Blood Kissed Read online

  “We both know what that report will show,” she said, her fists clenched. “We both know she was still alive when I came to you. You did what they did not, and now I want your help to catch this bastard.”

  “Mrs. Banks—”

  “Marjorie,” she said. “And you cannot—will not—say no.”

  I stared at her for a minute, a deep sense of unease filling me. “Marjorie, the rangers have emphatically warned me away from any further action regarding your daughter’s murder. I cannot help you.”

  “Oh, you can and you will, or I’ll make your life so damn miserable in this town that you’ll have no choice but to leave.”

  And that right there was the sucker punch I’d been waiting for. So much for Belle’s theory that fate might want us to settle in this place.

  Fate works in mysterious ways, Belle said. But it does appear the same old shit is hitting us yet again.

  Well, not exactly the same shit. This was the first time we’d been threatened for not using our abilities.

  I rubbed my head and then said, “If the rangers have the slightest suspicion I’m helping you, my ass will be thrown into jail so damn fast—”

  “And I’ll get it out just as fast, believe me.” She reached out and grabbed my hand, but this time I was prepared for her. No images surged; all I saw, all I felt, was bleak sorrow and utter devastation. Her demands were born of a need to do something to help ease her guilt and heartache, I knew that, but it didn’t help me. “Please, Elizabeth. You have to do this. You must.”

  Which was almost an exact echo of her earlier plea, and one that would undoubtedly get me into even more trouble.

  I gently pulled my hand from hers. “If you give me your address, I’ll come to your place and examine Karen’s room. We’ll see where we go from there.”

  She frowned. “How will that help?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to give her false hope, not when the man behind Karen’s death had gone to such lengths to conceal his presence. “I might be able to find something that has the man’s resonance on it. It might give us some clue as to who he is or where he is staying.”

  “Then come with me now—”

  “No.” I held up a hand, cutting off her protest before she could utter it. “I’m just about dead on my feet, Mrs. Banks. I couldn’t sense anything now even if I wanted to. Tomorrow is the best I can do.”

  Her expression was less than pleased, but there was little point in pushing the issue, and she knew it. She gave me her address and then added, “Nine tomorrow morning, then?”

  I hesitated and then nodded. “But it’s possible the rangers will want to do their own search, so please warn me beforehand if they’re there.”

  The last thing I needed was to be going against O’Connor’s orders so soon after they’d been given. She nodded, and after a slight hesitation, spun around and walked back to her car. I waited until she’d left and then headed into the café.

  Belle met me near the door and handed me one of her concoctions. It was thick, green, and rather odorous, but I knew from experience that the worse they smelled, the better they worked.

  I held my nose and quickly swallowed it, but a shiver of distaste still ran through me. “Seriously, can you not add a little sugar or something to make these things a little bit more palatable?”

  “Sugar is bad for you.” She plucked the glass from my hand. “Unless, of course, it’s consumed in the form of cake, biscuits, or chocolate.”

  I snorted, and almost instantly regretted it when pain shot through my brain.

  “You,” Belle said, voice severe, “had best get upstairs quick smart. I’ll finish up in the kitchen and check on you later.”

  I nodded, squeezed her arm in appreciation, and then headed for the small set of stairs at the rear of the café that led up to the first floor and our accommodation. There wasn’t all that much floor space up there, but we each had our own bedroom and there was a separate toilet and bathroom. The living room was tiny, but had enough room for a kitchenette, an under-bench refrigerator, a small coffee machine to save us heading downstairs all the time, and a microwave, as well as a two-person sofa and a TV. It might have been stifling had it not been for the balcony that extended out over the sidewalk, providing us with enough space for a table and four chairs while giving those in the café who wished to have their coffee and cake in the fresh air some weather protection.

