only two stalls, so I took the one farthest away from the door and locked myself in. A moment later, the bathroom door opened again and someone stepped into the other stall.

  I had a weird thing where I couldn’t pee while someone else in within earshot, so I waited for them to flush and wash their hands before I’d even started. Once I was done, I opened up the door and paused when I saw the same woman as before facing the mirrors, her palms on the sink in front of her and her eyes fixed on my reflection.

  Thinking I was crazy, that
this woman couldn’t possibly have been waiting for me, I stepped up to the other sink, pumped some soap…

  “You’re a dead girl walking,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  She turned her head with creepy slowness, pinning me with eyes the color of aquamarines. They were as cold as those stones too. “I said, you’re a dead girl walking. Kailon sends his regards,” she said with a smile.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  I hadn’t heard hide nor hair from Kailon Perry—the fae assassin who was now trying to kill me because I took away his opportunity for revenge two weeks ago—but I guessed my reprieve was over.

  “So you’re Kailon’s bitch, huh?” I said, rubbing my hands together and lathering them up. I waited for her to reply, but when she wasn’t so forthcoming, I washed away the suds. The small space filled with the scent of lemon. “Got nothing to say to that?”

  She hissed at me, her human face sliding off to reveal bubblegum pink skin and bright blue hair. Her eyes stayed the same. She could’ve passed for human if not for the skin or the three-inch fangs filling her mouth. “Kailon said to make sure you suffered.”

  “He’s considerate like that,” I replied with a shrug, shaking the water from my hands. “So, are we going to do this in here, or do you need more room?”

  She lunged for me, grabbing my head and slamming it down onto the edge of the basin. Bells rang in my head as my vision flickered to black. Lemons. Lemons edged with the metallic hum of blood. The smell was everywhere, pervasive. Pernicious. With my hair still firmly grasped in her hand, the fae wrenched my head up and back, then yanked forward until my skull met glass. The mirror spiderwebbed with cracks then shattered when my head made a second appearance on it.

  Blood streamed down my face from the gash along my forehead. “That’s the last cheap shot you get at me,” I told her, breathing heavily through my mouth.

  The fae laughed and the sound of it was like heaven in my ears. All my anger melted away from me, leaving me only with a sense of calmness. As soon as she stopped, though, all the fog that filled my head drifted away, leaving me confused. Damn, that was some kind of power. Too bad she couldn’t laugh while I was kicking her ass.

  The fae’s brows slammed down over her eyes as she stared at me. “What the hell are you?” she demanded.

  I tried not to get offended by that. “My name’s Cat McKenzie and I’m going to kick your ass,” I told her with a grunt. Elbowing her in the ribs, she let go of my hair with an oomph! and backed away a step, but still blocked the door.

  “You’re not supposed to be able to break free of my power so easily.”

  Power? “The laughing thing you just did?” I asked, then scoffed. “It’s a pretty lame power if you ask me.”

  O-kay, so that was the wrong thing to say to her. “That lame power has brought down countless leaders, leaving them open for take overs and wars.”

  “Yawn. Look, I guess it was okay, but it wasn’t as bad-ass as Kailon’s ability to suck all the air from the room. If you want a show-stopper ability, that’s it.”

  The fae shook her head. “Stop talking.”

  “And die?” I supplied. “Is that all you got?” I was stalling so hard. I wasn’t prepared to be attacked tonight. I thought I was just going on a date with Mason Crane—human publisher and overt metrosexual. I wasn’t expecting to be fighting in the women’s bathroom with a fae who could literally drain all the anger and aggression out of a person.

  “You know, people say that to me a lot,” I muttered. In my peripheral vision, I saw Reaver shimmer into existence beside the toilet I’d just used.

  Reaver was a magical angel sword that had taken a liking to me. It came with all the awesome accessories—showed up whenever it damn well wanted, unpredictability and a bloodlust for revenge that was downright creepy.

  I edged closer toward the stall, wiping blood out of my eyes.

  The fae watched me like a lion watched its prey. “Where are you going?”

  “Toilet?” I said. “Murder attempts give me a spastic colon.”

  “Stay where you are,” she growled.

  I tutted. “No can do. I have a date out there and he’ll be wanting to know where I went.” Before she could move, I dove to the floor, sliding across the tile until Reaver’s pommel with in my hand. Twisting over onto my back, I held the sword out in front of me, and the fae’s eyes widened. She was already in motion, and there was no way she could stop. She slammed into me, Reaver puncturing straight through her chest and out the other side. Blood poured from the wound, covering my shirt, chest and neck with blood that smelled faintly of cotton candy.

  I’d just have to chalk all this up to another day in the life of Cat McKenzie.

  “Kai… lon,” she gasped. “Will… avenge…”

  Her face was mere inches from mine as she died, her last breath feathering over my

  face.

  Being as gentle as I could, I rolled her off to one side and stood up. Reaver was sticking straight out of her at a forty-five degree angle. Gingerly, I wrapped my hands around the hilt and pulled. The steel slid out easily, coated in bubblegum pink blood. It looked more like transmission fluid than something that was necessary for life, but a doctor for the fae I was not.

  Glancing around, I wondered how to deal with the mess. Shutting the door seemed like the first step, so as I stepped from the stall, I eased the door shut behind me. Next step was calling Sawyer.

  “Hello? Cat?” he answered in his low drawl.

  “Hey.” I watched the pink blood creep toward the drain in the center of the floor. “So, funny story, but I just killed a fae in the ladies room.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a particularly funny story,” he replied.

  “I guess it depends on who’s telling it,” I quipped. I toed the edge of the creeping sea of pink. “Anyway, she’s dead so I guess send in the cavalry?”

  His chuckled elicited a reaction from all the parts of my body he’d touched. We’d had sex once—more out of necessity than want—and although he could somehow get a hard-on for me again, I decided that banging my partner wasn’t the most professional thing to do.

  “Where are you?” After I told him, he added, “I’ll be down there in ten. Don’t touch anything and don’t let anyone mess up the scene.”

  “Roger that.” I hung up and pushed out of the ladies’ room. There was a woman about the open up the door. “Sorry, closed for a murder investigation.” The woman’s eyes bulged before she nodded and scurried away.

  Also by Lauren Dawes

  The Half Blood Series

  Half Blood

  Half Truths

  Half Life

  Half Cast

  Half Bound

  Half Blood: The Complete Collection Books 1-5

  Helheim Wolf Pack Novellas

  Hunter

  Riley

  Dylan

  Oliver

  Casey

  Cat McKenzie Series

  Bad Vampire

  Bad Witch

  Bad Fae

  Bad Wolf

  Bad Kitty

  The Dark Trilogy

  Dark Deceit

  Dark Desire

  Dark Devotion

  Dark Trilogy Bundle: The Complete Series

  Blood Bound Series

  Shadowed Lover (2021)

  Shadowed Pain (2022)

  About the Author

  Lauren Dawes is a USA Today Bestselling Author. She writes dark urban fantasy and paranormal romance and is the author of the Half Blood series, the Dark Trilogy and the Blood Bound Series. She likes her vampires dangerous, her shifters vicious and her Norse gods ruthless.

  When she’s not writing, she’s reading, hanging with her young daughter or designing book covers. She currently lives in Brisbane, Australia.

  Visit her at: www.authorlaurendawes.com

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