Shattered Souls (11 page)

Celeste nodded. Her gaze slid to Jason, who gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged.

“Sorry. It seemed like the time to let her know,” he murmured.

Celeste arched a dark brow and tsked.

Feeling restless and angry, Cait brushed past Celeste and raked aside the lines of beads shielding Celeste’s reading room. The other two trailed behind her. Once inside, she flopped down in a seat at the round table covered in a silk scarf with a large crystal ball at its center.

The other two sat, eying her warily.

“So how long have you two known each other?”

Celeste waved a hand. “Since Jason’s brush wit’ a skin-walker.”

“A skin-walker?” A child’s fairy tale, or so she’d thought. But looking at Jason’s grim expression and Celeste’s steady gaze, she knew it was real. “Your shooting?” she asked Jason.

“Yes. The kid in the alley.”

“Not just a boy necking with his girlfriend?”

“A demon, drainin’ a girl o’ her life force,” Celeste said softly, smiling at Jason. “The skin-walker was vulnerable, let his mask slip.”

“His face…” Jason shook his head. “He was a monster, and about to slash her throat, although she wasn’t aware. I let the drug dealer go and shot the kid. I didn’t know killing him would release the demon. He escaped, slithering out of the boy’s body. The girl was hysterical. I tried to stem the bleeding, but he was already gone. And I couldn’t defend myself when I went before the board. I knew I’d look like a nut. So I lied. Then started searching for answers.”

Celeste gestured to Jason. “He wandered into my shop. The moment I held his hand, I saw everyt’ing what happened.”

“I’m not saying I believed her at first,” Jason said. “But since then, it’s like having a veil lifted. I see monsters everywhere.”

Feeling sick, Cait nodded. “Demons. Jesus. Morin said it was likely a demon commanding wraiths. How do we go on, Tante? I don’t know how to fight this.”

“You must determine the demon’s nature. Who he is, or was.”

“That’s helpful,” Cait grumbled.

“You followin’ da right path. Once you know more, go to Morin.”

Morin. Cait firmed her lips into a straight line. She didn’t like having to depend on him again. He’d let her down once before, when she’d needed him most. Wasn’t there some other sorcerer who could help her?

“There be no one else, darlin’.”

Cait glared. “I hate it when you do that.”

Her “aunt” smiled. “Someone has to see inside your head. So much goin’ on.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is it smart gettin’ so close to your ex again?”

A flush of heat filled Cait’s cheeks. Her relationship with Sam was not up for discussion. “Time to go,” she said, pushing up from the table.

With a graceful move, Celeste plucked a purple satin bag from a cupboard. “No time for me to read your cards?”

“We’re wasting daylight.”

Ignoring her, Celeste spilled the tarot deck into one hand and fanned them out. “Choose one. Let’s look ahead.”

Cait had never liked the cards. Never trusted them, because the meanings seemed to change at the reader’s will. And yet she found herself tapping the edges of the cards until she found one that felt right. She slipped it from the deck and laid it on the table, her finger holding it down. Her stomach knotted as she recognized the picture.

“
La Roue de Fortune.
” Celeste slid the card from beneath Cait’s finger. “Reversed. It’s not all bad,
chérie
.”

The Wheel of Fortune, reversed. It meant bad luck.

“A reversal, yes,” Celeste murmured.

Cait glared. “Misfortune. Failure. A dead fucking end.”

Celeste tilted her head. “But also a chance to test yourself. To find your inner strength.” Her gaze narrowed. “Were you thinkin’ ’bout the case or your ex?”

In playing along, Cait hadn’t been thinking about anything other than humoring Celeste. Or had she? Did some part of her, deep inside, really hope for a better answer? An omen that things—the case, her involvement with Sam—would somehow turn out all right? “I wasn’t thinking about anything at all.”

Celeste laughed. “Jus’ be sure you guard your heart,
ma petite
.” Her pointed look swung to Jason. “She needs someone who believes guardin’ her back.”

