My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Her classroom door closed behind him, leaving her in the silence to replay the conversation. She didn’t know his secret yet, but she was going to find out.

  “We might have a problem.”

  Ted Belkin sighed and lifted his head.

  Marion was leaning against the doorway. “I just got word from the building inspector’s office that those women you wanted me to keep an eye on came in today for a new permit on that theater.”

  The damned theater. Les Neufs Soeurs, the Cult of the Muses.

  His blood pressure shot up as he tightened his grip on the computer mouse. “Thank you, Marion.”

  She nodded and headed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Ted snatched the phone receiver from its cradle, punching his frustration into the keypad.

  “Yes?” a man said on the other end of the line.

  He lowered his voice, staring at the back of his office door. “I thought you took care of them.”

  “As I reported last night, I was only able to eradicate one target. Urania, the Muse of Astronomy, is no more.”

  Ted tipped his leather chair back, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. “That’s not enough. They were at the permit office today.”

  “Panic isn’t going to further our cause.”

  “I’m not panicking, you little pissant. I don’t think you realize the importance of keeping that theater from opening.”

  He paused long enough for Ted to begin wondering if he’d hung up. “I’m well aware of what’s at stake, sir.”

  “Then get the damned job done. And for god’s sake, find a contact in the building department and see if we can stall their project in the meantime.”

  “I understand. For the good of mankind.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ted slammed the phone back down into its cradle and swiveled his chair to stare out the window. From his office on the sixth floor, he could see the expanse of the Pacific glittering before him. A few miles offshore, his oilrig continued cutting through the rock at the bottom of the ocean, carving through the layers of the Earth. He twisted the heavy gold ring around his finger. It had been in his family for generations, passed down to each eldest child along with the family mission of once again ushering in the Golden Age of Man.

  His great-great-grandfather had been the first of their Order to make physical progress toward the ultimate goal: to free the powerful prisoners from the center of the Earth. In 1896, off the coast of Santa Barbara, his great-great-grandfather used well-drilling equipment attached to the pier. It had been a start. The Order had been involved in mining on land, as well, but cave-ins and environmental impact studies slowed them to a crawl.

  But offshore oil drilling kept their progress hidden from the public eye. As long as the population needed oil, he had the money to continue their quest, cutting deeper toward the Earth’s core.

  None of his ancestors had lived to see the success of their quest. He would be the first, because this time, he’d given the Order a valuable tip, an ace up his sleeve. While he’d attended college, he’d dated a woman with a gift for music. She’d dazzled him at first, but as he got to know her better, he learned she was plagued with strange dreams about ancient Greece and a dilapidated theater here on the West Coast.

  Over time, they’d drifted apart, but after graduation, he’d followed her to Crystal City and discovered that, as crazy as it seemed, his ex-girlfriend was connected with eight more women sharing the same dream of a worn-down theater slated for demolition. And each woman excelled at a different skill set, just as his ex had with music.

  And then suddenly he knew who these women were.

  The nine Greek Muses, awakened again for this generation of man and meant to inspire mankind forward in the sciences and the arts. They’d been brought together through the shared dream of a theater that could change the world. They were now united, driven in their passion to reopen the Theater of the Muses. The same Masonic think tank that had existed in France in the eighteenth century and catered to the likes of Voltaire and Benjamin Franklin.

  But the Order was too close to success now, too close to the center of the Earth, to the Titans. The last things he needed were solar cars and homes. For over a century, his family had perfected the technology to drill oil offshore, but without humanity’s need for the black gold, his funding would dry up. Literally.

  He’d called a meeting, and the Order of the Titans had agreed with his assessment. This generation, the Order would be successful where previous generations had failed, because this time they would steal mankind’s inspiration. They would kill the muses for the greater good.

  Ted smiled. The Golden Age of Man would return, and he would be immortalized as the man with the vision to see the quest to its finish.

  For the good of mankind.

  Chapter Four

  Nate opened the coffee shop door and spotted Mel sitting at a table in the corner. Her dark-red hair hung like a veil, hiding her face, but somehow that didn’t matter. His senses honed in on her the second he walked in. He’d like to blame it on his highly developed observation abilities, but police training had nothing to do with his strange attraction to this woman.

  As he approached, she glanced up from her papers. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

  He frowned. “Did I do something to make you think I’d stand up a woman who offered me help?”

  “No.” Mel chuckled and gestured toward the other chair. “But if there’s a dark side or a tragedy to be found, that’s the first place my mind goes.”

  He sat across from her, and his blood pressure already seemed to be normalizing just being near her. “Can I ask you something?”

  She set her red pen down. “Sure.”

  “How did you come up with mixing the blues and poetry?”

  “This is going to help with Nia’s case?”

  He ran a hand down his face. Way to be professional, Malone. Shit. “Never mind.”

  “Tell you what…” She leaned a little closer. “You answer my personal question, and I’ll answer yours. And if we’re brave enough, we can do one more round. Sound fair?”

  He cocked a brow. Was she daring him? “I guess that depends on how personal your question is.”

