shadows of salem 01 - shadow born (9 page)

“When one’s job is to shepherd the Lord’s flock, it is difficult not to run across His enemies.” Father James sat, gesturing for me to do the same. “Thankfully, I’ve learned that the fae are highly susceptible to iron, so I had a gunsmith specially craft these bullets for me.” He pulled a small wooden box from one of his drawers, then pushed it across the table to me. “Take these. You’ll need them.”

I popped open the box to find twenty bullets neatly nestled into grooves carved into the wood. “Oh no,” I said, pushing it back toward him. “I couldn’t.”

He pressed his hand gently over mine. “I insist. I have plenty more, and I suspect you’re going to need them more than I do.”

The ring on his third finger brushed against my skin, and I got a flash.

Crunching metal. Blood. Skidding wheels. A scream.

A car accident,
I thought as it faded away, looking at him with a new light. One that had almost killed him.

“All right,” I said, slowly pulling the box back toward me. “I’ll take them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Father James smiled. “I can’t count on being around the corner the next time you run into a fae, so I’ll feel better knowing you have those.”

Nodding, I tucked the box into one of my inner jacket pockets, then settled back in my chair. The large cross hanging from the wall caught my eye again, and my fingers fluttered to the one hanging from my neck. Being in the church was a comfort, even if I wasn’t in the nave itself, because Tom had been very religious. I’d gone to church with him every Sunday, so I couldn’t help but feel his presence in this place and wonder if he was watching down on me.

“Did you know a Tom Garrison?” I wondered aloud.

Father James’s eyebrows shot up. “Why, yes. He was a special member of my flock,” he added, his eyes sparkling with fond memories. “Did you know him?”

“He was my fiancé,” I told him around the lump that swelled in my throat.

His eyes widened. “Oh, you’re Brooke Chandler!”

I nodded, just now realizing I’d been too shaken up to introduce myself sooner.

“Tom told me a lot of good things about you when he came back to Salem to help the local police with that old case.” His expression grew somber. “I was very sorry to hear that he passed in such a terrible manner.”

“Me too.” I hesitated, wondering if I should mention what I’d found. But hell, he already knew about this hokey shit, didn’t he? “I went to the motel where it happened and asked if I could check out the room, but the clerk told me there had never been any fire and he couldn’t remember Tom.”

Father James sat up straight in his seat, his dark eyebrows pulling together in a troubled frown. “That’s not right,” he protested. “Tom’s death was all over the local news.”

“Right?” I slapped the top of his desk, then winced as an elephant-shaped paperweight trembled. “Sorry. But it didn’t make any sense, and when I had the clerk open up the room, it was pristine. Like nothing had ever happened.” I searched his troubled gaze. “Do you think this could be something…supernatural?”

“It’s quite possible,” Father James conceded. “A fae could have done it, or perhaps even a vengeful spirit. I’ve banished my fair share of wraiths from the homes of desperate parishioners during my time here.”

“Banished wraiths?” I leaned in, eager to know more. This was the first person with knowledge of the supernatural I’d run into who was actually willing to talk to me, and I was going to soak up every bit of knowledge I could. “How do you do that?”

“Banishing evil spirits takes a level of skill that cannot be taught in a single conversation,” Father James said lightly. “However, if you should run across one, a little prayer and faith will go a long way. Simply focus all your willpower and shout
“Capsicum annuum!”
as loudly as you can. You have to really mean it, but if you do it right, you should render the wraith immobile. If you need help after that, give me a call, and I’ll come banish it permanently.”

“Thanks. That’s really good to know.” I hesitated. “Does Guy know about this stuff? He never mentioned anything.”

Faather James shook his head. “I think it’s best we not mention this to my brother. Not everyone can see these things the way you and I do, and I’ve learned the hard way that you can bring more trouble to your door than is worth it by forcing people to see when they’re not ready to.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I agreed. Was that what Oscar thought? That I hadn’t been ready to know the truth? Look where that kind of thinking had landed me.

I glanced at my watch, then rose. “I should get going. Thank you for saving me, and for taking the time to answer my questions.” I held out a hand. “Maybe we’ll cross paths again.”