  My door creaked as I opened it, and the sound echoed nastily through my brain. I winced and made a mental note to oil it in the morning. I didn’t bother turning on the light—it would have hurt too much. I simply stripped off my clothes, climbed in under the blankets, and let it all go. All the tension, all the hurt, and all the fear—most of which wasn’t mine. It might well come back to me in the morning or even in my dreams, but I’d worry about that if and when it happened.

  I closed my eyes and, within seconds, was asleep.

  It was a distant but insistent ringing that woke me. I felt around until I found my phone and then forced one eye open to see what the time was. Ten past nine.

  Oh shit….

  I flung off the blankets and scrambled out of bed. Mrs. Banks was not going to be happy.

  “I rang her earlier and told her you were unavoidably delayed,” Belle said, as she carried a tray into my room. “So get your ass back into bed and eat your breakfast first.”

  I grabbed a fresh T-shirt and pulled it on as I obeyed. “Then who was on the phone?”

  “Someone wanting to know if we did birthday cakes.”

  “And do we?” I asked, amusement touching my lips.

  “We do if she doesn’t want anything too fancy.”

  She waited a moment until I was fully settled and then placed the tray on my knees. It not only held bacon and avocado croissants and a mug of tea, but also another of her green concoctions. This time it at least smelled like banana rather than something left out in the sun too long.

  “We’re a little light on cash at the moment,” she added, “so every little bit helps.”

  It did indeed. “Was there any gossip at the produce market this morning about last night’s events?”

  “No, but the spirit world is rather uneasy. They’re not liking the situation.”

  “Are they saying what, exactly, they’re not liking? Or are they just being their usual unhelpful selves?” I picked up one of the croissants and bit into it. Delicious didn’t even begin to describe it.

  Belle smiled as she sat on the edge of my bed. “They’re not liking the fact the wild magic is unprotected. They’re saying you should go out there and find its source.”

  I frowned. “To what damn purpose? It’s not like I can commune with the stuff.”

  “You are still a Marlowe, even if a lower powered one. That alone gives you the right to at least try.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Mom was almost lost to such magic the one time she was asked to intervene and redirect it. If that could happen to her, what chance would I have?”

  “Arguments I also made, but the spirits are nevertheless insistent.” She shrugged. “At the very least, we could try placing some form of protection spell around the wellspring.”

  “That’s not going to stop it getting stained by darkness.”

  “No, but it will at least prevent whoever is responsible for Karen’s death from tapping into it, especially if we are dealing with a vampire capable of powerful magic.”

  “We aren’t supposed to be dealing with this situation at all.”

  “I know, but since when has that ever stopped us?”

  “Good point.” I finished off the croissant and then picked up her concoction. “Did Mrs. Banks mention whether the rangers had been there yet?”

  “They were there earlier this morning, apparently. They took away several items, including a laptop.”

  Given Karen had been using the laptop to communicate with her killer, it would hopefully lead them to his location and capture, and we’d be free of having to
deal with the whole situation any further.

  “Since when has it ever been that easy?” Belle said. “I’ve called in Penny to help me in the café just in case there’s a morning rush, so you can take your time at Marjorie’s.”

  “And what constitutes a morning rush?” I asked, amused. “More than the half dozen people we had yesterday?”

  “Hey, that’s infinitely better than no people.”

  And there’d certainly been other times and other cafés when that was exactly what we’d gotten. Witches were a competitive lot, especially those who came from the lower houses—like those of the Fitzgerald line who’d all but run us out of the last town we’d set up in. They might have been little more than carnival fortune-tellers and tricksters of no real power, but they’d been well-known and liked in the small town. Gossip and innuendo had killed our business before it had truly gotten off the ground.

  “And I still think you should have put a hex on the bastards.” Belle pushed to her feet. “Or at least allowed me to order up a haunting or two to liven up their days and spoil their profiteering.”

  “Would a little rat infestation suffice instead?” I asked mildly.

  She blinked, and then a slow smile stretched her lips. “Tell me you did it. Please.”

  “Well, it’s totally possible I might have thrown a small incantation their way as we were leaving.”

