Cursed To Death

CHAPTER 3

Sasha had never been so glad to see a place to lay her head in all her life. Just walking up the front steps of what used to be Dugan’s Bed & Breakfast nearly brought tears to her eyes. She was so exhausted that every step felt like she was lifting an anvil instead of a boot. By the time they got to their room, she had to lean against the wall to simply fill Ethan in by cell phone. As soon as the call disconnected, she was so tempted to just walk across the room and flop down on the bed, but she knew Sir Rodney would be calling back any moment.

Hunter stood quietly inside the door, his expression stoic as she waited. Her phone sounded. Then it was just a matter of allowing Sir Rodney to vent about the baron trying to lure beautiful Phoenixes away from Ethan’s establishment. She was beginning to feel too tired to care, but checked her responses when she replied to the Seelie king’s rapid-fire questions.

“I’ll keep you posted as we get more intel,” she promised him, staring at Hunter. She waited until Sir Rodney disconnected the call and then closed her eyes, ready to fall asleep standing up.

A pair of warm, muscular arms enfolded her. She hadn’t even heard Hunter cross the room. His presence, the feel of him, was like a drug and she laid her head against his shoulder, finally giving in to a yawn.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmured.

She just nodded, already drowsy enough to practically sleepwalk. It wasn’t necessary to open her eyes as she pulled off her weapon harness and handed it to Hunter, then kicked out of her boots and stripped off her jeans. What she was feeling was an unnatural kind of exhaustion, the bone weariness that she rarely felt as a wolf. She could tell it was beating Hunter down, too. It seemed like he could barely raise his arm to place her gun on the dresser. The moment they climbed into bed, he just pulled her into a spoon and seconds later was snoring in her ear. She wasn’t far behind him as a deep dark sleep consumed her.

The pillow against her cheek might as well have been anesthesia. First there was darkness and then, slowly, red glowing symbols haunted her sleep. Strange images burned and charred beneath her fluttering lids. She could see her wolf running through the shadow lands, mist obstructing her view of the hooded figure holding a brand. Then, with a yelp, she was naked and cold, her spirit rising as the stench of burning flesh, hers, filled her nostrils. Pain gripped her abdomen and as she looked down, her belly was raw, newly branded by the eerie sigil she’d seen.

Then suddenly she was jerked awake by Hunter’s lips on hers and the sound of wild barking in her ears-or was it in her head? Sasha yanked up her tank top and stared at her stomach and then relaxed. Great-this case is already starting to show up in my dreams.

Releasing a soft groan of annoyance, she pushed her tousled damp hair away from her face, realizing that Hunter had never moved in his sleep. Then who kissed her? Had to be part of the dream, just like the barking. She looked at him for a moment and then caressed his cheek. He was sleeping peacefully and dreaming. The sight of his easy exhalations and inhalations made her smile softly, kiss him, and then fall back to sleep.

Dawn came with a vengeance. Fatigue clawed at Sasha, but the couple of hours of shut-eye that she and Hunter had been able to catch at the old Dugan B &B was simply going to have to do. She could tell he was also feeling it by the way he dug his fingers into his mass of onyx hair and hung his head as though merely contemplating getting out of bed was more than his mind or body could deal with.

“I feel like I have a hangover,” Sasha muttered, slowly heading for the bathroom.

“You’re telling me,” Hunter said in a hoarse murmur. “This isn’t normal, Sasha. I feel like hell warmed over.”

“Probably a parting gift from the baron.”

“Remind me to kick his ass the next time I see him,” Hunter said, closing his eyes and breathing slowly through his nose.

Sasha’s cell phone went off, making them both cringe. “Jesus H. Christ,” she muttered and hurried to get to it just to stop the awful sound. “What’s up, ’Rissa?”

“You okay?” Clarissa asked. “Your voice came out as a growl.”

“Sorry. Late night,” Sasha muttered. She hadn’t meant to snap at her teammate, but it was an ungodly hour in the morning.

“No apology needed… I guess I really owe you one, looking at the clock,” Clarissa said gently. “But you know I wouldn’t have called unless it was important.”

