The Cursed (The Unearthly) (3 page)

Chapter 3

I entered Castle
Rushen, the Politia’s headquarters, from its back entrance, mostly to avoid stares. Since Samhain, I’d become infamous for spending an evening with the devil and living to tell the tale. Those who saw me as a victim stared at me with fascination, wondering what I’d experienced that night. And those who thought I was evil, they often glared at me like they wanted to douse me in holy water.

I shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked down a back hallway. Here the smells of mildew, grime, and blood assailed my nostrils.

I passed the training rooms, half tempted to stop and work on my knife-throwing skills. Between my supernatural reflexes and my training with Andre, I had developed wicked accuracy.

Later,
I promised myself.

A side hallway branched to my left, and I couldn’t help the spooked glance I gave it. The cellblock. The cells were officially called neutralization tanks because they were enchanted to strip a being of their powers. That is, if the being could be parted with their powers and live. For some beings, like me, their magic was intrinsically tied to their life force. Neutralization meant death.

I held my breath as I passed the hall, reminding myself of a childhood game I played with my friends when we passed graveyards.
Don’t catch your breath around the dead, lest you want to lose your head.

The truth was, the cellblock smelled even worse than the morgue
—
the permanent stench of fear and anger lingered there, overlaying the more common smells of bodily fluids. I couldn’t stand it.

I made my way to the lobby, where the smell of coffee masked the castle’s less savory scents.

I chewed on my lip, worried that whatever assignment I was being called in on would wipe out my winter vacation. Because I was considered an adult in the supernatural world, they could place me in a fulltime position if they wanted. Then poof, there would go my holiday break. And knowing the Politia, they just might do that now that I’d acquired the title of demonologist.

Once I crossed the lobby, I entered the break room. I poured myself a cup of coffee and peered at a discarded newspaper someone had left. On one of the side columns of the front page, my name jumped out. I picked up the newspaper and skimmed the article.

“Let me save you the pain of reading that,” a familiar voice said from behind me. “Today you’ve been called the devil’s consort, queen of the damned, and
—
my personal favorite
—
the tainted one.”

I glanced up from my reading. Caleb stood in the doorway of the break room. Despite his dimpled smile, I could read the turmoil all over his face. Since that night at the Braaid, something
—
maybe everything
—
about our relationship had changed.

I dropped the newspaper back where I found it. “Have you heard any details on this case?” I asked.

He shook his head. “None.”

The slap of boots against the linoleum sounded in the hallway outside the break room. “Sergeant Fiori, Sergeant Jennings,” Maggie said, poking her head in, “what the hell are you two doing down here? Move it. You’re late, and the chief constable needs to fill you both in before you head out.”

Head out?

Chief Constable Morgan
sat on the edge of his desk. “Two nights ago, a young nephilim woman by the name of Ana Gabor was found dead in the woods outside of Cluj-Napoca, Romania,” he said.

My ears perked up. Romania, Andre’s homeland and the country where a group of vampires were currently gathered. A tight ball of unease coiled itself in my stomach. Could this murder be a result of having too many vampires in one location?

“Nephilim?” Caleb asked.

“Of angelic blood,” the chief constable said. He grabbed two file folders from his desk and passed one to me and the other to Caleb. “Our victim’s throat had been slit and her body drained of most of its blood.”

This all sounded a bit too familiar. “Was it a vampire?” I asked.

The chief constable honed his attention in on me. “That’s for you to figure out.”

I swallowed delicately. I’d been given the title of resident demonologist after the Samhain murders. It was a title that encompassed everything of dark origin, including vampires. No doubt they gave me the title begrudgingly
—
after all, most of my colleagues had studied for years to earn the same status. I guess when evil shit threw itself at you, you either died or became an expert real quick.

I flipped open the file. Paper clipped to it was an image of a beautiful girl with blonde hair, her arms folded across her chest, a noose made of twine wrapped around her neck. Below it her throat was slit. The only other injury appeared to be a stab wound to her heart.

“You two will be working directly with the Romanian branch of the Politia per their request. You’ll be reporting to Inspector Grigori Vasile. He’s the director of international affairs, and he will be your liaison for the duration of your investigation.

I swayed a little on my feet. This was really happening
—
they were giving me a leadership role I didn’t want. Oh holy shitballs. Please no.