  “You’re getting sneaky in your old age. I didn’t even sense you doing it.” Amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. “How bad a rat infestation are we talking about? Enough to put a serious dent in their fortune-telling scam?”

  “Let’s just say I doubt many of their patrons will be willing to sit still and listen to a reading when there are rats running all around the room.”

  She laughed in delight. “Oh, you are brilliant.”

  “I do sometimes have my moments.”

  “Indeed.” She glanced down at my tray. “Make sure you finish all that.”

  She meant the potion more than the croissants, and I nodded dutifully. As much as I bitched about them, her potions were the one reason common incantations didn’t affect me as badly as they did other witches. There were benefits to having a human familiar aside from the whole friendship angle.

  I listened to the clatter and voices drifting up from downstairs as I finished my breakfast. If that noise was anything to go by, we’d at least doubled our number of patrons from yesterday. If we kept that up, we might just start making a profit from this place inside of a year.

  If we lasted a year, that was. I wouldn’t put it past our head ranger to drive us out of town, just as the Fitzgeralds had. His reasons might be born of hate rather than professional jealousy and fear of exposure, but the result would be the same—another hit to our savings. One I wasn’t entirely sure we could easily recover from. As Belle had noted, our financial situation was rather precarious at the moment.

  I thrust the worry aside; there was no point thinking about it until it actually happened. I finished the rest of the potion then slid the tray onto the bedside table and headed for the shower. Once I was clean and dressed, I went back to my dressing table and studied the array of pretty charms that were hanging from their stand. I ran my fingers across each one, letting the stones speak to me, and eventually settled on one designed to keep those with malevolent natures at a distance. It wasn’t strong enough to actually stop anyone attacking me—none of these charms were—but it would at least make anyone intending ill think twice about approaching me, even if they had no idea why. I slipped it around my neck, pocketed Karen’s necklace, then grabbed the tray and headed back downstairs.

  Belle gave me a smile but her gaze swept me critically. “You’re still looking a little ragged around the edges. Don’t overdo it at Mrs. Banks’s.”

  “I won’t.” I dumped the tray in the empty kitchen, gave Mike—our chef—a cheery hello, and then added, “Wasn’t Frank rostered on at ten thirty?”

  Frank Rueben was our fifty-nine-year-old kitchen hand and the only person who’d actually answered the ad for the position. Apparently there wasn’t only a decided lack of youngsters interested in menial jobs in this reservation, but—from what Frank had said—also very few employers willing to take on someone so close to retirement. His age certainly hadn’t worried us, although Belle did check both his references and the spirits’ thoughts. They approved his employment.

  As usual, they didn’t deign to explain why.

  “His car broke down on the way here,” Belle said. “He’ll be twenty minutes late, but said he’ll make it up at the end of shift.”

  “Ah, cool.” I stepped aside as a middle-aged woman with long brown hair and merry blue eyes approached. “Morning, Penny.”

  “Lizzie,” she said, “hope you’re feeling a little better now.”

  “I am, thank you.” Once she’d squeezed past, I glanced back at Belle and said, “You need anything while I’m out?”

  Belle shook her head. “Just take it easy.” Silently, she added, And just in case you decide to go in search of the wild magic’s source, I’ve readied the backpack.

  The spirits are that insistent?

  You have no idea.

  I’m not up to spelling today.

  Which is why I’ve only included warding stones rather than anything more potent.

  Ah. Thanks.

  Her smile flashed. Anticipating your needs is the reason I exist.

  I snorted softly and scooped up the pack as I headed out. The morning was gray and rather cold, but there were small patches of blue visible that gave me hope it would get warmer as the day wore on. While it might have been winter when we’d first arrived in Castle Rock, we were now zooming toward Christmas and that was supposed to mean summer here in Australia. But maybe the weather gods had forgotten to read that particular memo this year.