Jason nodded and stood. He bent to kiss Celeste’s cheek.

The medium gave his cheek a fond pat.

Cait shook her head and walked straight out the door without a farewell. She was too angry, too hurt to muster up a gesture, even though she loved Celeste like family.

Her PI job had been a total setup—something no doubt engineered by Morin and carried out by her mother’s best friend. Morin had looked out for her even after she’d spurned him.

Warmth spilled into her chest, but she didn’t trust the accompanying emotion. Too much hurt lay in her past, and she was far from ready to forgive.

Chapter Ten

Sam ran up the stairs to the Delta Detective Agency, heart pounding in his chest. Something in Cait’s voice when she’d called to say they had a development in the case set the hairs on the back of his neck rising. She’d been cagey about details. A little breathless. Said he needed to come. Just like that, he’d hauled ass to get here.

At the frosted glass door to the agency he paused, pulled on his neutral game face, and pretended he hadn’t had his heart in this throat. Then he reached out and turned the knob.

Inside, he strode through the tiny reception area where no receptionist had ever sat, down the tacky olive-green-carpeted, wood-paneled corridor, to Cait’s cubbyhole of an office. But he heard her voice, farther down, speaking softly in bullet-like gusts.

The words “wraiths” and “Worthen family” drifted through the closed door of Jason’s office. He rapped twice on the wood and then twisted the knob.

Inside, Cait stood behind Jason, who was seated at his desk, a Google screen pulled up on the computer. Her hand was on his shoulder, and she stood close staring at the screen. Closer than Sam liked.

Cait glanced toward the door. Her face was pale, her mouth set in a grim line. She was dirty and disheveled but seemed well enough.

Internally, he drew a deep sigh.

“You finally made it,” she muttered. A small frown drew her brows together.

If she could muster a complaint, she was doing just fine. “I’m kinda busy,” Sam said, his voice a deep grumble. “Murder investigation, you know?”

She sniffed and then held out a crumpled scrap of paper.

He took it and scanned the names of family members. “Worthen” was scrawled across the top. “What’s this?”

“A list we found in Lisa’s apartment.”

Anger tightening his shoulders, Sam shook his head. “You’ve been there? My team’s combing it now. You tamper with anything else?”

“We had her parents’ permission.” Cait shrugged. “We didn’t disturb a thing, other than taking this list and her day planner. We wanted a jump on the investigation, to get a head start finding her.”

He fisted his hands on his hips. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Her head lowered. Her scowl deepened. “Guess I’m out of practice telling you every damn thing I’m doing.”

Why was it always like this with them? Simple, calm conversation was impossible. Caitlyn O’Connell was one stubborn, hardheaded woman. How’d he forget that? He blew out an exasperated breath. “You called. Said you had a development. This it?” he asked, waving the paper.

The fine lines at the corners of her eyes deepened. “We found them. They’re a family buried at Edgemont.”

“And?” Sam shook his head. “You didn’t call me down here to say you found some graves. How long have they been dead?”

“Around a hundred fifty years.”

Jason and Cait shared a charged glance—she, aiming a glare and shaking her head. Jason’s eyes bugged as though telling her to spill.

Her shoulders fell, and she turned back to Sam. “It’s what happened when we got to their graves that was interesting.”

Interesting?
He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t drive all the way over here for you two to play Twenty Questions.”

Jason sat forward, excitement gleaming in his eyes. “Man, you should have been there.” His face turned a little red, like he knew how uncool he’d sounded. He shrugged and leaned lazily back. “We got chased through the cemetery by statues jumping off tombs and wraiths trying to freeze our asses.”

Sam forced himself not to react, although a tic began to pulse beside his eye. Part of him—the part that lived in the real world and wanted to ask what they’d both been smoking but had already seen more than he was comfortable processing—had him curling his lips. “Right.” He aimed a glare at Cait. “Does this mean another trip to your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Cait shoved both hands into her pockets. “I think it means we need to do some more old-fashioned investigation. The Worthens have been dead since the Civil War, but we don’t know how they’re connected to our case. Lisa’s parents said she was working on a dig. Jason and I looked up the archeology professor, Lisa’s dean, and we think he might help us connect the dots.”