Chief Constable Morgan turned his attention to Caleb. “Despite the fact that Gabrielle carries the title of demonologist, as her partner you are fully expected to participate in the investigation.”

Caleb nodded his head eagerly.

The chief constable looked between the two of us. “This is a high priority case, and it could potentially be dangerous. Caleb and Gabrielle, you both have shone remarkable teamwork and talent. Now it’s your chance to shine and prove your worth to the Politia. Think you can handle it?”

No
. I didn’t think I could. Not at all.

“Yes,” Caleb responded for us.

The chief constable’s eyes flicked to me. “Chief Constable,” I said, “I don’t know if I’m ready to take on this kind of responsibility. I’ve only been a part of the Politia for a few months …”

I stopped talking when I heard Caleb hiss in a breath. This was an opportunity for both him and me, and I was ruining it.

The chief constable’s gaze had me shifting my weight. “I’m glad to hear you voice your concerns, and I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “You do not have to take the case, but that decision will likely affect your continued employment here.”

I sucked in my cheeks.

“We cannot just deny a branch of our institution access to one of our experts because she doesn’t feel she’s qualified to do work she’s been given a title for.”

My heart pounded in my chest. If I agreed to this, I’d be willingly immersing myself in the darkness that already sought me out. But if I didn’t, I could kiss my job with the Politia goodbye.

I glanced at Caleb, whose eyes pleaded with me. My decision affected him too. Damn.

Finally, reluctantly, I nodded. “I can handle it,” I said.

“Then congratulations,” Chief Constable Morgan said. “Until the Romanian branch releases you, you are both now officially on the case.”

I could smell Caleb’s excitement. My stomached roiled. I was going to fuck up big time, I just knew it.

The chief constable glanced at the clock in his office before grabbing another stack of papers littered on his desk. “These are your plane tickets and itineraries
—
the Romanian Politia’s covered all of your expenses. Inspector Grigori Vasile will pick you up at the airport in Romania to take you to your lodgings, where you will stay for the duration of the investigation. I suggest you spend the next few hours packing. Your flight is this evening.”

So much for
my winter break. I spent the next several hours in Peel Academy’s main library, Xeroxing supernatural maps of the area and as many pages of demonic and angelic folklore as I could find.

I checked the time as I slogged back to my dorm. I had under an hour to pack everything I needed for my trip.

When I opened my door, Oliver was sprawled out on Leanne’s bed, flipping through one of her old diaries. I snatched it out of his hands. “Nosy much?”

“Geez harpy woman, I just miss her.”

I dropped Leanne’s diary on her desk and moved over to my bed, pulling my suitcase out from underneath it.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Oliver asked, noticing the suitcase.

“What do you think I’m doing? Packing.” I began emptying my “upgraded” underwear drawer.

“But I thought you were staying here for winter break.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not,” I said. “The Politia put me on a case in Romania.” I walked over to my closet and grabbed a section of clothing and threw the items into my bag, hangers and all.

“Oh, unh uh, girl. That is
not
how you pack a suitcase.” Oliver crept over to my bag and began removing the hangers from my shirts and folding them. It was actually pretty endearing, until I realized he was screening out shirts he didn’t approve of. “And
Romania
?” he said skeptically. “There’s, like, a whole body of water that will separate us.”

I exhaled. “I know.” I dropped a couple of coats into my bag.

“You’re leaving me all alone!”

“You have Rodrigo.” Rodrigo, the poor werewolf who decided to not go to Brazil so that he could spend winter break with my commitment-phobe friend.

“But he’s so
clingy
,” Oliver complained.

I snickered. “You find relationships clingy.”

“Plus,” Oliver added, ignoring my comment, “things are bound to get interesting where you’re involved.”

I looked up from my packing so I could give him the stink eye.

“What?” he said. “It’s not like it isn’t true.” Oliver muttered to himself, “I just wish those incubi would come back.”

I shuddered at the thought. But what I didn’t tell Oliver was that, though the incubi were gone, their leader haunted my dreams.

Just like Leanne, I was getting better at keeping secrets.

“
Nice to meet
you Inspector Vasile,” I said, shaking our liaison’s hand in the airport terminal. It was late evening by the time Caleb and I landed in Cluj-Napoca and met up with the inspector.

“Please, call me Grigori,” he said, inclining his head. “It’s an honor to meet the Politia’s youngest demonologist.” If only he knew how ill-deserved that title was.

“I’m glad to be here,” I lied.

