The Coven’s Curse (The Psychic and The Vampire #3)

Chapter One

This is the life. The house was blessedly silent.

Ant cradled his coffee mug between both palms and savored the warm ceramic against his skin.

Steam curled upward, carrying the rich scent of the dark roast Viktor had purchased from the specialty shop downtown - the one that ground the beans fresh every morning and who never added artificial flavoring.

The kitchen table sat beneath the window, and morning sunlight slanted across the polished wood, illuminating dust motes that drifted in lazy spirals through the air.

Perfect.

Able’s heavy head rested on Ant’s thigh, the German shepherd’s warm weight relaxing him more effectively than any meditation technique the therapist at the Academy had ever suggested. Ant reached down and scratched behind Able’s ear, earning a contented huff.

“Viktor won’t be much longer,” Ant informed his dog, keeping his voice soft.

“I know you would have preferred to accompany him when he goes running, but he left before I’d even gotten dressed, and I suspect he was in the mood to use his super speed.

You would have been left behind within the first thirty seconds. ”

Able’s tail thumped once against the floor.

“He promised to bring back breakfast.” Ant took another sip of coffee and glanced toward the back door, where the utility room’s glass panels revealed the carefully maintained garden beyond.

The wards hummed at the edge of his awareness, a constant reassuring presence that kept the world’s chaos at bay.

“He’ll probably get those breakfast sandwiches from the deli on Main. The ones with the egg and cheese and…”

The front door banged open. Ant didn’t flinch - he’d felt Bridget’s energy signature pass through the wards - but Able lifted his head and gave a perfunctory woof.

“Don’t start, puppy,” Bridget announced, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. “And that goes for you, too, Ant. I’m not in the mood.”

She swept into the kitchen with her usual hustle, her dark hair twisted into its usual immaculate bun, her tailored suit pressed within an inch of its life – navy this time, which Ant had come to learn meant Bridget was on a mission.

On relaxing days, she went for suits in a pastel shade.

The thick manila folder she had clutched in one hand radiated the distinctive magical residue of Justiciary documentation… probably the source of her upset.

Ant blinked at her. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“You were thinking something.”

“Obviously. I’m always thinking.” He put his coffee mug on the table. “The human brain doesn’t simply stop processing information unless the person in question is dead or in a coma, and I am neither.”

Bridget’s eye twitched, and her lips thinned. She dropped the folder onto the table with a decisive thunk, then crossed her arms and fixed him with the expression she usually reserved for their most frustrating clients. Ant had become immune to that look before he’d hit his teenage years.

“The Justiciary sent this over an hour ago,” she said flatly. “They want you on a case.”

“I assumed as much, given the folder and your agitation.” Ant nudged Able’s head gently off his lap and reached for the file. “You could’ve simply emailed the details.”

“I could have,” Bridget agreed, her voice turning suddenly syrupy-sweet in the way that meant she was absolutely furious about something. “But I wanted to see your face when you read it.”

Ant opened the folder. The first page was a standard Justiciary coversheet including a case number, the date of the incident, and the presiding investigator’s seal. He skimmed the preliminary details.

Victim: Ronald Finch, forensic accountant, age forty-two. Cause of death: severe blood loss consistent with vampire feeding. Location: Raven Estate, primary residence of Claudius Raven’s coven.

He flipped to the next page.

Time of death: approximately seventy-two hours prior to body discovery. Scene contamination: extensive. Magical interference: confirmed. Local authorities were unable to proceed due to jurisdictional complications and coven legal protections.

Ant frowned as he read the last sentence. He would assume that local authorities would have complete jurisdiction over a crime committed in their geographical area.

“They found the victim in a guest room in the estate,” Bridget said tersely, her arms still crossed.

“He was drained completely dry – or as dry as a person can get after crossing paths with a greedy vampire. The coven is claiming they have no idea how it happened, and because of their legal status, the local police can’t touch them. ”

Ant turned another page. The crime scene photographs were no better or worse than others he’d seen.