“I would very much like that.” Father James rose, then shook my hand with a smile. “Be careful with your investigation into Tom’s death, Brooke. If my hunch is right and the supernatural are involved, things could get very dangerous for you.”

I thanked him again, then hoofed it home as fast as I could without breaking into a run. I made sure to stick to well-lit areas, not wanting to run into another shade, or any other type of fae, really. I might have some new iron bullets, but that didn’t mean I wanted to confront creatures that I still knew little about.

Once I was safely behind the locked door of my apartment, I whipped out my phone and called Uncle Oscar. I hadn’t intended on calling him so soon since I knew how he felt about me coming out here, but after the day I had, I wanted to hear a familiar voice.

“Hey kid,” he said, and his deep, gruff voice was like a balm to my frazzled nerves.

“Hey Uncle.” I sat down heavily on the couch. “How’s it going?”

“That’s what I should be asking you. Last we spoke, I thought I might not be hearing from you again for a while. You were pretty upset.”

I snorted. “If you’d really been worried about me, you’d have blown up my phone with calls and text messages.”

Uncle Oscar let out a gusty sigh. “True. I figured you were probably just simmering down after our last argument.”

“You could say that.” I let out a sigh of my own.

We’d fought bitterly before I left, had both flung barbs at each other that still stung whenever I thought about them too much. So I hadn’t thought about it, had shoved it aside so I could focus on what mattered. Finding Tom.

“So, how is it going?” Uncle Oscar asked. “Made some good use of your vamp gun yet?”

“No, actually,” I admitted. “But I did get into a fight with a shade tonight.”

The phone went silent for several seconds before Uncle Oscar exploded. “What the hell?” he shouted, and I winced as my ear rang. “What do you mean you got into a fight with a shade? You’re not trained to fight shades! You’re not supposed to even know what they are!”

“Calm down!” I ordered, hardening my voice. “I survived, okay? A priest came around the corner and shot him with some iron bullets. He gave me some, and now I know what to do next time. In fact, this might have been less of an issue if you’d
prepared
me for such a scenario!” A scathing tone entered my voice.

There was a sharp intake of breath, then a long silence. “Jesus, kid. Just what the hell are you getting into over there?” Oscar finally asked.

I told him everything—Captain Randall’s refusal to let me work the case, Detective Baxter’s strange inability to remember my fiancé even though everybody knew him, my encounter with Maddock Tremaine at his strange club, the motel room that was mysteriously untouched by the fire that had reportedly killed Tom, and my run-in with the shade and the priest.

“The more time I spend here, the more I’m convinced that Tom got mixed up with the supernatural community here, and it got him killed,” I finished.

“Damn right it did.” Uncle Oscar growled. “And if you keep this up, it’s going to get you killed, too.”

“Uncle Oscar—”

“Come home, kid.” There was a strange note beneath his voice, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounded like a plea. “Get out of that crazy town before you end up the same way Tom did. You’re in way over your head, and you know it.”

“I’m
not
coming home.” I dug my free hand into the couch cushions. “I didn’t come all the way out here to turn tail and run at the first sight of supernatural activity— after all, I came here
looking
for it. I’ve
always
known there were things—supernatural things—besides vampires. It’s about time I found out what they are.”

“No, it’s not!” Uncle Oscar’s voice bubbled with frustration. “Not like this! Come home, Brooke. Come back to Chicago, let me give you a little more training. You’re not ready to deal with this stuff.”

The use of my name, plus the offer to train, gave me pause. But then I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head. “You had your chance to train me, Uncle Oscar, and instead you decided to keep me in the dark. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I’m a grown woman now. I don’t need you making my decisions for me.”

“You’re being incredibly foolish. If you’d just let me give you some more training—”

“And how exactly do I know that you’re even going to give me this training when I come back?” I demanded. “How do I know that you’re not going to try and lock me up or convince me to abandon my investigation into Tom’s death?”

The ringing silence on the other end of the line was all I needed to hear.

“That’s what I thought,” I said quietly, my heart aching. I’d hoped that Uncle Oscar would deny it, but he was too brutally honest for that. He might have intended to train me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything in his power to prevent me from going back to Salem afterward. “I’m not doing this with you, Uncle Oscar. Not anymore. Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone, let a single tear trail down my cheek, then wiped it away.

