shadows of salem 01 - shadow born (14 page)

Every ounce of blood drained from my face, leaving me feeling cold inside.

“Is that what I saw?” I whispered.

“Undoubtedly.” Maddock cast a scathing glance at the bloody symbols painted on the walls, faded but still undeniably there. “These symbols are consistent with such a ritual. A barbarism of fae magic.” He spat on the millstone, and I tensed, half-expecting it to sizzle.

“Right.” I let out a long breath, then squared my shoulders. “Let’s get back on track. Do you have any super-special fae ability that can tell me where the body is that we’re looking for?”

Maddock lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. “This way.”

I followed him out of the front room and down a narrow hall. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet, and the smell of earth and blood grew stronger. We turned into a large room with a pile of large, moldy sacks to our left, and off in the corner, I could see the hard-packed earth had been dug up and patted back down again.

“Shit,” I muttered, toeing the spot with my booted foot. “I could really use a shovel right now.”

Huffing, Maddock lifted a hand and spoke a strange word that made my eardrums throb. “Ye dinnae need a shovel,” he told me. “Ye have me.”

The earth beneath my feet shifted, and I jumped out of the way as dirt spewed out of the ground, almost as if it was being vomited by the bowels of the earth. My stomach lurched as the decomposing body of a large woman popped out of the soil, her flaxen curls and flower-printed dress bedraggled and stained with blood and dirt.

“There she is,” Maddock said without preamble.

“Great.” I propped my hands on my hips, not sure whether to glare at Maddock or the dead body. “Now how the hell am I supposed to explain this to the precinct?”

CHAPTER 15

I
t took a good thirty minutes for the local and state police to arrive on scene, and another half hour after that for the medical examiner to get here, as there was only one and he was based out of Boston. During that time, Maddock and I discussed how best to proceed. After all, if a coven of witches was involved, was it really a good idea to involve local law enforcement?

I believed in the law, of course, but guns were of limited use against magic, and Maddock was of the stringent opinion that humans should have as little involvement with the supernatural world as possible. We argued back and forth for a few minutes, trying to work out a compromise that would serve us both.

In the end, we decided to let the local police department take the body in and make the appropriate notifications to the woman’s family, and that Maddock would pull whatever strings he had to in order to keep the authorities in the dark regarding the supernatural nature of this case. In the meantime, he took his car and left the scene—having him around would raise too many questions.

It didn’t feel totally right, lying to Captain Randall about this case, but since he was lying to me, I figured that made us even. I was going to dig up whatever secrets he was hiding, but first I had to figure out what was going on with these disappearances and now murders. After all, I was the only cop around here who could.

“Jesus, Baxter,” I snapped into my cell phone as I watched the crime scene tech carefully go through the mill, looking for any evidence that I might have missed. “It’s been close to an hour. Aren’t you coming?”

“I can’t.” Baxter growled. “I caught a murder of my own this morning. Domestic violence gone south, and it’s not pretty. I’m going to be tied up with this all day.”

“Dammit.” I jutted out my lower lip. “I was really hoping I could at least get a ride from you.” The medical examiner had already left, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to cramming myself into the van full of crime-scene equipment, though I’d do whatever I had to.

“Oh, well if that’s what you need, I can always ask my brother to grab you.” Baxter paused. “He told me you stopped by the church the other day.”

“Oh, Father James?” I relaxed a little. “Yeah, that’ll work. Your brother’s a nice guy.” And he might be able to answer some questions about what the hell had gone on at this mill, too.

“All right, I’ll give him a call.”

I helped the crime scene technician finish up in the mill, careful to keep my gloves on at all times so I didn’t touch anything directly with my hands. Breaking down and crying mid-vision in front of the crime scene technician would be exactly the type of nail Captain Randall would love to pound into my coffin.

Unfortunately, without my special ability, there wasn’t much to see. The technician took blood samples from the symbols, but despite the disarray of the old mill and the presence of a dead body, there wasn’t much else to find.

“You sure you don’t need a ride home?” the tech asked as he loaded his equipment back into the dusty white Ford van he’d driven here. He was a skinny guy in his early thirties, but the smattering of freckles on his nose and his baby face made him look a
lot
younger. “I’d hate to leave you out here stranded.”

“I’m good, thanks.” My grumbling stomach belied the words, but I ignored it. I could afford to wait an extra few minutes for Father James to get here. He was already on his way, so it would be rude of me to leave him waiting.

By the time Father James arrived, the sun was hovering directly overhead, and my stomach was crying out for lunch. I jumped to my feet eagerly as a black Camry pulled up in front of the mill and was at the door before he had a chance to roll down his window.

“Thanks for coming to get me, Father,” I said as I slid into the passenger’s seat and shut the door behind me.

“You’re quite welcome.” But the words weren’t sincere, and the tone in his voice was enough to drag my attention away from the seatbelt I was fastening. I expected him to be looking at me, but instead his attention was fixed on the old, crumbling structure of the mill. “I’m curious to know what you were doing all the way out here without a car.”

“Huh?” I was momentarily thrown when he turned his narrowed gaze at me. Why was Father James so suspicious? “I took a cab out here,” I said, repeating the same lie I’d told my peers. “My car’s in the shop.”

“I see.” He studied me for a moment, then shifted the car into reverse so that he could turn and head back up the dirt road. “You shouldn’t have come up this way alone, Brooke. It isn’t safe.”

“I’m a cop, Father James, and I was chasing down a lead. Staying safe isn’t really part of my job description.”

“And did your lead pan out?” he asked, voice tight.

