Belladonna's Curse

by E. M. Whittaker

  “He’s such a charmer.” He grabbed the file and slipped it into his desk drawer. “You’re dismissed.”

  “Wait.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “You spoke in present tense about Gunther. What did you mean by that?”

  “I meant what I said.” Sanderson walked over to her chair. “He’s always breaking things. I should dock your pay for repairs.”

  She held her breath. Her chest tightened.

  Her suspicions were correct.

  “Aw, you’re so tense.” He held a hand to his heart. “Consider my revelation a gift, Aviere. You received intel before you completed your assignment.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Now, now.” His voice turned playful. “You know the rules. Finish your assignment and I’ll tell you more.”

  She grabbed his wrist and spun it behind his back.

  Something hard jammed into the back of her skull.

  “Ah, Azazel. Just in time.” Sanderson gave a resigned sigh. “Mye grew agitated like always. Someone should curb her temper, really.”

  The safety clicked behind her. “I could give her an attitude adjustment, you know. It wouldn’t be hard.”

  “Now, now. She’s still useful.”

  Azazel laced his fingers through her hair and yanked her back.

  Mye whimpered, then grabbed her head.

  “Lowell, you’re not thinking about this long term, dude.” The scientist put the gun underneath Mye’s chin. “She’s useful now. What about when she betrays you? Because she will eventually. Something will give her an epiphany and her little feelers will get hurt.”

  “We’ll handle it later.” Sanderson grabbed the gun from Azazel. “You have your orders.”

  “She’s not welcome in my lab.”

  He pointed the gun at Azazel. “I didn’t ask for your preference. Now, go.”

  “I’ll kill her.”

  With lightning speed, her boss yanked her away from the devious shifter scientist. Rage laid behind those golden orbs as he pinned Azazel to the wall.

  Jesus. Azazel hadn’t changed.

  Maybe she should’ve dealt with Peters instead.

  “Harm her and you’ll regret it.” Sanderson waved the gun toward the door. “Mye, leave. I’ll straighten him out. Work on the evidence Roland found.”

  “Kill him.” Her cold tone mirrored her animosity. “He’s always held such disdain toward me. He’ll stab you in the back. He already has.”

  “Despite his faults, I trust his loyalty more than yours.”

  “You’ll regret those words.” Mye ended her sentence in a sing-song voice and grabbed her purse. “He might be a brilliant scientist, but everyone here wants your head. Even him.”

  “Fine. We’ll separate you two. You’re dismissed.”

  Mye hurried into the hallway.

  What were they up to? Why would Sanderson keep her alive if they meant to kill her later? Did it have something to do with her poisoned blood? Or did they enjoy torturing her for fun?

  Neither possibility settled well with her.

  7

  By the time Travis arrived at the Puckered Lips, it resembled the set of a live-action crime show.

  This time, he shielded himself from everyone’s thoughts before heading toward the crime scene. The last thing he needed was to become incapacitated halfway through his investigation. Then he’d have to explain himself to Sanderson. That bastard already knew too much.

  Besides, he had a fluttery feeling about his contact inside the police department. If his suspicions were correct, then he couldn’t show her any weaknesses.

  Tessa Mona would eviscerate him.

  Okay, maybe he exaggerated, but either way, she’d rip him a new asshole. Maybe put a hole into his chest whenever he lowered his guard. Knowing him, he’d probably let her. Those adorable alligator eyes enticed him every time.

  He shivered. He promised himself he’d never date shifters.

  Travis probed tentatively around him. The officers remained busy at the scene—while inevitably botching the evidence—but they didn’t suspect anyone like him in their midst. No one knew the truth of what happened.

  He got to work.

  Not even the frightened witnesses could give details about what happened. Most of them he probed remembered the same story: people dropped dead in mid-walk. A few of them had gashes on them and bled before they died, but they appeared out of nowhere. One person tried recalling the 9-1-1 call but lost their train of thought in mid-sentence.