No more tears. No more guilt. Finding out the truth about what happened to Tom meant I had to let go of everything that was holding me back, and if that included cutting my ties with Uncle Oscar, then that was what I’d do.

CHAPTER 10

I
’d barely settled down after my phone call with Uncle Oscar when my front door buzzer sounded. After the day I’d had, I considered ignoring it. But curiosity trumped my desire to be alone—after all, I was new in town. Who on earth would be knocking on my door?

Switching the burner underneath my pot of marinara sauce to low, I stepped away from the stove and peered through the peephole. Shelley was standing on the other side, looking nervously down the hall, and the strain on her face suggested she wasn’t here for a social visit.

Sighing, I disengaged the locks and opened the door. “Hey, Shelley. What’s up?”

“Brooke.” Her voice brimmed with both relief and anxiety—she’d probably been worried I wasn’t home. “Sorry, I mean Detective. I should be calling you Detective, right? But I don’t remember your last name…”

“It’s Chandler.” I gently took her by the shoulder and led her into my living room. “But it doesn’t matter; you can call me Brooke. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“I…” Shelley allowed me to steer her to the sofa, and she sat beside me, folding her hands neatly into her lap. “It might be nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s got you worried enough to come to a cop’s doorstep.”

She let out a sigh and twisted a strand of her long hair around a finger. “It’s my eldest son, Jason. He’s acting very secretive, refusing to let me in his room, giving me strange glances, clamming up when I ask him questions about his day. And he’s been staying out late, very late. I…I think he’s mixed up in some kind of gang.”

“Huh.” I frowned, thinking over the small bits of information she’d given me. “Are you sure it’s a gang, and not just a group of friends? I mean, no offense, but what you’ve described to me sounds like common teenage behavior.”

Shelley bit her lip. “That’s true…but there’s been other things, too. He’s been wearing scarves and using makeup to hide injuries. And one time, I walked in the kitchen at one in the morning to find him washing what looked like
blood
off his hands.” She shuddered. “He refused to discuss it with me, of course, and just stalked back into his room and slammed the door in my face. I’ve tried grounding him, but I’ve got so much to do with working full-time and taking care of Tyler…” Her voice grew thick, and she wiped at a tear sliding down her cheek. “He blames me.”

“Blames you? For what?”

She sniffed back more tears. “His father died last year. Killed in an accident.” Her eyes flicked away, then back again. “He was abusive, and a drunkard…but he and Jason loved each other. He doesn’t say it anymore, but I know he thinks that if I’d tried harder, if I’d just pushed David to get treatment, that everything would have been okay.”

“You and I both know that’s not true,” I said calmly, pushing down the anger rising in my throat. “You were the victim, Shelley. His behavior was not your fault.”

“Maybe,” Shelley whispered, eyes downcast. She clenched her fists in her lap, and her voice grew stronger. “Maybe, but if I’m honest with myself, I didn’t want to help David. Not after all the bruises, all the broken bones, all the tears. I just wanted to leave him. And that’s why I can’t face the look in Jason’s eyes sometimes. Because I know that in a way, he’s right. I didn’t try to get David help.”

“Shelley, look at me.” I placed a hand on her trembling thigh and waited until her tear-filled eyes met my steady ones. “How long were you married to David?”

She sniffed. “Fifteen years.”

“So I think it’d be safe to say you knew him pretty well then, huh?”

“Better than anyone else.” An ugly note entered her voice. “He put on an act for the world, made himself appear to be the doting father and husband, the hard-working man. He saved the real David for when we were behind closed doors.”

“Right. So in your estimation, do you think that David would have listened to your suggestion to seek treatment, or go after it himself?”

Shelley was quiet for a moment. “No,” she said eventually, shaking her head. “No. He would have beaten me for suggesting it.”

“Then put the guilt aside,” I said firmly. “I know it’s hard, but blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault isn’t going to help your son. It sounds like the two of you need to talk out your issues, maybe with a mediator, or that you need to seek help yourselves. I can try to get some recommendations for you, but beyond that, I don’t think I’ll be much help.”