Chapter 25
SUNDAY
IN WHICH JAMISON’S FOREBODING WORKS OVERTIME
This time, Jamison was already awake, his foreboding prickling when his phone rang.
He picked it up on the first call, Dessa’s distress ringing through his ears as he vaulted into motion.
His muscles relaxed only minutely when he guessed that his foreboding must’ve been tied to Jean Marc’s death somehow and not to Dessa.
However, it didn’t stop his momentum as he made his way to the office.
“Dessa.”
Her eyes glistened with fear, weariness, and uncertainty, and he couldn’t help opening his arms in silent invitation.
She ran into them, and he folded his arms around her as if accepting his missing piece. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He held her tight, his foreboding still buzzing in a way he wanted to crush. “We’ll figure it out.”
He tried instead to focus on the rightness of having her in his arms, and he belatedly realized they had long since crossed the line of only coworkers.
Of course, his high school crush on Dessa had resurged in force within only a few days of working next to her.
But this…this went beyond that. This was trust and understanding and a safe harbor in a storm.
He wasn’t sure if he’d been the first person Dessa had called when she heard the news, but he knew if their roles would’ve been reversed, she certainly would’ve been his first thought.
No one had ever depended on him like she did.
Believed in him like she did, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her down.
“I just, if someone killed him,” Dessa said, arms still tight around Jamison like she was trusting him to hold her up. “Then—”
The door slammed open with a barrage of voices, and Jamison whirled, the foreboding ramping up with the shrill peal from the doorbell.
Brynn and Rhett nearly shoved into each other trying to get in the door, and Jamison’s apprehension immediately turned to embarrassment.
After all, what would someone think if they found him and Dessa wrapped around each other in an empty office at five a.m?
But if the two paranormals even noticed their embrace, they didn’t show it.
“They killed him!” Brynn snarled, her teeth growing sharp, and—were those ears popping from her red hair?
“Why would we kill him so soon?” Rhett snapped back, fangs flashing. “He’s a stain on the Vampire reputation. Of course we would’ve tortured him first, and anyways there was a Werewolf on guard duty. How’d someone even get past him in the first place?”
Despite the curse still nettling his skin, Jamison stepped between them. “Just hold on. No brawling in the office.”
“That’s right.” Dessa stepped forward, any sign of her weakness from moments ago evaporated.
“If you spill blood on our carpet, you have to clean it up.” She stabbed a finger at the “No Bloodshed” sign, and strangely both aggressors took a step back.
It seemed no matter who you were in the PC, everyone hated scrubbing blood out of the carpet.
“First of all, let’s run through how it happened.
Brynn, did anything happen to your guard? ”
“No, the guard was posted in the room, no one came in or out except medical personnel.”
Jamison leaned against the wall, brow furrowing. “How did he die, then?”
“Someone poisoned the saline we were using to cleanse the drugs from his blood.” Rhett folded his arms, looking more affronted now than murderous, his dark suit still immaculate.
“They used fae root—a plant commonly grown by Hexxers which, in small doses, can enhance their connection to magical objects. In large doses, it can be fatal to any creature, paranormal or not.”
“Well then, that doesn’t exactly sound like a Werewolf or Vampire execution,” Dessa said, moving to her desk.
“You generally prefer a bloody confrontation, right? Werewolf honor specifically states that the target be able to fight back, and Vampire law requires their executions be witnessed by at least three, isn’t that so? ”
Both Brynn and Rhett seemed rather put out by their loss of an obvious scapegoat, but neither offered any comment.
“Which leads us back to the Hexxers,” Jamison said. “But what can we do if the enforcement office already raided their compound?”
“They’ll have to go back,” Dessa said as the printer whirred to life.
“Fae root is a controlled substance, and I’m making copies of all the information we have on it, as well as Jean Marc’s file so far.
We’ll comb the camera footage from the hospital and ask Melba to see if she can find any visual evidence of tampering.
In the meantime, you can take these records to the regional and enforcement offices to demand a second search. ”
Rhett stepped forward, puffing his chest out. “Of course we’ll do it.”
“Hardly.” Brynn tried to edge in front of him, her boots tracking mud across the floor. “If the Hexxers controlled one Vampire, who’s to say they won’t be able to grab another?”