  Goody. One of these cases.

  No wonder Sanderson kept Mye with him.

  The dark atmosphere didn’t help matters. Every step he took sent mini palpitations through his chest. At one point, he swore someone watched him.

  He turned behind him, then pulled out his gun.

  Someone laughed in the distance.

  For heaven’s sake. Lyssa’s melodic voice—a welcome distraction in this bleak situation—calmed his nerves. You’ve faced worse, haven’t you? It’s just your imagination.

  Travis shook his head. The last time he imagined something, the hellish fantasy became real.

  Then he was alone.

  Oh, god. Her tone turned sharp. No one could have imagined my death quite that vividly. That’s a distraction you don’t need. Now, pay attention, love. I don’t like this place.

  Neither did he.

  He approached the first squad car and bypassed the greenhorn with her doe-eyed expression. Where was her partner? No doubt still inside the building. Why would he leave such an inexperienced person alone with a possible serial killer?

  Whatever. He didn’t work for the Baltimore City Police Department anymore.

  Still, old habits died hard.

  “Oh, look.” Detective Tessa Mona’s hard yet seductive voice stopped Travis in his tracks. “We meet again, agent.”

  “Tessa.” He made sure his voice stayed cordial—which was hard despite the pleasurable heat traveling through his body—and faced her. “I had a feeling we’d meet again.”

  Great. He already slipped.

  He never used first names.

  Ever.

  “Captain Fraser said you’d arrive.” The icy tone never dissipated while she went into her squad car. “He thought you’d arrive late, but I’m glad you didn’t disappoint me.”

  “I was just briefed on it myself.” Not a total lie. “However, the boss didn’t say much. He handed my partner a half-completed case file with blurry pictures.”

  “Blame the new detectives.” She rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers over a tablet’s surface. “I swear, this latest batch are nothing but moronic dunderheads. It was the captain’s brilliant idea to assign two newbies here this evening.”

  Well, that explained the blurred pictures and Tessa’s Ice Queen demeanor.

  “Even you weren’t this bad.” Tessa leaned over the driver’s seat and reached inside her glovebox. “Hell, even your neurotic partner wasn’t this stupid. I’d take his demanding behavior over Opal. She’s hopeless. I keep telling them she should be reassigned to desk duty.”

  Travis leaned into the door. “Jesus. When you endorse Peters…”

  “Believe me, I’m horrified myself.” She pulled up a program on the tablet. “I hate thinking about that prick, honestly.”

  They shared a laugh. A nervous laugh—but one, nonetheless.

  “Anyway, I had those officers correct themselves.” She pulled out an Apple Pen. “They’ve got better placement photographs for his royal prick-in-a-pod. If you sign here, I’ll transfer the files to you. They’ll go to his email, too.”

  He took the pen and pencil-whipped his signature. “Thanks. That’ll help back at the office.”

  “Speaking of which…” She rubbed her neck and pointed to his ear. “I hear you’ve got another partner and she’s spunky. Kept you in line.”

  He furrowed his eyebrows together. “What?”

  “Word travels, you know.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “How does it
feel to travel with a firecracker and the world’s most neurotic man on standby? Does it make you wanna—”

  A set of tires squealed down the road, before the car skidded next to them.

  Peters’s silver Focus shined its lights at Tessa’s squad car.

  Travis slammed his fist into the door.

  So much for civil conversation.

  “Tessa, I thought he stayed at the office.” Again, not a lie. “He kept Mye behind, so—”

  “I know.” Her sharp teeth gleamed underneath the streetlamp she parked under. “You work alone. I remember how Fraser would ream you inside his office. It always pissed him off.”

  Travis nodded.

  “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t ditched him.”

  He covered his face with his hat. “I’ve tried. So has Mye.”

  “I know.” She patted his arm. “For once, I believe you. You’re always consistent about ditching people. Besides, no one likes Peters. He’s unbearable. He’s nailed being a prick all by himself.”