The victim’s skin was pasty pale, his eyes vacant, and there were two telltale puncture marks on the right side of the throat.

His brain cataloged the other details he could see, noting the position of the body, lividity patterns, and the way the victim’s fingers were still curled around a pen.

“I assume the Justiciary wants a scene reading,” he concluded. “They would need to know which member of the coven killed him.”

“Correction. The brief is to find out if any member of the coven killed him, or if someone else did it on their property and they’re covering it up.” Bridget leaned forward, bracing her palms on the table. “Ant, this is the Raven Estate. Do you have any idea how dangerous...?”

“I’m aware of the estate’s reputation.” Ant closed the folder and met his sister’s eyes.

“It’s an old vampire coven, led by a highly paranoid leader, who insists the place stays heavily warded at all times.

The estate is mentioned often in classes at the Academy because it operates under an extremely archaic legal structure that grants it significant autonomy from modern law enforcement. ”

“And do you seriously think that sounds like a good case for you to investigate?”

“I didn’t say it sounded good. I said I was aware of the limitations offered by where the incident happened.

” He tapped the folder’s edge with one finger.

“The Justiciary is either severely understaffed, or other mages have already attempted this investigation and been successfully bribed or coerced into abandoning it. Therefore, they’re sending me. ”

Bridget’s jaw tightened. “Because you can’t be bribed.”

“Correct. You make sure of that.”

“And you won’t be intimidated into dropping the case.”

“Also correct.” Ant picked up his coffee mug, realized it was getting cold, and set it back down again.

“I don’t understand why you’re objecting to the case.

This is precisely the sort of situation I used to deal with when I was working with the police.

It’s just in this case, we know the criminals are paranormal, so they come under the Justiciary.

Regardless of who, what, where, or how, I’m well-suited to read the crime scene, given my specific skill set. ”

“Your specific skill set,” Bridget repeated slowly, “which involves touching a murder scene and experiencing the victim’s trauma firsthand while a bunch of stuffy vampires watch you and decide whether or not you’re a threat to whatever illegal operations they might be hiding behind their wards.”

Ant wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I imagine so, yes. But having an audience doesn’t change the details I pick up from any vision I may have.”

She closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “You’re going to give me an ulcer.”

“That’s physiologically unlikely unless you’ve dramatically increased your stress-hormone production or developed a Helicobacter pylori infection.” Ant tilted his head. “Have you been experiencing persistent abdominal pain?”

“I’m experiencing a persistent brother pain.”

“That’s not a medical condition.”

Bridget’s eyes snapped open. “Ant. Ant. Listen to me. The Raven Estate coven has been operating in legally gray areas for over a century. They have connections to half the state’s political infrastructure. If they’re involved in this murder…”

“Then they need to be held accountable regardless of their political connections,” Ant finished. “That’s how the law works.”

“We both know that’s how the law is supposed to work.” She straightened, her shoulders rigid. “In practice, people with enough money and power find ways around it.”

“Not if I provide irrefutable evidence, and you know I’m good at that.”

Able stood and pressed his nose against Ant’s hand, a gentle reminder that his heart rate had elevated slightly. Ant scratched behind the dog’s ears and focused on the familiar texture of Able’s fur, the solid warmth of his presence.

Bridget watched the gesture, and some of the tension leaked from her posture.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “But Viktor goes with you.”

“Obviously. I wouldn’t conduct a scene reading in a hostile environment without him.

That was the whole point of working with the Justiciary - so Viktor could accompany me on cases.

” Ant pulled the folder closer and began reviewing the supplementary documentation.

“When does the Justiciary want me on site?”

“Tomorrow morning. Ten a.m.” Bridget’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “They’ve already contacted the coven’s legal representative to arrange access. Apparently, Claudius himself will be present to ‘oversee’ your investigation.”

“Claudius.” Ant searched his mental archive of vampire political structures.

“The coven leader. He’s about the same age as Viktor, I believe.

There’s not a lot known about him except that he is very stringent on how vampires should be treated differently because of their laws.