“I know, I know,” Sasha croaked and swung her legs over the side of the bed, knowing full well that Clarissa was the sensible one on the team. She wasn’t given to sudden histrionics. As their resident psychic, Clarissa wouldn’t have called unless there was a good reason. Sasha fought the haze in her brain and tried to focus. “Talk to me.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling, Captain. Like, there’s this serious dark energy vibe all around you… and I was worried.”

“Have you told Doc or the fellas?”

“No,” Clarissa said quickly. “But I told them they need to hurry up and get down there, just to have your back, just in case. This is New Orleans, you know.”

“Okay,” Sasha said, realizing how complicated this was becoming. “Here’s the thing… I’m looking into something for Sir Rodney that has to stay off the radar for now. I can’t go into it, but Hunter and I are fine.”

“Do you need any help? What do you need us to do?”

“It’s cool. We’re good. Just come down as planned and be ready to hang out at the Fae ball-it should be a blast.”

A moment of silence was Clarissa’s initial response. Sasha flopped back against the pillows when Hunter gave her the eye. It made sense that Clarissa picked up dark energy. Hell… the baron was pissed off, something Were was lurking, there was a killer on the loose, and two Phoenix chicks had torched.

“Just be careful, Sasha,” Clarissa said, strain evident in her tone.

“We will,” Sasha replied, trying to make her voice sound upbeat. But when she clicked off the phone, she just closed her eyes. How did you fake it with a psychic?

One thing was for sure, when Desidera was killed, there was a feral scent and the smell of blood in the basement. If Vampires were involved in it somehow, then it was also possible that Weres were involved-specifically the Werewolves of the remaining Buchanan Broussard clan. Old Buchanan had tried to pull a coup and get his daughter, Dana, to marry Shogun-then send the Werewolves to war against the Shadow Wolves, all the while having a dirty backroom deal going with Shogun’s sister Lei. Not to mention their demon-infected mother. With old man Buchanan, his daughter Dana, plus Shogun’s sister and his traitorous mother all killed in the post-courtroom battle, the Buchanan clan was very likely suspect, to her way of thinking.

Plus, with sorcery and Vampires somehow involved, that would be an interesting alliance. Sasha opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, clutching her cell phone in her hand. Yeah… What if they could have found a way to mask their scent? She wondered if a nasty coven spell might be able to make a Werewolf smell like something else… and if so, why not make the scent elusive, untraceable, exotic? “Hmmm…”

“You’re going to give yourself a headache this morning,” Hunter said, standing.

“Too late. Already got one,” Sasha said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and then pushing off it to grab her jeans.

She opened her pocket, found the spiral pad in it, and looked at the sigil again. If she hadn’t promised Sir Rodney she wouldn’t get her team involved unless absolutely necessary, she would have Bradley run a check on this. She’d have to loop back with Ethan about it, even though he and Margaret had completely freaked out about it last night. Regardless, there were questions she needed to ask… namely, what specifically did the symbol do?

Sasha glanced at the clock-the digital display said 6:12. Staff wouldn’t be at Ethan’s until ten. That was a lot of time to kill. Sasha looked up when she heard Hunter’s stomach growl all the way across the room.

“Let’s go get some grub… then try to find a Pixie.”

It was no wonder the Pixies and garden Faeries didn’t greet them when they entered the gardens at Chaya. Sasha took one look at Hunter’s five o’clock shadow and surly mood, and if she were one of the wee folk, she would have avoided him, too. But she wasn’t much better-two Shadow Wolves that looked like they’d seen the worst side of the moon.

Sasha trudged forward, undaunted, keeping her voice low and calling out gently. If Penelope worked at the tea salon, then the Pixie staff or garden Faeries would know whoever else she worked with, so they could track that person down. They’d also know who the Pixie was in the photo. Somebody had to know something. But after a moment, Sasha stopped walking.

“I know Pixies and Faeries are unusually shy, but it’s just way too quiet out here.”

Hunter nodded and glanced around. “We have done them no harm and have helped them in the past-why would they hide from us?”

“Listen… nothing,” Sasha said, standing very, very still. “Not even crickets or morning birds.”

On guard, both Shadow Wolves moved slowly toward the small mansion that had been turned into a delicately ornamented teahouse. Sasha motioned with her chin toward a long shadow cast by a weeping cherry tree. At this point, they couldn’t worry about the Fae investigators. There was probable cause to enter Chaya via break-in. Within moments, she and Hunter had entered the shadow, coming out of it inside the shadows within the abandoned salon.