  Her confession lifted the heavy weight inside his chest.

  Lyssa giggled. How adorable.

  He readjusted his hat. He had to focus on the investigation. Not on Tessa’s body or how her voice seeped into his weary soul. He wasn’t ready to date yet.

  Besides, she’d reject him in a heartbeat. They only agreed on Peters because he was everyone’s mortal enemy.

  “Travis, you left without me.” Peters’s distinct voice carried through the open passenger’s window. “He said leave Mye behind, not me.”

  Jesus Christ on a cracker.

  This wouldn’t end well.

  “Agent Peter Peckerhead.” Tessa’s infectious grin warmed him. “Just the man I was about to email.”

  She drifted her hand toward the driver’s door.

  Travis stepped aside.

  “Email? What about email?”

  “Oh, just that you have botched evidence.” Tessa clapped a hand on Travis’s back when she stepped out of the vehicle and maintained her frosty demeanor. “Travis said something about blurred photographs. I wanted to rectify that small detail.”

  He wanted to rectify something, too. Fortunately, he could focus his attention on something else.

  If she faced away from him.

  “Well, then.” Peters’s normal tone shadowed any sort of diplomatic attitude he displayed. “Let’s get to it. You know the drill.”

  She approached his car. “Sure thing.”

  Her work pants accented her curvaceous body and destroyed Travis’s concentration when she leaned against Peters’s door. They shouldn’t have made pants that tight. She had to be uncomfortable.

  However, she moved with ease.

  Lyssa laughed again.

  That’s what women’s clothes do, dear. Accent everything men love about them. Still, it’s nice to see your preferences haven’t changed since I left.

  He blushed.

  This wasn’t the time for this discussion.

  “So, I asked Travis about his partner, but he’s reluctant to talk about her.” Tessa’s voice dipped into the sensual range. “Who is she?”

  “A pain in the ass.” Peters grabbed her pen. “She’s a brain. She’s not meant for this line of work.”

  “So, my suspicions were correct.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” Tessa cleared her throat. “Let’s get to business. I have a juicy tidbit for you two. One the boss won’t give you.”

  She crooked her finger toward Travis and beckoned him closer.

  God, she do could other things with her fingers.

  A million other things.

  He sighed, then came forward. “What, Tess?”

  “Captain Fraser called you here to prove your innocence.”

  He straightened. “What?”

  “The captain heard rumors from the victims. He headed the investigation for a while, but he had an emergency at the office. That’s why I’m here.” Her expression softened. “You know the investigation that led to your woman’s death? The one with that Soulstealer chick?”

  His arousal died. “Of course, I do.”

  “Well, their name circulated among the victims. Two witnesses said their friend uttered that particular name before they died inside the club.”

  The tablet cracked inside Peters’s car. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Absolutely sure?”

  “Shawn.” Travis snatched her pen back. “Asking her five seconds later isn’t going to change her answer.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She took Travis’s hand. “I suppose I owe you an apology, Keith. All this time, I thought the same as everyone else. If this woman is linked to her murder, then—”

  “Yeah.” His throat tightened. “Thanks, Tess.”

  “Anyway, I thought you should know.” She pulled her hand away. “If I told Sanderson, he’d—”

  Travis pointed to his collar. “He’ll overhear anyway and torment us with it later. I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “Good.” Tessa clutched the semi-broken tablet to her chest. “Good luck. And don’t die. I’d really hate to file that incident report.”

  Her animosity dropped at her last sentence as she headed back to her car.

  He couldn’t help it. He took another peek at Tessa’s sexy body waltzing back to her squad car. The woman had to sashay whenever she walked.

  If only she wore heels. They’d accent those muscular legs of hers.

  “Keith.”

  Travis moved over to Peters’s door. “Yeah?”

  “I thought you hated Tessa.”

  “I’m reconsidering my options.”