“Well, we are indebted to the Isle of Man for letting us borrow you and your partner for this investigation.” Grigori’s attention moved to Caleb. “Ah, and you must be Inspector Jenning’s son. We’ve heard about you even all the way over here. A lot of officers are excited to see another shapeshifter on the force.”

Caleb’s face flushed. He rubbed the back of his neck and extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too. I, uh, look forward to working with you on the case.”

“Good, good.” Grigori nodded and took one of my bags. “Well, let’s get going. We’ll get you settled tonight and begin the investigation tomorrow.”

We headed to Grigori’s car and loaded our belongings before getting in and pulling out of the airport. It was only then that I got my first close up look of Cluj. The city appeared to be nestled at the foot of a sloping mountain range, and everywhere I looked, old European architecture blended with more modern buildings.

Andre’s somewhere out there
. This was not exactly how I’d imagined visiting his home country for the first time, and it felt strange being here without him by my side.

“A snowstorm is heading our way within the next few days, so I hope you planned to stay for awhile,” Grigori said to us, his accent rolling the words. “Air travel will likely be stalled during that time.”

“Fantastic,” I said, suppressing a sigh. Caleb and I would be stuck here even if we managed to solve the case in record time.

Eventually we pulled up to a small inn that sat on the outskirts of the city and made our way to the inn’s front desk.

“Sergeant Fiori,” Grigori called, following Caleb and me inside.

“Gabrielle,” I corrected him, glancing over my shoulder.

“Before you and your partner retire for the evening, can I speak to you both for a moment?” he asked, gesturing to a sitting room across from the front desk.

I glanced at Caleb who flashed me an excited look. We were really doing this. I nodded to Grigori. “Of course.”

I dropped my luggage, and Caleb and I made our way to one of the couches facing the inn’s stone fireplace.

Grigori took a seat across from us. “How much do you both know about the crime?”

“Not much,” Caleb replied, “other than what was given to us in the file earlier today.”

“Do you know why we called a demonologist in to investigate?”

I paused. “Not exactly.”

Grigori nodded to himself. “I figured as much. You see, we called you in because we feel that there are some glaring similarities between this murder and the Samhain murders.”

I jolted in my seat. “Similarities?” I repeated, my voice weak.

“After the Samhain murders, we’ve been watching our ley lines in case a copycat decided to mimic those killings.”

I swallowed. I knew what was coming next.

“Our victim was killed on one such ley line.”

I closed my eyes. No wonder they wanted me here.

“If you’ve looked at the case file on this murder, then you’ve seen the photos. Our victim, Ana Gabor, wasn’t simply killed. There are details that indicate this was premeditated, ceremonial.”

I grimaced, remembering the photos.

“Here’s what we know,” Grigori said, leaning forward in his seat. “Whoever killed our victim dressed her in a white gown, then proceeded to inflict three separate, lethal injuries: she was suffocated, stabbed through the heart, and her throat was slit. One of our psychometric officers got a read from the body; it appears that the wounds were inflicted simultaneously.”

“Was the psychometric able to pull any other information from the body?” Caleb asked.

Both of us knew from working under Maggie, who herself was a psychometric officer, that certain bodies produced more information than others. Some of it had to do with the victim’s state of mind at the time of death, some of it had to do with the perpetrator’s, and some of it had to do with the psychometric’s own ability to read the information.

Grigori shook his head. “Nothing helpful.” He rubbed his jaw. “We do know that once our victim was dead, her blood was then collected,” Grigori said.

“Collected, rather than drank?” I clarified.

“Yes.”

I exhaled. The perpetrator could still be a vampire, but now at least I didn’t have to assume that he or she was one.

Grigori looked between Caleb and me. “Do either of you know the properties of angel blood?”

I glanced at Caleb. He looked just as confused as I felt. “No,” I said for the both of us.

“If willingly given and ingested, angel blood is said to cleanse the soul of wrongdoing.”

I stilled at the thought. Many, many people would kill for that. But if it were true, then it would be paradoxical to kill someone with angelic blood unless they agreed to it beforehand.

Grigori rubbed his cheek. “This is all conjecture, since no angels have willingly given their blood to another within the last several centuries and written records before that time were … poor at best.

“In addition, the folklore on angel blood only discusses angels, not their offspring. So we don’t really know what the killer’s motivations were. But, celestially speaking, it’s a significant loophole in the system.”