A thin film of dust covered the surfaces of once gleaming wood furniture and privacy screens. The gorgeous hardwood floors had lost their luster and dust sat in the crevices of intricately carved panels. Sasha and Hunter shared a look.

“This place looks like somebody got out of Dodge in a hurry. I don’t get it.”

A small pssst sound gave them a start, causing both wolves to spin in its direction only to spy a small, frightened Pixie. She stood in a tiny pool of light that was coming in around the shuttered windows, and she hugged her fragile arms to her body, her large brown eyes changing colors rapidly as she spoke.

“I heard the news,” she squeaked. “That is the only reason I am coming forward-you Shadows helped us before, but this is so tragic, just so very wrong!” The Pixie glanced around again. “I’m not even supposed to be here, but I heard you’d come to this place last night… I hoped you’d come here in the early morning.”

Sasha gave Hunter a glance that told him to stay back. The small Pixie was beginning to turn blue-green, her glamour totally faded, which could only mean that she was scared half to death. Large tears slid down her cheeks and Sasha immediately knew this was the Pixie in the photo.

“We’ll help you,” Sasha said in a gentle voice. “But we have to know what’s going on.” She squatted down to bring her gaze more level to that of the small person before her. “What’s your name?”

“Pixie Gretchen,” she said, as two more large, opalescent tears rolled down the bridge of her button nose. She tossed her strawberry-blond curls away from her face and lifted her chin, obviously trying to be strong. “They killed her.”

“Who?” Sasha said carefully.

“Poor Desidera,” the Pixie whispered and then covered her face.

Sasha glanced at Hunter, who remained stoic. “I meant, who killed Desidera?”

“The spell-casters.” Gretchen lowered her palms away from her face.

This time Sasha didn’t just glance at Hunter, she held his gaze for a moment before returning her line of vision to the Pixie. “You mean the Vampires?”

The mention of Vampires made the Pixie dash back and forth within the pool of light for a few seconds.

“They must be the ones stealing our magick-but who knows how they’ve cast such a spell? Our magick has been waning for months. That’s why we’ve been in hiding. Desidera learned something by consorting with them… Penelope said she wasn’t herself since the night before last, and I’ve been waiting here for word… we all have. Then the night moths told the Faeries about Desidera’s flaming… oooohhhh… so horrible!”

Hunter cast a sidelong glance at Sasha.

“When was the last time you spoke to Penelope?” Sasha chose her words carefully, beginning to add up facts in her head as she spoke.

“Yesterday, when she got off from work in the afternoon… She works for Ethan McGregor, you know.” Gretchen looked between Sasha and Hunter. “What have you not told me?”

“When Penelope gets off work at Ethan’s, she comes directly here to work?” Hunter addressed the Pixie in a low, calm rumble, trying to keep his voice modulated.

“She used to… when we were open,” Gretchen said, now beginning to wring her hands. “But now she just comes by regularly to bring us honey and other supplies we need, as a friend. We, the Fae, are very private, and leaning on charity from those outside our community is very difficult indeed. That’s the only reason she started adding full shifts at that other place.”

“The Blood Oasis?” Hunter asked as gently as possible.

“Ohhh, that evil, evil place-yes!” The Pixie grabbed her hair with both hands and shook her head. “Penelope was going there too much and Desidera was worried about her, rightfully so. Penelope wanted Desi to dance there with her and I guess she finally gave in… and because the Vampires wanted her to join the club so badly, I think they let her in deeper than they even let Penelope. After that, Desi just wasn’t the same. She told us not to worry; she’d heard something that she had to tell Sir Rodney.” Gretchen bit her lip. “She was trying to help us, trying to be sure our magick would return. It had all come down!”

Sasha hugged herself, new worry roiling in her mind. So, Rodney was also playing games-he wasn’t just going to hook up with a lover; he was there to learn what Desidera had found out. For a moment, Sasha’s heart froze. Please, God, Sir Rodney couldn’t have killed that girl… But she shook the thought. It didn’t make sense. If Desidera was going to tell him something about those committing sorcery against his kingdom, killing Desidera would be the last thing he’d do. Besides, why would he have called her in to investigate the crime? It would have been easy for him to simply sweep the matter under the rug. A dead Phoenix in the paranormal community wouldn’t have shown up on her personal radar. And, if Desidera didn’t tell Penelope, then why did she end up dead? One thing was for sure, she needed to make a visit to Sidhe to get in the Seelie king’s face about withholding intel.