  She took a sip of her coffee and slowly set the mug back on the table. “What happened at my condo the other night? Something shook you up when we went back there.”

  Damn it. He didn’t think she had noticed. He tapped his pen on the folder, scrambling for something to tell her besides seeing a wacko in a gold Kronos mask shoving her friend down the stairs.

  “I can’t explain it.” It was the truth. “But even though there’s no evidence to prove your friend was murdered, I believe you.”

  Her expression softened. “Thank you.” She glanced at his folder. “So you think Kronos pushed Nia down the staircase?”

  Yes. He shook his head. “No. But there have been a couple sightings of robed men in these gold masks.” Okay, so that wasn’t exactly true. So far he’d only seen one in his head, but he had to tell her something, and until he could figure out if he was crazy, the truth wasn’t an option.

  She raised a brow. “Really? I haven’t heard anything on TV.”

  He cleared his throat. “I think it’s your turn to answer my question.”

  A barely-there smile tugged at her lips, distracting him for a moment. “I think the blues and poetry are a perfect match. The music helps the kids find a rhythm for their emotions on the page. Plus, it helps my students share with one another in a safe environment. Sometimes knowing you’re not alone in your feelings—especially your tragedies—can make all the difference.”

  And sometimes being alone is the only way to keep the tragedy boxed up, he thought.

  He sat back in his chair, pondering the woman across the table. “You seem pretty together for someone who just lost her friend.”

  She stared at her coffee cup. “I’m a lot of things, but together isn’t one of them.” She lifted her eyes. “I’ll
never sleep in that condo again. I’m staying at Callie’s for now. I called the landlord to terminate the lease.” She blinked back tears and shifted in her chair. “I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to ask a question.” Clearing her throat, she charged forward. “Have you ever been shot?”

  He was going to get whiplash from her sudden changes in subject, but he chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “Yeah.”

  When had tonight become a chance to get to know each other? He had a case to solve. But something about Mel made it tough for him to think straight.

  “Twice,” he went on. “A bullet grazed my right arm once, and I was hit in my vest another time. It cracked a rib, but I lived, so I count that as a win.”

  Mel sipped her coffee. “So what do you want to know about Kronos?”

  He raised a brow at another abrupt change in the conversation. “Are you disappointed I couldn’t dodge a couple bullets?”

  A real smile teased her lips as she lowered her coffee mug. “On the contrary, I’m a sucker for a guy with scars, so for your protection, we should probably stick to the case.”

  “I’m not scared.” Blood was suddenly pumping away from his brain, and for a split second, he considered taking off his shirt to show her his scar. He was losing his mind. Fast. “But I do have a case to work.”

  She nodded slowly. “Definitely for the best.”

  He didn’t agree, but forced himself to nod. Right now he was the only person in the police department who believed her roommate had been murdered, and if the crazy vision was right, then there was a murderer in a mask on the loose, and if he didn’t figure out how to prove it, more people could die.

  The thought sobered him. “Any idea why people might be wearing this mask?”

  She pulled in a slow breath and nodded. “Kronos was the leader of the Titans before Zeus trapped them all in the center of the Earth.”

  “Like Clash of the Titans?” He set his pen down. “You think these people believe in this stuff?”

  Her back stiffened. “Every myth begins from a need to explain a reality. So while I’m not sure a real Kraken is locked up in the Earth’s core, I think it’s likely there is some inhuman force there, something imprisoned to keep it from destroying the world.”

  Nate rocked back in his chair. He wanted to laugh and point out how insane this sounded, but the vision of the robed man in the gold mask reminded him of the danger. Even if this wasn’t real, at least one man with a taste for homicide was buying it.

  “So this Kronos guy is trapped underground, and you think there’s some cult in Crystal City worshipping him?”

  “Maybe?” She shrugged. “When Kronos ruled, it’s referred to as the Golden Age of Man. All milk and honey. I could see a cult wanting to bring back man’s heyday. Maybe they’re end-of-the-world junkies.” She met his eyes. “And Nia was not part of some cult, just in case you were going to ask again.”

  Her cell phone chimed. She glanced at the text and frowned. “Can you excuse me for a second?”

  Mel called Polly back on her cell as she watched Detective Malone—Nate—jotting notes on his pad. The muscles in his forearm flexed and released as he wrote, and she caught herself nearly starting to drool. She rolled her eyes at herself as Polly answered.

  “Hey, Mel. They denied the permit for the roof restoration.”

  “What?” She lowered her voice. “Why? It was a standard building permit. We’re not doing anything crazy.”

  Polly sighed. “They’re sending out a building inspector to check the foundation and the support beams to make sure it’s structurally sound before they’ll issue the permits. The soonest appointment he had open was next month.”

  “But we can’t start the interior renovations without repairing the holes in the roof. This is going to delay our opening.”

  “Which may be what they were after from the beginning,” Polly grumbled.

  Mel frowned. “I was just babbling when I said someone out there doesn’t want the Theater of the Muses to open. My typical worst-case scenario; it wasn’t real.”