  The moment he said it, he covered his face with his hand. He hadn’t meant to come off as callous about Peters’s feelings toward his older sister’s death.

  Damn Tessa. If he hadn’t slept with her while they attended the police academy together, then he wouldn’t fantasize about her gorgeous body.

  Still, she apologized to him. Maybe he could score a date with her one night.

  Maybe.

  “Whatever.” Peters pouted, before he grabbed his precious iPad. “Let me look at the evidence before we go inside.”

  “Why did the tablet crack?”

  His partner went quiet. He played with an app on his own device. While playing with it, he whispered, “I know that woman. Soulstealer, I mean. We—we ran into each other once years ago.”

  His partner’s aura burned bright—the sign of someone who told the truth. Then it dimmed slightly. Then again, Travis blocked out quite a few auras around him.

  Perhaps he’d probe further.

  “How do you know her?”

  “Old case.” His voice raised a little. “Look, I don’t wanna talk about this. Even her name gives me nightmares.”

  Of course, it did.

  Soulstealer gave Travis nightmares, too.

  It wasn’t the last investigation he did on her that scared him. Even her necromantic magic didn’t deter him. Of course, he couldn’t help her unfortunate victims because no living person could stop a necromancer after they stole someone’s soul, but he could live with the consequences of dark magic. He didn’t want to touch her with a ten-foot pole.

  No. She had history with Lyssa.

  The bitch kidnapped her for fun.

  When he turned in his final report, he left out several details about Soulstealer. This included where she took Lyssa and the ordeal about rescuing his wife from her. They wouldn’t have believed she hid inside a church meant for the Vatican or he went into another dimension to fight her. In all honesty, the entire scenario came off as delusional.

  Captain Fraser would have shit-canned him and sent him to a psychologist. Again.

  He already had too many incidents by that point.

  “So, you’re aware she’s a necromancer?” Travis held his gun tight. “How she can summon the dead and sometimes bend the laws of physics?”

  Peters nodded.

&nb
sp; Fine. He didn’t have to brief him.

  But he had to take the stupid specialist with him.

  “Take the bloody tablet with you.” He opened Peters’s door. “We’re heading inside.”

  “I’ll wait out here.”

  “No, you won’t.” He pulled him out of the car. “I can’t fight the undead. If she makes you her puppet—”

  “She can’t.”

  Travis stopped. “What?”

  “She can’t.” A weird expression passed over his partner’s face—as if he tried remembering something and words left him. “It’s … I just know she can’t. That’s all. I don’t remember why, though.”

  Weird. Peters never forgot anything.

  The agent kept his gun close and headed to the nightclub, careful to keep his shield up. He couldn’t afford another incident like the one outside the Mistress. Not with Sanderson’s potential cronies running afoot. Even with Tessa for backup—and she barely tolerated his magic—there were others who would exploit him at the first possible opportunity.

  Someone’s voice came through his earpiece.

  Mye.

  He almost forgot about her.

  “Goddammit.” She slammed an item on the other line. “He sent you two bozos to deal with potential sorcerers or wizards. I should be out there, too.”

  Well, Sanderson had a point earlier. She was the most vulnerable person out of their rag-tag crew.

  Besides, what did she know about magic? She knew what Dalara told her in confidence. If he were smart, he’d limit the information he told her because she couldn’t protect herself against everything. She worried about him enough.

  For once, he wished the pothead accompanied him. He’d be useful.

  Well, more useful than Peters, anyway.

  He waved to two of the officers, ignoring their obscene gestures as he passed through the yellow crime tape.

  Let them talk. They didn’t issue his paycheck and they weren’t his bosses. Besides, he lost his soul years ago.

  He kicked the door open, then waved Peters inside.

  (Cliffhanger here)

  The nightclub needed a serious makeover, and not just from the bloodbath the murderer left behind, either. Between the dated decor and the crime scene, he didn’t know if the Puckered Lips would ever reopen.