Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense (14 page)

He swore. It was all starting to make sense. How had he never made that connection before?

Blowing out a breath, he found his wallet and pulled everything out looking for the small photo he’d always carried in it. It was a picture of him and his brother taken about a year before Zach had left home. When he’d been younger, he’d looked at the picture a lot. He hadn’t even thought about it for years though. Where was it?

She said to tell you, ‘The picture you’ve been looking for is in the trunk in the attic.’

The memory of Alexandra’s words slammed into him with the force of punch in his solar plexus. She’d claimed the words had come from his mother. He laughed nervously. He hadn’t been looking for a picture, had thought she was crazy, but now—

Fifteen minutes later, Dylan sat on his attic floor with the picture in his hand.

Any doubts he’d had about Alexandra King were gone, right along with any hope he’d had of sleep.

***

Things were getting more difficult, and yes, he knew he only had himself to blame for that.

The Grim Reaper tugged off the gloves and hat he’d been wearing and tossed them onto his dining room table. He carefully retrieved the hypodermic needle encased inside his jacket pocket and hid it in a cookie jar. He lived alone, so no one would bother it but him.

His kill tonight had been a failure. He’d had to postpone it when he’d done a preliminary walk past his planned site of display and seen a patrol car parked in front of the area.

He’d walked past each of the sites on his list. Police were watching each one.

Not to worry.

Charleston was full of haunted locations. Either the police would give up and leave a site vulnerable, or he’d find a lesser known location to use as his playground.

Leaving the TV volume turned up loud so he could hear it, he stepped into the next room and felt his heartbeat begin to race, the sound thrumming in his ears, drowning out the early morning news anchor’s voice. His plan was precise. The least disruption could ruin everything.

He turned on his lamp and leaned over his desk where the map was spread out with his notes marked cleanly in the corners. Each location was important. He’d spent months determining them and verifying that they matched his drawing to the degree.

Five locations. Five points on the map.

He’d only managed to mark off four so far, including the one the police hadn’t yet linked to him. His first. It had been his test run. Excitement chased away his anxiety as he remembered how easy it had been.

He’d been so afraid, that first time, but he’d gotten away with it. No one had ever suspected him.

Now he only needed one more. One more death to complete the pentagram on the map. One more victim before he could move onto his grand finale.

His original plan had been to make Collins his fifth but now his plans had changed. Hearing the TV news reporter say the same name he’d been considering only seemed to validate that he already knew who the fifth victim should be.

“No one at the private security firm where Alexandra King works could be reached for comment.”

Alexandra King.

She’d make the perfect fifth. A fitting tribute.

And figuring out how to lure her into his trap would be exactly the challenge he needed to occupy his thoughts until the police got lazy.

His lips tugged against the small scar on his cheek as they spread into a smile.

Now all he had to do was plan, and wait.

“Tell me again why we’re here.” Dylan held the door open to the Mystic Corner and gestured Alexandra inside.

“I never told you why. I just told you to trust me.” She smiled as she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and brushed past him. Truly, it spoke volumes that he hadn’t grumbled too much when she’d asked him to drive her to the occult store after picking her up this morning.

Dylan sighed and glanced around. “Charming place.”

He reached to touch one of the small shrunken heads hanging on a display, his hand hesitating before pulling back and sliding into his pocket. He kept one eyebrow arched as he skimmed the section of antique-looking Ouija boards. Alexandra didn’t have to be psychic to read his mind. He thought this place was as strange as a fish on a bike.

The friendlier of the two young men she remembered from the day before was stacking items on a shelf. Alexandra moved closer and tapped him on the shoulder.

The young dark-skinned man did a double-take then smiled when he recognized her. “Hey! Meemaw said you’d be back.”

Did she now? “Rex, is your grandmother available?”

He glanced over her shoulder at Dylan. His smile dimmed, but he nodded. “Just go in the back. I think they’re expecting you.”

“They?”

He only nodded in reply.

Alexandra hurried to the back curtained-off room, expecting that Dylan would follow. She’d decided it would be better for him to see certain things firsthand rather than attempt to explain anything about the black-eyed demon lady.

Barbara was leaning over, churning at the contents of a small marble bowl and murmuring what sounded like a prayer from the Bible. She didn’t look up as Alexandra then Dylan stepped into the small space.

The young sandy-haired man with the neck tattoo sat on the corner of the desk, not the least bit surprised to see her. He gave her a slight wave. “Name’s Connor.”

She waved back. “Alexandra.”

Barbara raised her voice when she said, “Go on. Ax’me.”

Alexandra turned her attention to the black woman and smiled. “You know why I’m here.”

“Chil’, I ‘spect ya last night.” She stopped churning and reached for a pouch. “Ya need annuddah one, right? Gave yours away?”

Alexandra rolled her eyes. “You know, Barbara, I have a much easier time understanding you when you’re not putting on.”

Barbara cackled in that quirky way she did. “Don’t spoil my fun, child.” She lifted her gaze toward Dylan. “Introduce me to this fine-looking man of yours.”