“Did Desidera tell you what she learned?” Sasha finally asked, bracing herself to deliver the bad news about Penelope.

“No. She wouldn’t tell us because she wanted to keep us out of it, wanted to protect us. She said it was too dangerous,” Gretchen replied, stifling a sob. “Not even Penelope could pry it out of her, and now Desidera is dead.”

“That’s not your fault,” Sasha said as she stared down at the distraught little being. “Did the night moths tell you anything else?” She glanced at Hunter and then back at Gretchen.

“No. I went into hiding as soon as I heard about Desidera. I should really go back to our secret mound,” Gretchen said, glancing around nervously. “I’ve been gone too long already.”

“But why wouldn’t you just have other Fae help you, then, instead of the Phoenixes?” Sasha said, trying to stay the Pixie’s leave.

“Sir Rodney said that for security reasons we should keep our fading-magick problem to ourselves until he could investigate,” Gretchen said in a bitter tone. “But Penelope saw our condition with her own eyes as we closed the tea salon temporarily… That is not common knowledge; I don’t believe McGregor even knows. Everything has been going fallow and so hard to cultivate the more our magick wanes. We’ve told Sir Rodney all of this, but his investigation is moving slowly-Thompson Loughlin hasn’t made a dent in things and we’re left at the mercy of fate! We had to eat.”

“Can you tell me what supplies Penelope used to bring?” Sasha asked gently.

“Yes… but why?” Gretchen looked from Sasha to Hunter.

“We’ll make sure you have supplies while all of this is being sorted out,” Sasha said, trying to soothe the Pixie while attempting to find a way to deliver the awful news.

“No, that will only draw attention. Upon the king’s orders, this condition we face is to remain a secret… and we are protected from the spell-casters behind the wrought-iron gate. Dark magick cannot penetrate iron, which is why it surrounds the garden… far enough away from us not to leach our power, and a barrier to anyone sending ill will.”

“Then how do you account for the fact that, iron gate or not, your powers are gone?”

The Pixie looked from Sasha to Hunter and back again, clearly perplexed.

“Either something got inside your gate that is impervious to iron or-”

“No, no, no!” the Pixie shrieked, covering her ears with her hands. “Then that means the monster who laid it here cannot be Fae, only we are allergic to the iron!”

Using her pointer finger, Sasha began drawing the sigil she’d seen in the dust on the floor. “Have you ever seen one of these? Do you know what it means?”

Gretchen threw her hands in the air and began screaming, running around in a circle. “Erase it, erase it!” she shrieked and then held her hands over her heart.

Sasha quickly wiped away the dust-drawn image and watched as the Pixie fell over, nearly faint.

Lifting herself to stare at Sasha, Gretchen’s bottom lip quivered as she spoke. “Where did you see such a horrible thing?”

“On Desidera’s and Penelope’s bodies,” Sasha replied as gently as possible.

“Penelope’s?” Gretchen whispered. Her lip quivered and more tears rose to her eyes. “You are sure?”

“It was not your fault,” Sasha said quietly. “But we’ll help you. I promise.”

Gretchen hugged herself, her tiny shoulders shaking as she finally gave way to a good hard cry. “Thank you,” she finally murmured, not bothering to wipe her face.

“If you need me,” Sasha said, writing her number in the dust on the floor, “here’s my cell number… or you can send me a Fae missive.”

Gretchen simply closed her eyes and nodded.

“I think it’s time to have a conversation with Sir Rodney,” Hunter muttered as he slammed the jeep door and pulled away from the curb.

“Ya think?” Sasha said, completely irate.

Before long they were back at Dugan’s Bed & Breakfast. She waited for Hunter to find a parking spot in the back lot, fuming. Critical information had been left out of the equation. Ethan might have even been aware of some of it-and that damned Fae code of secrecy had her and Hunter out all night and at dawn on a wild goose chase! There was no discussion necessary as she and Hunter jumped out of the jeep and headed for the closest shadow.