I’ve seen arguments about it that divide the guests of many an Academy dinner. ”

“You and your colleagues have been known to argue for two hours about sky color, and don’t tell me they don’t, because Robert told me he was there.

But yes, that Claudius.” Bridget pulled out the chair across from him.

Even Ant could tell she was worried about him, and he was often accused of missing common cues like that. “Please tell me you’ll be careful.”

“I’m always careful during scene readings. That’s why I bring Able.” Ant glanced at his dog, who had settled back into a sphinx position at his feet. “And Viktor.”

“Viktor can’t help you if Claudius decides to activate the estate’s lockdown wards and trap you both inside.”

“Then I’ll simply have to ensure Claudius doesn’t perceive me as a threat.”

Ant returned his attention to the file, scanning the property schematics with interest. The ward structure related to the estate that he’d learned about at the Academy had always fascinated him.

According to written accounts, it was based on layers and layers of defensive magic, some of it dating back centuries.

Although no one had ever been given the chance to study them, meaning any information was purely speculative.

Perhaps I would have time to take a look while I’m there.

Realizing Bridget was still looking at him, he added, “Not many people consider me threatening under normal circumstances, so I should be fine. I’ll conduct the reading, document my findings for the Justiciary, and leave. It’s standard procedure.”

“There is nothing standard about reading a murder scene in a paranoid vampire’s heavily fortified mansion.”

“Perhaps not standard for most people.” Ant looked up and offered her the slight smile he reserved for moments when he needed to reassure her, even though he wasn’t entirely certain why she needed reassurance. “But it’s standard for me.”

Bridget stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and stood. “I’m putting hazard pay in the contract.”

“That seems reasonable.” Bridget always knew more about his fees and expenses than he did. Ant preferred it that way.

“And Viktor doesn’t leave your side. Not for a second.”

“I already told you…”

“I know what you told me. I’m telling you again because, apparently, my brother has decided to waltz into a viper’s nest and expects me not to worry.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt, her fingers trembling slightly before she forced them still. “Just…promise me you’ll come home.”

Ant considered the request. Promises were tricky.

They implied certainty about future events he couldn’t control.

But Bridget’s face had taken on the particular expression that meant she was likely remembering the last time someone had threatened him - when Colin Banks and Mike Casey had kidnapped her and shot Able.

“I promise to take every reasonable precaution,” he said carefully. “And Viktor will ensure I take several unreasonable ones as well.”

The corner of Bridget’s mouth twitched. “That’ll have to do.”

She collected her purse from where she’d dropped it on the counter, then paused at the kitchen doorway. “Tell Viktor I said to keep you safe.”

“You can tell him yourself when he returns with breakfast.”

“I have a conference call in twenty minutes.” But she lingered anyway, her hand on the doorframe. “I mean it, Ant. I’ll expect regular check-ins. Be careful.”

“I will.”

She left, her heels clicking away down the hall, and moments later, the front door closed with a much gentler sound than it had opened with.

Ant returned to the file, spreading the crime scene photographs across the table in chronological order.

Ronald Finch stared sightlessly at a distant wall in each image.

His body was positioned as though he’d simply collapsed mid-task.

He still had a pen in his hand. If it wasn’t for the marks on his neck, anyone might assume he’d simply had a heart attack or a stroke. Interesting.

Able’s ears perked up a second before Ant felt Viktor’s presence approaching through the wards. The back door opened, and Viktor’s voice carried through from the utility room.

“Babe, I got those breakfast sandwiches you like, and…” He appeared in the kitchen doorway, a paper bag in one hand and his expression shifting from cheerful to wary the moment he saw the photographs spread across the table. “What happened?”

“You’ll be pleased. We have a case,” Ant said as he gestured at the folder. “The Justiciary wants me to read a murder scene at the Raven Estate.”

Viktor’s eyes flashed red for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual ice blue. He set the bag down very carefully and moved to Ant’s side, his large hand settling on Ant’s shoulder.

“You’d better tell me everything.”