  Mrs. Banks lived on Kennedy Street, only a block away from the train station. Her place was not what I’d been expecting—a worse-for-wear white weatherboard house on a slightly elevated block, rather than one of the grand old Victorian homes that could be found everywhere in Castle Rock. The metal gate scraped across concrete that had seen better days, and the wooden steps up to the front porch were decidedly spongy. I kept a hand on the rail as a precaution, and then walked over to the front door and pressed the bell. After a few seconds, the sharp tattoo of footsteps approached.

  “Who is it?” she said, without opening the door.

  “It’s Lizzie Grace.” As the door opened, I added, “Sorry for not coming earlier, but my recovery took a bit longer than expected.”

  She nodded and stepped to one side. I didn’t immediately enter, instead reaching into my pocket to retrieve Karen’s locket.

  “I thought you might want this back,” I said softly.

  Her fingers were trembling as she took it from mine, and grief replaced the slight edge of annoyance in her expression. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, and then she took a deep breath and said, “Karen’s bedroom is the second door on the left.”

  The inside of her house was everything the outside was not. The long, pristine hallway was decorated with rich tapestries and ornately framed paintings, the mahogany timber flooring looked freshly varnished, and there wasn’t a speck of dust evident—a hard thing to achieve in flooring like that, I knew—and the coat stand to my right was a gorgeous old antique. Maybe Marjorie was concentrating on getting the inside right before she bothered with the outside.

  I entered Karen’s bedroom and was confronted by chaos. There were clothes, books, and God knows what else all over the floor. The bed was unmade and sheets looked as if they hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine for months. I glanced around. “I take it the rangers didn’t do this?”

  Marjorie snorted. “They’re responsible for the white dust, but everything else is pure Karen. I gave up trying to get her to tidy up, and simply shut the door.”

  “Teenagers, huh?” Which made me sound decidedly older than I was, but then
, I’d also been forced to grow up and look after myself a whole lot faster than most teenagers. I stepped carefully around a pile of clothes and take-out containers. “Did the rangers have anything to say this morning?”

  “No.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. The wave of grief that washed over me suggested she very much needed that support to keep her upright. “They took her laptop and a couple of other bits and bobs, but I have no idea if they’re any closer to catching the bastard. All they’re saying is that it’s too soon to know what killed her.”

  “Which it is,” I said gently. “You can’t expect miracles, either from them or from me.”

  “I know.” She rubbed a hand across her face, smearing momentary tears. “But I won’t be able to rest until I know who he is, and why he chose to murder my baby girl.”

  Because he’s a vampire, and because he got off on it. But I kept the comments to myself. Despite what I might have seen and experienced while caught in Karen’s mind, there was no proof as yet that we were dealing with a bloodsucker—nothing other than my instincts and the odd uneasiness in the spirit world, anyway.

  I picked my way through the mess and stopped at the bed. The rangers might have taken anything even remotely tied to Karen’s murder, but she’d never met her older lover here, only talked to him via her computer. If there were something to be found, then it would be something innocuous—something he’d given her that wouldn’t raise any sort of alarms. And if he also happened to be a practicing blood witch, then that something would undoubtedly have magic attached to it.

  There was no such thing near the bed, however. I frowned and walked across to the window. There were fingerprints visible on both the glass and the frames, thanks to the dusting of white powder, but I had no doubt they belonged to Karen rather than our predator. I’d seen her climbing out, not anyone climbing in, and there’d been no sense of anyone waiting close by.

  I crossed my arms and studied the backyard. It was rather small and the grass was heavily overgrown, but there was little else in the way of shrubbery or even trees that would have provided a hiding spot. Behind it, its roof and towers dominating the skyline, was a large, red brick church. Most vamps tended to avoid holy ground, even if they weren’t directly affected by it, so he probably would have waited for her out in the street. It was doubtful any of the nearby neighbors would have noticed, especially given the time Karen had climbed out of her window. And a small town like Castle Rock wasn’t exactly overrun with security cameras, even in the main shopping strip.