She did, stepping back to allow Barbara to accept and then cling to Dylan’s handshake a little longer than was appropriate. Her brown eyes danced with mischief as she looked him up and down carefully. “Mmmm-mmm. Seen you in a dream. You’re hunting him, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Dylan said, taking a step closer to Alexandra, his gaze zeroing in on the bookshelf where mason jars with hand-written labels revealed an assortment of strange ingredients. Gum Arabic. Lovage root chips. Cinnamon oil. A bunch of other things Alexandra herself didn’t recognize.

“Calls himself the Reaper.” Barbara turned her back to them and began cleaning up the area she’d just been using. “Saw that in my dream too. Plus, it was on the news this morning.”

But Alexandra’s attention had caught and held on that mention of a dream. “Barbara, what did you see in your vision?”

“Saw you and him.” She turned and nodded at Dylan, then shifted back to her work. “You’re getting closer to finding the man you’re looking for. You’re figuring it out. Only a matter of time now.”

Alexandra hadn’t figured out a darn thing when it came to the killer. Well, other than he was a real nutjob who probably had a demonic parasite steering his ride on the crazy bus.

“Did you see the killer in your dream? Can you tell us anything about him?” Alexandra stepped closer.

Barbara shuffled around the desk and returned some items to a drawer. “He’s surrounded by the darkness. Too much darkness. Couldn’t see his face.”

Alexandra wondered if the frustration building in her chest was the same as what her clients felt when she was unable to give them absolute information from her visions and feelings. She sympathized enough to know Barbara was only telling them what she did know. Which wasn’t much.

Barbara pushed a drawer closed and straightened. Her caramel eyes locked onto Alexandra’s. “You be careful, child. He’s gonna come after you, and ain’t nothing you can do to stop that but be prepared.”

Dylan’s body pushed against Alexandra’s as he stepped forward. “What do you mean by that?”

Barbara’s hands found her hips as she looked Dylan up and down again, her expression surprised. “I mean what I said.”

Dylan didn’t back down. “How should she prepare?”

The older woman gestured to the bag Alexandra now held and addressed her directly. “Keep that close. Keep your fine man closer.” She tapped the side of her head. “Keep your wits about you.”

“Can I get—?” Alexandra’s words were interrupted by Barbara’s.

“Only one bag this time. No more.”

“Why not?” Too late, she realized she might have sounded like a petulant child.

The older woman chuckled. “Out of ingredients.”

Alexandra bit her bottom lip to keep from asking for a list of ingredients so she could replenish them for the woman. She’d hoped to get protection for Dylan, too, but she sensed she’d be overstepping if she asked for a recipe. Alexandra held up the small pouch the woman had given her and smiled. “Thank you. I’ll find a way to repay you for this.”

The young man in the room—Alexandra had all but forgotten he was there—straightened and held out a piece of paper to her. She took it and saw a phone number scribbled on it.

“It’s my number,” he said. “You might need it.”

Dylan’s hands on her hips tugged her back against him. “Why would she need it?”

Oooh. Jealous, much? Alexandra smiled as she tucked the paper into her purse.

“Have you ever heard of the Bellator de Lux?” Connor asked.

Alexandra recognized the words from her studies of Latin. “Warrior of light?”

His brow lifted. “Very good. It’s also the name of an organization I belong to. I came to Charleston to help—” his gaze moved to Barbara’s, “—with a peculiar anomaly. I think Miss King knows what I’m referring to.”

Alexandra glanced up at Dylan and back to Connor again. “The gray beams?”

“It’s a portal of some kind. I’m here to close it.” He shrugged. “I haven’t been too successful in finding it so far, but Barbara tells me you’ve seen it. When you’re not so busy catching a serial killer, maybe we can chat.” He gestured toward Alexandra’s purse. “And I was giving the number to Dylan, not you. He’s the one who’ll probably need it.”

“Oh.” Alexandra dug the paper out and handed it to Dylan. It was her turn to feel the sting of jealousy until Connor leaned over and stage whispered, “Don’t worry. I’m not gay. Just someone who happens to know a lot about exorcisms.”

“Exorcisms?” Dylan’s voice was amused now.

Connor crossed his arms. “When you find the killer, he’s going to need one.”

Barbara’s hearty laugh drowned any chance Alexandra had for more questions. The woman shooed them away with a nod and wave of her hand. “Go on. You two got work to do.”

Dylan waited until they were back in his car to speak again. After putting the key in the ignition, he sent her a sideways look that suggested he was not amused. “Do I even want to know what any of that was about?”

She shook her head and fought a smile. “Have you checked on Reedus today?”

He steered the car toward traffic. “First thing. He sounded better. A lot better.”

Alexandra had already checked on the older detective, too, and she would have said he sounded
amazingly
better. Reedus had told her his doctors were dumbfounded at his progress. He’d asked, “You think this weird lil bag you gave me helped?”

Not that she discounted the power of medicine, but yeah, she did. Her theory had been right. Whatever was in that little bag worked.

She felt its slight weight in her hand and lifted it to her nose for a sniff. A touch of sandalwood. Maybe some sage. Nothing too noticeable. She’d worn jeans today, and it was a tight fit, but she managed to stuff the new pouch into her front pocket. Who cared if there was a slight, unflattering bulge? She wasn’t taking any chance of dropping it or leaving it behind somewhere.