  “Maybe it’s more real than any of us realized.” Her voice softened. “Maybe this is why someone hurt Nia.”

  Mel shook her head. “No one would murder someone to stop a theater from opening. That would be ridiculous.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Polly sighed. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thanks,” Mel said and then they both hung up.

  Mel returned to the table in a fog of questions.

  “Everything okay?”

  Nate’s deep voice snapped her back to reality. “No. Our building permits for the theater are being delayed.”

  “Why?”

  She nodded, suddenly unsure what to say. Talking about the theater hit too close to home, too close to the truth of what connected the sisters, to dreams of changing the world and inspiring future generations.

  Nate tapped on the page of Kronos masks again. “Could these people be dressed like this in protest of your theater?”

  “I don’t think so. How would they even know we’re involved in restoring it? We formed an LLC to keep our names and personal property off the project.”

  Nate picked up his pen again. “Can you give me the name on the permits? I could do some digging and see if I can find out what’s really behind the delays. Just to be sure.”

  It couldn’t hurt, could it? She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Our company name is Muses Anonymous, LLC.”

  He smiled, and a warning light went off in her head. She needed to figure out what really happened to Nia, and intimate relationships never ended well for her. Not to mention that she’d made a no-dating pact with her sisters until the theater opened.

  Let this one pass by.

  “How’d you guys come up with the name?” he asked.

  Oh crap. She never should have told him about the permits. “Polly is funding our project. It was her idea. Like that Theater of the Muses in Paris? That’s her vision for the place.”

  Before he could ask any more questions she wasn’t prepared to answer, his cell vibrated on the table.

  “Sorry. I’ve got to take care of this.” He lifted his gaze. “Thanks for the information. I’ll let you know if I find any leads on your roommate, and I’ll see if I can dig anything up on those permits, too.”

  “Thanks.” She sipped her coffee, admiring the view as he walked away. He was clearly still hiding something. She didn’t believe for a second that the Kronos masks were part of some big crime spree. Not when she and her sisters were muses. But he didn’t know that…did he?

  Picking up her red pen, she did her best to focus on grading papers.

  Yeah, right.

  By the time Nate and John finished questioning eyewitnesses of a hit-and-run in the park, all he wanted was a beer and a bed, but when he got home and had a brew in hand, he didn’t head for the television or his bedroom. Instead he sat at the dining room table—his makeshift desk—and opened his notebook and the folder of masks.

  Once his laptop fired up, he started searching for information on Kronos and the Titans. A few days ago, he would’ve laughed his ass off at the idea of Greek gods shoving girls down the stairs in Crystal City, California, but now…

  He rubbed his shoulder and winced. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was sunburned, but he hadn’t been to the beach in weeks. He got up, unbuttoning his shirt on the way to the bathroom. Twisting around, he couldn’t quite see it in the mirror. He grabbed his cell phone and took a picture of the reflection of his back.

  He frowned staring at the pic. “What the hell?”

  His birthmark on the back of his shoulder had been almost black his entire life, but now… He enlarged the photo. It was bright red and raised—like a brand. He didn’t have time for a doctor appointment right now, but it definitely looked angry. Maybe all those years of running on the beach were finally catching up to him. Shit.

  He tossed the shirt on the edge of the bed and went back to the table. He s
till had a case to solve. Greek gods, a theater, and a dead woman shoved down the stairs. There had to be a connection he was missing. If the vision he’d seen was real, what tied Mel and her roommate to this Kronos guy?

  He took a swig of beer and scrolled through more Greek myths about Titans. Maybe he needed a new angle. Mel and her roommate were both part of the Muses Anonymous, LLC. He opened another window and typed Greek muses into the search engine. He clicked the first listing on the page.

  The more he read, the more the mark on his back ached. Nine muses. How many “sisters” did Mel have in this LLC? He opened another window, logging into the city records. Including the victim, there had been nine. Coincidence. Had to be.

  He scanned the names. Nia, the victim, Mel, he’d met Callie. He kept skimming when one popped out at him. Thalia. Unique, and he was almost sure… He switched windows to the page about the Greek muses. Thalia was the Muse of Dance.

  He leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand down his face. This was nuts. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this. It had to be a coincidence.

  Then he read further and froze. The nine muses were the daughters of Zeus.

  Kronos would hate his jailer. What better way to hurt someone than to go after his children?

  He got up, pacing the kitchen. This was certifiable. Mel was a high school English teacher, not a daughter of a fictional god. But what if this guy in the Kronos mask didn’t see it that way? What if they were real to him?

  Mel could be his next target.

  He snatched up his phone and dialed her phone number.

  “Hello?”

  Just hearing her voice calmed the tempest inside. It made no sense. Every part of him was tense. The urgency filtered into his voice. “Mel, I need to see you right away.”

  She hesitated. “What’s wrong?”

  “Face-to-face. It’s important.”

  “Okay.” She sounded less than convinced. “Meet me at Gracie’s in thirty minutes.”