Jason cleared his throat. “I’m gonna follow up with some of her friends from her Facebook page. You two should hit the university.”

Cait chewed her bottom lip. “We thought it would be a good idea—”

“We?” Jason drawled.

She wrinkled her nose. “OK,
Jason
thought it would be a good idea to keep you in the loop. Be more efficient. That way we won’t follow leads you’ve already determined are dead ends and vice versa.”

Sam nodded, eyeing them both and noting the hint of militancy in the hard set of Cait’s jaw. She wasn’t happy about it. He smiled. “Why don’t you give the professor a call and tell him we’re coming, Jason.”

Jason flashed him a grin. “On it. You two play nice.”

Sam narrowed his gaze. “Should I ask why you’re both covered in dirt?”

“Better you don’t.” Cait grimaced. “Not unless you want to know we spent time holed up in a crypt.”

“Yeah, not gonna touch that one.” He swept a hand toward the door. “Cait?”

She eased past him, and he closed the door behind them both. Then he reached out and brushed dust off her shoulders. “Maybe we should hit your apartment first so you can change.”

She gave him a sideways grin. “You’re so gonna want to wash your hands.”

Sam sat on Cait’s bed while she showered for the second time that day. Jason had called Dr. Thurgood, Lisa’s dean at the university, who’d agreed to speak with them as soon as classes let out for the day. Sam had checked in with his detectives, who were following up leads on two more missing girls. They hadn’t yet found anything connecting them to Lisa’s disappearance other than the fact they were in the same age group—and they’d gone missing on the very same day.

With the lieutenant making noise about calling in an FBI profiler, things were getting more complicated with each passing second.

Almost as complicated were his feelings for the woman who’d stripped to the skin without a single blush as she’d brushed past him to step into the shower.

He wanted to ask about the cemetery, but she’d been tight-lipped in the car. Which had his belly boiling. Something had happened. Something that scared her.

“Really wanna go there?” she’d asked.

Grunting, he’d tightened his hands around the wheel. “I only need to know what’s pertinent to the investigation.” He’d lied, because as much as he wanted to know what had frightened her, he wanted to give her time to get back in control. Keeping her fear in check was important to Cait.

“The list was all that’s
pertinent
, Detective,” she’d said, her voice clipped. But then she’d flashed him a bleak smile. “Sorry, I’m a little keyed up. Don’t know what it has to do with anything, but creepy shit happened as soon as we got there. Guess that’s a clue all by itself. It says the Worthens and Lisa are connected. We just have to figure out how.”

So he’d held back the questions he’d wanted to bark about why they both looked rumpled and dirty. Why Jason had been wearing only socks on his feet, one muddy. Why her face was white and her jaw tight, but he didn’t really want to know, because then he’d be drawn into whatever weird-ass magical thing had happened. And he decided he’d had enough. For now.

It was happening again. He was getting close. Worrying about her. No, scared shitless for her. He’d been down that path before. He tightened his tie.

All Sam wanted was to solve the case, wrap it up with a plain and simple bow, and kiss her good-bye. Again.

Only he was pretty sure he’d want to do more than kiss her. The thought of all that creamy flesh, sinewy muscle, and curves slick with soap made his mouth water and had his dick throbbing—a permanent condition whenever he was in touching distance of his ex.

“You ’bout finished up in there?” he shouted toward the bathroom.

“You try to wash corpse dust from your hair,” she hollered back.

What the hell?
His jaw grew slack. He glanced down at his hands, then scooted off the bed to head to the kitchen sink.

In the distance he heard the shower stop and the shower curtain swish open. Hands gripping the sink, he fought not to head straight to the bedroom for another glimpse of her nude body as she pulled open drawers and dressed.