“Yeah. I found a dead body.” My voice hardened in response to his judgmental attitude. “Just what is your problem, anyway?”

Father James swung his head around to face me even as he kept his foot pressed down on the gas, careening us up the pebble-strewn road. “My
problem
is that you’re sticking your nose into places where evil abounds. I warned you about the dangers of this place, tried to give you protection, but there’s only so much I can do. If you keep wandering off the beaten path, you’re going to end up like Tom.”

“What do you know about Tom?” I demanded, but he was already turning away. I itched to grab his arm, to pull his gaze back to mine, but he was heading onto the highway now, and the last thing I needed was to distract him while he was piloting a moving vehicle.

“I know that he was just like you,” Father James replied. “Determined to find answers, determined to find truth. And as much as I believe in the Lord, and that shining His light into the darkness is the only way to banish evil, I also believe that around here, it’s the quickest way to get yourself killed.”

I tried to get more information out of Father James, but he was remarkably tight-lipped, and the drive back to the precinct was shorter than I’d have liked. I spent the rest of the day handling the paperwork regarding the victim I’d found this morning and also helping Baxter wrap up the case he’d caught.

The prettily-dressed woman I’d found buried in the old, rundown mill was born Marjorie Graham and was a thirty-two-year-old resident of Salem. She owned a bakery a few blocks from the apartment where she’d been killed. I wondered if the Giant she’d become lovers with had romanced her from over the glass counter of her bakery shop or if the two of them had run into each other on the street and hit it off. Had she known he was fae?

She had to have known,
I thought, drumming my fingers against my desk as I paused in the middle of writing my report. There was no way she’d spent any length of time in his apartment, and not to mention his bed, without knowing.

And now she was dead, and her family would never know the truth of what had happened to her. Even if I hunted down the women dressed in black who had done this to her, Marjorie’s family would still never know the entire truth, because Maddock wouldn’t allow it.

I curled my fingers around my mouse, digging angrily into the hard, white plastic. God dammit, but why did Maddock get to decide? Who was he to pull strings and press buttons, to have autopsy and police reports doctored so that no hint of the supernatural would come up in any investigations? Who was he to leave so many cases dangling, so many families without closure?

And just what good is closure when you’re lying on the inside of a closed casket?

I sighed. That was true enough. What was the point in telling someone that the boogie man was real if you couldn’t also arm them with the knowledge they needed to defend themselves against him?

If I went up to Captain Randall—or any of the cops here, for that matter—and even
hinted
at what I’d seen, they’d have my badge and lock me up with the crazies. And then how was I going to help anyone?

No, much as I wished I could tell people the truth, it wasn’t the right choice. Aside from the fact that they’d think I was crazy, I also didn’t know enough to teach them what to do about all of this crap anyway. I still had too much to learn myself.

As the day went on, I half-expected Captain Randall to call me on the carpet for being late and pursuing a murder without Baxter, or at least grill me for the holes that any cop worth his salt would find in my vague report. But as the end of the day drew closer, I began to see that Maddock had kept his end of the bargain.

Nobody would be looking into this. Nobody but us. Which meant that if I wanted to find out what was going on, I needed to get out of here.

As soon as my shift ended, I was out the door and in my Jeep. It felt good to have the steering wheel under my hands again—walking around Salem had been interesting, but now that I knew strange creatures haunted the shadows, I felt safer driving home.

As I pulled into the lot in front of my apartment building, which was part of a complex of several buildings located just off Bridge Street, my attention snapped to a huge black guy dressed in a tailored suit. He was leaning against the trunk of a shiny black Mercedes, and as I slid into my spot, he inclined his head, his brilliant amber eyes glinting with recognition.

A shiver slid down my spine as I killed the engine, and I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Maybe it was his strangely-colored eyes that gave him away, or maybe it was some kind of built-in supernatural intuition, but I just
knew
he was fae.

“Good evening, Detective Chandler.” The man inclined his head to greet me as I got out of my Jeep, his deep, rich voice washing over me like a wave of molasses.

“Good evening.” I paused in front of him, folding my arms across my chest. The action hitched my blazer up a little, drawing attention to the gun and badge at my hip. “Since you seem to be waiting for me, mind telling me what I can do to help you?”

“Staying inside would be the easiest,” the man said. “Lord Tremaine sent me here to secure the perimeter and make sure nothing comes to attack you tonight.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Tremaine sent me a bodyguard?”

“I guess you could call it that.” The guy shrugged, drawing attention to his massive shoulders. Jesus, was being built like a behemoth a job requirement for working with Maddock Tremaine? “I’ve had the doors and windows of your apartment warded, so nothing should be able to get in unless you let it in.”

“Oh.” My first instinct was to be angry that somebody had been sniffing around my place and setting up magic spells. But after nearly being drowned in my bathtub, I considered that some magical protection voodoo might be nice. “Well, thanks, I guess. But if there are wards protecting my apartment, I don’t think you need to be out here. I can take care of myself, and fae are being targeted right now.”

The man laughed, exposing white teeth with incisors that were just a little too long. “Your concern is touching, but there’s no reason to worry. This is my job, and besides, I’m an iron fae.” He thumped his chest. “Nothing can cut me.”

“An iron fae?” My brow furrowed as I tried to figure that one out. “What, does that mean your skin is made of iron? How does that even work if the fae are allergic to iron?”

“My kind are an anomaly amongst the fair folk,” my new guard said. “A scientist would say we are a genetic mutation—nature’s attempt to help the fae adapt in this world full of steel and glass and iron bars that the humans are building.” His upper lip curled. “There is a reason we prefer smaller towns and cities.”