“There are two copies.” Dessa held the paper bundles out to each of them. “I think it would be most effective if you went together. After all, we wouldn’t want this to boil up to a regional conflict.”
Brynn growled at Rhett, and he bared his fangs back at her. Jamison stepped between them with a smile, clapping a hand on both of their shoulders. “Aw, I love to see a community come together even under such dire circumstances.”
Rhett narrowed his eyes. “Yes, well, if the Hexxers don’t come clean, we may be headed to a war anyway.”
“Agreed.” Brynn shrugged out of Jamison’s grasp and snatched her papers, her forearm muscles bulging.
“Yeah, well, try to play nice.” Jamison met Dessa’s gaze, and she gave him a tense smile. “We have faith you can figure this out.”
With the sleepy chime of the bell, the two stalked out together, still grumbling, leaving Jamison and Dessa alone in the dark office again. As soon as they disappeared, Dessa covered her face with her hands and crumpled against the printer with a groan. “What a disaster.”
“Has there ever been a real war between them?” Jamison asked, headed for the break room with a desperate need for a gallon of extra-strong coffee.
“Unfortunately, yes. Back when we were in elementary school.” Dessa followed him and dug into a cabinet where they kept the snacks.
“Thirty people died across the community, and it almost brewed into a cross-regional conflict before Brad was able to broker peace. That’s when the last AzRIO lead died, and Brad took over. ”
Jamison pressed the button on the coffee pot, and it gurgled like it too was waking up. “How did he die?”
“He got in between the Vamps and Weres, trying to stop them.” Dessa poked Jamison’s side with a smirk.
“Which, may I point out, is what you just did, and something I wouldn’t recommend in the future.
” She fished out a granola bar from the pantry and hopped on the counter.
“In general, it’s not uncommon for AzRIO leads to die in conflicts like that, because in many ways, if there’s a war, it means AzRIO has failed, and someone’s bound to demand retribution. ”
Jamison’s foreboding buzzed harder. Because even though Brad was still technically the AzRIO lead, for all intents and purposes, Dessa was his temporary replacement.
With that in mind, Jamison would step in between anyone he needed to before he let something happen to her.
A fluttering by the open window caught his attention, and the budgie flew into the room with a happy chirp.
“You really should keep this window locked at night, Dessa. If the budgie doesn’t come in, he can fend for himself.” He reached up to snag a piece of paper about to flutter out the window but froze when he saw it.
Drop the case or become a victim.
His eyes shot wide, and he showed it to Dessa. “Someone must’ve slipped this in here.”
Dessa barely raised a brow. Instead, she plucked the paper from his hands with a wrinkle of her nose. “Yeah, well, I guess that’s not super surprising since everyone’s fired up about this case.” She balled it up and threw it in the trash.
Jamison gaped at her. “That’s the second direct threat. How are you not more upset about this?”
Dessa shifted, her gaze roaming anywhere but him.
“It’s not the second,” he breathed, incredulous. “How many have there been, Dessa?”
Before she could answer, the front door’s bell rang again in a string of curious notes, and a familiar voice drifted through the office.
“Hello?”
Jamison’s attention snapped toward the lobby with an ice-bucket of shock. Why would his mom of all people be here?
“Geez, it’s not even six yet. Hasn’t anyone heard of opening times?” Dessa gave Jamison an apologetic smile. “Really, Jamison, it’s no big deal. Of all the things we have to worry about, this doesn’t make the top five.” With that, she bounded toward the front door.
“Hi, we’re not officially open yet, but I can make you an appointment.”
Taking a breath to steel himself, Jamison walked out. “Mom, what are you doing here?”
Dessa reared back, her blue-eyed stare toggling between them as if measuring the resemblance. Though they had the same sandy hair and sharp cheekbones, Rosa Martins was every inch the picture of a successful business manager he’d never be.
She looked exactly like he’d seen her two months ago.
Her waves fell to her shoulders, she stood tall in her heels, and her gray skirt and suit jacket were crisply pressed.
The same tension and worry she’d always carried collected in the lines around her eyes along with the twitch of a sympathetic frown.
“Your father told me you were working here, and after hearing the news, I was worried.”
Jamison frowned. “What news?” Because of the nature of the curse, his mother didn’t know the truth behind their innocence in last year’s homicide, and they’d kept her as separate from it as they could. As far as he knew, she was still a Nesci…unless his father had really spilled the tea.