For the next two hours, she and Dylan met with different employees of ghost tour companies, trying to determine if any were suspect or had noticed any customers who were.

Nothing stood out.

Alexandra did notice something, though. There were no ghosts. And she’d specifically opened herself to communication before getting out of the car earlier.

“Lunch?” Dylan asked after they’d finished their last interview. “There’s a great deli right around the corner.”

Alexandra stopped and glanced in the other direction from which he’d gestured. She was starting to get a feel for the area. “Can we go back to the brewery?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

She shook her head. She had another theory she wanted to test, but for fun, she lifted a hand to her chest and tried to look horrified. “But they have the most incredible soup. I’ve been
dreaming
about that soup.”

Dylan came as close to rolling his eyes as she’d ever seen—was he mocking her now?— and motioned her to lead the way.

A few minutes later they walked inside the all-too familiar restaurant amidst the lunch crowd. Alexandra glanced around, looking for a certain dead person wearing a bowler hat. George was nowhere to be seen.

A host seated them and Dylan hung his coat on the back of his chair. “Bathroom break. Order me a burger if the waiter comes.”

That had been her plan, but he beat her to it. She grabbed his wrist before he could get far, dug into her jeans for the pouch, and slid it into his hand. “Take this and don’t lose it. Please?”

He pushed his hand back toward her. “Aren’t you supposed to keep this close at all times?”

She gestured to the crowded room. “We’re in a public place. I’m safe for the moment. Please, just take it. I need to talk to George.”

Shaking his head in disapproval, he shrugged and pushed the small sack into his front pocket. “Don’t move from this spot.” He pointed at her chair. “I mean it.”

She watched as he disappeared toward the restrooms, and waited. One. Two. Three…

“Been wonderin’ when you’d turn back up.” The familiar voice accompanied a warm breath on the back of her neck. She turned to see George sitting ridiculously close in a chair at the next table. He smiled big and leaned back away from her. “Did ya catch that guy ya were after?”

Never mind that. Keeping her voice barely above a whisper, she slid into the chair to her left so she was facing him and the window, and asked, “Why couldn’t I see you when I came in?”

He crinkled his nose and pushed his hat back off his brow a little. “Sorry to be direct, lass, but ya stank. I was keepin’ my distance.”

“I stank?” She hadn’t smelled anything nasty. What the heck was in that pouch?

“Have ya ever tangled with a skunk?” A shudder racked his very solid body. “Woo-wee. This is worse. Absolutely foul, if ya ask me. No thanks.”

“You’re still there, but you just chose not to come near me?” She’d been wondering if the ingredients harmed spirits or simply repelled them. Great. Barbara had given her Ghost Away.

George shrugged. “I smelled ya before ya came through the doors. I like ya, but uh, that odor is pretty ripe.”

Ripe enough to repel a demon?

“George, do you know what a demon is?”

He looked offended. “Course I do.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s just like the good Bible says—” She held up her hand, stopping him from launching into a religious tirade. He didn’t know. She suspected not many ghosts did. Otherwise, they’d all be eager to cross over.

“Have you ever seen one in here?”

His brow came together. “What do ya mean?”

She briefly explained about the black-eyed old woman.

He scratched his chin. “Know what? I think I might have seen her too. Her eyes aren’t black though. An older woman, looks like my granny, stern and scary. I try to stay away from her cause she seems like a handful.”

“You aren’t afraid of her?” Rebecca and the other ghost had seemed terrified. Terrified enough to skedaddle when the old woman came around.

George scoffed. “Me? I ain’t afraid of nothin’ much, miss. Besides, she’s never been too interested in me.”

“Does she come in often?” If the demon was attached to their killer, maybe they could trace a pattern out of his visits here and set a trap.

“Come to think of it, I usually see her on Wednesdays and Sundays, right before closin’.”

Oh, she could kiss him! As luck would have it, tomorrow was Wednesday.

“Know what? There is something that scares me. That smell.” George shifted in his seat. “Matter of fact, that fella ya came in with is about to head this way. Stinks up the place, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave now.”

“Wait!” She reached for George’s arm before thinking of the consequences. The older couple at the table beside them was now openly watching her, she realized. She dropped his arm, smiled and picked up her menu. At least it was so busy the waiter hadn’t appeared to take her order yet. She tried to speak through her teeth as she pretended to skim the menu. “I need to ask you a favor before you go.”

“Make it quick then.”

She gave up on the trying to talk-through-her-teeth thing. Too hard. “Can you ask around for me?” She knew most ghosts recognized one another for what they were. “Ask if the other spirits around here can help us find the man we were chasing the other night. I know they’ve had to see him. We need details. What does he look like? What’s his name? Where does he live?”

“Who are you talking to?” Dylan asked.

Lowering her menu, Alexandra glanced up just as Dylan pulled his chair out and sat down beside her. She glanced around, but George was gone.

Dammit.

Dylan arched a brow as he pushed his menu aside. “Very funny.”

“What?”